The Chair!

Soon after graduating from college, I bought my very first antique item for my very first place in Boston - an old wingback chair with cute character and a tiny bit of life left for a whopping $40. I was quite proud of it, despite it's dated and worn-out appearance, and had grand plans to refinish it at some point.

Fast foward 9 years, through 5 moves, a destructive dog, and a busy kids' playroom, and here sat this old chair in our very tiny house. Torn and stained, on its last leg, and with no place to live in our 1200 square foot home without disturbing us (/me) with a significant amount of ugly.

Seriously people, I tried to GIFT it away on a free community resource site, and no one would even take it.

Then we moved it into the garage and waited for an opportune time for a run to the transfer center. While it sat there, sad and abandoned, I started to feel a strange pity for the thing. I mean, it had been with me for 9 YEARS and I had always given it the impression that I wasn't going to give up on it, and that one day, it'd be beautiful again. I simultaneously started to realize that we didn't have a chair for our 4th baby's nursery yet, since the one we've used in the past was being utilized in the living room now. But friends, I was ***9 months pregnant*** when I starting having all these feelings. (Which is probably why I started having them), and taking on a major reupholstery/refinishing project at this point was probably not the smartest decision.

So of course that's what I did. As opposed to the common "nesting" instincts that most women experience during a pregnancy, my friends affectionally call this phenomenon "messting."

The nursery suddenly became a warzone of glue, carpet tacks, paint, power tools, sewing accessories, and old, dusty, ripped up fabric. My plan was to do a "cheat" reupholstery, and only recover the existing fabric as much as possible by removing the edging embellishment, stretching the new fabric over the existing fabric, nailing into place with carpet tacks, and adding new matching embellishment around the edges to cover the tacks. This was my *PLAN."

Disclaimer: I have never, ever done anything remotely like this, and just kind of skimmed through a couple YouTube videos. Don't try this at home.

So, I got to work trying to remove the embellishment. And that didn't work because it was all glued into the deteriorating fabric and as soon as I pulled, everything just started coming off. There was actually kind of a cool vintage fabric underneath the armrests, so I left that there. All around the outside of the chair, I kept each piece of old fabric intact and used it to measure my pieces of new fabric.

Before replacing with new fabric, I sanded down and painted the wood white. I figured if a little paint got on the unfinished edges of the old fabric, it wouldn't be the end of the world. The white looked great after a few coats over the course of about a week, and a little sanding and cleaning inbetween. It was a careful process, but it paid off.

THEN I TRIED TO FINISH IT WITH A CLEAR COAT. Hugest mistake ever. Apparently, there exists NOWHERE on this PLANET a clear finish coat that will go over white furniture without YELLOWING the heck out of it!!!!!!!!! Sorry, but this was such a huge, indigestion-covered hiccup in the project. I'm still mad about it. I even used the recommended "crystal clear finish" stuff from Minwax and followed the instructions exactly. When that failed, I was in such denial that I actually started to reupholster the chair with the new fabric, convinced it was just my eyes playing tricks on me. Needless to say, when all was said and done, I was left with a beautifully reupholstered chair and disgustingly yellow wood. When I finally came to my senses, I repainted the wood white again (with a small paintbrush to avoid ruining the fabric), and marched into Home Depot, determined to find something that would work as a clear furniture finish. They were basically no help because nothing like that really exists, and handed me a can of spray paint that said "non-yellowing" ....SPRAY. PAINT. Over my already-upholstered chair. The thought of having to move it to the garage, tape it off and cover it in trash bags, etc....was almost too much for me and my 37.5 week pregnant self.

So, I researched online like a madwoman (including Minwax furniture wax, all other options of paint that don't require a finish, etc. etc. etc...), and finally decided to try spraying the paint into a cup and painting it on carefully with a paint brush in an inconspicuous spot FIRST. It worked sufficiently well, and definitely didn't yellow as much as the canned polycrylic paint, but it did make it a tad off-white. I could deal with that, so while it's not the bright white I was looking for, I didn't spend a gazillion dollars or go into labor doing the stupid thing, so yeah. Win in my book.

For the new fabric, I found a soft heather grey linen type fabric at Joann's for 40% off, then an additional coupon brought it down by at least another 50%...all in all, I spent $20 on 4-5 yards of uhpholstery fabric!!! I WAS SO PROUD of my money-saving skillz!!! YES!

The inside sides of the chair were a little trickier because I didn't want to remove all the old fabric and lose the shape - I wanted the easy way out. So, I ended up nailing a few corners deep into the inner crevices, then used a curved upholstery needle (thank you to my husband for suggesting this) to sew in the new fabric along the bottom sides. That way, I didn't have to remove all the fabric all over the entire chair to pull the fabric through to the back, etc. It definitely saved a lot of time, and none of the sewing details will be seen because they are well below the seat cushion. But I definitely cheated ;)

For the seat cushion, I really loved the cording details around the edges that the existing cushion had. So I removed the cording (so it was cut to exactly the right length) and sewed it directly in to the new fabric to make a seat cushion cover. Again, first time doing anything like this, and I did it free of YouTube videos!! I'm sure there is a more technical way to do it, but this worked and it looks nice. I also used some cording detail on the front bottom piece of the chair.

I stretched the fabric, nailed in the carpet tacks, and then once all the paint was finished and I was decently satisfied, I glued the embellishment onto the edges (a pretty grey edging ribbon that matched the grey chair perfectly!).

And it was like the freakin 6th day of creation, my friends. I sat back, saw that it was good, and took a 

seriously 

majorly 

long

nap. (But not in the chair because I still need some sort of ottoman/foot rest to get the whole effect)

But really, I am pretty proud of how everything turned out. Overall including the cost of the chair itself, I'd say I spent about $75-80 on this project, and it's an absolutely perfect and personal addition to Micah's nursery. I'm kind of having a little Joanna Gaines moment right now, and feeling pretty thrifty, too. Ok Micah! We're ready for you!!

Just please don't get any ideas from the crazy pregnant lady.

The Work of a Child - Part 2

Probably one of the most ANNOYING (but unfortunately productive, educational) toys out there (and in "here") are

PUZZLES.

For the love of all things good in this world...

...we needed to DRASTICALLY reduce the number of incomplete puzzles and random pieces floating around in our house STAT. The "lovely" thing about puzzles is that you need to stinkin BUILD every one of them to figure out whether they are complete and which pieces are missing. 

Someone *may* need to look up a psychiatric facility for me when I'm done with this section of home/toy simplification. Or just buy me a vacation. Or a stiff drink...if it's after November...

 First step was getting on my hands and knees, and searching every square inch of our house for puzzle pieces. I combined everything I found with the few BOXES of mismashed puzzles that I already had, and got to work. I'm still missing about 30% of all the puzzles, but after about 3 hours....

What you don't see in the picture are about 15 peg puzzles stacked up along the side of the living room, and about 3 other boxes of all the other random pieces that don't seem to fit anywhere. How does that even happen?

By the way, I am begging all of you to never,

ever,

EVER

buy our kids more Frozen puzzles. They're all kind of similar to each other in the backgrounds/style, have a gazillion pieces, no picture to reference, and no cheat symbols on the backs. I came super close to just throwing them all away right then and there.

After multiple days of never having a long enough block of time to actually finish this project, necessitating multiple clean-ups and re-builds (and hours...and hours....of annoying kids puzzles and seizure-inducing colors/shapes), I ended up with about 10 puzzles to donate/gift to other kiddos, at least 5 puzzles that we simply had to throw away due to missing pieces or being ripped to shreds after so much use...5-10 beginner peg puzzles, and 10 (12-20ish piece) puzzles for the older kids. Of the ones we're keeping, I split them into 4 bags (including a variety of each type and difficulty level in each bag) for rotation. I also made sure to use a sharpie to add a small "x" "o" heart, star, or other symbol on the back of each piece of each completed puzzle before breaking them down and separating them into baggies. Hopefully this will help with getting rogue pieces into the right bags without having to build every last puzzle.

I can't tell you how relieved I am to be done with this. Now they will have access to 5 puzzles MAX during each rotation. And we're officially going to start tracking down and sorting all the pieces correctly before bagging and rotating out with the next set from now on - that's not a huge deal with only 5 puzzles!

Who needs a drink? (says the pregnant momma...)

The Work of a Child - Part 1

“Play is the work of the child.” – Maria Montessori

Recently I came across an article about reducing the toy clutter (of which our home is really...REALLY full - let me tell you), thereby helping your kids play more productively and imaginatively. I was totally inspired as someone with both a background in development, and a first-hand understanding of how easily kids become bored with an endless mudslide of toys.

Boredom leads to the inevitable dumping of containers, scattering of supplies, and entangling of every remotely long/stringy item available.

Which leads to compounding chaos...

Which leads to the failure to create, imagine, produce, or *really* play at all with the abundance of toys available for that very purpose.

After reading this article and another article that the author references along those same lines, I decided something needed to be done in our home. After all, if my kids cannot adequately play, they cannot adequately "do" childhood.

"Play is the work of the child" - Maria Montessori
“Play is the highest form of research.” – Albert Einstein
“Play gives children a chance to practice what they are learning.” – Mr. Rogers (one of my personal favorites!)

I immediately started brainstorming. There were components I liked and didn't like so much from the original article. For instance, I loved the idea of simplifying and rotating out toys to add novelty, which is a HUGE motivation for play! However I thought the extremely minimalistic environment in the picture was 1) A little drab and dare I say parent-centered (barely any chance to make a mess) - I don't mind a few messes here or there as long as they are productive and helping little minds work! and 2) COMPLETELY. UNREALISTIC. for a home with nearly 4 small children who are at different developmental stages and often require multiples of a similar kind of toy in order to play well *together* (another skill I am passionate about helping them learn). So I'm tweaking as necessary.

I set to work brainstorming a play space for the kids within the tiny 10x15ish foot room we have available to us right now. As it is we have plenty of toy storage, but most of it gets filled up with random assortments of unrelated, half-broken, barely play-able toys that all seem to need a "misc" box. I've done a decent job of labeling clear containers with words and pictures and currently have categories like "people," "vehicles," "food," "dishes," "music," "puzzles," etc...but each one is SO full, and only about 20% (max) ever get played with at one time. The rest ends up littered all over my house or in the wrong box - a symptom of too many toys being thrown into too many "misc" boxes that are much too deep and sneaky to really keep track of anything well. Still, I feel like I'm at least not starting at ground zero - we have a system; it's just inundated.

My initial brainstorming page started like this:

I basically narrowed down my general play categories using some help from her website, our own toy inventory, and my experience in a preschool setting. Then I starting separating out our inventory in order to get the best use out of each activity. For things like books or plush toys, I figure I will consolidate the massive amounts of what we have, and then break down the slightly-less massive collection into rotating groups. For some things, I thought a "theme" would be fun, so for a week or two, we could have pirate/nautical themed dress up clothes, fish/sea creature plush toys, and maybe an art activity that goes along as well (if I'm feeling particularly zealous).

Today I started with the dress up bin. It's currently overflowing and only a handful of things actually get worn. As I sorted through our collection, a few natural categories emerged (though I did throw in a princess/superhero dress/cape or two into each rotating bag since those are consistent favorites, and Lord knows my children can imaginatively incorporate a princess or superhero character into almost any play activity or theme).

After raiding the house top to bottom for any and all dress-up items, I finally came up with 4 rotating bags - loosely themed: "Pirates/Nautical," "Vocations," "Fantasy/Medieval," and "Animals." I labeled each trash bag, put the 3 off-rotation groups into the garage for storage until I come up with a giant bin for rotating toys, and re-filled the dress-up bin with the simplified Collection 1, which filled the bin about 1/3 of the way. WOOHOO!



I also assembled a clear (easily visible) accessory bag for smaller items like jewelry and shoes - which are (OBV!) necessary regardless of the play theme, or even whether one is dressed like a princess, a black cat, or a police officer. That bag will stay with the dress up bin each week as I rotate. It will continue to be the bain of my existence all over the house, I'm sure - but they are only kids once!











Time to cross the "dress up" row off my brainstorming list, and tackle another item...stay tuned!

Who Is Like God?

It's seriously a sad, sad fact that the last blog I wrote was when Abri was a newborn. But I'll spare you the first paragraph of remorse with which most of my blogs start, because we have something SUPER AMAZING to share with you!

The Bollinger family will officially become a family of **6** on/around November 17th, 2015!!

P.S. The kids are REALLY into Dumbo right now ;)

But what's really amazing about this announcement is the backstory, so please hear me out as I detail how this all came about, and what an amazing miracle it all is!

After Abri was born, Jake and I were undecided about another child. I had always said I wanted 4, but we still needed to see how this whole family of 5 thing was going to work! Needless to say, I was starting to feel like we were missing one more (literally, like I would think I heard another baby crying upstairs all the time and then realize all 3 kids were already downstairs), like there was a void in our family - around when Abri was 7 or 8 months old. Knowing that all the other kids were 18 months apart, we decided that IF we wanted another one, we should either consider adoption soon, or try for another in the next few months. After a lot of prayer, both Jake and I agreed (separately, and then confirmed it together) that we wanted one more baby. For years we had been researching adoption, but we finally took the time to explore the local options (domestic and international), but no matter which route we took, it always ended up with a closed door. Either it wasn't financially doable for us, we couldn't be guaranteed a younger baby/toddler (which was important due to the age of our other kids), or we would be mostly restricted to children with developmental disabilities (which we honestly have no problem with and would seriously consider, if one of our children didn't already have a diagnosis and so many therapy needs). Ultimately, we just kept hearing "no." So in January, we decided to at least give another pregnancy a shot, and see what happened.

January was also when God revealed His "One Word/Attribute" which is a tradition I carry instead of choosing a New Year's Resolution. Basically it's a characteristic of God (not ME) that I want to focus on that coming year. Some of you may remember, but this is how 2015 started for me:

I felt led to remember that there is NONE like God this year, and oh my WORD, has He been faithful to show me that! However, for the first couple months of trying to conceive, it was sometimes hard to remember. Right away, I noticed that what had always been very easy for us (even with a strange cycle, I always knew right where I was, and have always conceived on the first "try"), was suddenly a huge roadblock. After having Abri, it seems my hormones were a hot mess, and not only did I have a shorter cycle, but my luteal phase (between ovulation and the next cycle - should be about 10-14 days) was only 2 or 3 days long. This is called a "luteal phase defect," and it's usually due to insufficient progesterone levels. The problem is that even if you manage to succeed in conceiving, there is NO TIME for it to implant (which usually takes at least 9 or 10 days) before you start your cycle again. I tried a variety of natural/wholistic remedies, and finally after a few months of unsuccessful attempts, I made an appointment with my midwife to possibly seek out oral progesterone (my mortal enemy because it makes me sicker than a dog), or some other method, and to be honest, I wasn't excited about the idea of very much intervention and started considering just "giving up" if it wasn't meant to be.

I was told I had to wait longer, have more blood tests, and then we'd try to figure out a strategy, but I was feeling heartbroken because time was running out for our kids to be as close in age as we had hoped given the spacing of the first 3, and I really for some reason felt this baby was supposed to come in 2015 as a testimony of that "One Attribute" God had so clearly spoken to me. We came home from the midwife feeling defeated, and wondering if it was time to throw in the towel. Maybe 3 kids was enough, and we were making the rest up in our heads? But still, the idea of never being able to hold the baby in my arms that was almost tangible to me already, felt like a huge...HUGE loss. Even after going through a miscarriage years ago, facing the challenge of infertility, even just for a few months, gave me a whole new perspective on the struggle that so many women face every day. I've felt that horrible, horrible longing and grief, and I hear your hearts <3 It was in that grief that night that we made love again - this time not expecting or hoping for anything, but just sharing in each other's sorrow and taking comfort in the partnership that God has blessed us with (sorry if TMI - you decided to read this, and at least I'm not describing milk spraying from my ta-tas like in previous posts).

And then, as I was preparing to go in for a blood test on day 1 of my cycle (a couple days later)...I realized that "day 1" wasn't happening. Suddenly as opposed to the typical cycle on/around day 25, I was at day 27 or 28 and still nothing. That was "late" for me, so I decided to take a home pregnancy test...JUST in case (in total, total disbelief and doubt - forgive me, God!).

Negative, right? Yeah, that's what we thought, too....but then if you kind of look off-center from the left "line"...you can almost....

ALMOST....

see it.

Probably mostly because we wanted to. But there was no line, right? I mean, how is that even possible? 2-3 DAYS after conception??! It had to be our minds playing tricks on us.

I was due for the blood test anyway the next day, so I went in and had it done, and lo and behold, it showed an HCG level of 3. T-H-R-E-E. In embryo language, an HCG of 3 is like....non-existent. That's like someone accidentally got a skin cell or something in the blood sample or didn't read it right. Usually these levels are in the hundreds the first time you test. But, it was SOMETHING, so we trusted that God can do anything


because THERE IS NONE LIKE HIM



and we started on a dose of constant prayer and oral progesterone. A week went by and even on the progesterone, I had no symptoms (SUPER unusual for my pukey self). Just in case, I made sure to take this picture (secretly) while Kate was out visiting JUST IN CASE we could later say that we were both pregnant together (she had no idea I was doing this).

Then finally when I think the hormones got to higher levels in my system, it got baaaaad. I basically couldn't move without throwing up, and that was on round-the-clock Zofran. I wanted to take this as a good sign, but I also knew how much progesterone messes with me, and was honestly kind of grumpy that it was probably just a miscarriage anyway, yet I had to deal with this nausea while trying to care for 3 young kids. Forgive me, God.

For weeks we didn't share with anyone except a couple close prayer warriors, who totally stood alongside me in powerful prayer and petition on behalf of this little one. It was seriously one of the most miraculous experiences of my life. Specifically, my friend Regine, who has such a heart for prayer and intercession, prayed these prayers over us from very early on:

God, I ask that you would increase her HCG levels massively so they would be at just the right appropriate level for this ovum to become a BABY! God, I ask that the oral progesterone that Sarah starts taking will have IMMEDIATE effectiveness and that she would suffer absolutely no side effects. God, thank you for this miracle child. Thank you for this ovum. God, watch over this ovum like it's Jesus, the most precious son of yours. God, hold onto it and through your hands let there be a transference of HCG to the necessary levels for the baby to be healthy and strong as all of Sarah's other kids are, in Jesus' name, Amen

God, protect Sarah's heart from disappointment but keep increasing the HCG so she can have this baby to full term as a natural healthy woman carrying a beautiful healthy baby, in Jesus' name, amen.

And then, something amazing happened...

Amen! We received word yesterday that the HCG levels doubled, which they should be doing every day right now. Good news, but still SO early in the pregnancy, and my temperature has been really low/dropping for a couple days in a row now, which can usually mean miscarriage...

And God, increase Sarah's body temperature so much that she literally needs a fan to keep her body from overheating. Keep this baby in your watch and on it in Jesus' name, amen

(Haha I LOVE how that girl prays!)

At what the midwife estimated was about 6 weeks (from the size on the ultrasound), I had a low-tech ultrasound done to check for a heart beat. Jake was there, and we braced ourselves to find out if this was a baby or just a blighted ovum. The ultrasound showed a yolk sack, but no "baby." Our hearts dropped. We were told it *could* be because it was still so early, but there was no way to tell right now. Usually there is at least an incling of a heartbeat at 6 weeks, and some visible form of a baby...so we tried not to get our hopes up, but we couldn't help but feel God's presence and peace over the situation, especially with all that prayer surrounding us. A couple weeks later, we braced ourselves for a more conclusive ultrasound - this would tell us for sure. I prepared by asking for more prayer from sweet Regine...

Hey lady! Thanks for the good word today! I know it will reach a lot of people's hearts! Also, I wanted to let you know that I have another ultrasound scheduled today! The last one was really inconclusive - there was no heartbeat, but that could have been because it was still too early. I'm praying for clear confirmation today, and a visible, healthy heartbeat!

Yes!!!! Thank you for letting me know that!! I've been meaning to message you to ask what's been going on with the update.. WOW! this is sooo exciting!!!!! What time's your appointment?

About to start now! (We both prayed)

....

Oh my word...

praise God!!! There was a clear, strong heartbeat!!!!!!!! 

Everything looked very healthy and amazing - this is such a miracle! I can't thank you 

enough for the powerful, effective prayers!!

Based on dating from the second ultrasound, it turns out that the first ultrasound was only at 5 weeks, which explains the absence of a heart beat. Only God had the power to cause successful implantation in a quarter of the time that's normally necessary. Only God could provide the right amount of hormones when my body was fluctuating, even on the oral progesterone. Only God could create such a beautiful, perfect little life from nothing...


because people. There is NONE like GOD!

AND THEN! We found out (early at 10 weeks, because of an amazing new blood test that is offered and didn't even exist during Abri's pregnancy that I knew of!) that it's a BOY!! 

14 weeks - Hi, World!

14 week profile

Seriously guys, who is like God? There is none like Him. It was funny, because before we even knew the gender, Jake and I agreed that God had already chosen a perfect name for this little miracle baby. And He told it to us way back before we had even decided to try for another pregnancy.

Who is a God like you,
    who pardons sin and forgives the transgression
    of the remnant of his inheritance?
You do not stay angry forever
    but delight to show mercy.

Micah 7:18

Micah (/ˈmaɪkə/; Hebrew: מִיכָה) - Hebrew variant of Michael - Who is like God? Gift from God

Please join us as we prepare to welcome baby MICAH into our family this November - a living testimony of the power and sovereignty of a God who can do anything!!

11-12-13

As I type this, our newest bundle is sitting happily on my lap watching my fingers and hiccupping while her older siblings nap. I am reminded every day how incredibly blessed I am to live this life and to have been chosen as the mommy to these three amazing children. God has been so faithful in His plan for each one of them, and it's about time we shared the story of sweet Abri Joan's arrival into this world!

Like all my pregnancies, I started experiencing uncomfortable contractions between 17 and 20 weeks. But after one night in the ER at 28 weeks, we learned that I was already dilated to 2cm! I tried to stay as inactive as possible (chasing two toddlers around all day....), but I was almost positive that Abri would come early and remember feeling SO much relief as each week passed and we finally made it to full-term. And then...the weeks started to drag on and my hopes of her coming early started to dwindle. I had been extremely prepared the whole time (given how quickly the other two came). We had back-up plans, back-up plans for our back-up plans, and even packed the car each night just in case we had to make a mad dash to the hospital. Every night, the contractions would be less than 5 minutes apart for hours at a time (much like the other pregnancies), but they wouldn't increase in intensity. A head/chest cold was being passed around our house, and I was quickly losing energy for what I expected to be a fast and intense labor and delivery any day. I tried to stay motivated, but it was getting hard to drag the kids to school and therapy appointments while being so physically and emotionally drained, always on the edge of having to drop everything and speed to the hospital. For the sake of convenience and for my own sanity, in those last couple weeks we tried everything - walking, "labor-stimulating" foods, dancing, hanky-panky (wink), acupressure/foot massage, a cervical stretch to 3+cm/90% effacement by my midwife...the list goes on. I was terribly sick with a cold that I couldn't kick, and I had a feeling that my body was going to be too drained to fight it until my immune system wasn't compromised by the pregnancy anymore. Heck, just the amount of coughing alone should have put me into labor. But day after day....nothing. Meanwhile I was getting sicker and sicker, and just prayed that I'd be able to breath well enough when the time came.
Oxygen is pretty important.
Ya know.

After a restless evening of obsessive nesting and cleaning (you'd think this was a sign, but I had been doing this every night for like 3 weeks - Jake had just about had it with me), around midnight on my due date (11-12-13) I noticed some mild, but decently consistent contractions. Still nothing out of the ordinary for me. A little while later, I woke Jake up to tell him that I thought this might be it, only because I was hoping so much that it was, and they didn't seem to be going away, even though they still were not incredibly consistent or painful. We didn't exactly want to call and wake up Jake's parents to drive all the way over if it wasn't absolutely the real thing, but we also didn't want to wait too long, because last time we finally figured out it was the "real thing," Eden was born just one hour later. Both Jake's parents' house and the hospital were about 15 minutes away (in opposite directions), so we spent the next hour debating what to do and trying to figure out if it was real. We finally decided that even if it wasn't active labor yet, it was probably at least a precursor to the real thing, and given how fast things can go, we decided to chance it and call Jake's parents. When they came over, we told them to just go to bed, and we did the same. I honestly don't remember exactly what time we finally left for the hospital. Probably around 3:30am. I still wasn't even positive I was in labor, but I didn't want to have the baby in the car, so we went.

We had been given orders to call my midwife directly on her cellphone as soon as we thought I was in labor, as well as the ER and the labor and delivery department, given my history of precipitous births. When we showed up, everyone was in rush-mode except me (I was praying that I was actually in labor and hadn't just red-alerted the entire birthing center for nothing). It turns out I was about 4cm (they checked me around 4:30ish am), and I was actually quite proud that I made it there with plenty of time, but still avoided a false alarm. Woohoo! We hung out, did the mandatory 20 minutes of fetal monitoring (something new for me - usually I'm pushing by the time they want to do that), chatted, and my awesome midwife even honored my request to not have an IV line put in (I've never even had IV fluids, but it's sort of hospital policy to put a line in just in case). We discussed the risks and what would happen if I suddenly needed it, which I was fine with, but decided against making me walk around with an annoying intravenous device in my arm. I was pretty exhausted after waking up the previous day at 7am, and not getting any sleep, but seriously. Who can sleep when they're in active labor (without drugs)? Oh, right.

Husbands, that's who.

It was way too exciting for me, and we all expected that the next time she checked me, I'd be almost complete. Less than an hour later (5:00am), I was 6cm, so that part went pretty fast, and was barely noticeable, thankfully. I finally got to enjoy hanging out in the tub (FINALLY!!! I've waited 3 times to be able to labor in a tub!), and it was so relaxing and peaceful. I also texted with my sister and sister-in-law for a while (Cassie's daughter was diagnosed with posterior tongue tie like Eden, so we had lots to talk about regarding latching behavior and getting her clipped, etc. According to a text message I sent her, Jake was passed out on the chair around that time.) Meanwhile, my texts with my sister went like this:

Yeah. With my history, the fact that it took a looong 40 minutes for me to get from 6 to 7cm basically left us in shock. And bored. We decided to have her break my water, even though I'm generally against intervention, only because all the other times, that was the catalyst for rapid progression, and I was exhausted and very sick (breathing was not fun)...and I figured the longer things took, the less oxygen she'd have access to. Confused about the slow progression even after my water broke, my midwife finally determined that little Abrielle was in a right occiput posterior (ROP) position. Apparently this can lead to 20+ hour, extremely painful labors (but of course I didn't focus on that at the time - I just kept praying that things would pick up and that we wouldn't need intervention).

I kept waiting to feel the "transition" feelings, knowing that I was at least 7cm, but I still felt like I was in early labor. Not only that, but my contractions still weren't even consistent, and if I stayed in one position for too long (or walked, believe it or not), they would dwindle and get less intense/frequent! So, because I happen to have a hypersensitive uterus (weird, right?) I was trying to "give myself" contractions by standing up, sitting down, laying on my right side, standing up, cat-cows, using the ball...etc etc....yeah. Some women are scared of contractions. I was doing everything I could to make them more intense and frequent, all the while chatting with my midwife. It turns out that she has one biological and one adopted child. We chatted about adoption, since that's something Jake and I have always been interested in, and are considering for our fourth. Yep, we chatted about a fourth child while I was in labor with my third. This went on for some time until Jake woke up, and I finally utilized his mad birth partner skillz when my back started to get sore (he learned them in our doula's childbirth prep class back in 2010 and we haven't really needed them yet since things tend to move so fast). For the record, he is a PRO double-hip squeezer, and definitely got his workout in for the night. He earned his keep. This picture was probably taken around 7-8am, and I'm guessing that I was probably about 8cm dilated around then.

Around 8am I started really fatiguing. It was hard to cough (though I always needed to), hard to breath, and I barely had a voice. I also hadn't slept in 24+ hours, so in combination of being so physically sick, I was kind of sleepy and delirous. That's also when it started feeling pretty uncomfortable (still didn't feel like transition, but at least I could feel some intensity), and like I wasn't getting enough oxygen. All you ladies out there - try your darndest to NOT go through natural labor when you can't breath. Little tip. Finally a little after 9am, I felt kind of like pushing and asked my midwife to check me. I was 9.5cm, so she told me to "push to 10," which was the weirdest thing ever, because I didn't "have" to push yet. So far I've only been told *not* to push, so the idea of pushing before I had the urge was just strange. But it worked, and 3 contractions (10 minutes) later at 9:29am, she was here! And she was absolutely PERFECT and GORGEOUS! We were immediately in love!

Abrielle Joan just seconds into the world!
7lbs, 6oz and 21.25 inches

When all was said and done, Abri was born about 9 hours after the first incling of labor, about 5 hours after getting to the hospital (still doubting I was in labor), and about 1.5 hours after things started feeling intense/uncomfortable. Overall, even though I was not feeling well, we needed zero intervention, and the fact that I was able to stay calm and confident in God's control over the situation really helped reduce my discomfort. Looking back and knowing that she was "stuck" in the ROP presentation, which can take a really long time, be extremely painful, and often end in medical intervention or a C-section, I have so much to be thankful for! AND I didn't have my baby in a car!! My first two labors may have been "easy" and "quick," but this time God showed me that He can take us through the "less-than-ideal," and He is still SO faithful to renew our strength and bless us with beautiful outcomes that we couldn't have planned more perfectly!

He gives power to the weak

and strength to the powerless.

Even youths will become weak and tired,

and young men will fall in exhaustion.

But those who trust in the Lord will find new strength.

They will soar high on wings like eagles.

They will run and not grow weary.

They will walk and not faint.

~Isaiah 40:29-31~

What's in a Name?

Choosing a name for our children has always been an extremely important process for both Jake and I, as I'm sure it is for many people of faith. Biblically, names have always carried a TON of meaning. There are hundreds of names for God and/or Jesus, and if you pay attention, you'll see that God gives prophetic wisdom to His people as they choose names for their children. The reason is that words are powerful and carry meaning, and thus names denote an essence of character or purpose for each of God's people. He chose them before time began. They are kind of a big deal.  

"In Hebrew, a name is not merely a convenient conglomeration of letters. Rather the name reveals its essential characteristic. The Midrash (Genesis Raba 17:4) tells us that the first man, Adam, looked into the essence of every creature and named it accordingly. The donkey, for example, is characterized by carrying heavy, physical burdens. So in Hebrew, the donkey is named chamor – from the same root as chomer, which means materialism. (Contrast this with English, where the word "donkey" doesn't reveal much about the essence of a donkey!) The same idea applies to names of people. For example, Leah named her fourth son Judah (in Hebrew, Yehudah). This comes from the same root as the word "thanks." The letters can also be rearranged to spell out the holy Name of God. The significance is that Leah wanted to particularly express her "thanks to God." (Genesis 29:35)" http://www.aish.com/jl/l/b/48961326.html 

Jake and I had almost no problem at all coming up with names for Eli and Eden. It was almost like God literally whispered the names in our ears, and we were both 100% confident about both of them from the beginning of the pregnancy (or before - God showed me Eden's name before Eli was even born!). In fact, if we ever have another boy, God has already given us both a name for him as well. But when we found out that we were having a girl this time, we were at a TOTAL loss about a name! We prayed about it, and decided to give it some time, but to be honest, it was freaking me out a little bit that the others had come so easily, and this was just plain hard! We exhausted all the baby books and online resources. We read forums and Hebrew name listings, and talked to so many friends to see what names they liked. I had more than a few that I loved, but Jake didn't like any (this was a tad bit frustrating for me, especially since he couldn't really suggest many himself). I would soon realize that my super-discerning, picky husband would be a wonderful gift to me, and the reason we ended up choosing the name that God ultimate wants for our little girl, rather than just a pretty-sounding name that I happened to like.

As the months went by, I started feeling a little disconnected than I had in previous pregnancies. Not only had we always learned the gender, but by knowing the name ahead of time, we had been able to talk to them more intimately, bond with them more deeply, think about the "essence" of their character, their possible futures and giftings, etc. I was getting worn out emotionally as I considered the fact that we may just have to "settle" on a name (rather than "THE" name)...and we'd probably have a baby who sadly goes unnamed for like 3 weeks after she is born. I couldn't hear God (at least not clearly), and to be honest, I probably wasn't listening...or trusting, for that matter.

Then one day, I came across a name that I loved and had never heard before: Azriel/Azrael, which is technically a boy's name in Hebrew, but means "God is my aid/help," and is a lot like "Israel." <3 <3 It reminded me of Arielle/Ariel, which Jake's sister had loved and recommended to us after we revealed the gender (but was a bit too over-used/trendy and reminiscent of mermaids for me, even though I do love the sound and meaning of the name). I was all excited that this could be "the one," until Jake started researching it and figured out that it's also the name of the angel of death in many religions, not to mention a really creepy heavy metal band. It kind of lost its appeal after that, unfortunately. So sad :(

I went up to my room to fold laundry (and mourn a little bit), and out of nowhere, I heard as clear as a bell in my head:

ABRIELLE

My heart leaped as I called to Jake and immediately started praying for confirmation and asking God if this was really it. Not only was it beautiful, but the potential nicknames are SO adorable (Bri, Brielle, Elle, Ella, and my personal favorite - Abri). Jake, who was rather sick of the conversation at this point, said it was pretty, but after a quick look at the computer, informed that it wasn't Hebrew or Biblical (which is important to us). It happens to be a name in Italian and French which is similar to "Gabriel" or "Gabrielle," meaning "God is my strength." Still a cool meaning, but not Hebrew. Heart sinks. Again.

It was at this point that I sort of "gave up." I could have sworn I heard God's voice on this, but maybe He still had another one in mind, and I just had to be patient. For the first time, I was patient. We had others that came up on the radar, but nothing gave me that spirit-leap like Abrielle. So we waited and kept praying. You know when God has already answered a prayer and made it abundantly clear to you, but you're so blind that you just keep asking Him about it over and over? Yeah...(insert palm to forehead). Finally, I happened to see the name "Abri" online one day, and out of curiosity decided to look it up. It's a name in many languages (including Italian and Hebrew), and it's basically the feminine version of Abraham (another well-known Hebrew name), which means "father of many nations."  The feminine "Abri" could also mean "mother of many nations," but I still loved the father meaning for some reason (weird for a girl's name, right??). Then it HIT me like God had finally decided to smack me over the head with it in the clearest way possible (thank you Lord!). "El" in Hebrew means God, and denotes His might, strength, and power. We chose ELi ("the Lord is my God") and Eden ELizabeth (delight, God is my oath) with that in mind. Suddenly, I realized that ABRI EL DOES have meaning in Hebrew; it just didn't exist as a formal name yet!! And it's meaning brought me to tears: GOD is FATHER over MANY NATIONS! It's like a prophetic statement of declaration every time it is spoken. On top of that, it also means (in other languages) "God is my strength," which, after all of the issues I've had this pregnancy (low progesterone/borderline miscarriage, health problems, early contractions, early dilation, apparent growth issues, etc.), I KNOW for a fact that God gave this precious little girl the strength to survive it all! And I know He'll continue to be her strength as she lives her life, with a character that speaks to God's authority over, and love for the nations. It's amazing to think I had doubted God for even one second with this. He is SO good, and we can't wait to meet our beautiful
                                              strong, 

                                                           chosen 

                                                                          little world-changer,
                                                                                                              ~Abrielle~

in just a few more weeks. <3

The Best Kinds of Stories

This week is Rosh Hashanah (the Jewish New Year), which is a celebration of the kingship of God, and a time for repentance, reflection, and drawing near to the King of kings. It's also a time to celebrate the coming of a sweet new year and looking forward to the blessings it holds. It's a pretty freaking amazing holiday. One of my favorites for sure. I find it so incredible that God chose this specific time to teach our family that He is in control, and that He is so, SO good.

(Spoiler alert! And I promise this relates...just keep reading) We were watching "Life of Pi" the other night, and despite the wonky theological conflicts that exist throughout the movie, there was a part that really stood out to me at the end. The main character (Pi) had just finished telling an atheist writer his story of surviving weeks at sea alone on a boat with a Bengal Tiger as a teenage boy after a shipwreck in the middle of the ocean. The story involved breathtaking sea creatures, miracles, wonders, a carnivorous island, and more. The writer had come to hear his story, and had challenged Pi to make him believe in God at the end of it. After Pi told this amazing, beautiful, elaborate, and generally unbelievable story, he also explained how authorities had asked him to come up with a more realistic, believable (and much more boring and sad) explanation of the events that took place for insurance claim purposes, etc. He proceeds to explain the fantastical story in more "realistic" terms (each animal represented a member of the crew....basically they all died and then he managed to survive until his life boat hit the Mexican shore). Neither story can be proven wrong, but one sounds too amazing to be true. But does that mean it wasn't?

Since Eli was 18 months old, he has been receiving services through an amazing early childhood program in Bellevue called Kindering. They have been working with him on his speech, sensory processing, and motor planning areas, and from the time he was 2, he has been in an integrated preschool classroom of 2-3 year olds to help prepare him for the basic routine of school. Since day one, we knew that Eli had his own way and speed of developing. Certain areas were a little behind, and certain areas were noticeable strengths for him. He has continued to show amazing progress and is quite functional overall (no diagnoses, and most people probably wouldn't notice much of a problem), but we know deep down that he would benefit from continued special services as he transitions into preschool. Unfortunately, kids have to be 4 before the first day of the school year in order to start public preschool here in WA. That means Eli (born in October) would have to wait almost an entire year after most kids, and start when he's almost 5. Normally that wouldn't be a problem, but with the Kindering services about to stop at age 3, Eli will have to go almost 2 years without exposure to special needs services (in the midst of classroom distractions, which the hardest for him). We can choose to pay a bunch of money for a private preschool starting at age 3 (most of which wouldn't cater to his types of needs or provide any therapy, anyway), and/or pay co-pays/deductibles for a bucket-load of clinical therapy services outside the school (which tend to be a little overboard for his borderline needs, anyway), and miss out on the classroom setting that he so desperately needs.

The only other option for us was an evaluation with our local school district to see if he qualifies for school-based IEP services. If he did successfully qualify, that would mean he could start FREE preschool 4 days a week (2.5 hours a day) right when he turns 3. It would be a seamless transition from the Kindering program to regular preschool, and he could continue to receive speech/sensory, etc. services in the classroom, but still be around typically-developing kids who serve as great role models for him. Sounds perfect, right? The only catch is that he is such a borderline kid and has so many splintered skills (and the school district has such rigid criteria) that we really weren't convinced that he would qualify for anything. And because we had to wait until he's almost 3 to do the evaluation, we are right at the start of the school year when it would be too late to start another option if he doesn't qualify (most have wait-lists for miles). Lastly, were he to qualify, the school district would provide a free bus system with at-home pickup/drop-off....and well, you might be able to imagine my excitement at this when you remember that I'll also have a newborn, an 18 month old, and it will be the start of the flu-filled, cold, rainy season in Seattle as all this starts up. All in all, this was our only ideal option to get our son's needs met, and we were praying hard for SOME type of qualifying scores (...without praying for severe developmental delays, of course!), even in just one area, but we still had our doubts and were prepared for the "less than" ideal.

After months of waiting, this morning was Eli's school district evaluation. I was as nervous as I used to be on high school exam days, and didn't even know what to pray for, honestly. I of course wanted him to qualify, but I didn't want him to live with the stigma of severe developmental delay (or be treated as such) if he really didn't have it. I wanted him to behave well for the therapists and be in a good mood for the next couple hours, but I also knew that at his best, he barely shows any signs of delay, and I wanted them to see his real needs. I wanted to be honest with the standardized parent reports, but not give the impression that he is better off than he actually is (for instance, saying that he can do something, even if he's only done it once or twice in his life). I wanted him to qualify for services, but I really wanted a classroom setting specifically (not just therapy services at the school once or twice a week). Then, I realized that I was spending entirely too much time thinking about WHAT I needed to pray for, rather than TO WHOM I was praying. Especially during this season of the Jewish New Year (Rosh Hashanah), I was reminded that God is our Lord (which pertains to dominion and authority) and King. He knows our needs better than we do, and He is in total control. Finally, I threw up my hands and just asked God to be God in this situation. If He could create the world and humanity into existence (we celebrate the anniversary of this during Rosh Hashanah), He could help Eli qualify in at least one of these developmental areas!

The hours passed (I was pulled into a separate room to do parent interviews for most of it), and the next thing I knew, the entire team was gathered into a room to discuss the results and the next plan of action. All the therapists looked like they had just met a new baby niece or nephew. They were beaming from ear to ear and talking among themselves about how incredibly sweet and "angelic" (I'm not making this up) Eli was. They couldn't stop telling me how he was one of the happiest, gifted, most well-mannered kids they've ever had the pleasure of working with, and they had the highest hopes for him because of his amazing disposition and desire to learn and engage with them. This all made me very proud, of course....but it did make me concerned that he was not going to qualify for anything! Then, as they each went around the room to discuss their findings, I learned that although Eli was not significantly delayed in any one area (which is one method of qualifying), he had enough very mild delays in enough areas that he DOES in fact qualify for preschool!!!! On top of that, each of the therapists explained that although he showed some minor delays, his improvements and readiness to learn have been great, and they expect this to simply be a beneficial "boost" to really get him caught up and ready for school success. It was like hearing the best possible scenario while still getting the services we were looking for. We also learned that he is going to receive *all* the services areas he needs while in the classroom (even the ones he is almost typical in), so I won't have to drag him to (or pay for) separate private therapy. Lastly, he'll be attending an amazing, amazing school which just happens to be 5 minutes up the road from our house. It's the only school in our area that provides these services, so we feel so blessed to be so close. And he gets the bus service. It's everything we wanted, and more.

I almost (happy) cried in front of them all. I suppose I could have blamed it on the pregnancy hormones...

I had desperately cried out to God to just make this work somehow, and He responded by exceeding every expectation I had (even my very best expectations). He literally blew them out of the water. I love when His plans make our own imaginations and desires seem boring and deficient. I love when the barely-believable and the barely-imaginable become reality.

Remember the two stories that Pi told the writer in "Life of Pi"? The final conversation went as follows:

PI: Can I ask you something?
WRITER: Of course.
PI: I've told you two stories about what happened out on the ocean. Neither explains what caused the sinking of the ship, and no one can prove which story is true and which is not. In both stories, the ship sinks, my family dies, and I suffer.
WRITER: True.
PI: So which story do you prefer?
WRITER: The story with the tiger. That's the better story.
PI: Thank you. And so it goes with God.

Later, after Pi had left the room, the writer was going through the police reports from the incident, and it actually confirmed that there was an adult Bengal tiger on the lifeboat with Pi. I'm not sure what the movie writer meant when he wrote this statement about God, but I'll tell you what it meant to me. It seems to me that the (often barely-believable) beauty and power of God's workmanship holds more reality and truth than the dull "reality" that some people would rather believe in. In other words, God REALLY is THAT good. He really does exceed our expectations and go above and beyond our wildest dreams in a way that, without faith, would probably look like a rather unbelievable story. But it's always the best, most preferable story. Trust me.

"Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen." -Ephesians 3:20

L'Shanah Tovah!