I've just been lying in bed thinking of some things that I wanted to write down and about the fact that I could not for the life of me go to sleep and so I'd better get up and get something done. I rented Peter Pan this evening. The newest one. I don't know if it was because I have always been enchanted with the original story, and because this movie followed the original story so well, but I was completely taken with it. I loved it. I told Nathan (rather tongue in cheek) that I was trying not to see the deficiencies in his character that were keeping him from feeling the same way. I am looking forward to watching the extras tommorow. I would be watching them now, but I don't want to wake up my sleeping husband, who was home by 7:30 this evening!!! Love the slowing down of the season, and in two days he gets to have the day off. :) He took Tuesday off, too, and got a lot done around here, which was wonderful. Well, back to things that I wanted to write down. My rambling mind just goes unchecked once I am in bed and have nothing else to occupy it. I was praying. Specifically praying for Karen. It seems like there are more things deteriorating in her body every hour. Someone from church called me tonight to say that Darren had called the pastor on their way home from the hospital where Karen was having tests and procedures done all day and that she now has small blood clots in her legs which could turn into bigger ones. She is in a lot of pain, as she has been, and her chemo is causing more physical weakness and side effects. I was praying for healing. There is no doubt in my mind that the Lord can heal her, that He can be shrinking the cancer cells and killing them right now, that He can be restoring her body to optimal functioning. Don't tell me about statistics, don't tell me about medical facts. I don't believe in them. I only believe in the Great Physician, the God of all flesh, the One who knows Karen's body better than any doctor, and Who is more powerful than any disease. I know He can heal her. Am I a fool to believe He is healing her? Then I choose to be a fool.

Thinking of and praying for Karen led me into thinking of and praying for Amy. My dear sweet friend Amy is pregnant with her fourth little boy right now. She has always submissively trusted her doctors, the medical community, etc. and has never really been an active, informed participant in any of her births. This is what she told me about herself the other day. Her first two births were epiduraled, episiotomied, lithotomy position births, with 4th degree (iatrogenic) tears, and months and months of pain and healing. Her third birth was an elective c-section on the advice of the same doctor who caused her severe tearing the first two times. He told her that if she birthed vaginally again, she would almost certainly tear again and would probably have to have reconstructive bowel surgery. If you know me at all, you know my views on birth, that it is a beautiful, natural, amazing, God created event that works best when left to its own devices under the care of carefully chosen, supportive caregivers. Amy's and my views of birth have been almost diametrically opposed. Until now. The doctor that did her cesarean (not the one who did her first two births) has recommended that she look into VBAC. So, she called me, we talked, she asked for information. I thanked God for her interest and started researching and dogearing and printing out and emailing and presented her with some info the other day. The last thing I wanted to do was to in any way degrade or devalue her other births. They resulted in healthy babies, and they were what she chose at the time. God was in control of it all. That said, I did want to gently show her that there are alternatives, safer, healthier, more comfortable ways of doing things. She called me after reading some things that I had given her and said she wanted to do the VBAC and do it all natural and would I be with her while she is delivering and she was just a little afraid of could she really do it because she's never really done it before.... I told her I would love to be with her while she is in labor, and would support her the best that I could until then with information, help, encouragement, etc. I feel like this is a great opportunity, and I am keeping her in prayer, that she would not feel the fear that surrounded her first three births, that she would become educated and empowered about her bodys ability to birth, and that I would be a blessing to her in the midst of it and help to accomplish these things. Again, the God of all flesh can bring her through it beautifully.

Thinking about Amy got me thinking of my own births, which I cherish in memory and have the stories of written down here and there, and of course etched upon my memory. Grace's story is somewhere on this blog. In fact one of the main reasons that I started this was to have a place to write her birth story. I was thinking tonight, though, about something from her birth journey that I did not write down, because it seemed irrelevant to me when recounting the story, even though when it happened it sparked something of significance in my brain. I had spent a Saturday night in labor. My midwife was here, (more on her insistence than mine, but that's a whole other story, recounted in past posts), I was contracting steadily, and spent the night getting farther and farther into stronger labor, then it started to fizzle out. I was in the hot tub in my living room, (again, another story) and the contractions that had been so strong started getting weaker. I was so exhausted I could barely keep my eyes open, and had been in labor as strong as my previous two for about four hours or so. (Just another praise to God that I was having a homebirth, because this was the point where if I were in the hospital they would have put me on Pitocin and possibly ended up doing a c-section, and it ended up that my baby didn't want to be born until almost a week later.) In the morning, after a few hours of sleep and some (completely unpleasurable) um, prostoglandin placement, ahem.. my midwife checked me and I was still at 5 cm, unchanged from late in the evening before. I was devastated. I lost faith in my body at this point and thought What is wrong with me? My midwife went home, and I went to soak in the hot tub and cry, over the fact that I was so positive I was going to be holding a baby only a few hours before, and here I was, hardly contracting at all, completely exhausted physically and mentally and questioning myself and everything I knew about birthing. **Here's the part that I wanted to write down*** As I lay in the hot tub, facing the window, I kept turning over all these thoughts in my mind. The sky was bright white outside, and as I looked down at my bulging belly I could see clearly the reflection from the window in the still water over my body. On the window sill was a little stained glass candleholder that depicted a nativity, and as I looked down at the body I had lost faith in, I saw this tiny scene of the baby Jesus right over the place where my baby was nestled inside of me. It was a quiet but stark reminder that Jesus was over my body, that He was in control of when my baby was born, not me. This may sound very silly to most people, but to me, it was the still small voice of God whispering that He was still there, that He was still in control, and that I needed but to trust Him. I was still discouraged, I was still exhausted, but I was slightly renewed with this mercy that He gave me, His mercies were new that morning.

As I get ready to leave this little house, I feel many things. I think the biggest is an awe and awareness of my humble and unworthy state. This house was a blessing, it is a blessing, and yet my sinful self centeredness too often found the negatives about this place to focus on. And yet, the Lord is providing a bigger blessing to all of those negatives. More space, more convenience, more everything. The situation we are entering into has been so obviously orchestrated by the Lord that it leaves me wide eyed in wonder at His grace and abundant provision. I am thankful, so thankful, and please Lord, open my dull eyes when I start taking your blessings for granted. I also feel a bit of wistful regret. This is the house that I brought my first baby home to, the one that my second and third babies were born in, the one where my marriage was torn apart and rebuilt, where my faith has grown, where my family has grown. There have been laughter and tears and joy and renewal and love here. It has been a place of solace for my husband and of familiarity for my children. I am excited to be in our new home, but a small part of my heart will always be here. I think we leave parts of our heart, cherished memories and tragic remembrances in places, but I think the Lord can grow our hearts whole again, He always fills in the gaps that living takes out.

I am about out of thoughts here, but I did want to record that I am now officially fertile again. I started my period on Thursday morning. I was completely surprised, and continue to feel almost no pain or cramping or anything, which is very unusual for me. In a way it made me sad, I think there was a small part of me that was thinking maybe I was pregnant, but now I can get pregnant. That's in the Lord's hands, whatever our plans are, He supercedes. Anyway. I hope I can get to sleep soon.............