learning to walk by faith

I’ve been writing this post in my head for a few months now. The Lord has been writing it on my heart for even longer. I feel compelled to share our story (that continues to unfold) for a few reasons. The first is because I think it is edifying for our family and for fellow believers to hear clear and practical examples of God’s faithfulness and grace. I want our boys to hold these memories dear in their hearts as they grow and by God’s grace seek a vibrant relationship of their own with Jesus. I also find writing to be an outlet for me. I articulate so much better with the written word and it is cathartic for me to pour my heart and soul into a piece of writing. Finally, I think we owe so many people our sincere gratitude for the way they have loved us, cared for us, and prayed for us. And one way to show that gratitude is to share some of the details so that the bigger picture of what God has done can become clear for their own joy and for God’s glory.

Isaac is our second born son; his name means ‘laughter’ and he adds a lot of it to our home. He has an infectious laugh and a witty sense of humor so we are always telling him how aptly he is named. (This does not seem to deter him from wanting to change his name to either ‘T-rex’ or ‘Jake’. Tough call between the two, I know.)

He spent a week in the NICU when he was born due to complications from a hereditary blood condition (HS). After a complete blood exchange-tranfusion and lots of breastmilk, his jaundice relented and we brought Connor’s little brother home happy and healthy, albeit still slightly yellow tinted.

Most young children with HS suffer no ill-effects other than being slightly more susceptible to illness/infection and having low hemoglobin. This was true of Isaac. All of our hematology appointments were wonderfully uneventful. We were prepared, by the hematologist who was caring for Ike at the time, to expect an elective splenectomy around the age of 10 in order to spare him a repeat of his dad’s medical history (suddenly very ill at age 16 and required emergency surgery to remove both the spleen and gall bladder). The plan was to be pro-active in managing Ike’s blood condition so that he could hopefully keep his gall bladder and avoid becoming very ill. 

In February of 2012, we were living in the UK when Isaac began having random episodes of stomach aches followed by vomiting. It seemed to occur mostly in the evening after dinner and happened perhaps once a week. We didn’t take much notice at first. This strange, random vomiting continued into March. I would get calls from school to come and collect him because he had thrown up after lunch. His only complaint at this point in time was stomach pain and nausea.

By the end of March the pain and vomiting were becoming more frequent. Some days he would throw up after every single meal. Other days he was absolutely fine. We thought about his food choices and his activity level immediately following eating but we could not seem to make any sense of it. There was no rhyme or reason to the vomiting.

We made several trips to the general practitioner (GP) during these weeks. He kept chalking it up to a virus. But by the beginning of April Isaac was now vomiting 3-4 times per day every day. We began growing concerned and started to wonder if his symptoms were related to the HS. He certainly had many of the symptoms of HS caused gall stones. The GP did not share our concerns because Isaac’s bloodwork looked fine. He kept saying the word ‘virus’ and it made me more and more angry each time. We were not satisfied with this explanation, but because of the way the system is set up in the UK we could not get Isaac to a specialist without a GP referral.

By this time Isaac was missing a lot of school and the vomiting and stomach pain were persisting so we went back the GP for probably the 5th time that month. We saw a different GP and he agreed that an ultrasound of Ike’s abdomen would be prudent. To our dismay it came back completely clear. I say to our dismay because we were growing very concerned about our boy and very frustrated by the lack of answers. Life seemed to be on hold–he couldn’t go to school, we had to plan meals based on what would be least unappealing to regurgitate and it became hard to remember a time when Isaac wasn’t throwing up every single day, multiple times per day.

We were all fed up so Abe accompanied me to the GP again and this time we said we were not leaving without a referral to the hospital. He relented (but with the same breath said these words of infamy–”vomiting is really not a concern as long as he is staying hydrated”. I wish I was joking, but he actually spoke those words to which my sweet boy said, “what?!”). We left with a referral to the Paediatric Day Unit at the nearest hospital. The doctor we saw there was very kind and sympathetic but based on more bloodwork and the ultrasound scan he also didn’t feel it was related to the HS. He did, however, agree that the vomiting and pain were definitely a concern. We were sent home with a diagnosis of suspected acid reflux/gastritis and a hefty sized bottle of Ranitidine to hopefully alleviate the symptoms.

I felt emotionally torn after that afternoon in the hospital. My maternal instincts were pretty much screaming–this is not reflux. But then another part of me was thinking– “reflux is such a nice, tidy explanation for all of this” and “look, there is a drug for that!”. We can medicate him and all will be better. Life will return to normal and I was desperate for normal again.

It was around this time that we got word from my husband’s company that we would be repatriating over the summer. The timing of this news came right before the Easter holidays in the UK so went ahead with a planned trip to Somerset. After all of the stress of the last several weeks and knowing now that our time in England was indeed very short  we whisked the boys off for a much needed break from reality.

To my utter surprise the reflux medicine seemed to work. Isaac went from vomiting daily back to maybe once or twice per week. We all breathed a collective sigh of relief.

Isaac went back to school and life became normal again. We dutifully gave him the Rantidine 3 times per day and we tried to help him make wise food choices by steering clear of really heavy, greasy foods.

But then as suddenly as it stopped, in late April the vomiting started again. This time it was accompanied by headaches, dizziness, and episodes of going pale and feeling faint. We saw another GP who was by far the most sympathetic and understanding. She shared our concern and gave us a referral to see a hematologist. We felt optimistic after that appointment despite the fact that the appointment was over a week away and Isaac was clearly very ill. And then the letter came. The letter stated that the hematologist had cancelled our appointment and rescheduled it for June 8th. To say we were devastated and FURIOUS doesn’t even begin to cover it. The GP from whom the referral had come suggested that we just go to the A&E (emergency room) at the hospital where the hematologist was located. This way the staff would be forced to admit us and we would gain quick access to the hematology department.

The next morning Abe took Isaac into the A&E. He was promptly admitted to the Paediatric Ward. The doctor who cared for him ordered more bloodwork and did a comprehensive physical exam, other than a slightly elevated billirubin Isaac looked “fine”. He didn’t see the need for Ike to be seen by the hematologist. However, the doctor was very concerned about the headaches in particular so he suggested that we do an MRI scan of Isaac’s brain before we discuss other options such as a GI scope. When Abe called to tell me this I was mad. Really mad. I was so sure that it had to be related to the HS that I thought the MRI scan would be a total waste of time. On Monday, May 7th our little trooper had his MRI procedure. We were not expecting a quick turn around on those results based on previous experience so we called back the next day to see about going ahead and scheduling the GI procedure while we wait. I was informed that my message would be relayed to the doctor and he would return my call shortly.

I hadn’t heard back by the afternoon school run so I went to collect the boys and stop by the GPs office to get copies of Isaac’s latest bloodwork. I left the boys in the car while I briefly ran in to pick up the packet from the receptionist. When I got back to the car Connor handed me the phone and said “it’s Dad”. “Honey, the doctor just called…the MRI results came back and something has shown up on it. He wants us in Newcastle right away.” My husband does not show strong emotion very often, but I could hear the fear in his shaky voice.

I know it sounds so cliche but really it felt as if the world stopped momentarily. I could only replay those words in my mind…”MRI….something has shown up….Newcastle right away”. I began crying which upset the 3 older boys because they knew something was wrong, but I just didn’t have the strength to put on my brave face for them. So the 5 of us cried together as I drove home to gather up overnight bags and get the other boys settled in with a friend who was going to come and stay with them. Connor– my precious, mature Connor –sat down on the couch with his arm around Isaac and comforted his brother. I called and left the most upsetting message for my parents, I was nearly hysterical by that point so I can only imagine how difficult it was to understand.

Abe came in as I was kneeling on the floor packing a bag. As soon as I saw him I sobbed “no,no, no! anything….anything but this”. He just held me.

We arrived at the Great North Children’s Hospital that evening and met with Dr. Hale. And she said the words that we had hoped we would not hear. Isaac’s MRI revealed a small but definite mass in the cerebellum of his brain. Those words hung in the air only briefly as she then followed up with, “as you have already guessed, in this line of work we would call it a tumor”. It felt suffocating in that room–so warm that it was stifling–and with each word that Dr. Hale spoke it felt harder to take a full, deep breath of air into my lungs. She prepared us to expect surgery within a few days and a long hospital stay and recovery. It was our worst nightmare and it had suddenly become our reality.

Cheerful Isaac remained oblivious. He was busy making friends with the nurses and other patients on the Paediatric Neurology Ward. It was something new and exciting for him. It was decided that Abe would go home for the night and come back early in the morning for the follow-up MRI and meeting with the neurosurgeon.

I felt physically ill. I could not stop kissing my sweet boy’s head and praying that he would not have to suffer–let me suffer, let Abe suffer, but please do not let my 8 year old boy suffer. Praying that this was all just a bad dream…a misunderstanding. I felt afraid. I felt despair. I felt alone.

As I settled onto the pullout sofa/chair I opened my Bible and God began bringing to mind passages of Scripture that I knew from memory:

He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High
will abide in the shadow of the Almighty.
I will say to the Lord, “My refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I trust.”

(Psalm 91)

Whom have I in heaven but you?
    And there is nothing on earth that I desire besides you.

My flesh and my heart may fail,
    but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.

(Psalm 73:26)

fear not, for I am with you;
    be not dismayed, for I am your God;
I will strengthen you, I will help you,
    I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.

(Isaiah 41:10)

The Lord your God is in your midst,
    a mighty one who will save;
he will rejoice over you with gladness;
    he will quiet you by his love;
he will exult over you with loud singing.

(Zephaniah 3:17)

And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose.For those whom he foreknew he also predestined to be conformed to the image of his Son, in order that he might be the firstborn among many brothers. And those whom he predestined he also called, and those whom he called he also justified, and those whom he justified he also glorified.

(Romans 8:28-30)

As I read over these familiar passages I began to weep as I saw them in a different light. Suddenly they seemed so very real, so personal, as if they had been written just for me. I felt bare, empty, exposed and vulnerable. Sitting there beside my child’s hospital bed I felt that every false sense of security, comfort, and gurantee that this world has to offer had been stripped away. We were sitting in one of the best hospitals in all of Europe and yet it could offer me no lasting hope or any sure guarantees that my boy would ever walk out of those doors healthy and whole.

I came to the place where I considered the possibility that Isaac would have to suffer. I had to consider the possibility that he may not leave healthy–he may have long-term effects from an invasive operation on his delicate brain. I had to consider radiation therapy and chemo. My mind, my imagination and my heart even had to consider that Isaac may die. And there, there in those deepest, darkest corners of possibilities I was flooded with peace– overwhelming, inexplicable peace. I didn’t have peace because I knew that God would heal Isaac or make everything better. (Nothing from the doctor’s report and opinion would have given that indication at this point either.) I had peace because I knew with all of my being and all of my heart that even if He did NOT–even if we had to eventually say good-bye to our precious Ikey– my faith would continue to believe that God is real, He is good, He is faithful, He love us with an everlasting love, He is preparing a place for us and one day He will return and take us to be with Him in glory. I felt complete assurance that I could trust Him with Isaac’s health and future in those darkest places–that no matter what the future held I would still be okay. We would still be okay. And Isaac would still be okay because God would still be God.  

“Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen. “

(Hebrews 11:1)

To many that will sound like foolishness, but for our family that is the very foundation upon which we are basing our lives for we have discovered that it is the only foundation that will uphold us when all else crumbles. It is the very thing that sustained us amidst the dark, uncertainity and it is the very thing that gives us peace and hope as we navigate the unknown road ahead.

As many of you may already know, that unknown road ahead is filled with routine MRIs and close monitoring as we watch, wait and pray over the tumor. I will spare you the entire play by play of the week that Ike spent in the hospital at Newcastle and these subsquent months ( I have 5 kids and laundry is multiplying rapidly as I take the time to write even this much so….). But the short story is that the second MRI (this time with contrast dye injected into Isaac’s veins) that was conducted in the hospital in Newcastle revealed that the mass on Isaac’s cerebellum had very clear, defined edges so it is most likely a low-grade glioma non-malignant tumor. In the world of pediatric brain tumors this is great news. As long as Isaac continues to feel well and suffer no ill effects we can avoid any sort of invasive procedures on our sweet guy’s brain. We are now back in the States and he is under the care of an oncologist at St. Jude’s–again, great news and how blessed we are that there is an affiliate 20 minutes from our house!

So far all of the scans have shown no change or growth in the tumor. And the most incredible development of all is that Isaac’s symptoms have completely stopped. Just stopped. He occasionally has a headache or upset tummy but for now he is a happy, healthy 4th grader who, by the way, has already met his Accelerated Reading goal for the year of 100 points and has the highest record in all of 4th grade. To say that God has been gracious to our family would be the understatement of the century.

There is no medical explanation for why the symptoms would suddenly stop and not return for more than 5 months now. In fact, the doctors can’t even explain how a tumor of this size and location would have been causing Isaac’s symptoms in the first place. We spent 3 extra days in the hospital seeing GI doctors, hematologists, and neurologists. All of whom were completely stumped by Mr. Isaac.

So we have a non-malignant, slow-growing tumor caught early and now being monitored only because of these mystery symptoms that have now disappeared.

“Now to him who is able to do far more abundantly than all that we ask or think, according to the power at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, forever and ever. Amen.”

(Ephesians 3:20-21)

Yeah, needless to say, we don’t believe in coincidences.

To those of you who sent messages, cards, called us and most importantly prayed for us, thank you. Thank you so much. Our family is humbled and blessed by the love and concern that was shown for us. We felt very much carried to the feet of the Savior. God bless you. XOXO

Welcoming Luke

We were immensely blessed by the arrival of John Luke on September 9th. He arrived peacefully at home, surrounded in love. Many friends, and even a few strangers, have had questions about our plans for home birth. This isn’t surprising since less than 1% of birthing women in America give birth at home, which means I am officially part of the 1%–GASP! Home birth is, unfortunately, not the norm and therefore there is a lot of misunderstanding and misinformation. Let’s get two things out of the way right now–I am not a hippy—not even that “crunchy” really and we don’t plan to do anything weird with the placenta. (Okay, so it is in our freezer, which is probably a little weird but I plan to use it later in my midwifery studies.)

I love birth stories. I love reading them and I love writing them. I’m sharing Luke’s story because I think it is important, imperative even, that the birth paradigm in the United States shifts for the protection of mamas and babies. One of the ways this will happen is by allowing women to hear stories of normal, unhindered birth. Birth is meant to be raw, transforming--a natural physiological process.  Birth matters! 

When babies are born matters–are they forced out or allowed to gestate, as long they need based on biological and physiological design? Pregnant bellies do not actually have those handy little pop-up timers like a Thanksgiving turkey. The timing and start of labor is a delicate process and the more I learn about it, the more I am convinced that interfering with a perfectly healthy pregnancy simply because we think baby is “overdue” or because mom is tired of being pregnant is downright dangerous. The most widely accepted theory about what exactly triggers the start of labor is that baby releases a protein into the amniotic fluid at the point in which his lungs are developed and ready to breathe air. This protein then triggers the hormones in mom that control labor. Of course, the implication of messing with this delicate process for no apparent medical reason is that baby is not actually ready for the ardent process of labor and birth nor is he 100% ready for life outside the womb, all of which can lead to breathing difficulties for baby. This is why the March of Dimes has become an outspoken critic of the high elective induction rates in the US. Not so many years ago 38-42 weeks was the normal length of pregnancy and 40 weeks was simply seen as the average.

How babies are handled and treated after birth matters–are they taken from mom, their source of nourishment, warmth, and protection? Poked, prodded, scrubbed, etc. at the expense of crucial bonding time? I will never understand why things like weighing and measuring the baby or baby’s first bath is such an urgent matter in American hospitals. Ben was born in the midwife led unit of a hospital in England; shortly after he was born the 2 midwives who were in the room (the only people in the room other than me and Abe) left. They turned the lights down, they made sure Ben and I were skin to skin and doing well, and then left us alone to bond, breastfeed, and cuddle. He wasn’t weighed until nearly an hour after he was born and that was only after I was ready to do so. Abe and I also gave him his first bath several hours later. There is nothing…nothing…more important than ensuring that mom and baby are bonding and falling in love with each other and baby is breastfeeding during the first few hours after birth. Everything else can and should wait.

Birth matters for moms, too. Postpartum depression is reaching epidemic proportions. And according to Amnesty International it is now more dangerous for a woman in America to give birth than it is for women in 49 other countries in the world. She is also at a greater risk of complications, injury, and even death than her mother was decades ago. A woman’s birth experience will directly affect her feeding choice. Breastfeeding rates are dismally low in the United States despite the plethora of scientific evidence (makes me laugh that as a society we would even need to study the benefits of breastfeeding….millions of babies not only surviving but thriving on it as their only source of food for millions or thousands of years depending on your theology apparently isn’t evidence enough…) that says it is best for babies. The benefits include lower rates of obesity, diabetes, cancer, and asthma (just to name a few), higher IQ, fewer ear infections and digestive issues, etc. I experienced the breakdown of a breastfeeding relationship with my first due to a very intervention riddled birth and postpartum experience. It was emotionally heart wrenching to have to give up that desire to breastfeed because of things that had happened during labor and immediately after his birth. Yet hospital policy continues to persist in undermining that initial bonding period which is so critical to the establishment of a breastfeeding relationship.

Luke’s birth story was really being written over the course of the last 11 years and the birth experiences I had with his 4 brothers. The first three medicated hospital births with all of the interventions that private insurance could buy left me feeling disempowered and empty. I felt like the whole process had been so medical and phony as if I wasn’t even a necessary participant in the process, just a bystander doing what everyone in the room told me to do. “Put your legs here.” “Push until I get to 10.” “Keep it coming.” “Chin to your chest.”  And then suddenly a baby appears and I am expected to know exactly what to do, all on my own with no one coaching or directing me. This was especially distressing with my first baby. If I can’t give birth without help, then surely you can’t expect me to care for and keep this baby alive without your help. Isn’t that task also potentially dangerous like the birth, with the possibility of a medical emergency looming at any given moment?! With the 2^nd and 3^rd I just accepted that this is how things are done so let’s get it over with and get back home as soon as we possibly can.

And then we moved to England where I encountered the midwifery model of care. “What do you mean you don’t “deliver” babies only “catch” them? Who is going to deliver this child from my body then?” I began to devour books, research articles, blogs, birth stories because I was so convinced that the backward, archaic National Health Service of England couldn’t possibly be better at birth than the best healthcare system in the world—the US. Wellllll. Turns out I was in less danger giving birth under the NHS than I was in an American institution. That was a humbling discovery. And the more I read and researched and learned the more I was convinced that God surely knows what He is doing when it comes to pregnancy and childbirth. I learned about the incredible anatomy and physiology of a woman’s body, how it works to create, grow, birth and then nourish another human being. I studied the amazing mechanics of birth, how a mom’s body and her baby work together in this beautiful dance called labor. I began to trust God’s design for birth– my body, my baby, and the process itself was designed to work! (That’s Gensis 3 and Psalm 127 if you need some Biblical evidence.) Would it hurt? Of course, there’s a baby coming out of my body! But I had experienced 3 painless labors and births thanks to stellar epidurals and I was more than happy to exchange a few hours of physical pain for the days, weeks, and even months of emotional and psychological pain that I had felt, particularly after Connor’s birth.

Ben was born after an intense 2-hour labor. I was 5 days past my “due” date, but when he decided to come he decided to come. Contractions were immediately 2 minutes apart and serious. I labored upright, leaning on Abe for support. I had read about the fetal ejection reflex and was fascinated by it since my other births required someone to tell me to push because I was completely numb. Well after experiencing it, I am not just fascinated by it I am completely awed by it. Forty-five minutes after arriving at the hospital my body took over and began pushing.  Five minutes later Benjamin was in my arms. Abe and I joke that Ben arrived fast and furious and hasn’t really slowed down since. I’m not going lie, I felt like I could do anything in that moment. For the first time I loved and appreciated my body—it did not need any help or outside influence to birth my baby. It just needed to be left alone to accomplish what the Creator intended for it to do—grow and birth babies.

Discovering that I was pregnant with Luke about 18 months after Ben was born was an unexpected blessing. At the time we were still living in England but it was looking like we would probably be repatriating in a few months. I knew right away that I could never give birth in a US hospital again if my pregnancy was low-risk after my wonderful experience with Ben’s birth. It would be very, very difficult to get the birth experience that I wanted in a hospital in the US, so right away I knew that I wanted a home birth. Abe was very supportive of my desire to birth at home once he was assured that the midwife and her assistant would take care of all of the “mess”. J

My pregnancy was entirely uneventful. We had made the decision not to have the typical 20 weeks ultrasound or any of the fancy 4D scans after reading some studies on the uncertainty surrounding the safety of shooting sound waves at a developing baby (see Dr. Sarah Buckley’s articles). I am so glad we did not opt to “peek” at our baby, it made bonding so much sweeter as it felt much more like meeting him for the first time. My estimated due date based on my cycle and conception date was September 11^th. I was fully expecting to go past this date.

Early labor began around the 38 weeks mark. I would have periods of regular, but not painful contractions that would last for several hours. Prodromal labor often makes for a much quicker, easier “real” labor but it sure messes with your head! On multiple occasions I thought this could be “it” only for the contractions to stop. Around this time I had flu like symptoms, bloody show, and persistent backache. 

And then on September 8^th they just stopped. I felt great that day, both physically and emotionally, and all signs of impending labor disappeared which made me even more certain that our baby would not be arriving for several more days. We enjoyed a lazy Saturday with the boys, enjoyed a yummy dinner, and played a fun guessing game with baby’s arrival date, gender, weight and length. After putting the boys to bed Abe and I went upstairs intending to help things along (wink, wink) but within a few minutes of getting into bed I felt this strange sensation—almost like a tearing rather than popping—and a warm trickle. I instinctively looked at the clock—10:30 p.m. In disbelief I announce, “um, I think my water just broke”. I scooted over to the edge of the bed and stood up still not believing my water had actually broken. As soon as I am upright a decent amount of clear fluid started running down my legs. Abe, in the way that only Abe can, remarked, “Man, I’m good!”

After saying “Oh. My. Gosh.” several times I had the clarity of mind to ask for a towel and my bathrobe. I would never have guessed that my water would break before labor started. In my hospital births it was always broken artificially by the doctor and with Ben it broke seconds before he was born so I had just assumed that as long as it wasn’t messed with it would probably stay intact for the duration of labor this time around, too.

We went downstairs so that I could call the midwife and let her know what was happening. (Another Abe moment—upon reaching the kitchen he put the kettle on the stove to boil and remarked about how English he is, “Oh, something is happening, put the kettle on!” It made me laugh and wish that our English friends were closer to share in the joy of welcoming another precious blessing. ) Our lovely midwife encouraged us to rest and call her when contractions started. So we turned the kettle off and tried to get some rest. I’m pretty sure Abe fell asleep in like 10 seconds flat, but I was still in disbelief and my back was aching so I got up and sat on my birth ball to see if that helped. Not long after getting up I felt the first slightest little twinge.  Abe got up with me to keep me company. Ironically, I had just installed the free contraction monitor app on my iPod about an hour before we had gone to bed the first time so I got it out just for grins still not thinking labor would start right away. The first contraction we timed was at 11:36 and it lasted only 30 seconds. I had 2 more contractions of similar length and intensity at about 2 minutes apart. The next one was different. It lasted just over a minute and required my attention. From this point on the contractions were 1-2 minutes apart and lasting over a minute. Abe gently suggested we go ahead and call the midwife back since she has young children and a 30-minute drive to our house, but I was reluctant at that point. I was afraid they would stop and we would have gotten her out of bed for nothing. After a few more contractions he again suggested that we call her and at least let her know what is going on. I knew he was right, but for some reason I needed a little bit longer before I was ready to acknowledge that we were having a baby that night. After some quiet affirmations to myself (Isaiah 41:10) I called the midwife and explained my contraction pattern to her and she said they would come right over.

I continued to labor gently and peacefully in between many trips to the bathroom. I found that the toilet was my favorite place to labor—another surprise since I could do nothing but stand during Ben’s labor—so I wasn’t upset about my bladders frequent insistence that I go there. Around 12:15 a.m. there was a clear change in my contractions and I had my first really intense one. I felt the baby move down substantially during that contraction and the absolute power of it made me cry out for Abe who was busy getting our birth supplies out and turning his kettle back on (ha!). He came running in and I sobbed, “It’s happening too fast, I can’t do this.” Um, transition, anyone? I totally recognized the emotional markers of the transition phase and felt excited and strengthened by the knowledge that I was already in the latter stages of dilation and soon I would have my baby in my arms.

At this point I lost all sense of time. I just had to go inward and really focus on breathing and relaxing through each surge. I do know from my midwife’s notes that her assistant arrived around 12:30 a.m. and she arrived around 12:40 a.m.

I had a hard time finding a comfortable laboring position. I tried hands and knees, side lying, squatting, standing, sitting on my ball, but the only position that brought any sort of relief was sitting on the toilet when I had to use the bathroom. For some reason it never occurred to me to just stay there. Maybe it was pride? Knowing that I would want to share the birth story and deep down I didn’t want to have to admit that I had labored on the toilet. Little did I know…

So I kept trying to get comfortable in our bedroom. At some point I mumbled “Thank God for breaks between contractions.” And then later “So much pressure with a broken bag of water.” The room was dark and quiet and other than agreeing with whatever I said and intermittently listening to baby’s heart tones no one bothered me, they just let me work with my body. I’m not sure of the time but after laboring for a little while the pressure became intense. I assumed this meant time to push even though I wasn’t feeling the same powerful, involuntary urge that I had felt during Ben’s labor. But I started bearing down anyway. And nothing happened. Nothing. Baby wasn’t budging and I was getting super frustrated and starting to wonder if something was wrong. I am good at pushing, even my first only took 45 minutes and that was with an epidural and the stupid lithotomy position! So why was this baby not moving? I began to panic a bit. Was baby stuck? In a bad position?

I needed some reassurance so I asked the midwife to check me. I was completely dilated but had an anterior lip on my cervix that was preventing baby from entering the birth canal. I tried pushing while she held the lip back but that hurt far too much. It was time for me to mentally regroup. I reminded myself that my body will know when to push and it will do most of the work for me so I refocused my attention on breathing and relaxing through the contractions. Then I remembered the toilet. “Can I try sitting on the toilet to get rid of the lip?” Everyone agreed it was a GREAT idea so off I waddled. Abe decided this would be a good opportunity to run downstairs quickly. (Sigh.)

I sat down, had a contraction, and felt baby move down. I must have said, “Baby is coming!” because the midwife’s assistant begins calling to Abe to come back quickly. And then that fetal ejection reflex showed up. As soon as I felt my body take over I stood up, intending to try and get back down the hallway to the bedroom. The plan was for Abe to catch his baby but he was missing and I was standing over the toilet—NOT how things happened in ANY of my birth fantasies!

Right away it became clear that baby was not waiting for Daddy to catch or for me to get to a more “dignified” place of birth so I gave into the overwhelming power and began to push with my body. Pushing is by far the most intense part of labor for me. I handle everything pretty well but when that baby starts down the birth canal I always temporarily lose my wits (mild understatement right there). I managed to hear the midwife say something along the lines of “Slow down, stretch, stretch” so I tried to just breathe for a minute. “Is the head out?!” Please, please tell me the head is out. “Yes” she tells me with a smile (loved her calm presence). And then my body pushes again and out comes a beautiful pink baby with lots of gorgeous dark hair. The midwife immediately handed baby to me and as I am lifting baby up to my chest I glance and see that we have another son. I laugh and announce, “it’s a BOY!” Thankfully Abe had made it upstairs just in time to see his fifth son enter the world, but unfortunately not in time to catch him. Maybe next time, Abe? 

John Luke was born at exactly 2:00 a.m. After a few minutes of admiring him we made our way back to the bedroom where he immediately started nursing. We let his cord stop pulsating before cutting it. My babies always have short cords so I didn’t want to wait for the placenta before cutting it, but he got all of his cord blood. Time was still a blur since I had a precious baby boy to love on but I think it only took 15-20 minutes for the placenta to come. I love the placenta; it is an amazing organ! The midwife showed it to us and pointed out some of the features of my complete and very healthy looking placenta.

I had the least amount of bleeding this time around than with any of my other births. Within an hour of having Luke I was in the shower washing off a bit. I had no dizziness or vomiting as I had had with my first 3 births. I felt good.

The midwife and her assistant stayed for 2 hours after the birth, during which we weighed and measured the little guy  (8 pounds 12 ounces/ 2o inches long/14.5 in. head circumference) and he had his newborn exam. They also cleaned up the “mess” (much to Abe’s relief), helped me shower and get settled into bed with a big glass of orange juice and my nursing babe, and monitored my vital signs as well as Luke’s.

We didn’t really sleep much after they had gone. I was so excited for the boys to wake up and surprise them with their new baby brother. Around 6:30 a.m. we heard stirring in Eli and Ben’s room, which is right across the hall from our bedroom. Luke started crying and suddenly the door to their bedroom burst open and two blonde headed boys come running into our room. I really can’t even begin to describe how precious this moment was—Ben was thoroughly amazed and slightly bewildered. I had to show him my flatter tummy and attempt to explain that the baby came out of my tummy. Eli was just thrilled—thrilled to have another brother, thrilled to have won the guessing game, thrilled to be able to go wake up Connor and Isaac and tell them the news, thrilled to cuddle up in bed with me and baby Luke, and thrilled to get celebratory donuts! Connor and Isaac were equally as thrilled. Connor couldn’t believe that I had had a baby and he never heard anything. Isaac just said “Oh my gosh, you had a baby!” Yep, that is pretty much what I was thinking, too.

Our home birth experience was so wonderful. It exceeded all of our expectations. It was healing for me; I feel like I have come full circle with my birth experiences. And while I wish that natural birth and home birth had been on my radar much sooner, I also realize that this journey has been one of learning and growth. Each experience taught me something about myself and drove me to keep searching for a different, better experience. I have witnessed the full spectrum of birth and my prayer is that one day that makes me a better, more compassionate birth attendant.

The result of all five of my births has been a beautiful, healthy baby boy and for that I am so very thankful. However, I can see a striking difference in my physical and emotional recovery as well as the bonding and attachment process with my last two births. It was hard, there was pain involved, but I did it. I’ve never run a marathon, but I’m guessing natural childbirth has some parallels with running a marathon. Both push your body and mind to the upper limit, both require a lot of determination and preparation, and when finished both provide an enormous sense of accomplishment and awe at the pure strength and capability of the human body. The best news for me is that there is now no reason for me to ever feel inclined to run a marathon. I’ve given birth without drugs; I’m good, thanks.

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letter to younger, pregnant self

i am swiftly approaching the end of my 5th pregnancy. it has been different on so many levels. mainly this is due to my own change of heart and the inability to ignore all that I have learned in my reading and research. as i was practicing my relaxation and preparing for the impending labor and birth i began to reflect on how differently things could have gone had i known then what i know now. so i decided to blog it as a way to preserve my thoughts for the future.

for those reading, this is by no means intended to condemn anyone for making different decisions or having a different belief than i do. i’ve been there–feeling condemned–and it isn’t pleasant. this is simply me writing down my own personal journey in the hope that it encourages and/or informs other women who may be on a similar journey. please, please note that this letter is to myself–ME–not you. your birth is yours–own it and take responsibility for the decisions you made and/or will make. be confident, stop reading what i am not saying, and stop taking everything as an insult to or indictment on your own experience. we are not rivals, this is not a competition. we are mature, strong women and mothers– let’s sincerely support one another’s right to choose how, where, and with whom to give birth. 

dear first time pregnant self,

if i could go back and tell you a few things i’d start with these:

1. do not believe the myth that pregnancy is a disease and ALL births are an emergency. your body was created and designed to gestate and birth babies safely and efficiently without unnecessary intervention.

2. theology matters. it is hypocritical for you to say that you believe in a Creator God who is ultimately good and just and whose timing is always perfect and then give Him no space to influence and guide the decisions you make regarding how and when your baby is born. you have been given a blessing to be fruitful and multiply (genesis 3), how then could you buy into the belief that to do so is inherently dangerous and needs to be managed by all of the medical technology the American medical system has to offer? do not compartmentalize–pregnancy, birth, and child-rearing are spiritual matters. pray, study the word, seek godly counsel–it really is THAT important.

3. do at least as much research regarding choosing the right care provider, birth location, and common procedures, tests, and interventions and their subsequent risks as you have done on strollers, swings, carseats, and various other baby “must-haves”.

4. do not underestimate how much this pregnancy and birth will affect your husband. he is an essential element to the entire process–from conception to breastfeeding–not an awkward bystander. do not allow the medical establishment to push him to the side, relegate him to the head of the bed, and ignore the reality that he has just as much physically and emotionally invested in this child as you do. you didn’t “do all the work”, that’s a lie. let him be your strength, your protection, and your support, he thrives in that place.

5. ask questions about every.single.thing. and don’t stop asking questions until you get complete answers. informed consent implies that someone is truthfully and transparently informing you from a non-biased position. a few questions to get you started: why do I need this test? what will it actually tell us? what are the side effects? is it 100% safe for my baby? have the potential risks/outcomes/benefits of this test/procedure been thoroughly and exhaustively studied? *what does the scientific research and evidence say on the matter? what are the risks/benefits to me and my baby of consenting to this test/procedure? what are the risks/benefits to me and my baby of declining this test/procedure? *if you only ask 1 question make it this one. fight for evidence based care for you and and your baby. and it will be a fight. the US is ranked 49th in maternal mortality rates. it is now more dangerous for us to  give birth than it was for our mother’s before us. and this is all despite the fact that the US spends more than any other country on maternity care. the problem is is that most of medical establishment is no longer practicing evidence-based care and women are dying. this should never be taken lightly.

6. do not consent to an induction unless there is clear evidence that the risks of leaving baby alone outweigh the risks of forcing baby out before he is ready. (oh, they didn’t mention the risks? do your own research ASAP and start asking the questions mentioned above.) one day when you are older and wiser you will find that much of the research indicates that baby’s release a protein into the amniotic fluid when their lungs are fully mature and ready for the outside world. it is this protein that most researchers believe triggers the beginning of labor. baby’s don’t understand ‘due dates’, they certainly have no concept of calendars or time (this lesson comes during the newborn stage), but what they do know is how and when to be born. your baby is not going to be a giant, there is most likely nothing wrong with your pelvis and if it really is urgent then the doctor won’t mind scheduling the induction right away–perhaps saturday at 9 a.m.? (fact: the majority of medical inductions and c-sections occur between 9-5 monday-friday. hmmm.) your baby is worth the wait and believe it or not–you WILL miss the discomfort of being heavily pregnant because it is the only time during the journey of motherhood where you have baby all to yourself and can be sure of his safety and comfort in your womb.

7. along the lines of induction, avoid pitocin at all costs unless it becomes absolutely medically necessary. (sorry to say that being “tired of being pregnant” and “anxious to meet this little one” are not good reasons.) devour the research on pitocin and how it interferes with the God designed hormone, oxytocin. Michel Odent–google him and read everything his brilliant, French self has to say about oxytocin and birth. artificial pitocin is not a suitable substitute for the love hormone of oxytocin and what you will discover after it’s too late is that bonding is forever altered by interfering with this beautiful Design. you are a big girl. wait on your baby and your body patiently, allow them the time and grace to work together in harmony.

8. read Dr. Sarah Buckley’s “Gentle Birth, Gentle Mothering”. just do it. now.

9. ignore 99.9% of the stupid advice and opinions you will hear. ignore your mom. ignore your grandma. ignore your high-strung best friend who thinks even the slightest sore throat requires a doctor’s visit and a course of amoxicillin. ignore the lady in the grocery store who tells you some horror story about how she would have died had her ob not saved her and her baby. and listen to your instincts. they are there for a reason. they will alert you of complications. they will also protect you from unnecessary interference.

10. do not fear the pain. respect it, embrace it, and work with it to birth your baby. do not buy into the culture’s lie that pain is the greatest thing to fear about birth. because you will find that while an epidural might dull the immediate pain of labor and birth, it can never dull the pain of feeling like you have not really bonded with your precious son. it can never dull the pain of being unable to establish a breastfeeding relationship because the two of you were so drugged that you slept for first 5 hours following birth. no, it will not dull the ache in your arms to nuzzle your baby close to your chest and feed him with the best nutrient possible. and it can never dull that ache in your heart that no one else seems to understand, that somehow you have missed out a great rite of passage, pain included–the passage from being a timid, insecure young woman into a strong, empowered mother who knows exactly how incredible her body is, how strong it is and how fearfully and wonderfully made it is.

11. get off the bed and off your back. that silly, humiliating position that you make you give birth in? yeah, it is physiologically speaking the worst possible position for birthing a baby. it makes your pelvis smaller and makes it harder to push your baby out. your doctor will be inconvenienced but don’t consent to that stupid position and those degrading stirrups.

12. just say no to an episiotomy. this won’t really even be an issue if you listen to number 11. your skin is stretchy because, well, God is smart. he knows what he is doing. trust him.

13. the fetal ejection reflex is real. and it’s incredible. wait for it and then spend the next, oh several decades, marveling at how powerful that god-given muscle–the uterus–really is. if the nurse tells you to hold your breath, put your chin on your chest, and push while she shouts numbers in your ear–you have 2 options: ignore her or go ahead and kick her, it might make you feel better.

14. fact: epidurals are derived from cocaine. the drug DOES cross the placental barrier and enters your vulnerable baby’s blood stream and it can do so at a higher rate than it enters your own blood stream. your epidural baby isn’t sleepy, he is drugged. oh the irony of spending 9 months watching your caffeine intake and eating healthy only to pump your newborn baby full of narcotics. again, you are a big girl. yes, it hurts. but it is only for a little while. you are strong and you can do this without drugs( as you will discover eventually). and with an epidural you will never truly appreciate the fetal ejection reflex (see number 13).

15. do your research on circumcision–the risks, the benefits, and what the actual procedure involves. and just fyi, newborn baby boys absolutely do feel pain, pinch his leg and see for yourself.

16. lock yourself away for the first few days after birth. do not have anyone and everyone over to ooh and ahh over your baby. they can wait a few days while you get to know your little one and process all that has happened in those previous few days. you will feel emotionally and physically better because of it. and if they don’t understand or respect your wishes they can wait for their invitation to baby’s first birthday party….or high school graduation if they are that disrespectful.

17. if things do go wrong as they are sometimes prone to do in this broken world, lean on God and your husband. be thankful that you live in a country where there is medical help for you and your baby. needing emergency birth services such as a hospital transfer or c-section does not in anyway undermine your convictions about birth being a normal, physiological process–it confirms them. there are always exceptions, but statistics support your belief that birth is safe. sometimes things do not go as planned, this is called life. sometimes driving a car ends in a crash (statistically it is more dangerous to drive to the hospital than give birth), but you certainly aren’t going to start walking everywhere “just to be safe” especially since you live in the Midwest of America.

18. you are not a failure. so you had an epidural. so you ended up formula feeding. so it took much longer to bond with your baby than you had planned it would. so you have a long list of regrets. you did the best you could with the information that you had at the time. the best thing you can do for yourself and your subsequent babies is learn from the experience and work on not repeating past mistakes. (in case you’re wondering, you do!) education is power. kiss your boy and tell him you’re sorry that you didn’t do things differently, but because of the experience you learned so much more than you ever could have without it and his brothers have reaped the immense benefit. this will delight him because his heart is a giving, compassionate one.

19. when some fool says these words to you (and it really is inevitable I’m afraid…)– ”why do you want to be a martyr”? smack them, hand them a copy of Fox’s Book of Martyrs, and tell them that giving birth without pain medication hardly makes you a martyr and to imply so is an absolute disgrace to the names of the many who have actually suffered and died for their belief in Jesus. and if you’re feeling really cheeky, follow-up with “besides, it just makes me an informed woman”.

20. last but not least, keep calm and hire a midwife. now.

And because I know you and will automatically think that I am just a stuck-up know-it-all, please by all means do your own research. Here are some of the places where I did mine:

http://www.wombecology.com/?pg=oxytocin

http://www.midwiferytoday.com/articles/firsthour.asp

http://www.sarahbuckley.com/epidurals-risks-and-concerns-for-mother-and-baby/

http://www.natural-pregnancy-mentor.com/epidural-side-effects.html

http://voices.yahoo.com/the-lie-edd-why-due-date-isnt-you-1958162.html

http://www.drmomma.org/2008/01/fetal-lungs-protein-release-triggers.html

PS I would never actually advocate physical violence. please don’t take yourself so seriously that you can’t accomodate a little tongue-in-cheek humor.

I like capitalism but I love breastfeeding more

Scientific evidence tells us that ‘breast is best’. A large portion of medical literature and studies are aimed at proving the benefits of breastfeeding for both mom and baby.

• Scientists at Durham University recently released study findings that conclude that the longer the pregnancy and breastfeeding period in mammals, the bigger the baby’s brain grows. These findings further reinforce the suggestion that breast feeding is best for brain development. (1)

• A recent study conducted by The Journal of Child Psychology and Psychiatry found that “mothers who feed their babies breast milk exclusively, as opposed to formula, are more likely to bond emotionally with their child during the first few months after delivery. The breastfeeding mothers surveyed for the study showed greater responses to their infant’s cry in brain regions related to caregiving behavior and empathy than mothers who relied upon formula as the baby’s main food source.” (2)

• Research published online July 21, 2011 in the European Respiratory Journal suggests that “feeding a baby on only breast milk and for up to 6 months after birth can reduce their risk of developing asthma-related symptoms in early childhood”. (3)

• Research conducted by Oxford University and the Institute for Social and Economic Research, Essex University, found that breastfed children perform better in school. “Test scores in reading, writing and mathematics for the children at ages five, seven, 11 and 14 revealed a statistically significant difference between those who had been breastfed as compared with those who had not.” (4)

And yet despite what these scientific findings tell society, breastfeeding rates remain dismally low across the industrialized world. According to the 2010 Breastfeeding Report Card conducted by the US CDC the most recent data shows that 3 out of 4 new mothers start out breastfeeding. However, by 3 months postpartum the percentage of babies still being exclusively breastfed is 33% and by 6 months the percentage is a mere 13.3%. (5)

Dr. Lawrence Gartner, MD, FAAP is a respected medical authority on infant feeding who has played a role in drafting policy statements for the American Academy of Pediatrics. “Sure, you can speak of the benefits of breast-feeding,” explains Dr. Gartner. “But it’s really just as accurate — maybe more accurate — to speak of the risks of formula-feeding. Unfortunately, the large volume of medical literature we now have that demonstrates this is written from the perspective of proving the ‘advantages’ of breast-feeding — as if formula-feeding were the gold standard. But when you read the literature the other way around — as it should be read, really — the results are rather startling.” (6)

So why does it seem that formula feeding is today’s gold standard, rather than a subpar alternative to breastfeeding? Essentially, no one stands to make a profit from breastfeeding. For the most part the richest gains from a well-established breastfeeding relationship belong to mom and her babe and they cannot be counted in financial terms.

In our society, it is money that talks. In 2007 the US infant formula market was estimated at $3.9 billion. The reality is formula companies have the power and money to advertise and market their product and they do so relentlessly. They give out material packs to women prenatally, in the hospital, and throughout a baby’s first year. While these packs may pay lip service to the ‘breast is best’ adage, they typically contain free samples and coupons. Advertisements on television and in parenting magazines contain pictures of cherub looking babies smiling or happily drink down bottles of formula.

This aggressive marketing campaign is conducted in clear violation of The International Code of Marketing of Breast-Milk Substitutes. The code was set out by the WHO and UNICEF in 1981 in order to “protect and promote breastfeeding, through the provision of adequate information on appropriate infant feeding and the regulation of the marketing of breast milk substitutes, bottles and teats. The Code prohibits the advertisement or promotion of these products to the general public or through the health care system.” (7)

One cannot underestimate the influence that this marketing by formula companies has on mothers. A study conducted by the Department of Pediatrics, University of Rochester School of Medicine concluded that “although breast-feeding initiation and long-term duration were not affected, exposure to formula promotion materials increased significantly breast-feeding cessation in the first 2 weeks. Additionally, among women with uncertain goals or breast-feeding goals of 12 weeks or less, exclusive, full, and overall breast-feeding duration were shortened. Educational materials about infant feeding should support unequivocally breast-feeding as optimal nutrition for infants; formula promotion products should be eliminated from prenatal settings.” (8)

And if it isn’t distressing enough that artificial feeding has become normalized in rich, Western societies to the detriment of the health of moms and babies, formula companies also market their products in poorer regions of the world where the choice between breast and bottle can literally be the choice between life and death of a child. Driven by profits they target countries with high birth rates and disrupt existing breastfeeding cultures through unethical methods of promoting their products, such as free samples for local hospitals and offers of gifts and sponsorship to influence health workers. The potential implications of this disruption, particularly in countries where there isn’t access to clean, safe drinking water is breath-taking. Even in America where the drinking water is relatively safe infant death due to complications from diarrhea is half as likely to happen in a breastfed infant as it is in its formula fed counterpart. (9) Furthermore, an artificially fed child in an impoverished country is also in exponentially greater danger of dying due to other factors such as poor sanitation conditions, limited access to healthcare services, illiterate parents making errors in the mixing of infant formula which may or may not have not been labeled clearly by the formula company in the first place, and severely limited financial resources which leads to parents intentionally “water” down the powdered milk in order to make it last longer. (10)

The bottom line is that formula companies benefit when women find breastfeeding difficult. Breast is certainly best, except for formula companies.

My little guy enjoying some good stuff on our holiday in Israel

(1)Durham University (2011, March 30). Mothers’ hard work pays off with big brains for their babies. ScienceDaily. Retrieved September 25, 2011, from http://www.sciencedaily.com­/releases/2011/03/110328151730.htm
(2)Wiley-Blackwell (2011, April 21). Breastfeeding tied to stronger maternal response to baby’s cry. ScienceDaily. Retrieved September 25, 2011, from http://www.sciencedaily.com­/releases/2011/04/110420111334.htm
(3)European Lung Foundation (2011, July 22). Breastfeeding may prevent asthma, research suggests. ScienceDaily. Retrieved September 25, 2011, from http://www.sciencedaily.com­/releases/2011/07/110721212452.htm
(4)University of Oxford (2011, March 17). Breastfed children do better at school, study suggests. ScienceDaily. Retrieved September 25, 2011, from http://www.sciencedaily.com­/releases/2011/03/110317141143.htm
(5)United States Center for Disease Control (2010). Breastfeeding Report Card –– United States, 2010. Retrieved September 25, 2011, fromhttp://www.cdc.gov/breastfeeding/pdf/BreastfeedingReportCard2010.pdf
(6)Salon Magazine (July 19, 1999). Formula for Disaster. Retrieved September 25, 2011, fromhttp://www.salon.com/life/feature/1999/07/19/formula/index.html
(7)UNICEF (1981). The International Code. Retrieved September 25, 2011, fromhttp://www.unicef.org/programme/breastfeeding/code.htm
(8)Department of Pediatrics, University of Rochester School of Medicine, New York, USA (2000). Office prenatal formula advertising and its effect on breast-feeding patterns. Retrieved September 25, 2011, from http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/10674597
(9)Briar Patch Magazine (September 1, 2011), From apple pie and mother’s milk to pop-tarts and formula
How will we feed the next generation?, Retrieved September 30, 2011, fromhttp://briarpatchmagazine.com/articles/view/from-apple-pie-and-mothers-milk-to-pop-tarts-and-formula
(10) Palmer, Gabrielle. The Politics of Breastfeeding. Pinter and Martin 2009.

the thing about boys

“boys are beyond the range of anybody’s sure understanding, at least when they are between the ages of 18 months and 90 years.” ~ james thurber

to say that raising four sons is an adventure is an understatement. boys are loud, rowdy, rough, dirty, clumsy, curious, fearless, competitive, reckless, assertive, and that is just for starters.

“of all the animals, the boy is the most unmanageable.” ~ the Greek philosopher, Plato

to some people boys are loud, obnoxious, destructive monsters (oh how i loathe that term for precious boys!) who deserve nothing less than a good wallop across the head. and while I would agree that there are instances when they would indeed benefit from a good wallop, it concerns me that our culture on a whole has this idea that boys need to be tamed and controlled. boys are expected to fit into society’s neat little box of how children should behave at all times for the sake of peace and quiet. we need look no further than the public education system. from the age of 5 boys are trained to sit still, be quiet, use an indoor voice, play gentle games, don’t touch, do worksheets, recite what we tell them. when i home schooled our boys it was almost comical to watch their posture if we were doing an activity or lesson that was clearly uninteresting to them. it would start with a fidgety foot shaking innocently enough. before long the chair would begin to move ever so slightly. within minutes this mysterious creature that i am certain fully resembled a human male child just 5 minutes ago is now a convulsing, gyrating heap on a precariously tipsy chair. i would simply make a mental note of this and resolve to never discuss animal niches or adverbs or fractions in the same way again.

there is a saying, “Boys will be boys”. i don’t like when this saying is used to excuse outrageous misbehavior (i.e. bullying, disrespecting authority), however, i think when applied correctly it is absolutely true. consider if there is a mud puddle, a boy WILL make sure that at least one of his feet firmly steps into said mud puddle. if there is a tree to climb, rest assured he WILL climb it without any thought about how he will come back down when the adventure is over. if there is any inanimate object within his reach he will pretend that it is a gun or sword and pretend to fight and/or kill someone (gasp!). if there is fire he WILL throw sticks, garbage, leaves, stones, or anything else he can get his dirty (but sweet) hands on, into the fire all the while staring at the orange and yellow flames in complete enchantment, awe and respect.

earlier generations had no problem acknowledging that there are unique differences between boys and girls. Boys have a tendency to risk life and limb…for no good reason. it starts early. if there is something to be climbed, my 1 year old benjamin WILL climb it. he will eat anything and everything first and ask questions later. he splashes in the toilet, he chases the dogs, he stomps in puddles, he rakes his chubby fingers through dirt, he watches birds with a gleam in his eye and he shrieks with delight at the sight of an insect. boys love to take risk, especially if it provides an opportunity to impress his friends and get dirty.

girls on the other hand (or so i am told as i have zero experience raising them) tend to think more about the risk and potential dangers of certain behaviors and activities. such as, when riding bikes girls tend to brake sooner and gentler (this is still true today of me driving a car vs. my husband driving a car….). a girl will also usually react more negatively to pain and tend to not repeat the same mistake twice. i believe this is called common sense; it’s something that boys obtain later in their development. 

i’ve been a mom to boys for ten years now and i can say without hesitation that one of my very favorite things about boys is that while they have this tough, macho, and sometimes abrasive outside shell, inside they are nothing but a soft, gentle, loving lump of goo. i believe that boys and men have a God-given internal instinct to fight for justice, to protect and defend the weak, to explore their world, and to get their hands as dirty as possible in the process. i see this instinct in my 10 year old son when he comes home sad and upset because he saw an autistic classmate at school being teased and tormented by school bullies. i see this instinct in my 7 year old when he shows great concern for his baby brother who has just fallen and injured himself.

as i ponder these attributes, i find them absolutely endearing. nothing makes my heart smile more than to see my boys with the freedom to be who they were created to be. nothing fills my heart with love and affection and (dare I say it?) attraction for my husband more than to see him with the freedom to be the man he was created to be.

yet our culture emasculates men and i hate it. was extreme feminism the cause? certainly in part, yes. it may have been unintended but in my opinion it has been the single greatest negative impact of feminism. men can’t seem to do anything right these days–they are either too macho or too feminine, too successful or too lazy, too intellectual or too emotional, too strong or too weak. it seems the line has been blurred and what was once considered gentlemanly behavior–opening the car door, pulling out your chair, offering you his seat, helping you with your shopping bags–can now often be depicted as patronizing or chauvinistic. some women want to be wooed by a man, some find the thought offensive. some women prefer a strong, masculine man, some women prefer a man who is just like them….except a man. What confusing, muddled waters for men to have to navigate. they are damned if they do, damned if they don’t.

it grieves me–no really–it grieves my heart to think that my boys will be shamed for behaving like boys. i hate that some mothers of boys talk about what “terrors” or “monsters” their sons are. give those boys a creative outlet–turn them loose with a pocket knife and cardboard, take them to the woods, stop by the creek, let them make a mud puddle in the back yard (and do not complain about the mess), grab a spade and go to the beach, give them a special job or treasure hunt, buy them that toy sword or gun so they can fight the bad guys. never, never shame them because they love doing these sort of things. love them, play with them, enjoy them, teach them and help them to grow from being rowdy, impulsive boys to strong, principled men.

future generations of women are depending on you.

here are some shots of my boys being boys  :