I have no cute stories to post today, just a little side note on how awesome my God is. For those of you not too up close and personal with me and my family, we took over our family business back in July. The past year has been a struggle with the company, as work has really dried up in our little corner of Michigan. Contractors we have worked with for some time have literally just rolled up the carpet and split town. Thankfully, over the past 30+ years my father-in-law has operated his business with a level of integrity that has given us some very loyal customers. They have been what has been keeping us afloat this past year. We have been praying on direction for our family and for our business. The slow economic times here in MI have us questioning whether we, too, should look into other opportunities. After months of praying, we had been feeling as confused as ever with no real answers as to what our future would entail. The one steady and constant force, however was prayer. We prayed continually for work to come in and for our needs to be met.
There would be days that we would have absolutely nothing lined up for work the next day. We would pray that the Lord would bring something, then the phone would ring and the next day would fill in. That has been the course of action since about November/December.
This past week was no different. We had nothing on the books for after Tuesday of this week. As I walked on the treadmill, I began to pray that God would fill our week and continue to meet our needs. I prayed that God would bring something in a large job that would keep us busy for a while so we would know what we were doing for a few months. I also prayed a prayer of thanksgiving for what He has done and continues to do for us. I prayed back scriptures relating to His promises for those that love Him. Within 15 minutes, my husband called me and told me of an appointment for a job to bid for Wed. am. A few minutes later he called with a job for Thursday morning. When I finished my walk on the treadmill, I answered a call for a job for Friday morning. When I was on my way home from picking up the kids from school, I got a call for another job that would carry us through Mon & Tue of the following week. Once I got home, I received an invitation to bid a large job a little north of here and Steve received a call yesterday to bid a new church going up about 45 min. away. There are no guarantees that we will get any of the work, but it solidifies in my mind how much God loves us. There is nothing in us that is worthy of the blessings he showers upon us...only Christ within us makes us acceptable to Him. I have to tell you, I was doing a little dance, sobbing and praising God. My kids totally thought that I had lost my mind.
What I found to be kind of comical was one of the general contractors for a job we are bidding has the last name of Pastor! Tell me God doesn't communicate to His people! Again, God has given us the opportunity to bid this work, but there is no guarantee we will get the job. Please join us in prayer that Steven would be given wisdom and discernment in preparing our bid. Also pray for the General contractors on these jobs, as they themselves are in the bidding process. Pray also that we would remain faithful despite the outcomes. Pray especially that my husband would stay encouraged. He tends to carry his stress around in his back.
It is so awesome to really see God at work. I begged God for his blessings this week. I don't want to be rich as far as anything material. I just want to appreciate the things I have been blessed with and given the opportunity to bless others. God has answered that prayer in so many ways this week.
I pray that I would be able to rejoice in the Lord always...no matter the circumstances.
Thursday, February 28, 2008
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Go! Vote!
I feel totally lame...I should have been on the ball this morning begging for votes. Today is the-voting-on-your-favorite-birthstory-day today. If you visit this site, you still have time to pick your all time favorite story. The fate of the beautiful bracelet is in your hands! Have a blessed day---Happy Voting!
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Gone Fishin'
It seems that I am not the only one hit by the Spring Fever Bug. Last night Steven decided to go fishin'. The only problem was there was no water...no lake, no river, no stream, creek or pond. He was in the kitchen. Funny thing was, he latched on to something pretty big. 
I'm tellin' ya, it had his pole bent right over. He struggled to keep the thing on the line. He fought for what seemed like hours...
You ask, what could one possibly expect to catch when fishin' in the kitchen?
Why a Catfish of Course!
Yeah, the little thing put up quite a fight.
I'm tellin' ya, it had his pole bent right over. He struggled to keep the thing on the line. He fought for what seemed like hours...
You ask, what could one possibly expect to catch when fishin' in the kitchen?
Why a Catfish of Course!Yeah, the little thing put up quite a fight.
P.S. No small animals were harmed in this fishing event...
Friday, February 22, 2008
Birth Story 2
My second pregnancy was pretty uneventful. I had the usual morning sickness, aches, pains, etc. The only difference was the fact that I had a choice to make. In consulting with my doctor, he indicated that a repeat c-section was advisable considering the circumstances of my first birth. He said that I had a very small pelvic region and if my 2nd baby was as big as the first, my labor would be in vain, but it was my choice. If I wanted to try a vbac he would let me do it. Not being one who likes to prolong the agony or labor for hours on end only to have a c-section anyway, I decided to schedule a 2nd surgery. The spinal went much better this time around. Bob was there for this surgery, too...I even remembered not to wear my bra! I still got sick during the entire surgery, but ended up fine in the end. I can remember sitting up in the recovery room asking for biscuits and gravy. I was starving!
Flash forward a few years...I found myself pregnant again with number 3. It was one of those kind of surprises. Something planned, but not planned. My husband and I were content with the 2 that we had. To show God that I was serious about being content, I sold all of my baby stuff thinking that He would understand that we were okay with a family of 4.
The funny part of this story involved the my 2 older children. I was driving up I-75. I was dropping them off at a friend's house. I was getting ready to attend a funeral. The kids were talking in the back asking questions about the funeral, the deceased, God, the sky...you know, typical kid stuff. All of a sudden they hit me with the "We want a brother or a sister." I politely told them that babies are a special gift from God and that if they want a baby, they would have to pray for one, thinking that they would just drop it and move on. Right then and there, both children offered up a special prayer right in the back seat of my truck. Big brother prayed for a little brother and sissy prayed for twin girls to help her clean her room.
Up until this point I had no real reason to suspect that I was pregnant. I was a little bit late, but with me, that was not uncommon. I never really worked like clockwork. The day after this little prayer from my children, I woke up feeling very sick to my stomach and "the girls" were very sensitive. I kept thinking to myself, "Nah, I can't be..."
On a whim, I bought a pregnancy test and sure enough, I was pregnant! We decided early on to not find out what we were having. After all, I was going to have another c-section. If I knew what I was having I could have the birth announcements pretty much made a month ahead of time! We figured we would just be surprised.
Sissy and Big Brother argued for most of the 9 months about the baby. Sissy was very adamant that the baby was going to be a girl, because that is what she prayed for. She would not entertain for a second the thought that it could be a boy. Around my 8th month in a moment of weakness, I asked my OB nurse if we were having a girl or a boy because regardless of whether I find out or not, it is in my chart. My husband and I decided that we would find out so that if Sissy was wrong, we could gently prepare her for a boy in the few weeks remaining. The nurse mouthed the word boy to me from the door.
I only shared that knowledge with my husband. We didn't do any special preparations, like buying boy clothes or putting out boy clothes in the dresser. We did talk to Sissy and tell her that although she prayed for a girl that it was always a possibility that this could be a brother, after all, Big Brother prayed too.
The time finally came for the c-section. I ended up in a different hospital this time. No crazy anesthesiologist named Bob to give me my spinal. No bra flinging...no hysteria. I ended up having a team of 2 (one was completing her schooling) anesthesiologists that came for a consult before the operation. I expressed my concerns over how sick I get during my surgeries. I also expressed concern for my husband, who up until this point had never gone in on a c-section. My mom had always gone. He is one of those people who faints at the sight of a needle and the smell of a hospital. With a plan in hand for all my concerns we prepped for surgery...
My 2 anesthesiologists were awesome. They installed an air curtain that blew either warm or cold air on me. They both stood at my head and talked to both my husband and me. At the very second I started to feel nauseous they administered medicine. We laughed and joked for a while. My husband was doing great! At some point we asked when they were going to start. Little did we know that the surgery was almost over! Finally the baby was born. The nurse gently placed the baby over the curtain, then took her to the nursery without really saying whether it was a boy or a girl. She must have thought that we already knew. Steve and I looked at each other and asked the anesthesiologists what we had. They replied that they saw girl parts. We were stunned. "Really? Are you sure? Girl parts?" We were prepared for a boy, settled on our boy name. The one drug doctor went and found out and returned...Yep, it's a girl. At this time, I am still on the table getting stitched up. Steve suddenly began to not feel so well. I told him it was okay to go and see the baby. When he stood up from his stool he began to feel queasy. The 2 drug administering doctors told him to sit back down and that they would wheel him out on his stool. They did not want to chance him passing out and hurting himself. He sat back down, a little embarrassed and went to meet his new daughter. She ended up being the smallest of the three weighing a 7 lbs and 1/2 oz...
Moral of the story: Never dismiss the prayers of small children.
Flash forward a few years...I found myself pregnant again with number 3. It was one of those kind of surprises. Something planned, but not planned. My husband and I were content with the 2 that we had. To show God that I was serious about being content, I sold all of my baby stuff thinking that He would understand that we were okay with a family of 4.
The funny part of this story involved the my 2 older children. I was driving up I-75. I was dropping them off at a friend's house. I was getting ready to attend a funeral. The kids were talking in the back asking questions about the funeral, the deceased, God, the sky...you know, typical kid stuff. All of a sudden they hit me with the "We want a brother or a sister." I politely told them that babies are a special gift from God and that if they want a baby, they would have to pray for one, thinking that they would just drop it and move on. Right then and there, both children offered up a special prayer right in the back seat of my truck. Big brother prayed for a little brother and sissy prayed for twin girls to help her clean her room.
Up until this point I had no real reason to suspect that I was pregnant. I was a little bit late, but with me, that was not uncommon. I never really worked like clockwork. The day after this little prayer from my children, I woke up feeling very sick to my stomach and "the girls" were very sensitive. I kept thinking to myself, "Nah, I can't be..."
On a whim, I bought a pregnancy test and sure enough, I was pregnant! We decided early on to not find out what we were having. After all, I was going to have another c-section. If I knew what I was having I could have the birth announcements pretty much made a month ahead of time! We figured we would just be surprised.
Sissy and Big Brother argued for most of the 9 months about the baby. Sissy was very adamant that the baby was going to be a girl, because that is what she prayed for. She would not entertain for a second the thought that it could be a boy. Around my 8th month in a moment of weakness, I asked my OB nurse if we were having a girl or a boy because regardless of whether I find out or not, it is in my chart. My husband and I decided that we would find out so that if Sissy was wrong, we could gently prepare her for a boy in the few weeks remaining. The nurse mouthed the word boy to me from the door.
I only shared that knowledge with my husband. We didn't do any special preparations, like buying boy clothes or putting out boy clothes in the dresser. We did talk to Sissy and tell her that although she prayed for a girl that it was always a possibility that this could be a brother, after all, Big Brother prayed too.
The time finally came for the c-section. I ended up in a different hospital this time. No crazy anesthesiologist named Bob to give me my spinal. No bra flinging...no hysteria. I ended up having a team of 2 (one was completing her schooling) anesthesiologists that came for a consult before the operation. I expressed my concerns over how sick I get during my surgeries. I also expressed concern for my husband, who up until this point had never gone in on a c-section. My mom had always gone. He is one of those people who faints at the sight of a needle and the smell of a hospital. With a plan in hand for all my concerns we prepped for surgery...
My 2 anesthesiologists were awesome. They installed an air curtain that blew either warm or cold air on me. They both stood at my head and talked to both my husband and me. At the very second I started to feel nauseous they administered medicine. We laughed and joked for a while. My husband was doing great! At some point we asked when they were going to start. Little did we know that the surgery was almost over! Finally the baby was born. The nurse gently placed the baby over the curtain, then took her to the nursery without really saying whether it was a boy or a girl. She must have thought that we already knew. Steve and I looked at each other and asked the anesthesiologists what we had. They replied that they saw girl parts. We were stunned. "Really? Are you sure? Girl parts?" We were prepared for a boy, settled on our boy name. The one drug doctor went and found out and returned...Yep, it's a girl. At this time, I am still on the table getting stitched up. Steve suddenly began to not feel so well. I told him it was okay to go and see the baby. When he stood up from his stool he began to feel queasy. The 2 drug administering doctors told him to sit back down and that they would wheel him out on his stool. They did not want to chance him passing out and hurting himself. He sat back down, a little embarrassed and went to meet his new daughter. She ended up being the smallest of the three weighing a 7 lbs and 1/2 oz...
Moral of the story: Never dismiss the prayers of small children.
Thursday, February 21, 2008
My Birth Story...
Evidently there is some sort of contest having to do with sharing your birth story.
Here's the rules:
Post your birth/adoption stories on YOUR blog, and post a link to Michelle's blog. If you do not have your own blog, but would still like to participate, you may post your birth story in the comments section of Michelle's blog here. Don't forget to post a link in the comments on Michelle's blog, or else she won't know you posted a story...Michelle will pick ONE story each day to be "showcased" the next day on her blog. At the end of the contest (which runs until 2/26). On 2/27, we will get to vote on the showcased stories, and on 2/28, Michelle will announce the winner on her Gabbin' Mama blog.
Just because I am a follower and pretty much do what I am told to do without a lot of fussing, I am posting my birth story.
Steven and I had bathed this pregnancy in prayer. Each morning I would pray that I would have a boy, that he would have blond hair and blue eyes, that he would be healthy and that I would have a natural delivery. At the time, we had insurance, but it did not cover pregnancy. I had made arrangements with my OBGYN to pay cash for his services at a discounted rate and had paid for the special delivery at McLaren. For a mere $1100.00 you got an overnite stay in a luxurious birthing suite, meals, meds care for yourself and the baby. What a deal!
I was fast approaching my due date. I had about 8 days to go. Steven was playing basketball one Monday night with some of the youth from church. I am not sure what funky move it was that he made, but he heard a pop and was immediately on the floor not really able to walk or stand straight. For those of you who know my husband, he has not been blessed with a good back. This particular night he threw his back out. I remember my father-in-law and another friend coming into the house one on each side of Steven helping him walk through the door. I was mortified. Here I am...big as a house, feeling like I was ready to pop, and here is my husband who can't stand up straight or take off his shoes, dress himself...you get the picture. I spent that night on the livingroom floor with him. You have to remember I was in my mid-20's. Pregnancy and flexiblity were much easier then. I could sleep anywhere! The next day I remember driving him to the doctor, helping him to get dressed...the whole 9 yards. By Wednesday, he had started to feel a little better...especially with the help of pain meds. He could walk better and could even dress himself.
Wednesday evening we were laying on the floor talking. My chocolate lab Emmi was at my side all night long. She would not leave my side. If I got up to get a drink...she got up to get a drink. If I went to the bathroom, she was right there beside me. I thought it very odd, as she was usually my husband's dog. She liked me, but LOVED Steven. She would not leave me alone that night. I didn't think too much about it...
...Until about 11:30 that night. I woke up having to go to the bathroom very bad, you know, the first trip of many through the night spaced at 2-2 1/2 hour intervals. I sat down to pee and got back up when I was finished only to find that I started going again. I was pretty groggy at the time and really didn't know what was going on. I just thought to myself, "Great, another joy of pregnancy they don't tell you about...you lose all bladder control at the end." So I sat back down. The "peeing" stopped. I stood back up again...the "peeing" started again. I probably stood up and sat down about 6 times before it finally dawned on me that my water had broke. After an eternity in the bathroom, I finally waddled across the hall to find some pads to help with my little leakage problem. Being the big procrastinator I am (I still had a week left) I set about trying to pack a bag for myself and for the baby.
I waddled down the hall to our bedroom in the perfect picture of calmness and pulled the blankets over Steven's head so as not to wake him up when I turned on the light (what was I thinking?). For whatever reason he woke up anyway and asked me what on earth I was doing. I told him that I thought that my water had broke and I was just getting some stuff ready to go to the hospital. I can't say that he jumped out of bed, as he was still nursing a bad back, but he sprang to life and started playing the part of the nervous dad.
At some point, I called up to the hospital so that they could get my room ready. I can remember her asking me what symptoms I was having. At the time I didn't really have any contractions. I had just told her I thought my water had broke because when I sat down to pee, I never stopped. She told me I could take my time, shower and meander up to the hospital at my leisure, my room would be ready and waiting.
In our birthing classes, we learned about all these preparations you should make when you go to deliver...to pack activities, cards, magazines, cd's, candy, chapstick, you know...settle in for the long hall. I began to panic. I had bought a Kenny G cd specifically for mood music during labor, but didn't have a cd player. We ended up stopping at Meijer on the way to the hospital so Steve could pick up a cd player while I sat in the car on my towel.
At about 1:30 am we made it to the hospital. The nurses did their checking and confirmed that I had not peed myself. The strapped me to the monitors and checked the downstairs business only to find that I had not effaced or dilated one iota. They told me to relax and get some sleep...sure!
At 1:30 in the morning there was a woman in the next room delivering with a midwife who was encouraging her to yell, scream, grunt or whatever means of self expression she could muster and deliver her baby. Even Kenny G in all his saxaphone smoothness could not cover the screams of this lady. After about an hour (but felt like 24), her screams died down and the tiny wail of a baby could be heard. At that point, we finally relaxed enough to start trying to sleep. Of course you know how short lived sleep is when you are in a hospital. There is always someone prodding and poking at you!
After a resident or 2, a handful of nurses, the entire Detroit Lions football team and any other interested on-looker had a peek, they decided to try a few different things to get the ball rolling, as I was not effaced or having contractions.
By morning Steve's family had received their phone calls and were waiting with us in the room. My contractions were very mild at this point. My doctor had visited and noticed that the baby was experiencing decelerations in his hear rate with my contractions and had ordered an internal scalp monitor. It was at this point that I pretty much had to stay in bed. By mid afternoon, they decided to give me pitocin to get the contractions rolling.
It was at this point we were experiencing a changing of the guard. In-laws were coming and going and my mom had shown up. Steven actually had walked some family down to the parking lot and was not in the room. It was just me and my mom. For whatever reason the nurse had my iv going very fast. I ended up having a contraction that lasted for about 7 minutes. It was in my back and would not let up. Of course, being hooked up to the monitor, you can hear everything. The baby's heartrate dropped from a steady 140 beats per minute down to about 40 beats per minute. I immediately went into panic hysterical mode. My mom was desperately trying to calm me down. A swarm of nurses came flying into my room and decended upon me like a flock of hungry vultures. It was at this time that Steven was rounding the corner ready to head back to the room
They had me on my side, hands and knees and in a variety of positions to bring up the baby's heart rate. One nurse injected me with something that stopped the contractions. I was still very hysterical and inconsolable at this point. The nurse called the doctor and told him what was going on and he ended up instructing her to give me her phone. Wouldn't you know that he dropped everything that he was doing, hopped in his car and flew to the hospital. He talked to me the entire way on his cell phone. I was prepped for surgery and pretty much ready to roll by the time he got there.
Back in the OR, I was getting ready to get my spinal block for the c-section. I had this crazy anesthesiologist (sp?) named Bob. Try as he might, he was having a heck of a time getting the right spot and had jokingly said that by the time it was all said and done he would have his name tatooed in my back. I can still feel the sensation of that needle being poked in my back!
Partway through the process Bob had noticed that I still had my bra on. If you know me, you know that I am pretty modest. I was not about to sit around with all those people in my room without a bra. He told me that it had to go...no bras in surgery. He instructed the nurse to get it off me. After a small wrestling match she handed him my bra, which he took and flung on my iv pole. Now remember I am a crying, sobbing, hysterical mess who is surviving on little sleep and was thinking my baby was dying. I ended up yelling at him..."That is NOT some toy to just be flung around." The people in the OR got quite a chuckle out of that one. I guess it was then that I regained some composure and got some of my sense of humor back.
Within a few minutes my mom joined me for the surgery. I can't say that it was a very pleasant experience. My spinal was way too high. I could not feel anything below my neck. My hands were not only strapped down, but they were feeling pretty numb. As soon as the incision was made, I vomited...again and again and again. Pretty much until the surgery was done. What a joy though...my baby was perfect...
I can remember the family congregated in the recovery room waiting to meet our son for the first time. I can also remember being immensely afraid to hold him because of not being able to fully feel my hands! I can remember that instant feeling of falling in love all over again and the heart of thanksgiving we felt for the Lord protecting us as he did. As it turns out, the insurance company ended up covering the c-section because of the emergency nature of it. My prayers were answered, just not in the way I thought they would be!
I went on later to have 2 more children, and 2 more c-sections. All births just as special as the first, but with a whole lot less drama! Thank you Lord!
Here's the rules:
Post your birth/adoption stories on YOUR blog, and post a link to Michelle's blog. If you do not have your own blog, but would still like to participate, you may post your birth story in the comments section of Michelle's blog here. Don't forget to post a link in the comments on Michelle's blog, or else she won't know you posted a story...Michelle will pick ONE story each day to be "showcased" the next day on her blog. At the end of the contest (which runs until 2/26). On 2/27, we will get to vote on the showcased stories, and on 2/28, Michelle will announce the winner on her Gabbin' Mama blog.
Just because I am a follower and pretty much do what I am told to do without a lot of fussing, I am posting my birth story.
Steven and I had bathed this pregnancy in prayer. Each morning I would pray that I would have a boy, that he would have blond hair and blue eyes, that he would be healthy and that I would have a natural delivery. At the time, we had insurance, but it did not cover pregnancy. I had made arrangements with my OBGYN to pay cash for his services at a discounted rate and had paid for the special delivery at McLaren. For a mere $1100.00 you got an overnite stay in a luxurious birthing suite, meals, meds care for yourself and the baby. What a deal!
I was fast approaching my due date. I had about 8 days to go. Steven was playing basketball one Monday night with some of the youth from church. I am not sure what funky move it was that he made, but he heard a pop and was immediately on the floor not really able to walk or stand straight. For those of you who know my husband, he has not been blessed with a good back. This particular night he threw his back out. I remember my father-in-law and another friend coming into the house one on each side of Steven helping him walk through the door. I was mortified. Here I am...big as a house, feeling like I was ready to pop, and here is my husband who can't stand up straight or take off his shoes, dress himself...you get the picture. I spent that night on the livingroom floor with him. You have to remember I was in my mid-20's. Pregnancy and flexiblity were much easier then. I could sleep anywhere! The next day I remember driving him to the doctor, helping him to get dressed...the whole 9 yards. By Wednesday, he had started to feel a little better...especially with the help of pain meds. He could walk better and could even dress himself.
Wednesday evening we were laying on the floor talking. My chocolate lab Emmi was at my side all night long. She would not leave my side. If I got up to get a drink...she got up to get a drink. If I went to the bathroom, she was right there beside me. I thought it very odd, as she was usually my husband's dog. She liked me, but LOVED Steven. She would not leave me alone that night. I didn't think too much about it...
...Until about 11:30 that night. I woke up having to go to the bathroom very bad, you know, the first trip of many through the night spaced at 2-2 1/2 hour intervals. I sat down to pee and got back up when I was finished only to find that I started going again. I was pretty groggy at the time and really didn't know what was going on. I just thought to myself, "Great, another joy of pregnancy they don't tell you about...you lose all bladder control at the end." So I sat back down. The "peeing" stopped. I stood back up again...the "peeing" started again. I probably stood up and sat down about 6 times before it finally dawned on me that my water had broke. After an eternity in the bathroom, I finally waddled across the hall to find some pads to help with my little leakage problem. Being the big procrastinator I am (I still had a week left) I set about trying to pack a bag for myself and for the baby.
I waddled down the hall to our bedroom in the perfect picture of calmness and pulled the blankets over Steven's head so as not to wake him up when I turned on the light (what was I thinking?). For whatever reason he woke up anyway and asked me what on earth I was doing. I told him that I thought that my water had broke and I was just getting some stuff ready to go to the hospital. I can't say that he jumped out of bed, as he was still nursing a bad back, but he sprang to life and started playing the part of the nervous dad.
At some point, I called up to the hospital so that they could get my room ready. I can remember her asking me what symptoms I was having. At the time I didn't really have any contractions. I had just told her I thought my water had broke because when I sat down to pee, I never stopped. She told me I could take my time, shower and meander up to the hospital at my leisure, my room would be ready and waiting.
In our birthing classes, we learned about all these preparations you should make when you go to deliver...to pack activities, cards, magazines, cd's, candy, chapstick, you know...settle in for the long hall. I began to panic. I had bought a Kenny G cd specifically for mood music during labor, but didn't have a cd player. We ended up stopping at Meijer on the way to the hospital so Steve could pick up a cd player while I sat in the car on my towel.
At about 1:30 am we made it to the hospital. The nurses did their checking and confirmed that I had not peed myself. The strapped me to the monitors and checked the downstairs business only to find that I had not effaced or dilated one iota. They told me to relax and get some sleep...sure!
At 1:30 in the morning there was a woman in the next room delivering with a midwife who was encouraging her to yell, scream, grunt or whatever means of self expression she could muster and deliver her baby. Even Kenny G in all his saxaphone smoothness could not cover the screams of this lady. After about an hour (but felt like 24), her screams died down and the tiny wail of a baby could be heard. At that point, we finally relaxed enough to start trying to sleep. Of course you know how short lived sleep is when you are in a hospital. There is always someone prodding and poking at you!
After a resident or 2, a handful of nurses, the entire Detroit Lions football team and any other interested on-looker had a peek, they decided to try a few different things to get the ball rolling, as I was not effaced or having contractions.
By morning Steve's family had received their phone calls and were waiting with us in the room. My contractions were very mild at this point. My doctor had visited and noticed that the baby was experiencing decelerations in his hear rate with my contractions and had ordered an internal scalp monitor. It was at this point that I pretty much had to stay in bed. By mid afternoon, they decided to give me pitocin to get the contractions rolling.
It was at this point we were experiencing a changing of the guard. In-laws were coming and going and my mom had shown up. Steven actually had walked some family down to the parking lot and was not in the room. It was just me and my mom. For whatever reason the nurse had my iv going very fast. I ended up having a contraction that lasted for about 7 minutes. It was in my back and would not let up. Of course, being hooked up to the monitor, you can hear everything. The baby's heartrate dropped from a steady 140 beats per minute down to about 40 beats per minute. I immediately went into panic hysterical mode. My mom was desperately trying to calm me down. A swarm of nurses came flying into my room and decended upon me like a flock of hungry vultures. It was at this time that Steven was rounding the corner ready to head back to the room
They had me on my side, hands and knees and in a variety of positions to bring up the baby's heart rate. One nurse injected me with something that stopped the contractions. I was still very hysterical and inconsolable at this point. The nurse called the doctor and told him what was going on and he ended up instructing her to give me her phone. Wouldn't you know that he dropped everything that he was doing, hopped in his car and flew to the hospital. He talked to me the entire way on his cell phone. I was prepped for surgery and pretty much ready to roll by the time he got there.
Back in the OR, I was getting ready to get my spinal block for the c-section. I had this crazy anesthesiologist (sp?) named Bob. Try as he might, he was having a heck of a time getting the right spot and had jokingly said that by the time it was all said and done he would have his name tatooed in my back. I can still feel the sensation of that needle being poked in my back!
Partway through the process Bob had noticed that I still had my bra on. If you know me, you know that I am pretty modest. I was not about to sit around with all those people in my room without a bra. He told me that it had to go...no bras in surgery. He instructed the nurse to get it off me. After a small wrestling match she handed him my bra, which he took and flung on my iv pole. Now remember I am a crying, sobbing, hysterical mess who is surviving on little sleep and was thinking my baby was dying. I ended up yelling at him..."That is NOT some toy to just be flung around." The people in the OR got quite a chuckle out of that one. I guess it was then that I regained some composure and got some of my sense of humor back.
Within a few minutes my mom joined me for the surgery. I can't say that it was a very pleasant experience. My spinal was way too high. I could not feel anything below my neck. My hands were not only strapped down, but they were feeling pretty numb. As soon as the incision was made, I vomited...again and again and again. Pretty much until the surgery was done. What a joy though...my baby was perfect...
I can remember the family congregated in the recovery room waiting to meet our son for the first time. I can also remember being immensely afraid to hold him because of not being able to fully feel my hands! I can remember that instant feeling of falling in love all over again and the heart of thanksgiving we felt for the Lord protecting us as he did. As it turns out, the insurance company ended up covering the c-section because of the emergency nature of it. My prayers were answered, just not in the way I thought they would be!
I went on later to have 2 more children, and 2 more c-sections. All births just as special as the first, but with a whole lot less drama! Thank you Lord!
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
I've Got it Bad!
Yep, I have to admit I've got it bad...I'm sick of being cooped up in the house while it is only 4 degrees outside. I'm sick of strep throat, walking pneumonia and ear infections. I know that only a few posts ago I was taking pictures of the snow and saying how lovely it is. It is still pretty, but I'd much rather see it on the news as it falls on a mountaintop in Alaska. Today I have spring fever. I miss the sunshine on my face and the feel of green grass on my toes. These are the things I LOVE about spring....
Swinging...
Bouncing...
Riding...
I just have to ask...what was that stupid groundhog thinking when he ordained more winter?
Tulips....
Swinging...
Bouncing...
Riding...
I just have to ask...what was that stupid groundhog thinking when he ordained more winter? Thursday, February 14, 2008
As Per Your Request...
Okay Julie, as per your request, I am listing 7 things that are supposed to be interesting about me...
1. I once rode a pig backwards & probably would have had an 8 sec. qualifying run if someone had been timing it.
2. I can't downhill ski to save my soul...shoot...I can't even make it up a tow rope. Okay, so I did finally make it up a tow rope after about 1 hour of trying, but never graduated from the bunny hill.
3. I've been accused of being very clumsy...refer to #2
4. In the second grade, I ran into the corner of our brick school building while eating a Milky Way bar. When the aide was helping to clean me up and having me spit out the candy bar, the kids thought I was spitting out my teeth. I got to spend the rest of the day with my head down on my desk nursing my fat lip with an ice pack. That night we went out to eat at Pizza Hut. My lips were so fat I couldn't eat...I could only suck water through a straw. But man...was that candy bar good. (see #3)
5. My name is Destini. It was supposed to be Tammy Lee. When it came down to crunch time, my dad threw out the name "Destini" after hearing the song "Bang Bang Shoot em up Destini" and thought it would be a cool name for a girl. I've never heard the song and have no clue who wrote it. Since I am a product of the 70's make love not war era, it was probably some drug song. My mom agreed to the name as long as I had my grandmother's middle name, LaVonne, which I do. Funny thing is, when I met Steven, he had broken up with the girl whom he thought was the love of his life. Guess what her name was?
6. I pick my toenails. I'm sorry, but I always have....it is a compulsion, I guess...It is also an inherited "Jones" trait. My dad does it too. So do my aunts. Shoot...I've even seen my grandpa do it.
7. I have a HUGE big toe. It is very ugly. Even my mom's OBGYN commented on it in the hospital. He thought I was a beautiful baby, but "Wow, look at that big toe." I won't tell you what other dirty-minded people have said it resembles. I have waaaay too much dignity for that!
I hope that now you all know my dirty little secrets you won't love me any less...
I have totally no clue who to tag on here...
1. I once rode a pig backwards & probably would have had an 8 sec. qualifying run if someone had been timing it.
2. I can't downhill ski to save my soul...shoot...I can't even make it up a tow rope. Okay, so I did finally make it up a tow rope after about 1 hour of trying, but never graduated from the bunny hill.
3. I've been accused of being very clumsy...refer to #2
4. In the second grade, I ran into the corner of our brick school building while eating a Milky Way bar. When the aide was helping to clean me up and having me spit out the candy bar, the kids thought I was spitting out my teeth. I got to spend the rest of the day with my head down on my desk nursing my fat lip with an ice pack. That night we went out to eat at Pizza Hut. My lips were so fat I couldn't eat...I could only suck water through a straw. But man...was that candy bar good. (see #3)
5. My name is Destini. It was supposed to be Tammy Lee. When it came down to crunch time, my dad threw out the name "Destini" after hearing the song "Bang Bang Shoot em up Destini" and thought it would be a cool name for a girl. I've never heard the song and have no clue who wrote it. Since I am a product of the 70's make love not war era, it was probably some drug song. My mom agreed to the name as long as I had my grandmother's middle name, LaVonne, which I do. Funny thing is, when I met Steven, he had broken up with the girl whom he thought was the love of his life. Guess what her name was?
6. I pick my toenails. I'm sorry, but I always have....it is a compulsion, I guess...It is also an inherited "Jones" trait. My dad does it too. So do my aunts. Shoot...I've even seen my grandpa do it.
7. I have a HUGE big toe. It is very ugly. Even my mom's OBGYN commented on it in the hospital. He thought I was a beautiful baby, but "Wow, look at that big toe." I won't tell you what other dirty-minded people have said it resembles. I have waaaay too much dignity for that!
I hope that now you all know my dirty little secrets you won't love me any less...
I have totally no clue who to tag on here...
Tag...
So I dutifully listed the 7 interesting facts about myself, but am afraid I faltered at the tagging 7 people thing. I did pick one person, who is a complete stranger, I might add, and it felt so incredibly weird to comment her and ask her 7 things about herself. I guess that adds another interesting fact about me...I am very shy until you get to know me. I have a really hard time just walking upto, or logging on to sites of people I don't know and asking them about themselves. I guess that is why I never really got into the whole bar scene! So, anyway, I have tagged www.misswisabus.com. She is a follower of The Pioneerwoman and had a really cool blog. Whether she will participate or not, I don't know!
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
Child-isms
In following Cindy's lead, I thought I would write about one of my middle daughter's funny quotes. I thank Cindy for the Colson-isms as I forget to write that stuff down. It is so priceless!
One day heading home from school, I swung into the GW Boutique on Center Road. I was looking for some old jeans for a sewing project. It was quite slippery outside, so as we were getting out of the van I told the kids to be careful.
Sissy says, "Don't worry about me mom, I'll be okay, I have fractions on my boots."
Not to be left out, a big brother story (or 2)...
My mom...er...Santa faithfully every year put the largest apple or orange in the bottom of our stockings every year. I thought that was great! We didn't always have the luxury of having fresh fruit in the house all of the time, so when Christmas rolled around I always looked forward to the huge piece of fruit! When we ate our fruit on Christmas morning, that counted as breakfast, which allowed us to then start in on the candy. Later on I found out Santa did that just to take up space.
Having such fond memories of my Christmas fruit, I thought I would start that tradition with my children. I can remember a few years back, about the time that Big Brother really had a grasp of what went on Christmas morning and could really express himself, he was tearing into his stocking. He was oohing and aahing and "Oh Cool"-ing over his hot wheels and other trinkets in his stocking. When he got to the very bottom, he worked and worked and dug that huge apple (or was it an organge? I am pretty sure it was an apple..who can remember anymore? That's why I have to write this stuff down. What ever it was it was BIG. Let's just say it was an apple) from the bottom of his stocking. He looked at it for a minute not really knowing what to think and yells..."Hey... It's a big stinkin apple! Santa gave me a big stinkin apple in my stocking!
Another funny one of Big Brother's moments occurred when he was about 4 years old.
We were sitting at the dinner table one night discussing life. Big Brother starts asking questions about teachers. "Is is right for teachers to say that they are God? My teacher told me I had to be quiet because she is God." Steve and I thought about it for a second, not really sure what to say. Was this teacher threatening our child? We assumed this was his preschool teacher making these comments.
We told him that no teacher is God, we have one God...etc., etc., etc., if there is a teacher out there proclaiming to be God, by golly, we will have a talk with him or her. About 1 week passed after this conversation and we really didn't think much about it until I got a phone call. It was from the Children's Supervisor at BSF...
I was going to BSF (Bible Study Fellowship). They had a preschool program that Big Brother had been going to since the age of 2. Part of the schedule included a 10 minute quiet period. It was during this time that the children were instructed to "Be Still and Know that I am God." The leaders were using the Bible verse to instruct the children on the importance of quieting your heart and taking time not only to pray, but also to listen to hear God's words...
The supervisor was giggling when she called and when she finally collected her thoughts said that she had a little situation that needed to be brought to my attention. It seems that my son took his first stand as a Christian and expressed his displeasure at the teacher referring to herself as God and he was going to have his mom and dad talk to her about it.
In all her many years involved in BSF had never had a 4 year old put so much thought into what that verse was saying...she told me that she was proud of him for "calling them out" so to speak and said that from then on they would include a little bit more explanation of the verse.
It was then that we realized that we were in trouble!
One day heading home from school, I swung into the GW Boutique on Center Road. I was looking for some old jeans for a sewing project. It was quite slippery outside, so as we were getting out of the van I told the kids to be careful.
Sissy says, "Don't worry about me mom, I'll be okay, I have fractions on my boots."
Not to be left out, a big brother story (or 2)...
My mom...er...Santa faithfully every year put the largest apple or orange in the bottom of our stockings every year. I thought that was great! We didn't always have the luxury of having fresh fruit in the house all of the time, so when Christmas rolled around I always looked forward to the huge piece of fruit! When we ate our fruit on Christmas morning, that counted as breakfast, which allowed us to then start in on the candy. Later on I found out Santa did that just to take up space.
Having such fond memories of my Christmas fruit, I thought I would start that tradition with my children. I can remember a few years back, about the time that Big Brother really had a grasp of what went on Christmas morning and could really express himself, he was tearing into his stocking. He was oohing and aahing and "Oh Cool"-ing over his hot wheels and other trinkets in his stocking. When he got to the very bottom, he worked and worked and dug that huge apple (or was it an organge? I am pretty sure it was an apple..who can remember anymore? That's why I have to write this stuff down. What ever it was it was BIG. Let's just say it was an apple) from the bottom of his stocking. He looked at it for a minute not really knowing what to think and yells..."Hey... It's a big stinkin apple! Santa gave me a big stinkin apple in my stocking!
Another funny one of Big Brother's moments occurred when he was about 4 years old.
We were sitting at the dinner table one night discussing life. Big Brother starts asking questions about teachers. "Is is right for teachers to say that they are God? My teacher told me I had to be quiet because she is God." Steve and I thought about it for a second, not really sure what to say. Was this teacher threatening our child? We assumed this was his preschool teacher making these comments.
We told him that no teacher is God, we have one God...etc., etc., etc., if there is a teacher out there proclaiming to be God, by golly, we will have a talk with him or her. About 1 week passed after this conversation and we really didn't think much about it until I got a phone call. It was from the Children's Supervisor at BSF...
I was going to BSF (Bible Study Fellowship). They had a preschool program that Big Brother had been going to since the age of 2. Part of the schedule included a 10 minute quiet period. It was during this time that the children were instructed to "Be Still and Know that I am God." The leaders were using the Bible verse to instruct the children on the importance of quieting your heart and taking time not only to pray, but also to listen to hear God's words...
The supervisor was giggling when she called and when she finally collected her thoughts said that she had a little situation that needed to be brought to my attention. It seems that my son took his first stand as a Christian and expressed his displeasure at the teacher referring to herself as God and he was going to have his mom and dad talk to her about it.
In all her many years involved in BSF had never had a 4 year old put so much thought into what that verse was saying...she told me that she was proud of him for "calling them out" so to speak and said that from then on they would include a little bit more explanation of the verse.
It was then that we realized that we were in trouble!
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
Pray
For those not familiar with Nate and his family, you can follow the link by clicking on his name or in the side bar where it says praying for Nate and catch up with his story. His baby is continuing to flourish and his wife is getting stronger. Neither are out of the woods yet. Please continue to lift them in prayer. The Doctors have found MRSA on the baby's nose, but say that she is not yet infected. Pray that she won't be!
There are so many stories of people in need of the encouragement and prayers of God's people. A person could spend many days following the links of thousands of blogs...all personal testimonies of how they are suffering and struggling, but also rejoicing and praying. I've joined the prayer line at our church and receive weekly e-mails on some of the needs of our people at church. I don't say this to gain any kind of recognition of any good deed or to be holier than thou or to claim my prayer life is all that it should be. I am far from being a true prayer warrior. To be perfectly honest, there are times when I feel completely overwhelmed by the constant needs of our people. When I shower, I think over these requests in my mind, usually sobbing and crying out to the Lord. I try to put myself in that person's or family's shoes. How would I react? Would I draw nearer or farther from God? My heart breaks constantly for the tradgedy that occurs daily for my Christian brothers and sisters and for those that are apart from God.
It is then that I realize that I make this all a "me" thing, when it should not be me at all. I get all caught up in the pain and the sorrow and tend to miss out on the good that God is doing in the situation.
Then my heart focuses on God...to think our God hears all of our prayers, the spoken and the unspoken. He does so without being overwhelmed. He knows all of our successes, our failures, our joys and our pains. He knows our name and has claimed us as his children. He knows the beginning of the story and the end and gives us specific answers to our prayers and meets our needs ever so faithfully. Not only that, but when we are dealing with these things, He also promises restoration and peace.
I am praying for that hedge of protection, comfort, strength, encouragement, and healing, not only physical, but also spiritual and emotional, for all of us in need--myself included!
There are so many stories of people in need of the encouragement and prayers of God's people. A person could spend many days following the links of thousands of blogs...all personal testimonies of how they are suffering and struggling, but also rejoicing and praying. I've joined the prayer line at our church and receive weekly e-mails on some of the needs of our people at church. I don't say this to gain any kind of recognition of any good deed or to be holier than thou or to claim my prayer life is all that it should be. I am far from being a true prayer warrior. To be perfectly honest, there are times when I feel completely overwhelmed by the constant needs of our people. When I shower, I think over these requests in my mind, usually sobbing and crying out to the Lord. I try to put myself in that person's or family's shoes. How would I react? Would I draw nearer or farther from God? My heart breaks constantly for the tradgedy that occurs daily for my Christian brothers and sisters and for those that are apart from God.
It is then that I realize that I make this all a "me" thing, when it should not be me at all. I get all caught up in the pain and the sorrow and tend to miss out on the good that God is doing in the situation.
Then my heart focuses on God...to think our God hears all of our prayers, the spoken and the unspoken. He does so without being overwhelmed. He knows all of our successes, our failures, our joys and our pains. He knows our name and has claimed us as his children. He knows the beginning of the story and the end and gives us specific answers to our prayers and meets our needs ever so faithfully. Not only that, but when we are dealing with these things, He also promises restoration and peace.
I am praying for that hedge of protection, comfort, strength, encouragement, and healing, not only physical, but also spiritual and emotional, for all of us in need--myself included!
Sunday, February 10, 2008
It's Time to Lock the Doors When...
So I totally opened up the door on this one and I totally cannot believe I am publishing this for the world to read. Julie, I hope that when you read this, you will appreciate the fact I did this just for you. I am blushing again as I type this and will probably be blushing at various times during the day when I think people might be logging on to read this.
My only request (and this is not a blog tag thing) is that you voluntarily post an embarrassing story about yourself. You can either do it in the comments or on your own blog...where ever you think best. You too, Cindy and Amanda. That is the price! I so need someone to commiserate with. This story is more about not having the body of an 18 year old anymore and my 3 year old taking notice of that fact, besides the fact that it is embarrassing.
We were getting ready for church one Sunday morning. Steven had gotten out of the shower and was in the process of getting dressed. He had his jeans on and was standing in the bedroom in front of the closet trying to decide what shirt to wear. Just so happens I was in the bedroom talking to him...fully dressed. Boogie came in and noticed Steven standing there without his shirt. She says to him, "Daddy, you have little boobies." Not sure how to really respond, he says, "yes I do." She sits there for a second contemplating her next move and says, "I have tiny boobies." As she says this, she lifts up her shirt and gives them the once over and a poke. Before Steve or I could answer she looks at me and says, "Mommy has big LONG LOOONG Boobies." I thought I was going to die right there on the floor. Big would have been okay. I could handle big. But Long LOOONG...2 longs! C'mon!
Does she not realize I sacrificed them for her greater good? What's a girl to do? I picked 'em up off the floor, tucked 'em in and headed for church...there you have it.
My only request (and this is not a blog tag thing) is that you voluntarily post an embarrassing story about yourself. You can either do it in the comments or on your own blog...where ever you think best. You too, Cindy and Amanda. That is the price! I so need someone to commiserate with. This story is more about not having the body of an 18 year old anymore and my 3 year old taking notice of that fact, besides the fact that it is embarrassing.
We were getting ready for church one Sunday morning. Steven had gotten out of the shower and was in the process of getting dressed. He had his jeans on and was standing in the bedroom in front of the closet trying to decide what shirt to wear. Just so happens I was in the bedroom talking to him...fully dressed. Boogie came in and noticed Steven standing there without his shirt. She says to him, "Daddy, you have little boobies." Not sure how to really respond, he says, "yes I do." She sits there for a second contemplating her next move and says, "I have tiny boobies." As she says this, she lifts up her shirt and gives them the once over and a poke. Before Steve or I could answer she looks at me and says, "Mommy has big LONG LOOONG Boobies." I thought I was going to die right there on the floor. Big would have been okay. I could handle big. But Long LOOONG...2 longs! C'mon!
Does she not realize I sacrificed them for her greater good? What's a girl to do? I picked 'em up off the floor, tucked 'em in and headed for church...there you have it.
Friday, February 8, 2008
Under the Watchful Eye of Zeus
For those not familiar with Boogie, she is always on the go. She is the mover and the shaker. But when she crashes, she crashes hard, thus the name Boogie. Poor Boogs caught another cold last week about the time we returned from our little jaunt to Cadillac. The last couple of days she has been running a mild fever, which we've pretty much just let run its course. Today she woke up with a fever of 103 that only went down to about 101 with the aid of Tylenol. I took her to the doctor today fully expecting to hear that she had a sinus infection or something. Much to my amazement, she had an ear infection with perforation. I have to admit I was shocked. She never once complained about her ears hurting. Hopefully now she will be getting back to her movin' shakin' little self soon.
First indication that something was wrong...she fell asleep infront of the tv last night
This was her sleeping today after her appointment. Notice her body guard situated at her feet? He has barely left her side most of the day today...not even to chase the cat.
Zeus...the little dog with the BIG heart...the caretaker of the sick.
First indication that something was wrong...she fell asleep infront of the tv last night(that very seldom happens)
This was her sleeping today after her appointment. Notice her body guard situated at her feet? He has barely left her side most of the day today...not even to chase the cat.
Zeus...the little dog with the BIG heart...the caretaker of the sick.
Thursday, February 7, 2008
Beautiful White Blanket
I guess I am one of those crazy people who thinks if it is going to be cold, we may as well have a foot of snow on the ground. I love snow storms, expecially when we have a fire going, nowhere pressing to be and are all home together cozy in the house. Rarely does it happen that we are ALL cozy in the house. My husband LOVES to be out in the thick of things. The worse the roads are, the more he likes it. I guess I am a little like that too. I find it exhilarating to drive in the snow. I have no desire to drive on the ice, but snow really doesn't bother me. I don't know why...maybe it is that sense of adventure of battling the weather to get to where you are going. I think my favorite thing about a big snow storm is having school cancelled the night before. Just being able to go to bed with the knowledge that you don't have to get up.
I snapped a few pictures of the snow this morning before the sun was really out and brightening things up. I think the darkness gave these pictures an eerie feel. I'll either have to try fixing them and adding some brightness, or wait until it brightens up some more and take some new ones.
Here at a random spot in the yard we get a reading of 10 inches
A view of the back yard. I know, the pictures are dark, but I kind of like the eerie hue.
Here is the little tree in the front yard...
...and the pine trees in the front. They look absolutely beautiful with all of the snow piled on.
I snapped a few pictures of the snow this morning before the sun was really out and brightening things up. I think the darkness gave these pictures an eerie feel. I'll either have to try fixing them and adding some brightness, or wait until it brightens up some more and take some new ones.
I love looking outside and seeing the snow stuck in the trees and a fresh blanket across the ground. John McMurray said that we got about 12 inches last night. I performed some non-scientific calculations and found totals on my deck around 7 inches and some parts of the yard at 10 inches. I'm sure if I traipsed farther, I might have found the 12 inch mark. One thing is for certain, we got A LOT of snow.
I think it is so cool the way the snow just piles up on some surfaces, like our patio table. Though you can't really see it, the table reads 7" of fresh snow.
I think it is so cool the way the snow just piles up on some surfaces, like our patio table. Though you can't really see it, the table reads 7" of fresh snow.
Here at a random spot in the yard we get a reading of 10 inches
A view of the back yard. I know, the pictures are dark, but I kind of like the eerie hue.
Here is the little tree in the front yard...
...and the pine trees in the front. They look absolutely beautiful with all of the snow piled on.The cool thing about a snow day is the kids. They can't wait to get breakfast and get outside to play in the snow. Right now they are trying to make some "ice cream" or something with some of the fresh snow. I will have to take some pictures once they get out there. Have a blessed day!
Tuesday, February 5, 2008
You know your butt is getting big when...
Pardon me upfront for my candor, potty humor, etc...
So I was sitting on the toilet this morning. As usual, Boogie was right there beside me offering a commentary on the morning business. In all her sweet cuteness she says to me: "Mom, that toilet is too small for you."
ME: "Excuse Me? What do you mean by that?"
BOOGIE: "You know, the hole...it's too small for you."
ME: (thinks to herself, thanks a lot, who invited you in here anyway, just wait...someday you'll have children of your own...I brought you into this world...) Lets just say lots of thoughts went through my mind. Eventually all I could do was laugh. After I finish this box of donuts and 1/2 gallon of icecream I'm so going to get on the treadmill for an hour...
So I was sitting on the toilet this morning. As usual, Boogie was right there beside me offering a commentary on the morning business. In all her sweet cuteness she says to me: "Mom, that toilet is too small for you."
ME: "Excuse Me? What do you mean by that?"
BOOGIE: "You know, the hole...it's too small for you."
ME: (thinks to herself, thanks a lot, who invited you in here anyway, just wait...someday you'll have children of your own...I brought you into this world...) Lets just say lots of thoughts went through my mind. Eventually all I could do was laugh. After I finish this box of donuts and 1/2 gallon of icecream I'm so going to get on the treadmill for an hour...
Monday, February 4, 2008
A Day Late and a Dollar Short
On Monday of last week, Steven and I had the opportunity to get away for a couple of days. My in-laws had purchased a little get-away for us that included a 2 night hotel stay, 2 breakfasts, and dinner, not to mention easy access to snowmobile trails. We loaded up the sleds, packed our stuff and headed out to Cadillac. When we arrived on Monday it was a balmy 37 degrees and very nice outside. We decided it would be now or never to ride, so we donned our gear, hopped on the sled and rode off in search of gas. We got our gas, hopped on the trail and rode about a mile before turning around...the trails were past the point of snirt ( I really get a chuckle out of that word...snirt...never knew it was a word until we started checking on websites for snowmobile trail conditions. Snow + dirt = snirt.) They were completely muddy or would that make them smuddy? We had heard from the gas station attendant that the trails were perfect right up until about Sunday. She had said there was A LOT of snowmobilers over the weekend. We ended up going back to the hotel and put the sled back on the trailer. Later that afternoon, it started pouring. It is amazing how fast snow disappears in a downpour!
We were a little disappointed that the weather was not cooperating with us, but decided to make the best of our alone time together. We went to a movie in downtown Cadillac on Monday night. If you get a chance, you'll have to ask Steven what he feels are the 3 most important lessons he has learned about life.
We drove to the Mission Point Lighthouse. I love lighthouses. I am slowly starting to collect pictures of the various lighthouses I've seen over the years. I love the history behind them.
This one has been restored and is very nice on the inside. We peeked in the windows. I would gladly sign up and watch the light for them!
There was a nice walking path around the penninsula where the light house was situated. We walked awhile admiring God's creation. Even the trees that are dead seem to be full of life.
We came upon this really huge dog track...or was it a wolf...or a bear? It was really big. I was really scared...not really.
We walked the beach back to the lighthouse for what seemed like miles...Especially when you are wearing really big boots.
This concluded our little tour of Mission Point. From here, we went and had an early dinner so we could get back to Cadillac before the Blizzard hit. Yep, go figure, they were under winter storm and blizzard warnings on Tuesday night, you know, the night before we were supposed to leave? Somewhere in the middle of the night, we were hit with about 6 inches of snow and huge winds. The truck was completely frozen shut when Steven went out to start it in the morning. He reefed on it so hard he ended up breaking the handle. We left Cadillac at about 9:30 Wednesday morning and white-knuckled it pretty much to Gladwin, where the roads cleared right up and were perfect the rest of the way home.
We were a little disappointed that the weather was not cooperating with us, but decided to make the best of our alone time together. We went to a movie in downtown Cadillac on Monday night. If you get a chance, you'll have to ask Steven what he feels are the 3 most important lessons he has learned about life.
Tuesday we decided to drive to Traverse City for the day. I believe it was actually in the 40's this day. Again, it was pouring later in the evening. Fortunately, the rain held off for most of the afternoon. Once we got to Traverse, we drove around and took in some of the sights. We were pretty surprised to see that Lake Michigan was not froze over.
The Big Lake was spectacular on this day. I can't get enough of Lake Michigan. The sounds of the waves crashing in were mezmerizing.
The Big Lake was spectacular on this day. I can't get enough of Lake Michigan. The sounds of the waves crashing in were mezmerizing.
We drove to the Mission Point Lighthouse. I love lighthouses. I am slowly starting to collect pictures of the various lighthouses I've seen over the years. I love the history behind them.
This one has been restored and is very nice on the inside. We peeked in the windows. I would gladly sign up and watch the light for them!
There was a nice walking path around the penninsula where the light house was situated. We walked awhile admiring God's creation. Even the trees that are dead seem to be full of life.
We came upon this really huge dog track...or was it a wolf...or a bear? It was really big. I was really scared...not really. 
We walked the beach back to the lighthouse for what seemed like miles...Especially when you are wearing really big boots.
This concluded our little tour of Mission Point. From here, we went and had an early dinner so we could get back to Cadillac before the Blizzard hit. Yep, go figure, they were under winter storm and blizzard warnings on Tuesday night, you know, the night before we were supposed to leave? Somewhere in the middle of the night, we were hit with about 6 inches of snow and huge winds. The truck was completely frozen shut when Steven went out to start it in the morning. He reefed on it so hard he ended up breaking the handle. We left Cadillac at about 9:30 Wednesday morning and white-knuckled it pretty much to Gladwin, where the roads cleared right up and were perfect the rest of the way home.We ended up having a great time together even though the trip wasn't exactly as planned. It was very nice to be able to have some down time and some alone time. That sure doesn't happen enough. I am thankful that God has brought such a great man into my life.
Saturday, February 2, 2008
Happy 10th Birthday!
This is a little bit late in coming. I had intended on posting on Big Brother's birthday, but Steve and I actually had the opportunity to sneak away for a couple of days. We used the gift certificate that my in-laws bought us for Christmas. We ended up going to Cadillac Monday through Wednesday. I will post more on that later. Today I wanted to focus on my first-born and honor him on his birthday, even though it is a little late. Please forgive the first few pictures. Iwas having a hard time with the scanning and formatting. They are a little on the small side, too.
This is our son on his Birthday. I can still remember the very first time I looked at him and how he caputred my heart instantly. I was afraid to hold him because I had a c-section. the doctors had my spinal too high and I couldn't feel my hands. I didn't know if I had a grip on him or not! I remember the look on Steven's face when he held him for the first time. He was and still is a very proud daddy.
Here he is when he was just a little tyke! He was a very good baby...especially after he hit the 3 month mark. He had a little problem with colic. He was the type of baby you could take anywhere...
This is our son on his Birthday. I can still remember the very first time I looked at him and how he caputred my heart instantly. I was afraid to hold him because I had a c-section. the doctors had my spinal too high and I couldn't feel my hands. I didn't know if I had a grip on him or not! I remember the look on Steven's face when he held him for the first time. He was and still is a very proud daddy.
Here he is when he was just a little tyke! He was a very good baby...especially after he hit the 3 month mark. He had a little problem with colic. He was the type of baby you could take anywhere...
He loved to wear this hat. He actually didn't mind sunglasses either...
He was and continues to be a smiley guy. He is a people person. You don't see him down very often.
We had the opportunity to fly to Colorado a few years back. As you can see, he still likes the sunglasses!
This is the serious, more determined side of Big Brother...
...And his wild and crazy side...
This year he opted for a birthday pie...Happy Birthday to you Big Brother!
He was and continues to be a smiley guy. He is a people person. You don't see him down very often.
We had the opportunity to fly to Colorado a few years back. As you can see, he still likes the sunglasses!
This is the serious, more determined side of Big Brother...
...And his wild and crazy side...
This year he opted for a birthday pie...Happy Birthday to you Big Brother! We are so proud of him and the young man he has become. When he was 5 he accepted the Lord as his Saviour. I can remember that birthday just as clearly as I rember the day of his physical birth. He has a passion for the Lord and His word. In May of 2007 we were able to watch him make his public profession of faith in the ritual of Baptism. It is our prayer that he would be blessed in 2008 and that he would continue to grow in the Lord. I am so blessed to be his mother.
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