National Infertility Awareness Week: How to #StartAsking and Support Family Building

I don't know what it's like to receive a diagnosis of infertility. When it took me nearly a year to conceive our first child, my fertility appointment got changed to my first prenatal visit as I found out I was pregnant after months of trying. I don't know how devastating that diagnosis can feel, so I'm not going to act like I can understand what a couple is going through as they learn that news.

Many of you are like me, in the 90% of couples who are able to conceive within a year of trying. But, apart from actually having the babies in our arms, we are exactly like the other 10% of mothers and fathers waiting to hold their precious bundles of joy. We have felt the desire to want an expression of our devotion to raise as our own. We have known the gut-wrenching love inside of us waiting to erupt into the next generation. We understand the soulful yearning that echoes beyond our own purpose into something bigger than ourselves. In this, we are united. We are parents...with babies or without.

This week is National Infertility Awareness Week, and it's a silent epidemic on relationships that many are too confused or uncomfortable to address. But, as long as we're all here on this crazy planet together, I think we need to do our best to raise awareness and support for those couples who are holding up love and patience in the wings. If it takes a village to raise a child, then the village helps now and not just after the pregnancy test turns pink.

You probably know someone who has had trouble conceiving or sustaining a pregnancy. Most of us know stories of miraculous conceptions, incredible adoptions, or IVF success. When we know a couple is trying, it can be awkward and difficult to know what to say or how to help. But, many times, we don't know the intimate details of a couple's struggle. Often, as the topic is sensitive and unique for each couple, we simply don't know who may be walking through this tender and challenging season.

RESOLVE.ORG is the website for the National Infertility Association and they've started a campaign to help #StartAsking how to support couples dealing with infertility. There is a myriad of resources and information on the website for couples, family, and friends who want to help with this issue.

Not sure where to start? 

Here's a great List of 25 Things To Say (And Not To Say) To Someone Living With Infertility

You can also learn about Fertility Facts here or Reproductive Facts so that you can educate yourself and build the support you or your friends need through this journey.

While I may not personally know the journey of infertility, it's a topic I study a lot in my research for helping couples and families. I fill in the gaps of my experience with facts and testimonies that help me gain understanding. And I try to empathize as much as possible, using other experiences I've had that remind me what it's like to have dreams crushed or hopes unraveled.

The feeling of disappointment is universal, so you have something to offer to this community even if infertility hasn't been part of your personal narrative. 

Building awesome families is close to my heart, and my own little brood was loved long before I held them in my arms. If you're reading this, you probably relate!

Pray for those couples still waiting in the wings, be sensitive and compassionate, and do what you can to learn more. You never know who God will place in your path that might become part of the incredible village that is raising our next generation.

For those waiting to hold babies... I love you. I might not know who you are, but your patience and strength are incomprehensible. I hope with you. I pray with you. I believe that God has placed a calling on you in this time and season for a purpose greater than anything we can know or feel right now. And I have faith in the Heavenly Father that the beyond-yourself-love that you possess will not go unused. I lay your desires at His feet and I wait with you.

Psalm 130:5 NIV
I wait for the Lord, my whole being waits, and in his word I put my hope.

UPDATE: Below is a helpful info-graphic made by the team at OvulationCalculator.com who offered it to me to share with you! Check out their website for more helpful tips about #NAIW and how to #StartAsking.

C-Sections Are Easy...and Other Lies

I've heard it once, I've heard it too many times..."C-sections are the easy way out."

original photo by Mathieu Photography of Daphne's birth

Now, I'm not one to get a megaphone and stand on a soapbox, but there are times and places when the record needs to be set straight and that is one of those comments I just can't bite my tongue if I hear it.

I've had three c-sections now (two unplanned, one scheduled) and I'm here to pull back the curtain on the topic and debunk some common myths about cesarean sections once and for all.

Since most women don't plan for a c-section, many are fearful and undereducated when the time comes to get one if the need arises.  With nearly a third of all births ending in surgery today, it still shocks me how much is left unknown to the mother prior to entering the OR.  Since it's so rarely anticipated, many mothers-to-be don't feel the need to understand what might happen if they need a c-section, often leading to disappointment and fear if their birth plan leads down that road.

If you are pregnant, I hope this list not only stirs up some good questions for you to consider, but I hope it helps shed some light on a very confusing topic that can feel too controversial to ask questions about (after all, if you are asking questions about c-sections, how serious can you be about planning a natural, drug-free birth?  Right?  Rubbish.)

Here we go.

1.  C-sections are the easy way out.

Let me dispel this myth in one sentence:  There is no easy way to get a human body out of a human body. 

I labored for 20 hours before my first c-section and it didn't make me any more of a hero than when I waited patiently for "my turn" this last birth.  They don't install a zipper to easily access the baby the next time - so, even if you've had a cesarean in the past and know what to expect, there is still a new scar and a long recovery to regain feeling and control of those stomach muscles that have just been cut through.

While it might take a shorter amount of time to get the baby out, a c-section (usually) has a much longer recovery with different hurdles to overcome than a vaginal delivery.  (Note, I didn't say harder, just different - every birth and every woman is different!)  But, I will tell you that having your body cut in half to remove a human is not easier than pushing a St. Bernard through a pinhole.  Neither are short of a miracle.

2.  You can't do skin-to-skin.

False.  I was the first person to hold my baby girl as soon as she was safely out of my body.  The doctor placed her directly on my bare chest and I immediately got to snuggle her up since my hands were free to move (even if I did have an IV in and a pulse monitor on my finger).

With my first two c-sections, my husband got to do skin-to-skin with the babies before I did.  The hospital we were at only offered it like that and we didn't know to ask any different at the time.  But, as I learned more, I knew to ask about it this last birth and was able to experience the "first hold" for myself (magic!)

Skin-to-skin is beautiful and healthy, and I would absolutely encourage it regardless of your birth plan.

3.  You don't bleed as much.

Sorry to say, this is not so.  In fact, during the c-section you lose much more blood than in a vaginal delivery.  But, many women believe that's where the bleeding stops - in the OR.  False.

While the placenta is removed in the surgery, there is still plenty of blood and tissue that needs to be shed after the birth.  Just as in a vaginal delivery, this makes its way out naturally and blesses you (ha) with a period that can last 6-8 weeks after the birth.  So, buy those Hummer-size pads for overnight protection and stock up - you're gonna need them no matter how this baby comes out.

4.  Resuming sex will be easy.

This is another myth that many women aren't asking enough questions about.  Look, clearly you were sexually active prior to the pregnancy, so why are you shy about asking your doctor about resuming sex after you've been given the green light (around 6 weeks, same as with a vaginal delivery).  Truth be told, your body has been through trauma so any activity (whether walking, kayaking, or having sex) is going to feel different at first.

Your hormones have crashed after birth and might be going haywire (which could cause night sweats, vaginal dryness, and other uncomfortable sensations) and if you are breastfeeding your skin is going to be super dry.  All this to say, tread lightly and patiently.

Your sex life will resume, but not without its setbacks.  Talk to your husband about your physical limitations and set your expectations accordingly.  Be liberal with lubrication, take a deep breath, and know that the more honest you are up front, the easier it will be to help get your intimacy back on track.  However painful it may be in the beginning, rest assured that your body is still healing and this frustrating phase is only temporary.

5.  C-sections aren't natural.

Name me one thing that is natural about experiencing a miracle?  The myth isn't that c-sections are natural, the myth is that childbirth in any form is.

By definition, a miracle is supernatural.  True, your body can't inform itself to be prepared for surgery.  No, labor may not precede every birth.  But, when you hold a new creature in your arms for the first time and witness their first breath and cries and feel your heart melt at the sight of them, there is no denying that all the preparation in the universe couldn't have come close to readying you for this moment.

No miracle is natural, so the shock and exhilaration of being part of one is going to feel extraordinary regardless of the means it took to experience it.


No doubt there is a lot of confusing information about childbirth floating around the internet.  It can be hard to wade through the fact and fiction and prepare yourself for what to really expect.  The best thing I can tell you is to try and learn from others' stories and do your best to learn the facts of multiple scenarios.  While a c-section might be the last thing on your mind, it also might be necessary when the time comes and the more information you are armed with up front, the less scary or disappointing it can be.

Don't let the joy of a miracle be stolen by the fear of the unknown.  Have more questions about c-sections?  Comment below or hit me up at emily@pardymama.com

Five Reasons To Have A Birth Plan

Let me start off by saying (and meaning) this:  There's no wrong way to have a baby.

Photo from Daphne's birth by Mathieu Photography

My goal for giving birth has always been "walk away with a healthy baby that's mine".  If that's how my story ended, I knew I would be grateful and satisfied.  This didn't mean that everything would go how I wanted it to go, and it certainly didn't mean the baby would be delivered according to my plan (or anyone else's for that matter).

So, why have a birth plan?

Before my first baby was born, I over-educated myself into the illusion of security, learning as much as possible about nearly every birth-scenario so I could spare myself any surprises day-of.  But, babies don't read your plans or your minds, and when the time comes there is bound to be surprises whether you have prepared at all or not!

My first two daughters were spontaneous labors that went on for hours and hours drug-free, followed by an epidural, and ending in a c-section.  My third daughter's birth was a planned c-section, and while everything went according to schedule, I was glad to have thought through the day ahead of time.

Why spend all the energy and time thinking you are a hippie-mama going drug-free only to find out when push comes to shove (literally) that you turn out to be an epidural-getting drama queen?  Why sort through calming verses and meditations for soothing your anxiety and pain when you know you'll have an IV drip and get a c-section?

Here's why:

1. A Birth Plan helps YOU know what you want.  

You might not even know what your expectations are until you start to jot them down on paper.  You may have a vision (haphazard as it may be) for what the day looks like and still not realize that you have joy or disappointment hinging on small things like "wearing my favorite chapstick" when you are at the peak of a contraction.  A birth plan can help you sort through what's reasonable (dim lights) and what's preposterous (a tranquil haven that stays a perfect 70 degrees and silent with only the glow of a lavender scented candle to warm the setting).  It can help you weed through your ideals (drug free and natural) as well as your limitations and tolerance for what's acceptable (get.baby.out.)  Bottomline, you can't expect others to know what you'll need in your best/worst hour when you haven't taken the time to think through it yourself.

2. A Birth Plan helps OTHERS know what you want.

Even your beloved husband is scratching his head as to how he can best help you in your moment of dire need.  If you don't know by now that your husband can't read your mind, then I really hate to break it to you that your doctors and nurses can't either.  Even if you are planning a home birth with a doula or midwife, they are going to have questions about your comfort and pain management along the way.  If you are having a scheduled c-section, you'll still need to convey your opinions adamantly regarding things like cord cutting, skin-to-skin, and pain killer options.  Maybe you know what you want and you can easily inform those around you with the command of a drill sergeant.  But, for those of us not giving birth to robots, it will make it much easier in the long run if you have talked through your expectations ahead of time and how you prioritize those ideas.

3. A Birth Plan helps BABY remain the focus.

This seems counterintuitive.  How can a paper all about your expectations help keep the focus on your newborn?  Because the less everyone has to worry about wondering what you want and need, the more they can channel their skills and energy to that screaming creature who just entered into the universe.  If you can include choices about the baby on your birth plan as well, you can put your mind at ease knowing your birth plan can be easily referenced for your choices instead of trying to remember in the middle of it all if you chose salve-on-the-eyes for the baby or whether you wanted to postpone the Vitamin K shot.  A LOT happens just minutes after the birth, and you don't want the burden of "having to think" placed on your or your husband's brain.  Free it up so you can fully embrace the bliss of staring at that new little bundle of joy you just brought into the world.

4.  A Birth Plan helps HUSBANDS understand.

Sure, hubbies are included in #2.  But, more than just understanding your expectations, husbands have been (most likely) taking a crash course in all-things-baby since you announced the pregnancy.  Birth is SCARY - and that's totally normal.  It's a terrifying roller coaster of emotion to usher another human into the world, and your brain isn't meant to fully comprehend sentences like "What do you want to do with the placenta?" when you are just barely grasping the fact you took part in the creation of life.  A birth plan can help a husband truly take part in the process of labor and delivery, knowing how best his time and energy is spent in the midst of the wild ride.

5.  A Birth Plan helps MOTHERS in the future.

This blog is a perfect example!  Here I am, dishing about my own experiences, hoping to reach an audience of new mamas understand that their birth stories are important - no matter how the scenario plays out.  It's an opportunity to get to know why we think what we think about birth, share it with others, and help them understand their own journey.  Looking back across my three birth stories, I can compare them to the plans I had anticipated and grow from the story that ultimately came out of it.  It rarely goes how we think it will, right?  But, healing from disrupted plans can help us curb disappointments and turn them into lessons of hope for others.

When you are about to have a baby, it's easy to feel like the only person on the planet that's ever felt that way.  The more we can hold our expectations in our hands and learn to understand them, the easier it can be to let them go if the need arises.  After all, learning to adjust and adapt to the unpredictable will serve you well once that baby arrives (however that may be)!

So, I'm 35

Today I turn 35.  Or, as I like to tell people, "If you need advice on being 29, just ask me, I've been 29 for years now." [insert obligatory laugh track here]

I don't understand time.  I hate it, actually, and it makes no sense to me that yesterday I was in one phase of life and today I'm in another.  Yesterday I could check a different box on an assessment form and today I'm upgraded to the 35-40 margin of a census.  Sigh.  Time is dumb.  Time is a temporary restriction reserved to this planet, and my soul is restless in its grip.

But, the getting older part...that I like.  Society might tell me to pick up a wrinkle cream and start cutting back on sugar, sure.  Media compels me to worry about things like retirement funds and cholesterol, fine.  But, as my physical body reminds me I'm no teenager, my mind and spirit charge full-throttle ahead in anticipation of what I have yet to know in this life.

My teenage years were heaped in wonder, doubt, and naiveté.  My twenties were full of adventure and wrought with insecurity. My thirties are officially halfway over and so far it's been a roller coaster of decisions, milestones, and deep rooting.

Most of all, I have found incredible joy in learning what I do not know.  Getting a Masters degree, while a great accomplishment, reminded me that there are realms and realms of introspection and revelation awaiting me as I grow as a person.  I am in awe of anticipating what's left to discover about myself and how God will shape and use that in my time on this earth.

To say this last year has been exceptional would be an understatement in my book.  It's not that long ago that I would have laughed in your face if you told me I would have published a book, received my Masters, and had a baby all in one year! (Yes, I'm exhausted.) With these milestones under my belt, one can't help but reflect and project with some concern "Um, what now, God?"

So, I'm 35 and have no idea what's coming.  We have three children, no jobs, 2 Masters degrees, and our knees are somewhat sore from pleading with God to know what's around the corner.

And I wouldn't have it any other way.

At 35, I know much much less than I did when I was 20.  Because today I can calmly, confidently say that I know that there's so much I don't know.  I'm not insecure in this fact.  I'm not fearful or frustrated that there are uncertainties all around me.  Because of all the things I don't know, I know full well and better than ever before that my God has got me in His grip.

Commit your actions to the Lord, and your plans will succeed.  Proverbs 16:3

I can't tell you what the next 35 days hold, let alone the next 35 years.  But, I have 35 years to look back on as a testament of God's faithfulness and provision for me in this life.  As those days grow, I pray my trust in Him grows as well, allowing the wonders and doubts around me to blossom into His promises.

Thank you for my life, Lord.  Wring it dry with Your use.

Vivian's Birth Story

Vivian’s birth story is so different than her sisters’.  We knew since Daphne’s birth that if we were blessed with another child the birth would be a scheduled c-section.  After Matilda’s c-section and Daphne’sattempted VBAC that ended in a c-section, I learned that my body was not meant for vaginal delivery.  I had X-rays taken at a chiropractor a couple years ago that showed a curve in some lower vertebrae that would have made natural delivery impossible for me (which I didn’t know until after Daphne was born, otherwise I wouldn’t have attempted the VBAC!)

When my due date for Vivian came back as August 19^th, we requested the c-section to be scheduled on August 16^th – Josh’s birthday!  While most people don’t want to share their birthday, Josh was ecstatic at the idea and so I prayed my body would nestle that sweet baby until then.  Nearing the birth, our doctor let us know that they don’t usually schedule surgeries on the weekend, but it just so happened that she was going to be on-call for Sunday, August 16^th, so she was able to specially schedule us so that we could keep the date (granted, the baby’s well being was the most important thing in the world to us, but we were thrilled that we could keep the double-birthday dream alive!)

This pregnancy was wonderfully uneventful, but not easy for me.  At 34, I physically felt the difference of four years since my last baby.  I was also not in very good shape, so the additional 30ish pounds that I lumbered around with seemed extra taxing. While this pregnancy was planned for, I think I underestimated the toll it would take on my body while also raising 2 kids, finishing grad school, and working part-time at the mall.  Whew!  I did my utmost to appreciate every jab and kick and hiccup in the womb, knowing this temporary discomfort represented a lifetime of joy to come. 

As with my last two pregnancies, people started asking me if my due date was close when I was only about 20 weeks along.  I carry my babies like a beach ball, so my giant belly often bewildered people, as I would tell them how much longer I had to be pregnant.  I will admit that I’ve always found this part of pregnancy frustrating and hilarious.  I also knew that it was pretty much true since my first baby weighed 8lb. 9oz. and my second was 9lb. 5oz.  Chances were good this was no tiny pipsqueak I was carrying!

The week before Vivian’s birth was precious to me.  I savored little moments with the older girls and sat in the nursery praying over my belly, dreaming of how our family was about to change.  My parents made the big drive from Kansas and the night before the birth we got together with my brother’s family (who also live in Nashville) to have dinner together one last time before the big event.  While they celebrated with Mexican food I enjoyed a Smoothie King smoothie to soothe my pre-surgery tummy.  I couldn’t believe the time had finally arrived.

Knowing I was going to go into surgery within hours was nerve-wracking, no doubt.  Knowing I was going to have a baby was like anticipating the ultimate Christmas. It was super weird to know I was going to meet her soon.  Having gone into spontaneous labor with the previous two, this was a welcome change, but it felt as unnatural as it did peaceful.  I was too giddy about meeting her to really be worried about the surgery itself.  I knew that as uncomfortable as I was being pregnant, my pain would only increase post-partum before it got better.  Still, it was a wonderful change to be able to go to sleep (as restless as it was) and wake up to her birthday.

We woke up early and gathered our things.  The older girls were insistent on saying goodbye to us, even if it meant waking them.  So, even though it was just after 6am, we hugged Matilda and Daphne and bid adieu to our house of four Pardys as we headed for the hospital. 

Since it was Sunday, the hospital was nearly silent when we walked in.  We brought chocolate chip muffins for the nursing staff and quietly filled out paperwork as we put on our wristbands and I changed into the lovely (ha) light blue hospital gown. The nurses were extremely kind and each one of them smiled as we shared in the excitement of our baby girl sharing a birthday with her daddy.  We met the anesthesiologist, a few more nurses, and before we knew it the time had come.

I was rolled into the OR at 9:14am.  Josh was in the hall getting “suited up” in his daddy-hazmat suit, eager to join me.  It took 3 tries to insert the spinal block for the surgery (yes, this is as unpleasant as it sounds), but it wasn’t a surprise to me since my previous epidurals took a few tries as well (thanks lower vertebrae!)  Within seconds, my lower half was completely numb.  Josh came in and sat by my head as the curtain went up in front of our view. 

The tugging and pulling and pushing of a c-section are not without discomfort.  It’s one of the strangest sensations I can explain, being totally coherent and knowing you’re being turned inside out just inches away. We had requested a “family centered cesarean”, and as soon as her head emerged, they announced it was time to drop the curtain.  There was no way I could have prepared myself for what came next.

“Her head is out.  Are you ready to meet your girl?” the doctor asked.  I took a deep breath.  For some reason, when I imagined this scenario, it all felt very distant from me.  I thought about it as if from a third person experience, and only saw the baby as a blurry image. 

But, THERE SHE WAS.  Her little head, held in the hands of the doctor, inches in front of me and coming out of my own body.  It was shocking and beautiful and the most exhilarating moment of my life. The curtain and my giant belly blocked the view of anything disgusting (for which I am grateful, as I was a little hesitant if I could handle seeing anything too gruesome) They slowly “walked the baby out” which means they squeezed her slowly through the incision in order to best mimic a vaginal birth and help the infant squeeze out fluids that may have been ingested in the womb (which naturally occurs in a vaginal birth).  At 9:46am, she was out.

They quickly patted her down, cut the cord, and handed her down to me for immediate skin-to-skin.  Vivian was here.  My girl was here.  She was real and sweet and laying against the outside of my body.  I burst into tears.

Vivian Margot Blessing Pardy was here.  I said her name for the first time to someone other than Josh, and the whole staff starting congratulating us.  Everyone was so joyful; it felt like confetti should fall from the ceiling (apart from the fact that my body was totally opened up on the table, so I’m real glad it didn’t).

This was the first time I got to be the first one to hold my new baby.  In the past, they had always handed the baby to Josh for father skin-to-skin time.  But, this time, this hospital offered to let me hold her first and I jumped at the chance.  It was magical, to say the least, and nothing comes close to that feeling.

I was stitched up and Vivian was weighed and measured.  They transferred me to another bed and minutes later I was holding my precious baby again, getting rolled down the hallway to recovery, ready to show my little love to the world that awaited.  We passed by nurses and doctors and I was filled with so much love and joy that it honestly felt like my own little private parade (if I lived in a musical, this is the part where nurses turn into dancers and the doctor bursts into song).  We made it back to our recovery room where we swooned over our new bundle of joy and gathered our thoughts into words that didn’t hold a candle to the fireworks of feelings we held inside. 

Vivian, you are so loved.  We wanted you before we knew you, and we pray and hope your future holds as much joy as your arrival brought. You are our little blessing, and we know you will bless those who enter your presence.  You’ve already blessed me immensely and I can’t wait to get to know who you are and who you’ll become.  (But, feel free to take your time!)

Welcome, sweet girl.

Meet Vivian Margot Blessing Pardy

She's here!  She's arrived!  And though it's been a few weeks since I've touched the blog, I couldn't jump back into writing without first introducing you to the beautiful reason for a pause in my blogging...

Please join me in celebrating the arrival of my third daughter!

Vivian Margot Blessing Pardy

Born Sunday, August 16, 2015 

(on her daddy's birthday!)

at 9:46 in the morning

8lb. 1oz. and 18.75" long

She is a happy baby and her older sisters just adore her.  It hasn't been the easiest recovery for me, but I can't complain as I stare into the eyes of this perfectly healthy baby, thanking God for the miracle of another precious life that has been gifted to our family.

We've got a LOT of catching up to do - and I'm bursting with stories to share!  What was it like to have a planned c-section? How did the girls react to their new sister? How did you come up with that name? and so much more...

Here are some more pics of the sweet girl to stir up/appease your baby fever.  Enjoy!

How to Grow a Human in 9 Easy Months

It's the final stretch!

I'm scheduled to deliver this baby via c-section on Sunday, August 16th at 9am.  (Mark your calendars!  Prayers appreciated!)  That gives me five days to groan and gripe and worry about all the things that will probably not go awry.

Looking back, sure, these last nine months have flown by.  It's easy to gestate a human when you have mere days getting checked off the calendar.  Since this is my last (to my knowledge) pregnancy, I've tried my utmost to caress my growing midsection with patience and gratitude, knowing these violent jabs to my ribs and aching hips/back are oh-so-temporary.

But, I'm ready.

From 6 weeks to 39 weeks! WHOA MAMA!
(Isn't the human body freaking amazing?!)

I'm eager to meet this little blessing in my belly, ready to smooch her face and nibble on her toes until others around me start to feel uncomfortable by my level of adoration (mothers understand this limitless ability to gawk at their newborn).

I'm ready to not be stopped in my tracks with Braxton Hicks or require a million pillows and a pulley-system to simply roll over in my own bed.  I'm ready to see my toes again and enjoy a glass of wine with dinner.  I'm ready to have my anxieties shift from pregnant worries to external concerns about parenting another new life.  Bring it on!

It bewilders me to think that only 9 months ago I didn't know what this week held in store for me.  That I thought my plate was full then, and my emotional capacity was brimming with everything I knew about at that moment.

But, when a new body grows within your own body, you start to realize how absolutely beyond your control most things are.  While this pregnancy hasn't lacked pains or challenges, I had nothing to do with the cell-building, nerve-developing, bone-growing miracle that took place right under my heart (literally).

I've always been pretty darn good at worrying.  It doesn't keep me from doing much, but it doesn't mean the fear isn't present.  Worry is familiar territory for most mothers, and it's step-sisters Doubt and Anxiety are always nearby.  They love to team up and try to steal away joy and hope and confidence, and if I'm not prayerful about staying aware of their whereabouts I can easily find myself entertaining them.

Then, I look down.  I see this giant beach ball churning under my shirt and I'm instantly reminded how I did NOTHING to grow this human.  Hands. Feet. Heart. BRAIN. All neatly woven together while I waddled through my day, working on school and household chores, showering and cooking, driving and walking, wolfing down cheeseburgers like I was making up for the vegetarians of the world.  All but ignorant of the minute intricacies that were being constructed atom by atom as my new little person formed within.

That's how I grew this human in 9 easy months.  I worried while God worked.  I trusted while God constructed.  I hoped while God created.  I don't know who this person is in me.  I don't know what she looks like or how she will act or behave or who she will grow up to be.  But, I've loved her from before I knew she existed - something else I've had no control over.

I can't wait to have this baby and introduce her to the world.  I can't wait to announce her arrival with triumph and celebration.  It's a wonderful feeling to exchange my worries for wonder, and as my final pregnancy concludes this weekend, I'm grateful for the last 9 months of ups and downs to carry this baby into the world that awaits her.

Breastfeeding: part 1

Breastfeeding.  Yup.  We're going there.  So, if you're male and cringing already - you are free to leave at any time.  If you are female and wincing at the idea of learning TMI about me - feel free to click away.  But, if you have ever, will ever, or might know someone who has ever breastfed...I invite you to stick around today and tomorrow as I openly explore the topic near and dear (literally) to my heart.

Before the birth of my first daughter, Matilda, a few years ago, I remember being enormously pregnant and reading up on the "womanly art of breastfeeding" as it's so endearingly referred to.  I read and read and even took a private lactation class to try and absorb as much info as I could before actually jumping into the act myself.  I had studied so long and hard about labor and birth that it wasn't until the last few weeks of my pregnancy that I started to realize I was about to encounter a whole new world that would disrupt my life and my body:  breastfeeding.

I'll tell you right up front that, while this post is certainly "pro-breast" I'm going to go ahead and already assume you are "for breastfeeding".  There's just about a bazillion reasons (most of which you probably know already) for breastfeeding babies, and certainly there are valid and legitimate reasons that mothers can't or choose not too.  But, there's no denying that in an ideal setting for a typical baby and a healthy mother, breastfeeding is best - and so, we'll leave it at that.

That being said, I had always assumed I would breastfeed.  It seemed cheap and logical and convenient, above all the other health reasons that just seemed to make sense.  But, I had NO IDEA how to do it.  It's not exactly something one can practice beforehand (and trust me, it's already awkward enough to football hold a doll and pretend-put-it-up-to your boob) and so it remained an enormous mystery to me right up until it actually happened.

I'll say this - it all just seemed so awkward.  When I tried to imagine it or conceptualize what it might be like, I couldn't imagine it being anything but awkward.  How could it not hurt?  How could it ever become "normal"?  How will the baby know what to do?  What does "let down" mean and will it hurt?  How will it affect my marriage?  How long should I do it?  How hard will it be?

Can you believe this was for real?

These questions and more plagued my over-information-burdened mind in the days leading up to my daughter's birth.  It was a giant enigma that I kept chalking up to:  Well, I don't know.  But, I'll just do it.  I will.  That's that.  And really, that was that.

And then I had a baby.  I held my baby for the first time.  I saw her and I wept with what could only be described as indescribable joy.  My heart suddenly caved in and my breath was stopped short by the sheer awe and wonder of how part of me could be existing on the outside of my body, and suddenly I felt and overwhelming urge to unite myself back to this creature whom I had held inside for so long.  I physiologically needed to nourish her, comfort her, provide for her...and my body impulsively longed to do so.  She latched on, right there in the recovery room (after a 20 hour labor and sudden c-section) and suddenly there I was, breastfeeding my infant as if I had always known how.

The following weeks were less magical.  I was, however,  blessed with a record-breaking milk supply and a chunky baby who required much attention.  I am eternally grateful for the gift of an easily-nursed baby. I know that many mothers out there have had brutal experiences coping with latching technique and sore nipples and milk that took weeks to come in...but, I was one of the lucky ones  (feel free to punch me in the face now if you weren't...I'm so sorry).  However, no matter how "easy" it was...it was NOT easy.

Babies are demanding.  Babies are needy.  Babies are also irrational and uncommunicative apart from wailing and screaming.  Meanwhile, as I was trying to get used to my recovering-from-birth body, and waiting on my milk supply to regulate, my breasts seemed to take on a life of their own - being called upon every couple hours for who-knows-how-long and all in private sessions that kept me away from all other people or priorities.  Sometimes this was glorious.  I loved to stare into my baby's eyes and see her so happily nurse and feel comfort and love and nourishment all at the same time.  Sometimes, however, this was burdensome.  I would hear my husband and friends laughing in the living room as the movie continued on without me so I could nurse the baby back to sleep...I would let dinner burn on the stove as I forgot to turn down the heat as I held my child...I would drift off in the middle of the night as my exhaustion got the better of me.  And still, I did my best to remain grateful for the experience, even in the loneliest of moments.

Rarely do mothers talk about the lonely side of breastfeeding.  Rarely do you hear advice to new mothers about how it will be challenging and sad at times (though, yes, oh-so-worthwhile).  It's hard to feel like you are missing out because your baby needs you - and THAT'S OKAY to admit...but, it's also an enormous step towards the selflessness that parenthood demands you engage in - and that's a remarkably beautiful gift that I could never have anticipated.  Breastfeeding helped teach me that.

Above all, no one ever told me how many times I might find myself perched in the back seat of my car with a blanket clumsily laid across my shoulder as I urgently nurse my child and haphazardly spray breastmilk across the floorboard...because, when baby's hungry, everything else waits.  Friends wait, dinners wait, movies wait, shopping waits...and so do you.  And waiting is hard.  And while I waited I couldn't help but ask myself again and again "Is THIS what mothers DO?  Is this what moms have been doing all along and never said - this is what I do - I sit in the back of my car and try not to spray milk all over my backseat windows before spending too much money at Target a mere fifteen minutes later.  Wow."  True story.

While I didn't experience the hardship of latching or milk production, I did experience challenge in another area of breastfeeding:  work.  With Matilda, I went back to work three months after her birth.  This came with a host of emotional challenges, but very near the top of the list was my new responsibility in becoming an expert breast-pumper...something I'd never considered being excellent at. It was a scary contraption that looked like something out of a Men In Black movie, and I was pretty sure that I would be the first woman in history to somehow make the evening news headlines due to some battle I would encounter with this particular device.  Nevertheless, it was me against the breastpump and I rose to the challenge.

How long will it take to pump?  How often do I need to?  Where do I go?  Will people notice?  Again, a new string of questions rattled my brain with fears as I walked back into my cubicle.  I worked almost exclusively with men on a daily basis, and so it felt like a foreign land where no one would sympathize with my amount of baggage I had to travel with.  But, after a few awkward conversations and a few days of carrying an extra sweater around in my purse "just in case" my breasts exploded at my desk...I began to get into a rhythm that accomplished what my baby and I both needed.

A few weeks into this new routine, and I had become a super-spy on a mission for milk.  With only 30 minutes for lunch, I had gotten the womanly art down to a science, and felt like a CIA agent - sneaking into the code-locked "nursing closet", quickly changing out of my attire and hooking up my pump, acquiring the assets, slipping back into my garments, and back out on the street in a flash as if nothing had ever occurred.  My sleek, black, messenger bag pump left no one the wiser to my whereabouts, and that's pretty much how I liked it.

A full year of this routine took place.  My dedication to breastfeeding impressed even myself, and I still look back on that time as one of privilege more than sacrifice.  Besides, it gave me some of the quietest moment of my entire life...just me, my peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich, and the lulling whir of my breast pump...how can I not be grateful for that kind of simplistic moment?  But, it wasn't easy.  So - for all those mothers making it work at work...kudos, bravo, and keep it up!  Do your best to savor those quiet moments, they surely don't last forever.

And neither did breastfeeding.  That first year of Matilda flew by in a flash, even with each glorious and burdensome feeding.  My breastfeeding Matilda came to a sudden halt (for a variety of reasons) when I became pregnant with my second daughter.  And new questions arose as I approached a new phase of life (literally) as I instantly grieved the loss of breastfeeding while excitedly anticipated the coming of a new baby.

Come back tomorrow to find out what challenges breastfeeding brought the second time around...and how I dealt with saying goodbye to this wonderful phase of motherhood...

READERS:  Share your breastfeeding stories!  What has your experience been?  How did you feel supported in your journey in breastfeeding?

Boom.

We're all flying by the seat of our pants here

I have several friends right now expecting children.  Some are pregnant and some are in the process of adoption.  Either way, new parents are new parents - giddy with anticipation, anxious with worry, and all in all completely idealistic in the giant "unknown" that's in store for them.

Ah, I remember those days.  I remember my perception of what parenthood would be like.  Having years of nannying experience and being an aunt to 7 nephews and nieces before having my own, I thought I was about as seasoned as they come when it came to knowing what raising a child would be like.  I was ripe with earnest enthusiasm when it came to predicting the schedule shift, lack of sleep, and complete interruption my new bundle of joy was about to bestow upon my nest.

And then, I actually became a parent, and my dreamy bubble burst like a poorly fastened diaper on a full belly.  Kapow!  And I found myself shrugging my shoulders in disbelief and exhaustion that I, too, had fallen victim to the notion that I thought I knew what I was doing.  I didn't.  I don't.

Now, only a few years of parenting under my belt, I find myself in the seat of the bestower of said-advice instead of the bestowee.  (I know that's not a real word.)  But, it's true.  With so many friends becoming first-time parents after myself, they tend to turn to me as one source of information they can rely on for "telling them like it is" and so forth.  And, I love it.  I mean, I love everything that has to do with pregnancy and birth and raising kids, I could talk about it for-just-about-ever and still find new things to question or examine.  It's kind of one of those inexhaustible topics that is ever-changing and so, it's easy to keep re-examining how it all works!

While I love to talk about it though, I laugh at the idea that I might necessarily have a clue what I'm talking about!  Indeed, one of the first bubbles to burst in parenthood is the fact that we're all kind of flying by the seat of our pants when it comes to raising a kid.  Nevertheless, as the questions come, I can't help but give my take on whatever-child-rearing-subject arises and do my best to leave them feeling excited and validated.  However, I rarely predict that's the case.

Current parents can't help but sound condescending to a parent-to-be.

I remember this well.  I hated it when I was expecting.  I mean, there's only so many times you can hear "go see more movies now" or "get sleep while you can" or "you have no idea how hard it is" or "you know you'll have to watch her all the time" before you just want to punch someone in the face!  I completely remember feeling like I wanted to wear a sign saying "I'm pregnant, not stupid" just so people would shut-up already and stop trying to tell me how much I didn't know.

She can totally tell I have no clue what I'm doing

And yet, here I am...the giant condescender of information, belittling my expectant friends with my bubble-bursting anecdotes of truth (out of love!)  Yikes.  How can this be helped?  Have I earned this right or should I shut up and let them enjoy the idea of never letting their kid watch TV and always having the laundry folded and put away neatly?

Just the other day, one of these expectant mothers texted me saying, "I don't want my child to eat anything that's not truly organic."  My response?  That's cool.  Just don't feel bad when you eventually lose it and find yourself throwing chicken McNuggets at her.  It will happen.  You will both survive.

Becoming a parent isn't about becoming perfect.  It can't be.  It won't be.  We each have our bubbles and our unique process that bursts them somehow in someway along the journey of growing into the individual our new child shapes us up to be.  That involves growing pains on both our parts, parent and child.

Don't get me wrong - ideals are WONDERFUL.  Establish them, strive for them, even cling to them for inspiration!  But, don't be controlled by them.  The biggest piece of advice I can give to parents-to-be now is this:

When you disappoint yourself (because you will), don't buy into the lie that you're not what your child needs.  Chances are, you have just crossed a new boundary stepping into the person you are supposed to become.

If that takes a few chicken McNuggets to get there...I'm cool with that. This isn't to say that your mistakes are "good".  (Probably far from it.)  But, when I allow myself the freedom to let go of the control, let go of what I consider the perfect picture of parenthood to look like, then I'm one step away from retreating to what I really need:  Jesus.  If I'm being really honest with myself, that's all I really want to model for my children...not someone who has it all together and is always right and always looks great (especially since that is impossible), but someone who turns to Jesus when I get reminded again and again that I'm not.

And for all those loving parents who tried to warn me ahead of time, let me say Thanks for trying.  I may not have received everything that you said at the time, but I certainly heard it.  The fog has lifted and I can clearly see now that I have no idea how to do this parenting thing.  Ha!  The great news is...we're not in it alone.

Welcome aboard, new parents.  Get ready to burst that bubble.

Three

Happy Halloween!  I wish you all a treat-filled day of fun and autumnal festivities!

Halloween will forevermore be known in my mind as the anniversary-of-the-day-I-first-went-into-labor.  Here we are, three full years later, and I can still picture that entire day with pristine clarity.  I suppose you never forget the day that, for the first time in your life, you reach maximum capacity in your pregnancy.  (It probably also added to the drama to have my water break in the middle of watching Dracula!  That is definitely something you never forget!)

My firstborn daughter, Matilda, will turn 3 tomorrow on November 1st.  I just can't believe it.  THREE.  Actual kid-dom.  For real little-girl-ness.  Absolute, walking, adorable energy balled up into one little being who has as much spunk as she does splendor, as much curiosity as she does cuteness, and as much fervor as she does favor.  I love her to pieces, and can hardly remember life before her existence.

There is something about the firstborn child that just makes my heart sing and cry out for her.  On one hand, I think that I will extend to her opportunities that my second-born (and not-yet-conceived-subsequent-children-of-the-future) may miss out on.  I think I will experiment the most in my parenting methods with her.  I think that I will challenge her more than the others, seeing how far she will push the boundaries or how far my limitations will be tested.  It's hard to tell.

On the other hand, I really feel for her.  She is the "pioneer" of our children.  The first to have us as parents.  The first to be wholly under our supervision and influence, and I gotta say - that can't be easy! Sometimes I wonder if she already realizes she is the guinea pig or not.  Sometimes I worry whether she can tell we are just winging it as we go or if she knows how much I tweet about her strong will!

Matilda is stubborn, willful, and delightfully spirited.  She knows what she likes (or as she says "I yike dat!") and will throw a dramatic fit just to clarify when she detests something.  She plays hard and loves even harder.  She will strangle perfect strangers in bear hugs if they smile at her and gleefully wave at passersby just to make her enthusiasm towards life that much more contagious.

What I have come to know (and gradually, daily, strive to fall in love with) is that toddlers are irrational, honest, unashamedly-answer-seeking individuals who just want to be in charge.  Picture an angry lunatic running a big corporation and then yelling at his employees to tell him what's going on, and you'll have some clue as to the confusing day-in-the-life that it is to be a toddler.  Their world just makes no sense to them, but they know there are answers out there to be had.  Not having the answers, however, doesn't limit them from exacerbating themselves by throwing unwarranted demands around like they are stuffed animals (and sometimes, they are stuffed animals).

I have a feeling that 3 is going to be an amazing age for Matilda.  I sense great rises in things like intellect and vocabulary (yikes) and hefty depths of character sinking into her mind and soul.  Already she talks about angels, God, Jesus, and asks questions about feelings and how others are doing (like, really doing - like, empathizing better than many parents I've met).  Its kind of like living with a resident-psychologist, someone always making you question your ideals or motives (why? why?) but still withholding judgment.

As we approach the threshold of her birthday, it got me thinking about who this little warrior will be when she grows up.  What do I want for her?  Who do I hope her to be?  How will I relate to her?  What if she turns out differently than I hope?  Certainly, she will turn out differently than I hope...not necessarily better or worse, but she will be her own self, and how do I parent something so....so...so, unknown?

But, this led me to two thoughts:

1.  There is no more unknown today than there was yesterday than there will be tomorrow.
There is always the same amount of unknown about our future, it's just that we usually get to comfortably live under the illusion and within the security of our predictions coming true.
Matthew 6:34  Therefore, do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself.  Each day has enough trouble of its own. (NIV)

2.  I need to model my life according to who I hope my child grows up to be.
I all too often find myself taking the easy road when it comes to living up to the standards I idealize.  But, when I picture walking into my life as if it were my child's - am I disappointed?  am I proud?  would I try to fix her?  would I encourage her?   If I picture my current life as my child's future, how would I live differently?  I find this much more motivating than simply longing for something better or settling for disappointing myself.

I hope so much for my Matilda.  I fervently pray that God will take the passion in this crazy/sweet child and turn it into a Christ-centered calling that only this spit-fired, pistol-blazing, mighty, little whipper-snapper could fulfill.  I'm so grateful to belong in the journey of her story.

Have a happy birthday, Matilda.  You inspire me.

The Unicorn Effect

2009, pregnant with Matilda

Let's just clarify something right off the bat so there is no confusion about this post:
I'm NOT pregnant.

Okay.  Just had to get that out of the way before people start texting me and posting confusing/excited comments and before I know it my mother is shopping the newborn clearance section at Target before I can tell her there has been some massive misunderstanding.  No, I'm not with child.  I have two daughters only 20 months apart, and that is plenty for my pocketbook, my sanity, and my blood pressure.  For now, anyway.

But, there are plenty of friends around that are walking-wonders-with -bundles-of-joy and ever so occasionally I will glance at their expanding bellies and get a slight dose of awe sinking down into my gut.  It's not exactly the "baby fever" I once experienced prior to having children (you know, that all-consuming, gotta-get-pregnant, totally frenzied, inner overachiever in us that sparks up at the sight of chubby cheeks and little toes...that feeling of something missing in your life that you never even knew you wanted so badly until you couldn't control whether you got it or not...that glorious phase of wanting a little, mini-combo person of you and your spouse who would bring endless hours of joy and entertainment).  No, no...I'm afraid "baby fever" is only really a one-time disease, because once you know what motherhood is truly like, you know better than to symptomize something so insane into such perfect ideals.  I mean, the "baby fever" phase was fun...just like falling in love with my husband was fun before we got married...but, it's just not something you can emotionally or physiologically sustain for an extended amount of time!  Whew.

Awe and wonder

I'm just talking about getting that little inner glimpse into feeling a glimmer of the memory of being pregnant.  I'll just say it - sometimes I miss being pregnant when I see my beautifully, glowing, waddling friends who are growing live humans in their bodies.  I don't look at them and remember the back pain, the nausea, or the sanity-shattering-irritability that drove me nuts for 9+ months.  No, I look at them and think about how my crazy, loud-mouthed, whine-machine children were once part of me, silently and perfectly developing from cells into actual, living, thinking, moving persons.  I remember the wonder, not the work.  And I remember how people would stop and stare and notice me for simply being a vessel of that wonder.

And that's when it struck me - do I actually miss being pregnant?

Or, do I kind of, maybe, sometimes just actually miss being that wonder-carrying-miracle-vessel that people noticed???

As a dear (and currently with-child) friend of mine put it, "When you're pregnant, people stop and stare like you are a magical unicorn".  Bingo.  Not only that, but she and I agreed that people actually go out of their way for you!  You score free stuff, move up spots in line, doors get opened for you, and strangers tilt their heads in sympathy and awe of how lovely you are...all because they, too, remember the wonder and spectacular specialness of it all.

Yes, maybe that's what I miss!?

2011, pregnant with Daphne

It might sound superficial or silly or even selfish...but, the truth is, when that baby pops out of you, you no longer can play the I-am-sorry-I-can't-do-such-n-such-because-I'm-so-pregnant card.  And the but-I-just-had-a-baby card expires shortly after.  Months and months of people caring for you, asking how you are feeling, reaching out to meet your needs and accommodating your every comfort...and then, BAM, done.  You immediately fall back into the shuffle of normal people, regular Joes, and total suckers, having to fend for yourself again.  You've gone from magical unicorn to boring stable mare all in one night.  Shucks, that stinks.

Of course you are so glad to get that baby out of you.  As pleasant and wonderful as pregnancy is, I can still recall the final weeks of utter discomfort taking their toll on my body and life.  Definitely, by the end of the pregnancy the last thing I wanted was to remain that way forever.  But, there is something confusing and shocking about losing that unicorn effect.  Suddenly, you've returned to your normal skin (albeit, forever changed in your heart and soul by parenthood) and people don't look at you as if something surreal and supernatural just happened to you.  But, IT DID!

There are all kinds of novelty shirts out there for pregnant women.  You've seen them/worn them/given them as gifts.  We laugh at how adorable they are with "Baby on Board" and "Here's my Bump" with arrows and hearts and smiley faces branding the bellies.  Those shirts always draw attention and questions and smiles from anyone who takes time to notice them.  But, there's no t-shirts for the new mother!  There's no "High Five Me Because I Just Had A Baby" shirt.  I've never seen a "Wonder Woman = Mother" tank, or a "Not Pregnant, Just Awesome" polo.  Nope.

Hmm.  Maybe us moms could start a new business here?  Just kidding.

This is not to say we shouldn't revel in the wonder that is the pregnant-woman.  On the contrary!  Let's continue the encouraging glances of awe!  Just don't let them stop when the baby is out.  The next time you see a new mom, especially one with a tiny, fresh baby who is possibly unknowingly-sad that doors are no longer being opened for her...open the door for her.  Compliment her.  High five that lady and marvel at her for a second.

I'm not ready to be pregnant again just yet.  I mean, as much as I have a say in these things, I'm fine with waiting and enjoying the two crazilicious girlies that I've got.  Still, I do look forward to being pregnant again someday and walking around like a magical unicorn, partaking in the privileges that only a short-lived sliver of time offers us.  But, I hope, until that time comes again, I can bestow a little bit of wonder-ful-ness to us normal, non-pregnant, types.  We might not be as blatantly, obviously, miraculous as our child-carrying friends...but, we are all carrying rainbows in our pockets.  Memories of miracles, countenance of courage, stomachs of strength, and guts deep down in us that can recall in an instant how we were once growing actual human beings in our very own bodies.

You just don't turn that kind of wonder off when the baby leaves.

High five, mamas.  You remain wonder-ful.

29 Again

Today is my birthday!

Weirdness.  Does anyone after the age of 6 ever actually feel like the day of their birthday is the day of their birthday?  Nevertheless, the day has arrived, and I've been teaching my toddler for weeks now how to say "Mommy is 29 again!"

sad birthday kitty meme

I should be really good at 29 by now, after all, it's my fourth time.  What can I say?  As much as I would really love to embrace the whole "you get better with age" thing - I've sort of come to the conclusion that I just don't like getting older.  There you have it.

It's not that I don't like where I am.  It's not that I'm unhappy or think I should be doing anything other that what I'm doing.  No, no, it's just that time keeps passing more quickly than I am prepared for it to pass...and there is not one thing I can do about it (despite what those Loreal commercials tell me).

I suppose I didn't really mind turning 30.  It was strange to leave my twenties, but motherhood was a new and exciting adventure, and so I took it all in stride as the decade turned.  But, now that I am really starting to dig into this new decade, well, I'm very nearly on the verge of denying it all together.

It wasn't until a few weeks ago that I was reading a magazine article about which "eye cream" was best at wrinkle prevention that I realized they were talking to me about how to reverse the signs of aging.  WHAT?  But, there it was spelled out for all to see, how "women in their thirties" should start blah blah blah blah.  Oh man, that was ME!  When did that happen?  When did I jump into the category of consumers that needed to start making sure retinol and vitamin C were in their moisturizing routine???

Ugh.

One last rant... My husband is still a twenty-something.  Yup.  I robbed the cradle when I married him, and now I'm paying the price.  Call me silly.  Call me a cougar (ha).  But, now I'm doing my darndest to not throw my birthday cake in his face.  When I turned thirty it didn't seem like a big deal, it seemed like he was right behind me.  But, turns out this whole "time" thing continues on a linear path and there will never be a day that he catches up and surpasses me, and here I am turning 32 while he is leisurely hanging back at a cool 29.  Bah, humbug.

Okay, okay.  Enough of that.  Enough complaining and scoffing and pity-partying.  I know, I know, it is NOT very mature, nor becoming of me.  Sigh.

Today is my birthday.  Another year of survival, triumph, tears, love, laughter, hardship, prayers, patience, pain and joy.  It's remarkable how the days seem to drag on and then all of a sudden a year has spun out of control again.

Today is my birthday.  I feel older than I have in a while, I feel more accomplished that I thought I would have felt as a stay-at-home-mom, I feel wiser and dumbfounded all the same.  I don't think I've ever been more in control of what is out-of-my-control in my whole life.  That is, as a gal in my thirties, I just now start to have a sense of balancing the peace amidst the chaos, letting the knowledge and experience that I have seep deeper into my heart that the feelings or emotions that I have.  I'm not just full of a series of reactions anymore, like I was in my twenties.  I'm not just a walking ball of drama that never quits (regardless of popular opinion).  I stop and think before I speak a lot more often than I used to.  I not only know I'm not the center of the world, but I'm starting to act like it too.

Today is my birthday, and here's what I have to say about it:  I like myself.

It might seem arrogant or taboo or downright haughty to say such a thing, and it all honesty, it only makes me a little bit sad if you think that way.  Because, as I'm raising two daughters who are silly and awesome, it really makes me realize how important it is that they value who they are.  I'm not saying it's good to focus on yourself or be full of yourself or even put yourself first...but, it makes me sad to think about my girls possibly not liking themselves someday, and that lesson really starts right here, with me, right now.

Insecurities flood us from every direction these days.  Each day, each month, each year we wake up to new fears and new circumstances that await us with new problems.  None of us could ever possibly be skinny enough, lucky enough, rich enough, happy enough with everything that the world throws our way.  It's futile.

I've got a long way to go in this life.  I mean, I pray this is still only one of many, many birthdays to come.  I can't imagine what the future holds, nor do I want to!  That's part of the adventure!

I don't like the passage of time - I'm still working on just how to grasp the beauty of the moment (easier said than done when a toddler is throwing Cheetos at your face) and I still have to get used to my new night cream (I can still pass for 21, right?) but, I'm not ashamed of getting to know who I am anymore.  I'm not avoiding the subject.  I'm not intimidated by what I may or may not become.

Jesus was only 33 when He was crucified for mankind.  T-H-I-R-T-Y-T-H-R-E-E.  Whoa.  My whole life I've thought of Jesus as this wise old owl who was so much older than me that I at least could use that as an excuse for misbehaving.  And, here I am.  What if this was my final year?  What if?

Thanks for still pursuing me, God.  Thank you for creating me and being just as interested in me as you were that very first day I came into the world.

Birthdays are weird.  They celebrate us for something we had nothing to do with.  I had no choice that my parents made me, kept me, raised me; and yet, I get a day all to myself to be recognized for just being.  

Jesus looks at us as if every day is our birthday.  (Go with me on this.)  He died for us, pursues us, loves us, took on all our sin (past, present, future) whether we wanted Him to or not...and there's nothing we can do about it.  Nothing.  It's done.

We can't earn it, we can't work for it, we can't change it, and we certainly don't deserve it.  But, every day - Jesus looks upon us as if we are clean and beautiful and worthy of having saved.  Jesus never wishes He hadn't gone through all that pain for us.  Jesus never regrets the sacrifice He made for us.  He lavishes us with love and mercy as if the day was made just for us.  All we have to do is believe it, accept it, and rejoice in the privilege of sharing it with others.

Now, that's a thought worth celebrating!

Alright, alright, I feel better already.  Maybe it's the cake or the presents or maybe that new moisturizer had magical healing powers (naaah)...but, I'm getting the sense that this year is going to hold so much more than just 365 days.  Maybe next year I'll even turn 30 (again)!

Cheers.  Jesus loves you.  You should love you too.

pardymama: The Clip Show

Hello world!  And welcome to the new PARDYMAMA!  As you might notice, I've had things spruced up a bit around here.  Hooray - the new design is rocking my face off and I hope you are loving it too.  Redbud Designs is to thank, and I'm so stoked to show off the new pardymama site as it inspires me to keep posting more and more.  So - what do you think?

I figured if there were ever a time to re-introduce myself - maybe this is it.  In other words, this is the clip show of blog posts.  So, some of you who are closest to me might find yourselves bored to death reading this post (yes, yes, two girls, a husband, needs coffee, yadda yadda yadda) but I hope that it can help others who stumble upon the site (or who have had my favorite friends [hug] pass it on to them) to sit a spell and look forward to checking in again and again.  Who knows.  All I know is that God is keeping me writing.  God is keeping the content coming and the coffee flowing, and so, I will continue to pour out whatever content that is supposed to be out here in the world instead of just stewing and rotting in my brain (there's always plenty left for that anyway).  So - what's pardymama all about?  Here we go...

Motherhood.
I sort of initially started to blog in 2010, not long after the birth of my first daughter, Matilda.  If you're as bad at math as I am (it's okay, I think there should be a support group out there for those of us who still use our fingers to count for everything from dollars to calories to how many children we have on a daily basis) that makes her just over 2 and a half (this "half" is very important in the toddler world).

I didn't think anyone would actually ever read what I wrote.  I don't mean that in a pathetic, self-pity sort of way.  I mean it in a "I am not going to be one of those mom bloggers who puts everything out there and writes stuff like her baby's birth story and breastfeeding at the office" sort of way.  Ha.  But then when I became pregnant with our second daughter, the inspiration was too fascinating to ignore.  I had real, life-altering events happening to me on a nearly daily basis, and I needed an outlet to survive.  So, I just sort of kept writing about them.

And, turns out, there are other moms in the universe besides me (really?) who aren't sleeping (huh?) and don't have much more than a cup of coffee and a prayer to keep them going through the day (who knew?) and sort of actually like to hear about how my girls are driving me so insanely crazy that I constantly walk the boundary line between frantic frustration and utter in-love-ness with them each and every day (you too?) and how motherhood is teaching me more about life and love and God than I ever thought possible even though there are times when I want to just huddle in a corner, plug my ears, and sing the Friends theme-song so loud that it drowns out the noise of any needs I might not be able to meet.  And I wake up the next day.  And I do it all again.  And so do you...and we are all crazy together.  

Marriage.
I love being married.  A lot of people might say "I love my husband" and I do, but I also just love the idea/entity/purpose of marriage itself.  To choose every day to put another person before yourself, to stick with them, to stand beside them and hold them through the most beautiful and horrendous moments in your life and to share them as one united perspective...well, it blows my mind.  God's design of marriage is nothing short of a miracle, and the fact that we choose to be around each other after seeing each other puke or having two crazy babies or not sleeping for weeks on end or asking him a million times to take out the trash or forgetting over and over to pack him a lunch (well, you can see that we have plenty of practice left before we conquer the art of marriage) it's pretty much just amazing.  But, it's not a flourishing garden if left unattended.

Having lived through a wicked divorce in my early twenties, I've learned the depth of God's grace and redemption and exactly what it means to lay down yourself and take on the humility and love that Christ offers for us all.  I know what loneliness feels like.  I've tasted bitterness and hate.  I've felt the lies of insecurity and shame.  I know how slowly time passes when your soul is healing and everyone identifies "who you are" with "what you've been through".   And I've lived to tell about it.  And I've survived to rejoice in the new day.  And I'm here to celebrate marriage and be honest about what it can take to make it good and lasting (Jesus Jesus Jesus).

And my husband and I are silly and intentional and have ridiculous rules of fun that I want to share with the universe out there - you know, the universe with that ugly statistic half of us are now part of.  That universe that keeps us unsatisfied and looking for more.  And, instead, I'm determined to create and live in a place that God intended for us...an environment that can nurture selflessness and togetherness and keep our love humming and drumming for years and years and many date nights to come...through thick and thin, puke and craziness, kids and pets and all of it.

Mayhem.
If there is one thing the Pardys are known for, it's going to be this:  mayhem.  Just walk by our apartment and you will most likely hear someone screaming, be it out of elation, naughtiness, genius, joy, anger, or hunger...we are a spirited bunch.  I am adamant about desiring to live a transparent life.  I think Satan motivates pride and discontent under the guise of shame and insecurity...and so, I highly value the art of spewing my guts out for all to see.  Pretty, right?  Maybe not.

But, I don't pull any punches when it comes to how God is working in my life or how honest it may get around here.  I'll tell you one thing, I'm not into shock value.  I'm into honesty.  Certainly I will tell grand tales that are exaggerated in the storytelling of them...but, the emotions and lessons behind them all will be sincere and genuine, I promise.

I want non-parents to know what this life of parenthood is like before they might enter into it.  I want other husbands and wives to feel validated and encouraged when they are questioning how to keep loving their spouse.  I want moms to feel hugged on with every word of mischief I write about my girls.  I want the world to be so full of these stories of hope and honesty and conversations (i.e. this is where you come in) about how marriages and parenthood keeps getting better and better that we drown out the complaining and lies and reality shows and billboards that are frighteningly threatening what our hearts truly desire.  But, it's not a journey we take alone, or silently, or without a few messes along the way.

Looks like this blog is here to stay and I hope you are too!  I'm excited to see where pardymama is headed, what stories are to come, how the tales will roll out, and what God may or may not show us all through this weird world of internet that connects us together in a little hub of chaos.

I love questions, I love comments, I love hearing from each and every one of you who stumble upon this little blog.  I love your stories, I love your honesty, I love it when you share how God is working in your own little world.  I love being a mother, being married, and the mayhem that each new day brings my way.  I also love those little toothpicks with the tiny cellophane frills on top.  (See, I'm random like that.)

I hope that this little ole blog can be a giant hug for you every time you visit (Pardys are huggers, not hand shakers, btw) and that you keep checking in for a good dose of reality on a regular basis.  Cause, Lord only knows, there plenty more crazy left to be written.