Another baby story…..27 years and counting.

When I began this blog thing, I began on February 12, 2017. The 19th birthday of my youngest child, Amy. Read Here.

Considering I have four children, I have four very different birth stories. And so today, on Matthews 27 birthday, I decided it would be a perfect day to tell another story.

First, I need to set the scene. Hopefully, I’ll find a picture to verify my story but in case I don’t, here goes. I looked as if I’d swallowed a giant watermelon and it sat sideways in my belly. I was huge. So big I could literally sit a plate flat and belly and eat from it. It wasn’t just my belly that was getting huge. About two weeks before Matthew was born, I was retaining fluid in my legs and feet. Most of the fluid was being held in small pockets on my legs. When walking these pockets of water began to rub together, creating tender skin and difficulties walking.

Matthew was due on October 2, 1991. On Friday, September 27, I trudged my way into the Doctors office. Dr. Ellis, concerned about the amount of fluid I was retaining, told me that he would induce me on Monday, September 30, unless I had the baby over the weekend.

The weekend drug on and on, I could barely walk due to the amount of fluid. I was sick and tired of sitting. I was utterly frustrated. On Sunday, I’d had enough. I decided I had to get out and walk. Every step was a struggle but I managed to make several laps around the outside of the house. It felt good just to be outside and not cooped up.

Later in the evening, I decided a bath would be relaxing. I convinced my sister to help me shave my legs because I couldn’t reach over the giant watermelon in front of me. Finally, I felt relaxed. As I was getting out of the tub, my water broke. Until that time, I hadn’t had one contraction. (This was very different that with Ryan).

We scurried about to get on our way to the hospital. We had a 30 minute drive from Columbus to Hendersonville. By the time we arrived, around 11:00 pm, my contractions were regular and coming about every 3 minutes. Baby was definitely on the way.

A little after midnight, September 30, Matthew was born, weighing in at 8lbs 11 oz and 21 1/2″ long. His head circumference was over 14 1/2″. He was my biggest baby. As soon as he came out, water gushed like a flood. Dr. Ellis said he’d never seen so much fluid come out behind a baby. He told us there was at least a gallon, maybe more. Needless to say, my watermelon sized belly was now almost completely flat and poor Dr. Ellis was soaked.

When I think about Matthew’s entrance into the world, It seems like only yesterday. Yet, when I look at my big man boy, and realize the years gone by, I am reminded that his life completely changed my heart forever. God knew exactly what He was doing when He gave me this child. He knew this child would stretch me and grow me in more ways that one. Determined. Strong-willed. A deep thinker. Adventurous. Generous and kind hearted, always putting the needs of others ahead of his own. He truly is one special and unique individual. True to the meaning of this name, a unique and special “gift from God”.

Pure Joy

I found this picture and shared it a few years ago! I call it, “Pure Joy”. In fact, I can’t think of one thing that has ever given Popaw( and Mawmaw) more joy than family, especially the grand and great grandchildren.

There’s a story behind this picture.

At first glance it just appears Popaw and Matthew had been playing on the floor. Actually, that was not the case! In fact, for several days, Matthew had been so sick he could barely hold up his head. I’ve never seen a child hurl (puke) as much as he did. We were fortunate to keep liquids in him for more than 10 minutes. He was pitifully sick.

The boys and I had gone to stay the weekend with Mawmaw and Popaw. Snow was in the forecast but it was March. Besides, if you’ve lived in our neck of the woods, the mountains can breakup or dissuade any would be snow storms. However, it just so happened that is was the Blizzard of ’93! Accurately dubbed the ’93 Superstorm . Here

During the wee hours of the morning, Saturday March 13, I was awakened by a cough, then a gagging noise followed by the sound of rushing liquid pouring from Matthew’s mouth. The bed covered in vomit and him sitting in the middle of it all, crying. Mawmaw heard the commotion and came to help. We got Matthew cleaned up and sheets off the bed and just as things settled, Matthew got sick again, Fortunately, we kept it off his clothes. Unfortunately, he just kept throwing up. I knew the best thing to do was keep him from getting dehydrated. This became quite the chore because with every sip of water or chunk of ice, within minutes the volcano erupted again, and again, and again. We managed.

The snow came with a fury. Heaven had multiple dump trucks filled with the white stuff. Matthew continued to hurl. Fortunately, more time elapsed between episodes and water and ice became our friends. Then it happened, within 36 hours of Matthew being sick, Ryan started. His sickness didn’t have the vengeance of Matthew’s. Now, we had two puny little boys and a pile of snow so deep, we couldn’t dig out if we tried. We were stuck. Inside and out.

As if we, Mawmaw, Popaw and myself, weren’t tired enough from taking care of the boys, the unthinkable happened. They got sick, at the same time. I think they took turns back and forth to the bathroom, where they spent the better part of a day. The good news is the virus only lasted for about 24 hours for them. Ryan was recovering well. Matthew still had lingering effects but mostly better. That’s when picture was taken, Popaw was feeling better and so thrilled to see Matthew feeling better that he got down on the floor with him. Played with him and then grabbed him and hugged him.

As it turned out, we ended up staying with Mawmaw and Popaw for about 10 days. Not only were we waiting for the snow to clear, I got sick too.

Honestly, when I look at this picture and remember our time with them, there’s no place I’d rather have been during that time. More than that, for Mawmaw and Popaw, they loved having us there. Mawmaw always felt very useful when she was administering care and Popaw just loved having us around. There was always an inexplicable joy that came from being with them. And there was always “pure joy” whenever there was a child in their arms.

Change

Change is hard. It’s much harder if you’re a control freak, like me. It just doesn’t bode well for us Type A personalities, does it? Change eliminates our ability to control. It forces us into different patterns, new routines, new ways of thinking, even new ways of doing. It forces us out of our element and into the unknown.

As I think back over the past few years, I realize change has been a way of life for me. I barely had the chance to deal with, or not deal with one thing before another thing happened. Hard is an understatement It’s been almost unbearable at times. Those who’ve known me best and loved me most have the seen the struggles, the heartaches,the disappointments and even the times of loneliness and sadness.

I will admit I have been very selective in allowing some close enough to witness the dark cloud of pain my heart has endured. Selective because I have to protect myself. Selective because there was so much grieving my heart had to overcome. My heart needed time and space to heal. I needed time for God to remove the dark cloud of grief and restore my joy.

Here’s what I’ve learned during this time of restoration and healing. God will heal the the broken-hearted.(Psalm 147:3) He will restore joy to one’s heart.(Psalm 23:3) He will bring peace, even in the midst of great disappointment. (John 16:33 , Eph 2:14) It will not happen all at once. It normally is not a quick fix. It will get really ugly before it gets better because that’s where the real healing begins. It is within the crevices of our heart where deep pain and sorrow tend to dwell and need to be laid bare and open before healing can begin. That’s why it’s ugly.

Think of it like this: when Ryan was three he had an accident on the playground at preschool. He burst his chin wide open, stitches were necessary. I watched carefully as the ER doctor first of all cleaned the exterior of the wound. Then he carefully pried open the wound to see how deep it was and cleaned it out more. In doing so, the wound was deeper and required more stitches than initially thought. It also hurt Ryan more when he pried it open. The same with us. We can clean the surface of our hearts for a brief period of time but we’re only bandaid fixing the problem. It’s when we allow God to penetrate through the top layer and get to the real wound that true healing can begin.

The scar he has on his chin is barely noticeable. I don’t even know if he remembers the fall (probably does). The scar will always serve as a reminder of the accident, but it no longer hurts or causes pain because it has been fully healed. And so it is with us, in the fullness of time He makes all things, even the messy, beautiful in His time. (Ecclesiastes 3:11)

Taste and See: A lesson from The Tom and Debbie Portion

As a young child, I had (still have) these incredibly awesome people in my life, Uncle Tom and Aunt Debbie.

I was the flower girl in their wedding. Funny story for another time, I threw the flower petals after the ceremony not as the bride was coming down the aisle.

After they were married, they lived in Tennessee, while the rest of the family lived in the Brevard/Rosman area. So, they always made an effort to ensure they bonded with all of us. They did this by taking us home with them for a week every summer. In fact, for most of us (cousins) spending time with Uncle Tom and Aunt Debbie, was a highlight of our summer.

Anyway, I clearly remember the first time Kristi and I went for a week. We sat down to the table to eat. Food was plentiful. However, Kristi and I didn’t like everything set before us and turned our noses at a few items. That’s when it happened. Aunt Debbie announced the following, “When you are visiting us, our rule is that you take a small portion of any food placed before you and try it. It’s called the Tom and Debbie portion.”

Guess what happened? I learned to like some food I’d never tasted or tried before. (Maybe that’s why I like food so much now). I also learned there were foods I just couldn’t stomach. Sometimes I could tell after the first bite if I liked it or not and sometimes it took the whole portion before I decided. In fact, there were times I may have to try it again and again before I could make a call.

As I’ve pondered this experience, I’ve come to the conclusion that God issues the same invitation to us. He invites us to try him. In fact the scripture says, “Taste and see that the Lord is good; blessed is the one who takes refuge in him” Psalm 34:8

Isn’t it interesting that David issues this invitation to us? Just like the Tom and Debbie portion invited us to taste a little of everything. You may not like what you taste and the great thing about God is that He will never force his way in. He will wait patiently and you may have to taste more than one bite to determine if it’s good. In fact, you may have to try Him again and again and again before you see how sweet and pleasing and good He is.