Missionary Mom's Waiting Game

It's late morning here in the Springs;
I've already cleaned here
and gone over to a post-partum momma's house
this morning.
I've made phone calls and written emails.

But, like the other years my oldest kids
were off serving missions,
on their P-days
I tried to keep close to the computer
so I could get their emails
hot off the press
a it were.

I walk away and come back
checking my email
over and over
all morning long.
(checked it, nothing yet.)

It's not that I think my sweet Sister Missionary
has something life-changing to share;
even though she is having some amazing experiences;
no really,
all it means to me is that
she is breathing
able to get to a computer
and if all she had to say was
"I'm Alive, Mom"--
as she does in every email
because she knows me so well
and watched me
watch the email with her older brother and sister
when they were missionaries--
if all she had time to write was those 3 words,
it would be enough.

This experience of being a Missionary Mom
is wonderful
but the part that is hardest is not being able
to hear her voice every day.
That is hard,
I"m not gonna even try to fake that I"m ok with that.

I didn't cry when we left her at the MTC,
or on the way home from Utah.
IN fact,
it wasn't until about 6 days ago that I really had a good cry
for missing her
when I was alone in the car one day by myself.
 (checked again, nada)

I mean,
I get why we can't talk to these
newly called missionaries:
they need to focus on the calling and all that.
I get it.
It's the right way to do this.
But man alive,
it's pretty stinkin' hard to do.

Every letter we get from her is overflowing with JOY;
with her companion,
her district,
her testimony and all that she is learning.
It is all we hoped for her and more.

She is training on Temple Square this week
before leaving next Wednesday
for New York.

New York in September.
I've heard it's beautiful.
(checked again, nope.)

So Nana may not even be near a pc today,
because of her training in Salt Lake City.
All I can think of is that it's a good thing
I live on this side of the Rocky Mountains
cuz' ya know...
I'd haveta be restrained from taking a jaunt over to
T-square
hide in the bushes if I had to,
or wear dark sunglasses and a ball cap to hide my appearance,
just so I could get my two eyeballs on my girl.

Yeah.
I know I sound like a loon.
I blame my kids.
They did this to me--
this business of having my heart
float around outside of my body
stinks on ice.

Since I am stuck over here on the east side of the Rockies,
I must wait
and
wait
and
wait
for a little note to pop up and say,
"Hey Momza! I'm Alive!"
(just checked again. nuthin')

This is gonna be a long day.

She Blew Dandelion Wishes

This is my favorite kind of writing to do...
a Birth Story.

I got a text early Friday morning:
"Just a heads up: it's looking like today's the day."
-from Composed Mama A.

I love getting those kinds of texts and phone calls
when a momma is ready to have a baby.

I went ahead and got ready for the day
and got the yahoos off to school,
ran over and checked on
the other Post-partum Momma
I've been working with the past couple of weeks.

Composed Mama A. and I were in constant contact
and she knew to call me when her body said
the time was nigh to go to the hospital.
Three hours later, another text:
"I'm terrible at timing ctx and I'm getting really erratic times,
but the ones I am feeling are long and getting intense.
Do you think we should head to the hospital?"

I responded with a simple, "Yes."
And then quickly finished up what I was doing--
which was making eggs for two little ones
at the other Momma's house,
and headed over to meet Mama A. and Papa M.
I was their doula just over a year ago,
and shared their first birth story over here.
So, I was and still am,
honored
to be asked to attend another birth.

Mama A. was much the same disposition as the first birth--
composed, focused, relaxed.
She didn't move around hardly at all--
content to sit on the bed,
legs to the side,
and quietly breathing
in through her nose
and out through her mouth,
eyes closed,
and a heavenly peaceful look on her face.
It was hard to tell she was in active labor.

IN fact, she was already dilated to 6cm upon arrival at the hospital,
she'd gone through early labor
in the comfort of her own home.

In between contractions,
we would engage in small talk,
but follow her cues
as another wave would present itself
and she calmly let it go through her;
surprising her attending nurse with
her quiet responses and relaxed demeanor,
which perfectly matched the calm August morning.

Mama A. drank some ice water,
took a small bite of a rice cake,
and rested her head back on a pillow
between contractions.
Papa M. ever near her side,
whispered treasured words
for her ears only,
and lightly glided his fingers over her limbs,
to relax and comfort her.
There was never a wasted word between them.
They were thoughtful and respectful of one another
and in every way showed a mutual gratitude
towards the other.

Her labor progressed very quickly,
and we only knew of the increased intensity
when Mama A declared,
after quietly breathing away another wave,
"That was really intense."

I looked at my watch and timed the next few contractions:
they were lasting nearly or just over-- two minutes
and allowing only a 10 second rest between.
Her body was working to capacity.
Just a little over 10 minutes later,
she said what we all love to hear:
"I feel the pressure to push."

I went out and got our attending nurse, Farrell,
to come and check Mama A.'s progress.
At first check,
Farrell determined Mama A's cervix was at an 8--
and two contractions later,
she was checked again
and was complete and ready for delivery!

( I love this part!)

The Doc was just outside the door,
so he just walked right in,
sat down and within just a few minutes,
he was prepping for the delivery.

By this time,
Mama A began to push,
and we were her cheerleaders!
I didn't get the exact count,
but I would say it only took
five good pushes
and Baby girl C. came out
a chubby little thing
at nine pounds, 13 ounces!
Almost ten pounds!
I got out the camera and snapped a few pics,
and then went to the "broiler pan"
while the peds nurses and docs checked her out
and Papa stayed next to Mama
for the rest of the delivery.

All of this happened in less than 3 hours.
Three!

It went by so fast,
that before we knew it,
while Papa went with the Baby to the nursery,
and I sat with Mama A alone in her room,
while she drank some juice,
and recovered awhile.
I asked her about how she was able
to stay so composed--
What did you think about while you were in labor;
while you were breathing?
I asked.

Mama A smiled.
" I imagined blowing
dandelion seeds and wishes for her."

Indeed.

This Week: Doula work, A Birth, A job and A Missionary

If you've been on this earth longer than ten minutes,
you may have learned this truth:
"things don't always go as planned."
True story right there.

The little Momma I was serving as a post-partum doula
is taking a little longer than we thought
as she heals her heart and body.
These things take time, I tell her.
Be patient.
Be positive.
You will feel better soon.

At least half of my time spent with her
is sitting on the edge of her bed
listening.
She will be okay
in time.
****

My special needs son, Dean,
whom we just moved to a new HHP,
is bored as he awaits the paperwork
for a new day program and a job--
so what did he do to help his efforts to find a new job?
He dialed 911 and asked the dispatcher
if he could get a job as a Policeman.
Oh yes he did.

Hearing this at first,
I was embarrassed for him--
and then I just laughed
at his boldness.
That boy wants a job and isn't afraid to ask for one!
Gotta love that!

****
I am sleeping lighter these days
as I am waiting for a special phone call
that will bid me to come to a birth!
I haven't taken any births since my car accident
last November;
but I am ready to get busy again.
I know it will take alot of energy,
but man alive,
is it worth it to experience the
miracle of Life!
There isn't anything else
I can think of that gives me as much joy
as attending a birth!

****

Our letters from Nana have been fantastic!
She is so stinkin' happy at the MTC--
her letter this week was full of excitement
and wishes she could call and tell me all about
her new experiences and new friends.
I admit it,
that's the hardest thing for me too--
I miss talking to her and just catching up together.
{sigh}
Her happiness is mine.

****
And that's it for me tonight.
Just livin' my life and hanging on for the ride.

I'm A Woman, Not a Lawyer

Lately,
I've been listening with what you might call
"different ears"
to the voices of women in my realm of associates...

and they've started to sound the same.

I noticed this when we went to take Diana to the MTC
in Provo, Utah
and we stayed with some wonderfully hospitable friends.

We've known them for as long as they've been married,
which is at least 13 years...

When we first met the Darling Mommy, as I will refer to her--
she was a burst of
positivity
and confidence!
Her purpose was defined and clear:
to be an excellent mother and wife.
All that she did was to magnify that calling,
and because her babies were little,
she created a world of her own
that full and vibrant,
busy and yet grounded.

She has had more babies since then,
even adopted a couple of children
to love and nourish
with the great abundance of her life.

She has made terriffic sacrifices
and her intentions and purposes
are tangible and honorable.

And yet,
over the last couple of years
her confidence in who she is and what she is doing
and HOW she is doing it
has taken a turn.

Due in large part,
from what she has shared with me,
a few women in her neighborhood and ward family
that went out of their way
to make her feel "less than"
and put her in a position
of
defending her Life.

I listened to her lamentations while we were visiting
and I sensed her sorrow,
and looked in earnest for the little light
that I KNOW is still inside of her,
but she is waiting for someone else
to give her permission, almost,
to let it SHINE.

I listened and listened
as she shared the minute details of what
certain young mothers she knows
have weilded against her
in their own insecurities.

And it made me sad.

Noone has the right to make others
feel incompetent or unworthy of praise and appreciation.
Noone.
And women (immature/damaged women, no matter their age)
can be so very hard on other women
in a way that I don't know that men can do to one another
as easily
because women especially seek the approval of other women
in ways men never do of their peers.

We open ourselves up for scrutiny,
evaluation of worth,
in a way,
we almost invite others to judge us,
but inwardly pray that they will be
Kind and Merciful
in their findings.

Women of Faith
are Kind,
and know the need for mercy
and gentleness.
They understand the weight of their words
on the souls of others
and mete out their "judgements"
with great prudence,
for we know that we ourselves,
need
Kindness and Mercy.

I was having my hair done today
by a sweet friend,
with another friend, Nan
and this topic came up again--
that of defending our lives to others...
and I just came to the conclusion
that I am who I am--
doing the best that I know how,
and when I assume the same of others,
my Life is open for more Joy in it.

There is no need to compare
my life,
my choices,
my sins,
my accomplishments,
to others.
I am just a Woman.
I'm not a Lawyer.
I do not need to defend
my every choice
nor should I ever expect that my dear friends
need defend theirs to me.
We are travelling companions in this
Great Journey
and our efforts are most appreciated
and best applied
when we pause to lift another's burdens,
or
to share another's celebrations of success on the way.

To do anything else
is such a waste of energy
and mucks up our own legacies.
In other words,
to judge another harshly
isn't worth what it costs;
not worth the damage our ignorant voices cause,
to the listening ears and heart of another,
or to our own souls.

We are not Lawyers,
We are Women.
And there is no better cause in the world
than for women to support one another
simply for the sake of sisterhood.
We can do so much more
with our talents
when they are used to create and inspire
for the benefit of others.

We women soak up criticism so much quicker
than we allow compliments.
Heavens, we do enough damage to ourselves
don't we?
My challenge to any woman reading these words today
is simple:
The next time you are paid a compliment,
LET IT SOAK INTO YOUR BONES,
Let it drench your heart.
Absorb all the goodness that is there
and let it fill your being.
I have a hard time with this myself,
so perhaps this is more for me
than anyone else.
But I am going to be better about
accepting compliments and keeping them.
We can all do better
to pat ourselves on the back
for all the good we do.

So just like a kindergarten teacher taught my daughter,
Pat yourself on the back and say outloud,
"Tres Bien."

And the second challenge is like unto it:
"DO unto others as you would have others do unto You."
That is,
Give compliments with care,
more freely
more earnestly
to the women around you.
We can do so much good.
Use your voices and your hands
to Lift.

The Culmination of Efforts

At the beginning of the week,
I told the sweet Momma whom I have been working
as a post-partum doula,
that come Friday
she wouldn't need me anymore.

At that moment,
she was skeptical--
she'd been in bed for several weeks
and just could not fathom feeling good enough
to resume her role as wife and mother.

But I knew she would.

I've been cooking and cleaning,
listening and encouraging.
And she's been responding so positively,
so absolutely ready to take her place again,
that yesterday she and I decided that
today will probably be my last day.
In fact,
the plan is that I'm going over
unless
I get a text from her saying otherwise.

I'm kinda hoping I get the text
for that will mean that my job is finished.
And that is a very good thing.

Another "job" of mine has come to an end as well--
Mr W and I were released last night
as Primary teachers for Arianna's class.
It seems we can't have two callings
in a ward where lots of new people have moved into
and want to serve.
So we've been booted out of Primary
so we can continue on as Ward Missionaries.

I cried at the news.

I don't normally cry when being released from a calling.
Most of the time I know it's coming or have even requested it,
but not this time.
I have LOVED teaching these 10 and 11 year olds
this year.
Perhaps it's because we've been reading the Book of Mormon
together--
that alone is such a sweet experience--
or perhaps it's that I have enjoyed teaching with Mr W
and watching him teach too that has made a difference.
Whatever it is,
it's been one of the most favorite callings I have ever had
and I will miss serving those children.

We received an email and a letter from Nana
this week.
She is loving her time at the MTC;
making new friends,
studying the scriptures,
learning the life of a missionary
and loving it!
She also shared that she when she went to buy
a small hymnal,
the clerk asked if she were going to Germany.
and upon opening the book later,
discovered why the question was asked--
it was a German hymnal.
Um no, she isn't going to Germany.
She didn't say so,
but I hope she got to exchange it for English.

It is so wonderful to hear the joy in her letters home!
To see the rewards and blessings come from
a much-concerted effort to be there
doing what she's doing!

I appreciate the opportunities I have had
to
serve
to
teach
to
love...
that's the sweet-meat of Life.

post-script: just minutes after publishing this I got the text! She doesn't need me!! YAY!

Father's Blessings & the First Day of School

Today is officially the end of Summer.

I'm upstairs in the loft listening to the children
who are in the diningroom
eating their breakfast--
spoons clanking against the cereal bowls
small chatter that I can't quite make out,
they're fully-dressed and ready to go
an hour before the bus comes.

They're a little bit excited.

Mr Wonderful gave them each a
Father's Blessing
on Monday night.
I listened intently as the blessing was pronounced,
for impressions I might also receive
on my heart and mind
to better help the children
in school, at home, in Life.

It is always a sweet experience
when Dad lays his hands upon the children's heads
and the Holy Ghost whispers the blessings
specific to each child's needs and talents.

I am grateful for these priesthood moments in our home.

It gives the children confidence as they go towards a new school year
that Heavenly Father is aware of them,
reassures them of His love for them,
and the guidance from heaven is theirs
for the asking.
It gives me comfort too of course.

Sending my children out into the world
unaccompanied
is not easy,
in fact, there are moments when
I ponder homeschooling them
for safety reasons alone.
So having Dad give the children blessings
is as much for me sometimes
as it is for them.

The yahoos are ready
and their backpacks are by the door,
filled with clean, new spiral notebooks,
crayola markers with all the caps on them (!),
highlighters and index cards,
and hand sanitizer to boot!
(My generation of kids must've had terribly germy hands.
All we ever used was DIAL soap.)

Fall is in the air this morning,
a lazy haze is rising against the base of Pikes Peak,
and the high temperature today is supposed to top out at
74o.
I am right where I want to be this very moment.
Perfect weather for the first day of school, yeah?

Post-partum Doula: Mothering a Mother

I could blog about a dozen other things in my life right now,
but I'm most focused this morning
on what I've been doing recently
that is more unusual.

Week before last,
a long-time friend of our family's called me
and asked for my help.
His wife had recently suffered a difficult pregnancy,
which was mostly alot of hyperemesis
and which sadly ended in a miscarriage,
then compounded by a very traumatic recovery.

They needed someone they trusted to come over
and care for her,
and for their other children.
I have been a post-partum doula before,
but always there has been a newborn in the house.
This would be different.

I was so glad they called,
but it was the day before we left for Utah
to take Nana to the MTC,
so I promised I'd get over there
as soon as I returned.

When I finally got over there last Friday,
Momma was in bed.
She was struggling with a slow recovery,
her physical and emotional states were
paralleled...
I had said a prayer before I went over,
that I would be able to discern her needs and meet them
and help her exactly where she needed help.

She hadn't been out of bed in many days
other than to the hospital.
She hadn't showered or visited with her other children
in many days.
She felt, she said, overwhelmed.

So, I listened to her.
I sat on her bed and just listened to this lovely sister
share her journey as long as she wanted me to listen.
Then,
I got busy.
I gathered her little chickens in the kitchen
and we made a plan to get their chores done,
with me working alongside them.
Encouraging them,
praising them,
listening to them too.
Children worry about their parents,
but I don't know that adults slow down to listen
to those worries.
Their concerned faces started to lift with hope
as I expressed my positive declarations
that their momma was going to get better n' better
every day as we all work together and do our part.

I brought my own cd player and
put on some calming instrumental hymns
in the kitchen.
The children were attentive and eager to help
as we cleaned and then made a delicious lunch together.

I made the Momma a healthy green smoothie and a small salad.
She hadn't had an appetite in a long time, I was told.
Within a few minutes,
an empty salad bowl was given back to me
with a request for "more salad please."

An hour later,
Momma decided to get in the shower.
That was a big deal.
And I offered to help her come into the livingroom
and sit with her kids,
while I spiffed up her room,
n' changed her sheets.
She took me up on the offer.

The children treated their momma like a china doll
when she came into the livingroom.
 It was interesting to watch them,
as they took seats in the room,
unsure how to talk to her or if they could sit by her,
but they were so happy to be with her,
that just thinking about their faces
makes my own eyes tear up.

Mothers are the heart of the home.

As I finished up,
and it was time to go,
I felt satisfied that the day had ended in good results.
Momma was feeling better.

Over the weekend,
the Dad called to tell me of the tremendous progress
his sweetheart was making and how grateful they were
for my contribution to that.

At those moments,
I want to deflect the attention like teflon.
I'm not comfortable with it.
Grateful though, definitely.

Yesterday, I arrived to find the kids more animated--
Momma was coming around and it did their hearts good.

So we cleaned,
we cooked,
there was even dancing in the kitchen!
I left with a crockpot dinner on the counter for later,
and my thoughts continued to settle upon the great calling
of Motherhood.

It occurred to me,
as I was standing at another mother's kitchen sink,
washing her family's dishes,
that my menial task,
that of washing dishes,
was helping another woman's heart to heal.
We mothers need to be mothered sometimes,
it is true.
We need soft shoulders,
listening, compassionate ears,
safe warm hands to lift our burdens with us
and all of us are capable of doing even simple things
to bless one another.

I know this to be true.

Duck and Take Cover!

The Highlights:

We took Diana over to the Provo MTC earlier this week. We got to see David Scott and Tisha too, as they drove down from Boise.  I took some pics and will post them soon.

Began working as a Post-partum Doula yesterday for a sweet momma.

Another house that Kelly and I staged, SOLD this week. I am not exactly sure about how many days it was on the market, but it was around 2 weeks.

Joseph hiked up to the summit of Pikes Peak last night with his scoutmaster, deacon's quorum advisor and all of the other Young Men in the ward that could go.  They left last night at 5pm and their goal was to hit the summit at daybreak this morning.  I am betting a very tired 12 year old man-boy will arrive by noon today and sleep the rest of the day away.

Daisie got a job working at an Assisted Living Center close by us.  She will be on the housekeeping crew, which I think is excellent training for her. She is super stoked about earning money.

Today, we are moving Dean down to the Springs from northern Colorado. It is a day that I have been praying for and he is very excited for as well. 

The yahoos start school next Wednesday n' I can hardly believe Summer 2012 is over. I went to Hobby Lobby a couple of weeks ago and the Fall stuff was already out as well as Christmas!  I admit it, I'm ready for my favorite season to come.

And that's it for now.

Two More Days!

I have one thing on my mind today
and that's that we only have two more days
with Diana at home
before she leaves for her mission.

She has been working up until yesterday,
but she promised each of the younger yahoos
that she'd take each of them on a "date"
with her,
alone
before she left.

Last night
was the Boofus' date.
She let him choose the restaurant--
Qdobas,
and he even showered--
which as you may or may not,
has gone against his
"Saturday-night-showers-only-in-the-summer"
standards.
And, as he lifted his armpit for me to smell,
he wore his lady-killin-AXE body spray.

And off they went.

This morning,
it's The Caboose's turn.
She chose to go to breakfast
for her sister-date.

Then, she has one last date with Daisie--
I haven't heard the details yet
but those two both love sushi,
so I'd bet that's in the plan.

I walked into Diana's room late afternoon,
to find her sprawled across her bed--
clothing and suitcases everywhere,
drawers open wide,
laundry everywhere--
and there she was
doing
nothing.

She's feeling the crunch, I think.
Trying to squeeze in the last bits of
"civilian life"
before we leave on Sunday for the MTC
in Provo.
She'll be set-apart early Sunday morning,
and I get to be her "companion"
until Wednesday morning's drop-off.