Called and Blessed

Gilead is Two!

2012-02-24T13:04:00.000-08:00

Gilead turned two on the 16th. I'm beginning to think that motherhood is one endless exclamation of "where did the time go?!"

When did my active, charming boy go from this...

to this?

In past three to four months he has definitely crossed the bridge from "big baby" to all-out toddler. Most notably, his vocabulary has exploded. He now speaks in complete sentences much of the time and uses words like "humongous."

We ate too much dessert his birthday week. Because I made too much dessert. However, because his birthday falls during tax season, celebrating a birthday during the week is nearly impossible. So I simply made chocolate bowls for ice cream and chocolate covered strawberries for his actual birthday.

I saw an ingenious idea for making chocolate bowls on Pinterest--blow up small balloons, dip the ends in chocolate, and then pop them when the chocolate is dry. It works beautifully.

They were a big hit.

However, because we were so transient for Gilead's birthday last year, I didn't really make him a cake. So this year I decided to do a special one. He requested an "owl cake" due to his love of Arnold Lobel's "Owl at Home." I didn't exactly do an owl cake, but he was please with the end result nonetheless...

There were some extra owl cake pops, so I let my expert taste testing panel have a preview...

There are so many amazing changes that take place during the "twos." I'm so much looking forward to traversing them for a second time with Gilead. We're blessed that God gave him to us as our second-born and first son.

Happy birthday to our not-so Little Guy!

Little Loves

2012-02-04T13:09:00.000-08:00

As life has settled down for us, I've been taking more time to enjoy the little moments. Moments that are seemingly insignificant. The ones that, I'm sure, cause working mothers to wonder just what it is that I do all day.

Here's a sampling.

Blue striped children.

Puzzling. This usually requires moderating about two "please help me, Mommy" sessions a minute.

Sleeping Babies

Tutued Dogs

Sibling love

Napping ballerinas

Fingerpainting. Prep time: 5 minutes. Painting time: 15 minutes. Cleanup time (including bath): 30 minutes.

But that smile makes all the time worth it!

Homemade donut consuming.

Moments with baby after the other children are sleeping.

Spilled sprinkle clean-up.

I take deep breaths. I moderate fights. I pray. I teach little people how to clean up, go potty, get dressed. I change diapers, read stories, tuck in. Memorize scripture. Panic over messes. Tell myself it isn't a crisis. Cook dinner. Explode the kitchen by allowing little hands to "help." Fold two dozen burp rags. Stain treat the pooped on onesie. Again. Try, and fail, and try again to be Christ to my children.

Nurture little souls. My little loves.

And I wouldn't trade it for the world.

In God's Grip

2012-01-27T10:55:00.000-08:00

Yesterday marked nine years since my father took his life. Nine years. Much has happened in my life in those years. An engagement. A broken engagement. Two major surgeries (four, if you count the c-sections). I married the most amazing man. I've given birth to three beautiful children. Spent 10 days with one those in NICU, fighting for his very breath. We've been unemployed, homeless, desperate, confused.

Employed. Delivered. Restored to health.

We have lived, as my dear husband stated when quoting Bonhoeffer in our Christmas letter, "in God's good grip."

I realize that this, for the most part, looks like a list of bad things. And they have, undeniably, been hard. Very hard. Many of them harder than I can yet articulate, or may ever be able to. Through them we have learned what it is to be thankful. To experience joy. When I reflect on these years, what I think of most are the lessons that I want to be able to pass on to my children. Things that we, as Christians, will often give assent to, but can't really understand until we've known them as reality. So, in that sense, there may be only so much that can be passed on to them. But I can only pray that my life will be an example, and that I will have words when they are old enough to need to hear them. That I might help them to do more than acknowledge these things as truth, but to live them.

I pray that my children will know true joy. That joy doesn't always equal happiness. Joy comes from God, and the knowledge that He working His good will in our lives in accordance with His good pleasure. We are His.

That blessing and provision don't necessarily look like the American Dream. Nor are we necessarily called to that "dream," or being irresponsible if we allocate our resources in other ways. If we are faithful, God will provide.

That compassion for the poor and needy looks more like foolishness to the world, and even to the church, than it does wisdom. We are called to mercy, to sacrifice. We must guard our hearts against finding our security in our money in the name of good stewardship. We have grace, freely given, and we are to extend that to others. Don't cling to your money at the expense of others. Remember that God provides, but that that provision doesn't always look the way we'd like it to.

So give. Trust God with your resources.

Because our security is in Christ, and Him alone.

To know that we, as their parents, are but weak reflections of a Father in heaven who loves them, cares for them, disciplines them and always does what he does in their lives for their good and His glory. If we fail them, He never will.

Knowing that trials do not mean a lack of love from God or that we are in deep sin. Trials bring growth in our faith. Through them we learn to truly see God for who he is, and ourselves for who we are. Nothing without Him. That His mercies are truly new every morning.

We are a people delivered from sin, from death, but not from the trials and hardships of this world. If anything, we are called to a life in this world that is hard. But nothing is impossible with Christ.

Thankfulness isn't a feeling. It is an act of faith, a deliberate, and often moment by moment acknowledgment of ways in which God has provided for us. This leads to joy. To contentment.

That nothing makes sense apart from a framework that is built upon the Gospel. Christ suffered for us, He died, He rose again, and He has gripped us.

It is a good grip. And it is a grip from which we will never be released.

All Moved In

2012-01-18T17:36:00.000-08:00

Actually, we've pretty much been all moved in for awhile. I just haven't had (or found), the time to post anything about it.

People often ask how we fit six people into 800 sq. ft. Well, here's how. And we're actually about to become five during the week. My mom just got a job an hour away--but she'll usually be back on the weekends.

The "nursery." Actually the west wall of our bedroom...

Here you can see how much clearance we have between "our room" and "the nursery."

The rest of the master bedroom/nursery.

Living room.

Same living room, different angle.

Entryway. That's the same recliner you saw in the last living room photo.

Doors to the bathroom, kids' room, and our room.

Kids' bedroom.

The other side of the kids' bedroom.

Original dining room on the house. The one we use was added later--you can see it through the doorway on the left. This one is a play/activity center.

Kitchen.

Dining room.

"The cave." There's a loft bed up on the left. This room was also added later. That window has no glass, and originally was on the outside of the house.

Kitchen, new angle.

Yes, it's tight, but we're pretty comfortable. That isn't to say that we aren't looking forward to having more room someday, but for now, we're thankful for a place to be.

But if you know someone who wants a cute, 2 bedroom, 800sq. ft. house in Wallowa, send them our way!

Christmas Letter 2011

2011-12-22T17:26:00.000-08:00

Unfortunately, it just isn't possible to send our Christmas letter out to everyone we would like to. Therefore, I'm posting here so that all of our loved ones can read it. Yes, its long, but it has been an amazing two years. Merry Christmas!

Dear friends and family,

Skipping a Christmas letter for a year doesn’t mean nothing happened. It means too much happened. Life was so unstable for so long, we had no context clear enough, no frame of reference solid enough to clearly understand all that was happening to us, let alone explain it to others. We are not unchanged. You can still recognize us, but broach the right subjects or catch us with our Bibles open and you’ll learn God has gripped us tightly since last we wrote, changing our outlook on many things – fundamental things, life-altering things. As our family marches toward the Advent of the Christ Child, we not only celebrate Christ’s birth, but the renewing of our hearts and minds in Christ.

Our lives since our last letter have been a series of trimesters. The first – the winter of 2009/2010 – brought us our second child. Gilead, who is now 22 months, is as much all-boy as his older sister is all-girl. He smiles quickly for the camera, plays the drums on everything, and loves his sister more than she realizes.

The second trimester saw the end of an era: grad school ended in May, less than two weeks before Mercy’s second birthday, and without pausing for breath, the fulltime job search began. But a hundred applications and half a dozen interviews later, there were no prospects, and we knew we had to leave Idaho.

The third trimester brought us to the Portland metro area, where we house-sat for friends who were away on a three month overseas business trip. We went to church with old friends, gave Mercy her first haircut, watched Gilead grow, and applied for fifty more jobs. Interviews came quickly, filled with promise, with opportunities to put down roots in Salem, Tri-Cities, and Boise. And as quickly as the interviews came, they stopped. Our friends returned from their trip, and due to the terms of their lease, they were unable to host us any longer.

We were adrift. Friends quickly showered us with offers of hospitality, and food stamps would keep our plates from being empty, but as we boxed up our possessions and put even more of our belongings into storage, we slowly realized – as if in birth pangs – that we had become something new: homeless.

The first trimester of this new life was by far the most difficult. Our mailing address was the home of friends living just outside the Portland metro area, but between Christmas and a pair of out-of-town interviews, we were never anywhere for more than two weeks at a time. The interviews came from networking contacts, not from the job boards which had gone dry, or from cold-calls which had proved fruitless, and when those interviews brought the end of our job search skin-close before casting it away, we lost hope. We thought about returning to school to try a new field. We thought about joining the military. And then, after reducing ourselves to what could fit in the trunks of our cars and changing our address one more time, there was a phone call.

It was a full-time staff accountant position, with full benefits and a good salary. And so the next trimester brought us to Silverton: ten minutes from work, twenty minutes from Salem, and forty minutes from church. We signed a lease for a three bedroom duplex with a garage and a fenced backyard. We fell in love with the town and established routines. Work was difficult but rewarding.

The first week of work was euphoric, a waking dream. The second week turned darker as the demands of the job weighed down heavily upon the thin foundation laid even by graduate school. The third week was a night-time storm with no coming sunrise and no moonlit breaks in the clouds. The CFO had underestimated the requirements of the job. The accounting manager couldn’t relate to someone with a degree. The open channels of communication so highly valued by the company were closed. We never heard them coming. Less than four weeks after the job was offered, it was taken away.

We wept. And we could do nothing but return to those same empty job boards and fruitless phone calls. Again, friends quickly came to our aid. Though we had no need of shelter, we were in desperate need of cash, and it was here, after hard work, natural talents, the free market, and every tenant of the so-called American Dream had failed us, that we realized the painful, glorious, agonizing, precious truth: it was all Grace.

The third trimester of this second life began with the realization that we were receiving that for which we had prayed, daily, since before we knew one another existed. We wanted to love our neighbors. We wanted to understand love. We wanted to know the roots of compassion. We wanted to be free of every preconceived notion standing as a barrier between us and the poor, the lonely, the downcast, and those who – as Bonheoffer put it – are gripped tight by God. And so God gripped us. We could feel His fingers cracking our ribs, and yet we knew we would never be dropped, could not hope to be dropped. We cried out daily and yet there was joy. It was not the joy found in pleasure. It was joy such as C.S. Lewis describes in Surprised by Joy: an overwhelming desire to reach for something wonderful that can only be held for moments at a time, something so wonderful that gravitas trumps giddiness. We could taste Grace in the air.

We were not lifted out of our troubles at this point. But we were given the strength to carry an even larger, more glorious burden. By this point we were well into expecting our third child, due in September. And by this point, Amber’s mother was unable to return to work because of old injuries that recent surgery failed to completely heal. Jan put her house on the market, and she and all that she had were welcomed into our home, for however long we could be in it. There was still no work – not even at Safeway or McDonald’s – but checks continued to come in the mail, some from dear friends, some from friends of friends who had never met us, all of them beloved of Christ. Our third child would be due soon, though we didn’t know what house or city or state he would be raised in, only that he would be ours, and we would do everything we could to teach him and his siblings how to live in God’s good grip.

The only solid job lead at the time came from a friend – a member of Jan’s old church and a partner of a small CPA firm on the other side of the state. An interview followed, and yet, after so many that had seemed so promising, hope was only a background hum, faith only a penlight in the night.

But there was Abel. He was born September 7^th, angry at the disturbance, but beautiful. He brought the facial features of distant relatives back into the gene pool, and he was the most tangible act of Grace we had received since the birth of his brother. Less than two days later he was taken by ambulance to a neo-natal ICU in downtown Portland for a breathing problem. The next day, after Abel had stabilized, after we were told the problem would resolve itself after a few days, after a night yielding only three and half hours of intermittent sleep, the cell phone rang.

We were born again.

The job was a full-time staff accountant position with a small but well-respected CPA firm in the very place from which we had just moved Jan. The irony of moving into Jan’s old house did not escape us. It was a strange time, almost a dream-like state as we once again packed up everything we owned, this time mixing Jan’s possessions with our own, moving into a house already familiar, to an area well-traveled on numerous trips, to a church who knew us as frequent visitors, and to a job that seemed too good to be true.

But it was true. And so we start this new life as children slowly waking. We remind ourselves daily of where we have been so we can better understand where we are. We remind ourselves that God’s grip – though sometimes painful – is nevertheless His. We approach Christmas with the lead-footed fear of children frightened by the sudden booming laughter of their parents. We are awestruck by the lowliness of the Christ-child, that He suffered as we have so that he may lead us through suffering. How many kings would do such a thing?

As we walk toward Christmas, we pray Jesus reveals himself to you as He revealed himself to us, though perhaps not in the same way or for the same duration. And yet, our hearts are hard, often requiring many thrusts into the fire and many blows under the hammer. We pray, then, that God gives you a heart of thanksgiving no matter your circumstances, and a joy so wonderful to grasp that it hurts to uncurl your fingers.

Love,

Ryan, Amber, Jan, Mercy, Gilead, and Abel

Abel and the NICU Part 4--"Healthy"

2011-11-08T12:49:00.000-08:00

Later that day Abel was moved from a warming bed to a normal bassinet. We later learned that, by NICU standards, this made him "healthy"--a term we soon learned was very relative in the NICU. And healthy means mobile. He was moved out of the pod that many of the cardiac babies were in (a good thing) and into another pod. It was only Saturday afternoon--a mere 72 hours since Abel's delivery, but it seemed we'd been caught in the middle of some crazy reality TV show forever at this point.

Now we settled into a pattern for the remainder of our time in NICU. The next morning mom brought Mercy and Gilead in for a visit, and we determined that it would be best for everyone if they stayed at our friend's home with us. For next six days we would wake in the morning, eat breakfast with Mercy, Gilead, and our friends, pack a lunch, and head out for a day at the hospital. We weren't able to see Abel between 6:30pm and 7:30pm, when the nurses changed shifts and updated one another on the babies in their care. Therefore, we would always return to see Mercy and Gilead and eat dinner with them. Then we'd tell them goodnight and head back to the hospital until sometime after 10pm. We typically arrived back at the house after 11pm, updated our hosts, fell into bed utterly exhausted, and then repeated the routine.

What matters in life comes sharply into focus at times like these. Though we were excited about Ryan's new job, employment suddenly wasn't the end-all it had been for months. In the NICU we weren't the typical group of post-partum mothers, either. We were hospital gown, sweatpant, and maternity clad mothers who didn't care about our waistlines or looking like we had it together. It was our babies that mattered. I didn't get to meet many of the other parents, but our faith and church family are what carried us through that time.

Our days in the NICU consisted of holding Abel and feeding him--or trying to. We did a lot of praying that he would actually eat. Most feedings I would be allowed to try to breastfeed him. When he seemed to tire we would then try to bottle feed him. He typically only took 5 to 15mL, and we were told he needed to be taking 45-50mL orally before he could be discharged. Once he would give up on the bottle, the rest of his milk would be syringed through a feeding tube.

The doctors made their rounds late morning. We looked forward to these updates and actually learning if Abel was making any progress. And he was. At least in the breathing department. By day 4 his respirations were down to about 80 per minute, and he was still oxygenating. However, four days is much longer than an infant should be having breathing and eating trouble with TTN, and by this point the physicians felt an echocardiogram was in order. I remember thinking "oh, good. Maybe we'll finally know what's going on." Then instantly realizing that I didn't want it to be anything that would show up on an echocardiogram. I'd rather just never know.

Blessedly, the echocardiogram came back normal. We'll simply never know exactly why Abel had a rough first week and a half.

On the evening of Abel's seventh day he actually nursed decently. He took 35mL from me. We began to feel some real hope. That was the morning that the effects of this time was really showing on our children as well. When we had left that morning Gilead turned and ran from us, sobbing. I began to cry, too.

The next day, Abel did even better--taking 45 to 55mL at the breast each feeding. We knew then that we would be going home very soon.

On Abel's ninth day we arrived at the hospital to find patient education handouts awaiting us and Abel minus his feeding tube. I'll never forget rounds that morning. "This is Abel M., and he's ready to go home."

Our time at Doernbecher is slowly becoming a blur. During that time we were blessed by wonderful physicians and caring nurses, many of whom were Christian. Life is just beginning to feel normal again. We arrived home from the hospital only to begin packing to move. A week and a half later we loaded a truck to move across state for that job Ryan had been offered.

God is indeed good--but sometimes that doesn't look at all the way we imagine it will.

Abel and the NICU--Part 3, "Reunion"

2011-10-18T14:56:00.000-07:00

True to her word, the doctor discharged me shortly after 7am. My mom came with Mercy and Gilead to pick me up. In the short, 5 minute ride home from the hospital I became so nauseated I spent the next several minutes hanging over the porcelain throne. The ride to Doernbecher was going to be over an hour, and it wasn't looking like I was going to be capable of getting through the trip there. The next couple of hours were spent acquiring a prescription for nausea that would allow me to join Ryan and Abel.

During those couple of hours Ryan called. He'd been offered a job. We couldn't process it. We'd been praying for work for over a year, and this was a tremendous answer to prayer. However, for the moment, the job was shuffled to the backs of our brains while the rest of our brains focused on our baby's survival.

It was near 11am by the time we were on our way out the door. We stopped to drop the kids off at a friend's home on the way. Joanna graciously offered to keep them overnight if it turned out that that would be helpful.

When we finally arrived at Doernbecher, signed in, scrubbed down, and got back to the "pod" that Abel was in we were greeted by a very tired looking, but encouraged Ryan.

Entrance to the NICU

Handwashing procedure. We had to do this every time we entered the unit.

Handwashing station. Those are knee pads below the sink that operated the faucets so that you didn't have to touch anything that might recontaminate you.

He and Abel had had several visitors from church, and Abel was improving. He was now off of oxygen and had even sucked on a pacifier for a few minutes, which was big news given his complete lack of a rooting reflex. Then they had me try to nurse him, and he latched on. In that moment I thought "we're going to get to go home tomorrow!" His respirations were still about double the normal rate, but he was oxygenating and seeming to want to eat. Those were both major concerns that seemed to be resolving.

By the next feeding I was utterly exhausted. I'd had a c-section a mere 48 hours before, had only slept 3 hours in the last 60, and there isn't anyplace to lay down in the NICU. I began to shake, and tearfully had to say that I couldn't hold Abel, let alone feed him. Apparently I really wasn't looking good, and Abel's nurse encouraged Ryan to take me down to the emergency room. She thought I was going into shock. Ryan did take me down, and we waited five hours to be seen. During that time my mom left to pick up the kids and take them back home. As it turns out I was just post-surgery, exhausted, and stressed out.

We spent a few more minutes with Abel before heading to a friend's home for the night. They were only 30 minutes from the hospital rather the 1 hour and 15 minutes we are from the hospital. We arrived sometime after midnight, and fell into bed utterly exhausted. Apart from having to wake up every 3 hours to pump I slept like the dead until after 10am. I awoke feeling much better, but also guilty for having abandoned my baby for so long. Ryan assured me that his nurses would be glad that I had gotten some rest. Regardless, I got showered and dressed as quickly as I could so that we could head back and see how Abel had progressed overnight.

When we got to the hospital our hopes of being discharged were dispelled. He wasn't eating, and his respirations were still over 100 per minute. At that point we knew that we needed to prepare ourselves for a longer haul than we had hoped for.

Abel and the NICU--Part 2, "Breath"

2011-10-04T10:46:00.000-07:00

Abel literally means "breath" or "vapor." We gave that a lot of thought before deciding to give him the name. Though Abel was given his name for the faith and righteousness of Abel as demonstrated in Genesis and commended in Hebrews 11, we thought that rather than being dismal, the meaning was a good reminder of what we truly are.

However, as Ryan and Abel left the birthing center and headed to Doernbecher's where Abel could be given the specialized care he needed, I remember thinking "oh God, no. We didn't mean it this literally." His name means breath--and Abel's breath was literally being taken from him. I hadn't meant that I wanted his life to be a fleeting vapor, and then gone.

I returned to my room to finish packing up to be sure I was ready for the early morning discharge I'd been promised, then tried to get some sleep. I hadn't slept at all the first night. The long-lasting morphine in the spinal causes me to itch so badly I'd rather be in pain. However, sleep was hard to come by. After an hour of fitful slumber I awoke, and after determining that they should be to Doernbecher by now, gave Ryan a call. They were there, and Abel was being set up in a warming bassinet. Nothing had really changed. His respirations were still at 150 per minute and he was in an oxygen tent.

By now it was after 2am. Ryan said he'd been told he could try to sleep in a pumping room (yes, a room for mothers of NICU babies to pump), and though he didn't want to leave Abel, thought he should try. I knew I needed to try to sleep as well. So, after pumping I settled back in to try to catch some much needed rest.

Abel and the NICU, Part 1

2011-09-21T11:31:00.000-07:00

If you're really wanting to know the details of this last week, it's going to have come in installments. So much happened, and there isn't any way to tell it without it getting rather lengthy.

When Abel's rapid breathing and lack of interest in feeding didn't resolve in 24 hours I began to push the nurses regarding what happens when 24 hours have passed. Abel was worse. He was up to 80-90 respirations per minute and still not even rooting. Now we were being told that "sometimes it takes 48 hours to resolve." He wasn't a big baby, and it didn't seem that waiting 48 hours would be a good thing. So the lactation consultant was summoned. And she was concerned.

Spending time skin to skin while keeping Abel's chest in an "open" position in hopes of regulating his breathing.

Then Abel started to shudder. Initially I thought he was cold, but then realized that he couldn't be. He was dressed warmly and swaddled in a blanket. The nurse was called again. And I was told it was his startle reflex. I've had two babies--I know the startle reflex. This wasn't it. She finally called the doctor in.

The physician on call finally arrived, and upon glancing at Abel assured us that he looked like a normal newborn to him. However, he said he could "check him out and do a chest x-ray" if it would make me "feel better." I have never been so thoroughly patronized. So I backed down and said that that wasn't necessary if he was truly fine. And he responded with "well, I think it will be normal, but should do the x-ray."

Now I was just confused. I thought he said Abel was fine. In which case, why do the x-ray?

The x-ray did, indeed, come back normal. More patronization followed. I was told I needed to rest, so they should take the baby to the nursery. We were told that "new parents" get nervous while our other children were in the room. I lost it. I let the doctor have it--and if you know me, you know that it takes a lot to get me there. Poor Mercy kept asking what was wrong with Mommy.

These were taken when I really began to notice that Abel was getting worse, not better.

Abel was taken to the nursery, and an I.V. was placed. Again, very confusing. If he was fine, why an I.V.? Then the doctor went home.

A couple of hours later Abel's respirations were up to 120 a minute, and the nurse called him back in. At this point, he became very, very accommodating. He expressed his concern over Abel's worsening condition and stated that he thought he needed to be transported to a facility that could care for him more effectively. Doernbecher's Neonatal Care Center (NICU unit) was contacted and arrangements were made. The PANDA team (a transport team that specializes in transporting critically ill infants and children) was on its way.

In the meantime, Abel's respirations had grown more rapid--150 per minute, which is as high as the monitors can track. He was also placed on oxygen because his saturation levels were dropping. I don't know if I've ever been so scared. Many silent, scattered prayers were sent up. A Telepeds robot was used to bring the neonatologist into the room. He was then able to interact with us and the transport team.

Once the PANDA team arrived you'd have thought God just walked through the door. The doctor sighed audibly and said "I'm glad you're here." A few more tests were run, the PANDA team conferred with the doctor via robot to determine how best to care for Abel during transport, and he was placed in an isolate on a stretcher equipped with an oxygen tent. The last thing I remember before his being wheeled out of the birthing center is registering the neonatologist expressing his concern regarding a possible congenital cardiac problem. Then my husband and my baby walked out the door.

Abel today with his commemorative PANDA team bear.

Abel Valor is Here!

2011-09-18T22:56:00.000-07:00

By now most of you already know this, but Abel Valor Myers arrived on September 7 at 1:20pm weighing in at 6lbs. 10oz. and 19.75 inches long.

Ready to go into the operating room.

Enjoying a snuggle.

This was my first uncomplicated delivery. The c-section went smoothly, for which I was very thankful. The spinal wasn't done well with my last, and for a few moments I was left in 10/10, I'm going to die if this doesn't stop now, kind of pain. The anesthetist this time knew my history and took it nice and slow. Though it took him three tries to find a space and position that allowed him to get in without the same results he patient, kind, and willing to take his time and make sure he did it right.

Getting to know Daddy.

Mercy loves her baby brother.

Abel is beautiful. Upon his initial exam it was found that he was breathing rapidly, and once he was placed on my chest we also noted that he had no rooting reflex. However, we were assured that these things would resolve themselves within 24 hours--so we settled into enjoying our third child. We're all in love.

4 Days Until Baby, Stomach Flu, and Interviews

2011-09-03T19:32:00.000-07:00

We're still on the wild roller coaster ride around here. Ryan had an interview last Tuesday, on on the other side of the state on Thursday, and has another one coming up this Friday. The Thursday interview took him away from home all day Wednesday and Thursday. I was so thankful my mom is here to help!

Yesterday we all woke up and went through the normal morning rituals. Mercy is often a very slow breakfast eater, and yesterday was no exception. She complained of a tummy ache, but she's been struggling with constipation. However, after she'd eaten half her yogurt I told her she could be all done because we were wanting to go to a yard sale that advertised toddler clothes. On the way there, she started looking pretty peaked, but she loves yard sales and perked up there. However, as soon as we got back in the car she began throwing up.

Needless to say, the timing is terrible. The baby is coming 4 days from today.

Mercy vomited three times and slept restlessly last night. However, apart from a diminished appetite, she's back to herself today. Here she is trying out her new "dancing dress" from the yard we picked up for $.25.

Now we're waiting in that miserable pre-stomach flu anticipation to see if anyone else comes down with it. The stomach flu is miserable regardless, but because I'm having a c-section in 4 days, I'm particularly uptight.

We'd appreciate prayer as we navigate this next week with the potential for more illness and the certainty of a new baby and another interview.

"Did You Know You're REALLY Pregnant?"

2011-08-27T15:07:00.000-07:00

What people say never ceases to amaze us. I know that every pregnant woman in the world has said as much, but when you're pregnant, your body becomes a free comment zone. And today I must be looking particularly pregnant.

First thing this morning I went to a yard sale that advertised baby boy things and the lady running the sale just couldn't get over how far out front I pop out. I don't think I've heard "wow" so often.

But the best one came later, when we all went to the farmer's market. We were in line at a booth behind a couple in their 50s or so. When they turned around after having made their purchase the man's eyes visibly widened. He then proceeded to say "Wow! Now that is a green striped watermelon is I ever saw one!"

Yes, I happen to be wearing a green striped shirt today. In fact, this is me--today. I wish I'd had the wherewithal to say something to the effect of "I know, that's why I wore this shirt. I LOVE watermelon." More comments were made, to which I tried to graciously smile, nod, and say "I know, but I'm almost done."

Once it was over my husband was outraged. He commented that people might as well come up and say "Hey, did you know that you're really pregnant?!" Why, yes, as a matter of fact, I had noticed...

Before We Know It

2011-08-27T14:10:00.000-07:00

Life is a whirlwind. Before we were in a state of chronic unemployment, I wouldn't have believed that to be possible if you didn't have a job. But it is.

Ryan is studying for the CPA exam most of the day five to six days a week. When he isn't studying he's applying for jobs. I often have to go upstairs between 1 and 1:30pm to remind him to come down and get some lunch. Or sometimes I just deliver it upstairs.

At my 36 week doctor's appointment I was scheduled for a c-section at 39 weeks, which falls on Sept. 9. This worked out well for two reasons. One being that 39 weeks is the most favorable time for a c-section medically speaking. The other being that I'm exactly 39 weeks on a Friday, which is the day my doctor typically schedules her surgeries. It was perfect. I also learned at that appointment that I have pubic symphesis dysfunction (PSD), which my husband lamented sounds like an STD. I have to agree. Anyway, it basically means that I'm in quite a bit of pain most of the time.

On my Gluten Free Motherhood blog I had the opportunity to review It's You Babe's Prenatal Cradle Mini Cradle, which helped with the PSD. When the company learned of my new diagnosis they also offered to send me their Best Cradle, which has helped the pain much more than I had hoped. It has been a tremendous blessing.

Ryan has a couple of interviews coming up that we'd appreciate prayer for. The first is on Sept. 1st, and the other on Sept. 9th. We couldn't believe it when the only day and time available for the second interview was the 9th. It takes about 2 hours to get to the location of the interview, which means that given his time-slot, Ryan has to leave town by 9am to be safe. My c-section was scheduled for 7:30am, which meant that, if all went seamlessly and on time he'd be able to be there to hold my hand through it, maybe get to hold Abel briefly, and then have to run.

At my 37 week appointment yesterday I told the doctor of our dilemma. Initially she wanted to call the potential employer herself (the potential employer had been told I was having a c-section that day). She declared that she'd brought men home from Iraq before, and she'd be happy to make a call. When I wasn't comfortable with that she said "or, we could try to reschedule, but I'm not optimistic. The birth center is pretty booked." Thankfully, she was able to change the day to Wednesday the 7th and 12pm. I wanted to hug her. Double bonus--two less of days of being pregnant, AND my husband can be there all day.

Before we know it, we'll be a family of five.

More than I can Handle.

2011-08-19T13:05:00.000-07:00

Today I'm 36 weeks, and the c-section is scheduled for three weeks from today, on Sept. 9. In many ways I'm completely ready to have him. Mostly the physical ones. I feel like a beached whale, I'm having my usual "pre-labor" contractions every 3-5 minutes a few hours a day, and for the first time my hands and feet are swelling up like balloons. Not fun, but I know he'll be so very worth it.

On the other hand, the stress has been getting to me badly enough lately that I'm alright with him just hanging in there for awhile longer. I would love to have a bit more stability to life before Abel makes his grand appearance. Lately applications have gone in for everything from accounting firms to McDonalds without much response. There is a glimmer of hope on the horizon--an interview with a firm on Sept. 1. However, I'm having a hard time maintaining hope.

I know that God will care for us--He always has. We won't go without a roof over our heads or clothes for our children. However, I'm no longer sure that I have the faith that there will ever come a time in which we don't wonder from day to day or week to week just how that will happen. I'm afraid that this will simply be life.

My hormones aren't helping. I have a couple of very gracious friends who've stuck by me even when I've snapped--and I'm so done with cliche comments and phrases. I came across this post by Nancy Wilson on Femina yesterday and wanted to shout "amen!" I've been beyond the end of myself for quite sometime.

So I cry. A lot. And sometimes in front of my children, which I've never done before. I need prayer for peace. For graciousness with those who are trying to be helpful but say or do things that simply aren't. And faith--lots of that. Along with hope. Because yes, this is all beyond what I can handle.

Abel's "Room"

2011-07-19T12:02:00.000-07:00

Now that we've moved Gilead to the toddler bed, Mercy to a twin, and both of them to the same room we needed to determine where the baby would sleep once he arrives so that mom could have her own space. Thankfully our bedroom is very spacious, so we now have a "nursery corner" there.

We use sleep sacks rather than blankets with our babies. No only do I not have to worry about them smothering in the blanket or kicking it off, but it serves as a very effective "sleeping time" signal no matter where we are. If the sleep sack is on, it's time to sleep. Therefore, I've decided to hang the never-really-used crib blanket on the wall above the crib. I think it looks rather sweet...

I had to stand in the closet to get this picture. This is the entirety of the "nursery." It only took until our 3rd baby to have a situation that allows us to use the crib with the new baby. We didn't even own a crib until Mercy was about 5 months, and Gilead slept in a bassinet until 4 months, when he switched. I'm looking forward to having an itty-bitty baby in it this time around!

Tubes and Consolidating Households

2011-07-18T20:57:00.000-07:00

Last Thursday Gilead and I checked into the hospital at 6:30am to get tubes in his ears. He did great, and the doctor said that all went well. When we checked in I was warned that little ones wake up one of two ways--they're either loopy and mellow or very, very angry. Gilead was the latter. After he was returned to me he screamed for about 10 minutes before he even opened his eyes and saw me. After about another 5 minutes of singing and some tylenol he was doing much better. By that afternoon he was pretty much himself.

The other big happening involves consolidating households. A couple of months ago my Mom lost her job as a result of an injury that didn't recover quickly enough. The very week she put her house on the market an offer was put in on it. If all continues to go well the house will close the first week of August and Mom will move in with us.

Therefore, we've been cleaning out even more (planning on yet another yard sale) and have moved the kids into one room. Today Gilead napped in the toddler bed for the first time, and tonight he'll spend his first night in it. Mercy has been in the twin for a couple of nights now and loves it. The twin has always been Mom's bed when she visits, but now, of course, she'll be bringing her bed with her. Last night Mercy declared that "this is my bed now. Nonni can get a new one."

Here's the kids new room. A bit tight, but certainly doable. And Mercy is ecstatic about having a roommate!

I found this adorable bedding set for Mercy at Goodwill. It has everything--even valances for the window! However, those won't go up until fall (when we don't need insulated curtains in their window anymore).

And my Mom got those butterfly wall stickers for Mercy at a yard sale for $0.25!

Gilead's corner.

We'll see how much sleeping happens tonight. But one thing's for sure--they love the new setup for daytime play!

And, of course, we're still praying for work. Ryan has an interview at a local firm tomorrow. Lord willing, this will be the start of a new phase in life.

30 Weeks!

2011-07-12T16:38:00.000-07:00

I had my 30 week appointment on Friday. Because little Abel wasn't compliant during the last ultrasound, we've been planning another at the 30 week mark. This time we were able to see his heart and other vital organs, but still didn't get to see his face. The doctor even turned on 3D imaging for a couple of minutes to see if she could get a better view that way. No such luck. This child simply doesn't like to be photographed.

And neither does his mother. But despite that, here's a 30 week picture. I just love all of the "you must be due any day" comments I'm getting. If you think I'm big now, just wait until I'm full term! I guess some of us just pop out more than others...

Generosity

2011-06-30T08:26:00.000-07:00

We've been blessed in so many ways over the past couple of months since Ryan was let go. Ways that, sadly enough, many Christians would view as shameful. We're alright with giving to those in need, so long as we deem them "deserving" (which is a whole other topic, but one we've pondered a lot lately), but we have great difficulty admitting that we are the ones in need.

And these days, we've found ourselves in the position of being those in need.

My college roommate and dear friend and her husband joined forces with other friends, their church, and friends churches to come to our aid. Between them our rent has been paid for three months (through July) and our children have been fully wardrobed for the summer. Both thing we desperately needed. The rent has allowed Ryan to begin studying for the CPA exam and apply for a test date. And the clothes have kept our children from being naked, or their mother from doing laundry daily to keep them in clothes.

To be so blessed by others, especially when you've never met many of them, is overwhelming, to say the least. As Ryan has stated "Christ has always been in our home, but now we see His footprints." He has truly cared for us in every way.

Growing, Growing, Growing!

2011-06-01T15:11:00.000-07:00

I took both kiddos into the pediatrician today for their well-child check-ups. Only we're not so well. It seems that we're catching every bug that goes around this year. Once again both of Gilead's ears are infected. This is his fifth infection in the last six months, so we're off to the ear, nose, and throat specialist on the 16th of June.

Despite all of the illness, both Mercy and Gilead are growing well--each maintaining the courses they've been on.

Mercy is our petite girl at 35.5 inches and 28 pounds. At three years old that puts her at roughly the 24th percentile for both height and weight.

Gilead is very, very long and lean at 32.75 inches and 22 pounds 1 ounce. At 15 months that places him at 91% for height and 18% for weight.

One of my favorite things right now is how much they adore one another. I think each feels a wee bit lost without the other. The love playing together, which makes my life so much easier!

And a few parting shots, just because they're so cute!

Happy 3rd Birthday, Mercy Girl!

2011-05-27T21:30:00.000-07:00

Today was Mercy's third birthday. It's hard to believe that three years have flown by so quickly! However, the rate at which she is growing, learning, and changing most definitely attests to the fact that she is no longer a baby.

Mercy's 1st Birthday

Mercy loves "school." We have several Kumon books that we work on most mornings. She is progressing well at learning to read and write the alphabet, her numbers, and in coloring, tracing, pasting, and cutting. She doesn't ever let me forget that it is time for school!

Mercy's 2nd Birthday

Most recently, Mercy has begun vocalizing her faith and what she understands of what she's been taught, which we love. In fact, yesterday, on a trip back home from my mom's (6 hours away) we made a potty stop, and while taking care of business, Mercy proceeded to preach a sermon. Ryan had taken her potty, so I got the story second hand, but it goes something like this:

Mercy (in a near shout): "I go potty! I make Daddy happy. I make God happy. I obey God. God is everywhere. God is in heaven. Jesus go up in the sky to the clouds!"

Ryan said he basically "yes, honeyed" the whole way through. We realized then that when you teach your toddler what you believe, there is no keeping it secret! Not that we do, but we'll be "witnessing," if you will, on a rather regular basis now if she has anything to do with it.

Mercy was the official frosting test-taster.

Me frantically trying to finish the Pooh Bear cake on time. In my new maternity apron from Bon Appetit Aprons. I have the privilege of doing a review and giveaway on my Gluten Free Motherhood blog soon!

Mercy enjoying her new Ergo doll carrier from Uncle Patrick, Aunt Krista, Timothy, and Lilli.

Opening her new non-spill bubble bucket from Gilead.

Opening her new carpet sweeper from Mommy and Daddy.

It really works!

Trying out those bubbles.

A new piano from Grandma and Grandpa!

The finished Winnie the Pooh cake. Sorry it's sideways.

Blowing out candles.

Gilead enjoying his cake.

The past three years of being Mercy's parents have been a privilege and a blessing. We look forward to many more to come!

Hospitals and House Sale Prep

2011-05-21T13:24:00.000-07:00

Earlier this week my mom spent some time in the hospital for severe abdominal pain. We'd been planning on going to spend a week with her to help prepare her house to go on the market, but we'd all been sick and were waiting to get over our plague. Her hospitalization sped up plans, and we came on Wednesday.

Mom was released Wednesday morning, and, though not 100%, is much, much better. So we commenced preparing the house for market. There are some things we aren't able to do--like refinishing the floors. But we can certainly help with organizing, rearranging, painting, and other things that simply make a place more attractive.

We decided to tackle the hardest, most dreaded places first. You know, the ones that collect stuff, whether you intend for that to happen or not. We started with "the hole." Otherwise known as the mudroom, but dubbed "the hole" thanks to the fact that it is a couple of steps below the level of the rest of house.

"The hole" also has a nifty loft bed option. A few years ago it was always ready for company, but the bed eventually migrated off of the loft and into a bedroom, which meant another bed had to go into the basement. After the loft space was cleaned up, we relocated the bed back to it's original home. This allows this two bedroom house to sleep company with relative ease!

The bottom portion of "the hole". That desk on the right will migrate to a different room once the room it is moving to is ready for it. The random stuff on it will also be relocated...

Next, we set to working on the basement. There are still some things there that need to be relocated. But like the desk, the places they are moving to aren't ready for them yet.

Still, it's shaping up nicely--especially for a basement!

And, the current project, is the second bedroom. It is being painted as I write. It was determined that this pregnant woman shouldn't paint--especially since I've had problems with contracting too early in the past. Here it is in the prep stages.

Mercy on her way out to the garage to "help" Daddy.

Gathering the painting supplies from the garage.

Tearing the old, yucky carpet out of the bedroom.

Taping

Gilead putting in his two cents.

Mercy had to help, too.

Yard Sales

2011-05-16T14:36:00.000-07:00

In Moscow yard sale-ing is a very competitive sport. Sales are usually Saturday only affairs, and start as early as 6am. People wait on the sidewalk, ready to descend upon your property as soon as you give the okay. If you aren't there when it opens, don't count on finding the treasures advertised--particularly if baby/kid stuff is involved.

Despite that, we got to be pretty decent at it, and just about all of our children's books and toys are from yard sales.

Here in Silverton, yard sales are an entirely different sort of deal. Everything seems to be very casual, and sales start as early as Thursday and always seem to run both Friday and Saturday. 8am is an early start time. We're just getting it figured out.

This was the first week I remembered to look for ads before Friday. So I mapped out the sales Thursday and was at the most promising looking one at opening on Friday morning. I was the only one there, and they had all sorts of high quality children's things for low prices.

We came away with this folding table and chair set for the kids.

We eat outside a lot when weather permits, and will do so even more as the weather, house, and this pregnant lady heat up. Ryan and I do fine in our camp chairs, but the kids need a solid surface.

We also got this, which will be a birthday present for Mercy from Ryan's parents.

This is a stock photo from Melissa and Doug, but ours looks exactly the same, is in great shape, and they only wanted $15. That's a $140 toy! It's currently hiding in a closet...

I have no idea if this is typical for yard sales here, but we'd be thrilled if it was. Now to find some good kids clothes for next to nothing.

A Big Girl!

2011-05-10T13:52:00.000-07:00

I began potty training Mercy when she was ridiculously young--15 months. But she took to it quickly, and by 17 months she was in panties. We had a brief hiatus at 20 months when Gilead was born and she had pneumonia all at the same time, but six weeks later she was back in panties.

Then we moved in August. After about a month she was back on track. Then we moved again in December. And every one to three weeks after that for three months. This was not helpful in any aspect of life with small children, let alone potty training. Mercy no longer slept through the night and had lots of accidents. I threw in the towel and we used pull-ups most of the time.

We've now been where we are for nearly two months. I switched Mercy back to panties while at home about two weeks after we got here, and while she had a couple of accidents a day, panties were still much more economical than pull-ups, so I stuck with it. However, there has been so much going on that I also haven't really "focused" on the potty training thing the way I did the first time around.

And all of a sudden, about four days ago, when I was sick and Ryan was letting me sleep in he went to put Gilead down for his morning nap and heard Mercy yell "I go potty on myself!" Well, as it turns out, what she had actually said was "I go potty all by myself." And sure enough, she had. And continues to do so. There have been a couple of accidents, but overall she takes herself, wipes up, and then rewards herself with a sticker. We're not complaining a bit. Such a big girl!

20 Week Pictures

2011-05-04T19:43:00.000-07:00

There's been so much going on this pregnancy that that, combined with the fact that it's my third time around, has resulted in almost no pictures. So, here are a few that Ryan snapped tonight, at 20 weeks 5 days with Abel Valor.

While that last one was being snapped Mercy declared that she needed to potty and proceeded to water the lawn...

20 Week Ultrasound Results

2011-04-27T14:30:00.000-07:00

Today I had my 20 week ultrasound. Though we didn't really get any good pictures, we did see enough to learn that baby three is another boy!

I've been strongly leaning boy the past few days, but it still surprises me that we can have boys. I grew up in a family that is very dominantly girl. And now my mother will have more grandsons than granddaughters, which is hard to wrap our brains around.

On the upside of the little guy not cooperating (he was nestled very low, and not budging), we'll get to see him again in four weeks. In addition to not getting to see his face, which was firmly planted in my placenta, the doctor didn't get to get a good look at some of his more vital organs. I'm not going to complain about another glimpse of him before his arrival!

God's Mysterious Ways

2011-04-12T08:34:00.000-07:00

Tomorrow will be a week since we re-entered the realm of unemployment. Lest anyone get the wrong idea from that last post, this is where I confess how I'm doing.

I don't wake up in the morning feeling hopeful or joyful. I have to actively put on hope and joy. And not just once. But in a minute-by-minute sort of way. I wake up remembering that most of the jobs that are rapidly "rebounding" are retail, that we can't live long term on that, and wondering what in the world we are going to do if we don't get work in the next 2-3 months. Faith isn't easy.

In America, most of us are completely unfamiliar with the fear that we might not have a place to live. We have friends and family who won't let that happen, but without them, it would have been reality in the past and would very possibly be a future reality. In this country family-wage work is available for the taking if you have a good education and work ethic, right? Or, at least, most of us still seem to believe that. We worry about whether or not we'll be able to buy a house, not whether we'll have a roof over our heads. We fret about not having enough bedrooms, or a yard as large as we'd like. Not whether we'll be without shelter. We're spoiled. Myself included. Letting go of those things, especially as a woman, is hard. I want a home to make, and right now I have re-orient and be thankful for a warm, comfortable place to sleep, if not a home we can call our own for any length of time.

Each day I struggle. And about every 36-48 hours I have a "crying" day. On those days I have to be reminded that God is faithful. And He is. Always.

We sang "God Moves in a Mysterious Way" in church on Sunday. And once again, I began to cry--on this verse. One that I am currently trying to remember several times a day.

Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take;

The clouds ye so much dread

Are big with mercy and shall break

In blessings on your head.

Because, in all honesty, I'm fearful. Very, very fearful. And yet, God's mercy is abundant, and I do believe, despite my bad days, that those clouds I so much dread will break forth in blessings.

The Lord Gives and Takes Away

2011-04-07T13:53:00.000-07:00

Blessed be the name of the Lord.

That last part is really difficult. But I don't suppose that it is ever easy when the verse is applicable.

The Lord gave, and He has taken away. Yesterday Ryan was let go. I was in the kitchen cleaning up after lunch when Mercy joyfully exclaimed that daddy was home. And my heart sank to my toes.

Everything clicked into place so quickly four weeks ago. He was offered the job. He started two days later. We found a place we love and moved in four days after he started. God put us here for a reason. But two weeks into work stress levels at work mounted.

They said it wasn't his fault. He's a good accountant, but it was an experienced position and they've come to realize they made a mistake in thinking they could hire someone right out of school to fill it. They'll write a letter of recommendation. And with many apologies they handed him his check.

I've cried more in the past twenty-four hours than I have during the entire course of our marriage. Last night Ryan simply held me until I went to sleep. After sleeping in this morning I cried some more while he held me. Then we began to talk, and he helped me with perspective.

Yes, every mother wants to know where her children are going to be sleeping in a month. How we're going to pay the bills. Have an answer when asked "where's our home, Mommy?" But in reality, the Bible places very little value in financial security. Yes, a man is to work hard to feed his family, but sometimes that looks a bit different than others. Like when your country is in a recession with statistics that rival the great depression.

It is through suffering that Christ is truly revealed to us. That's one of the reasons the apostles gave thanks in the midst of persecution. Those who've never wondered where they'll be sleeping next week or next month have never seen God provide those things in the ways that we've seen Him do that for us. We've seen Christ in situations that have felt desperately lonely and hopeless.

And now, more than ever, we're having to trust God for those things. For nearly a month, we tasted financial security. I thought I was able to plan for the future. That I knew where I'd be tucking my children into bed next year. I had visions of my children playing in the yard this summer. Of a small garden. Of making a home here.

And it's gone. But even in the midst of that we're to give thanks. For right now, what God has given us is enough. However, I'll probably need to be reminded of that with some frequency for the foreseeable future.

It's Over!

2011-03-08T22:39:00.000-08:00

On Monday our long journey in the realm of the unemployed and homeless ended. It's over. God is good and has provided a job for Ryan.

I laughed. I cried. And I still can't believe that it is true. Being without our own place to call home or our own resources has been our reality for so long that it is hard to imagine life being otherwise. However, it will be, and soon.

Ryan was hired on Monday by Wilco, a large farmer's co-op as an accountant at their main headquarters in Mt. Angel. He's to start tomorrow. You read that right. He was hired on Monday and starts tomorrow, which is Wednesday. Today the friend we are staying with kindly offered to watch the kids so that we could run around like chickens with our heads cut off in an attempt to find a place to live. We're putting in an application tomorrow for a place we both like and can afford, even if it is a bit further off of the beaten path than we had originally hoped for. It is currently available, just 10 minutes from work for Ryan, and we would potentially be able to move in in a matter of days.

We are so very thankful. Trying to find a place to live in such short order is a bit stressful, but we'll take this stress any day of the week over what we've been living with for the past many months. Please pray that this home we're hoping to get into works out, and that if it doesn't, something else will come up shortly. Very shortly.

Since we began this journey we've become different people, with different perspectives on many aspects of life. Hopefully those are sanctifying changes. We will never again think that supporting a family is as easy as just toughing up and getting a job. Because often, especially during a major recession, it isn't that easy. We've learned that mercy is much more needed and effective than "tough love" in many circumstances. And we've been the recipients of much mercy (and yes, "tough love," too).

Just when things seemed utterly hopeless and we weren't sure how we could carry on much longer, God scooped us up, and we find ourselves overwhelmed by blessings.

Birthday Cake and Refried Beans

2011-02-28T11:28:00.000-08:00

This last Tuesday we were finally able to celebrate Gilead's birthday with some cupcakes. We've not given either of our kids any sugar until cake on their 1st birthdays. Mercy was all about the frosting. Gilead wasn't terribly enthusiastic about any of it, but he did take a few nibbles.

Even if he didn't love eating the cake, he did get into the spirit of smashing it in the end...

This, on the other hand, is the kind of enthusiasm he has for refried beans. Note that by the time I got the camera out there weren't any left, apart from what's on him...

Happy 1st Birthday Gilead!

2011-02-16T17:52:00.000-08:00

This year has been a whirlwind in so many ways, but I still find it hard to believe that Gilead is now a year old. For the most part, it has been a long, long year. But how did Gilead get to be so big so quickly over the course of it?

As it turns out, he has infections in both ears in addition to the cold the rest of us have been fighting. And yet, he was able to give me this smile this morning.

31 inches (84%) and 21 pounds (24%)

Thanks to the fact that we're in someone else's home, preparing to move yet again, and are all down with nasty colds his birthday celebration will be very low key this year--and rather broken up, too. We'll do presents today and cupcakes in a day or two. Besides, what's the point of eating cake if you can't smell or taste it?

Despite the hardships of this past year, watching Gilead grow and change has been a joy. He has always been a happy, laid back guy, and for the most part, continues as such. He started army crawling just over a month ago and is just now beginning to do a hands and knees crawl and attempt pulling up to things. He's so proud of himself when he makes it up to his knees next to a piece of furniture or on our legs! A whole new world is opening up to him--one in which he'll be able to keep up with his sister, who is his idol, all the better.

Physical development is not the only way in which he's been laid back. Verbal skills haven't been much of a priority for him, either. We've heard a very rare "Daddy" out of him, and just in the past couple of days "Mama." Other than that, his only word to date is "look" if he gets a hold of something he thinks is particularly noteworthy.

I'll have to follow this post up with some more pictures--mostly of him eating cake for the first time. What's a birthday--particularly a first one, without cake pictures?

We thank God daily for our children, and pray for many more years to come with Gilead.

Surprise!

2011-01-29T14:58:00.000-08:00

We've had quite the holiday season. The car has been packed up and we've been in seven places in seven weeks. All of the moving around combined with the unemployment has kept us busy, distracted, and a wee bit stressed out.

Stress affects everyone differently, but physical manifestations are not uncommon. We've had many bouts of colds and couple of rounds of the stomach flu. Recently I've been exhausted all the time and simply not felt overly well in general.

Then I noticed my belly was a wee bit rounder than normal. Next I became completely disinterested in ice cream. If you know me at all, you know that that's a big deal. Nausea set in, I craved cashews, and my belly continued to grow. I'm sure you know where this is going.

Yesterday I finally left denial and took a pregnancy test, and it was positive. Surprise! I was very surprised--the rest of my family had been giving me a hard time about being pregnant for a week. It was a big "I told you so" for them. After Mercy was weaned it was months before I was able to conceive Gilead and I assumed things would go similarly this time around. I was obviously wrong.

Given our present circumstances there are things I have to work at not stressing about. However, overall, we're delighted. Little ones are a blessing and we'll be thrilled to welcome our third little one into the world sometime in September. Three years of marriage and baby number three on the way. God is good.

Reaching a Limit

2010-12-19T12:46:00.000-08:00

We've been through a lot of transitions in the past several months, and through it all, our children have been troopers. In the past 3-1/2 months we've packed up and moved three times--just this month alone we'll have been in four places. I distinctly remember the moment I knew that Mercy was starting to feel insecure in Moscow, before our first move. She was sitting on the floor coloring when she suddenly looked up at me with a shocked face. She was sitting in a puddle of her own urine, and had been potty trained for months.

After we'd been at the Kulbe's for a couple of months, her potty training finally came back to where it was before--right down to being able to go errand running in big girl panties. Then we moved again. And a week and a half later we moved again. Yesterday it started to become clear that poor Mercy is really suffering in the midst of our trials right now.

Before we were here it was easy to pass judgement on those whose small children demonstrated insecurities as a result of major life stress and transitions. After all, don't toddlers find security in their parents?

Yes, they do. But they are also old enough to note their parents stress and to know what "home" means. And Mercy doesn't have a home right now. And Mommy and Daddy are really stressed. We're doing our best to give our anxieties over to the Lord, but it is a day to day, hour to hour, minute to minute struggle to do so in a such a way as our children don't notice our fears. And in case you forgot, children notice everything.

Our dear girl, the one about whom people have often noticed the quick smile, mild temperament, good behavior of, is melting down. Over everything. This a kind of crying we have never seen out of her. It breaks my heart like nothing else has. I don't know what to do for her apart from lifting her up in prayer and continuing to pray for my own behaviors when I'm around her.

And yet, even if we could, should we shield our children from all that is going on right now? Because when God delivers us, I want them to know what a great thing He has done. Yes, she's only two, but she understands so much more than we often give her credit for. Two years old, and learning that we must trust God for everything, because in ourselves we are so very insufficient.

Portland Children's Museum

2010-12-11T11:07:00.000-08:00

The local library has a "Family Cultural Pass" that can be checked out. All you have to do is call and reserve an available date for the destination of your choice. So once the weather turned distinctly winterish we reserved the pass for the Children's Museum. Mercy had a wonderful time, and Gilead cheerfully rode along on my back.

We Asked for This

2010-11-25T10:06:00.000-08:00

Today is Thanksgiving. A time to give God thanks for all things. This year we are particularly thankful for His provision for us despite uncertain times. We are not only not without a place to be, but find ourselves having to decide which of four offers to accept as our new temporary residence. God truly is good.

When we were having yet another of those late-night conversations in which we try to solve our current unemployment dilemma as well as cure the world of its problems my husband said something startling--"You know what I realized the other day? We asked for this."

Say what?

He then proceeded to explain. We all have people that we admire so much that we'd like to mature into what they are. People who live and demonstrate their faith in Christ in a way that exudes love and mercy. In our case, every one of those people has been through something profound--or more than one something. Heartache, loss, poverty, etc. Each of those people has grown in ways that wouldn't have been possible had they not been placed in those circumstances. Those are the people we have prayed to be like. We not only asked for this, we prayed for it.

God has granted those prayers. Now we can only pray that this fire will do its work of refinement, while also praying for provision of work in His good time.

So we give Thanks. Thanks for providing us the opportunity to grow. To become a family filled with mercy, faith, and love toward others. And, of course, thanks for the provisions that keep showing up where we wouldn't have thought to look, from the most unexpected places. God is good, and today is for remembering that his goodness transcends our worldly perceptions and giving thanks for that goodness to us.

Thanksgiving Projects

2010-11-22T21:33:00.000-08:00

I've been trying to remind myself that, despite things being rather difficult and frightening right now, we have a lot to be thankful for. So, Mercy has had some exposure to Thanksgiving crafts.

She couldn't quite figure out how to hold her cornucopia up for the camera...

The dessert-style pumpkin muffin...

Gilead is Nine Months!

2010-11-17T15:25:00.000-08:00

How did that happen? Despite all of the major transitions we've undergone since Gilead's birth, I still can't believe that nine months have gone by. I took Little Guy in for his 9 month check-up yesterday, and he's certainly a growing boy.

Weight: 18lbs. 13oz. (24%)

Height: 29 inches (77%)

He must a small bone frame under there, because despite the desparity between his height and weight he still has chubs!

Like his sister, he is falling off the bottom of the chart in the gross motor department. Therefore, we're supposed to call the pediatrician in a month with an update on his progress. If it isn't as much as she would like he'll be evaluated. However, I'm not as worried about him as I was Mercy. Not only was she behind, but her movement patterns weren't normal. His are normal, just way behind. He's finally able to sit up for decent periods of time, but he can't get himself to and from sitting yet, let alone go anywhere or pull himself up. Maybe he's just relaxed. After all, his face looks like this most of the time...

Well, minus the cracker all over it. But he is a pretty happy guy. Before we know it, a full year with him will have somehow flown by!

Mercy Pets a Cow

2010-11-15T11:41:00.000-08:00

Yesterday we spent the evening with friends who have a small farm, which provided Mercy the opportunity to play with and pet kitties. Much to her delight she even got to pat a duck. And that reminded me that we have a video of Mercy petting a calf from the pumpkin patch that is awfully cute. So I suppose this is mostly for the grandparents...

Just Before the Morn...

2010-11-11T17:51:00.000-08:00

We've all heard it said that the night is darkest just before the morn. There is always morning for the Christian, and yet I find myself getting lost in that dark just prior to the dawn all too often these days.

The "what ifs" consume me. Some pettier than others What if we don't have an income soon? What if the economy doesn't pick up soon? Where will we live? How will we provide for our two children? What if we never own a home? Or even live in one? If I were to become pregnant again, could we afford a vehicle that we could get three car seats into?

Every now and then I still get upset over how long it will take us to own a home, but right now, I'd just like a home--even if that means a low-income apartment. The prospect of living in your vehicle is one thing without children. With them, unthinkable.

Not that it will come to that. Though our families' homes are currently filled with other family members in need of shelter, we do have many friends who have volunteered bedrooms or basements. In fact, we're currently living in the home of some friends who are out of the country. They'll be returning at the end of the month. And although I can't honestly say that living in a basement or all four of us sleeping in one bedroom is my idea of a desirable living arrangement, I know that it is much better than what some are currently facing. I have never had so much compassion for the destitute as I do now, when I feel the potential for being in that same situation breathing down the back of my neck. I know that God, and my husband will care for us, but things are frightening nonetheless. Some situations require a constant reminder of the fact that there is hope.

We've often joked that finding employment will be much like finding one another. Just when things began to feel hopeless, just when it felt we'd waited forever, God brought us together. And it was so, so very sweet. It still is.

Sometimes it seems as though others don't have valleys. They skip along their merry way without being touched by suicide, singleness, or long-term unemployment. And yet, my husband reminds me that they are not without their trials--we simply can't see many of them. Either because the nature of those situations is private, or the individuals who are in the midst of those trials don't share them with many others. My father's suicide was certainly the most traumatic life event I've ever experienced, and singleness was hard. Unemployment when one has a family to support is also a hard thing. All of those are also very public things. And yet, I'm thankful that my marriage is sound (and yes, very sweet) and our children are clothed, fed, and healthy. Yes, they are kept that way by the generosity of others, including the government, at the moment. But in God's providence, they are.

And so, in all things, we are to be giving thanks. I'm trying, but if you run into me on a particularly rough day and ask how I'm doing, you just might need to be prepared to see me fight back a tear or two...

Such a Big Boy!

2010-11-09T15:52:00.000-08:00

Gilead is working hard at mastering the art of the sippy cup...

And he's so proud of himself!

Persevering in Faith

2010-11-05T12:41:00.000-07:00

Faith is an easy thing to have when you don't need it. I know that we actually need to have faith in all things and at all times, but there are also times that require it in much larger quantities than do other seasons of life.

We're in one of those large dose seasons. Unemployment is becoming exhausting. Discouraging. Depressing. All things that, as Christians whose true hope is in Christ, it would seem we shouldn't be feeling. Except maybe the exhaustion part.

I am reminded constantly these days that we don't and truly can't know the mind of God. From my earthly perspective it seems wrong and terribly unfair that those who may be less qualified, poorer students, and generally less responsible are getting jobs when my husband, who has over 80 applications out, has not landed one yet. Or that every one of those other guys we know is an extrovert and that our introversion seems to be a strong disadvantage.

Some extroverts will basically tell us to "get over" being an introvert. That would be akin to our telling them to think things through before talking. Or to let someone else do the talking among other things. Although I understand that some extroverts think they already do. Regardless, it is an extroverts job market right now, and we have known a couple of more honest extroverts who have willingly admitted as much. Some companies even require you to go to a social as part of the interview process, which is a very, very painful experience for an introvert--even when we put on our game faces and try to be more outgoing. I would love it if the extroverts and employers of the world could really understand that an introvert can do just as well, if not even better, at getting the job done. Maybe not as a used car salesman. But as an accountant, it's a sure thing. It's a bit like the guys who can't see past the flirty girls to the true gems that aren't laying on the surface.

That was a bit of a digression. So sorry.

Ryan has had an interview a week for the past several weeks. We've heard "no" from a couple of those, and have yet to hear from a couple of others. So there is reason to hope. However, I find myself wanting more and more to have someone just hold me and tell it will be alright. I know that it will. And my husband does tell me that we'll be alright. Often. But when there isn't a means to provide a home for your children in the immediate future, nor has there been for one for sometime, one begins to falter. Or at least I do. I pray daily for the faith required to continue in hope, knowing that our Father in Heaven will not leave us.

In the meantime, we are so thankful to the friends who are letting us stay in their home while they are overseas and for a church body that truly does care for us. The blessings are here, they are very present in our lives. This is simply one of those times in which I need to actively look for them and then make sure that I take them to heart. God is good. And our job right now is to continue to persevere, knowing that He won't let us slip out of the palm of His hands.

Mercy's First Haircut

2010-11-04T09:36:00.000-07:00

It only took 2-1/2 years for Mercy to grow enough hair to require a trim. Yes, 2-1/2 years. However, she's ahead of the curve as far as I'm concerned--she beat me to the quantity of hair she has by a good year. I was a bald, bald baby and toddler.

Deciding to do it was tough. After all, it took over two years to grow that lovely head of hair, and I didn't want to risk messing it up. However, her bangs grew past her mouth and became harder and harder to manage, so we decided to give it a go. I checked into local kid haircut places and wound up deciding to try Little Clippers in Lake Oswego.

Mercy chose the red Lightening McQueen car over a girly one...

The first cut...

She got to watch Thomas the Tank Engine while getting a trim...

Andrea, her stylist, was so good with her!

She left with a pretty hairdo, too!

And a first haircut certificate.

Most places I found (apart from the cheap ones that make me nervous) were charging $8 for a bang trim and $15 for a haircut. We got it all done for $13 at Little Clippers, and the experience was well worth it. I'm hoping that now that there are "lines" to follow I might be able to keep it up a bit myself, but we'll see.

All in all, the experience was much less traumatic than I had anticipated, and Mercy still talks about it. I think she'd like to get many more haircuts in the future!

Gilead's New Smile

2010-11-02T23:10:00.000-07:00

When Mercy was about Gilead's age, she developed what we referred to as her "cheesy grin." Gilead seems to be following suit and developing one of his own...

These are Mercy's versions when she was about the same age.

Nope, they're not exactly the same, but they both definitely ooze character!

A Happy Birthday

2010-10-25T14:05:00.000-07:00

Friday was my 27th birthday. For some reason 27 has sounded so much older to me--perhaps because it seems so much closer to 30? I don't know, but our pastor made me feel better about it by pointing out that 27 is 3 to the 3rd power, which is a very good thing for a trinitarian!

Though I was sick on Friday, I was pampered by my family and had a wonderful day. I never had to cook--and Ryan and Mercy even made dessert!

And I was give a couple of things that have been on my wishlist.

The first, from my wonderful husband, was this:

And from my in-laws, a learning tower. So, as soon as I could, I set about making the gluten-free brioche recipe. With Mercy's help, of course, thanks to the new learning tower.

It turned out pretty nicely.

In the next day or two I plan on making the cinnamon rolls. I love having dough that can be used for a variety of things in my refrigerator all the time! We will certainly be eating much more bread, pizza, and pastries in the future!

Despite the uncertainty these days, I am often reminded of just how very blessed I am. So, if you catch me forgetting, please remind me of all that I have been given.

Plumper Pumpkin Patch

2010-10-21T22:48:00.000-07:00

For my birthday I wanted to go to a pumpkin patch. I love that once you have children you can do things that you never really lost interest in upon becoming an adult without looking weird.

The weather report for Friday (my actual birthday) didn't look so great, so we went yesterday instead. It was a balmy 74 degrees--perfect for a day outside.

We'd planned on getting hotdogs and bratwursts at the farm because it was, after all, a birthday outing. However, we didn't realize that they only offer those on weekends. So we ate kettle corn and apples for lunch.

Mercy loved the animal barn. She got to feed an apple to a pig and hay to a calf as well as pet the calves and miniature horses and donkey.

Though she didn't do much in it, the corn jump apparently made a big impression, because she did lots of talking about it...

There were also three giant slides made of that industrial black plastic pipe stuff. One was 40 ft. long. Unfortunately I didn't get a picture of that one.

Then, right before heading home, we took a wagon to the pumpkin patch and picked a pumpkin to keep.

A Fresh Start

2010-10-16T19:44:00.000-07:00

After several years on Xanga, I've decided to switch our family blog over to Blogger. So, if you're new to us, here's a brief introduction.

I'm Amber, wife to Ryan, Mommy to Mercy, age two, and Gilead, who's eight months. I hold a degree in music education, but my true calling at this phase of my life is here, in the home. Keeping up with two very small children is no easy task, nor is keeping up with all of the from-scratch cooking I do as a result of my gluten-free diet. Okay, I would probably do that, anyway, but now I have no choice!

My wonderful husband graduated recently with a master's in accountancy. The economic situation being what it currently is still has him looking for work as a full-time job. We know we're not the only ones in that situation right now, but we are certainly praying that this particular phase of life would pass quickly!

So, here we are:

This blog will primarily consist of the day-to-day life and insights of a stay-at-home-mom. Our lives are certainly very ordinary--but they are also never boring! To keep up on other aspects of our lives, visit my other blog, Gluten Free Motherhood and my husband's, Puzzled but not Surprised.