The birth story of Josiah Immanuel

Birth is often unpredictable. This time around, the 5^th time, I thought would go smoothly. The last one had been faster and less complicated than the others, and I thought I had figured out what to do. Good chiropractor, walks every morning, red raspberry leaf capsules, 6 dates almost every day by the end, and even better, doing the Spinning Babies essentials video often, to be well aligned. The exercises helped me have less back pain during pregnancy, but this labor was one of my longest yet…

Things started well. Signs of labor began the night before. After walking the lake with Hadassah, I realized while playing Wingspan with Ryan that the contractions I'd had here and there for weeks were actually hurting and occurring while sitting down. That was new! It was 10 PM and I discovered I'd lost the mucus plug: a sure sign! But I knew I’d need sleep (past experience!) so made myself lie down at 11 PM. I slept fitfully before waking at 3 AM with more regular contractions. I got dressed, ate some, cleaned some, then did the Spinning Babies video at 5 AM to be relaxed and aligned. It felt great! I took a short walk, and by 6 AM contractions were hard and every few minutes. I texted friends and family, who congratulated me since it looked like I would have the baby ON his due date, July 18^th! I called my midwife to come and then started to feel cold and shaky. Transition? Things were happening and seemed on track. By 9 AM I was dilated to an 8 and hoping my water would break as contractions were very painful and I even felt somewhat like pushing.

But no matter what we did, with all kinds of positions from squats to side laying, walking, rebozo, resting, shower, toilet, birth ball, hands and knees, walking the curb and more, nothing seemed to make progress. Sometimes contractions would speed up and I'd feel cold and shaky again. Then things would slow down a little. Pain was intense in my back most of the time, but a few times more in front making me hope the baby had descended. Hot showers, warm rice packs, and Ryan’s hands pressing on my lower back helped. But I got tired and discouraged as labor went on ALL DAY. We even tried a coffee enema, as it had made Owen descend and engage and be born quickly, but it had no effect. Three of my labors had begun like this, the night before, but the babies had been born at 1 PM, 11 AM, and 11:45 AM respectively, so by late afternoon I wondered if Josiah would ever come.

I had music playing. The songs reminded me to trust God, even when “the road ahead is hard and you don’t know where to go.” “When trials come, no longer fear, for in the pain our God draws near…” And it was true. I feel so close to the Lord in labor, as I go through the intense sufferings, “knowing that suffering produces perseverance... and hope does not disappoint.” I read and prayed through my labor verses. When everything is so painful, reflecting on what He suffered for us is a comfort. Being reminded that “these light and momentary afflictions are preparing for us an eternal weight of glory.” Knowing that “He who began a good work in you will bring it to completion.” All things that ultimately point to heaven, but a reminder that He is with us through the hard moments here too.

And yet, as the day wore on and on, and I felt like I was wasting my midwife’s time (though she reassured me that I wasn’t), I grew discouraged. Why does my body always seem to have such trouble letting go of my babies?? My friends’ births seem to get easier and quicker the more they have. And each of my previous labors had gotten a few hours shorter each time. So why was this happening? It is hard to bear pain that intense that long and not feel depleted and done.

And then around 5 PM it seemed like dilation was regressing - no longer an 8, more a 6. Cervix seemed thicker too. We encouraged the midwives to go have supper and went for a walk. That produced terrible contractions and back spasms so I could barely make it back home and inside. They had said my contractions didn’t seem hard enough to really do much. Then why did they hurt SO much? And yet, no lasting progress. Dilation was less than what it had been.

The midwives were gentle and encouraging. Birth takes time. But they had tried pretty much everything. They could give me Benadryl to try to get sleep and hope things picked up. My energy was definitely low, despite having eaten what I could throughout the day – mostly popsicles and ice cream and a few bites of “real” food. But there were some questions. We weren’t sure if my water had broken – it may have leaked, in which case we didn’t want to be in labor too long. And, since the head wouldn’t fully descend/engage, they wondered if it could be due to a wrapped cord. If nothing else, the hospital could give me Pitocin to kick things up a notch and perhaps get things moving. The doctor that knew them and worked well with transfers was on call and willing to take me if we went to the hospital. But they put no pressure and left it up to us, which I so appreciate.

At that point, I couldn’t imagine sleeping with the pain, and I didn’t want to wait another day if intervention had to be done anyway. It seemed worth checking to see if water had broken (they could test fluid at the hospital) and even getting an ultrasound if needed to check on the cord. Plus, they wouldn’t immediately admit us – we could get checked and then still go home if that seemed best. I was so low emotionally, though, I pretty much expected that I might get a c-section, a fear I always had in going to a hospital, since my babies tended to be so big. But I was so tired of the pain that I thought “at least the baby would be out and this would stop.” So, better safe than sorry, we threw a few things in bags, packed for the kids to stay overnight with the grandparents they’d been with all day, and headed to the van. Thankfully my contractions were at somewhat of a lull so I could handle a car ride with a warm rice back behind and in front. I’d gotten smart and made two rice packs this time, so I could have one while another was microwaved, or even have both at once.

As we drove, though, I still couldn’t believe we were going to the hospital. I’d had four home births. I’d hardly even had a hospital bag packed, as transferring at never happened before. Why oh why was it happening this time, when I had tried so hard to do everything right? But we talked through things and agreed we hadn’t done anything differently than before. And even though I wondered why, I clung to the fact that God was in control.

Everyone we encountered as we checked in to the hospital was very kind. Due to Covid protocol, I was only allowed one support person in the initial room, so my midwife came first, to give answers the nurse would have. That nurse immediately put me at ease, telling me I could do what I wanted, didn’t need to stay in bed, etc. Instead of the condemnation I expected to hear or feel for having tried a homebirth and needing to transfer, they were encouraging and understanding. After monitoring contractions for a while (which was interesting to me, as I’d never had them monitored on a screen before!), she asked if she could check dilation. When she did, she said I was definitely an 8 though had a lip (which midwives had felt too). But instead of a hard cervix, she said the rest was just melting away as she felt it. Head was at a 0 position too – ready to go!

I was astonished. The midwife and nurse talked about how sometimes this seems to happen, the car ride just helps moves things along or something. But in the car contractions had SLOWED – I’d only had a couple on the 15 minute drive, and they hadn’t been that intense. Maybe it was the rest I’d needed though. Who knows? I was just grateful that nothing was wrong. The nurse said she’d felt the head and didn’t feel a wrapped cord, so no worries there. And, she said the fluid test indicated the water had broken.

My midwife left so Ryan could come to me, and we tried to determine whether to stay, or go back home. The nurse said I was so far along, the baby could be born on the side of I-565 if we left, though I didn’t see that happening, given that the pushing stage always takes at least 30 minutes for me if not more! But I was still a little afraid of getting home and labor stalling or reversing again, and then needing to go back to the hospital. Once the baby was born and I was stuck in the hospital room and missing the comforts of home, I wished I had just trusted and gone home. But in the moment, I didn’t want to mess up what seemed to be working. And as soon as we decided we’d be admitted and started walking down the hallway to the labor and delivery room, things started kicking into high gear. Had it just been my discouragement preventing things from happening? Now that I knew everything was ok, things were working? Who knows.

I remember the hallway was lined with beautiful photos of newborns. I got to see them up close because it seemed every few minutes I had to stop walking because the contractions hurt so much. At this point the rice packs had cooled and I felt I had no way to manage the pain. I started getting so cold and shaky that by the time I got to the room and they asked if I wanted to change into the hospital gown, I couldn’t imagine taking off my robe, and declined.

The time in that room passed in a blur of pain. It was probably 8:30 PM or so, but I had no consciousness of time. I went from place to place trying to get comfortable. Squatting while holding on to a counter, one nurse came over and started doing all the things they do, getting the fetal monitor attached (I had no clue they had to use SAND PAPER on the skin to get it to stick -ouch!) and sticking an IV point in my arm, another ouch. But compared to the intense, back breaking pain, they were minor annoyances.

I moved over to the couch, and tried to lean against the back of it as I labored, but it didn’t feel much better. I tried the bed, and had the same annoyance of the fetal monitor being pressed into my belly when I leaned over. Somewhere in there they gave me a stack of papers to sign, which I tried to do between contractions. The doctor appeared at one point, and leaned in to say hello, as I was facing the back of the bed at the time. I tried to smile amidst the blur of pain – she really was a kind doctor and I was grateful she was the one on call. But I was barely conscious of anything. I was thankful the doctor and nurse just hung in the background letting me labor, while Ryan pressed on my back and supported me and my midwife stayed close by and suggested things here and there. At one point she asked if I wanted a squat bar brought for the bed, and that sounded like a good idea. I also asked Ryan to turn the labor music playlist back on.

I think it was soon after – or maybe just before – they installed the bar that the rest of my water broke. Suddenly there was a huge gush and liquid everywhere. I was all wet and icky, but things were happening too fast to do much about that. Finally, progress! The huge gush of water is what usually brings on the baby, and this was no exception. I started feeling like pushing for real!

I used the squat bar and it seemed to take a while, but I don’t think it was much longer than 30 minutes, if that, before the head was almost out, with that ring of fire feeling. And I heard Audry Assad’s song “I shall not want” playing:

“From the need to be understood
And from a need to be accepted
From the fear of being lonely
Deliver me O God
Deliver me O God

And I shall not want, no, I shall not want
When I taste Your goodness, I shall not want
When I taste Your goodness, I shall not want

From the fear of serving others
Oh, and from the fear of death or trial
And from the fear of humility
Deliver me O God
Yes, deliver me O God

And I shall not want, no, I shall not want
When I taste Your goodness I shall not want…”

My mind latched on to the repetition and prayed “yes, deliver me, O God!” And it also helped me let go in a way. This hospital birth was not what I’d chosen. I felt I’d let others down (silly me, but I felt it!) in taking all day of my midwife’s time, when it was “supposed” to be a quick and easy 5^th birth. I felt I’d let my husband down in planning for a home birth only to end up in a hospital, and paying for a home birth only to have to pay for the hospital too. Not that he thought that – but I knew it added extra stress. And I felt embarrassed. So many friends knew I’d done homebirth, and expressed wonder and admiration, saying they could “never do that!” And I’d smile and say it wasn’t for everyone, but that I felt safer and more comfortable at home. And here I was, having transferred to a hospital, for what turned out to be no real issue. I wished I’d been strong enough to stay a few more hours at home!! I didn’t know how I would explain to others why I’d ended up at the hospital. But. “From the need to be understood, and from a need to be accepted… Deliver me O God.”

And once again, though for many times that day it seemed like it would never happen, God delivered me. The head came through, and they told me to go slow and ease the body out. The sensation of that little body slipping out is one of the most incredible things. They brought Josiah Immanuel up and I couldn’t stop exclaiming “you’re here, baby, you’re finally here!” The wonder of finally getting to know my baby is pretty amazing. The pain all of a sudden ends and the rush of happy endorphins flood in. Everyone exclaimed over his big hands and feet and lots of dark hair.

His heart rate was lower than they wanted, so they encouraged me to rub him and talk to him. When that didn’t get it up, they asked if they could take him to stimulate him. Ryan said they laid him under some bright lights, and he immediately became more awake and cried and his heart rate went up nicely. After that they gave him to Ryan for some skin-to-skin with him while I delivered the placenta. Thankfully it came pretty easily with little pain.

Then I wanted to know, what day was it? Was it still the 18^th? After all that, did he actually come on his due date? I was pleased to learn it was just before 10 PM, so he did get a due date birthday after all. 😊 After nursing – which he took to pretty quickly and did for quite a while! – they weighed and measured him. 21 inches long (typical of all my babies) and 9 lbs 3 oz! After the last three were 10 lbs or just over, he seemed small to me, but big to all of the nurses, lol!

Now that he was here, I began missing home. We were tired – I’d only slept 2-3 hours the night before, and it was midnight before I got transferred to my room to sleep. Ryan offered to stay, but when we saw that I was on a twin mattress and the only thing he could sleep on was a narrow, slippery leather couch, I told him he should go home to sleep. Yes, I would miss him, but we had four other children he’d be caring for come morning. My parents and sister were having them spend the night, but they would probably want them back home the next day.

The nurses were attentive and thoughtful. Too attentive it seemed, as they came to check vitals every few hours and woke me up! I knew it was just protocol, and I didn’t sleep much anyway, between the sounds of the hospital and the new environment. I was used to the midwives checking things out thoroughly and then going home, letting me enjoy a good sleep in my own bed. Here I endeavored to fill out the form of when the baby nursed and pooped, missing Ryan who always changed those first diapers, and calling the nurse if I had to get out of bed to use the bathroom, per their instructions. After not having any of these regulations with my other births it seemed over the top, though I do understand their need to make sure all was well. And while everyone was so kind, I just wanted to go home, and expressed as much the next day.

The OB doctor told me as far as I was concerned, we were free to go. I was checking out just fine. But it was up to the hospital pediatrician as to when Josiah would be released. Ryan arrived early and we enjoyed having breakfast just us two. I was starving after hardly eating anything substantial the previous day. I’d managed to eat a piece of cheese on the way to the hospital and they gave me a ham sandwich at 11 PM which tasted amazing, but breakfast was my first real food in a while! The morning sun came in perfectly for Ryan to snap amazing pictures of Josiah, and we relaxed and enjoyed his newness. Then the kids arrived to meet their brother, and their faces were full of awe. Everyone wanted a turn to hold him, but we let Adam go first, since this was his first time to be a big brother. Then Adam kept trying to take him from everyone else for another turn. In an effort to help him understand the changes about to occur, I had explained to him the week prior that just like he was Hadassah and Ellie and Owen’s little brother, this baby would be HIS little brother. I think he took it to mean Josiah was all his, as he wanted him all to himself! But it was pretty cute, and I was glad he wasn’t jealous. In fact, he hardly paid attention to me, even though he hadn’t seen me at all the previous day, in his excitement to see Josiah. 😊

My parents came up after Ryan left with Adam, since there was a limit of two adults at a time, and they were there when the pediatrician came. The question of whether we could be discharged mostly came down to the fact that I hadn’t had a strep B test. Since a midwife doesn’t do cervical checks at prenatal visits unless particularly requested, it’s something I happily passed on. So, while the pediatrician kind of berated me for not getting it done, since the strep B test isn’t invasive “and the doctor is checking down there anyway,” it isn’t the same with a midwife. And while my midwife said she had cautioned me that in a hospital transfer they would want it to be done (with previous babies - I don’t think we even talked about it this time), I thought it was just a matter of whether or not I was given antibiotics in labor, not that I wouldn’t be allowed to leave the hospital for 48 hours following the birth! The doctor had asked me if I wanted the antibiotics when she showed up in labor, but I was in such a blur of pain I just said “no thanks” and didn’t realize (or wasn’t told) that it would affect my stay. If I’d gotten them it wouldn’t have been enough time to make a difference anyway, so I didn’t understand why it was such an issue. I knew there was a risk, and the pediatrician told me she’d seen babies take a turn for the worse with strep b. But it was a risk I was willing to take, especially as I looked up the risk factors and met none of them, and saw that even if I had strep B (which wasn’t likely) there was only a 1 % chance of the baby getting it during delivery. But, protocol is protocol.

So, it was another night, and maybe two if we followed the 48 hour rule exactly. That was disappointing. I hadn’t packed for a long stay, and hadn’t packed the bag coherently to have enough clothes or things like vitamins. We said goodbye to the kids, thankful my parents were willing to keep them yet another night. But we missed home. We talked about just checking out against medical advice – we weren’t prisoners, were we? – but I also didn’t want to make trouble for my midwife or the doctor that delivered me, since everyone had been so nice. I didn’t want others having to transfer in being viewed with suspicion about not following the rules. But at 3 AM that night as I had hardly slept between nurse visits and Josiah nursing, I had an awful, pounding migraine and could only cry, wishing my husband was with me and could massage my aching, tense neck and that I was home in my own bed. The nurse was kind and gave me motrin after the Tylenol didn’t work, and that thankfully took the pain away. But after another long day in the hospital, I was so very thankful to be released to go home at 6 PM – a few hours before the 48 hour rule, but the pediatrician begrudgingly agreed it would be ok. I still think I could have taken Josiah’s temp at home and monitored him, as that’s all they really did, but what’s done is done and all in all, I am glad there were no other complications!

So while this birth didn’t go as planned, maybe God had a purpose in it all. I have more empathy for other women and understanding of the hospital protocols. It isn’t as scary as I thought it would be - but I also thankfully had a very understanding doctor who is pro-midwives. And maybe God wanted to teach me more humility and trust in Him. I know more than ever that I am not in control when it comes to birth. Pain in childbirth was part of the curse of the fall after all, so should I be surprised that it is long and hard? And while I try so hard to be “good” at the things I care about, I can’t control this. I just can’t seem to get “good” at this childbirth thing. But I am so thankful for the children God has given, and that in the end I didn’t have any big complications or interventions to recover from.

And Josiah Immanuel is a darling. His name means “God heals and restores” and “God with us.” A wonderful reminder of the goodness of our God. The middle name we had changed to Immanuel a week before he was born, as Ryan was reminded of the presence of God through Psalm 73. It’s also the middle name of both of my Grandpas and my oldest brother, so it’s special to carry on the family tradition. We pray that Josiah will be someone who stands for truth and is zealous for the ways of the Lord like King Josiah in the Bible, and that he follows God like the Godly men in my family who share his middle name.

The Birth Story of Adam Timothy

Birth. It’s never easy. I hesitate to even apply the adjective “easier” to it, because it still came with so much pain! But by God’s grace, the birth of Adam Timothy Wolfe was “easier” than my others. Was it the weekly chiropractor visits for months leading up to it? The dates I ate *almost* every day from 36 weeks on? The raspberry leaf capsules I took each morning from 32 weeks on? While all of that may have helped, I am thanking God, who controls all things. And He used His people to pray. From friends praying for me during the birth to Facebook friends and even random strangers at the thrift store telling me they would pray that I’d have a better, faster birth, God answered.

The day started at 2:45 AM on Saturday, August 8^th. I woke to use the bathroom and felt cramping. Were those contractions, or did I just need to go really bad? I had a bowel movement – weird for middle of the night! – and yes, that was the mucus plug! Things were finally actually happening!

Later when the pains were hitting hard I questioned why on earth I had been so EAGER to go into labor. But at 40 weeks and 3 days, I was the latest I’d ever been and beyond ready to just go ahead and have that baby. I’ve always been someone who prefers to be early, and is embarrassed to be late. Motherhood has humbled me as these days I seem to more often be late than not, but I still feel irritated every time to never go early into labor. As if it were something I could control. 😉 Usually I hit the due date and things start happening. So to have another day, and another day go by… God showed me once again that “there is a time to be born” and He is in control, not me. Though I was trying quite a few of the natural remedies to see if anything could help labor along! Eggplant parmesan, pineapple, 2 ½ mile walks around our lake… And while I had Braxton hicks contractions all day and harder ones at night, my body seemed determined to keep this baby in.

So, despite the early hour. I was excited! And instead of going into labor at 9 PM and getting barely any sleep (as with my previous 3), I had gotten almost 5 hours of sleep and was feeling ready. But, knowing it still might be a while, I did lay down and try to sleep. Finding that evasive as my mind whirled and the contractions, though very mild, were consistent, I moved to the living room so my tossing wouldn’t wake Ryan. I knew he would be excited too, but also a bit disappointed that I was going into labor on Saturday, the one day he preferred nothing happen as it’s his off caffeine, catch up on sleep day. But babies don’t take orders!

I ate some oatmeal (in case food didn’t seem appealing later on), caught up on my Bible reading plan, and messaged a friend in China. It’s nice having a friend on a 12 hour time zone difference when you want someone to talk to and pray for you in the middle of the night. 😊 Jess encouraged me to seek the Lord and trust Him no matter how long things took. As the morning dawned, I texted a few friends and family and asked them to pray for perseverance and strength, “as based on past labors we may be in for the long haul, all day or even into the night.” Though everyone was praying for a shorter labor, I knew to set my expectations low, otherwise I would be disappointed and might use my energy too quickly.

I lay on the couch again from 5-6 AM, then because things were not too intense – though I could tell they were real contractions, just light ones – I went for a walk. Not all the way around the lake, but a good 40 minute one to see if it would encourage progress. As I walked home I texted my parents to ask if they could get the kids after breakfast.

The girls were super excited when I told them I was in labor, as they’d been asking me every day for over a week when Adam would come. They busily packed their own bags with clothes and toothbrushes and special toys in case they’d be at the grandparents’ house overnight while I got Owen’s things ready and Ryan made breakfast. And then they were off, and we had a lot we wanted to do before birth, but first both Ryan and I collapsed on the bed for 45 minutes. Having been through three long labors, we knew we needed to do all we could to conserve strength!

When I didn’t feel like laying down anymore, I texted my midwife to see if she had any suggestions for getting labor going more, since it had been 6 hours of regular but light contractions. She suggested a few things which I did while Ryan mowed the lawn. By 10 am the contractions did feel a little harder! I even got chilled inside in the a/c and went to the backyard for some sunshine for a while. Hormones were definitely doing something. I realized I might not have much more time to get things done, so attacked my chores: dishes, bathrooms, getting the guest room ready. I even was able to eat two muffins and a burrito for lunch. Not being up all night meant food actually still sounded good. And I had more liquid chlorophyll, something I’d been doing for a few weeks due to some low platelet counts.

Ryan also ate an early lunch, and got ready for his normal Saturday nap. But things started picking up rather quickly around noon. I went from telling him “take your nap early” to “you’re not going to have a long nap” to “I’m afraid you’re not going to get ANY nap” over the course of 30 minutes. I’d been wearing my belly band which helped with some of the building pressure in my back and abdomen, and had started heating the rice pack to stick in it for the back pain. Soon even that wasn’t enough, so instead of napping Ryan quickly deconstructed his work desk in our bedroom to make room for baby’s bed, and started massaging my back, gulping coffee in the minute or two breaks between contractions.

I called my midwife to tell her it was time to head our way around 12:30 PM. Things had gotten to the point where I couldn’t move or hardly talk through contractions, and they were happening every 2-3 minutes. With the past labors, this pattern would continue for 8+ more hours, and I really didn’t want to call the midwife too early just to have her hang out all day with nothing happening. But I knew that were I going to the hospital birth, I would definitely be leaving for the hospital then, so figured I should ask her to come. And at that point I was very glad SHE was the one in the car, and not ME. Sitting down was quite painful!

She lives almost an hour away, so by the time 1:30 PM rolled around and she showed up, I was anxiously watching the clock and hoping she would arrive. Things were very intense. Each contraction had me leaning on the counter while Ryan kneaded my back with all his might. Often I held the warm rice pack on my belly as the pain wrapped all the way around. The music playlist I’d made played encouragingly in the background, and the verse cards I’ve used with each of my labors were in front of me. Each time I feel a closeness to Christ as I endure labor pains, knowing “that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us.” (Romans 8:18) Labor pains are a result of the fall, and cause me to long for heaven more. “Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day.” (2 Cor 4:16) I am so thankful for God’s Word and the comfort it brings.

When the midwives arrived – I was blessed to have three at my birth, as my main midwife has a few friends and trainees she works with – they could tell I was pretty far along. They took my blood pressure and listened to baby’s heartbeat, but never once suggested I needed to get checked for dilation. At that point lying on my back in bed sounded like the worst thing in the world, so I was once again very thankful for their laid back, non-invasive approach. They are happy to check dilation if I request it, but don’t push it. I focused on breathing and meditating on Scripture during contractions, while also trying to find ways to ease the numb feeling in my right leg. Baby must have been pushing down on a nerve or something, as it was uncomfortable not being able to fully support my weight on both legs. But kneeling or sitting just felt worse.

I moved to the bathroom and tried to empty my bladder, but just couldn’t. I didn’t want to move far by then, so I labored next to my bathroom counter and even started feeling a bit like pushing. I squatted, and felt an explosive burst. My water had broken! Ryan and I looked at each other in disbelief. It was only 2:30 PM, but since my water never broke until I was in the pushing stage, suddenly it became real. We WERE going to have a baby that afternoon. Wow! I had hoped and prayed for a day time labor and delivery, and God was answering!

I was encouraged and ready to have our son! But the pain. Oh the pain. It doesn’t get easier the more children you have. If anything, I know what to expect, and have a harder time pushing into MORE pain, knowing what that ring of fire entails. And my back and abdomen just hurt so much. I tried many different positions. Standing, squatting, hands and knees, sitting on the toilet, leaning forward, leaning back. For a while my midwife, who is a pretty petite woman, braced herself against the birthing ball while I half reclined against her, with my full weight on her. I was amazed she could hold me, but it felt good for a bit and let me rest a little, so I wasn’t going to move! The other midwives kept giving me sips of a refuel drink to keep up my energy, and Ryan continued to be amazing, using his strong hands to give my back relief. Though little by little I realized I didn’t need back pressure as much… It was hurting more in front now. Was baby close to delivery?

It felt like the pushing stage lasted forever, but in reality, it was only about an hour. I felt like I couldn’t fully engage down there, and a bulging varicose vein made pushing a bit uncomfortable too. They suggested sitting on the toilet again, but I didn’t last long. I stood, and then crouched, and gave a really good push complete with guttural yell. My midwife said she saw the head coming! At this point the playlist I’d made on YouTube had run out and it had just gone on to similar songs, so I didn’t recognize the one playing, but heard the words “it is finished, it is completed” and determined that I would push through the pain, I wouldn’t be afraid of the ring of fire… It was time to be done. I had been holding back a little feeling like I needed to have a bowel movement but couldn’t, so let go of inhibitions, and pushed with all I had. And by God’s grace, Adam’s head was delivered! It hurt intensely, but it meant I was almost done! I even heard a midwife say “hear him cry!” as he gave a little whimper. But then the contraction ended and I paused. But not for long. Suddenly all three midwives and Ryan were yelling “push, Anna, push! Get this baby out!” and I leaned forward and pushed and pushed with all I had, yelling through it. Over and over until, relief! His body slipped mostly out. I was on hands and knees and could see him hanging there and the last push to deliver him fully was easy compared to the others. My baby was here! And it was only 3:35 PM!

They then told me the reason for their yelling: Adam’s hnad had been delivered with one of his hands, causing a tight squeeze that caused him to start turning purple in the break between contractions. One of them helped ease him out a little with the next push, and he soon cried and started pinking up just fine, especially after coughing up a little mucus. While the end was a bit scary (I’d been through yelling midwives twice before, with the girls both having shoulder dystocia), we were praising God for such a quick labor and delivery, compared to past experiences. And as we’ve watched our little one this past week, we see him with that hand tucked next to his chin quite a bit, so evidently how he was delivered is how he is comfortable!

The midwives got me situated, laying on our bathroom floor – the exact spot I’d delivered Owen two years prior! It’s amazing how pain ceases when you hold your newborn baby. But also how quickly the body changes… I went from sweating and feeling so hot to shivering, but the midwives quickly covered me with towels warmed in the dryer, which felt so good. Ryan and I basked in the beauty of this fresh gift from God, admiring Adam’s every feature. He pretty quickly latched on and nursed for a good long while too, while the cord was still attached.

Not too long after, the placenta came. Previously it had taken a while and I’d had to change positions, so it was nice to just have it slide out while I continued laying down. After about 45 minutes I was ready for a shower, so Ryan got skin-to-skin time with Adam while I washed all the blood and goo off. Birth is messy! But the midwives had everything cleaned up in no time. They got me situated in bed, inspected a slight tear – but so small I barely felt it and it didn’t need stitches – and we got another hour cuddling our baby and eating some food the midwives prepared. We were amazed at how much energy we had too. Day time labors are so much easier to handle than night ones!

Adam nursed some more while Ryan and I watched him in awe, and then was weighed and measured. 10 lbs even, 22 inches long, and every measurement from head to chest was exclaimed over – he is a big child! While I have tried to figure out how to have smaller babies, being careful to not overdo sweets, etc, with this as my third 10 pounder, I’ve resigned myself to it. If ever I have an “early” baby maybe they’ll be smaller, but since I can’t seem to go into labor early… Well, we enjoy our newborns who quickly fit 3 month old clothes!

One of the meanings of Adam is “to make” and Timothy is “honoring God.” Whatever he makes in his life, be it with his hands, his words or his imagination, we pray He honors God through it. And we pray that in all things, He looks to Christ, the Second Adam, who came to redeem us from sin’s curse and be our Savior.

We rejoice in this amazing, precious gift from God.

 

The Gospel: Life for Me

In Sunday school, we went through the book The Gospel Primer. At the end, our assignment was to write a poem or hymn about the Gospel. Ryan wrote a really cool hymn set to the music of Ode to Jupiter. My brain works a little differently, so I went with a poem that reflects on how the Gospel has impacted me in each season of life. It is encouraging to see God's faithfulness.

 “For God so loved the world,

He gave His one and only Son…”

I learned the Gospel with my ABC’s,

Until its truths my heart had won.

At four, I knew that God loved me,

Knew of His sacrifice so great;

It gave me peace and sweet assurance,

Even at such young an age.

In our family I see God’s faithfulness,

Passed from each generation to the one ahead.

Great-grandmother, grandma, mother…

To God their children have they led.

Through the Gospel each year I grew,

Convinced of the Bible’s Words so true;

At 12 I pledged again to serve my Lord

As faith and devotion sprang renewed.

The Gospel gave me strength to stand

Against the world’s whims and wiles.

Trusting God’s Word above all else

 Gave strength through each teen trial.

In singleness the Gospel was sweeter still,

To know my Savior’s amazing, personal grace.

To know that if my life looked different –

Well, He had assigned me my place.

His faithfulness was evident again

When He brought me to my man;

To serve together with Gospel-driven hearts:

This was our joyful plan.

As I became a mother,

I marveled at the Gospel once again.

That God would give His only Son –

I imagined the greatness of that pain.

The Gospel sustained me as we moved

Into a foreign land.

The hope of heaven was more real

As I felt earth not my home firsthand.

The Gospel gave a strong place to cling

When loneliness struck time after time.

His faithful plan, foreknown ages past

Included me here; what peace is mine.

The Gospel showed me how we have such hope

When all around were those that didn’t.

To know the end, the goal, the place –

I prayed my friends would see the difference.

When our baby died while in the womb,

The Gospel promised that life has purpose.

It was rest and peace amid the tears,

And one day faith-made-sight assurance.

God’s faithfulness sustains me still

Through motherhood’s demanding days.

I have the privilege now to teach my own

The wonder of God’s truth and ways.

That Jesus died on a cross for us –

It’s my two year old’s favorite story.

So simple, and yet so profound.

May I never fail to give Him glory.

The Birth Story of Owen Isaiah

On Sunday, July 29^th, 2018 our son Owen Isaiah Wolfe, was born. I had joked to Ryan the week before that since he was named after a Puritan theologian (John Owen) and a Biblical prophet (Isaiah), it would be fitting if he was born on a Sunday, the Lord’s Day! And though he didn’t come that day like I’d hoped, he was indeed born on a Sunday the following week…

He was my third birth – my sweet promise of new life after a miscarriage. And, though my past births had involved longer labors, I had hopes for a shorter, smoother delivery. It seemed everyone I talked to said their third was early and easier, and I took steps to aid toward that. I went to a physical therapist to improve back aches and posture with various exercises, and saw a chiropractor weekly in the final weeks of pregnancy, to try to be in the best alignment possible. I faithfully walked every weekday morning before the girls were awake, and tried to avoid sweets and eat healthy overall.

But birth is unpredictable. Birth is messy. Birth doesn't usually follow your plans.

After all of my hopes for a baby born BEFORE due date were extinguished, we made it to the due date, Saturday, July 28^th. We went for a 2 ½ mile walk around the lake the night before, and there was a full moon, so I had hope that something would happen soon! First thing in the morning I lost my mucus plug, and soon after light contractions began. I’d been having Braxton Hicks for weeks, but they never started this early, and these “felt” more, so I had hopes it was the real thing.

But I tried not to read too much into it, and did normal morning chores, puttering around cleaning up, and pushing the girls on the swing as I texted my midwife – “there’s the good possibility something will happen today.” By 10 AM, I was distracted enough that dealing with normal kid squabbles just felt harder. My thoughts and emotions were elsewhere. The contractions continued, though still very light. But I told my parents what was going on, and they decided to take the kids out for a day of fun: a visit to the local kids museum and eating out with their cousins. After all, this was my third. Things could progress quickly – right?

Not really… I went around the house tidying things up – for who knew when I’d be up to cleaning again? – and Ryan tackled the final two things we wanted to complete on our room before the baby was born: hanging decorative hooks for our robes and putting a Scripture decal on the wall. Our beautiful room was finally done, and just in time! I’d be spending a lot of time back there with a baby, and it would be a beautiful retreat.

It felt really quiet around the house, with the girls gone. We wondered if maybe we shouldn’t have sent them away for the day, and told my parents things weren’t really progressing and they could bring them home if they wanted. But they were busy having fun, and so we enjoyed a time of rest. We took a nap (as best as I could with the distraction of some contractions), went for walks… I wrote a letter and did a few more tasks. Waiting, hoping. It so weird when you’re hoping for pain, but I really wanted this baby to come! I received news that a friend had given birth to her son that morning, and thought how cool it would be if our sons shared a birth date! But… nothing to report, though the contractions felt harder.

My parents brought the girls came home, we put them to bed, and tried to settle down ourselves. I knew from past labors the importance of getting rest when you can, so though by this time my back hurt enough to use a heated rice pack on it, I laid down and tried to sleep.

I got about 1 ½ hours before intense pain woke me around midnight. These were definitely real. I couldn’t stand laying down anymore, so warmed up the heating pad, got my Scripture verse cards to meditate on, and sat on the exercise ball to time contractions. They were about two minutes apart, a minute long, and very intense. At least things hadn’t fizzled out! Maybe we would have a baby soon! Ryan woke and saw me sitting on the ball – my common labor position – and instructed me to call the midwife right away. She had to drive an hour, and he wanted to make sure she came in time.

Before long it was to the Ryan-push-on-my-back stage with contractions, and I read and prayed through Scripture to get through each one. “I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us…” (Romans 8:18) and “To this end I labor, struggling with all his energy which so powerfully works in me.” (Colossians 1:29) Each time I’ve been in labor, the verses I memorized as I teen and wrote on notecards as labor aids have never ceased to be both applicable and life giving.

“Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author of our faith, who for the joy set before Him endured the cross, scorning its shame…” (Hebrews 12:2) With labor pain, meditating on the much MORE intense pain Christ went through on the cross is always so amazing. He went through that for me… I can endure this for His glory, in His strength. “For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen.” (2 Corinthians 4:17-18) We also had my labor playlist playing in the background, so words from songs gave me truth to meditate on as well. What a blessing music is!

My midwife, her assistant, and her trainee arrived around 2 AM. They took the baby’s heartbeat – very strong! – and though we told them to settle in for sleep in the guest room if they wanted, they stayed close by in the living room. They told us later that, with the intensity of pain they saw I was going through and the contractions about a minute apart, that they expected things to happen quickly.

Those minute on – minute off contractions, with intense back pain, are always so hard to endure. It never really gets easier, even third time around. I felt bad for Ryan too (though he always told me I was silly for even thinking that!), as he was tired, and battling a sore throat on top of it all. He had a minute of pressing as hard as he could on my back, then a minute to collapse exhausted or run to the bathroom or to microwave the rice pack yet again before I was calling out – “another one!” just 60 seconds later. Thankfully the midwives were wonderful, and stepped in for Ryan a few times so he could eat or have a tad longer break. But no one’s hands were quite as strong as my husbands, and I appreciated how selflessly he used them to help me.

And so the night wore on… As expected, with how long it took things to progress the day before and the intense back pain, whenever the midwife felt baby’s position, she would feel parts in front, indicating an OP position. “Sunny side up” again. Despite all of my walking, exercises, chiropractor… It was a bit disheartening that ALL of my babies turned out OP. But I had birthed two others. This one would come…

It just takes time. By 6 AM I was ready for her to do a cervix check. As terrible as it felt to lay on my back for a few minutes, I was aching for news that it was almost over… But while I was dilated to a 7 or 8, she said baby’s head was pretty high, and that he was still OP.

Throughout the night and into the morning, we tried many things to get the baby to turn. Side lying with my legs propped, using a rebozo, standing, swaying, lifting one leg, anything to get him to just turn around! I changed birth positions many times, from the ball to leaning against a couch or the wall, to the toilet to walking. I went outside on the porch to get sunshine, tried relaxing in our huge tub in warm water. Anything I could do, we tried. And we prayed. “Lord, bring Owen. Make him come, Lord!”

I felt completely drained, too. This wasn’t longer than my other labors, but it felt like it. And the pain became even more intense, continuing across my back and spreading in the front as well. For a while I had two people on me at all times, one squeezing my hips to relieve the back pain and another holding the heated rice pack in front. And I began to get discouraged.

“You aren’t made to birth babies” – the thought kept coming. I resisted the lies of the enemy, knowing God had made me able to give birth before. But with no visible progress, and thinking back on the stories of friends who gave birth in just a few hours, I felt so just bad at this. Crazy, because I know there really wasn’t anything else I could have done. Hard, long labors must be my cross to bear. I resisted, but the tempter knew my moment of weakness and kept whispering it to me. I had reached my pain threshold, my energy was depleted, and instead of working through the contractions, meditating on Scripture, I just endured them, and somewhat fought against them, which didn’t help at all. I even contemplated this baby just having to be my last one, because I didn’t know if I could go through this again. Anyone who knows me knows my life-long dream is to have a large family, so this shows how intense things were!

Finally, around 10 AM, I asked to be checked again. Surely there had to be some progress? But no – if anything I had regressed. I was more of a 6 now, my cervix was thickening, and the baby’s head was even higher. Nooo…. I sank back on the bed, and moaned. Defeated. We began to seriously consider transporting to the hospital. Even a c-section seemed better than continuing to endure this pain for who knows how long. Because, based on past births, once I was fully dilated and the baby’s head finally did engage (and this baby showed no signs of doing that!), there were still hours of pushing ahead. And I just didn’t know if I could last even another hour.

Ryan texted both sets of parents that we were considering a hospital transport. And people began praying. There were already some praying, but I know the prayers got kicked into higher gear.

But baby’s heartbeat was still strong, so at least there wasn’t any rush to do anything fast. If baby showed distress, we would have gone, no question. But with the intensity of pain, and sitting still being one of the WORST positions for me to deal with it, I also didn’t want to sit in the car for 20 minutes in order to get to the hospital. But, if we had been there, believe me, I would have considered an epidural! Again, not characteristic of me. But I was so so tired I could barely keep my eyes open. Curling up on the bed looked so nice, but then if I tried, the pain soon got me up again…

My midwife suggested going for a walk up and down the driveway, so I did with Ryan and L, her trainee. While out there I finally brought myself around to doing the last thing my midwife had suggested: an enema. I was feeling a tad constipated which increased back pain, and she said the enema could bring on harder contractions, which might bring baby’s head down. While any increase in the level of pain sounded like something to avoid, and an enema sounded like the most gross and uncomfortable thing ever, I was desperate, and wanted to try anything we could before going to the hospital.

So the midwife prepared a coffee enema. As I’ve never ever liked coffee, Ryan joked after the birth that I would never be able to say anything bad about coffee again. 😉 They administered it, I lay on my side for as long as I could, and then went to the bathroom. And Ryan started praying out loud. Strong prayers. Prayers full of hope. Something I could cling to as my brain just wouldn’t function anymore.

I also suddenly thought of chocolate ice cream. They had been trying to get me to eat to keep my strength up, but while I dutifully drank water with some electrolytes mixed in, and managed to get down some refuel drink, eating was really hard. I had choked down half a piece of zucchini bread at midnight, and had almost thrown up when they tried to get me to eat plain honey. I could only manage two raisins at a time, and chewing those took forever. But suddenly, chocolate ice cream sounded appetizing, so L ran to bring me a bowl and fed me a few bites.

Suddenly, my water broke! This was progress! It meant baby’s head had engaged! My water had always broken before when I started pushing. And as Ryan started praying, “Yes, Lord, give her another strong push, another contraction that does something” – I realized I WAS pushing. I was PUSHING! Maybe the end was in sight!

It’s amazing how fast we went from no hope, around 10 AM with news baby’s head was higher, to starting to push just an hour later, at 11 AM! The prayers of our families, friends, and my husband were making a difference!

The pain wasn’t as bad either – somehow the enema had cleaned me out enough to relax my back a little, and the front wasn’t painful anymore. Pushing started to feel good and I bore down with each contraction. Then, just a few minutes later, “I feel the head!” I yelled, and the two other midwives came running!

They spread things on the floor and yelled “hands and knees!” and I transitioned. Given my two past deliveries, where the girls got slightly stuck with shoulder dystocia, we had discussed birthing out of water this time, to see if that made a difference. That, combined with past experience to know better how and where to push, did seem to make a difference! I started yelling with the pain and exertion as I felt Owen crown. I hated that ring of fire yet again, but it meant he WAS indeed coming, and I WAS going to get him out! Ryan kept praying aloud and within 10-15 minutes on hands and knees, I felt my baby slide completely out. Relief! And no shoulder dystocia!

It’s amazing how quickly my most discouraging, seeming-to-not-progress labor changed into the best delivery I’ve had. I didn’t tear, I didn’t spend hours pushing, and Owen Isaiah, our “noble warrior” who declares “Yahweh is God!” was born safely. I had come to the end of myself, but God showed that He was more than enough. He was faithful to deliver me as we cried to Him for help. “The prayer of a righteous person has great power as it is working.” (James 5:16)

Now, if I had had to transport, and had ended up with a c-section, God would still get the glory! He often uses those methods to bring babies safely when there is no other option and I am thankful those options are available. We would praise Him still, if that had been the outcome. But, I am relieved that it wasn’t. We made sacrifices and paid out of pocket to use a midwife, and it was so nice that we were able to fully complete with her. With each of my births I would likely have ended up with a c-section had I been in the hospital, so I am thankful for skilled midwives who, while giving us advice on what to do if we decided to transfer, and leaving it up to us without pressure, had so many natural things to try. They continued positively and encouragingly, giving me hope to keep trying. Just seeing that they weren’t worried helped me to persevere. And I am very thankful, with how well I feel one week postpartum, that I avoided the harder recovery a c-section would have entailed.

But back to the birth. 😊 Those precious moments right after baby comes out are amazing. Instantly, all pain is gone, and you have a squishy, beautiful bundle in your arms. Birth is such a miracle. I heard Owen cry almost instantly (he was behind me, so I couldn’t quite see him yet!) and as they brought him through to my arms, I was overjoyed. He was so perfect in every way. He did cough a lot and took a few minutes to fully pink up – they finally suctioned him, which helped – but in no time he was breathing easily, protesting if we moved him too much or got him cold. They threw towels and blankets over us, and just let us enjoy bonding. Ryan came down to our level, and we enjoyed those precious moments.

Once the cord was done pulsating, Ryan cut it and he had a chance to hold Owen while I moved to the toilet to deliver the placenta. Thankfully it came without too much cajoling, and I got to take my celebratory shower. Birth out of water was definitely more messy! But before long, the midwives had that cleaned up, and we were safely ensconced in bed. And Owen started nursing and nursing! It’s amazing how babies are born knowing what to do!

We called and texted our parents the good news, and received relieved and joyful replies. Prayer is powerful. I remained in awe of what God had done as I held my son, born at 11:27 AM! It had been a long trial – 24 hours of labor, 12 of those really hard hours – but he was so worth it.

A weird and random coincidence, we learned later, is that at church that morning, during the final song, the organ hit a note and then cut out, and there was a sudden “pop!” as if something had broken. My brother-in-law whispered to my sister, “I wonder if the baby was just born?” and she looked at her watch. 11:27 AM. Who knows if God made an intentional connection there, but it was quite the interesting coincidence!

We heard the family come home while the midwives measured and weighed Owen. Despite my trying to eat healthy and exercise, Owen weighed in at 10 lbs 2 oz and measured 22 inches long, with a 14 inch head – a big guy, which, combined with the likely shape of my pelvis, explains why he took a while to come. My midwife thinks that when the head floated up, he finally turned to be AP, as he then engaged, came quickly, and was born in the classic position – NOT sunny-side-up. So, God works in mysterious ways. And since my blood sugar measured low during pregnancy, not high, giving no indication of gestational diabetes, it seems that for whatever reason, I just grow big babies. We may try to do a stricter diet next time to see if it helps (and amazingly, I can think of a “next time” now even though the memory of the pain is fresh!), but at least, as my midwife pointed out, I have birthed two 10-lb babies, so my body can do it. It just takes a lot of pain and a lot of time…

And a lot of prayer. But God is faithful. And I am praising Him for another wonderful gift of life.

A Chapter Ends.

I've put off this post for a while. Mostly because Ryan's new job didn't have his computer ready for two weeks so he had to bring our only working laptop and internet-capable phone to work each day. It turned out to be a blessing in disguise. Without the distraction of internet I got a lot more unpacking done and even started a daily tradition of reading for 30 minutes during the girls' naps. Yay for being 5 minutes from a library and house work taking SO much less time in America!

But mostly, it just seems so final. Our China chapter is done. There's so much to catch up on. So here it goes...

 After a week of packing and weighing and removing and repacking and too many goodbyes (TOO many...), we had our final dinner in Shanghai. Our last meal with this amazing group of people who became like family as we lived life overseas together. Our last tastes of yang rou char and the most amazing, fresh, thick yogurt with honey.

 The last dance on this stage. Not many restaurants can boast of one! ;)

 Our flight didn't leave until Friday evening, so Ryan took the girls out most of the morning so I could do the final packing and cleaning. Thankfully friends were going to move into our apartment, so we were able to leave a few things that didn't sell or get claimed as give-aways. So nice to have them willing to take care of it. Then, we made that final trek to the airport after teary goodbyes. It rained. Somehow that seemed fitting...

 And while we maxed it out at 8 maxed-out checked bags, a checked stroller, 2 rolling carry on suitcases, 3 backpacks, a diaper bag, a computer bag, and a carry on stroller, these two were still the cutest carry ons. ;)

Then, as we got there early to make sure all our bags got checked (thankfully there was no issue although a few were just over 50 lbs!), we had a lot of waiting to board our almost 10-pm flight. The girls did great all things considering, and mercifully slept for most of the flight. A couple who had just adopted a little boy graciously traded seats with us, so they could be all together in the middle aisle and we could occupy the very last 2 seat across seats on the side. Turned out to be perfect, as Ellie could lay across the two seats with me squenched on the ground in front of her. That way she could sleep comfortably and I could at least put my head on the seat and close my eyes, knowing she wouldn't roll off without rolling into me! But many many times I was glad this was our last 12 hour flight!

 After such a crazy flight, chairs for the girls to walk over and a strawberry smoothie was life giving.

 And at the end of the 30 hours or so of traveling, between three flights and three airports, having Ellie sleep on the last flight was such a mercy.

 Hadassah was more energized at the thought of seeing her grandparents and being in America. She told a stewardess very excitedly, "We're going to see my grandparents! First we're going to rent a house, then we're going to buy a house, then we're gonna get a pet!"

We were a bit crazy. But as we landed on Saturday morning and Ryan had to start work on Monday morning, we wanted to move in right away. My parents had wonderfully arranged the renting of a house we chose online, so we drove three hours (in four different cars!) to move in that day. But it didn't quite go as planned. We arrived and loved the house, though the first impressions of it were with girls who couldn't stop crying as we woke them up from their long car naps, and on jet lag it felt to them like the middle of the night. We discovered the water had gotten turned off because a leak had been detected and didn't have a wrench and couldn't find the valve in the mud. And my parents didn't arrive until almost 10 pm due to both of dad's back tires on his old truck SHREDDING, with him spinning around on the highway and ending up down in the median in the rain. But he was wonderfully okay. My mom was a bit behind so was able to stop and eventually find someone to replace the tires. It was all so so crazy. I told Ryan that if our first day was anything like what our life here was going to be, it was not a good sign!

So with no water and no parents there to help, we went to a hotel for the first night. It was comfortable, and the 24 hour Walmart provided food to eat when we were all wide awake at 2 AM on jet lag. Hadassah thought it was pretty funny to use a spoon as a straw for her yogurt. ;)

 The next day was much better, as we moved in with my amazing parents' help, and we discovered a lovely park just 2 minutes drive from home, against a beautiful blue blue sky...

 My sister who lives in town had brought over a ton of stuff her friends gave her for us (I'm still amazed at their generosity to people they didn't even know!) and also made a casserole to provide our first dinner in home on Sunday evening. With stuff my parents brought too, it was starting to feel like home.

 This chair was amazingly free from one of my sister's friends, and it has been SO comfortable. From bed time stories to cuddling jet lagged kids in the middle of the night, it has been a back saver!

 Then early Monday morning, Ryan was ready to go to work. First day at NASA. This man is seriously amazing. He did his first week still on jet lag, with long days learning things to craigslist pick ups in the evenings. He is incredible.

 And while unpacking plus jetlag plus girls ALSO on jetlag is NOT a good mix, it was aided a ton by our back yard. It's so easy to go outside. And our kitchen window overlooks it, so I can let them out as I do dishes. And tea parties are so much easier outside where I don't have to clean up the water they inevitably spill.

 Even amid the mess and stress of unpacking, with more whining and clinging that comes with jet lag, these two are such a bright spot amidst the chaos.

And having the help of grandparents all week was what made it possible. My parents stayed the first few days, then Ryan's mom arrived with her car stuffed full of wedding gifts we'd left stored in their basement. It's so nice to have a kitchen full of those amazing dishes and tools again! And we are enjoying this stroller friends in China gave (since elevator doors aren't wide enough for it there and sidewalks have poles on them preventing it from getting through!).

 We even found a park in OUR neighborhood, so perfect to walk to on warm evenings after dinner...

We truly love it here. What a wonderful, amazing blessing God has given to move us to this location of our dreams.

 And He keeps giving above and beyond! Mid way through the week we discovered that we had brought home an extra special gift from China! :D And yes, it gave me extra motivation to do as much as I could before morning sickness hit full force!

 We continued our letter-of-the-week fun the second week here, with treasure hunts for letter T made so much easier with our OWN back yard!

 And one of the best things about it is that the girls can go outside in their pj's! :) Our yard backs up to an open, empty field which adds a nice amount of privacy and nature. And yet we're just 5-10 minutes from so many stores and restaurants! It's crazy after being in China, where many things did NOT look appetizing, to pass so many things here that look delicious! ;)

 Our living room is great for twirls...

 And our yard has a little garden plot that Hadassah tends each day, pretending to water and dig and plant. Soon I hope to plant actual flowers and herbs to give her nurturing bent something to tend. :)

 We're swinging. OUTSIDE. Pretty much every day.

This one is LOVING all the outside time and being able to see grandparents more often, with them just a 3 or 4 hour drive away!

 There are wildflower bouquets given me,

 and picnics outside in the many green spaces around.

These two sweeties will continue to grow, and another will be added for them to embrace. Life is full and so so blessed.

We definitely do miss China. Especially the people. Goodbyes said on another continent are so much harder because there's no way of knowing if we will ever see those people again. Thankfully there are friends we know we'll see in heaven one day, but so many that don't have that assurance. We try to keep in touch, but it's not the same across the ocean....

But somehow "reverse culture shock" hasn't hit yet. Maybe because things are so much easier here. Laundry that was dirty that morning is clean and dry and in the closet again by noon. I hardly even have to iron as the dryer does it for me! My floors are not continually covered in dust so I don't have to sweep as often. The back yard and plentiful parks to drive to keep the girls happy and busy. And while the choices of what to buy can seem overwhelming, I'm loving the access to ALDI, the Walmart 5 minutes drive away, and the carts I can bring with kids and groceries straight to MY car waiting in the parking lot. No more struggling out the door with babies and bags in hand, hoping to find a taxi! And somehow, after a week of fresh air, Ellie's constant stuffiness, running nose and deep rattling cough disappeared. She'd had it for at least 6 months so it is pretty amazing (and wonderful!) to have it gone in a week!

I know there will be things we continue to miss. The cherry blossoms are full in bloom I've heard, and we're not there to see it. I miss walking 5 minutes over to my friends' house. We'll miss evenings discussing everything from politcs to parenting with our closest Chinese friends that felt like sister or brother despite the culture difference. As we've hardly gotten to know anyone as we're visiting a new church each week trying to find a place to land, the absence of community after having one so strong is especially hard. But, a new chapter is ahead. A new time to grow and connect and reach out. Only God knows exactly what it will look like.

And, as the China chapter ends, I'm bringing this blog to a close as well. It will stay online, and who knows, we may use it every now and then when we need a long post format. But with life just getting busier with a new baby on the way, and an ache for a more private life especially now that we're stateside, it's time. I'm relishing not being as connected online, with more time for reading and sewing and, hopefully soon, more in person connections. Of course I'll stay on email and Facebook and phone for long distance friends I definitely want to stay in contact with. But, at least for now, being an active blogger is a chapter that is ending once again.

To God be the Glory. Great things HE has done.