Hello River

“The worst possible scenario is that your water breaks and you are not quite yet in labor. But that is a pretty rare occurrence in the scheme of things.” – my (amazing) OB at my 36 week appointment.

Waiting for River was such a different experience than waiting for Noah. First of all, the anticipation is a little bit less…apparent. I mean, I’m chasing around a 3 year old all day, trying to teach him manners, answer his questions (oh my) and well…I just didn’t have time to sit around and tap my foot at the little boy in my tummy. Secondly, we were so much more prepared for birthing a baby this time around. We took classes (woop woop hypnobirthing) and we hired a doula (Kylie). Altogether, we felt prepared to meet the boy whenever he decided to come, and we truly trusted that God had that plan all worked out already, so why worry?

The day I went into labor was a busy one. We had to bring Nate to work because of some car issues and so Noah and I went to the Del Mar beach park early on in the day to kill some time before my 38 week appointment at the OB. I remember sitting in the back of the car with Noah, him intertwining his fingers with mine as we listened to some music in the car and drove down the freeway in traffic to Nate’s office. Such a sweet memory with my firstborn. We played at the park for a bit and watched the trains go by (my Noah’s favorite activity). We went to have lunch and play at gramma’s house up the street around 11 am and then left to go to my OB appointment around 1:30 pm.

Nate joined us at the OB office and I did my duty of peeing in a cup (quite the accomplishment with my huge belly) and then sat down to wait for my appointment. When I stood up to head back to the room, I distinctly remember being confused that my skirt was wet…did I pee myself?  No…I just did that in a cup. Hmm….I even asked Nate if I sat in some water. We both shrugged it off.

Everything was normal at the appointment and we all left the office. I didn’t feel like mentioning what had happened to the doctor, but my mind was spinning about it.  It was such a little amount though! And I was probably just going crazy…I’m 38 weeks pregnant after all. Yes, my skirt was still wet…but I just felt crazy. My water was not leaking…no way. I left the office, but when I got to my car and Nate listened to me talking myself down, he convinced me to go back in and ask the doctor about it. So I did…and they said to go home and wait it out, if it was my water we will know!

Anywho…I didn’t think much of it. Afterall, I had no surges and no more leaking. I had little reason to be anxious or worried. I was feeling fine! We had an InNOut dinner at the cliffs in Carlsbad and went home for bedtime for us all. Nate and I ended up staying up way too late (as always) and I crawled into bed around 11:30 pm. I laid down, so happy to finally be in bed….when a gush of fluid had me saying out loud: “Either I just peed myself or my water just broke.” Cue laughing and worried glances between Nate and I.

Because I was GBS+, we knew that the moment my water broke, we had to get to the hospital soon after so I could be on antibiotics during the remainder of my labor. This was not an ideal scenario, however. I was definitely not in labor! This meant we had to head to the hospital and would be trying to naturally kick start labor in the most unnatural of settings…a sterile hospital room. Not only that, but because we were trying for a VBAC, I was pretty limited when it comes to helping augment labor! The stakes all of a sudden got really high and I quickly became visibly nervous – shaking and sweating. I remember Nate looking at me and saying: “Babe, you gotta calm down. If we want to do this naturally, you gotta calm down.” And he was right.

Our desires for this labor and delivery were distinct, though not rigid. We wanted a vaginal birth, if possible. We did all the prep we could possibly afford to try to get educated on how to help that be the most likely outcome. Hypnobirthing classes gave us so much peace and I’m so grateful God placed us in that class for 5 weeks. We also hired a doula, Kylie. We wanted as much help as we could get to do this thing. Although I was not “set” on a natural birth, sans medication, I did know that statistics say the more natural route was the most successful way to have a VBAC, so I was willing to try it out!

After briefly talking to our OB and Kylie, we decided it was best to head to the hospital so we could verify that my water had indeed broken (though it was pretty obvious at this point!). We called Nate’s parents to come stay with Noah and we quickly, and excitedly, packed our bags (no…my bag was not quite packed yet haha!). Nate’s dad arrived just after midnight and I quietly snuck one last hug and kiss for Noah while he slept.

We left our house around 12:30 am (now Saturday, May 13) and quietly drove down to the hospital. Not rushing, not anxious…just quiet. We listened to my labor music – Hillsong’s “Of Dirt and Grace” and held hands as we drove. I had maybe two surges in the car, nothing painful or anything. Just little waves that came and went pretty quickly. I was happy to feel those, it helped calm me down that I was indeed going into labor.

We got to Encinitas Scripps by 1 am and were checked into our room shortly after. All this time my water had also been leaking more and more. Guys…I felt like I just kept peeing myself. And I never peed myself during my pregnancies. Never! It made me laugh. I just felt like a hot mess with water dripping out of me anytime I moved…so glamorous. We did opt to get my progress checked because we kind of wanted a baseline for starting our stay…and I was barely at 1 cm (which I was not surprised by!).

I got all hooked up to my monitors (VBACs require constant fetal monitoring) and my IV of antibiotics and was advised by my OB and Kylie to just rest as much as I could. It was about 2 am at this point. I would have to get a new dose of antibiotics every 3-4 hours so rest is what I did. As I laid down to get cozy, with water leaking out of me pretty much constantly, I started having surges every 15-20 minutes. I dozed in and out of sleep and got another few doses of antibiotics. More dozing and mild contractions here and there. Altogether not much action which was a bit discouraging. It felt like my body just was not quite kicking into gear.

My OB came to check on me around 10 am or so and we all wanted to check my progress (though we knew it was unlikely to be anything significant) – sure enough I was still at 1 cm. Not great news. We chatted about some options and our game plan with Dr. Cap and asked if he would come back in the late afternoon to check me again and we could further discuss options then depending on my progress. He was so relaxed about it all, which made me so much more calm. Most mamas whose water breaks are put on a pretty strict timeline because it is not great to sit with open water for a while…especially if you are GBS+ like me. My OB, however, was happy to let us wait it out and saw no reason to push us in any direction as both me and baby were doing great and I was getting antibiotics for the GBS. And he is just the most chill doctor ever! Ha!

We asked our doula to come give us some support around 11 am. We knew having her there would help us to relax and go with the flow. She arrived and got me walking and squatting the halls, bouncing on that birth ball, and relaxing in the shower. My surges were inconsistent and weak, but we basically took on the mindset of “fake it til you make it” and around 3-4 pm, thing started to pick up! My surges were getting stronger!

I started to utilize some of the techniques I learned in class, but mostly just sat in a comfortable position as the waves came over me. Whether that was pausing during our hall walks, closing my eyes as I sat on my hospital bed or exercise ball, I tried my best to imagine those surges pushing that baby boy down into birthing position. I remember having the thought: “you are really doing this! You are in labor!” Such a surreal experience for me.

I knew I had to be progressing which was exactly what we were hoping and praying for. I was excited, but very tired…at this point we had been in the hospital for about 15 hours and I was not feeling well rested. Around 5 pm, my OB came in again and we were all anxious to know if we had any progress (side note: it was my plan to not get checked for progress at all during my labor…but that was before we were in this “worst case scenario”. It was important to us to know that I was progressing so that we could make an informed decision about having a repeat cesarean birth due to my waters being open and me being GBS+ and all).

I asked not to know the number that I was at, so I wasn’t told at the time, but I was at 4 cm. Our OB took Nate and Kylie aside and told them that I need to keep going without an epidural or any other “help” for a while longer – he truly believed that would be the most beneficial to my success in having a VBAC. They came back to my side and onward we went.

Things got a little crazy and jumbled for me at this point. My surges started to get really powerful around 6 pm. I could feel my insides stretching and tearing open as the surges pushed baby boy down.  Those next few hours were blurry – talk about a time warp!  All I really remember was that I could not get comfortable and I was getting more and more discouraged because I felt like I was quickly losing steam.

Around 9 or 10 pm, I decided I wanted to know where I was at.  I told Nate and Kylie specifically that if I was not at 8+ cm, I wanted an epidural.  I was mentally and physically exhausted and I felt like I was not getting a break.  I was just kind of done feeling what was going on in my body!  And I was tensing and resisting everything my body was trying to do.  Kylie suggested we try a few different positions but I was just done!  So I got checked, and I was at a 4/5(ish) cm – remember how I said I didn’t know that I was at 4 cm earlier?  Well…Nate knew.  And I knew by the look on his face when the nurse told him my lack of progress that I was not going to be pleased ha!  But in some ways, I was relieved.  I quickly got prepped for an epidural (which seemed to take hours haha!).  And around 11 pm I had a small amount of sweet relief – for whatever reason, my epidural did not kick in right away.  It took about an hour for comfortable relief…but either way, I eventually got numb enough to be able to close my eyes for about an hour.  Ahhhh!

Around 12:30 am, my nurse came in and wanted to check my progress because by the look of my contractions on the monitor, she thought I was ready to push.  This was kind of crazy to me because I had only been 4/5 cm a few hours ago…but she checked and sure enough, I was 10 cm and baby boy’s head was right there!  So in a matter of about two hours I dilated 5 cm and baby boy dropped down into position…it seemed like the epidural was JUST what my body needed!

I did a few practice pushes with my nurse and because things were progressing quickly, they called Dr. Cap in.  He arrived shortly after 1 am and I pushed for just a little while longer.  What a weird experience this all was for me…I remember asking Nate to turn on some music because it was a little too quiet in my room.  I also remember being so unbelievably calm about the whole process.  Mind you, I really couldn’t feel much at this point and boy was I glad about that!!  I was just ready to meet our son!

At 1:48 am, I got to pull my sweet boy up on my chest and Nate and I met our second baby boy, River Daniel Chesnut.  He was a perfect 7 lbs, 10 oz and 20″ long.  He squawked for a little bit and then settled right in on my chest.  The sweet newborn smell…intoxicating.  He was perfect in every way.  Pudgy and squishy and so calm.  Everything was so calm.  The lights were low, voices were low…he came into our world in a whisper.

 

I did it.  I had a VBAC.  I look back on this experience and I am so incredibly thankful for my team (Nate, Kylie, Dr. Cap, and some wonderful nurses) who supported me and guided me gently as things unfolded in my labor.  It was not exactly as I had “planned” it all, but it was exactly how I envisioned it.  Quiet, peaceful, and calm.  Healing.  So very healing for my soul.  I am so grateful.

 

And just like that, we became a family of four.  Noah loved meeting his little brother.

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We picked River’s name for a few different reasons, the main one being that we just loved the name.  Noah was keen on it too!  And it just fit…and my oh my does River ever fit into our family.  He is a dream boat in so many ways. Many have asked and I am grateful, but I want to document it here too – my recovery and my experience with postpartum hormones this time around was night and day different than with Noah.  As I mentioned in my birth story with Noah, I could feel from the very moment Noah was born that something was just “off”.  Honestly, I kind of was waiting and waiting for weeks for that “off” feeling to hit with River and it just has not.  Yes, mom-ing two kids is crazy, wild, and just plain hard at times.  Some days I cry at how hard things are, especially in those early days with nursing and new schedules.  But River has been such a gift to our family and we are just going with the flow (get it, haha…) and learning as we go.  We are learning especially that babies don’t keep…and time flies at light speed as parents of two kids.  I’m gonna go snuggle my babe now…thanks for reading 🙂

Here are some photos from River’s first few days with us:

Drawn

The “formative” years of my spiritual walk began in high school but truly took shape in college as I wrestled with God and what it meant to be His.  My walk was unsteady and I was spiritually strangled as I struggled through the physical challenges of depression and anxiety.  Darkness like I had never experienced before was a reality of my day to day spiritual and mental interactions.  And yet, God met me in this place in the most intimate ways.  Like he says he will, he came running, sprinting, to meet me where I was.  He did not keep a safe distance.  He did not look on with contempt or disgust at the state I had gotten myself into.  He said this to me:

“You will never fully be in the dark. Even at night, I have lit up the sky with stars and the moon. You may hide from me, but I am still with you. I am the light of the world, in me there is no darkness. In the darkness of your hiding place, I am there too. The darkness may seem like it is going to strangle you, but my light will shine there too if you cry out to me. I am your hiding place. In me you will find peace and rest. You can trust me my daughter.”

As you can imagine, that got my attention.  And it was a balm to a wounded and hurting soul who didn’t have the eyes to see the light He was shining whenever I cried out to Him.  He slathered it on thick, I might add.  And so gently.

And in the last few years, birds.  Birds are how He smiles at me.  They stir my soul and re-lock my vision on Him.

In talking with a spiritual mentor the other day, I came to a realization that I had to speak out loud: “Any experience of God that I can remember has always been so gentle.”  As a person who struggles with God-image issues, this was kind of huge for me.  Because it forces me to recognize that those God-images I conjure up in my mind are truly enemy-fed lies that do not hold a candle to who God has come to me as.

He has whispered to me.  I don’t know about you, but not many people whisper to me right now.  In a fast paced world and society and culture and motherhood, I feel rushed.  And whispering is just not how things get done.

And yet…God whispers.

I have often wondered why I am so drawn to quiet, call it “solemn” worship music.  It kind of bothers me.  I try to turn on peppy, fun, shout it to the clouds worship music and my soul bristles.  I turn inward and disconnect.

What I long for is the soft rhythms and melodies of lyrical worship music.   Hillsong’s “Of Dirt and Grace” is a great example.  Almost every song on the album lifts my soul while simultaneously making me bawl my eyes out as the truth of the lyrics sink down deep to my soul and lay some kind of thick healing balm over my roughed up soul.

The common thread is becoming apparent to me.  The things I am drawn to, be it nature, soft worship, horses, birds…they are the ways I have experienced God.  God has showed up to me in the most gentle of ways.  He made me.  He knows it would be mostly in vain to wave a flashy banner in front of my eyes that says “I LOVE YOU!”.

Instead, he lifts my eyes to the sky as a hawk flies overhead.

He allows my gaze to settle  on the tree across the park where a spectacular bluebird perches on the low branches.

He draws my eyes to the silly sandpipers on the beach that scuttle away from the whitewash waves as fast as their tiny legs will take them.

He told a morning dove to make its nest in our side yard where I get to share in my son’s excitement as two little eggs hatch into baby birds.

How are you drawn?

The Fastest Kind of Slow

Today I went out for breakfast (at 7 am) with my boys, went to the park, played bubbles, grocery shopped, played in our backyard, made lunch, had snacks, played more bubbles, read books outside, played trains inside, played hide and seek in the yard, watched train videos, played with pool noodles, sat on the porch and had snack, and prepped dinner. All before 3 pm. Guys…that means there are still 4 hours to kill ’til bedtime.

Fast slow. That’s what this stage of my life feels like. The fastest kind of slow ever. Like every hour drags on and on and on, but all of a sudden it’s almost my son’s 3rd birthday and we’re about to have another baby. Time is f.l.y.ing.

Nate and I talk every now and again about what we did before we had kids. He jokes and says: “literally nothing!” And I agree and joke too, because that’s kind of what it feels like.  What did I do before this precious little “distraction” entered our world? Oh, if I think about it for more than a minute…I begin to remember certain things.  And if I’m honest with myself, I long for those days – especially on days like today when it seems like I have exhausted all options for activities before it hits noon. It’s the slower-pace, the less-clutter, the more-time-for-myself that is so darn enticing. Especially that last one.

This fast-paced slow has a way of nagging at my inability to make meaning out of every moment and how I am not using my time very wisely. But heck…I am trying to survive over here! Keeping a 2 year old alive and fed, growing another one, feeding the dog (thanks Nate for doing this one 99% of the time), feeding my family, keeping the house mostly un-cluttered, and then….yeah, quiet time? Woke up for that at 6:30 am and my son waltzed into the room at 6:31 am begging for eggs. This is my life. And there is an element of it that leaves me feeling undone and frayed around the edges.  Like I know there are pieces of myself unraveling, but I don’t know quite where or what, don’t really have the time to analyze it, and if I’m not careful and on guard, the enemy begins to insert his lies into these frays.

“You aren’t doing enough.”
“You haven’t spent any time with Jesus today.  How dare you beg him for patience right now?”
“You shouldn’t have said that, you are a bad mom.”

Over the last few months, I have felt God drawing me into a different kind of relationship with him than what I am used to. He is inviting me into something more intimate than I am comfortable with, yet have been longing for for a long time. He is acknowledging my deep, raw neediness by not satiating it in the ways I am used to. I can no longer check a box of my morning quiet time or devotional on a regular basis. I cannot seem to find a consistent way to connect with God that satsifies the neediness I feel in this stage. And faster and faster the days go by…yet slowly. Any other mamas feeling this strain?

What I do know is that God sees me here in this stage. And indeed he hears my breath prayers desperately asking for patience as I parent an extremely irrational 2 year old who NEEDS me to come play with him the moment I begin prepping dinner. I invited him into these thoughts today. I asked him to be my lens, to give me eyes not just to see but to value this fast-pace-of-slow life stage that he wrote for me. Because that’s the truth of it. He saw this stage before I did – I’ll go even further to claim that he wrote every single moment before they have happened. The park, the snacks, the train videos. And He also knows the disconnect I feel. He knows that I am uncomfortable not knowing what else I can “do” to draw closer to him in this unbelievably fast (yet slow) stage of mothering.

Do you ever feel like the way you relate to God, be it a devotional style, quiet time, nature, etc., is just not fitting for your current season of life? What do you do with those feelings of disconnection?

On Freedom

Freedom. That’s my word this year.

When I first heard of picking a word for the year, my thoughts first reminded me of my lack-there-of commitments to resolutions.  I’m just really bad at them.  Perhaps it is the stage of life I’m in where finishing any project is extremely challenging…or perhaps it is simply my personality.  But this month I got to thinking and decided that a single word would be a great way for this procrastinator-last-minute-mostly-hot-mess mama to grasp to something clear month-to-month.  Sort of like a blueprint for the year.  No commitments…just a word to come back to and re-center.

So through some prayer and thought…freedom.  My first thought when I got this word was: what hinders my freedom?  Talk about a can of thought worms.  So.much.  Things I believe about myself, about others, about God Himself… And yet…I am ready for a new way of being.  Because at the base of it all, those beliefs are all rooted in something that is not bringing me freedom.

So I got my word.  Now what?  I asked God for a tangible way to practice and explore what He has for me in that word. And He answered me with: delete Instagram and Facebook from your phone for now. WHAT?! But why?!!? Oh. That’s why. 😂

Some introspection later…I would find myself on Instagram blankly scrolling in an attempt to zone out the chaos of my day.  I would find myself on Facebook blankly scrolling while also becoming stressed, anxious, and tired of all of the opinions being thrown my way (disclaimer: some people can read without internalizing…I cannot).  I would blankly scroll and subconsciously worry about what my son is learning about his mama tuning out.  And then I would blankly scroll some more.  Oof.

So off they came.  For a few weeks.  And you know what?  I really missed them.  Perhaps you were thinking I’d come to this realization of how free I was without them and ya-da-ya-da…  Nah.  I missed them big time.  I missed connecting with friends I don’t get to see very often.  I missed the mommy-hood connection I have with fellow mamas who are so raw and real and refreshing with their words and posts.  I missed the food…oh yes…(#mealplanning).

But where God guides, he provides.  He didn’t ask me to do this for no good reason.  What I did realize was simply that my priorities are needing a bit of a shift.  The most important parts of my day will never be the Instagram or Facebook posts I am blankly scrolling through.  Freedom.  That is going to be the most important part of my day.  What brings me freedom?  What brings those around me more freedom?  What can I do to pursue these things?  What is the result of more freedom in my own life?  What does it really look like?  I am excited to perhaps answer one or two of these questions this year.

Did you choose a word this year?  Or perhaps you know exactly what the most important part of your day is?  I’d love if you shared.

On Desperation

It was 10 am and my patience was running thin.  Some days, my patience tank is fairly full…other days it is sputtering.  Knowing it is always a better idea to get out of the house for the sake of both my sanity and Noah’s, I wrestled him into his car seat and promptly begged for an extra ounce of patience as my son threw his toy train onto the floor in the back seat as I put the car in reverse to get out of the garage.

In that moment, and the moments following as my patience wore thinner and thinner, all I could think of was my desperation bubbling to the surface.

My desperation that tells me I’m not good enough.  My desperation that tells me I don’t do enough.  My desperation that tells me I’m a bad mom.  My desperation that tells me that nothing I do matters.

As hot, angry tears welled up in my eyes, all I could think that would make things better was peace and quiet.  So naturally, I upped the volume of Veggie Tales – peace and quiet looks a little different in motherhood – and I turned my thoughts to God and prayed.

I begged God for a reminder that He sees me.  I thought of Psalm 139.  The entire Psalm is a reminder of this, but verses 1-2 say: “O LORD, you have examined my heart and know everything about me.  You know when I sit down or stand up.  You know my thoughts even when I’m far away.”

When my desperation threatens to drive me deep into guilt about my inabilities, God sees it as fitting to tell me, “I see you, here.”  My inabilities tend to make me think of myself as useless – but where in scripture does God ever call one of his own useless?  Never.

In these moments of desperation, I see the ends of myself.  These ends of myself are nubby, raw and ugly, but very real part of me.  I have limits.  I have unfinished parts of my heart and soul.  They make me uncomfortable and scratchy and I don’t like to look at them for long.

But what I am finding is that these places are ripe, fertile soil for God’s love.  They are the places of my heart that God sees and smiles – knowing that here is the place where I will need Him most.  He sees these places and moves in close and quick saying “I will love you right here my darling.  I will not lay anything ill-fitting on you.  Let me love you here.”

What if you began to see your desperation as a gift…an invitation?  What if you went to God there instead of trying harder or just “getting by” on your own stretches of yourself?  I believe that you would begin to experience a side of God that delights in our limits – because it is in these limits that our humanness meets His Godness and shows us what it truly means to abide.

#stayawaketolove

 

On Motherhood and God

Do you know about spiritual highs and lows? I sure do. Motherhood came upon me in a spiritual desert, so-to-speak. Enter sleepless nights, hormonal roller coasters, and a little needy human to keep alive and love on – and my spiritual life went into a tailspin. Depression, anxiety, and fear clouded my mind. I ran further and further away from God as I believed the lie that God was disappointed in my inability to navigate through the fog back to Him. This lie changed everything for me these last two years. Layers upon layers of lies about myself and God built up on one another as I trudged on into motherhood. I was on my own because “God is far away.” I couldn’t approach God because “I am not worthy.” I couldn’t read his Word without guilt creeping in because “I wasn’t doing enough to get back to Him.”  I went deeper and deeper inside a pit that I perceived to be safe. Every time I peeked my head out to see if anything had changed with regard to how God thinks of me, I was met with my lies, and in turn, shame. So back into my pit I went.

And life has a way of just going onward. My son is now two and full of energy, enthusiasm, and excitement for life. He is growing in more ways than just physical. And I’m pouring into him daily from an empty pitcher. 

Over the last few months I have felt a stirring in my heart. Though subtle and gentle, this stirring has certainly been personal. Through various podcasts, a wonderful group of mommies at my church, some counseling, and the occasional quiet time, I have come to realize that as the keeper of the home, yes, I am keeping my son alive and fed and loved on a daily basis, but as a daughter of God, my soul is suffering as I continue to run from Him. I am a weary mama. A weary mama who is just barely making spiritual ends meet in my own soul.

Matt 4:4 says: “It is written, ‘Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of God.’” 

I am weary. And mamas, Jesus himself said “come to me, all you who are weary and burdened and I will give you rest.” I’m finally accepting that invitation. I’m taking a leap of faith to trust that God will come through on that promise. 

Do you want to be filled to satisfaction? Do want to be surprised and delighted?  Do you want to know what Jesus has to say about you? Do you wish you could read His word and find hope and restoration? I found a wonderful resource that I want to use to explore these questions in a practical way. 
Hope for the Weary Mom is packed with forty truths that will encourage mama hearts. And it’s a 40 day devotional, made to be short and sweet and I believe just what my weary heart needs right now. 

Any other weary moms out there? Would you like to join me? 

Just email me and I’ll get you some info. DaniellaChesnut at gmail. 

Grace on grace. Xo! – Yella

Note: this is not sponsored in any way. I’m just a weary mom who came upon a buoy in my own storm. 

stay awake to love

Today has been a hard day.  My thought life is foggy and crowded (#internalprocessorsunite) and I finally stopped to ask God why I keep coming to this place.

“You run from big decisions.” I heard Him say.  Boom.  That’s it.  Some context: we are in the process of potentially buying a home.  Big deal!  Lots of money!  Lots of questions.  And like any other big decision I have had to make in my life…I freeze.  Mentally, spiritually, and if I didn’t care so much about what other people thought, I would freeze physically too (but that would for sure tip people off…God forbid anybody should know about this!).

I put Noah down for nap and instead of running from my thoughts, I decided to push myself a little harder…I asked the lover of my soul: why do I freeze? “Because you don’t believe I will love you if you make the wrong decision.”

So what do I believe then? “You didn’t even pray about it!  Nothing good can come from this.  God is not proud of you for making that decision.  God won’t follow you there.  God’s love is dependent on you making the right decision.”  That is what I believe.

They are lies.  They are fiery arrows from the Devil himself straight at my heart.  Intended to cripple me and render me useless.  Intended to steal my very life from my. “The thief comes only in order to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they may have and enjoy life, and have it in abundance [to the full, till it overflows].” John 10:10.

What I have been believing is definitely not life giving.  And today, in this moment, I am letting Him come for me.  Simple as that, friends.

In a sermon on Sunday, our pastor noted that in most accounts of Jesus healing in the Bible, it is Jesus coming TO the person being healed.  It is not our doing – there is nothing we can do to be closer to Jesus.  He draws near to us.  I am resting in that today.  There is nothing else I can do.

Anjuli Paschall (@lovealways.anjuli) is starting a movement on Instagram entitled #stayawaketolove and it is all about being open and honest about where you are at and how you are trying to stay awake to love in the midst of your own personal chaos.  This is my #stayawaketolove story today.

motherhood & Jesus || take my hand

Multiple times per day, I reach out my hand to my little boy to lead him from point A to point B. I will extend my hand and say:
“Do you want to go get a snack?”
“Do you want to go upstairs to play trains?”
“Let’s go push your Mickey car outside!”

Other times I explain why I’m extending my hand:
“It’s time to go night-night…take mama’s hand and lets go upstairs to get cozy!”
“It’s time to get in the car to go to [insert exciting destination for a 1 year old here]! Take mama’s hand!”
“It’s time to go home now, take mama’s hand so we can get to the car safely.”

Almost every time he will, at the very least, take my hand and follow me.  Occasionally, once he realizes where we are headed or that we are leaving a particularly fun activity (playing trains, the beach, the park, playing with his girlfriend Ava, etc.), he will attempt to let go of my hand and go back to whatever activity he was doing.  I am usually able to convince him to follow me, but sometimes I have to pick him up and carry him (at times, while he’s physically fighting me and crying).  Every mom of a toddler knows what I am referring to here – you can probably picture these exact moments in your head!

There are also times when I have to lead him to do something that he really doesn’t want to do, such as diaper changes or doctor visits.  These are especially hard moments, because the last thing I want to do is lose the trust that my son has in me to protect and care for him.  Little does he know, everything I do has exactly that motivation behind it!

That aside, today was just an ordinary day at home with my boy.  He was happily playing trains in the living room while I cleaned up dishes from lunch.  When I was finished with dishes, I had to do a favor for a neighbor, so I walked over to him and reached out my hand so we could walk over to their house.  Even though I hadn’t even said a word as to what we were going to be doing, he grabbed my hand and my heart fluttered, observing the trust my boy has in me.  He didn’t know what we were about to do.  He had no idea where we were going.  But He knew he could grab my hand and I would take care of him from there.  He adores me.  He knows I love him.  And I heard the Spirit whisper in my heart, “God wants you to feel this way toward Him.”

Child-like faith is mentioned in the Bible and, in my walk with Jesus, He has spoken on many occasions as to what it really means to strive after that type of faith.  This was one of those moments.  God longs for me to take His hand, trusting that He knows what is best.  That He loves me.  That He will often lead me to moments of laughter, peace, and joy because He longs to put a smile on my face, trusting in His loving acceptance of and grace towards me.  And that He will walk me through the hard moments that are unavoidable and inevitable in this broken world.

To continue with the metaphor, sometimes I will hesitate to take His hand because I do not remember or trust His Truth.  Like my own son, I sometimes turn back once I see what I’m leaving or where I think I’m being led.  There are times, because He cares for me, that He will pick me up and carry me, but most often, I must make the choice to grab the Hand extended to me.

Jesus, would you continue to use my daily circumstances to point me to You and Your heart for me and for others.  Teach me what it means to have child-like faith through the gift of my own child.  Thank you for the reminder that walking with you means trusting that I can grab your hand when you reach down to lead me somewhere unfamiliar or out of the “norm”.  Amen.

a journey through postpartum depression

This is a very difficult post for me as it touches on some deep wounds that are still healing and I’m still finding my footing again.  I am also very hesitant about sharing details of this part of my story.  The primary reason being that I truly don’t want to “scare” any future moms or cast a shadow on my own experience of entering motherhood.  However, if my honesty helps shed light on even just one woman’s “time in the trenches” of new motherhood, then I think it is worth it.  I own that this is my story, it was my experience, and it won’t look like anyone else’s – just like yours will be unique to you.  With that said…

I’m not sure when or where I first learned about postpartum depression (PPD), but I definitely knew what it was as I entered the later stages of my pregnancy.  Let me first clear up a common misconception about PPD…It is not the same thing as the “baby blues”.  PPD is actually a clinically diagnosed form of depression that occurs in a small percentage of women after the birth of their child.  It can rear its ugly head within days or weeks or months post-birth.  The main differences between baby blues and PPD are the severity of symptoms and the length of time that a woman suffers from it.  PPD symptoms can include insomnia, lack of joy, thoughts of harming self or baby, intense irritability or anger, hopelessness, severe mood swings, feelings of shame, guilt, or inadequacy, lowered libido, overwhelming fatigue, and difficulty bonding with baby (source: MayoClinic.org).  Now, I don’t list these things to scare anyone, I simply list them to help anyone reading this to understand that PPD is a serious issue and shouldn’t be overlooked as “baby blues”.  It is a completely different beast.  But there is hope and it is treatable – so don’t stop reading now

In my early years at college, I spiraled into a very deep depression that took years of counseling, listening to God’s whispers, and eventually going on medicine to come out of.  When I found out I was pregnant, I was actually in a very good place with regard to my journey with depression and anxiety.  I was on medication still, but I decided to stop it when I found out I was pregnant because the research I did said it wasn’t known whether or not it was safe to take during pregnancy.  At my first appointment, my doctor basically left it up to me whether or not I wanted to take the medication – and by that time I had been off of it for weeks and I felt good, so I decided to stop taking it indefinitely.  Because of my personal history with depression and anxiety, my doctor did warn me that I might be a bit more at risk for experiencing PPD.  I knew my doctor didn’t have any intention of making me nervous about it, but just wanted to give me a heads up.  I appreciated that and I prayed that God would guide me with grace when I crossed the bridge into motherhood.

I have to give a short reader’s digest version of my birth story just to set the stage a little bit for my experience entering motherhood.  I went into labor on a Monday evening and after two days of intermittent labor, I went in for my 40-week appointment and the doctor
discovered that my little boy was completely breech (no, we had no idea – he had been head down for weeks).  I was admitted to the hospital within an hour and prepped for an emergency cesarean.  This was not at all what I had planned, but it is what had to happen so I put my mine and my baby’s lives in the hands of skilled doctors and my sweet Noah arrived on 6/11/14 weighing 7 lbs 13 oz and 20 inches long!
Like many new moms, immediately following the birth of Noah,I was a hormonal wreck – sweating, crying, laughing, joyful, fearful – all at once!  I knew this was all
somewhat normal, so I tried not to let myself dwell on how crazy I felt.  I will admit, however, that deep down, even at that early stage, I knew something was brewing underneath it all.  My time in the hospital was extremely draining and very much set the stage for new motherhood for me.  In hindsight, I should not have let the nurses’ and doctors’ advice/subtle comments affect me as much as they did.  But I did and I completely regret that – but I don’t hold it against myself, I am just being honest about that stage!  Additionally, a few other factors contributed to the trajectory of my mind as I went home…in particular, Noah was not nursing well and didn’t from the start.  I got dozens of opinions on the matter from well meaning nurses, but it was all extremely overwhelming.  Noah didn’t gain any weight in the hospital either – which, by the way, is fairly normal!  But for Noah, he lost so much that they told me he “needed” to be supplemented with formula – it was “medically necessary”.  Imagine hearing that as a new mom!  It was slightly devastating to me, but I was very much willing to do whatever it took to help my baby.  And when a medical professional tells you it is medically necessary to do something, you usually follow their advice…

Anyway, we were discharged and by the time I got home from the hospital I was overwhelmingly tired (I only slept maybe 5 hours, cumulative, in the three nights I spent in my shared room in the hospital – yes, 5 hours).  This was not the best beginning!  The first few weeks postpartum are extremely exhausting for any new mom.  Learning to nurse/feed and care for a little human that has no other way of telling you they need you than by crying is just plain tiring!  For some women, this time is also shadowed by what was mentioned at the beginning of this post – the “baby blues”.  “If you know, you know” – what I mean by that is if you experienced the baby blues, you just know.  However, there are plenty of moms who walk through this phase tired and bleary eyed, but not “blue” – so don’t set yourself up for something you may not experience!  For me, these blues hit me hard from the moment I gave birth.  I experienced subtle, but troubling, thoughts and an overwhelming feeling of sadness, confusion, and exhaustion.  They were intermingled with intense feelings of joy, “mama bear” instincts, and peace.  So weird, right?  And that right there was part of why this stage was so utterly confusing and hard to navigate!

So when did I realize that I was possibly suffering from PPD?  Other than feeling exhausted, hopeless, moody, and completely inadequate at meeting my son’s needs, I have one of the most vivid memories from when Noah was around two weeks old.  I was sitting at dinner trying to conjure up an appetite (which should have been a red flag to this new nursing mama) when this thought crossed my mind: “What if I wasn’t here right now?  What if Noah wasn’t here right now?  What if I disappeared and never came back?  What if something bad happened right now?  That sounds nice.”  These were very real and very scary thoughts for me to be having.  I had enough “normal” brainpower in me to understand that this was not normal.  I immediately got hot and sweaty and the air became so thick that I felt like I couldn’t take a breath.  I stepped onto our balcony and just cried.  I cried and cried until I felt like there was no point in crying anymore.  Nate held and rocked both our little boy and me and prayed over me.  I felt so shrouded in darkness and so vulnerable to my own mind.

Moments like those continued to happen almost on a daily basis for a few weeks.  My heart would begin to race and I knew if I didn’t derail my thoughts, I would end up in a ball on the floor having a panic attack.  Noah’s needs seemed mountainous compared to anything else and I definitely didn’t feel equipped to help him.  Nate leaving for work in the morning was daunting.  I dreaded being alone with Noah – not because I feared I would ever do anything to him, but because I dreaded being alone.  It was when I was alone that my mind went spinning and my heart was strangled with anxiety and stress.  I desperately wanted to be happy.  I desperately wanted to feel in control.  I desperately wanted to be normal – I just had a beautiful, healthy, sweet baby boy for goodness sake.  I should be happy!

During this time, I prayed and prayed and asked God for clarity, strength, peace, and healing.  He provided for me on a daily basis and I definitely wouldn’t have survived this period without Him.  And He designed me for just that.  That doesn’t mean this time was by any means enjoyable, in fact it was probably the hardest phase I have ever had to walk through.  I was suffering and it was taking a huge toll on me.  I was exhausted and not enjoying my little boy.  It always seemed like there were so many obstacles.  Around six weeks postpartum, things started to improve.  I believe a mixture of my body finally leveling off on the hormonal rollercoaster and me finally getting the hang of nursing Noah contributed to this.  I had my six-week postpartum check up and my doctor didn’t really address anything regarding my mental health – honestly, I didn’t want to address it.  I was so scared of what I had just experienced over the last six weeks that I didn’t want to relive any of it – especially not to my doctor who has the ability to call me clinically crazy (ha-ha).  This upward slope quickly hit a plateau and plunged downward around 8 weeks.  From that point until Noah was around 5 months old, I suffered from PPD symptoms pretty regularly.  Another huge contributing factor to this stage for me was the fact that Noah only slept for 2-3 hour increments at nighttime.  I was suffering physically from lack of sleep and my mental health was feeding off of this.  Some days were harder than others, but I just accepted this as my new “normal”.  However, I knew deep down that this was far from normal and life just didn’t need to be this hard.  Grocery shopping, laundry, intimacy with Nate, doing dishes, going on play dates, seeing girlfriends, etc. all seemed like chores and I had little joy in anything.  Over and over again, I had the thought “you should go talk to a doctor, they will help you”.  I resisted – mostly because I didn’t believe it.  And I just knew things would eventually even out…right?  I can’t stay depressed forever…right?

Around five months in, I had had enough and I decided to finally listen to that little voice.  Because of some insurance issues, I actually could not go back and see my normal OBGYN.  So I had to call a new office, see a new doctor, and I was so scared.  I prayed that God would see me through this whole thing.  I made an appointment and I saw a very friendly OB who listened to me with compassion and understanding.  He recommended I go back on the same medicine that I had been taking pre-pregnancy.  Just a note: sometime during my pregnancy, my doctor and I had decided it might be a good idea for me to go back on the medicine shortly before my due date to help with potential PPD symptoms (and third trimester babies are less susceptible to any negative side effects from things mom takes).  I did do this, but in the hospital after I gave birth, my nurses were extremely negative about this medicine during breastfeeding (basically, they said there is nothing in literature that proves it doesn’t harm the baby, so therefore it’s not safe – my biology background was itching to rebuttal, especially because I DID do some research on this topic, but I digress…).  Anyway, my new OB assured me that this medicine is safe for breastfeeding (although it is not the MOST studied one, there are plenty of doctors that still prescribe it for PPD).  All this in mind, I just knew this was the right thing to do.

I started the medicine in November 2014 and I don’t even know how to describe the changes that have happened since then.  I am light, I am free, and my mind is no longer subject to the anxiety and fear that consumed me for five months.  Things became less complicated, less daunting and I began to find joy in the little things.  One thing the doctor told me after I was done explaining myself was this: “You just want to enjoy your little boy more, don’t you?”  I sighed and nodded as hot tears streamed down my cheeks.  Yes – that was exactly it.  I wanted to enjoy this stage more and I had tried so hard to pretend I felt that way.  Each day has become just a bit less complicated.  I can focus more on Jesus, on His plans for me, on His goodness, and on the joy He intended for me to take in being a mommy to Noah.  He has used this medicine to lift the cloud that settled the moment I gave birth.  Does that mean every day is easy?  Absolutely not!  Every day is still a battle and some days are simply harder than others.  But my new normal is not what I had settled for before.

So what is the moral of my story?  What did I learn?  I learned that I am stronger than I give myself credit for.  I learned that God gives grace on a moment-by-moment basis.  I learned that I have the choice to fight for my heart or to lie down and surrender to the enemy.  I learned again and again that I must choose joy.  And I learned that God uses different things at different times to help me walk through this life: people, experiences, medicine, time… My words for any new mom experiencing PPD or baby blues are these: my heart breaks for you, mama.  I have been there, in the trenches with your babe, feeling so attacked and vulnerable and just plain crazy.  But mama, you need to talk to someone.  You need to reach out for a hand – whatever that means for you.  All I know is that you must
talk.  In my 24 years of life, one truth that has been so life changing for me is this: God is light, in Him there is no darkness at all (1 John 1:5).  Mama, do you feel like you are in darkness?  I sure did.  That is not from God – and he wants desperately to shed his light in your mind and heart where the enemy is casting shadows.  I am praying for you and feel free to reach out to me in any way if you’d like some help navigating this time!

xxoo!

– yell

I love you Noah bear.

Restless.  That really is the perfect word to describe this mama-to-be awaiting the arrival of our baby boy.  I spent most of my days washing, folding, and organizing little baby clothes as well as cooking meals to put in our freezer to enjoy after his arrival.  I had fun organizing and decorating the nursery…Noah’s room.  Nate and I spent some special evenings just the two of us, enjoying what could be “our last date night before we have a baby” (there were several of these!)

On the evening of Monday, June 9th, Nate invited his brother over to hang out – one last “guys night” before Nate becomes a dad.  Daniel came over and we all spent a little time chatting in the nursery before the guys spent their time together.  Daniel said he just “felt it” – that this was the night.  He even felt compelled to pray for us which was very special, even though in my head I was thinking, “this baby is never coming out”. [The photo below of the lady with a basketball under her shirt was taken that evening.]

I went to bed rather early for me – I really wasn’t feeling very well and I wanted to give the guys their time together.  I fell asleep pretty quickly, but woke up to some nauseating pains around 2 am (Tuesday, June 10).  After using the bathroom a few times, i was convinced I was either in early labor or I got some kind of food poisoning.  But to my knowledge, food poisoning doesn’t come in periodic waves of cramping…I was definitely having some contractions!  I woke Nate up and he started timing them…we were very excited!  By 4 am, I was having contractions every few minutes!  It was all happening a lot faster than I had anticipated.

Much to our disappointment, my labor slowed down significantly as morning approached.  We had a little breakfast and took Penny on a walk around the block.  My contractions had slowed to once every 30-45 minutes!  We were so excited to be meeting our little boy soon…but this all seemed like a false alarm!

Because I wasn’t sure if my water had broken, we decided to go to the hospital to get checked (Nate snapped the picture to the left as we were leaving our apartment).  They hooked me up to some monitors and watched Noah’s heart rate and reaction to the contractions.  Everything looked normal and my water was still intact so they sent me home with symptoms of “false labor”, but i was dilated to 1 cm!  Hooray!  I was slightly encouraged by this, but not looking forward to how long of a process I had ahead of me (after all…8 hrs of “pre-labor” later and only 1 cm progress).

We came back home and my mom came up to spend the day with us and help us get some more things done around the house to prep for bringing Noah home.  I had random, sporadic contractions throughout the day and was exhausted by early evening.  Nate and I went to bed relatively early because we were both so tired from the previous night’s interrupted sleep.  We cozied up and even tried to watch a movie (Shrek 2..!), but I fell asleep 5 minutes!  I was nauseous for some reason and let’s be honest, this preggo mama was tired!

About an hour later (~10 pm), I started having contractions again, they were pretty strong and I knew this had to be the real thing this time!  I was excited, but this enthusiasm quickly turned to semi-panic as I started having very strong, very painful contractions every 3-5 minutes.  This pattern lasted for about 1.5 hrs before we called the hospital to see what we should do (this was not the way labor was described to us in our labor class!! So we (mostly I) was freaking out thinking I was about to have a baby in our apartment…).  The nurse we spoke with told us to continue to wait it out at home because my water hadn’t yet broken.

The night wore on and as morning (Wednesday, June 11) approached, my labor slowed down yet again.  At this point I felt so, so discouraged.  Not only had I lost yet another night of sleep (oh my, how naive I was…), but my labor was slowing down to a standstill yet again!  I was certain this was the real thing and I’d be having our baby boy by noon!  Because it was actually my due date, I was technically 40 weeks, so we decided to call my doctor’s office to see if we could come in for my full term appointment and discuss our options for moving things along, if possible.  We vowed that we would not leave the doctor’s office without some kind of plan moving forward – I was so tired from two nights of no sleep and felt that if I had to endure another night like the last two, I wouldn’t make it through labor alive!

We headed in for an appointment and I was hooked up to a fetal monitor as soon as we got in.  Everything still looked normal and I was still having sporadic contractions (nothing consistent).  The doctor (not my normal doctor) did a quick ultrasound and said everything looked good and normal.  I was so frustrated at this point because I felt that she was not listening or taking any concern for my state of exhaustion and discouragement.  She said that this is probably the start of labor and my body is just doing what it needs to do to get this baby out…eventually.  I asked if she could check to see how far along I was.  She (very reluctantly) did so and informed us I was about 3 cm.  Good news!  However, when we pushed and asked if there was anything we could do to move things along (as I said above, we had no intention of leaving this appointment without a plan of action), she gave us a flat-out “no”.

I was so discouraged, and even more exhausted at the prospect of another potential sleepless night ahead.  After discussing why she didn’t want to do anything to move things along (her main reason being it was my first baby), she decided to check the baby’s head position, just to see where he was at (in addition to dilation, the baby has to drop down lower into the birth canal as labor progresses).  She felt my belly here and there and got a puzzled look on her face.  She flipped the ultrasound machine back on and quickly did some scanning of my abdomen.  I was holding my breath because I could tell something was wrong.  All of the sudden, she turned to us both and said very matter-of-factually, “your baby is completely breech, did you know?”. (This means that the baby is in a head up position – not safe to deliver normally).

So many different emotions streamed through my brain all at once.  Shock, disappointment, fear, confusion…I immediately burst into tears.  I asked if there was anything that could be done to turn him around and she said no, it was too late in the pregnancy to do that.  And then she informed us that we needed to go immediately to the hospital to be admitted for a cesarean section delivery.  The emotions i just listed multiplied by 10.  All of the sudden my heart was on the floor in pieces and I wasn’t even sure why.  It’s not like a cesarean was a death sentence!  However, in the moment, I felt like I had failed my own body somehow.  I felt like I had failed myself.  Nate hugged me and cried with me.  He knew how much I wanted to avoid this outcome, unless medically necessary.

After a few very sincere condolences (can you tell I didn’t like this doctor?) from the doctor, I gathered my emotions and my heart off the floor and we left for the hospital.  We called family who all encouraged us and let us know they were thinking of and praying for us.  We got admitted to the hospital very quickly and I got checked into a labor room to be prepped for surgery.  Looking back, this all felt like a blur – I was still crying and very emotional when I was being checked into the hospital.  In fact, when they called my name in the waiting room, I burst into tears all over again!  Talk about emotional!  I was able to calm down as they got me hooked up to some monitors and had me answer a long questionnaire – definitely got my mind off of things!

Shortly after I got into my lovely gown (how do you put those things on anyway??), some family came and visited us – how sweet it was to get hugs and encouragement from them!  However, it wasn’t until I was sitting in the labor room with just Nate (who was changing into his very LARGE surgical scrubs – right) with my hands on my swollen belly that I realized the significance of this
time…I would be meeting my son within the hour.  The little life I had felt growing inside of me for 40 weeks would finally be in our arms. I was jittery and excited and nervous all at once!

I was wheeled into the OR, passing by our families cheering us on in the hallway (it was really quite laughable…we have a big family).  My heart was in my throat and I started shaking as they wheeled me into the surgery room – my nerves were starting to get the best of me.  Nate had to sit outside of the room while the anesthesiologist gave me a spinal tap (not as scary as I imagined it would be!).  I was laid flat on my back in the middle of this big white room with about twelve doctors and nurses around me.  Nate was allowed back in just as I began to panic a bit as the medicine took effect on my body.  I got some oxygen and I was golden!!  Then the countdown began.  I didn’t even know what to feel!  Nate sat by my head the whole surgery – he didn’t want to watch anything (surprise surprise – but really, who wants to see that?).  Some tugging and pressure…and my little boy, my love, my sweetie pie, my noah bear…was here!  They briefly lifted him up above the curtain and I got a glimpse of his swollen, pudgy, sweet little face.  I immediately started crying tears of relief – he’s here!  They whisked him away to a table nearby to get his vitals and he was squawking up a storm so I was happy about that!  All of this is also on camera!  Thankful for a quick thinking anesthesiologist (who knew?).

Nate went over to be with him as they cleaned him off and took his measurements…he called out his weight, his height, his eye color, his hair color (red?!).  He was eventually able to bring him over to me.  His little face.  My husband was holding our little boy, our son.  The nurse transferred Noah from Nate to my chest right before I got wheeled into the recovery room.  I continued to cry tears of shock and relief.  He’s here! He’s mine!  [The photo to the left is Noah’s first picture!]

\I was in recovery for 4 hours (spinal taps tend to take a little longer to wear off)…for me it went by fast, but for our sweet family in the waiting room, it was torture!  I was wheeled into the postpartum room, again passing by my entire family, and the visiting commenced.  It was very fun to introduce him to our family.  I was on heavy painkillers and extremely hormonal (and sweating like crazy), but I actually enjoyed this part (I had anticipated that I might want this to be over ASAP, considering I’m such an introvert!).

The next few days in the hospital were a blur, but I still remember Noah’s cries in the middle of the night (wake up call!), the sweet way he cooed while he slept (delicious), the first time daddy changed his diaper (he was nervous), the first time I tried to walk (ouch!), and the first time I got to shower post-surgery (heaven).  I couldn’t do a whole lot in the hospital due to my surgery…but Nate was such a champion for us.  He changed all of Noah’s diapers, brought him to me when he needed to eat, and soothed him when I couldn’t handle his little squawks any longer.  He and I bonded in a way only two parents who just had a new baby can…it’s indescribable.  We both have a new love and respect for one another after stepping over the threshold of parenthood together.  And just a little side-note: according to my real OB doctor, less than 5% of babies turn to be in breech positioning after week 34.  As of my appointment prior to me going into labor, Noah was head down and in birthing position (unless the doctor was coocoo…which I don’t think she was).  Noah just decided he’d rather be right side up, thank you very much!  It was even mentioned that the weird start of my labor may have been due to his positioning.  Even though I didn’t really care for her bedside manner, I am very thankful that the doctor did decide to check Noah’s head position because we possibly would not have found out about his positioning until much later in my labor!  And at that stage, it can be extremely dangerous for both mama and baby!  Thank you Lord for watching over this little (big) detail.

Joy and happiness are just two of the many emotions that were felt during this huge transition.  Other emotions surfaced and I kept a very insecure and threatening part of me hidden just below the surface.  It was the part that was very, very unsure of new motherhood.  The part of me that was scared to death of the new little life that desperately and completely depended on me.  But that’s a story for another time, for now…I love you Noah bear.  You are perfectly mine and I couldn’t have asked for a sweeter son.

Noah Gates Chesnut
June 11, 2014 | 2:06 pm | 7 lbs 13 oz | 20″