tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-84207642632584859902024-02-21T00:44:13.053-08:00content with where i am& getting where i need to be. moving past the past where i have failed.renabeenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02586709240686639995noreply@blogger.comBlogger112125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8420764263258485990.post-23509924772332699892017-06-01T22:26:00.001-07:002017-06-01T22:28:39.544-07:00navy claire charlotte's debut on earthWe did it! We made another human. It truly never gets old and the miracle of life is just as unreal and mysterious as ever.<br />
<br />
We have another wonderful story to tell about Navy's birth which was very different in many ways than Caspers and just as sweet and special - like all birth stories (ok, I know, I know, I'm obsessed!)<br />
Finally got some time to sit down and pen out all the fine details of this day. I know most details are uninteresting but I like to keep them logged for my own memory bank. So sorry if they are boring!<br />
<br />
<i>Wednesday, May 17: </i><br />
I was 40 weeks and 3 days, and at my midwife appointment that day, I asked Steph if she could preform a stretch and sweep on me to get things going. I think it was the catalyst my body needed to get labor started!<br />
I left the appointment feeling the residual cramping but also super hopeful that the baby may actually make her debut soon -- I just had a gut feeling.<br />
<br />
//<br />
<br />
<i>Thursday, May 18th, </i><i>5:30pm:</i><br />
I was making dinner in the kitchen when I felt a small gush and then the trickle of liquid run down my leg. I was skeptical if it even was amniotic fluid because it was such a small amount and we're still not sure if it was actually.<br />
Lucas was suppose to go to a movie in a few hours and I told him he should stay home in case I was going to go into labor, and I called my mom and asked her to stay the night in case we had to make a swift trip to the hospital... <i>just</i> in case.<br />
<br />
<i>7pm: </i><br />
Of course it didn't happen like that at all. My mom and Lucas and I stayed up until about 10pm playing scrabble (for tradition's sake) and I was actually starting to feel some tightenings that were bothering me. This was my excuse for losing terribly at scrabble anyways so I'm going with it.<br />
<br />
<i>10pm:</i><br />
When Lucas and I went to bed, I was finding it hard to sleep. I was experiencing some labor contractions every so often. The time in between them was sometimes 15-20 minutes and sometimes 5 minutes so it was so hard to know where I was in my progression. I sort of slept - not great - for about 90 minutes.<br />
<br />
//<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLI7sBilq3mdUocWMLqWcuXGuUuvlumbJjKZMuNux0AG3OCnm_VUTVE90D93HSkum7zvJwwrR8smLYCMJiOS3XsTinPE127YSh4alBcPKlWfNQOxqbPa-Td61v5GppVeysudG803-tyHQx/s1600/Navy-27.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLI7sBilq3mdUocWMLqWcuXGuUuvlumbJjKZMuNux0AG3OCnm_VUTVE90D93HSkum7zvJwwrR8smLYCMJiOS3XsTinPE127YSh4alBcPKlWfNQOxqbPa-Td61v5GppVeysudG803-tyHQx/s400/Navy-27.jpg" width="400" /></a><br />
<i>Friday, May 19th, 2am:</i><br />
By now, I was <i>pretty</i> sure I was 5cm dilated and ready to head to the hospital as the contractions were picking up speed. I called the Midwife and Cora was on call that night (I was so excited I got the same midwife for both my babys births!) and she was there in 15 minutes. She examined my cervix and I was only 1.5cm dilated. Womp womp. I was honestly more embarrassed than anything and felt so bad for waking her up. She encouraged me to relax, have a bath, and try to labor at home for a little while longer and reminded me the signs to watch for that would demonstrate I was in <i>active labor</i>. For the next few hours I tried laboring without any help but was feeling kind of weak so I had Lucas call Marie, my Doula, so she could help with some of the pain management.<br />
<br />
<i>4am: </i><br />
Marie arrived! She hooked a TENS onto my back and she massaged me on the couch. My mom slept in our bed while Lucas tried sleeping next to me. I feel bad because that would have been near impossible with the sounds I was making every time I had a contraction but of course he was a great sport about it. My labor sounds were different with this labor than my last - last time they were kind of like a moo or a bellow and this time they were actually like a growl! Marie was tracking my contraction time and lengths so that we could be more confident with the next call we made.<br />
<br />
<i>7am: </i><br />
Casper was awake and my mom was too. So strange to labor with a small toddler hanging out. He was basically unphased by my antics except that he was mimicing my breathing and he could kind of tell something was weird. It actually gave me so much comfort when he would make funny comments or ask me for something <i>right</i> in the middle of a contraction. And unlike the last time she saw me labor, my mom got kind of choked up.<br />
We called Cora again. Marie talked to her and let her know how frequent the contractions were at this point and about how long they were lasting. Cora said she would come over. I prayed it wouldn't be in vain.<br />
<br />
<i>8am: </i><br />
Cora arrived and, yay, I was 4cm! We decided to just head to the hospital as I wanted to make sure I didn't miss my window for the epidural and also because I just<i> had </i>to get my hands on the glorious laughing gas. Our drive to the hospital sucked because it was high traffic so I think I had to endure about 6 contractions on the drive which doesn't seem like a lot but it sure felt like it was!<br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Friday morning: </i><br />
We got to our room and met the nurse, Helen, and well let me tell you, she had lots of opinions about the epidural and tried talking me out of it. A lot. At one point I had to tell her off basically and then she stopped badgering me. I hung out around the bed on the birthing ball just sucking back the laughing gas every time I had a contraction. It truly is magical how much better it made me feel but all that relaxing caused my labor to totally slow down! So Lucas and I decided to pick up the pace by taking walks around the birthing ward and up and down the stairs. People kept asking us if we were lost.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzns899nB-Df6EwwxzVJm9cjpxt2IPVBs8RDTc2tOAQHelTEF2naQydn3m2alsrgfXAt9S4lyUztzBvxkammASVxqnDT2_KlyUCBs4WDkJICOi4ms4oi7jwMIQLS52qllG3-6Xh3M3tyeq/s1600/Navy-10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzns899nB-Df6EwwxzVJm9cjpxt2IPVBs8RDTc2tOAQHelTEF2naQydn3m2alsrgfXAt9S4lyUztzBvxkammASVxqnDT2_KlyUCBs4WDkJICOi4ms4oi7jwMIQLS52qllG3-6Xh3M3tyeq/s400/Navy-10.jpg" width="400" /></a><i>Side note:</i> <i>Lucas enjoyed some of the laughing gas too this time and he was also a fan. </i><br />
<br />
We went back and forth between doing the walks to keep labor moving, but also stopping in our room so I could pee every 5 minute and inhale some laughing gas. Unlike the last birth, I never got in the tub once! I really didn't want labor to slow down so I opted to stay out where I could continue to move around. I asked Cora when I should get the epidural and she encouraged me to try and last until I was 7cm and I agreed that sounded like a good plan.<br />
<br />
I met our student nurse, Erin, who would be there to observe the birth. She was so kind and pretty and had great brows.<br />
I also met the anesthesiologist, Johnny, who was <i>so</i> dashing and handsome and had a soothing British accent (why are British accents so soothing?!). I thought Erin and Johnny would have made a great couple but I also saw that he had a wedding ring so probably wouldn't work out.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwDZshoSDKp6EUdgtt4Z6MTdij9lB7A7Dy1qGKSH3xJd0SD_JJZoN-TGCngSBzBItAhWgw2Wr8K7rTQeJy454ZYU2Urp_WMUXPmrk9ONnmgjgn7VSfbcImtgbuVBc-1uQizLSXMPAOxBOp/s1600/Navy-39.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwDZshoSDKp6EUdgtt4Z6MTdij9lB7A7Dy1qGKSH3xJd0SD_JJZoN-TGCngSBzBItAhWgw2Wr8K7rTQeJy454ZYU2Urp_WMUXPmrk9ONnmgjgn7VSfbcImtgbuVBc-1uQizLSXMPAOxBOp/s400/Navy-39.jpg" width="400" /></a>I also decided that morning to donate our cord blood so I signed some waivers to do that.<br />
<br />
<i>Noon: </i><br />
I asked Cora to examine my cervix as I was <i>sure</i> I was near 7cm if not more. She checked and said I was 6cm but definitely a good time to request the epidural. They went over all of the risks with getting an epidural and made me sign a release. I was so petrified I was going to be the very small rare chance of having permanent nerve damage. Everyone assured me they only mention it because they have to and the chances are so incredibly slim. When Johnny came, he made me wear a special gown that covers you in the front but exposes your ass and a blue bonnet on my head to hold all my hair. He had me sit on the bed with my back to him (duh) and Cora was in front of me probably to support me and ensure that I would not be moving around during the important needle. Johnny described to me everything before he did it which was so nice and reassuring. When he gave me the numbing needle, it felt exactly like the needle you get in your mouth when you get a filling. Gross! And then he inserted the big needle and it felt weird. Weird, and cold, and strange. That plus having a super intense contraction wasn't much fun. He waited until after my contraction ended which I was grateful for. But it still felt weird and I was still worried I was going to have permanent nerve damage (FYI, I did not).<br />
I lied down and let the epidural do it's thing. Johnny told me my contractions would slowly feel shorter and shorter and he was right! About 30 minutes later I hardly felt a thing yet I could still wiggle my toes.<br />
Lucas and I had a nap and I told him to call our birth photographer who said she was off work at 1:30pm and could come if we were still in labor after that. I knew we would be so I told him to tell her to come! I also told him to ask her to bring me an Egg McMuffin from McDonalds. Don't ask me why.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw8XlJDMoWLL2yy-YhUPDa_9Sao4BtV2FEvYDQtN0ndG96sUkJK4yirwSS50vBYjPqBGdqBsY4OIKP0m7eeAMaPSUOp7Bg-mLEi3Pv7qIt5hFHF2oXL3sj6mDLVIoYUKc4HxxlZd531boH/s1600/Navy-17.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw8XlJDMoWLL2yy-YhUPDa_9Sao4BtV2FEvYDQtN0ndG96sUkJK4yirwSS50vBYjPqBGdqBsY4OIKP0m7eeAMaPSUOp7Bg-mLEi3Pv7qIt5hFHF2oXL3sj6mDLVIoYUKc4HxxlZd531boH/s400/Navy-17.jpg" width="400" /></a><br />
<i>2:30pm:</i><br />
Our photographer Clare arrived and I felt bad she had nothing to photograph. It was literally me just lying there hanging out haha. (By the way, how lovely are her pictures? I'm so grateful she was wanting to use me to build her portfolio because I cannot afford birth photography. Let me know if you want to see the graphic ones - they are pretty neat!)<br />
Cora came in and I asked her why my lower abdomen was all puffy and round and she said "oh, that's your bladder - it's full" and so I had to get up and pee. My epidural was so good, it made me not even feel the need to pee (something I hadn't gone more than 10 minutes without feeling for the past few weeks)! I was able to walk to the toilet with very little help although my legs totally felt like jello. It was a little bit demoralizing not being able to walk on my own but to be honest, this rest and painless labor was dang worth it!<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9EpD3Sots-MXy7k0RVm0OeKUGzFbkGhyphenhyphenU1gPRL5H4DOTFe3o7bexIpG-nheNMkaxEs70k3JN3CyIvDYdxBrvkwU9B9gpgd6Od-tXJBdeuCiLDNb8EdR08ORl-8WbSHGj5nEozQKEX-nHV/s1600/NavyBW-61.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9EpD3Sots-MXy7k0RVm0OeKUGzFbkGhyphenhyphenU1gPRL5H4DOTFe3o7bexIpG-nheNMkaxEs70k3JN3CyIvDYdxBrvkwU9B9gpgd6Od-tXJBdeuCiLDNb8EdR08ORl-8WbSHGj5nEozQKEX-nHV/s400/NavyBW-61.jpg" width="400" /></a>Cora examined my cervix again and found I had only dilated a tiny bit since the epidural. This is expected but we still wanted to move things along so she broke my water with what looks like a crochet hook and I sat on the birthing ball instead of lying in the bed. This was the really demoralizing part when I went to sit on the ball instead my legs totally gave out and I fell on my butt. It was a soft fall as Cora and Helen were there to catch me but wow the room got tense -- no big deal guys just falling on my butt. It happens.<br />
I asked to eat my Egg McMuffin but Cora told me I shouldn't as it might make me nauseous and throw up. I didn't want that to happen but was SO excited to eat it so I took two bites to see how it went.<br />
<br />
<i>3:20pm:</i><br />
I had two more bites of my Egg McMuffin. I didn't eat the rest until after Navy was born (and I didn't wait long to do that).<br />
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While I sat on the birthing ball, we played Heads Up on Lucas's phone. There were literally so many people in the room and thought it would be a good game we could all join in on. There was me, Lucas, Marie the doula, Cora the midwife, Helen the nurse, Erin the student nurse, and Clare the photographer. It was a party!<br />
All the sudden, I started <i>feeling</i> my contractions again. And actually was having to breathe through them - like, they were painful! We decided to stop playing Heads Up.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsRqunYwCBydgagXcOivYoHLldczbSbylnrOh9atj9pTvEeT6UlJIms7sK9k-bxGulAufukc6d9eOm-BG8pc88whRlOZ3fHrahOWFk4-O9uOCMwl1TP0K36W5EB12a7FQ27wTBtJyODFYt/s1600/NavyBW-97.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsRqunYwCBydgagXcOivYoHLldczbSbylnrOh9atj9pTvEeT6UlJIms7sK9k-bxGulAufukc6d9eOm-BG8pc88whRlOZ3fHrahOWFk4-O9uOCMwl1TP0K36W5EB12a7FQ27wTBtJyODFYt/s400/NavyBW-97.jpg" width="400" /></a><br />
<i>4pm: </i><br />
Everyone except for the nurses and Cora left the room and she examined me one last time and saw that I was fully dilated and ready to push. The rest of the squad came back into the room and they got me situated on the birthing bar with a sheet draped over it for me to pull down on. The first big push I made felt very weird as I couldn't really sense the baby was coming down at all (because of the epidural) but Cora assured me I was pushing her down really well! I also peed all over the bed. So that was really embarrassing.<br />
<br />
<i>4:20pm:</i><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmZaoEj8OIX6v2gHhgcKRi6PduDfOUHZZ13w8nqc7lOS-4skRRU_S96tQCUn64DHUo5zqFJXICKExKOTcJz_hWL_tXvahOIjWRPBp1PA2TIznEJdPE22EO401YUwDPUlZLc9xBmUsSX0Q-/s1600/NavyBW-80.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmZaoEj8OIX6v2gHhgcKRi6PduDfOUHZZ13w8nqc7lOS-4skRRU_S96tQCUn64DHUo5zqFJXICKExKOTcJz_hWL_tXvahOIjWRPBp1PA2TIznEJdPE22EO401YUwDPUlZLc9xBmUsSX0Q-/s400/NavyBW-80.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
Navy was crowning at this point and in between contractions, they measured the baby's heart rate which, to my dismay and worry, it was very slow. I instantly knew it wasn't good and Cora confirmed, "Rena your baby's heart rate is slowing down now so we do need to try and get the baby out soon" and my animal instincts kicked in. On my next contraction I pushed with all my might like I might pop a blood vessel. I pushed so hard, in fact, that I was instructed to only do half-pushes after that and then, to not push at all.<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1sTEA1Yc0TZQnycAZjDjyWbnYEArktfXuEwYRCqichcVMf3Jb8qfajqvaMcKBo_L47nH2e2dq3j-3cSUDzzv22tFlCKHu7pK_i6haXoOCTCTGHb2L_vPQBOs9K4rd183ajelo6NtWB2KS/s1600/Navy-73.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1sTEA1Yc0TZQnycAZjDjyWbnYEArktfXuEwYRCqichcVMf3Jb8qfajqvaMcKBo_L47nH2e2dq3j-3cSUDzzv22tFlCKHu7pK_i6haXoOCTCTGHb2L_vPQBOs9K4rd183ajelo6NtWB2KS/s400/Navy-73.jpg" width="400" /></a><i>4:25pm:</i><br />
On the "not push at all" breath of the contraction, Navy's head glided out so easily and gently and it was so perfect. Such a calm entry into the world compared to the cannon entrance of her brother. Cora saw the exact cause of the low heart rate - Navy's cord was wrapped around her neck. So she did some kind of amazing turn of Navy's body and with barely any effort at all, I pushed out the rest of her slippery, purple, soft body and held her on my chest.<br />
<br />
Apparently after she was born and I was holding her, I had some kind of manic laughter which I do not remember. Proof that you can get those amazing endorphins without having a totally natural birth.<br />
<br />
I love that I can share my experience in both a totally natural birth in water, and a birth with an epidural. If you or anyone you know is looking to understand the difference, let me know! I am happy to share what I liked and didn't like about<br />
each one.<br />
<br />
<br />
Thanks for reading this story of how a human was brought earth side into this world. So thankful to God for the health of everyone and for such a beautiful delivery. We feel very blessed!<br />
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renabeenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02586709240686639995noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8420764263258485990.post-9589956141688305092016-08-03T12:43:00.001-07:002016-08-03T14:00:45.458-07:00I went vegan for a month and this is what happenedI've always wanted to title a blog entry that way. So intriguing! So enticing. Oooo, what is she going to say? Click bait at it's finest.<br />
<br />
I'll spare you the details of why switching to vegan has been something I've been wanting to do for a while and why recently I've challenged myself to go completely plant-based for one whole month -- <i>without</i> cheating! But I will start by saying when the month ended, I travelled to Nova Scotia with my family and decided to reward myself by going back to my old eating habits. And I am kind of shocked by the fact that I really didn't care for it. I didn't like how it made me feel and I honestly didn't like the way it tasted in the way I use to. It was surprising to me. Some other things came as a surprise to me in such a short amount of time, and I wanted to share them in case others are considering doing the same (or are just curious about this topic): [FYI these are just snippets of my thoughts. I don't want to offend anyone -- I just had some thoughts recently and hope you can be open to them!]<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnirh6F4oOy3OflwXGWLoBQ2UCt1Ox8s0Eo7vgiJIxMUkuuk9hOYENdRqNGTy38yHiKHoePNMUzDRE8ssDFIrKij5nknsrzl-X77qSKkfrsOUYPx1gVkvsCQLvaasrr3D_hOZpl-ZTl6fD/s1600/13686654_1080773305350458_7470204256111228925_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnirh6F4oOy3OflwXGWLoBQ2UCt1Ox8s0Eo7vgiJIxMUkuuk9hOYENdRqNGTy38yHiKHoePNMUzDRE8ssDFIrKij5nknsrzl-X77qSKkfrsOUYPx1gVkvsCQLvaasrr3D_hOZpl-ZTl6fD/s320/13686654_1080773305350458_7470204256111228925_n.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="320" /></a>First of all, one <strike>preconception</strike> ok, <i>judgment</i>, I had about veganism which was totally flipped upside-down was the idea that all vegans are crazy. I thought this for <i>most</i> of my life. However, the more I've talked to them and have tried to understand their motives, the more I realized that most actual vegans (I'm talking about the ones who do it for ethical reasons) are actually not crazy at all -- they're just super nice humans who have immense amounts of compassion for animals and sentient creatures. What most people see when they look at an omnivorous meal is a plate of yummy food. What most vegans see is something completely different -- they see unnecessary harm that an animal endured. This doesn't mean they don't care about other causes, or that they don't want to be friends with people who are omnivores, or that they judge omnivores (I also thought that too) -- they just have different diet and lifestyle choices to lessen the amount of suffering in the world. This made me realize that I compartmentalize the food on my plate from the places it came from. In the past, I refused to let people tell me how my meat was once an animal, or watch horrific YouTube videos (such as <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UcN7SGGoCNI" target="_blank">this one</a>) that showed animals being abused and raped because I wanted to enjoy my milkshakes and my eggs benny with bacon. But this experience made me realize that I should be, at the very least, willing to face the truth about where my food is coming from. And if I can't do that and still enjoy it, then maybe I shouldn't be eating it.<br />
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On the topic of compassion/education, another thing that I've noticed about myself is that my compassion has been growing. That is never a bad thing for anyone, but <i>especially</i> for me. I've never been the most compassionate or empathetic person (hence my note above about compartmentalization), and thinking more critically about what industries I want to support has helped me become more educated, and becoming more educated has helped me care more about others needs. This has felt like a very organic process and I am thankful I am beginning to care more about others and [hopefully] a little less about myself.<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggswfTlETMLTMU8oh3e_Xub_9uzh1jSnfidr6YH7TZgzeFeCIlWTzVG82rBWaeIbw4U-v6jNrwYfVL2TgHa1x4xIaUqVQ00Y-4NO1nMRZFDKQ9J-oL-L0j6kSChobzY8JdzXjWFT-fnZKT/s1600/image1-2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggswfTlETMLTMU8oh3e_Xub_9uzh1jSnfidr6YH7TZgzeFeCIlWTzVG82rBWaeIbw4U-v6jNrwYfVL2TgHa1x4xIaUqVQ00Y-4NO1nMRZFDKQ9J-oL-L0j6kSChobzY8JdzXjWFT-fnZKT/s320/image1-2.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">butternut squash tofu scramble, baked beans and <br />
daiya cheese, guac, cabbage and slaw, <br />
roasted taters, and my personal favourite, soft fluffy <br />
corn bread with vegan "honey butter."<br />
side note: i could not finish this meal.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Secondly, another astonishing revolution has been that, YES! It's TRUE that you can have a completely satisfying and enjoyable foodie life without eating dairy, eggs, and meat! And you can feel very full. As I've been digging into more vegan food blogs and cookbooks, I've found that there is a tremendous amount of variety and that almost anything you enjoy on a non-vegan diet can be made vegan without that much extra work. One thing that's really helped me in this transition is simply changing the way I think about food. Before starting this journey, although I had the desire to switch over, I truly had no idea what I would eat. But committing to just once month made me realize that if you just think about food a tiny bit differently, it's possible to really enjoy things you eat just as much, if not more, on a vegan diet. Also if you live in Vancouver, it is a utopia of vegan alternatives everywhere you turn. Way more than I ever thought until I actually took the time to seek them out. Take this delicious breakfast I had at Bandidas Taqueria for example!<br />
(For more info or inspiration, visit my vegan Pinterest board)!<br />
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Finally, a big change I've noticed since making the switch is how much better I feel physically and mentally. Admittedly, this was my biggest reason for doing this whole thing (I know I said I wouldn't talk about it, but it's worth mentioning the movie Forks Over Knives which inarguably proves how a plant based diet could literally save your life). I was just so low in energy and felt sluggish all the time. Even with my "cheat week" (I'll just call it that) on vacation, I still feel way better in such a short period of time since going vegan. People often argue that you can't possibly obtain enough protein on a vegan diet but after many podcast synopsis (thanks to Lucas), online resources, and through testimonials (even of supplement-free vegan body builders and athletes), I feel fairly confident that plant protein can give you all you need in your diet. Not to mention, you end up accidentally eating way more vegetables, less fat, and, even with all the vegan "junk" at your disposal, a heck of a lot less junk.<br />
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So just to be clear and to reiterate, I'm not trying to tell you to go vegan. And I'm <i>really</i> and truly not trying to "shove" any ideas "down your throat." I'm not trying to prove anything at all. I just wanted to share some of my insights as I discover them (as I do on here), and some of the new ways I've been thinking about food.<br />
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perhaps you're here and you're pregnant for the first time - congrats! you've likely been day dreaming about the adorable little fetus inside of you and what he or she will look and be like earth side. you've probably also spent some time pondering what type of parent you'll want to be and started scoping out other new parents you see on the street. you see other moms doing certain things and think "oh i want to be like that. i vibe with that cool parent." from my experience, and from listening to those around me also having babies, there's a really good chance you've started deciding things you <i>will not</i> do as a parent.<br />
<br />
"i will be a cool mom" you've probably said to yourself.<br />
<br />
"i'm not going to let this human take over my life" you declare with certainty.<br />
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well i'm here to tell you that you will almost definitely not be a cool mom (at least not the kind of cool mom you pictured when you first started thinking about having kids) and you absolutely will let the human take over your life. here are some ways that you will inevitably become the lame mom and dad you hoped you wouldn't (and why you won't care).<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLyoS3Gpn5OP-7gQQ_J5MP6ncqff9F_2wRsd0NITcj3Z8tdXlvvUU9VFFCitmmuEbxvf6zwqDADhUT6gvX_I9GoXNumQ4eiGMcRE8TvUe6JiNUSfytcxH0WUTv1KGqCpvv0ndZnzIres3J/s1600/IMG_6724.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLyoS3Gpn5OP-7gQQ_J5MP6ncqff9F_2wRsd0NITcj3Z8tdXlvvUU9VFFCitmmuEbxvf6zwqDADhUT6gvX_I9GoXNumQ4eiGMcRE8TvUe6JiNUSfytcxH0WUTv1KGqCpvv0ndZnzIres3J/s320/IMG_6724.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<ul>
<li><b>you will <i>for sure</i> rub rub your pregnant belly (or your partners pregnant belly). </b>even if you're some of the rare few who resist the temptation to do this in public, as soon as you get into your comfy clothes and are in the secret of your home, you will rub the crap out of your belly in hopes of communicating with your darling child. and you will love it. </li>
<li><b>you will take progression pictures of your growing bump. </b>you may not post them <i>all</i> to instagram, but you know the ones you do post get more likes than any other photos you post of seawall sunsets, earnest ice creams, or cherry blossoms and blue skies. you will enjoy the attention.</li>
<li><b>you will go on a babymoon.</b> my friend told me the other day she and her husband are taking a trip to hawaii during her second trimester. "oh you're taking a babymoon?" i say in jest knowing full-well she thinks that "<a href="http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=babymoon">babymoons</a>" are super lame. "no, it's not a babymoon! we just want to take a trip and enjoy some independence before the baby arrives!" she replies, naively. "oh, yeah. like a babymoon!" i say, with smug satisfaction. </li>
<li><b>you will talk to your child in an ugly voice</b> that's even unrecognizable to your partner. you <i>will</i> speak in third person. when you hear yourself on camera, you will cringe. but you will continue to use that voice when you talk to your baby because he/she will light up when you do, and you will do anything embarrassing for the chance to see that happen. </li>
<li>on that note, <b>you will also use over-expressive gestures</b> and basically become a walking stand up comedian slash broadway stage performer. especially on those rainy days when the two of you won't leave the house. it will be really important to you that you make your baby <i>lol</i> more than anyone else, and you will go to great lengths to ensure your first place ranking. </li>
<li><b>you will also go to those baby sing-song groups</b> and feel sheepish your first time for not knowing the words to the songs. you will be determined to go every week so you can learn all the actions and words to really lame songs so you can feel like the best mom while also looking like a total pro! you will not care that these songs aren't the beatles vinyl you said you would play for your infant in hopes of him/her having really good taste in music. </li>
<li><b>your life will become overrun with colourful plastic shit.</b> you won't realize it's happening because it will happen very slowly over time. you will find something plastic and gaudy in every room by the time the baby is 6 months old. you know why? because babies love plastic, gaudy, colourful crap. the uglier, the better. if you are one of those people who ends up buying only organic, wood, neutral coloured crap in determination not to let your life become overrun with the colourful plastic stuff, then have fun singing those broadway songs. all. day. long.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</li>
<li><b>your social media will become hijacked by pictures of your child.</b> if you are expecting and think for one second you won't post the most basic baby pictures of all times, then you are kidding yourself! even the most all-star-hipster parents who have untarnished instagram feeds, will post the basic pictures of their child. because instagram is about showing off. and your baby is, in your mind, your greatest accomplishment. </li>
<li><b>you will stay in more. </b>bonus: you won't have FOMO about it either. you will revel so much in putting your kid to bed and just being able to sit in your underwear, eat chips, and stare at a screen for two hours in silence, that you won't even care what anyone else is doing. after you are done, you will look through all of the photos you took of your child that day with your partner and gush. </li>
<li><b>on the times that you <i>do</i> go out, it won't be like it use to.</b> you may spend some time in the bathroom awkwardly with your pump wishing you could find a child to nurse instead of being attached to a machine, and you'll likely leave at 10pm just as people are arriving for dread of waking up the next day (sleep will be too valuable to you to stay out late, even if your caregiver has your child for the night). you will most certainly bring up your child in conversation often, and, as the night goes on, insist on showing the new friends you meet pictures of him/her even though they literally couldn't care less about your child. </li>
</ul>
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if you happen to be able to avoid some or all of the above, bravo! you managed to remain reasonably cool (assuming you were cool to begin with). but all jokes aside, my favourite thing about becoming a mom has been becoming increasingly lame over the past year and a bit. i relish in the moments when lucas and i gush over photos of casper together after a long day (with moments of frustration with each other and/or him), and we remember how awesome it is to be doing what we're doing; i confidently sport jam-stained sweaters, and cheese in my hair, without a worry in the world; and i have managed to come up with creative ways to keep our house <i>relatively </i>free of unsightly clutter. </div>
<div>
and probably the <i>best</i> part about being a lame parent, is having other lame parents around for the party so you know you're never alone. lame. it's the new cool, guys. đ</div>
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<span style="background-color: #bd081c; background-position: 3px 50%; background-repeat: no-repeat no-repeat; background-size: 14px; border-bottom-left-radius: 2px; border-bottom-right-radius: 2px; border-top-left-radius: 2px; border-top-right-radius: 2px; border: none; color: white; cursor: pointer; display: none; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 11px; font-style: normal; font-weight: bold; left: 359px; line-height: 20px; opacity: 0.85; padding: 0px 4px 0px 0px; position: absolute; text-align: center; text-indent: 20px; top: 468px; width: auto; z-index: 8675309;">Save</span><span style="background-color: #bd081c; background-position: 3px 50%; background-repeat: no-repeat no-repeat; background-size: 14px; border-bottom-left-radius: 2px; border-bottom-right-radius: 2px; border-top-left-radius: 2px; border-top-right-radius: 2px; border: none; color: white; cursor: pointer; display: none; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 11px; font-style: normal; font-weight: bold; left: 359px; line-height: 20px; opacity: 0.85; padding: 0px 4px 0px 0px; position: absolute; text-align: center; text-indent: 20px; top: 468px; width: auto; z-index: 8675309;">Save</span>renabeenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02586709240686639995noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8420764263258485990.post-32717614650375323132015-12-11T11:20:00.000-08:002015-12-11T11:30:56.345-08:00a state of want and the season of christmas So I have a confession. I cried while watching The Grinch the other day. Like real tears streaming down my face. It happened during the scene where Cindy Lou's dad stands up for her after the mayor blasts her for ruining Christmas. It was as if I have never seen that scene before even though I've watched this movie every Christmas since it's been out. Am I the only one who one year, in their late twenties suddenly woke up out of a seeming state of sleep and went "<i>this holiday feels like a joke</i>"? Like, I don't know if it's having a kid of my own for the first time, or feeling a little extra frugal than usual, or living in a co-op amongst a community who value leisure and mother earth above possessions, but this year, I find myself getting more and more depressed observing all of the fussiness surrounding this season.<br />
<br />
As I said to Lucas the other night over dinner, "I feel like a total Scrooge this year" -- I don't know what happened! I use to <i>love</i> everything about Christmas. But now I feel like Christmas is so basic; finding the perfect thing for your friends and family, wrapping it, taking selfies wrapping it (crop, filter, caption, post), waking up on December 25th to a full stocking, and a dozen presents to open and watch be opened, and moving along to later in the day to stuff our bodies full with sweets and fat, all in the name of "Christmas." It's like the more we talk about "the spirit of giving," the more I feel like it's a cheesy cop-out. The bigger companies have caught on to our sentimentality of the season and use it to sell us things and I feel like I'm being brainwashed to think it's all about a "spirit of giving" when it's actually just about spending more money on things we don't need for a temporary state of fulfillment and joy.<br />
<br />
I reeeeeeally need to check my heart and spirit on this one. I know how bitter I sound. And don't be confused -- I <i>am</i> bitter. I think part of my difficulty with this season, is that the reality is my family doesn't have the means to go all out and 'spoil' (as they'd call it) each other. As I said, I think maybe part of my disgust with holiday consumerism is the fact that gift giving in our home is a few small doodads in each others stockings. I'm not trying to sound lowly or humble or meek. The reality is we spent a lot of money on our trip to Austin in the fall, and decided that would be our Christmas present. The reality is when you have to buy a new car seat, and have mini home renovations, and are saving up for a couch, you will sacrifice the thrill of gift opening on Christmas morning. So it's not that we don't have money, but just that we decided to use it in other ways. So partly, maybe I feel a little on the outskirts of what I would normally cheerfully join in on.<br />
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But I don't think that's all. I feel like part of my bitterness is justified. Part of my bitterness is bred from the desperateness that so many people in our world face and how that desperateness will still be there when they wake up on Christmas morning as I sit all cushy with my Baileys and coffee in my pyjamas by the tree with my family. Part of my bitterness stems from the waste; after all the stressing, and time, and energy is spent on going out, picking out, buying, wrapping present upon present, how much of it will be forgotten about. Part of my bitterness comes from wanting my son to grow up in a world where memories are more important than possessions, and not being sure if that's even possible at this point. I know this is totally the new mom in me, but I want him to embrace the knowledge that if it were not for Jesus entering in our world as a humble baby, we wouldn't have hope that extends beyond the material world. I just don't want to wake up 15 Christmas's from now as that mom who got so caught up in getting things for my kids that I forget about the mom who sits here two weeks away from Christmas 2015, penning a blog about how sad I find it is all becoming.<br />
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Please don't hear this as me criticizing people for getting presents. Honestly, like I said, I realize that a part of me is sorry for the fact I can't go out and spend buttloads of money on the people I love. Sharing is caring and it's wonderful and it's kindness and it <i>can be</i> a beautiful thing. This is just me venting. I'm mourning a loss of meaning in my Christmas's in the past, and I'm freaked out by the fact that I'm only really finding all of it more sobering than joyful at the age of 27. And I know I'm partly responsible for allowing myself to be compliant with consumeristic values. But <i>it's so easy</i> in our society because of the state of want that we live in -- especially in a city like Vancouver. It's like we want and need so much of the year, that our culture has tried to remedy it <i>with Christmas</i> -- "lets just have one month at the end of the year when we just buy tons of crap so we don't have to live in this uncomfortable state of wanting-but-not-attaining."<br />
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So maybe that's that. Maybe I cried watching The Grinch for the first time because being in a state of want this Christmas has caused me to think more critically about the ways I deal with those feelings of <i>wanting</i>. Maybe being in a state of want is right where I need to be more of the time - to bring me to my knees in realizing that what I really <i>need </i>is more moments like these; maybe we could all use more moments like the one The Grinch had when he heard the Whos in Whoville singing:<br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">"<span style="color: #333333; font-size: 13px;">He puzzled and puzzed till his puzzler was sore. Then the Grinch thought of something he hadn't before. Maybe Christmas, he thought... doesn't come from a store. Maybe Christmas, perhaps... means a little bit more"</span></i></span></div>
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<br />
Merry Christmas, with Love from The Grinch<br />
<br />renabeenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02586709240686639995noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8420764263258485990.post-73618947828042371202015-10-28T20:57:00.001-07:002015-10-28T21:12:02.720-07:00my top baby out of the ordinary "must-haves" and "don't-bothers"yes, i know what you're thinking: why are all these posts about babies? and why does she think she can give us baby advice when she's only had one and he's still only 6 months old? ok well, for one, a huge portion of the content on my social media is about Casper, babies, sleeping, mommying, etc, because <i>that's what my life is now</i>! people blog and post about whatever they want. if they're into the gym, they post about that. if they're into veganism, or makeup, or marianas trench, they post about those things. i'm pretty into this human i am with (practically) 24/7 so imma post about it and you can unfollow if you don't care and i won't be offended. this just happens to be what is on my mind and heart right now. and as far as inexperience goes, i am totally with you! but i share things as they are fresh on my mind in hopes that they may be helpful to someone else. i don't claim to know very much at all, in fact having a baby makes me feel the opposite of that, but i can share with you what wisdom i've been graced with thus far while it's hot off the press.<br />
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our beautiful friends, matt and meaghan, are having their first baby this winter and, as she was building her registry, she asked me to share a few of my favourite must-haves. after i sent her the list, she said i should post it so that other expectant mom's may glean from it as well. (also a few things i wish i didn't waste my money on - you're welcome!) behold:<br />
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<u>my top must-have's for the first 6 months</u><br />
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1. <b>the D-link DCS-800L day & night baby monitor</b><br />
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got this idea from a friend of mine, super mom, kelley leil! super small and easy to use, this wall-mountable camera connects to an app on your phone so you can see your baby literally anywhere you go. other than the obvious benefits of being able to see and hear if your baby wakes up when you may be in the opposite end of the house, this means when you sleep-train your baby (if that's a thing you chose to do), you can literally watch your baby learn to self-soothe before your eyes and be amazed at how BRILLIANT your child is. and rather than burst into their room and wake them up in a panic-stricken moment when they've actually slept longer than 5 hours, you can quickly open your app when you want to check to see that they're still alive (i've, many a time, zoomed in on C's tummy to make sure it's going up and down). it's so handy. can come with you for overnighters. and for less than $100 you can't go wrong! can find at walmart or amazon.ca<br />
<i>ps. it came to my attention that some people may be worried about "creepers" who hack the camera and watch your baby and 1. why would someone want to watch your baby other than you? and 2. there are like a billion steps for getting it first synced with your phone so i truly don't think it would be possible for someone you don't know to hack into the camera. but i had to put the disclaimer for "con's" about this camera. </i><br />
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2. <b>conair sound therapy system </b><br />
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don't waste your time and money with sissy sound machines that are so quiet. the point of a sound machine isn't to lull your baby to sleep (although it will probably help do that in the early newborn days - aka the "fourth trimester"). the point is that you can put your baby to bed and actually talk at a relatively normal decibel past 7pm without waking him up. can't tell you how many times we have dropped a pot doing dishes or the smoke alarm has gone off, and he doesn't even know because this thing is so loud. this machine has 10 sounds (and i'm pretty sure they threw the questionable ones such as "heart beat" in there just so they could say it has 10 sounds - i mean really how many sounds do you need?). we use the "running stream." it's nice and loud, and i think we've used it enough and for so long that now casper also associates it with sleep and bedtime which, once again, is awesome for sleep-training! (can you tell that we're sleep training right now? ha!) this literally plays all night and has become the soundtrack to our own dreams as casper's bedroom is right next to ours. can't complain - who doesn't want to sleep beside a running stream? you can pick this bad boy up at london drugs for a whopping $24.99. </div>
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3. <b>phil and ted's portable travel cot - "the only full size cot that's lighter than the baby!"</b><br />
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ok so let me preface this by strongly stating i have done <i>extensive</i> research on this. although most people boast that the bjorn travel crib is the best one out there, i'll give you some reasons right now why this one is way more worth your money. first, it's $100 cheaper. need i explain more. second, the newer design is way more sleek and much easier to use than the old phil and ted travel crib system - i've used both: once when i borrowed my friends, and after when we went and bought the new one. i can see how bjorn beat out p&t before but the newer one is super simple to install and pack up. thirdly, it's longer and narrower meaning, your kid won't grow out of it as fast. fourthy, you can carry it over your shoulder like a camping chair as opposed to in one hand like a briefcase. and lastly, and most importantly, if you ever plan on traveling by air with your child before the age of 3 or 4, you will want this travel crib as it fits as a carryon where as bjorn has to be checked as an additional piece of luggage -- there goes an extra $50 every time you fly return.<br />
the benefit to the bjorn over the p&t is that it sets up way faster. but when i say "way" i mean you save approximately 4 minutes. i think you can handle it.<br />
if you don't think that you need a travel crib, i'm just going to stop you right there and say that you're wrong. i didn't think we would need one either. when you're pregnant you're just trying to get through labor. and then as soon as they grow out of their bassinet you're like, how are we ever going to put him down for naps at friends houses, or stay the night at someone's house, or go camping? unless you literally never leave your house, you will need a travel crib and i would suggest staying away from traditional "pack and plays" unless you, again, like throwing your money away when you travel by air, or want to get a serious arm workout lugging around a 20lb massive child's bed everywhere you go. whatever you do, just get one really good travel crib. it's about as important as your stroller as they both benefit you by allowing you to be completely mobile with your baby. you won't regret it.<br />
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4. <b>love to dream - swaddle up <span style="color: #252525; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">â˘</span></b><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">shoutout to casper for his modelling!</td></tr>
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someone told me when i was pregnant that i <i>absolutely must</i> get one of these and i was like, hmmm, k bye felicia. i think it's because i thought it was gimmicky but guys. this swaddle is awesome! i've noticed that swaddling does tend to be a really personal thing. some moms swear by it and some moms say their baby hates it. this, i find you could do if either. casper did like to be swaddled, and tended to sleep better that way, but, like most babies, no matter how tight i made it, he always broke out of it and it made me nervous how it always ended up around his neck every morning! also once i tried this, i realized it has the benefits of swaddling (baby isn't stimulating their nervous system with reflexive physical movements, or waking themselves up by swatting themselves in the face) without the downside (baby can't self-soothe). this offered a happy medium where he could bring his fist to his mouth and not feel totally constrained, but wasn't constantly jerking around waking himself up. best of all, it always stayed on him. it was used as our "transition" into sleeping without a swaddle and really saved our butts. i remember the first time i put it on him, he was crying and almost instantly settled. these things are only $30 at west coast kids on main street. do yerself a favour and just get one and try it on for size.<br />
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5. <b>weleda - calendula nappy change cream (aka bum cream) </b><br />
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i've heard of some pretty badass (heh) butt rashes out there on babies and it's such a sin! honestly it's something that can be so easily avoided and a really high quality cream can provide so much relief to your little one. just spend the extra $8 or whatever it is and get this one. it is so sensitive on your babies skin and literally any time there was a bit of redness on casper, this would clear it up in one day after only a few diaper changes and applications later. it was such a life-saver! i actually like this product so much i'm looking into their line for adults as well (not for butt cream but for their facial skin care stuff. har, har. glad i clarified that one).</div>
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so that concludes my top major<br />
recommendations. it goes without saying it's good to have a really great electric breast pump and hand pump but i wouldn't go spend $400 on a breast pump unless you have to (also i would recommend waiting and making sure that breastfeeding works out - it would be a shame to buy one only to end up formula feeding anyways! breast pumps are not usually refundable for obvious reasons). the best thing to do is borrow from one of your friends who won't need it for about a year and then buy the accessories in a kit on amazon. that's what i did. and you should get a hand pump as well for any time you don't have the convenience of plugging in a back-pack sized device.<br />
also ask me if you would like a PDF of a good sleep training program. it's been handed down to me and it is probably the most clear and concise and arguably the most effective sleep training program for babies (especially once they're 4 months and up!)<br />
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my "wouldn't bother with these things" list is small but worth mentioning:<br />
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1. <b>these soothers. </b><br />
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cute, nice idea, but ew - they taste weird and they squeak (yes i've tried them)! and casper, along with his two friends west, and georgia, both hated these soothers. a soother that i've heard lots of people having luck with is the one piece nuk. but you might have to test run a few before you find the one your baby likes. let me know if you have had luck with these and i'll remove this product bash, but i think most babies like the texture of traditional soothers better. </div>
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2. <b>these things you put in car seats (or any kind of fluffy insert/sleep suit/onesie for the carseat). </b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTwpdQQtT4qsW5DP7QZEbS8FFrizzyEmH_KiEv5Ekr9-7myPhi0fS987O3QhNHi80i72pIFl1JZi0Y0IHCgwFDrIRd7EFr0IhMljUiOU2ll1zrFr2ZAOd0gzMMKIPo2my1vbzGyYkEwjz2/s1600/pTRU1-12904166dt.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTwpdQQtT4qsW5DP7QZEbS8FFrizzyEmH_KiEv5Ekr9-7myPhi0fS987O3QhNHi80i72pIFl1JZi0Y0IHCgwFDrIRd7EFr0IhMljUiOU2ll1zrFr2ZAOd0gzMMKIPo2my1vbzGyYkEwjz2/s320/pTRU1-12904166dt.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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we had one of these and when the nurse was inspecting our carseat before we left the hospital with C, she told us that any type of padding between the baby and the carseat/harness can be fatally dangerous unless it is fully attached to the carseat itself (as in, stitched into the fabric). she said if you need to support a tiny newborn's head in the carseat, it is much safer to roll up two receiving blankets and place them on either side (not above or behind) their head. don't shoot the messenger! just saying what she told us and i subsequently have read multiple times on the articles that mom's always are posting to Facebook about carseat safety. i just wouldn't take my risks with something like that, y'know?! </div>
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3. <b>baby shoes. for the first little while.</b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1YFDvbDyKtt_Ekrw75cyjd7S2zhg0mh_xHnRJp8j6tcu-mG22vxptcFtQoGIMeo6D0-rYP2c8yGPo6lCTQSCKxTzECBJEY8cK4VOdmvni8inaBtrOAi3eEc_FFvbKFMR87XmTblIyouvk/s1600/shopping.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="245" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1YFDvbDyKtt_Ekrw75cyjd7S2zhg0mh_xHnRJp8j6tcu-mG22vxptcFtQoGIMeo6D0-rYP2c8yGPo6lCTQSCKxTzECBJEY8cK4VOdmvni8inaBtrOAi3eEc_FFvbKFMR87XmTblIyouvk/s320/shopping.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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i know how tempting it is. they're sooooo tiny and cute tiny versions of normally big things are the most tempting. however, it is simply not worth it. there are a few types of baby shoes out there on the market which are totally worth the investment (think minimoc-esque shoes that have the elastic band). if you're going to outfit your babies feet in something other than socks, it needs to be something that can go on easily, but also won't come off. so do some research! don't just buy size 3-month ugg boot knock-off's at TJ Maxx because they're cute. they won't be cute when you take 10 minutes to put each one on and they they get kicked off within 40 seconds. </div>
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renabeenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02586709240686639995noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8420764263258485990.post-89629179037935273062015-08-26T22:27:00.001-07:002015-08-26T22:43:13.766-07:00my advice for first time mom's [based on my extremely limited, yet fresh, knowledge]<br />
whew! that was a <i>RIDE</i>. now that it's all over, i'm just going to lay out on the table some of my big take-aways for end of pregnancy, labor, and "fourth trimester" madness. i know from first hand experience how when you're pregnant, people like to smother you with well-intended advice and it can often come across as condescending and just plain annoying. i figured if i wrote <i>mine</i> here, then i can get it off my chest and not be one of those people. if you're here and you're pregnant having your first baby and looking for advice, well then, that's your choice! i'm not going to force anything on anyone -- but maybe some of these can help some of you out there with the many a'questions that pregnancy tends to bring up.<br />
<br />
out of all the advice <i>i</i> received, here are my top things i either did do and am <i>really</i> glad i did, or didn't do and <i>really</i> wish i had've done!<br />
<br />
<br />
<i>i'm really glad i...</i>
<br />
<ul>
<li><b>hired a doula. </b>someone who is pregnant wrote me a message a few weeks ago asking if i would recommend getting a doula and i practically wrote a novel in response with my resounding <i>YES</i>. i remember when i was about mid-pregnancy, someone in my bible study trying to convince me that hiring a doula would be worth the money and me just sitting there so incredibly unconvinced. looking back, i don't know what i was thinking in my scepticism. our doula was a little bit of heaven when i was in labor and i would never want to do it again without one. if you're going to get one, make sure you feel you connect with her and that your values align. this is going to be one of the best, but also one of the most difficult, days of your life and your doula will play such an incredible role in it!</li>
<li><b>read and listened to lots and lots of stories. </b>don't be afraid to talk birth -- it's all weird and gross and awkward, and some of it is scary too, but you're going to have to go through it eventually so just cut to the chase and make the most of it. <a href="http://www.amazon.ca/Ina-Mays-Guide-Childbirth-Material/dp/0553381156">ina may's guide to childbirth</a> is filled with real birth stories of real women. each detailed story is so unique and so awesome. i also watched dozens of youtube videos of women giving birth -- lots of weird ones ha! it's ok if you watch one or listen to someone tell a story and it scares you - that's normal! you're going to do something you've never done and you have no idea what day it's going to happen or how it's going to happen and you know there are chances it could not go how you plan and that's crazy but it's all <i>okay </i>and the reason it's okay is because trillions of women have blazed this trail before us and we have them to inspire us that <i>we</i> can do it too! in my opinion, the worst thing you can do is just put it in a box in the back of your mind or shut yourself out from the possibilities. at the end of it, you get to be a part of the secret club of knowing what it's like to give birth and that's a pretty spectacular thing to look forward to. </li>
<li><b>had a "plan" but not a P.L.A.N..</b> obviously you should go over with your doctor/midwife your options for different things (i.e. interventions) during the stages of labor and consider <a href="http://perinatalempowerment.com/?p=282">B.R.A.I.N. (benefits, risks, alternatives, instinct, nothing)</a>. it's good to know, and talk about, your options before you're pushing a baby out. maybe try to envision what your ideal birth might look like and have a "if this, then that" action plan. but i think many women who have been through it would tell you, try not to cling too tightly to your vision of your ideal birth. i know that's hard because when people told me that i was so annoyed. but your body has a way of doing what it wants to do, and no two birth experiences are the same so try to have a sense of flexibility and embrace that your story is going to be uniquely yours!</li>
<li><b>sex! had lots of it!</b> especially near the end of your pregnancy it's good to have sex - everyone will tell you this. yes - it's great for getting things moving and softening your cervix. but more importantly - you don't know the next time you'll get to. so enjoy it while you can. 'nuff said.</li>
<li><b>didn't buy tons of baby clothes.</b> people will <i>give you</i> tons of baby clothes (no they won't use your registry! ha, silly!). but also, your baby could come out a 5lb ragamuffin or it could come out a 10lb beast. my baby fit his heavier fall clothes in the heat of summer because he was just a little bit bigger than average and so he never got to wear many of those things. so try not to get too carried away with your baby's wardrobe before you know how big he/she is!</li>
<li><b>hired a lactation consultant.</b> i think i was about a week into breastfeeding when i really accepted that things weren't quite working. the baby was gaining weight <i>ok, </i>but i was once told by a very wise woman that breastfeeding <i>shouldn't hurt</i>. probably 90% of women i talked to said "it will hurt the first 6 weeks." however, i trusted the wisdom, and my instinct, that it shouldn't hurt. makes sense right? we've been doing it for eons and it's the most natural thing in the world! so when it began to become habitually painful for me and my sad nipples, i called shahrzad. she came over to our apartment for one hour and helped me learn how to get the baby in the right position so he could get a good deep latch on his own and the difference was night and day! if you find it painful, message me and i'll give you her number. it was probably the best $100 i ever spent!</li>
<li><b>introduce a bottle and keep it going.</b> so glad someone told me to do this! although i adore breastfeeding, i, for one, couldn't imagine going the whole year being the only way he could get his milkshakes. i knew i wanted to do little weekends away from him here and there and was determined to make sure he could take milk from a bottle. at 4 weeks, breastfeeding was going well - there were no major red flags or issue with c's latch, so we gave the bottle a go! i would say, if things are <i>not</i> going super smooth with breastfeeding, to maybe wait it out a bit longer. but 4 weeks is apparently a sweet spot for many people and babies. try different bottles if the first one is a fail. and then, once you've found the right bottle and nipple, try to do one bottle a day every day after that. the baby may accept it the first time but then refuse it if you wait even a week or two before doing it again. we got into a good routine where lucas would feed casper his last bottle before bed, and i would pump for the next night's feeding before i went to bed. this way, the baby is use to someone other than mom doing the bedtime routine, and you can have that time to yourself to tidy or read or whatever you want! it's nice for dad to have a way to bond with the baby - because that can be tricky to do otherwise. also something about pumping a baby <i>full</i> of milk before bed seems to make them snooze just a little bit longer before the next feed - but i might be just making that up!</li>
</ul>
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<div>
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<div>
<br />
<i>i really wish i...</i>
<br />
<ul>
<li><b>did those damn <a href="http://www.wikihow.com/Do-Perineal-Massage">perineum massages</a>. </b>(yes, that is a wikihow link. you're welcome). i probably had 5 people tell me to do this before labor. yes, they sound raunchy. and apparently they can also be a bit painful. but i think they could have saved me a lot of post-birth pain. think of it this way, you wouldn't go into a sprint without warming up your body first right? same thing.... basically...</li>
<li><b>organized a meal train for post-birth.</b> everyone wants to visit you and see your baby and many people actually do want to help but don't know how to help or what to do. introducing technology and <a href="https://www.mealtrain.com/">this website</a> to help organize all of those things! it's so nice to have home-cooked meals (especially ones you can eat with one hand!) delivered to your door with a few awesome friends who want to hold and cuddle your baby. i didn't want to set this up because i didn't want to put anyone out of their way or make them feel obligated to do something, but really people will only do the things because they <i>want</i> to! and they're really all looking for an excuse to come over and squeeze your baby a bit. just do yourself a favour and start one - no one is going to think it's selfish or weird. </li>
<li><b>had not focused so much on my due <i>date</i>.</b> our prenatal instructor warned us of this, urging us to use the term "due-month" instead of due date and i did not listen. i think next time, i'm just going to tack on 2 weeks to my due date and if it comes earlier, then it'll just be a pleasant surprise. my doula told me to get really vague and say "it's a spring baby" so do that when you're asked what your due date is and leave people super confused. one of the many benefits is that no one will be hounding you with text messages such as "sooooo... how are you <i>feeling</i>?" when your due date starts to approach. </li>
<li><b>trusted my body, trusted the process, and trusted my instinct.</b> i know me saying this isn't going to magically make you trust in yourself. there is nothing that makes doing this easy or natural. but man, i wish i did. throughout my pregnancy, leading up to labor, and in labor itself. and even now as a mama. if i could just trust a little more, i could make this a lot easier on myself.</li>
<li><b>started a stockpile early. </b>i'm going to end on this very practical note. start your stock pile of milk early. it takes weeks to get enough for days worth of milk so if you ever plan on leaving your ball and chain, start early. also pumping once a day every day from the beginning will be easier then starting three months in like i did because your body will respond to the demand with higher supply. if you place the order early when the baby comes, supply will stay high as long as you keep the demand there. just chose a rhythm and get grooving girl. or else you'll be like me, dealing with stinky formula farts after a weekend away with your husband. </li>
</ul>
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so i could write a conclusion here but i'd rather just leave on the notes of stinky formula farts. happy birthing!</div>
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renabeenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02586709240686639995noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8420764263258485990.post-55631848721347238602015-07-29T22:03:00.003-07:002015-07-29T22:11:20.970-07:00being ok with the new us<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0qx5lbK81sdfTFZ0CqnfWPnBTpkCz-eYJYcRXAUSh237IdqnKSb8pRWWHDMRdH_ujV0kTlvxiAPeKvXEqoZUREFQJuLDkkAVJTLG74UARPhzpFh0RXVWW8M4jwSqwwDCZoUwHiJXn_8Fd/s1600/IMG_9105.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0qx5lbK81sdfTFZ0CqnfWPnBTpkCz-eYJYcRXAUSh237IdqnKSb8pRWWHDMRdH_ujV0kTlvxiAPeKvXEqoZUREFQJuLDkkAVJTLG74UARPhzpFh0RXVWW8M4jwSqwwDCZoUwHiJXn_8Fd/s320/IMG_9105.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">fancy free - one week before finding out about C</td></tr>
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<i>Sidebar: I had been drafting something for lifeispleasing for the two-month mark of parenthood - a few little eye-openers about babies. But, of course, "something" distracted me and I never got around to posting it. However, my friend Lauren, whose baby girl Georgia was born the evening before Casper, did an incredible job summing up what I probably would have babbled on about for pages and pages. Check out her blog, Grown Up Party, <a href="http://grownupparty.com/">here</a>. </i><br />
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It's no secret that having a baby was not part of the plan for Lucas and I at this particular stage in our lives and marriage. I always like to express this whenever I talk about having Casper only a few years into marriage. I use to be of the opinion that people who got pregnant young/early into the marriage were throwing the best years of their lives away - the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/DINK_(acronym)">DINK</a> years. The years to dance, and travel, and have crazy nights filled with wild antics and meeting people and doing the things you'll never get to do once you finally <i>do</i> buy a house and have babies; the days to not be <i>quite </i>a grownup yet, but still getting to cash in on some sweet benefits of adulthood including enjoying a partnership with your best friend.<br />
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But now I am one of those people I secretly judged. We were only married a year when we found out about baby C. And although a part of me misses what we had during that first year, I am learning to embrace this shift in our lives and our marriage. Because while it has been a challenge and has, at times, brought out my absolute worst, being a parent has simultaneously allowed me to experience Lucas, and my life in general, in light of the kind of vulnerability only having a baby could have lead us to.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPauvKB6gvrzQV2U4cODi4sfVIljEEZgTjaoItRr3cSnnK2cB_2q-vIu4huKaRRd5x1pKy3OAXYCpSCP5BWrv8Z3EvSPUzHtIadQaQKhSub8ZouMMkmP1WOkpmnkYL3KaZBvXOCyjhGyob/s1600/IMG_9279.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPauvKB6gvrzQV2U4cODi4sfVIljEEZgTjaoItRr3cSnnK2cB_2q-vIu4huKaRRd5x1pKy3OAXYCpSCP5BWrv8Z3EvSPUzHtIadQaQKhSub8ZouMMkmP1WOkpmnkYL3KaZBvXOCyjhGyob/s320/IMG_9279.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">the day before we found out, we were enjoying DINK to the fullest</td></tr>
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I've had moments in the past three months, where I'll look at Lucas from across the room after saying something nasty and short-tempered and immediately feel a pit in my stomach wondering how I let myself get to that place again. Instead of embracing him with a warm hug when he comes home from work, some days I greet him covered in dried spit-up, a messy ponytail, wearing only underwear and the same t-shirt I slept in, practically begging for him to take Casper because I am on the verge of losing my patience. While not everyday is this extreme, the days that are can really bring me, and us, down. And while we may have so much to check in with each other on to make sure that our marriage isn't taking a back seat to our baby, sometimes by the time we have a moment to chat, all we want to do is curl up in bed and pass out! I miss having so much fuel in my tank to give deserved love to a guy who works so hard everyday for our family. I miss feeling sexy and social and vibrant when there are lots of days I just feel worn down, messy, fat, and tired.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwPqTpO-Xxx3ypuR3xTpCEVAc41Vyso29GesR60G9F7-y44wW_vDl60pZr67fLYDQK3uKM_2MRWumDegTGSpeRWpIaqcrcsjQpm0pK29HfufhbWFWRBsqUlgZbut1F5XLCry3swNfNla8t/s1600/IMG_9292.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwPqTpO-Xxx3ypuR3xTpCEVAc41Vyso29GesR60G9F7-y44wW_vDl60pZr67fLYDQK3uKM_2MRWumDegTGSpeRWpIaqcrcsjQpm0pK29HfufhbWFWRBsqUlgZbut1F5XLCry3swNfNla8t/s320/IMG_9292.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">i was a little overwhelmed</td></tr>
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But I do have to say that with all of the struggles and guilt, and stress and strain that having a baby has placed on our marriage, how incredible it's been to see our hearts, and attitude, and love for each other change for the better. There is nothing like the moments where the three of us are together - Casper being his usual weird self while Lucas and I are unable to contain our laughter and amusement with him. There is nothing like seeing Lucas come out of the bedroom after an hour of patiently bouncing an over-tired baby to sleep - pure relief and satisfaction! There's nothing like being told I'm the most beautiful woman in the world when I have bags under my eyes and haven't shaved my legs in over a week, because I know he doesn't see me with the same eyes that he use to see me with. Everything about our lives just became a little more complicated. But in the shift, has there also entered a deepness and rawness with each other like I didn't even know was possible. The hugs are different now; the cuddles are different; the I-Love-You's are different, now that we have a baby. Nothing has opened our hearts to one another, nothing makes me enjoy the simple things about our marriage, and truly nothing has made me love this man more than Casper joining our lives. I can't possibly think of a better team-building exercise that could have strengthened us as a unit more than having a baby together. We're not the same us that we were in the first few photos here, but I'm really ok with the new us.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWrsLtGRPv-gxXL1Vw3Vn4V29JwS5IxnaV7k8aB3MAh4qx6_24hmVXtGa5m4qbQ7l9EnYiXGyGrEPgkTOq78wlytHQSP0KLGaHvgkZtISQ9W3dQFtR9P0JKI6K2yN6rbC4yaRvkfrWPmCM/s1600/Screen+Shot+2015-06-15+at+4.10.09+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWrsLtGRPv-gxXL1Vw3Vn4V29JwS5IxnaV7k8aB3MAh4qx6_24hmVXtGa5m4qbQ7l9EnYiXGyGrEPgkTOq78wlytHQSP0KLGaHvgkZtISQ9W3dQFtR9P0JKI6K2yN6rbC4yaRvkfrWPmCM/s320/Screen+Shot+2015-06-15+at+4.10.09+PM.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">still fancy and over the moon for each other. c, not so much.</td></tr>
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This is still just the beginning of a journey for the new [parent-version] us. Happy (late) 2nd Anniversary to the man of my heart, the father of my son, my ride-or-die, partner in crime, perfect-puzzle-piece-of-a-match, Man. Happy one year anniversary to us on the day we found out we would be parents. Casper, thanks for coming. You have been the best surprise we didn't know we wanted and a source of inspiration now and for years to come.<br />
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<br />renabeenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02586709240686639995noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8420764263258485990.post-19455850573756375512015-05-28T09:09:00.005-07:002015-05-28T09:22:45.509-07:00what casper's first month has taught me about my self-loveBecoming a mom has exceeded my expectations for both the good and the bad. I remember nearing the end of my pregnancy and having moms caution me to <i>"enjoy it now while you still can"</i> and I <i>really</i> didn't get it. Isn't having a baby the greatest joy of life? Yes, I know it's hard but doesn't the bliss make up for the challenges? After 9 months of pregnancy I came to accept it and was prepared for a good challenge anyways. I typically would tune out these <i>enlightening</i> voices that would heed me warnings about how I'll never sleep again or watch a movie again or eat again.<br />
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Obviously every mom's experience is going to be so unique (and that's part of what makes this whole thing so difficult too). Along with warnings of the challenges of momming, many women also warned me about labor. I found my experience to be really different than they made it out to be - in the best way! So it's possible, then, that lots of moms really do find it a fun and adventurous challenge when their baby finally comes along. If, in the past month, you've asked me how everything is going, you've likely received my go-to answer which is that being a mom is 100x harder and more challenging than I could have ever prepared for and that, if it could somehow ease the difficulty, I would go through labor again a few more times. This is a far cry from what I expected myself to be saying during my first four weeks with Casper: sentiments like "I am totally blissed out and love being a mom" and "I love him so much I cry about it every day." Oh, yes, I am crying. But not always happy tears and because I'm bursting with love. Much more often, tears of desperation and because my hormones are bouncing from one extreme to the next.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0K5C5pj4fFLEDf3PdKM7wPFtPOcP-FbqDuBam0evif041HlSoYvQlpEv4gHO32BfW4xEEbkjTj2YMVSN9pYXLIScUyHo1ZXHLhmIb_XXVSLBuvyyG4KWmGHzgGf8ROPECXFPY6Hgddlop/s1600/Web-8492.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0K5C5pj4fFLEDf3PdKM7wPFtPOcP-FbqDuBam0evif041HlSoYvQlpEv4gHO32BfW4xEEbkjTj2YMVSN9pYXLIScUyHo1ZXHLhmIb_XXVSLBuvyyG4KWmGHzgGf8ROPECXFPY6Hgddlop/s400/Web-8492.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Danaea Li photo</td></tr>
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<br />
Typically, the feedback I receive is in reference to the lack of sleep many moms experience in the first few months: <i>"Oh yeah, it's so exhausting -- make sure you sleep when the baby sleeps!" </i>But for me, my struggle has less to do with the lack of sleep and more to do with the sinking feeling of losing my freedom. Nothing in this world could have possibly prepared me for how a baby would make me realize how incredibly tight I hold on to, and nurture, my love of myself. No one could have convinced me, before having Casper, the extent of which I love to love myself. If I haven't learned anything else this past month, I have certainly learned how selfish I am.<br />
<br />
When Casper is working "according to my schedule" - i.e. when he goes for a nap and stays like that for 3 hours so I can shower, or wash the dishes, or write a blog entry, or when I take him out and he's peaceful and I can contentedly stare at the sun or catch up with a friend over coffee - when those things work out, I am like <i>"hell yeah, I love my angel baby!"</i> But when Casper interferes with my time and my "plans" and I can't figure him out - i.e. when he stays awake from 3 until 10 no matter how hard we try to coax him to sleep and I can't even sit down and eat a proper dinner with Lucas for an entire month - it really feels like Casper is "inconveniencing" me. I know that sounds bad. And it is. He is just a simple baby with simple needs: food, boob, me, and sleep. It doesn't feel good to admit that I sometimes look upon him like he is interrupting my world. He did nothing to deserve that emotion be felt towards him.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDDkpB4wD7BCSz2XahwBbBJ2jZob9XBbqlHa6ggqiWCTZZLMm0uCKPhiF2MqvKfAK_0DqwVIizklBpT7MU3JNIOX0PdWAhEzMVjCed9jS5i_JBcqCPOT6xNmYkSdF5sVC5Cm8foL8NqISj/s1600/Web-8547.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDDkpB4wD7BCSz2XahwBbBJ2jZob9XBbqlHa6ggqiWCTZZLMm0uCKPhiF2MqvKfAK_0DqwVIizklBpT7MU3JNIOX0PdWAhEzMVjCed9jS5i_JBcqCPOT6xNmYkSdF5sVC5Cm8foL8NqISj/s400/Web-8547.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Danaea Li photo</td></tr>
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So needless to say, I've had to have a major shift in my mindset. Everyday I pray for grace and pray that I may <i>cheerfully</i> view my day as a Casper-day where my needs may get fit-in somewhere instead of a me-day where Casper's needs get fit-in somewhere that works. I resurrect the simple, yet powerful, statement I heard everyday as a camp counsellor from our camp director, Greg: <i>"Be Amazing Today!"</i> Greg encouraged us staff that when we are sick or exhausted or have a bed-wetter or family drama or camp relationship drama (ha!), that it all takes a back-seat in lieu of the one magical week our campers are there to experience. His urge to us was that our physical and emotional needs as camp counsellors were to get put to the side every hour of every day so that we could give 100% Amazing to our kids. I never thought about how much that would return as the same attitude I need to have as a mom.<br />
<br />
Today, on Caspers one-month birthday, I am so grateful. Not grateful for a perfect text-book child who runs like clock-work. Because that ain't Casper. But grateful for how my little peanut has opened my world up; for how he's taught me about this massive weakness I carry around. I always had it in me but never the opportunity to come face-to-face with it in such a real way. I'm grateful, as well, for the forgiveness I receive when I am unable to look at the task with cheerfulness in my heart. He still wants to come to me when he cries and smiles at me when I sing to him or talk to him. He is God's grace on my unworthy attitude and for that, I am eternally and altogether grateful.renabeenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02586709240686639995noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8420764263258485990.post-2699720351286334692015-05-05T22:41:00.001-07:002015-05-07T13:54:39.291-07:00casper david's debut<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Throughout my pregnancy, and especially in the last few months, I was eager and interested to hear birth stories. I don't just mean the ones taken from <a href="http://www.chapters.indigo.ca/en-ca/books/ina-mays-guide-to-childbirth/9780553381153-item.html">Ina May's Guide to Childbirth</a> of women <a href="http://birthwithoutfearblog.com/">birthing without fear</a>; I mean all birth stories. The "scary" ones didn't really scare me the way that some people warned me they would. I think there is something so beautiful about how every person's story of how they arrived here is so different and so unique and I love listening to mothers re-live the day they met their precious babies. This past week, our first week with Casper, has been such a whirlwind and I want to make sure I remember details from the day he finally greeted us so I thought I would share in a post on a blog that doesn't really get much use anymore. It's a story of learning patience and grace and gratefulness for my body and it's one I am so encouraged by - I hope you are too. Here is my birth story for Casper David Lawrence, born Tuesday, April 28th, 2015. It's a long one cause it was a long process - you've been warned.<br />
<br />
<b>Saturday, April 25th, daytime:</b><br />
<br />
This was a particularly difficult day for me to be overdue with Casper. It was a beautiful day outside but I was sore and tired and just needed space to mope so I wasn't enjoying it. At 10 days past my due date, there were no signs of distress in either me or Casper -- fluid levels were great, the non-stress tests showed Casper's heart activity was as it should be, and I rarely went an hour without feeling him moving and kicking away which was constant reassurance that he was still happy in there. I didn't have a great reason to be upset. But at my 41 week appointment, my cervix was still high, posterior, and closed. Additionally, at the amniotic fluid checkup I had two days later, the tech made a remark about how the baby didn't even slightly drop yet, which she claimed normally happens around 38 weeks. With each passing day with no signs, my hopes that my body was going to naturally go into labor were dwindling. I felt pulled between the wisdom from childbirth pioneers like Ina May to trust my baby and my body, and the practical advice from others that I should consider being induced for fear that my placenta will essentially shut down and stop nurturing the baby. It wasn't that I was <i>so </i>tired of being pregnant -- but more the idea of having to make this important decision <strike>once</strike> if I made it to the 42 week mark. Do I wait or do I induce? I certainly didn't want to put my baby at risk but I also wanted to heed the wisdom that my body will do what it needs to when the time is right. I started to feel some very mildly painful tightenings that day and spent a large part of my afternoon on the patio with my journal just asking God to bring me peace about not knowing, to forgive me for not trusting, and to help me, in these times of confusion and frustration, to continue to trust in his goodness. After all, all I truly wanted was for my baby to be safe and in my arms. That's the perfect ending to any birth story and one that dimmed the importance of the means to how we were to get there.<br />
<br />
<b>Saturday, evening:</b><br />
<br />
Lucas and I decided to take in the final Canucks vs. Flames playoff game. We went to the nearby pub, Hyde, since we don't have cable. When we got there I went to the bathroom and to my surprise, I lost <a href="http://www.whattoexpect.com/pregnancy/symptoms-and-solutions/mucous-plug.aspx">my show</a> (click with caution - it ain't sexy), which gave me great excitement and so much hope! It didn't mean that I was in labor but it was a sign that things were moving -- and it was God's nudge to me that I needed to give up my illusion of control. I came out of the bathroom and, with tears welling in my eyes and a huge smile, I whispered to Lucas as discretely as I could the update. Because we took the <a href="http://www.childbearing.org/">prenatal course</a> together (best thing we did!), he too knew that this could mean things were in motion. Once the Canucks pulled their goalie and the Flames scored on an empty net, I was over the game and wanted to go home especially now that I knew I might really need the rest.<br />
<br />
<b>Sunday, April 26th:</b><br />
<br />
In the morning when we woke up, the mild contractions I was experiencing Saturday started to get a little more intense and a little more frequent. Still, we decided to go to church and go on with our day, running a few errands and spending time playing scrabble and making food with my mom who is visiting from the East Coast. Meanwhile, I was still experiencing the mellow tightenings and beginning to need to breathe through them a little more thoughtfully. I didn't want to get too excited so, at the time, I didn't admit that I was in early labor but looking back, I totally was. By dinner, the contractions had really slowed down, almost completely stopping altogether. I thought to myself "must have been false labor" but by bed time, they were in full force, and I was only sleeping between them waking every 8-12 minutes to breathe through these powerful tightenings. Labor really rarely is not how it is in the movies! Lucas would occasionally wake up from my achings and ask me if I needed anything. I didn't. I just was excited this was moving along. I told him to text his boss that he wouldn't be able to come to work on Monday.<br />
<br />
<b>Monday, April 27th, daytime:</b><br />
<br />
This day was similar to Sunday just with slightly more intense contractions and things picking up a bit more. By mid-day, it was more difficult to continue conversations or walk through them. We decided to go for a late-afternoon stroll down in Olympic Village. Lucas packed some snacks and we walked around -- me stopping every few minutes to ride out the contraction. It was funny to be in labor in public but I didn't care. It was fun. In between contractions we entertained light conversation and joking around and thanking God. Things had been remaining the same for about 4 hours so I called Renee from <a href="http://acumamas.com/">Acumamas</a> to see if I should get her to come over for a home visit to give me some points to get things moving. Her advice surprised me: she advised us to go home, have a bath and a small glass of wine and pop some Tylenol to try and slow things down to get some rest. Her suspicion and gut feeling was that labor was going to go full speed ahead by the time it started to get darker outside (apparently that's a thing?!). I was hesitant for fear of disrupting the process, but trusted her advice. I came home and spent 45 minutes in the tub to get contractions 15 minutes apart and Lucas and I laid down in bed, me with the TENS machine attached to my back, and slept between contractions for about 2 hours.<br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>Monday, 8pm:</b><br />
<br />
When we woke up, we decided to get things moving doing all the things they say-- lunges, stairs, sex (like you needed to know that), and an interesting series of poses called the Miles Circuit which is great to get the baby in the correct position. By the time we were done, I was undeniably in labor! My contractions were becoming more intense and closer together.<br />
<br />
<b>Monday, 9:30:</b><br />
<br />
Lucas made a snack -- my favorite munchies like crackers and cheese and cut up apple and carrots and hummus. We watched some of episode 2 of Netflix's Chefs Table and Lucas was in charge of pausing it when I was having a contraction - I was at the point where I couldn't handle the stimulation! In between them, I was as happy and chatty as ever. I definitely was noticing the waves of contractions and how they intensified and then mellowed out -- they would get more intense for about 3-5 contractions and then taper off in intensity as my body was responding to the pain with its built-in endorphins. The body is such an amazing thing. Lucas kept asking how I was doing, and I kept responding with, "you can handle anything for one minute" which was wisdom I reaped from many Bar Method classes (and also Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt who says you can do anything for 10 seconds... ha!). No matter how intense a contraction was, after it was over, it was the best feeling ever. And even during the contraction, it was only truly unbearable right in the middle as it was peaking which was maybe all of 15 seconds of it.<br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>Monday, 11pm:</b><br />
<br />
I could no longer watch Netflix and was trying to stay active and moving around at this point. Anything sitting or lying down was horrible. Lucas suggested we call the doula as he was running out of tricks for me.<br />
<br />
<b>Monday, 11:30pm:</b><br />
<br />
Marie, the doula, came over and it was a game-changer! Throughout each contraction, she continued to apply pressure on my low back/tailbone area, she set up a great little seating position on the birthing ball with my upper body drooping over a huge stack of pillows on a chair, and started getting me to breathe lower into my abdomen with low-toned noises. I had hoped I wouldn't sound like a cow mooing during labor, but that's exactly what I sounded like and it totally helped and I totally did not care. Lucas went to rest for a few hours as Marie helped me through the new stage of labor. She massaged my whole body and in that few hours, I was so grateful we decided to hire an RMT Doula. What a massive blessing! Lucas says that before Marie arrived, it sounded like I was <i>enduring</i> the contractions, and after he woke up from his nap, that I was <i>conquering</i> them.<br />
<br />
<b>Tuesday, April 28th, 2:45am:</b><br />
<br />
Marie had been writing down my contraction times and durations, and we finally decided to call Cora, the midwife. The time had come. I reported to Cora (my actual hero) all about the past few hours and she said she would be over in a bit. I woke up Lucas to tell him the midwife was on her way. When she arrived, she observed me through a few contractions, had a listen to the heart beat, and took my blood pressure. We decided to go into the bedroom so she could examine my cervix. I was nervous this would be a bad report - that my cervix would still be pretty closed. However, at this point in time, I really began to trust the process and whatever decisions my team would be helping me make. I was so relieved when she reported that if we wanted to make our way to the hospital we could -- I was 4-5 cm and, as she said, in the beginning of active labor. Marie geared us up for the ride by helping to make sure I would be comfortable in the truck. She sat in the back with me and kept applying pressure every time I would have a contraction. I only had to endure about 3 or 4 in the truck - thank goodness. It was horrible. Lucas dropped Marie and I off at the entrance and went to go park the truck. I was registering myself in at the desk as Cora tried to finagle us a room with a tub. I had told her earlier that I was interested in water birth although I hadn't fully decided that would be my route yet. I met my nurse, Alyssa, who lead us to, as I like to refer to it, the honeymoon suite of BC Women's & Children's. It was so big with a shower and a tub with both sides open. It was so beautiful. The nurses and staff kept commenting that I didn't seem like I was in labor due to my calm and chatty disposition. It made me feel powerful and at peace.<br />
<br />
<b>Tuesday, 4am:</b><br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGoy61H5zOhVZ7otV9YJDPTuOQgELc3TLpjTmG5wQsq9GWWt_8gEyKGsF6FB6p8xTlwOlzJTBwlb1MHTK1ADl2eW4Zlc-pj_091x6K_vVYhETX4wnuN05JfQcbF4fnIBP8MCi7GH30K1M0/s1600/w+charlotte.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGoy61H5zOhVZ7otV9YJDPTuOQgELc3TLpjTmG5wQsq9GWWt_8gEyKGsF6FB6p8xTlwOlzJTBwlb1MHTK1ADl2eW4Zlc-pj_091x6K_vVYhETX4wnuN05JfQcbF4fnIBP8MCi7GH30K1M0/s1600/w+charlotte.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">my mom helping me through my transition</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
We filled up the tub and I got in it to labor for a bit as Lucas put on the new Sufjan Stevens album and the the doula dimmed the lighting in the room -- it was honestly so peaceful. The team just kind of sat around and let me do my thing and Cora even took a lunch break. I had a little massage spikey ball which I would squeeze between my palms during contractions. Lucas also sat beside the tub and I squeezed his hand lots. The warm water slowed things down so by the time the water had gotten cold I got out and we decided to do some walking around the unit to pick up the pace. Alyssa gave us the grand tour -- probably her attempt to distract me. It was around this time my mom showed up and I was so happy to see her! It wasn't a part of the "plan" to have her there for the labor but it just worked. Marie showed my mom how to apply back pressure to me so she was able to help me through a few contractions. It was such an experience to have my mom there since she's never experienced labor herself. Around the same time mom showed up, I decided to do something wonderful -- happy gas! During contractions, I would just inhale and exhale. They warned me that some people feel dizzy or nauseated from the gas, but I felt neither. The small trance it put me into, along with Marie and my mom's pressure applied to my low back, made my transition so smooth and manageable. It was exactly what I needed. At this point, Lights acoustic album was playing.<br />
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<br />
<b>Tuesday, 6am:</b><br />
<br />
After a particularly difficult contraction, I asked Cora at what point do we know when it's time to push and she responded that she would examine my cervix in about an hour to see where I am at. I had one more contraction, and knew in my heart that an hour was too far away -- I asked if it would be possible to check now. Lucas, my mom, and Marie all left the room. I continued to inhale the happy gas as Cora examined my cervix and I was vaguely listening to her and Alyssa nonchalantly chatting about my cervix and the progress of the baby's descent. She reported to me that my cervix was gone -- it was time to push. As I reached for the gas, Alyssa pulled it from my hand and broke the terrible news to me that I wasn't allowed any more gas. It was go time.<br />
<br />
<b>Tuesday, 6:30am:</b><br />
<br />
Lucas came back in and mom and Marie stayed outside. I only wanted a few people there for the pushing. I changed into my nighty I brought so I could push without having everything exposed and in the open. Lucas and I were hugging and I was crying and telling him that I was afraid. I was! I had no conception of getting this far and hadn't really gone there in my mind yet. I tried the <a href="http://www.birthingnaturally.net/cn/tool/squatbar.html">squat bar </a>on the bed for a little while and I remember my first contraction when I was instructed to push, I had no idea what I was doing! My pushes were so weak and I didn't know how to bear down yet. Being as I'm a pretty private person, I wasn't really feeling the squat bar as I felt too exposed. Yes -- things like that actually crossed my mind at this point! Ha! They told me to try the toilet (ok TMI for some people but it's apparently a great place for many women in labor as the feelings can be... similar to what you normally do on there. You get the idea.) It was here that my water finally broke (hooray! And no mess to clean up!) but I didn't like being on the toilet either. I knew I wouldn't be delivering the baby there and I wanted to get comfortable wherever I would be finally pushing out the baby. I also felt <a href="http://www.pregnancy.org/article/what-expect-when-babys-crowning">the ring of fire</a> here and remembered a few times hearing that water birth can really help ease the burning sensation on your perineum. I told the team that I wanted to do a water birth. Lucas was instructed to run the water and I headed back into the tub.<br />
<br />
<b>Tuesday, 7am:</b><br />
<br />
I was in the tub alone for a bit pushing kind of on all fours when Cora asked me if I still wanted Lucas to come into the tub with me. I forgot I had even mentioned it to her. I looked at him and saw the pure terror in his eyes at the idea but I knew that with him, I would be so much stronger. I knew also that this is a once in a lifetime opportunity for both of us to experience something so insane <i>together</i>. I said yes and he put on a brave face along with his swim shorts. We sat with him behind me, my back to his chest, and I pulled against every push on the backs of his thighs -- it really felt like we were doing it together and I praise him now for his tremendous effort even though he<br />
wasn't <i>really</i> doing all that much. It was here that I began to truly doubt my body -- can I do this? Can this baby actually come through me? During contractions, I needed the constant cheering of the midwife to really motivate me to use all my strength to push. And as I recovered between contractions, the nurse, who was a new one at this point named Cara, my midwife, and Lucas just kept telling me what a phenomenal job I was doing. It was gold to my ears. It was everything I needed to hear and more. I trusted and ate up every word Cora spoke at this point as she said "this is going to feel really intense and it's very normal -- everything is going beautifully and you're doing such an amazing job!" I started to trust in my body and in the circumstances. This is when my mind really left my body and I truly let my body take over. Nothing matters anymore -- not how ugly your push face is, not how your husband has never seen your lady parts like this before, not how loud you are. Casper's heart rate was being continually monitored and stayed at at steady 140bpm the entire time. The nurse kept saying "your baby is doing so well and is so happy!" Cora asked me to reach down and touch the baby's head as I pushed so that I could sense the feedback of him slowly poking out with each push and then sucking back in after. It was weird for me! I can't say I loved it but it did make me smile when she told me Casper had hair and I could feel it. I made a joke that his fuzzy head will make up for his dad's receding hairline.<br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>Tuesday, 8am:</b><br />
<br />
I was started to feel impatient -- I wanted to know the baby was crowning or something so I could feel close to the end but I was afraid it might still be far away. Because the length of time between contractions was getting longer, Cora asked Lucas to do <a href="http://www.birthingnaturally.net/cn/technique/nipple.html">nipple stimulation</a> on me and he agreed to it. It sounds weird but it really helped move things along! I could feel my perineum moving outwards as the baby descended. Cora told me that because my perineum was particularly strong and thick, that it wasn't stretching as easily as it normally would be. I actually <i>requested</i> an episiotomy (I was in a hurry to meet him at this point!) and luckily, my midwife knew that I did not truly want one and kind of deflected my request. She said that the baby coming down and then back up was helping with the stretching and that it would be fine. I knew that meant I was <i>probably</i> going to tear, and just hopefully it wouldn't be too bad. With Casper's head crowning, holding on to the backs of my own legs now, I exclaimed "I don't think I can do this" and they kept reassuring me I could and I would. Lucas even had the nerve to say "this is the only way" which I didn't want to think -- I wanted to think there could have been some way out. But I knew he was right. I could hardly wait for the next contraction to push my baby out so I wouldn't have this burning feeling any longer and I could finally hold my son!<br />
<br />
<b>Tuesday, 8:28am:</b><br />
<br />
With the next contraction, I pushed out Casper's head and with one final breath and push at the very tail end of it, his body. The feeling of the baby coming out is so incredible -- he almost shot out like a cannon.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiElM3rgafqx6Wkw3JBkUcau56YLrM4T1gC70Os_bZNjVfS4Gva3qILHP3lA0TBmiRowbjz5a0gmywnnzud0GeDgoRlqiY0K2ub1YK7hAW4R6eSG1UWEcPpTcCq6BEZMcHHzPGHQKuxnQPY/s1600/3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiElM3rgafqx6Wkw3JBkUcau56YLrM4T1gC70Os_bZNjVfS4Gva3qILHP3lA0TBmiRowbjz5a0gmywnnzud0GeDgoRlqiY0K2ub1YK7hAW4R6eSG1UWEcPpTcCq6BEZMcHHzPGHQKuxnQPY/s1600/3.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">the face of pure relief</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Cora lifted Caspers slippery little body out of the water as Lucas and I scootched ourselves upright in the tub as she placed him on my chest. He was plush and soft and lovely and, as he cried and coughed up water, I couldn't do anything but stroke and kiss Casper and thank God in complete awe and wonder. He cried for about 15 seconds and then looked up at Lucas and I as if to question if we were the ones he was looking for. Everything was right.<br />
<br />
My birth experience with Casper ended up being beyond my expectation and imagination. I can say with whole-hearted honesty, that it was not painful the way I thought it would be. It was purposeful and powerful and, yes, it was intense, but it was intense in such a different way than, for example, the way peeing is now intense (ouch! Yes I tore in two places as suspected). It was supernatural really. I can truly say I've never looked at my body with such respect, love, and appreciation. A big part of my story was learning to trust -- trust myself, my gut feelings, my body, and God. <br />
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Even though it was slow to respond and kept me guessing, my body did pull through in the end. And I had the longest early labor ever but I credit that to how well I was able to cope with the pain near the end. I am so beyond blessed for my story of how Casper got here. Our birth stories are uniquely ours, and they are so special. <br />
<br />
I hope you share this story with anyone who has gone a week or more passed their due date and feels discouraged. A story like this one on that Saturday morning would have gone a long way in making me feel confident and assured so I hope it gives someone else a similar sense of positivity!<br />
<br />
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renabeenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02586709240686639995noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8420764263258485990.post-53140786843034929362014-04-16T22:30:00.002-07:002014-04-16T22:49:59.485-07:00winningsomething bizarre happened the other day; something that had me stop dead in my obnoxious, unnecessarily busy tracks. i'd like to share.<br />
<br />
lucas and i moved apartments two days ago. we worked a full and normal monday day, came home, boxed a few last things, and headed a few km's northeast for our new, 13th and main street vancouver, home. the night of the unloading, after all of our <strike>friends</strike> minions left, we only had enough steam to unfold a few blankets, set up our bed in some manner, and fall asleep. so the next morning, naturally, we woke up to a massive <i>pile </i>of what use to be, and hopefully will be again, our "life" sitting somewhere between the bathroom, hallway, kitchen and livingroom. lucas volunteered to go to, what will now be, our neighborhood cafe, <a href="http://www.49thparallelroasters.com/">49th parallel</a>, to get us some tea and coffee.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH2CSuEq1DebFUf3a4puTuLZEA207_DzgZz9omkA1xjqxiqL2z7V7ALv1IQQi5cl0IgmJIO1Cv83Wfwif6hCoWWLKFMOecjEAKbexM3RyZ3CwZ9qMq6-ANeeGjDAjb2I3eU9GpfCWJkq0o/s1600/ad4e7cde3c590d132137d718f2846623.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH2CSuEq1DebFUf3a4puTuLZEA207_DzgZz9omkA1xjqxiqL2z7V7ALv1IQQi5cl0IgmJIO1Cv83Wfwif6hCoWWLKFMOecjEAKbexM3RyZ3CwZ9qMq6-ANeeGjDAjb2I3eU9GpfCWJkq0o/s1600/ad4e7cde3c590d132137d718f2846623.jpg" height="320" width="213" /></a>as we are heading out, i'm doing my usual routine of running around turning off what seems like every light in the apartment (of course, while still managing to give lucas the <i>why don't you ever turn the lights off?</i> glares). i close the door and start to lock the bolt in with our new key.<br />
<br />
<i>did i turn off my flat iron?</i> yes, but i should unplug it.<br />
[i run into the bedroom to unplug it. lucas is just ignoring me somewhere in the hallway i think.]<br />
<br />
again, i go to leave, this time completely locking the bolt, walking a few steps down the hall and immediately stopping and turning around.<br />
<br />
<i>i need to check everything.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
i have to give a side-bar note here: i am not the kind of person that weirdly obsesses about forgetting to do things after i leave the house and stresses about it all day until i find out it's okay. yes, i check things over and am cautious, but what i did next was out of character for me.<br />
<br />
i unlocked the bolt of our door and headed straight for the stove in our new kitchen. we hadn't used the stove, but something felt <i>off</i>.<br />
atop the stove sits a roll of papertowel and a pile of reusable grocery bags that lucas must have thrown there just before to make room for something. i quickly remove everything from the top of the stove to check that the burners are turned off and, to my complete disturbance, one of the back burner knobs had accidentally been turned on. as i leaned in to turn it off, i felt the intense and very real heat rising from the burner. i instantly got a pit in my stomach.<br />
<br />
as i <i>quadrupole </i>made sure everything else was okay, it struck me what <i>could</i> have just happened, but <i>didn't</i>.<br />
i suddenly felt like i won the lottery -- like i was just given something that i shouldn't have been given.<br />
in my mind, i just went from having one of the worst-days-of-my-life to having a typical moving day of unpacking a bunch of things <i>we own</i> into an apartment that <i>we rent</i>. i was so thankful that day for whatever illogical discernment god gave me to check that everything was okay.<br />
<br />
what i realized that day, as the reality sunk in of how close our lives came to being a bit more of a mess than we even could have imagined, is that we really don't realize how many times we win the lottery. this day, it happened to be obvious. we happened to be aware of what god had just kept us from. but we don't always know.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrGOeo_RnIFCvynelSikAx00GDAzdpqP7zAbe_f8CVZ9l4NQVWhEw3yrEKeN9neCcSaZ4LRDHZMTthyphenhyphen5cjtHHSkzyLTu9SMYHZ9V-rHRXrI6u8cg5ZCGy3Jke385EvWSINq6Zpqr5FyCTS/s1600/daef4620120cc714ca01ab25f2b9b04a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrGOeo_RnIFCvynelSikAx00GDAzdpqP7zAbe_f8CVZ9l4NQVWhEw3yrEKeN9neCcSaZ4LRDHZMTthyphenhyphen5cjtHHSkzyLTu9SMYHZ9V-rHRXrI6u8cg5ZCGy3Jke385EvWSINq6Zpqr5FyCTS/s1600/daef4620120cc714ca01ab25f2b9b04a.jpg" height="400" width="265" /></a>i often fail to recognize this hedge of protection around me. sometimes the hedge comes in the <i>nothingness -- </i>like stoplights, forgetting your phone, and stopping to get gas; and once in a while, it will be completely unrecognizable in face of adversity. what this incident made me realize is that we don't know when or how god is weaving an even bigger plan into the little list of ones we make every day (that, yes, do feel important so much of the time!)<br />
<br />
that day, amidst the chaos of the move, we got an email from a friend of ours whose wife just survived through a double mastectomy surgery the morning before:<br />
<br />
<div class="uc">
</div>
<i>"we felt such peace this morning on the way to the hospital
as god has truly shown us what it means to be joyful in all
circumstances. [she] has also been an amazing patient and Iâm so proud
of her. god is totally carrying her as she gives herself up to his
control."</i><br />
<br />
and here's where i realize that even if i hadn't gone back to check the stove, that the control still isn't in my hands and nor should it be. i am so thankful for the people in my life who lead me by example of what it means to trust the process -- not complain about their circumstance, not try and pretend like everything is okay, and not blindly adopt the notion that god isn't specifically holding them in that moment just as he was holding me in the moment that our apartment building <i>didn't</i> burn down; just as he was holding our dear friend as she underwent that surgery.<br />
<br />
what it comes down to is knowing that ultimately, the lottery doesn't always look how we think it will look.<br />
<br />
most of the time, it's hard.<br />
<br />
it's hard to trust and know that my plans aren't always the best plans. but i take these reminders, and i hold on to them so tightly. i keep them in my pocket as best as i can just for those days and those moments to come that it won't feel like i'm winning the lottery.<br />
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i>renabeenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02586709240686639995noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8420764263258485990.post-45129457736075985282014-04-08T11:26:00.005-07:002014-04-08T16:41:58.119-07:00rediscovering the meaning i have to start somewhere.<br />
<br />
writing, to any degree and in any form, is like a muscle that, once it stops being used, it loses it's strength. it has the potential to get back into shape, but the hard part is moving when it feels so weak. you remember how rewarding it can be when it's being used all the time, but the vague memory doesn't inspire you enough to get through that awkward and uncertain period where you're unsure you'll ever feel as strong as you use to feel. so you just leave it, like an uncharted terrain. untapped. unopened. unused...<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8C6vy6RLeFAibDi5mmb8bDJaLptdP-euVPXBCxfB0mW4huveRKNLnTAdgdSQ-3cI1WMwdvz0WHRjX6X4_TtjVVqyTSzFDoikmi_O34Popo1kMYU6XUZWHtTDv10V2UX1Ltd9gSdlbV8DO/s1600/ae7e4bbbc128e130bbf5659ee9220fbd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8C6vy6RLeFAibDi5mmb8bDJaLptdP-euVPXBCxfB0mW4huveRKNLnTAdgdSQ-3cI1WMwdvz0WHRjX6X4_TtjVVqyTSzFDoikmi_O34Popo1kMYU6XUZWHtTDv10V2UX1Ltd9gSdlbV8DO/s1600/ae7e4bbbc128e130bbf5659ee9220fbd.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a>along the way -- somewhere between dropping out of school <strike>for two years</strike> indefinitely, falling in love, getting married, finding employment at one of my favorite operations in the city of vancouver (the bar method), and realizing that i don't want to be a teacher, i found myself with less meaning. not that my life stopped having meaning, but more that i simply seemed to have lost the attitude to see it. somewhere in the midst of "settling down" with a life-partner and semi-permanent job, i adopted the "day-in-day-out" attitude towards life rather than seeing the fun, never-ending awaiting adventure and potential all around me. that, indirectly, gave me this sense that i have <i>nothing to write about. </i><br />
<br />
and it feels strange to attribute my lack of creative juices, or my lack of proclivity to create, to things that are such blessings -- a consistent schedule, marriage, + a job i love. but when i reflect on a past entry, i remember that i am affectionately addicted to <i>newness</i>. in the midst of finding things that make me feel secure and fulfilled, i lost my ability to see the world as a colorful spectrum of feelings, ideas, and thoughts. because that's what blogging was for me -- my insights about the everyday. nothing revolutionizing but, to me, those humble observations were what made me understand; what made me feel alive.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzpdoWptredqGZA8dAeLcQd-0e8wgeO1TdOERENtCuecCVVn6910jegms8XzCPCerlH7fMSHftwUsOWTCuurVTfpiGfZpn1Mqvm5O3iXFWoGaAhTp8XKpdW_s930VgCLn8QyitA25K_SyG/s1600/dc6571ab63f5d36f35fff759da23e159.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzpdoWptredqGZA8dAeLcQd-0e8wgeO1TdOERENtCuecCVVn6910jegms8XzCPCerlH7fMSHftwUsOWTCuurVTfpiGfZpn1Mqvm5O3iXFWoGaAhTp8XKpdW_s930VgCLn8QyitA25K_SyG/s1600/dc6571ab63f5d36f35fff759da23e159.jpg" height="320" width="213" /></a>writing has been a therapist to me. it's just a symbol, or a manifestation, of what my heart already knows. when i let the words come out, and i see them and read them back to myself, i gain perspective and understanding. allowing others to take part in it with me (hence a public blog as opposed to a private journal), i feel like i walk with them in my acumen, and that's therapeutic to me as well.<br />
<br />
the best way for me to re-approach something that use to come as a second nature is to intentionally try and<i> find</i> the meaning, the beauty, and god, in those things that have become seemingly ordinary to my soul. it doesn't mean i have to lead a more full life with explosions, concerts, and confetti (although that does sound like a fun day), but just that i have to ask god, and allow him, to open my eyes to see things through that lens that gives me back my passion for the day.<br />
<br />
so i need to begin, again. i need to give myself permission to try. even if the results aren't groundbreaking at first, i desire to regain my muscle, not just to write, but more than that, to see life and others as more breath-taking and lovely than how they often appear at first glance.renabeenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02586709240686639995noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8420764263258485990.post-31759254055423206932012-08-29T14:29:00.002-07:002012-08-29T14:51:58.210-07:00jim collins<br />
<i>"What is it that you're passionate about?"</i><br />
<br />
As much as I love this question in theory, the reality of having it posed to me is nothing short of unnerving. Because when push comes to shove, I am not sure how to answer it. I feel like I'm suppose to have an answer and, if I'm honest, at this point I don't.<br />
<br />
This season is an altogether new one for me. For the past 6 years I've been an on-and-off-but-mostly-on student. A <i>student</i> is someone who pays a whole bunch of money, sometimes borrowed monies from the government, to become <i>educated</i>. By most of the world's standards, it's a luxury. But becoming educated is, when you think about it, a service to the individual - hence it's colossal price tag. Yes, we do have to work hard to remain enrolled, but others are working just as hard to run the system and provide you with something that you've paid for. It's like bar method classes: I spend [too much] money on my monthly membership to the bar method and they facilitate and help me develop in my fitness, but when I go, <i>I</i> ultimately am the one that has to put the work in to strengthen and tone.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRCQC4EWujBiqsLRyIx1rXB_cqzLZoHTnxzVOuOS2KsSA3FGmsyZ-F92OUbB0GHWBVlIJs0NK8D4X1szlm7S1gvhM9bM02v3_x8vnmEhEN8OwIl9032lXWiTodlWDW6B6leZt1mqm2TR1W/s1600/2814818487147811_3aZAGrjr_f.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRCQC4EWujBiqsLRyIx1rXB_cqzLZoHTnxzVOuOS2KsSA3FGmsyZ-F92OUbB0GHWBVlIJs0NK8D4X1szlm7S1gvhM9bM02v3_x8vnmEhEN8OwIl9032lXWiTodlWDW6B6leZt1mqm2TR1W/s400/2814818487147811_3aZAGrjr_f.jpg" width="400" /></a><br />
For the first time in <s>a long time</s> forever, I now am going to earn money. For two stinkin' years. This is a completely foreign concept to me. I mean I've had tons of jobs but they've always been part time, seasonal, and/or just way too much fun to really consider it working (i.e. camp). I am in this shift of mindset where I am not only accountable to myself but now I am reporting to others around me on a Monday to Friday, 9-5 basis.<br />
<br />
When you're a student you can leave your papers to the last minute. You can cram for your exams, skip classes, or show up to your classes in <i>body only</i> (guilty) leaving your mind somewhere far, far away. Ultimately, however, you alone pay the consequences for however you chose, and to whatever extent you chose, to be lazy. Almost everyone experiences this in their first year of University - you get out what you put in. And it's <i>you</i> that suffers the consequences of slacking off or being unprepared. In a job, it's nothing like this. Your lack of enthusiasm for your work, and any kind of slacking, regardless of what it is, will hurt others around you and/or the business that your name is attached to.<br />
<br />
I have a confession to make. This isn't easy but it's important that I tell you - I think I've spent the majority of my life cutting corners. I don't know when it started or how I became this way, but I think I'm good at it. If cutting corners was a sport, I would have the gold metal. I am good at finding short cuts and putting as little effort as possible to achieve results that are satisfactory. I think everyone likes this to a degree, but I think I've been way too good at it. I feel like much of my actual <i>success</i> in life, and anything I've achieved with flying colors, has happened as a result of being in the right place at the right time and God just being way too wonderful to me. I am beyond thankful for it, but it's left me a little confused about how the world, and particularly our industrialized society, really works.<br />
<br />
I had an interesting conversation with a co-worker one time.<br />
<br />
She's like, " ...one day I realized that winning people is good but that you won't make it in life, and you won't be sustained, if you know how to win people without putting in the hard work and being good at things too. You're a good people-person, and I am too. But sometimes... you have to actually do stuff you're good at, stuff you don't want to do, and work hard"<br />
<br />
Maybe I somehow brain-washed myself into thinking that the people-skills would carry me through. But she is right.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXnd_3FL8Gr1ZrbXggSmSrsTE8ZprE7EcqemB4_MhRq9C3IpebnEI9LLrs0x3KrQA2zMkWPuhDGzTvKuQE2Gg1KMhJpT40iT_V1KfJmiRzkyd6zLQhz7onY_0Yp-13MEHbYBPU4kUNlUl8/s1600/114841859218811240_fTRzDRwG_f.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="206" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXnd_3FL8Gr1ZrbXggSmSrsTE8ZprE7EcqemB4_MhRq9C3IpebnEI9LLrs0x3KrQA2zMkWPuhDGzTvKuQE2Gg1KMhJpT40iT_V1KfJmiRzkyd6zLQhz7onY_0Yp-13MEHbYBPU4kUNlUl8/s400/114841859218811240_fTRzDRwG_f.jpg" width="400" /></a>The things is, though, that I can't just do those things (working hard, and doing stuff you don't want to do, etc) for the sake of a pay check. And I also definitely can't do it out of fear of failing the people around me or my boss or just plain looking bad. Those two motivators are not really motivators at all. And if they prosper as primary motivators in the work place, the world will become filled with a bunch of ugly people who are unhappy and crappy. So how do I avoid becoming that person? How do I love what I do but also do it diligently, with effort, with care and consideration for myself and those around me, and remain sane in the process? I honestly don't think that any of those need to be compromised. After all, this is kinda it - we only have one shot.<br />
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What I've come to realize over the course of this hectic summer is that I need to be motivated to do what I do to keep my rent paid and food on the table. And the motivation needs to come from a pure and organic love for what I'm doing. Whether I am going to be saving lives or selling stretchy pants, I need to genuinely care about it. This isn't true for everyone but it certainly is true for me.<br />
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Do something you're good at and something you're going to be passionate about. Life is way too short to spend 40 hours of your time a week on anything less than that. It seems elementary and kind of over-generalized but this reality has been dawning on me like one of those eureka!'s that happen while I'm sleeping. It's simple but important. It's going to determine if you're living or just killing time. <br />
<br />renabeenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02586709240686639995noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8420764263258485990.post-47544448015877739322012-07-15T13:36:00.003-07:002012-07-15T14:09:25.193-07:00noiseI can sleep through snoring.<br />
Not only can I sleep through snoring but I can fall asleep to snoring. I might even go as far as saying that it actually <i>puts</i> me to sleep.<br />
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I don't really know what it is but it seems like any kind of steadiness can make even the harshest sounds or images transient and peaceful. In the same way, I think that even the most thrilling or exciting things can potentially become dull in the perception of them. If you go to a hockey game where it seems like the puck is just kind of hanging around the middle of the ice for a while and then all of a sudden there's a crazy breakaway, you'll pay attention no matter what it was that you were playing on your phone before. All of a sudden, the crowds stand up and there is this sense of excitement in the anticipation of what's happening.<br />
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I love that.<br />
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I'm such a sucker for things that pop like a pop of color in an otherwise bleakly hued room, or a stream of rays through a break in the clouds, or a moment in a song where there's only voices. Sometimes those pops are so much more satisfying than a stream of greatness. Too much of a good thing can sometimes be numbing.<br />
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In a similar sense, I'm a sucker for newness. I love moving into a new room, getting new clothes or makeup (or toothbrushes... best), and new music in my iPod. But that extends into stuff that gets more serious - new friendships, churches, community, relationships, jobs, geographical location. The old gets, well... old. One of my greatest regrets of who I am is that thing in me that makes my perception of precious things bland because they are no longer new. I use to think it was boredom but I've recently decided it's not really boredom. I need to stop saying that. I'm not bored of my friends or my relationships or my jobs just because they are maybe less "new" than they were. I think it's just that they have such a steadiness to them that I fail to recognize their beauty. This is especially true when my initial impression of them was a heart-stopping, agenda-changing, do-a-180 (not a 360) kind of impression. I get so high and I thrive too much off of that highness rather than stopping and taking a hot minute to realize the beauty of what's around me.<br />
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It's not boredom - it's white noise. It's that I fail to remember the beauty that first found me so fond. I am, by nature, a person that thrives off of excitement. So I don't think that has to be a bad thing. It only becomes bad when I fail to remind myself how exciting it all really is and to bring myself back to that place that gave me those butterflies. I think it's a choice. It's a discipline.<br />
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White-noise doesn't have to have such a negative connotation in my life. White-noise can mean that I am at peace. If I chose to view it well, I can pick away at the new things that come into my life amidst a backdrop of artistry and a sustained surrounding of matured and aged blessings. It's a choice of reminding.<br />
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Talking today at church about having ears to hear, I realized that for me, it's a matter of tuning in. It's the difference between looking for the new as a way of replacing the awesome that's before me, instead of appreciating the new as it comes while finding that contentment is really about taking note of the environment. The noise is there, and you can hear it, but you might just not really be listening that closely. I've been finding that when I do, I don't need to find new and that I can recognize it as novelty. I think it's possible to have both a sense of novelty in my life while embracing a continual and sustained experience of peace that goes beyond the mountain-top-experiences.<br />
<br />renabeenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02586709240686639995noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8420764263258485990.post-82458043652042761012012-06-18T09:17:00.004-07:002012-06-18T09:59:42.723-07:00steadfastnessMoments of thoughtfulness always seem to allude back to a poem I wrote a few years ago. It's not super typical of me to write poetry but this one time I had so much in my fragile heart, and it just came out in the form of a poem. It's a little fascinating how much weight it still seems to carry in the thesis weaved in and throughout my incredibly average 20-some-year-old life.<br />
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<i>i come and then i go<br />in and out of phases<br />in and out of stages<br />of plays and and circus cages<br />one time to be loved<br />and sometimes just paraded</i><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs-08FtIjvvXkEXqJnsUymfSexssZx3QrksMhBGWnDahQlO8R2H7hQbQ6sFS9GGDiZzg6NOQp0qmeobbOD6mGb7Au42ISo0klLTPD9Cxi_AsWSJRJ2TEDuFIeVy-QKCieQRKyHCpUZPNpF/s1600/253896_615967016724_172302439_34475420_6661863_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs-08FtIjvvXkEXqJnsUymfSexssZx3QrksMhBGWnDahQlO8R2H7hQbQ6sFS9GGDiZzg6NOQp0qmeobbOD6mGb7Au42ISo0klLTPD9Cxi_AsWSJRJ2TEDuFIeVy-QKCieQRKyHCpUZPNpF/s400/253896_615967016724_172302439_34475420_6661863_n.jpg" width="400" /></a>It's that word, "phases." Is it normal to look back upon the past four years of your life and see about a dozen different people? Each person has different goals, different values, different style, different passions. I would even go so far as to say different way of talking, walking, or laughing. A friend of mine named Kevin introduced the word "steadfastness" into my life a few months ago when I met him. It's not like I had never heard the word or wasn't familiar with what it meant. But he used it on such a personal level. He talked about steadfastness in reference to how our relationship to God should look based on his ideal example -- his love is steadfast so we should be steadfast in our obedience to his will. His love doesn't shift and is entirely independent from anything else. His love, and his mercy, are<i> catalysts. </i><br />
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<div style="text-align: right;">
<b>(cat¡a¡lystâ â[kat-l-ist] </b></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<b>noun1.Chemistry . a substance that causes or accelerates a </b><a href="http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/chemical+reaction"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><b>chemical reaction</b></span></a><b> without itself being affected.2.something that causes activity between two or more persons or forces without itself being affected.)</b></div>
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My quest for steadfastness is not as steadfast as I wish it was. Sometimes I hardly acknowledge the fact that most of my young adult life is a series of chapters, each one with a completely different character. It shocks me to look at some of those characters because some feel so far removed from who I feel I am right now. </div>
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I'm not talking about change and growth and developing as a person. I'm all for it. I think there can be great steadfastness through that refining of character over time. People change. That's not what I'm referring to. My "phases" are embarrassingly a result of running back and forth between a passion for the approval of man and a passion for giving my heart over to that which is greater. <br />
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I think steadfastness happens in part with an awareness that one is much more worth pursuing than the other. I don't know how or why some people are better at it than others. I don't think it's easy for anyone. But some day-dreaming whimsical fanciful people like me have a harder time staying grounded. It's so easy to get caught up in fairy-tales and what-ifs and think-it-would-be-better-for-myself-and-others-if-I-was-more-XYZ's. <br />
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I wish I could say with full confidence, "it has been and continues to be the same thing that gets me out of bed every morning -- that which is steadfast and unceasing in love!"</div>
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But I think Funk hit the nail on the head yesterday when he reminded us that this will be a struggle - that the struggle isn't magically removed in some formulaic response to Jesus but that it will, perhaps, be a difficult battle that you face every day.<br />
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Knowing that is comfort in that I recognize no one is struggle-free. And differentiating between the temptation and the practice is probably an important first step.<br />
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Listen to the message that inspired me <a href="http://www.churchonthewestside.com/qry/page.taf?id=729">here</a> (sermon on Homosexuality). </div>renabeenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02586709240686639995noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8420764263258485990.post-42769113148011923412012-04-01T20:07:00.004-07:002012-04-01T21:24:43.223-07:00in a market dimly lit<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF2DzgurI3vX-Ce6qUfkxq2eCB-JoblSXMIdwq61uBtPpLntvfRzkA6FzpV_9R3sjwh5ia_0TDchZPf_qwRDHO2ET4PotCNaPIhKxQk8dIInqqmubDTeOmyZuURKmMTcN0QFag18kLiLOD/s1600/102386591498491279_RvxGn7VG_f.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 265px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF2DzgurI3vX-Ce6qUfkxq2eCB-JoblSXMIdwq61uBtPpLntvfRzkA6FzpV_9R3sjwh5ia_0TDchZPf_qwRDHO2ET4PotCNaPIhKxQk8dIInqqmubDTeOmyZuURKmMTcN0QFag18kLiLOD/s400/102386591498491279_RvxGn7VG_f.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5726643451772826306" /></a> I wrote a little song for you<br />with a melody I'd borrowed put to words that didn't rhyme<br />to repeat what you already knew<br />as the stones thrown at your window tapped in syncopation<br />you kept a distance out of fear you'd break<br />but what's good a single windchime, hanging quite all alone?<br />the music our collisions would make<br />is a sound that turns the road-that-leads-us-back-home<br />into Home.renabeenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02586709240686639995noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8420764263258485990.post-72238663303161381892012-03-20T14:04:00.003-07:002012-03-20T14:08:55.761-07:00affection simplified<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX8K1OzSpw2q37cAJZs0mphRxXRynAQYm5MeuitQe7lg6AwZ5mTLefaTLbjEV5sIWVdB1T2u7_xL6sntsxLyIkAEGuIgSAT_hbhv8PC_r6U0OKm4FvJiYXa5bKSZWWDVHn7W620ZqLM5nY/s1600/dsc00561.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 208px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX8K1OzSpw2q37cAJZs0mphRxXRynAQYm5MeuitQe7lg6AwZ5mTLefaTLbjEV5sIWVdB1T2u7_xL6sntsxLyIkAEGuIgSAT_hbhv8PC_r6U0OKm4FvJiYXa5bKSZWWDVHn7W620ZqLM5nY/s400/dsc00561.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5722088620289137490" /></a><br />Two boxes met upon the road<br />Said one into the other<br />If youâre a box<br />And Iâm a box<br />Then you must be my brother<br />Our sides are thin<br />Weâre cavinâ in<br />And we must get no thinner<br />And so two boxes hand in hand<br />Went home to have their dinner.renabeenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02586709240686639995noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8420764263258485990.post-62827689279119530732012-03-13T23:55:00.004-07:002012-03-14T00:05:37.046-07:00absolute truth<blockquote><span style="font-style:italic;">Some of the objection in the mind of the pluralist is that every claim to absolute truth must be, in the end, oppressive. Because if you claim to have the truth, then you will use that truth as power and coercion to dominate and oppress people. And it is certainly true that any community which claims to possess the absolute truth must inevitably, if it gains power, become oppressive. But the Christian claim is not such; although in the course of history it's been wrongly understood as such. <br /><br />{The church has screwed this thing up big time. there have been points in history where the church has used its position of power to oppress. But take this illustration: if you go to see a Junior High perform a Shakespeare play, please don't leave that place saying "Shakespeare is a hack... I'm never going to read any of his plays again." The problem wasn't with Shakespeare - it was with the people who represented him in the play. So just because the church has screwed this thing up numerous times throughout history, don't throw the story of God out with those who tried to live it out and made a mess of it.} <br /><br />The claim of the Christian community is that in Jesus the absolute truth has been made present, and that the relativity's of human cultures, and that the form which this truth took was not that of dominance and imperial power but that of one who is without power or rather whose power was manifest in weakness and suffering. The church, thus, does not proclaim to possess absolute truth - it claims to know where to point for guidance for the common search for truth. <br /><br />Jesus, as the truth, does not show up with power to oppress; he doesn't show up as an imperialistic ruler who conquers his enemies with power and force. He shows up as a suffering servant who doesn't use power to oppress but actually lays aside his power, is oppressed himself, dies for his enemies and prays for their forgiveness while he is dying. So the one who is absolute is humbled. He suffers and dies. He is one who is marked by grace, truth, mercy, and justice. </span></blockquote><br /><br /><br />- a sermon i heard todayrenabeenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02586709240686639995noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8420764263258485990.post-15036243047882080842012-03-11T22:46:00.010-07:002012-03-11T23:17:35.850-07:00a mistake<span style="font-weight:bold;">Adoption</span> is a beautiful thing.<br /><br />Think about it. <br /><br />For most of us, it's probably just another social norm... something that just happens and doesn't really affect our lives one way or the other. But for some, it's how they've<span style="font-weight:bold;"> survived</span>.<br /><br />Sometimes, some people are<span style="font-style:italic;"> cursed</span> with the <span style="font-style:italic;">dreaded fate </span>[sarcasm] of getting pregnant at a time in their life when they're completely unprepared to raise a child. I've never experienced that feeling. I can only <span style="font-weight:bold;">imagine</span> what it's like: one day you're going through life and everything is completely <span style="font-weight:bold;">normal</span>; the next, you realize you have a person...<span style="font-weight:bold;"> living</span> inside of you. <br /><br />There must be this overwhelming intense switch that goes off in a woman's mind when she realizes there is a human that is entirely dependent on her body to survive. Most of us are hardly responsible enough to take care of ourselves. <br /><br />But all of a sudden, you're not just you anymore. <br /><br />All of a sudden, you are bound physically to another person you don't even know yet. <br /><br />If you <span style="font-weight:bold;">do nothing</span> at all, there is a good chance a baby will come out of you in less than a year and you'll be a mom. For some, this is a <span style="font-weight:bold;">miracle</span>. And for others, it's a heart-dropping reality that makes them wish they could somehow switch back the clocks of time. <br /><br />On the completely opposite end of the spectrum, there are people who have been waiting in patient <span style="font-weight:bold;">anticipation</span> for this same moment almost their entire lives and never get to experience it. Some people, despite all their preparation and emotional investment, will one day learn that they'll never have that feeling. <br />& now we have two opposites that are equally horrible, <span style="font-weight:bold;">depending on context</span>: being pregnant, and knowing you'll never be pregnant.<br /><br />I've always been the "make lemonade out of lemons" person. I feel like I've always at least <span style="font-weight:bold;">believed</span> in the power and miracle to turn ugly into beautiful... ashes into diamonds. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx1yZQGw8M74JzuQqxKrQiTh7tMuWrL9WvSmIZAIGZ1hUGKVtRmsROItp8g37nDHaDtiOgYRnDh-Kxp1pv1pZMElPs_liE6rr5QJT-3YB0qD7qbfJULWNSIebO8DhQ_Joi9OefWJA6jrDF/s1600/Favim.com-18466.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 243px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx1yZQGw8M74JzuQqxKrQiTh7tMuWrL9WvSmIZAIGZ1hUGKVtRmsROItp8g37nDHaDtiOgYRnDh-Kxp1pv1pZMElPs_liE6rr5QJT-3YB0qD7qbfJULWNSIebO8DhQ_Joi9OefWJA6jrDF/s400/Favim.com-18466.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5718887323169431778" /></a> I'm not saying that it always will be but I believe in that potential and searching for it.<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;"> I believe in an overarching redemptive quality to life - in the small, day-to-day things and the massive, this-is-gunna-change-everything things. </span><br /><br />I think adoption is beautiful because out of this "mistake" can come a <span style="font-weight:bold;">new hope</span>. <br /><br />There is new hope for the parents who receive a gift that will unfold to make up for the days they were tortured to know they can't conceive. I'm not saying that having a child is more of a joy than not having a child, but to some people it is. How amazing that this <span style="font-weight:bold;">mistake</span> to one person is embraced as a <span style="font-weight:bold;">blessing </span>by the arms of someone else. <span style="font-style:italic;">People who are barren depend on mistakes.</span><br /><br />Even more, though, there is a new hope for the baby. Baby's are, by definition, completely dependent on the help of more capable humans to survive. They're inherently helpless on their own. If I had a baby in 9 months and just left it, excuse my bluntness, it would die. The only way that fate could be reversed is if someone else took on the <span style="font-weight:bold;">responsibility</span> and decided to care for it as their own child.<br /><br />When my mom found out she was pregnant with me, she cried.<br />They weren't tears of joy.<br />She called my dad, who responded with "Well Chaaalate (Boston accent), I guess I gotta marry ya do I?"<br />And the shotgun wedding took place in a nice little chapel only a few short days before I was born.<br /><br />That's an awkward start to a life. My existence was, like so many other people, unplanned. But my mom and dad bit the bullet and changed their perspective.<br />So it goes without saying, there's that option too. <br /><br />But there are some who just can't do it. <br />& I just love the way that dark situation is made light. <span style="font-style:italic;">It's not only restored to it's original state -- it's enhanced. It's made better.</span>renabeenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02586709240686639995noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8420764263258485990.post-46822793789378906832012-02-28T10:13:00.006-08:002012-02-28T10:23:58.661-08:00"God's not hand-tied"People know where to mine silver <br /> and how to refine gold. <br /> They know where to dig iron from the earth <br /> and how to smelt copper from rock. ...<br />People know how to tear apart flinty rocks <br /> and overturn the roots of mountains. <br /> They cut tunnels in the rocks <br /> and uncover precious stones. <br />They dam up the trickling streams <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqo6jCsjIkAsuIbijXq8oc0lOdRw58uVqjIGPH0nJtdb5Tsg9hdn21XTVqEC_jtxs6b078MZ1KVVFNQWNokZY4Q43fLMWnY4buAvW2KcZKhJTXkZdDovDAzUpN1M2LnC2tqR4ROHwDQ09V/s1600/154107618468658379_GbVQbm8Q_c.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqo6jCsjIkAsuIbijXq8oc0lOdRw58uVqjIGPH0nJtdb5Tsg9hdn21XTVqEC_jtxs6b078MZ1KVVFNQWNokZY4Q43fLMWnY4buAvW2KcZKhJTXkZdDovDAzUpN1M2LnC2tqR4ROHwDQ09V/s400/154107618468658379_GbVQbm8Q_c.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5714251908835471186" /></a><br /> and bring to light the hidden treasures.<br />But do people know where to find wisdom? <br /> Where can they find understanding? <br />No one knows where to find it, <br /> for it is not found among the living. <br />âIt is not here,â says the ocean. <br /> âNor is it here,â says the sea. <br /> It cannot be bought with gold. <br /> It cannot be purchased with silver. ...<br />God <span style="font-weight:bold;">alone</span> understands the way to wisdom; <br /> he knows where it can be found, <br />for he looks throughout the whole earth <br /> and sees everything under the heavens. <br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">He decided</span> how hard the winds should blow <br /> and how much rain should fall. <br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">He made </span>the laws for the rain <br /> and laid out a path for the lightning. <br />Then he saw wisdom and evaluated it. <br /> <span style="font-weight:bold;">He set it in place</span> and examined it thoroughly. <br />And this is what he says to all humanity: <br /> "The fear of the Lord is <span style="font-weight:bold;">true wisdom</span>; <br /> to forsake evil is <span style="font-weight:bold;">real understanding</span>."<br /><span style="font-style:italic;">Job 28:1-2, 9-15, 23-28</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">Sometimes I maybe just need to understand that I just might not ever.</span><br />Thank you, God, that your knowledge is infinite & mine is not. <br />Thank you that you're God, & not me.renabeenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02586709240686639995noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8420764263258485990.post-58886334738451499472012-02-25T15:18:00.002-08:002012-02-25T15:26:56.410-08:00advice taken.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSAH8rpGGxm06dykn5TTTvs1hUoFYVhqzZMW0qG0atUwVo1QmnClMN1n_nIS6ZOLxSezno5KJrzBObWfH3Ia29-alvKxJMEjYMwLenRJss4Mu8NPOQf0KIe8p-ngkf_jpsdPLne_X4nNoo/s1600/Picture+5.png"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSAH8rpGGxm06dykn5TTTvs1hUoFYVhqzZMW0qG0atUwVo1QmnClMN1n_nIS6ZOLxSezno5KJrzBObWfH3Ia29-alvKxJMEjYMwLenRJss4Mu8NPOQf0KIe8p-ngkf_jpsdPLne_X4nNoo/s400/Picture+5.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5713218711154447298" /></a><br />"Get RID of anything that's distracting you --<br />Cut it OFF like a woodsman cuts wood. <br />Dispose of it;<br />Burn it;<br />Don't look back."<br />- HLrenabeenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02586709240686639995noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8420764263258485990.post-67487568399786947932012-02-25T11:02:00.002-08:002012-02-25T11:08:43.676-08:00you-nique<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6gh2KE5KhhxvaZl-alM7d77csGzCFqbjv4titvnDYpX_yTpwljJu22fXTZqeCdjIj-0EHcQgO-j6N0MRsnVk1-DLRlGbIhnXd3SMsvL_t902t5E5hxpblIpIg2GIx0uHJZhWnBTR-01wu/s1600/34058540901826530_i2d5Lg7G_c.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6gh2KE5KhhxvaZl-alM7d77csGzCFqbjv4titvnDYpX_yTpwljJu22fXTZqeCdjIj-0EHcQgO-j6N0MRsnVk1-DLRlGbIhnXd3SMsvL_t902t5E5hxpblIpIg2GIx0uHJZhWnBTR-01wu/s400/34058540901826530_i2d5Lg7G_c.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5713152116994173346" /></a><br /><center><span style="font-style:italic;">At bottom every man knows well enough that he is a unique being, only once on this earth; and by no extraordinary chance will such a marvelously picturesque piece of diversity in unity as he is, ever be put together a second time. </span><br />Friedrich Nietzsche</center>renabeenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02586709240686639995noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8420764263258485990.post-33127848740253134172012-02-22T23:52:00.005-08:002012-02-23T00:31:39.185-08:00the artistIn one of his <a href="http://donmilleris.com/2012/02/08/starry-night/">recent blog posts</a>, Donald Miller's contributer, Anne Jackson, was talking about Starry Night by van Gogh. She talked about how that painting is a deep and real part of who van Gogh <span style="font-style:italic;">was</span> and how it was something <span style="font-style:italic;">in his heart</span> that made him paint his paintings:<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;"><blockquote>"Iâm fairly sure van Gogh didnât have any âwhat will people think?â thoughts running through his mind as he painted, either.<br />However, I do believe there is a purity and honesty in each of us that can be released when we set aside our expectations, our fears, and our desire to please others and simply paint whatever that unspeakable and great thing thatâs inside of us. The world will take notice. Not of us, but of the great Starry Night in us that will transcend them and inspire them into believing the truth about the goodness that is inside of them as well."</blockquote></span><br />This resonates with me in more than one way. <br /><br />On the surface, it articulates my love of writing as a form of expression regardless of who I believe will agree with me or like it or understand. <span style="font-style:italic;">I </span>understand. When <span style="font-style:italic;">I </span>read it over, I feel it's my heart in words. Sometimes when I don't have those words to articulate what is on my heart, I get anxious because I can still feel that <span style="font-style:italic;">great thing inside of me</span> (great not necessarily meaning awesome or agreeable but more just... big, and encompassing all of me). <br />Do you ever have a moment where you feel you just have so much more good in you that you could be actualizing but there is something that's in the way? That<span style="font-style:italic;"> thing</span> being selfishness, pride, greed, fear, jealousy... the kind of stuff that make us just average instead of Mother-Theresa-Awesome? <br />Well, which one is <span style="font-style:italic;">you</span>: the good in <span style="font-style:italic;">you</span> or the thing that's getting in the way? <br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrEeTpJCn9XGDpIY1-B7snSqLmSpkI57K520JNmKcdOxHK1EeQAmfcfO9fXj5KB7p5E2PAJFu5KjlKu_jfVW0IbUKT1LZj-is9CZfUEObKZI0D-pFdaZl3ohrZC90bOhfmR0uTlTKMTf-Q/s1600/the-starry-night-wallpapers_14829_2560x1600.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 250px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrEeTpJCn9XGDpIY1-B7snSqLmSpkI57K520JNmKcdOxHK1EeQAmfcfO9fXj5KB7p5E2PAJFu5KjlKu_jfVW0IbUKT1LZj-is9CZfUEObKZI0D-pFdaZl3ohrZC90bOhfmR0uTlTKMTf-Q/s400/the-starry-night-wallpapers_14829_2560x1600.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5712242665354728546" /></a><br />On a deeper level, through her parallel, I think Jackson wants us to feel like a <span style="font-style:italic;">creation </span>as well. Like if we're van Gogh's Starry Night, and God is van Gogh, then we were created out of a deep and lovely heart of a creator. Like there is something of Him written all over us or laced into our being. <br />Maybe that's that good thing we're all wishing we could express more. Maybe it's the same good thing that we're wishing we could just<span style="font-style:italic;"> be</span> more.renabeenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02586709240686639995noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8420764263258485990.post-6743701884955937752012-02-11T16:22:00.000-08:002012-02-11T20:49:20.754-08:00the King of HeartsIn lieu of Valentines Day being just around the corner, I thought I'd follow up from my post about the recent purges in my life. There's something else that has been, despite my objections, recently removed from my life: <span style="font-style:italic;">boys/romance/relationships</span>. <br /><br />The simplified version of my overall relationship with relationships is that<span style="font-weight:bold;"> it's ugly</span>. I was raised without a dad after the first five years of my life. As my sister likes to refer to it, I have "daddy issues." <br />That concept can manifest itself in so many different ways and can be a product of so many different types of depraved father situations. I use the word "depraved" loosely to mean absent father, irresponsible, immature, selfish, lost father... Some people are unaffected by getting dealt one of these hands. Some women, God bless them, are strong and independent and smart enough to have an honest and healthy view of love, romance, and relationships, despite not directly receiving an example of one growing up. Women that I've met have landed no where really in that healthy middle section of this spectrum: The one who guards her heart, mind, soul, and body, and puts on a tough exterior that no man can possibly "crack," so as to avoid disappointment, rejection, and hurt. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguYObU0LZ6TE2C3ZkJFzMRz3IEs1ab99eUplI76QSsZa2NnigzRIEk-RDvhR245KsjL4TUs0B0wDOJcNcvF1ItXwOe4ndg01bVy1jVxR1JM3OK3Dfh5xepcwzK1S000XdlkVVL3-I05qET/s1600/3177_543967474384_172302439_32753001_7272278_n.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguYObU0LZ6TE2C3ZkJFzMRz3IEs1ab99eUplI76QSsZa2NnigzRIEk-RDvhR245KsjL4TUs0B0wDOJcNcvF1ItXwOe4ndg01bVy1jVxR1JM3OK3Dfh5xepcwzK1S000XdlkVVL3-I05qET/s400/3177_543967474384_172302439_32753001_7272278_n.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5708062119408365538" /></a> That guardedness can take a lot of forms I think, but I think it's a kind of protection they put around themselves that can turn out to be detrimental in relationships because of a lack of trust and vulnerability where they're worthy; then the other end, the one who is longingly looking to fill a void that she has experienced without the love, discipline, protection, and guardianship only a dad can offer. That's the profile I fit into pretty well. Don't get me wrong -- my mom is a <span style="font-style:italic;">saint</span>. She has been the best mom-and-dad combo that I possibly could have ever asked for. I constantly look at her reflecting on my own life and wonder how I am ever going to love outside of myself in the way that she consistently has loved Lesley and I. But there is something inherently different about the way a mom loves her children, and the way a dad does. In the same way, there is something inherently different about the approval and love and affection of females and that of males. The way a man loves is different. I missed out on that.<br /><br />I do not want to put this on a pedestal as the be-all-end-all defining aspect of who I am. My father passing away 19 years ago makes me no less or no more <span style="font-weight:bold;">me</span> than I would have been otherwise. God has purposed all of this to his plan and for that, I am grateful. That is why I blog. Because if there is a slight chance someone feels understood through my experience, he delights in that. That is just a thing that has happened to me... a thread in my blanket... a part of my story.<br /><br />As a result of my manlessness, I have relentlessly tried to satisfy a deep longing with relationships. And relationship after relationship after relationship left me feeling more empty, tired, and lonely than I did before. I was missing something and I knew what it was... but I didn't want to give it enough of a chance because I was so sure that without the instant and tangible affirmations and love in a physical form, that it wouldn't fill my deepest needs. <br />I had no idea that God could because he's God. He's just so invisible... he's big and all universal and abstract. I can't hold his hand or be held in his arms when I'm sad or watch movies with him or have him give me advice. I can't watch him laugh at my jokes or be spoiled by his acts of service or have him surprise me randomly when I need it the most.... can I?<br />I had God in a box. I didn't understand that he can do all those things and fill all those needs plus much more... <span style="font-style:italic;">SO MUCH MORE. </span><br /><br />God <span style="font-style:italic;">is </span>everlasting, eternal, great, and incomprehensible. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5t2ypsyQ2QVQTRS9UR7dsYRaSPukseOufFH6lj42lDfoEdc7jAXdHDob9G5fQjr75UUP2Ng4UjNkYtJRvEt6qfsR6BbD7WYAau-d_t8eK9LD-FKYztq6oUwFaKEUHp2mN03x21-fONzPh/s1600/tumblr_lki6wump181qcrsn7o1_500_large.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5t2ypsyQ2QVQTRS9UR7dsYRaSPukseOufFH6lj42lDfoEdc7jAXdHDob9G5fQjr75UUP2Ng4UjNkYtJRvEt6qfsR6BbD7WYAau-d_t8eK9LD-FKYztq6oUwFaKEUHp2mN03x21-fONzPh/s400/tumblr_lki6wump181qcrsn7o1_500_large.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5708060251842323906" /></a> But he is also the most <span style="font-weight:bold;">intimate</span>, kind, and caring entity there is to ever possibly be experienced. I never "gave up men" because God cares enough for me, and knows me well enough, that he just whisked them away from me for this season. He did what he needed in order to help me recognize his outstretched arms just waiting for me to fall into. He knew I needed to be undistracted to romance me the way I've been longing to be romanced. <br /><br />For the past decade of my life, the very best of what I had to offer was being poured into these relationships that were unworthy. My<span style="font-weight:bold;"> firsts</span> and my <span style="font-weight:bold;">bests</span> belong to God because they were never mine to begin with. In recognizing and following through with that truth, the desires of my heart are being satisfied.<br /><br />It's still fresh for me to be single. Single is not something I am use to. One thing I love about, though, it is all the extra time I have now to spend with God. I love that I don't have a man to run to so when I get tired or lonely or insecure or stressed, I just turn to him and it's way better than going to a man. He doesn't feel burdened by me either - he actually delights in that because he <span style="font-style:italic;">desires</span> to cast out that fear and sadness with his love. He keeps pouring into me in places where there simply was no room for before - and I'm being serious when I say it's <span style="font-weight:bold;">way better</span>. Some day, when I'm ready, I will be able to date again. But it will be a very special person that my heart is being prepared for right now. Through this time of healing and devotion, not only am I learning the significance of a greater love, but my heart is being prepared to love someone else better than I've ever been able to.<br />I'll be sharing this Valentines Day with my dad, my lover, my best friend, and the King of my heart.renabeenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02586709240686639995noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8420764263258485990.post-84384658514790522172012-01-11T18:29:00.000-08:002012-01-11T21:43:52.703-08:00trying proverbs 22:3So I've recently discovered I am one of the most boring friends to have. I'm like that friend that went from super cool to<span style="font-weight:bold;"> super lame</span> when she decided to go to med school and all of a sudden had no time to do anything fun anymore. Except way less awesome because I don't even have the "well, at least she's going to be a doctor at the end of all of this. that will be worth it."<br />Going through the whole elimination diet thing to find out what my body is actually intolerant to, I'm discovering a most-possible intolerance to <span style="font-weight:bold;">gluten</span> and gluten, for those of you who don't know, is probably in like 85-90% of what you normally eat. <span style="font-weight:bold;">Yadayadayada.</span> Everyone and their dog these days is GF so that's no real shock. Apparently, a lot more people are and just don't know it yet. I really feel no need to go on about this except that I just want to say one thing: I'm sorry to my friends to be <span style="font-style:italic;">that</span> person who has an eating restriction. I've always been the "I'll eat anything" person so now I feel annoying when we go out to eat and I have to be picky - I don't want to be!<br />Two of my new years resolutions (for 6 months) were: no more espresso drinks and no buying clothes. That means if we go for coffee, I'm being boring and buying a boring drip. This also means if we go shopping, you're shopping and I'm watching (slash maybe being tempted and therefore, frustrated, but mostly by <span style="font-weight:bold;">choice</span>). So there is three things that make me boring. For <span style="font-weight:bold;">spiritual</span> and emotional reasons, I've given up drinking. That means if we go out "for a beer" now, I am getting... a coke? Way to make you feel awkward about that beer you just ordered.<br />So yeah, for all those reasons, since the past few months, my life has had some restrictions put on it. I still consider myself a <span style="font-weight:bold;">free-bird</span> at heart and I know I am a good time, but the things I do with my time and how I am with my friends might look very different today than they did 3 months ago. It's not like one day I woke up and decided to drop all of these things from my life just to practice discipline or punish myself for spending too much money or something. These restrictions on my life were in part a choice and in part, a submission to the obvious direction my life was taking - something outside of myself was taking it there. It was gradual... & became easy when I didn't want those things anymore anyway. I just feel callings in areas of my life that need fine tuning, and I'm not <span style="font-style:italic;">trying</span> to be <span style="font-weight:bold;">radical</span>, but sometimes, friends, we <span style="font-style:italic;">need</span> to be radical in order to progress. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGSvD1LkBYMHbxIsdJSyXwyjYcidpKs0L33r4ndGdvROpqz5vWlKqZ7U_hxsRCkZvEGiP-GucYylc-nLT1MdlfXj4ogkMwQaZMcnWStn80X_T09Fq1XNqI5H9uqlOiIGh9sXmRizmNrWgP/s1600/tumblr_lwo5kmFqmv1r8rf5ko1_500_large.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGSvD1LkBYMHbxIsdJSyXwyjYcidpKs0L33r4ndGdvROpqz5vWlKqZ7U_hxsRCkZvEGiP-GucYylc-nLT1MdlfXj4ogkMwQaZMcnWStn80X_T09Fq1XNqI5H9uqlOiIGh9sXmRizmNrWgP/s400/tumblr_lwo5kmFqmv1r8rf5ko1_500_large.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5696612505192012898" /></a> We've seasons of baby steps & little acts of faith; & we have seasons of enormous leaps that leave us vulnerable & overjoyed at the same time. I've been talking to God a lot more lately. I've been trying to see <span style="font-weight:bold;">what he wants to tell me</span>. <br />It has been crystal clear to me that I am in a season in my life where there are things - big things - in my life that I need to be freed from; there are things that captivate my <span style="font-weight:bold;">affection </span>and hold it hostage so much that I can't enjoy a freedom of finding <span style="font-weight:bold;">true joy</span> in God. Part of that is my identity in the way I dress, the friends I have, how much people take to me or like me, how many texts I might get (my battery has been lasting so much longer these days!), the way my hair looks. Anything and everything from the earrings I put on in the morning to <span style="font-weight:bold;">the way I laugh</span> after a joke I didn't get but know I should have. It's okay to take care of yourself, but it's not okay to look to people's praise to define <span style="font-style:italic;">who </span>and<span style="font-style:italic;"> how-great</span> you are. There are things I've done, and still do, that are evidence of my attachment to the <span style="font-weight:bold;">approval of others</span>. It's slowly but surely, only by God's perfect grace, being changed. <br />Giving up things that cost money is my way of being more aware of how I can <span style="font-weight:bold;">give</span> sacrificially to others, and not just satisfy an appetite I have in a moment of <span style="font-weight:bold;">weakness</span>, or fill a void of love with trying to look "Vancouver-hip" with cute style. At the end of the day, the lesson I'm trying to learn is that <span style="font-weight:bold;">it's not about me</span>. <br />Putting an end to something that has become such a regular part of my life, drinking, is causing me to take a deeper and more critical look at myself -- who I am and what my identity is. What are the jokes I love? Who are the people who make me the most happy? How am I a good friend? How do I relate to people? These are questions that don't get answered under the influence because the <span style="font-weight:bold;">lines are blurred</span> and all of a sudden, we're everyone's friend, and have a deluded sense of confidence in ourselves, and trust in others. That alters my reality even in sobriety because I'm not sure what's real and what's not anymore. I lose sight and clarity of thought and emotion. It's not that I don't love being drunk, it's that I love being drunk for the wrong reasons and too much. Because it <span style="font-weight:bold;">temporarily</span> fills in a gap that has been eroding from years of putting my trust in all the wrong things, when that gap can only be made whole when I let him make me completely <span style="font-weight:bold;">new</span> -- that means being made in His image (Colossians 3:10) & being "transformed" (2 Corinthians 3:18). It sounds huge. It is. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6aZaFvPNXu8zxZesDIohmDo23W5ehlJkn68sr70OPGuJrPlBHgf_1beQRhuIUL3Zz1vp2XtQ-pJnBxQHgZBiZoGoBPoidryEVEW-oSDTbIkSXUz-z7Q7gXBLJqlVGWfG9nKA_EFIL2DQZ/s1600/If_you_were_waiting_for_a_sign_.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6aZaFvPNXu8zxZesDIohmDo23W5ehlJkn68sr70OPGuJrPlBHgf_1beQRhuIUL3Zz1vp2XtQ-pJnBxQHgZBiZoGoBPoidryEVEW-oSDTbIkSXUz-z7Q7gXBLJqlVGWfG9nKA_EFIL2DQZ/s320/If_you_were_waiting_for_a_sign_.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5696612231689609554" /></a><br />I know decisions like these aren't for everyone and my goal isn't to prove that it's <span style="font-style:italic;">right</span> -- just that it's right for me. The longer I go without it, the less I want it and I see that as God's awesome way of boosting my confidence that<span style="font-style:italic;"> it is</span> the right decision for me.<br />And even though this is probably the one decision that will affect my social life the most, and maybe make me seem lame now, I'm not apologizing for it like I apologize for not being able to split a pizza with you.<br />This is an incredibly scary blog to write because the last thing I want is a bunch of eyes on me just waiting for me to fail at this new... ness. But that's not what this is about. If it were about me and my actions and disobedience then I might as well crawl under a rock and stay there for eternity. <br />And I'm not over-thinking. Maybe anyone who thinks that should just think more... maybe more about pushing themselves and less about the people around them. I'm thinking a good amount. I've spent too much time under-thinking.<br />I'm not perfect. <br />I'm striving [without ceasing] because my heart has been captivated by something incredible & perfect.<br />It's now or never.<br />I was wrong; I'm not changing, I am<span style="font-style:italic;"> being changed. </span><br />I'm learning. <br />I'm learning about <span style="font-style:italic;">suffering</span>.<br />I'm learning how to lean on not my efforts, but my knowledge that I've been forgiven as far as the East is from the West (Psalm 103:12); & that I'm given all the power, love, wisdom and self-discipline I need (2 Timothy 1:7)<br />Go figure beer is my drink of choice anyways and is not GF. Ohhh... so ironic.<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">PS. this isn't the whole story. ask me if you're still curious :)</span>renabeenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02586709240686639995noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8420764263258485990.post-87717992842334411122011-12-23T10:09:00.001-08:002011-12-23T10:31:43.906-08:00I just got this letter...Rena, have you learned nothing? <br /><br />How can you expect yourself to feel an instinctual, passionate, abandoned loyalty and love towards the One that you don't spend time with? <br /><br />If it were a man in your life and you just kept reading things about him, talking about him with friends, listening to what his best friends have to say about him and what kind of guy he is, but never actually spend intimate time with him yourself, you know your level of affection would have a limit... one that is very low... too low to sustain a healthy, interactive relationship. <br /><br />Furthermore, if you finally really started to spend some time with him, but only talked about yourself, your needs, and your interest in getting to know him, rather than hearing his voice and allowing yourself to experience his heart by listening to him, you would stop caring about him and grow bored. You will grow bored of listening to your own voice complaining and requesting when you already know that he is the one for you. <br /><br />Stop trying to gain Him, Rena. <br /><br />Stop trying to experience Him by <span style="font-style:italic;">playing the part</span> that you've learned you should play, reading the instructions on how to live in relationship with Him, but never actually throwing yourself into His arms and letting His embrace warm you from head to toe and change you from the inside out. It's the difference between trying to pick off all of the burnt bits seemingly cemented to the inside of a casserole dish with your fingernails rather than allowing hot water and soap do all of that work overnight while you sleep. <br /><br />In His own perfect power, and in His own perfect way, it's His love that does the work - not you and your struggle to change. <br /><br />Love,<br /><br />Rena<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVslFHYe_ZU8V2T4SCShIz_JE7ArtFsVkp0qOtpe2MXsdw2BnqArVafiOeh5S0v3dBitLgHPVnkuBNaR5LE2tVLKzyzmZIEYvUPbqrv4kJTkSCK27ZGqL6aaq4WNyTf0p9R3CzOz33RsjP/s1600/tumblr_lsy6t3UHD71qc3sp6o1_500_large.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVslFHYe_ZU8V2T4SCShIz_JE7ArtFsVkp0qOtpe2MXsdw2BnqArVafiOeh5S0v3dBitLgHPVnkuBNaR5LE2tVLKzyzmZIEYvUPbqrv4kJTkSCK27ZGqL6aaq4WNyTf0p9R3CzOz33RsjP/s400/tumblr_lsy6t3UHD71qc3sp6o1_500_large.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5689392812178511506" /></a>renabeenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02586709240686639995noreply@blogger.com0