It never goes as planned

 Here's how it al went down.

Emmylou Marie Gray

(Her first big adventure)

Now I feel it only appropriate that I begin this story with my expectations. Anticipating the birth, I did what nearly all expectant mommas do, I read books, talked to veteran moms, talked to my own mom, asked the OB questions.... I was prepared. But also like all first time expecting mommas, no I wasn't. I wasn't at all prepared. My mindset going into labor was not at all dreamy. I never thought I would have the two hour labor, or that "I didn't even know I was having contractions" kind of labor. I didn't even really anticipate a normal delivery. Just like everything else in my life, I figured something weird would happen... like I would go into labor at the beach and have to manage my pain laying in the back of the wagon while Zach and I fight about if we need a police escort to get us through all of the dad gum LA traffic. But I guess I just imagined laboring at home for a decent chunk of change, maybe while listening to music, watching tv or something while sitting on the giant yoga ball. Maybe taking a hot shower to get my mind off things and then going for one last walk before our hospital run. Then, once we were at the hospital, I was hoping to spend as little time as possible there, and going in after it was too late for the epideral (to minimize any temptation of getting one), then pushing that baby out with my deep, low, pregnancy song.

(on our way to the hospital)

But in reality, it all started with a cockroach. And I feel like that's important, because that is JUST the type of "weird" thing I was anticipating. Awakened from a dead sleep, I see Zach sitting up in bed looking around frantically. By the time I ask him what's going on, he has the lamp turned on. And there, on our wall, was the giant cockroach that Zach had just felt crawling on his arm and in a gut reaction, threw. (Do not fear, this prompted a contacting of the landlord and all other cockroaches have been dealt with). He promptly got up and took care of the situation while I decided that I should celebrate such an exciting event by using the restroom. This was when I noticed, at 2 in the morning, a teensy weensy bit of not urine leaving my body and very briefly the thought crossed my mind- hmmmm.... I wonder if that was my water breaking.

But it couldn't be. I mean if Hollywood has taught us anything, it's that when your water breaks, it is like a giant galloon size water balloon popping (unless, of course, if you are Rachel off friends whose water breaks and she can still wear the same skirt to the hospital). Plus, if you had known all that we had done to try and get this baby to come... I mean, I knew better than to give myself such a false hope. My family had come on May 31 and we spent the days leading up to her birth walking an average of 8 miles a day. We went to Balboa Island, to New Port, to Santa Monica, to Big Bear, to hike Heart Rock, to hike Rubidoux, to tour redlands on foot, to Market Night, to the movies, to the Dodgers game, and when all that failed, we had a day of rest. Nothing was working. Spicy foods, nope. Egg plant parmesan, nope. Pressure point massage, nope. Swimming, nope. I didn't know what else to do. But ironically, when it did happen, I didn't believe it was happening.

So back to the bathroom break- I decided to write it off and go back to sleep. Only, when I laid back down, I started to cramp. After about 4-5 cramps, I told Zach about what had happened and to put my mind at rest, I decided to call L&D. They seemed less than worried and said that the only reason I would need to come in is if 1. I was excreting bright red blood 2. I couldn't feel the baby moving or 3. I was excreting liquid. So I told her about the liquid and she said that was something that would have to be diagnosed in person, not over the phone. Well, I feel like I need to remind you that it was 2 am so, this little lady was more worried about her sleep than her slight cramping.

But in the excitement of the roach and the possibility of having a baby that day (yeah right), Zach and I were sleepless in Seattle, in Loma Linda. Zach read his book in the living room while I laid on the couch and counted the minutes separating my contractions. 6 minutes. They were 6 minutes apart. Now during this time, I switched positions a few times and each time, that tiny amount of liquid would make an appearance again. Around 5 am, Zach decided to go sleep again and I followed suit 30 minutes later with a nap. Come 7 am, I woke up and went to the bathroom to find a larger amount of liquid had escaped. I suppose with the 2 extra hours of sleep under my belt, I felt more rested and decided to make the second call to L&D. They let me know that I definitely needed to come in and be checked and if it was in fact my amniotic fluid, I would admitted. If it wasn't, I would potentially be admitted but there was a chance I would not.

All I could hear was "no more eating after this point." So, I did what I would expect anyone in my shoes to do: I had my mom run out and get me a chikfila biscuit. When she returned and my belly was filled, we walked over to the hospital, rollin' deep. Our crew of four nearly filled up the L&D waiting room and so I was REALLY hoping that we wouldn't be sent home, solely because of how silly we would look for a false alarm. But it wasn't a false alarm. We were staying.

I will say that the nurses weren't thrilled that I had been in labor for 8 hours already without coming in. But, I'm gonna go ahead and throw my "first time mom" card out there and say that my fear of fasting definitely kept me at home. Anyway, the cytoteck started immediately. After four hours, nothing had changed. I was still only two centimeters (the dilation that I had when I had been admitted). They started the second dose with little optimism and if I remember correctly, we started the pitocin earlier than the end of the second set of four hours. Now if any of you heard my "plan" for laboring, you'll remember how reluctant I was to go on pitocin. At this point, I had already been stripped of laboring at home, AND of laboring in ways other than laying in bed (because of my early water breaking, I was restricted to the bed for fear of my umbilical cord slipping out). So this was number 3 on the list of things I didn't want to happen happening- a pitocin jump start. Well, it turned out to be far more than a jump start. The pitocin started around 15 hours into labor and they just kept cranking that baby up until the actual baby came....24 hours later.

The nurses kept coming in and asking how my pain level was and I kept saying fine because I wanted natural. Now, I say "nurses" because my labor outlasted 6 nurses. Praise Jesus, our last nurse was fantastic and we had her for 12 hours straight, but the one during the night shift was less compassionate and laughed when I told her that I wanted no pain meds. At one point in the night, she looked at me and said "you're already on a pretty high dose of pitocin but I'm gonna turn it up. So hang on, because it's about to get real." And she was right, a few hours into that level of pitocin, my back was hurting me so badly that I fought off tears with each contraction. I had to swallow my pride and look that same nurse in the face and let her know she was right. The pain was too much and I needed an epidural. This was 31 hours into it and as much as I didn't want to do an epidural, there is no way I could have lasted eight more hours with the state my back was in. (If you're keeping track, that is number 4 on the list of do not wants).

Well, as you guys know, we are at a teaching hospital. So when the doctor came in and asked me if I was okay if a resident did the epidural, I said yes knowing good and well that when his time comes, Zach will also need willing patients. If I wish compliant patients for him, I feel it only right that I live up to my own standards. Well... that might have been a mistake. If you've never had an epidural, let me paint you the picture. I am leaning over a table (keep in mind i'm HUGE... so, the table is digging into my belly), holding onto Zach who is trying to steady me (so, he is pulling me into the table as a result). The doctor says "if you feel a contraction coming on, let us know." "Oh gosh, I didn't even think of that" I thought, "good thing they have a plan in order for such a scenario." And then the teaching began. The slow, trudging, ever detailed teaching.

 "Ok, first you want to feel her spine and locate the proper positioning. Do you feel right here? So this is where you want to insert the needle." -Doc
"Ummm, alright... I'm feeling a little bit of resistance. Is it supposed to feel like that?" Resident
"Go ahead and push through that" Doc
(Struggling harder than what's usually necessary) Resident
"Hold on, let me feel. No, that's not right. Let's start over"

I mean, are you FEELING my blood pressure rising! Get that freaking needle in me!!!! I can't be entirely sure how long the ordeal was, but I can tell you that the amount of time was long enough for me to have 6 contractions from start to finish. Oh, and there was zero plan implemented. The first contraction came and I told the doctor "oh, here comes a contraction" to which he replied "ok, don't move." DON'T MOVE! THAT was the big plan. Clearly this was not a female doctor.

Now once the epidural was in place, my luck or lack there of, continued. It only took to one side and so everything on my right hand side was still kicking. I didn't mind it so much though because even with half of the pain diminished, the alleviation was great! I was finally able to get some sleep! The sleep didn't last long though and two or three hours after the epidural, Emmylou and my heart rate went up. The nurse made note of this and checked my temperature. She said if I had a temperature, we would have hit the 3 for 3 jackpot of the signs of choreo (an intra-uteran infection that is an automatic pass for the baby to stay in the hospital for 7 days on antibiotics). But my temp was good. And remained so for about the next hour. Then we hit the jackpot, and I got the pleasure of laboring the next 5 hours with an ice pack between the legs and under the arm pits. Oh, and I forgot to mention that Emmylou had been decel-ing each contraction leading up to this and so they had me laboring on my side.... for over 8 hours! Oh and double Oh! I ALSO forgot to say that apparently a side affect of an epidural can be getting the shakes. Well, I am certainly not about to let a negative side affect go by me. By golly, if I'm gonna have a rough delivery, it's gonna be the MOST rough delivery apparently. I lay for the remainder of my time in the delivery room nearly convulsing on the bed. Zach would try and hold me still, they kept piling blankets on me, I think I even scared Zach's little sister out of ever having kids. Thankfully, the Lord has allowed me to forgot a lot of my pregnancy, although not evident by the length of this blog, but I do remember spending most of my time after the epidural focused solely on keeping my body still. It was rather ridiculous.

A little over 37 hours into this ordeal... and believe me, it had turned into an ordeal, the doctors came in to have the conversation we were hoping wouldn't have to happen. They said that if nothing had changed in the next hour and a half, we would have to start talking about a c section. Which, at that point, was absolutely believable, since it had been inching up to forty hours of my water being broken and little miss stubborn as her mom over here wouldn't drop past a -1. Plus, for the last ten hours or so, the right side of my cervix wouldn't efface past 90% and I couldn't seem to break 9 cm. Another hour went by and the doc came in to check me, I had no progress. I looked over at Zach who had his hand on me and his eyes closed. He didn't have to be speaking out loud for me to know that he was praying over me and our little girl. I asked mom and Dad to join us in praying over my body and Emmylou. It was a very precious sight and a great way to enter into the next phase. Thirty minutes later a new doctor came in to check me and she told us exactly what we wanted to hear... 10 cm, 100% effaced, and Emmylou was at a +1. As we were celebrating, the excellent nurse slipped out of the room on a hunch of suspicion. Since a lot of the measuring is dependent on the doctor, she wanted to make sure that there was not lack of fluidity in the measuring. The previous doctor came in shortly after and told us the measuring hadn't in fact changed; she was at a -1, I was only 90%, but I had climbed to a 9.5. Before we declared it a c section though, the doctor was kind enough to let me do a hail mary push. With her hands inside of me, as she tried to work the part of the cervix that was not totally effaced over Emmylou's head, I gave it 2 or 3 pushes. No luck. They were calling it a c section. Zach looks at me and says "Are you okay with this?" and I said, "to quote the great Sir Lancelot (the husband of the dear friend I student taught under) 'It is what it is'." This made mom laugh which was my intention: to lighten the mood on this EXTREMELY long day.

So, they wheeled me out, Zach scrubbed in, and with an hour and half until mom and dad absolutely HAD to leave to make it to their flight, we were in business.

It was weird though. As my arms got strapped down to the operating table and the curtain went up, I looked around at the sterile while room and the team of 12+ all in blue backward jacket things and thought "huh. this was not how I expected Emmylou to come into the world. My inner Chandler Bing kicked in as I started making jokes with the assistants or residents or whoever, in hopes to get my mind off of reality and also from wondering where Zach was. When he did come in, my shaking had gotten so bad that I was boarder line having lock jaw. He sat there massaging my jaw as the show began. I mean what do you do in that situation? Where are your eyes supposed to be... on the curtain? Staring straight at your husband trying to see what's going on through the reflection of the black part of his eye but also kinda feeling you're interrogating him? Trying to determine what part of the surgery the surgeons are act by using their motions as some sort of charades game? I don't know... this is my first time playing too? So I looked all around while trying really REALLY hard to stop my convulsing lest I get another scar like the one of my knee. Then I looked over at Zach and the first thing I noticed was the boy's face mask was sopping wet! I mean you could wring it out. I gave him a puzzling look and he just turned to me and whispered... "I just saw her."

And that was it. Everything was suddenly fine. It didn't matter the ridiculousness that brought us to this point, the agony felt, the frustration, the healing that would have to happen, who cared... Emmylou Marie was with us.

Looking back I praise Jesus for Zach because He used Zach to prepare me. A c section delivery would have been a complete disappointment if Zach hadn't have intervened. Leading up to her birth, he talked to me three different times about my skewed mindset. He made sure that my focus wasn't how she got here, but rather that she did get here and that she and I were safe. And you know what, by the time the 9th of June rolled around, "healthy baby, healthy Mama" truly soared into being the first priority over the remedial details like laboring at home, listening to music (which I couldn't do because the internet at the hospital is basically dial up), having no pain meds, entertaining folks with my labor song (which totally didn't happen, apparently I"m just a lamo whimperer), and giving birth naturally.

I will however add that I may or may not have gotten gallstones after coming home from the hospital. Truly, I may or may not have. I might not know the answer to that until I go to heaven. I had all the signs of gallstones- couldn't stand up straight, couldn't lift my right arm, couldn't lay down, I had a terrible pain in my neck, on the upper right side of my back, and wrapped around to under my ribs. But again, the Lord is great and after a prayer meeting with several of our friends from church, the pain diminished. It was a miracle on all counts, if you ask me.

Emmylou's first two weeks

The scoop on Emmylou.

First the facts.

Inching towards the end of my labor, Emmylou's heart rate went up. Shortly after, mine did too. The nurse said that this is not uncommon for a labor so lengthy but if I spike a fever, I will have hit the 3 sign jackpot of choreo (an in-utero infection). Sure enough, a fever hit with about 6 hours to go. They did what they could to lower my fever with ice pack, they put me on my side to help with her heart rate, and they put me on antibiotics. With such a combination, high heart rates and spiked fever, it is routine for the baby to be placed directly into the NICU and given 7 days of antibiotic. And so that journey began.

Zach and I were counting down those days that seemed to creep by, just living at the hospital. On her first day, Miss popular had 10 visitors. But while she was there, she kept having spit up episodes. Although this is normal for a baby, her amount of spit up was quite large. On top of that, the content was green, indicating bile. This was concerning because her vomit should not be coming from a spot that deep in her gut. The doctors did like 5 x-rays, 2 ultrasounds, and that berium dye thing that I definitely don't know how to spell. Everything kept coming back normal until the dye test... where they saw a tiny narrowing in her intestine. Because the vomiting was not subsiding, they put her on the terrible, awful, no eating diet, NPO, to see if it would cease. It didn't, so they prepared us for her surgical options. The team decided that they would go in and cut that part of her intestine out, and then re-sew it together. This would be a recovery of 5-7 days until I could feed her, and then a few more days of monitoring. However, when they went in for surgery, they saw that her bowel was rotated and the stenosis (the narrowing), wasn't as problematic as they had thought. Instead of fixing them both, the surgeons decided to go the less invasive route and fix the rotated bowel (which they strongly believed to be the problem) only. This meant a much quicker recover because there was no cutting internally.

She continued to vomit bile. The doctors said that this very much could be post op behavior but they'd keep an eye on it. They pulled out her NG tube and the next day, she threw up 32 ccs in the last 24 hours. The NG tube went back in. They immediately extracted 12cc of bile... we are waiting on the surgeons to decide where to go from here.

Not the facts.

Zach and I are basically on the verge of crying at all times. I mean it's just insane what a roller coaster this has been. I think the worst part is not knowing when she'll be out. We have had several possible discharge dates that have all flown past us now. It's like when you're babysitting and the parents say they'll be home in 4 hours and so you properly partition your energy to last those four hours and then they show up 3 hours late. I mean you were just spent for the last 2 hours. That's what it's like.

But truthfully, we can find no reason to complain. Emmylou is the largest baby in the NICU by far and she is surrounded by 7 other babies. 6 of which are chronic NICU patients. In fact, her four pound neighbor came in yesterday and her parents took one look at us and said "why is YOUR baby in the NICU?" In addition, we hear stories about parents who aren't in the place where they can be at the hospital literally all day like we can, due to jobs or lack of transportation, or a long commute. But God, in His graciousness placed us in a house that is a 6 minute walk from our door to her bedside. I have a schedule wide open that allows me to stay with her constantly, AND we have more support than I could ever dream of. We would've had to switch our phone plan if I didn't have unlimited texts due to the vast amount of people checking in on her and I alike. She's had about 10 times more visitors than anyone else in that NICU and, her Mimi was able to drop everything and come out to support us after she heard Emmylou was going into surgery. In fact, after she found out, it took her all of 3 minutes to buy the ticker. On top of that, her aunt, Emily, swallowed her fear of flying to meet her and hold her and sing her Mary Kate and Ashley songs as she fell asleep. Finally, her Pop pop flew out for a weekend to see his little miss Emmylou and make sure she was doing ok. Not to mention that Zach's parents were able to come out as well. I'm telling you, the Lord has showered us in an abundance of blessings and each night Zach and I come home and praise Jesus for what He has given us in this hard time. He is faithful. Always always.

Mother's Day

Medical school is a journey that Zach was very sensitive about during our dating relationship. The boy wouldn't come close to asking me to marry him until he knew what I was getting myself into. He wanted me to read all of these blogs that tell the harsh truth about loneliness and often times depression, we had numerous conversations about what having children would be like during residency, and how some women don't even feel like they're married some of the time...
I'm saying all of this to lay the foundation of how tough medical school can be on marriages and also individuals. But truly, our journey has been nothing of the sort. And if I could baptist style cut this down to two different factors that are most likely insanely simplified, I would say it would have to be Mom and Zach. (I know I know, unlike true baptist form, I have no acronym to help you remember and my points don't even begin with the same letter... but come on folks, I'm only half baptist!)

Mom:

 Mom is crazy independent. If she wants to go somewhere or do something, she needs no company, she just goes. Garage saling by herself, no problem... she prefers less competition for the deals anyway. She wants to go see Fiona's soccer game but no one else in the house has a free schedule to trek into Atlanta with her? Oh well, you snooze you lose folks, and Mimi has no time for snoozers.

Mom is wildly spontaneous. Earlier this year she planned a trip with her and her sisters and wouldn't tell them what they were doing. It included a raw barre workout class, tubing, a trip to the theaters, and zip lining.

Moms never met a stranger. This can most beautifully be summed up in this story: we were headed to Wyoming for a skiing trip when our crew of 7 hopped on a shuttle bus at the airport only to pick up another family of 6. Luggage included, it was pretty packed. Mom graciously offered to hold the other family's infant so that they could get their bags on in a speedy manner and minimize stress. Well, no sooner than it took for the baby to be placed in her arms, mom was kissing all over it... and to the point where we were all wondering if the baby was gonna leave with a hickey. I mean if it was uncomfortable for me, I can only assume what the other family felt. But it's who she is... she meets people and then loves them.
Another time we went to a family style restaurant and we sat at a large table with another family and once lunch was over, mom had informed us that we were headed to their house on the Chattahoochee for a swim in the river. Now if you know anything about Papa Elf, you can bet your bottom dollar that it wasn't his extravert nature that landed us that gig in the sun!

If "hostess with the mostest" means that you have an open door policy and there is always food either on the stove or in the fridge, then that's mom. Having people over wasn't ever a huge deal: it was casual, there were no banners, no table cloths, no fine china... just the appreciation of fellowship shared of yummy food. I guess once you hit a certain number in the household, what's another mouth to feed, right?

Mom knows that life is a joke.She told me various times growing up that I "needed to be like a duck and let it roll off my back." And it's stuck (ironically). Most things aren't worth the time that worrying tries to occupy... plus, if you open your eyes a little wider and focus on all of the marvelous or hilarious things out there and you'll train your mind not to dwell on the little hiccups. Like the time mom's hand was the size of my pregnant swollen foot (which if you haven't seen, it is not unlike a baby elephants foot) and then texted me a picture of it. When I asked what happened, she, oh so medically, said "I smushed it" and started to laugh.

Mom can pack in a schedule like it's her job. I can't be sure if I have ever met anyone who can get more out of the 24 hours given to us each day besides her. If that lady has 13 minutes to spare and there is a sale at Kohl's, I can tell you 10/10 times where she'll be during that 13 minutes. Commute included. She even strategically plans folding laundry until Idol is on, so that not one minute is wasted.

She is insanely selfless with her time; her servants heart can't comprehend any good that would come from neglecting someone's need so that she may have some time to herself. In the story mentioned earlier about her smushed hand, I asked if she was gonna go to the doctors to get it looked at and she said, well I've already been twice but I kept having to walk about because they were taking too long and I needed to pick up Fiona and Remy.

When Zach and I were taking premarital counseling, we had to pick 3 things we loved about each others family that we would like to incorporate into our own family. When it was Zach's turn, he said, "you guys will do anything for each other. Jump through any hoop, set aside any plans, rearrange any schedule, whatever needs to be done to help out a sibling in need." And he's right, and it's because mom taught us no other way.

Zach:
He understands how much I am like mom and encourages me spread those Becca Jeanne wings and fly.

So for this mother's day, I would like to say a big "cheers" to the woman who, since day one, prepared me for this season I'm in. You are the reason I don't waste time, I don't allow myself to get bored, I love having a full house, I reach out to the community around me, I smother each day in laughter, I fly by the seat of my pants, and I am completely ignorant to this whole pregnancy thing in the fact that I am coaching, tutoring, leading a married folks club, volunteering in church nursery, working full time, and attending a weekly bible study all while 8 months pregnant. Why can't I do it? I'm Becca's offspring!

And you, mom, are the reason why I am not worried about the whole having a baby aspect of pregnancy either. It's a comfort knowing how much alike we are because this confidence of motherhood, whether it be accurate or not, has been placed in me. I've been watching you do it so well for 25 years, it's like I've been living inside a book entitled "The Expert Mom."

We shall call her Emmylou and she shall be ours

And she shall be our Emmylou!

Ahhhhhhhh, the choosing of the name. One does not know how different they are from their spouse until one is choosing a name with their spouse. And then there are personalities to consider. For instance, I should never have a Victoria... lest any expectations of the secret or posh spice kind come into play. Bless our offsprings heart, they are going to have some fabulous qualities but top tier fashionista is most likely not in the mix... unless denim, converse, and old soccer t-shirts grow wildly popular in vogue. So, the story, here's how it all began.

                                                                                           (just a little pic to pass your time)
Growing up, most of my weekends beginning at age 7 were filled with traveling to soccer games. Due to the league that Emily and I were in, our games were all over not only the state of Georgia, but also the South East. They stretched from Florida to Virginia and Georgia to Texas. Normally the games weren't more than a few hours away but even with those, the accumulated time amounted to... let me quickly do the math (insert calculator typing noises)... a LOT of time in the car. When we were U8-U10, we mostly passed the time with Bob Carlisle, Rich Mullins, and Chris Rice. But the older we got, the more secular music was slowly introduced. At first, it was Gram Parsons, then some Emmylou Harris, a hardy chunk of Kris Kristopherson, and a giant amount of Alabama. Dad had a big ol' cd holder book that was jammed packed full of goodies. I remember when we we'd start those trips on Saturday mornings: a left out of Quinn Ridge and almost an immediate left pulling into circle K where he would sometimes fill up on gas but ALWAYS grab either a mountain dew and boiled peanuts or a banana bread slice and some strawberry nesquik (depending on what time of the day it was. I too was allowed a snack and drink and almost always went for the favored banana bread. Then when he checked out, I would rummage through the candy and gum racks underneath the register counter and almost always find loose and forgotten change. Back to the car we went but before the engine was ever started, he would reach back behind to the back seat and pull out his cd case. I would secretly try to guess which disc he would choose and hold my breath as he flipped through and either passed it, or on the extremely rare occasion, grab it. Sometimes I would ask who we were going to listen to and then try and guess which cd he would start with.
 
Dad loved to sing along to the songs. When one he really really loved would come on, which was most of them, he would turn he volume up and start flicking his fingers in a maestro like manner in preparation for the first verse to start. Then he would almost always start singing a measure too soon... just because.

(That gap though...)

Intermittently, he would point to the radio and sing out a particularly intriguing line and then explain why it leaves him curious. For example, when singing "American Pie" he would sing out all of the clues and then say who it was being described in the verses- James Dean, Janice Joplin, etc. And this would nearly always spark into other conversations- where he was when he first heard the song, his most memorable moment invoked by the song, and so on. These were my favorites parts of the car ride. These stories. I would get sucked into the nostalgia and ask for more details. And in hindsight, these car rides were where I learned most about Dana Flowers- the man outside of the Dad version. This is where I also learned that he wanted to name Emily, Emmylou. He and my mom compromised on Emily Louise (Louise was my dad's mothers who passed away when he was only 23) with Emmylou as a potential nickname. Although it never happened, I clung onto that story as if it were a morsel. It showed a different side of dad- an excitement and sensitivity leading up to fatherhood that I had never quite imagined before. And there the name stayed, branded on my mind since the turn of the century. Emmylou- and encompassment of Dad's heritage and family, a picture of familial pride and sweet memories.


ps. Middle name is yet to come. Any suggestions? 

Surely Your goodness and love may follow me

All the days of my life. All of them. It's mind blowing. His provisions are absolutely mind blowing!

You remember that time as a kid when your parents finally set the circumstances just right for you to try fish for the first time... you know, on that day when the pantry was absolutely bare, the fridge emptied, and all your neighbors were out of town, so that you had no where to turn but to the actual dinner. And on top of that, punishment was obviously in order unless you ate your dinner. But unfortunately, your nose worked and so the whole feat was an uphill battle! But then you did it and you were so pleased that you said a silent prayer to thank Jesus for having people in your life who care for you enough to introduce you to such a delight?

Trick question: fish is disgusting. In my heart I don't believe that anyone actually loves it.

However, the previous scenario did ring true for me when it came to brussel sprouts. And collards. And now my children will be eating the same.

Oh yeah, but back to the point: Whether it's disguised as chocolate cake or brussel sprouts, that is a mirrored image of the Lord taking care of Zach and I for the last 2 years. You all know the story of us blindly walking into marriage with absolutely no plan past the reception, but then the Lord revealed to us His splendid path that lead us to sunny California: a land of unknown. But it's turned out to be a gargantuan blessing for a number of reasons. The familial environment, Zach's relatives, caring professors, adventuresome surroundings, independence, hospitable friends, Godly church... I mean the list of blessings truly seems endless.

Well, in our newest chapter, our theme song is still the same. He is constantly showering us with blessings. Our due date was about a week earlier than we anticipated (which caused Zach to move his boards up a week), but I have no doubt that this too is a blessing because between you and me, from what I hear from the 3rd years, you are losing information quicker than you gain it after the first full week of studying. Coincidentally, Zach will be taking his exam after that first week of studying. Plus, this will allow us optimal time to adjust as a family before he starts school again (as opposed to the baby coming just before boards or after he has started his 3rd year). And my job, which I may have originally labeled a "brussel sprout" at the beginning of this year, is not a contracted position but rather a series of long term positions that conveniently end at the beginning of April! Which means, I will be able to  create my own schedule leading up to the birth of the baby. And to think, He had all of this planned before we had even known we were going to be parents!

More recently, we were able to land a fantastic deal with a new car. Say hello to the new owners of a volkswagon station wagon #dreamsdocometrue. Although Alejandro gave me a really good run, Zach is entirely more confident in the new addition for our new addition (if you know what I mean). And as of just last night, Julie helped me find the perfect name for him. Just as I had said to her how much room he had in the back, we simultaneously said "Baby got back!" Naturally, I couldn't steer away from this obvious sign of naming him Sir Mix-A-Lot, but calling him, "the Big Sir." Which is oh too cheesily convenient as Zach and I took our first trip in the Big Sir to San Francisco where we drove through Big Sur. I mean, fate? I think so!

Finally, Zach and I just bid adieu to our first home together as the Lord blessed Zach's faithful actions of almost endless house hunting and scored us a deal! We have gone from approximately 800 sq ft to 1400 sq ft, without hardly raising our monthly rent! Boom, chocolate cake!! Man oh man He is so good! The baby will now be able to have her own room, we can accommodate people like you for when you visit our little "flowerpower" as Zach and I have been calling her (it seems only fitting as Coach Davis used to call me Flower Child.) We have found ourselves going to bed every night thanking Jesus for His blessings and provisions, and finding that our list has no end. Wherever we turn, He is waiting with anticipation. His plans for us are far better than the ones we set out for ourselves, and He is eager to watch us trust Him!

We serve an awesome God, folks!

Me and Kenny: a verse at a time

Going home for Christmas has a way of sending me back into high school days. We are staying at Zach's house but due to the pregnancy, I am trying to walk to my parents house just about everyday for the exercise. The 3.6 mile path that takes me from mom and Dad's to Zach's parents house is covered with memories. I wore that path out so many times during our high school years... I couldn't even count the treks. Actually, its that path that may have played a huge part of when it was I fell in love with Zach. After my sophomore year of college, I totaled my car and as a result, went a whole summer with no transportation. Well, no car transportation that is. But because of this "unfortunate event," I used my free time to visit those that were in carless visitable ranges: Zach and one other family. I think I went to his house every single day for two months straight for one reason or another. I would ride my bike, jog over... One time I rode my nephew's scooter, rollerblading was another option. I mean, a girl's gotta mix it up. But this time, four and half years after that summer we fell in love, I am found walking alone... swimming in the memories of times past when all of the sudden, this little ditty came up on my shuffle:

Friday night butterflies
Like clockwork they'd arrive
A little chill and the October sky
Nervous till the kickoff game
4 quarters win or lose
Spent Saturdays black and blue
But it was what I love to do
And it was more than just a game

It was my life and it was fun
Another season of my life is done
Another race I'm glad I got to run
Another chapter of my life its over
No I'm never gonna feel like that again
Times rushin by me like the wind
Never be as young as I was then
No I'm never gonna feel like that again

Practice dancin in my garage
Two left feet and a white corsage
Daddy let me borrow the dodge
Said don't bring her home on empty
Swung by and picked up Cindy Lou
Took her to the prom for a dance or two
Then we drove down to the water blue and that's where she kissed me

It was my life and it was fun
Another season of my life is done
Another race i'm glad I got to run 
Another chapter of my life its over
No i'm never gonna feel like that again
Times rushin by me like the wind
Never be as young as I was then
no i'm never gonna feel like that again

I got a call one July day
Cindy Lou was in that way
Had a big decision to make
and I couldn't take it lightly
At first I thought of leavin town
but I couldn't let our families down
now I'm out here throwin this ball around
with a boy that looks just likes me

Its my life and its sure fun
Another season of my lifes begun
Another race I'm glad I get to run
another chapter of my life I'm writin
No I'm never gonna feel like this again
Times rushin by me like the wind
Got to grab each moment that I can
Cuz I'm never gonna feel like this again
no I'm never gonna feel like this again
Nooooooooo I'm never gonna feel like this again

This was my pump my song for basketball senior year. I know, hilarious, right? But the heart wants what it wants and this first verse always did me in. My basketball season senior year wasn't much of what I anticipated it to be. A lot more crap politics, favoritism, and dishonoring decisions (that seemed to never fall my way) than there ought to have been... but the point is, it wasn't glamorous and certainly not fun most of the time. Because of the mistreatment, we'll call it, that went on that year, at the end of every game I felt black and blue both mentally and physically.

 But then I would think of my dad and all of the war stories that he told of his young football career... of his shoulder and knee surgeries, of his highlighted stats, of his youthful glory- each story held so much passion. When I thought of that, I knew quitting was not an option- this was just one of those times that although miserable in the moment, would make me into who I'd become. "A story for the kids" as I would say... and it sure has rung true. My family has a way of ganging up around one another in times like this. It's very Cheaper by the Dozen of us. I remember one time my mom got so fiery mad when I was telling the stories of how one individual treated me on the team "Oh Cassi, I just don't know how you could stand it. Every time I hear these stories, I just want to.... want to... throw gravel at her face." Then there was that other time where the Coach publicly compared my value to the team as that of a spare tire to a car. If you are having a hard time reading between the lines, let me clear it up for you, the Coach believed me useless to the team. Far from a necessity. But instead of letting that get me down, my family turned it into a huge joke and for the biggest game of the season, all 9 of them showed up with a giant 15ft piece of butcher paper that had this encouraging gem written on it in letters so big they could be seen from everywhere in the gym

 "She's on a roll, she's on fire, we sure love our favorite spare tire." (picture at home... I wish so badly I could have posted it)

And just like that, that dark season of my life has become a fond memory. They reminded me of why I play. I love the sport, I love the competition. I do it to reveal the glory of God and to praise Him for giving me the talents that my dad had in competitive aggression, ability, smarts, and hard work. It was for no one else, me and those that truly loved me... that was all that mattered. Kenny knew it too.

But then that season ended and I moved on with the rest of my high school days. It was now soccer season, or spring as some other call it, and that meant Prom. Senior Prom. I always delighted in being asked but with no fella on my mind, it was always up in the air if I was going to get a date. In my opinion, the goal was grand memory making and that could be accomplished with either the handsomest of boy, or my long lasting girlfriends. As Michael Scott would say, it was a "win win win" situation. But then one of the days leading up the dance, I was called out of class to go to the lunch room. I walked in to see Zach laying on the ground like a model with some of our friends behind him laying down and spelling the word "prom?" out with their bodies. He was one of my best friends and going with him was a guaranteed good time. He came by to pick me up, not in his car, but his dads. Zach drove a jeep and his family decided it was best if he used something a little less internally windy to drive me to the dance. Just as I had anticipated, we had the best time... from the ride up to the venue where we had to do an emergency pull over into Marshall's so we both could run in and avoid the bladder poisoning that was about to take place in our body... to the ridiculous poses mom made us get in for the pre game photography shoot... to the dancing the night away... and then the aftermath when his mom came up to me a week or so later to let me know that Zach's shirt smelled just like me when he came home and she did his laundry. Although she was overjoyed with telling me, I couldn't let this stand since I was wearing zero perfume and we did nothing to cause such close contact... I swear!!

But on my recent walk though, as the words came up through my headphones, I only just realized what a parallel this song has been to my life. Minus the whole Zach wanting to leave town bit. But here we are pregnant and soon to be living out the last verse. A year or two from now, Zach will very much be outside throwing, or more realistically kicking, a ball around with a boy (girl) who looks just like him! And for that, we could not be more thrilled! The anticipation of seeing those curls, just gets me ready to jump out of my skin. 

Praise Jesus for his sweet blessings both now and before and even yet to come.