Five Minute Friday- Write

A friend of mine recently started blogging again. She wrote today with a "five minute Friday" challenge to "write" that she heard about here. It is just that. Write something, anything for five minutes. It got me thinking how much I miss writing. Not necessarily in the blogging world....and actually, very much not in a blogging sense. I painfully confess that I used to be a writer. I used to write stories and poems, scribble lines on napkins and in the back of books. I was president of the literary magazine at my high school. I've been published (in forgettable, small publications). I used to find such pleasure in it. Now I find myself mute and so out of practice, I struggle to type out my basic thoughts. What happened? Well, my silence coincides with my marriage. This is not to say that my marriage killed the pen, but it is when life became a lot more busy, and to be honest, my values began to shift. I found myself not having time to write anything pleasurable and soon I stopped trying. I kept busy working, spending time with my hubby and friends, reading, crafting. But the writing stopped. So much time passed that I grew insecure with writing. Did I still have it in me? Was my talent for the written word gone with my adolescence? As my longing to be reunited with my hobby grew, I was then faced with an additional challenge. A beautiful, wonderful challenge I wouldn't change for the world. My daughter, Lydia, came into my life. Any spare time that I thought I had has been redefined by this girl. So now here I am, with a growing desire to write again. I think I am at a place where I am ready to accept the challenge to write again. Ready to dive into something that I love. So I guess this is a start.

Lydia Eleanor Bales: Birth Story

I never blog anymore, but I figured this would be the most convenient way for me to share Lydia's birth story to our friends and family. It's lengthy, but Lydia is pretty amazing, and this is her birth after all.

I'm trying to think of exactly how far back to start, because it's all kind of relevant. I suppose I can sum up the early part by saying, it was very hard for Caleb and I to get pregnant. We had tried for almost a year and  a half before finally being able to conceive. I have PCOS, which made it difficult for me to ovulate. It's amazing to think back on this because I think about how "back in the olden days" I probably would not have gotten pregnant. More than that however, and I know this goes for ever pregnancy, I would not have gotten pregnant if it wasn't in God's plan. He gave us this blessing, not by our doing or because we deserved it, but because his plan is bigger than we can even see and I'm excited to see us and Lydia in that picture.

So, flash forward to my third trimester, which, unfortunately was not a breeze like my first two. I could hardly sleep, was terribly achy and worse of all, my feet and ankles were so swollen that they couldn't fit into anything but flip flops and would ache if I stood on them for even a little bit of time. I didn't think too much of it, however, since a lot of women experience swollen feet. Then last weekend, I went on a church group retreat and noticed that along with my feet and ankles, my hands, arms, legs and face were a little more puffy than normal. I figured this was from bad sleep on a bunk bed and breaking my normal routine. My OB thought differently however when I saw her on Tuesday (the 29th). After taking my usual blood pressure and urine sample, they realized that I had developed pre-eclampsia, an uncommon and dangerous pregnancy related sickness which if left untreated can lead to seizures, stroke, liver failure and sometimes death. The next step was to see just how bad this was. Since I was almost 37 weeks, if  there was a way of waiting out delivery, she wanted to do that. So she sent me home on bedrest for the following day and told me to take a 24 hour urine test, so they could conclude how bad my pre-eclampsia was. On Thursday, I dropped of the urine, went to work and received a call from the hospital asking me to come in for a followup blood pressure test. They said my protein in my urine was a little too high for their liking, but if I could withstand a 2 hour blood pressure test (while resting) they would prescribe bedrest. After this test, my OB came in, and I knew right away she wasn't going to send me home. "If we wait and see how your pre-eclampsia develops, things could be much worse, and to be honest, I think we should get the show on the road and induce".

If you've talked to me about my pregnancy and hopes for birth, you'll know that I very much wanted to do things as naturally as possible and let my body do it's thing, and let baby come when she wanted to come. The idea of induction was upsetting to me. It messed with "my plan" and "my control". But I also had done my own share of research and I knew that pre-eclampsia was not something you really wanted to mess with. And more than that, I had picked my OB for a reason, and I did trust her judgement. As much as I didn't want to be induced, I knew it would be safest for me and baby. So they got me settled into my L&D room and Caleb met up with me, bringing our half packed hospital bag. I had planned on having everything ready by this weekend. I think this is an important point for one reason. I am, at my heart, a planner and a controller. I was upset about induction and was stressed that I still had things that I "had to get done" before baby came. Thankfully, Caleb, among other people in my life, reminded me that ultimately God is in control and I can trust that he's going to take care of us. He would provide and give strength, and I wouldn't get through labor without trusting that. Again, it's funny, that if I had been pregnant "in the olden days" I may very well had died in childbirth. There was nothing about my pregnancy, my labor, or Lydia's life, that was ever in my control.

So, Thursday night I started something to help soften my cervix, since I was not yet effaced all the way. I had this twice. Along with this they monitored my blood pressure, taking it every half hour. This made for a very restless night. At four in the morning, the on-call doctor said that my cervix was softened enough that we could begin the pitocin. I was nervous and shaky, knowing that labor with pitocin was often times much more painful and intense. However, I was still determined to do things as natural as I could. They started me on a low level, that was still able to talk through. Caleb and I joked a bit and practiced how he would help me when things got worse. Every half hour, they up'd the pitocin and I could definitely feel it when they did. With each half hour, the contractions required much more of my focus. No joking any more, just breathing and swaying on the birthing ball. When the pitocin was at an 8, they said my body was working well with it and having consistent contractions and they would keep it at this level. I was glad, because it was very intense, and didn't want to imagine what it would feel like if they were stronger. Eventually, the birthing ball was no longer a comfort. It was taking all my energy to get through the contractions and focus on relaxing and not on the pain. At 7am, the staff changed shifts and the new nurse recommended transforming the bed into an armchair position so that I could focus on relaxing my arms and legs, and not have to hold myself up anymore. This was helpful in getting through the contractions....for a short while. 

At 8am, my OB came in and said that I was almost dilated to a 4 and that my blood pressure was still high. She wanted to break my water to speed things along so that I was at less risk of seizures if I had a long labor. At hearing this, I knew I had to make a decision. I knew that if I had my water broken, that the contractions would be even more intense than they currently were, and they were already hard to focus through. I also knew that my blood pressure was high as she said... Again, I trusted her judgement, but I didn't know how much I could trust my pain tolerance. Determined to not get an epidural, I asked if there were other options to help my with the pain management. She mentioned a drug, Demerol, that would not take away the pain, but would take the edge off and help me relax. This sounded like a good alternative, considering I could no longer keep on top of the current contractions and could not imagine being able to get through it once my water was broken (pitocin was intense). So my OB broke my water and gave me the Demerol. I felt the contractions before the drug kicked in and they were pretty intense, but once the Demerol started working, I noticed that my nerves and fears subsided and I was able to rest in between contractions and do nothing but focus during them. I'm sure this helped my blood pressure remain more stable as well. 

After this, things really started picking up. I completely lost track of time. My dear friend/doula, Crystal, came shortly after my water broke, and from then on, it was focus focus focus. I held one of Caleb's hands and one of Crystals and when the contractions came, I would squeeze, Crystal calmly reminding me to breathe, and the both of them applying counter pressure to my back labor pain with their free hand. When I was dilated to a 7 or 8, I started to self doubt, saying "I don't think I can do this" and "I think I might need an epidural". As requested, Caleb lovingly and discretely informed the nurse to ignore me. And its funny, because in the back of my mind, I was graciously given the reminders of what Caleb and I had practiced and knew deep down that if I was doubting myself and ability to get through this, then I must be close to pushing.

I was closer than i thought. Before I knew it I was dilated to a 9.5 and they were turning the bed from a chair position back into bed position, they informed me they were getting the stirrups out, and it this point, I didn't care what position I pushed in, I just wanted to get her out! I wasn't dilated to a 10 yet, but I knew it as soon as they came....I was having pushing contractions. My OB told me to wait, but I didn't know how I could. I tried, but it felt like I was fighting against my body. Eventually, I got the go-ahead (and may have pushed a little before then as well). I was still incredibly focused and calm and just heard the loving voice of my friend Crystal telling me to breathe, to hold my breath, to push. I could hear Caleb asking to deliver our baby, and our OB filling him in on what to do. I could feel her head coming down, coming out, and then the rest of her body as my husband delivered her. I saw my baby and immediately forgot all about the pain. I was overcome with joy and love. My husband handed her to me and I couldn't stop saying how much I loved her and how beautiful she was.

Lydia Eleanor Bales was born Feb. 1st, 2013, at 10:54am. I was in labor for 7hrs, pushed for under 15minutes (which is pretty nice, although it was an intense ride the whole time). She is beautiful and I can't get over what a blessing she is in our lives already. She weighed 6.3lbs at birth and 19.5inches long. 

John 16:20-24- Very truly I tell you, you will weep and mourn while the world rejoices. You will grieve, but your grief will turn to joy. A woman giving birth to a child has pain because her time has come; but when her baby is born she forgets the anguish because of her joy that a child is born into the world. So with you: Now is your time of grief, but I will see you again and you will rejoice, and no one will take away your joy. In that day you will no longer ask me anything. Very truly I tell you, my Father will give you whatever you ask in my name. Until now you have not asked for anything in my name. Ask and you will receive, and your joy will be complete.

1035 days and counting....

Almost three years ago I married my best friend. It has been an adventure for sure. He never fails to make me laugh, cheer me up and show me love. Of course, sometimes there isn't anyone who can make me more angry. But these times are few. I love his patience. I love his wisdom. I love his guidence. I love the ridiculous faces that he makes for me, that I know no one else gets to see. My husband, Caleb, is a goofball--and I love him to death. 

Our story is common, I'm sure. We met at school. We were friends for a while, until we both suddenly realized how much we enjoyed each other's company. Before the semester's end (before I went back home to AZ), we pulled three all-nighters in a row, just so we could see each other more. We stayed up talking, laughing, listening to music. At one point we made homemade ice cream...it turned out terrible (note: if you don't have milk--dont substitute with rice milk. If you don't have sugar--don't substitute with splenda. If you don't have vanilla--don't use rum extract. But if you must, have a roommate willing to eat it all). 

During the summer, I travelled a lot. AZ to Germany to Austria to Belgium to AZ to San Diego to AZ to the mountains up north. We talked a lot on the phone. We emailed even more. Caleb decided that he was going to hop on a Greyhound to see me at the end of summer and we'd travel back to school together when the semester started. I was so nervous--I liked him...I knew he liked me...but neither of us had said it. It still wasn't said until the day after we returned to Missouri for school. That's when we decided to date. 

The day after we decided to date....I broke up with him. Yes, I was ridiculous. I had always been overly cautious of my heart. After my last break up especially. I was so afraid to take a chance, that instead I was opting for running away from the most amazing person God was putting in front of me. Thankfully, after a phone call from my momma, and her calling me out on my fear, I decided to call Caleb to meet me. I ran out of my dorm when he came. I fell into his arms crying and told him I didn't want to run away from him. He wrapped his arms around me and I knew I had done the best thing I could have. 

Fast forward two eventful years of ups and downs and more ups, with learning and growing and loving--we were married. I knew I was going to marry him after two months of dating. Marriage so far has been a beautiful challenge. We challenge each other in our weaknesses and encourage each other in our strengths. We help each other grow closer to God. It's our hope to resemble God's love for us and our love for him (Eph. 5:21-33). I'm excited to see what the rest of our lives bring for us. 

Photos by Rachel

At The Farm at South Mountain

Wanderlust

Vagabond. Gypsy. Wanderer. Traveller. Explorer. Drifter. There is something romantic about these. The aimless adventurer, continually decamped, no ties to a particular place or people... But I wonder what exactly draws us to this notion of drifting; what is so very attractive about it. There is definitely a concept of freedom that is tied to the idea of not having to stay in one place, to go where you please, eat and drink where and what you want, to not have to answer to anyone. There is also the sense of adventure in discovering something, whether it be a new place, new people, beautiful sights or simply, and maybe mostly, a sense of self-discovery. I think that may be at the heart of it. In the romanticism of the wanderer, we find at its roots a pursuit of self-discovery and self-truths, and I fear a fair amount of self-worship. 

Is this freedom and discovery rooted in truth (or in the mindset of the drifter, does truth really matter)? They set their own rules, own ethics, their own guiding values, perhaps never realizing that it is perhaps selfishness that fuels everything they do. To be guided by what you want or don't want, what you like or don't like, and if something doesn't fit quite right, you excuse it, leave it, pretend it's not there, run away. You think that it's on the account of your own two feet that you have done this or that, gone here or there. You think you're in control. The vagabond is blind. We are always pursued and there is one always in control. He supersedes our will, our self discovery, our freedom to run away. His purpose is greater than any other we can figure out for ourselves. And try as we might to run further from this truth, I believe that deep down there is a restless nagging... Even if we suppress it, I believe that it is there. A deep aching in our gut for the truth that only God can satisfy. We try to fill it with beauty, with discovery, with the philosophies of life that we can muster, but they are all lacking. For what are beauty, creation, and the wonders of the world, aside from a reflection of the one who's careful design and creativity put them into place? Likewise, what are we, aside from Hiscreation, with a choice to praise His artistry, His mercy and love, and the fact that He is, has been and always will be? 

We run because we don't want to surrender control. We like being on the thrones of our lives. The problem is, it's a false sense of control. We are left dissatisfied and still hungry, as if we have quenched our appetites with a pinch of salt, and quiet the aching in our bellies with the racket of cymbals and gongs--anything to hush the realization that we cannot make ourselves whole. Yet if we surrender our selfishness, surrender our fear and misguided "freedom"...if we can admit to being needy, to being broken, to a need to be cradled...if we can be honest and humble before the Lord--He will satisfy, heal, make us whole, bring true freedom. 

Into My Own

ONE of my wishes is that those dark trees,
So old and firm they scarcely show the breeze,
Were not, as ’twere, the merest mask of gloom,
But stretched away unto the edge of doom.
I should not be withheld but that some day	5
Into their vastness I should steal away,
Fearless of ever finding open land,
Or highway where the slow wheel pours the sand.
I do not see why I should e’er turn back,
Or those should not set forth upon my track	10
To overtake me, who should miss me here
And long to know if still I held them dear.
They would not find me changed from him they knew—
Only more sure of all I thought was true.

One of my favorite poets is Robert Frost. There is a simple, soft elegance in the way he turns a phrase. I love the way he brings things back to nature while incorporating the message he's trying to get across. This has been, for a long time now, my favorite poem. It's the poem for my life. When I read it I think back on my twenty-six years and see where I've been and where God's taken me. I remember being the insecure girl in school. I remember finding my voice through writing and art, and translating my thoughts into something coherent. I recall the many stages of my life...the changing of scenery, friends, family, beliefs. My faith has grown solid and resonates with the third and fourth stanza. Friends, even family have seen this change in the past eight years, and wonder at it. Some feel as though they don't relate, or they want the old Kelly back. There is no turning back. This is the path that is before me and I'm "only more sure of all I thought was true". I don't know where God is going to take me in my life, but I know where he has taken others in the past that followed Him faithfully. There are no guarantees of comfort, safety, security or riches in this life. But those are not my concerns. Of course it is my hope that others "set forth upon my track", that they know the truth and love Him. This is my life's work, to love my Savior and follow him "unto the edge of doom."