tea, time, and wonder

Welcome Emmeline Carrie Baker!

2010-06-18T10:30:00.000-07:00

When we got pregnant, our plan was to deliver at the Women's Birth and Wellness Center in Chapel Hill, trying for an all natural, low intervention delivery. Well, that's not what God or our baby had planned. Here's the story...

At 41 weeks, which is a week overdue, I went in to the Birth Center for a check, then went home and contracted all night long every 3 mins or so, until about 8am. Then, nothing. No contractions, no nothing. Dang. Having already scheduled a massage for that afternoon at 1:00, I went on over there, and just before the massage started, on my final trip to the restroom, my water broke right there in the toilet. Thankfully it wasn't all over the massage therapists table or floor or couch...or me for that matter. Unfortunately, the fluid wasn't clear but was lightly tinged with meconium, or baby's first poop, which isn't surprising in an overdue baby. It still adds a whole new dimension to the delivery, however, putting you at a little higher risk for infection and the baby at a low risk for respiratory problems after delivery. So I called the midwife to let her know and continued on with my massage.

That night I started contracting again, about every 2-4 minutes, and was getting excited. This could be it! But then by 6am, nothing. One of the midwives came over that morning to check me, and would you believe I was still only 1cm dilated. My heart just about broke. She gave me 3 options: do nothing and wait, try castor oil to see if it would induce labor, or go to UNC for pitocin to induce labor. None of those sounded awesome, but I opted for castor oil as I wasn't quite ready to head to the hospital.

Now castor oil isn't the most pleasant stuff to take, even when mixed with ice cream and root beer, but I managed to get it down spoonful by spoonful. It did start some contractions, but they weren't strong, so at 1:00 on Friday, a full 24 hours after my water broke, I called the midwife again and she said come in to the birth center for some more castor oil and some herbs that can also jump start labor. By 2:00 we were there and contractions were kicking. So were my bowels after so much castor oil, and let me tell you, diarrhea and contractions do not really make for a fun afternoon.

So we went along, contracting every 2-3 for a good 6 hours, and when Jewell, the midwife, checked me at 8:00 Friday night, I was so hopeful for at least a few more centimeters. But alas, I was still only 1. That was awful news. So disheartening. However, it made my next decision very easy. We were headed to UNC for pitocin and an epidural. I was done with this prodromal labor and wanted to kick it into high gear quick as my water had been broken for so long.

We arrived at UNC, also known as "work" for me, and were greeted by my coworkers and friends with smiles and looks of pity as I was hurting so badly with each contraction. My dear friend Lisa was my nurse and she got me set up pretty quickly with an epidural and some time to rest. She made sure I acted like a patient and not a nurse, and thankfully I trusted her to take care of the both of us. The baby's baseline heart rate, which was usually in the 140s, had increased into the 160s, which is a pretty sure sign of impending infection. Not reassuring. Then the baby's heart rate started into a pattern we call "repetitive lates", which means after each contraction, her heart rate would drop some--also not reassuring. The decision was made then to do a c-section.

So that's what we did. Two doctors that I really admire, respect, and call friends did the surgery (thanks Kate and Ashley), and my nurse friends Lisa G and Vite were there to take care of me, Chris, and baby. My anesthesia doctor was Melissa, who was incredible as well. Chris was with me, and so was Jewell, and they kept me reassured through the whole thing. Though a c-section was about as far from my birth plan as you can imagine, it was what needed to happen to keep baby B safe.

One of the greatest blessings we received during this whole process was from my friend Annemie. She's a nurse I work with as well as a budding photographer on the side. She came in to the hospital at 2am to document the whole birth of our baby, something I cannot ever pay her enough for. Here's the pictures of the birth of our baby. I still cry when I watch it. Thank you Annemie for such a gift.

http://www.onetruemedia.com/shared?p=b232b84c6a3b78c03e998c&skin_id=601&utm_source=otm&utm_medium=text_url

When they finally pulled little baby B out, they held her up for Chris to see and announce if "it" was a boy or girl. When he said girl, I burst into tears. Our daughter was here. She was immediately handed off to the NICU team to get her going and breathing good, and when we finally heard her cry, well, that was the best sound I think I've ever heard.

Finally in recovery I got to hold my baby girl, Emmeline Carrie Baker. She was so small, yet so alert and beautiful--so full of promise and we were so full of love for her. I never knew I could love something some much so quickly, and Chris and I only dated for 9 weeks before getting engaged! This was our baby, something we'd prayed for and hoped for since getting married. Now she was here.

Several days later, we came home--Chris, tired from long days and nights on the pull out couch at the hospital and having mastered diaper changes, and me, sore everywhere and exhausted and trying to recover from surgery while learning to be a mom. However, I think we've transitioned well. Emmeline is sweet and fairly predictable and just so darn cute. She sleeps well when she sleeps, eats like a champ, and loves to be near us. We can't wait to see the little person she becomes in the future, but right now, we're enjoying just being new parents with a precious baby girl.

lab results

2010-05-31T05:40:00.001-07:00

Labs are in from my 24hr urine and it came back "protein too low to calculate". That's good! Pair that with my negative blood work, and at this point I'm OK. So they're calling it migraine, which I'll take any day over pre-ecclampsia, but still, ugh!

My headache is still there but more annoying than really painful, and its managed at this point with a pain med called Fioricet. Hopefully that'll hold me over until this baby arrives and I can go back to my normal "drug cocktail" for migraines.

Thank you to all who prayed and for all the encouraging words the last few days. Its amazing how being "sick" can make you feel so loved and cared for. Chris and I and baby B really really appreciate it.

We'll keep ya'll posted on the blog and facebook/twitter as to what is happening. For now, Chris and I are headed to Guglhupf for breakfast. After a few days laying around, I can't wait to get outside!

quick, and much needed, update

2010-05-29T19:00:00.001-07:00

Wow, its been a week. Actually, its been about 8 weeks since I last posted, which is TERRIBLE, but I just haven't felt like writing much. I guess I figured little updates here and there on facebook are enough, but after the past few days, I think a real good one is in order. So here's the latest.

We are 39 weeks and almost 4 days pregnant. I can't believe its drawing to a close, even though these days are creeping by!

As many of you know, our baby turned to breech (head up and feet down) in the 37th week, and so we opted for an External Cephalic Version, where a doctor manually turns the baby by pushing on mommy's tummy really hard. They don't always work, but this one did, and so far Baby Baker has cooperated and stayed head down. Go baby!

Things looked great for a few weeks, and then week 39 happened. Oh mercy.

Where to start? Throughout this pregnancy, I've had "borderline" blood pressures in clinic, meaning they've been higher than normal but not considered severe, like 120s-130s over 70s-80s. I take my blood pressure (BP) at home and its normal. So it seems I suffer from "white coat syndrome", meaning health care providers make me nervous and my BP goes up. The concern with high BP in pregnancy is a condition known as pre-ecclampsia, which is defined as high BP and proteinuria (or protein in your urine). I've been worried about this from the start since my BPs were always borderline, but I had never been severe, they were normal at home, and I never had any other symptoms like headache, stomach pain, or vision changes.

Now, with my job, I see pre-ecclampsia often. The concern with it is that it progresses into Ecclampsia, which is seizures and a medical emergency. We see patients with BPs of 160/110 or higher and lots of protein in their pee. Yikes, that's bad. They are immediately put on magnesium sulfate to try to prevent seizures and lower their BPs, and they are delivered asap. Its not a fun thing to live through since mag sulfate makes patients feel terrible and it makes inducing labor difficult.

So on Tuesday, my pressures in clinic finally hit that severe range (144/99). Not good. I didn't have any other symptoms, so the midwives drew some blood and I had to collect my pee for 24 hours to test it for protein. I also had to check my pressures at home a little more often. The blood tests all came back totally normal, my 24 hour urine protein was within normal limits, and my BPs at home were lower. Yeah! I was OK. Still, the midwives said no more work, so Wednesday was my last day on L&D until maternity leave is over in August.

THEN, I got a headache on Thursday. It started as a dull, achy thing that seemed annoying at most. Tylenol seemed to help some, and since I'm pregnant, that's my only real pain med option that's over the counter. I figured it was related to the stress of the week. But by Friday night, it got bad. So bad that I called the clinic at 3am almost in tears b/c it hurt so bad and I couldn't sleep. Tylenol wasn't touching it, and Benadryl wasn't knocking me out as usual. The midwife, Sarah, suggested a few other pain options that I had here, and I finally slept for a few hours, only to wake up with the same awful pain. It felt like a migraine, and my BPs were pretty normal, but it was still worrisome. Was this pre-ecclampsia rearing its ugly head?

Another midwife (Katie) suggested a "rescue cocktail" of tylenol, sudafed, and coffee, which helped for a few hours, but the pain always returned. I kept thinking, if I go into labor now, I'm screwed b/c I won't be able to handle it with this headache, and I just want to sleep. She prescribed a pain med called Fioricet, but that didn't touch it.

Finally, this afternoon she brought into the clinic for the same blood work and to start another 24 hour urine, as long as my pressures weren't in the severe range, which they weren't. She dipped my urine there at the Birth Center, and it was negative for protein (awesome), but still wanted a 24hour collection again. The baby looked good on the monitor, thankfully, but mommy still had a real bad headache.

I left the Birth Center with a script for Vicodin and Phenergan and orders to sleep. Yes ma'am. Please! I asked a few friends to pray for rest and peace and for normal blood work and normal BPs.

Kate texted me an hour or so ago with my lab results, which were ALL NORMAL! Yeah, thank you Lord. That's great news. I was actually asleep when the text came in, which was also great news. Now we just wait on the 24 urine collection to end and be tested. I'll let ya'll know the results tomorrow night. If they are normal, then we can keep on as usual. If not, I guess we'll have to start talking about other options for delivery. Until then, I'll keep taking the pain meds and continue to pray for healing and a normal end to this pregnancy.

That's the update for now. I'm OK at this point, but have definitely had a pretty hard day. If you are a praying person, please lift us up (Chris too, b/c he has to put up with me being really out of it, and I know he gets worried). I'm trying to really lean on our Lord for strength and know that I can trust Him in this.

On a lighter note, since I've stopped working, I've lost 3 lbs of water weight. My legs have gone way down...I have knees again! Alright!

So now, more Vicodin and more sleeping.

Almost 31 weeks

2010-03-27T14:31:00.000-07:00

In 2 days, I'll have reached 31 weeks pregnant. Oh my how time flies! It seems like just yesterday I was buying pregnancy tests that kept coming up negative even though I KNEW they should be positive. Yes, Chris thought I was having a hysterical pregnancy, but I wasn't...obviously. That was over 6 months ago.

Now its the 3rd trimester, and I'm feeling it. I'm feeling big. I'm feeling curious. I'm feeling freaked out (but just a little and not too often).

Let's start with feeling big. A nurse friend that I work with told me this week that she thought I was growing a big baby. Fabulous. Here I am, all about pursuing a natural, out of hospital birth, and now I have to consider pushing out a mega-baby? Thankfully I passed my glucola test at 28 weeks, so I don't have gestational diabetes, which predisposes you to big babies, but still. My boss made me feel better when she said she thought it was going to be a long baby. I'll take long! Its wide that makes me squeeze my legs together and tremble slightly.

On to feeling curious. Another nurse friend, who had two birth center deliveries, asked how I was feeling about the actual delivery, mentioning that she had felt excited about the first one b/c it was something so new and unknown. I agreed with her, but more than excited, at this point I'm super curious--about everything. How will I handle contraction pain? How bad will it hurt? Will I be a screamer, a moaner, the silent type? Will I shake, puke, poop? Will pushing feel better or worse? Will I go fast or slow? So many questions about the delivery!!!

Then there's the curiosity about the baby. Boy or girl? (yes, we still DON'T know). Lots of hair? What color? What color eyes? I'm guessing yes to lots of hair b/c of the ridiculous amount of heart burn I've been having, and I'm guessing light colored eyes b/c I have green ones and Chris has green/brown ones. Hair color remains a mystery to me. How big will this little one be? How long? How many fingers and toes? Hopefully 10 and 10. Will baby Baker be a good sleeper? A good nurser? An easy or hard baby?

This moves us into curiosity about motherhood. What will I love? What will I fear? What will I hate? Are cloth diapers worth it? Will baby Baker take a bottle when the time is right? Will pumping at work be strange or a nice break? How often will I get peed on/pooped on/spit up on every day? How will my priorities change? How will I lose the weight I've gained? How do I buy groceries? Etc. etc. etc. etc.

And this segues nicely into feeling freaked out, sometimes. If I start to think about how much will change in 2-3 months, it can get overwhelming. Thankfully, I have lots of great friends, family, and resources to find answers to my questions and help with I need it. My sweet husband will dutifully take on diapers and grocery shopping and his turn with the baby so mommy can go on a bike ride, and he'll be great at it all. We both have so much to learn, but we're looking forward to figuring it all out together.

I'm sure there will be lots of prayer, some tears and confusion, and then more prayer. I KNOW there will lots of love and joy amidst sleepless nights and poopie diapers. And thankfully, by August, most of those questions that drive my curiosity will be answered. And hopefully by Christmas, most of the "bigness" that I'm feeling will have melted away after months of breastfeeding and a return to triathlon training that I SO look forward too. (I never thought I'd miss running this much).

So until sometime in late May or early June, I'll keep getting bigger, keep being curious, and will still freak out periodically. And that is OK.

Two New Pics from Chris

2010-03-15T12:18:00.001-07:00

Things I've NOT loved during pregnancy (be sure to read through the end).

2010-03-07T09:09:00.000-08:00

1. Rhinitis of pregnancy (i.e. a stuffy nose almost all the time)
2. morning sickness (99% resolved at this point. Yeah!)
3. Prenatal vitamins
4. Calcium pills.
5. Food aversions for 4 months--salad, vegetables, coffee--but now I LOVE these things.
6. Sleeping on my side.
7. Mood swings.
8. Crying at commercials...and most anything else remotely sentimental.
9. Gagging when I brush my teeth.
10. Exhaustion.
11. Being out of breath from walking up the stairs too fast. Seriously?
12. Feeling like I have no idea how to deal with a newborn.
13. Gaining weight in all the wrong places.
14. Underwire bras.
15. Wearing 20% of my clothes 100% of the time.
16. Not being able to button my coat anymore...its cold ya'll!
17. Hot flashes at night.
18. Waking up before my alarm. That used to never happen.
19. Round ligament pain.
20. Heart burn.
21. Not drinking wine or eating sushi.
22. Not taking Ibuprofen (oddly enough, I kind of miss it. Maybe I have a problem.)
23. Costochondritis (inflamation of the cartilage in my rib cage.)
24. Not being able to "suck in" to squeeze through things or by people.
25. Worrying about what might go wrong and having to shut those thoughts DOWN.

This list is shorter than the thing I've loved during pregnancy, but its still a pretty good size list. Regardless of how long or short it is, I have to say, I really do LOVE being pregnant.

Its a time like no other. I've never felt more loved, more feminine (even though I can barely shave my legs on my own), and more excited about what lies ahead. Despite the aches and pains and emotions and sickness, seeing baby Baker rolling around in my tummy is just incredible and thinking about being a mom and Chris being a dad makes my heart beat faster. Praying that our baby will be blessed by God, will grow up to know and love Him, and trusting Him for this baby's life has deepened my understanding of what it means to be a child of God. The idea of unconditional love becomes more and more real with each passing day.

Things I've loved during pregnancy

2010-03-07T08:49:00.000-08:00

1. People rubbing my tummy.
2. Watching baby Baker turn flips in there.
3. Seeing Chris's face when he first felt baby Baker move.
4. Flintstone's chewables
5. Bella Band
6. Wireless bras
7. Eating organic
8. Tall coffee from Starbucks (I tried doing decaf but kept drifting off)
9. Goddess dressing from Annie's
10. Zofran
11. Bran muffins
12. Fiber One bars
13. "Secrets of a Baby Whisperer" by Tracey Hogg
14. The Birth Center
15. Talking with Chris about names and finally deciding on them...I think.
16. Other people's opinion about whether we're having a girl or boy.
17. Not knowing whether its a girl or boy.
18. Long walks with Katherine and Jena Marie.
19. Getting bigger.
20. So far, no stretch marks. Please Lord...no stretch marks!
21. Praying for our baby.
22. Wondering if he/she will be blond or brunette.
23. Refinishing a crib.
24. New water bottles that I carry everywhere.
25. Wondering how I'll cope with labor and delivery.
26. Talking with my patients about being new parents and about their pregnancy.
27. Seeing our parents get excited about being grandparents.
28. Registering (target/target.com and amazon.com, in case you were wondering).
29. Boppy body pillow.
30. Cutting back on working out. I still do, but not 2-3 hrs a day like before.
31. The prospect of going part time at work after maternity leave.
32. Prenatal massage.
33. Tom's Natural Toothpaste and Deodorant.
34. Indulging food cravings..thankfully they aren't completely unreasonable.
35. babycenter.com
36. Getting over morning sickness.
37. The awesome support of friends, coworkers, and family.
38. Anticipating being a mommy.
39. Maternity jeans...they make such a difference.
40. Tums

Anyone else have things they LOVED during pregnancy?

look at this baby!

2010-02-18T04:18:00.000-08:00

Holy Cow!

I woke up on Saturday and realized for the first time I have to bend over to see my feet. That was an eye opening experience! But baby is growing and moving and doing all the right things so far, so that's good :)

We just got a new camera, so I'll be posting more pictures soon.

Also, wanted to share some of the nicknames this baby has gotten so far. I call him/her "baby Baker". At work, he/she is "Bubba" or "Roo" (I like them both). My mom calls him/her "Baby Boo Boo", especially when she talks to my burgeoning belly. Its hilarious! The nicknames are sweet, and since we are keeping the real names a secret, having something other than "it" is kind of nice.

baby showers

2010-02-01T09:19:00.000-08:00

Along with a baby often comes a baby shower or two. I guess the typical shower includes several things. Let's go through the short but much adhered to list.

First, the food. Usually, at least in my experience, the food tends towards girly finger food like cucumber sandwiches, fruit trays, and something involving chocolate. (By the way, I LOVE cucumber sandwiches like my mom makes with ranch dip...if anyone wants the recipe, please just let me know...they are AMAZING!). The drinks are usually punch, juice, and water, right? Wine seems just cruel to serve at a baby shower since the mother would have to watch longingly as her friend imbibe while she mournfully sips 7-up mixed with cranberry juice. Mmmm.

Next, the games. There's boy/girl games, baby name games, games involving balloons under shirts (like the new mom doesn't feel big already), etc etc etc. They usually sound silly, but sometimes turn out pretty fun.

Finally, gifts for the expectant, and hopefully exceedingly grateful, mom-to-be. This should be her favorite part of the party, unless, or course, her friends have veered away from the registry she worked so hard on and gone their own way. While this sometimes works out, I would say on behalf of all soon to be mothers out there, please just use the registry. We do it for a reason! Still, the gifts are awesome and so desperately needed, especially for a first timer who's husband works at a church.

Now, I say all this because God has been very gracious to us and two separate showers are in the works for Chris, baby Baker, and me. What a blessing!

One of the showers, I'm sure, will look very much like what was described above. Food, games, and gifts. LOVE IT! I know I'll have to probably wear a dress and be cute and pregnant, but sometimes even pregnant women want to get out of their sweats (but not today). My mom's friends are arranging everything, and I think its going to be held at the same place we got married, which is just the coolest idea. I can't even thank these ladies enough for their generosity and hard work. And I can't wait to see what it all culminates into.

The other shower, given by my sweet mother-in-law, will probably look very different. She said that she wanted to do something different and not typical and wondered if I had any ideas. What we've come up with so far is a Friday night "girls night" with dessert and coffee and fun "virgin" drinks where everyone has to dress up like its a night out. I think it'll still be a "shower", so please see our registry at target.com and amazon.com (ha!), but it'll be less fancy and more fancy free. My sweet friend Lisa suggested we then go out afterward and go dancing in Chapel Hill. Yes, I'm going to get out on the dance floor 7 months pregnant...and I'm going to shake it like a polaroid picture. Someone better get a picture.

(If anyone has any fun suggestions about what they've seen at showers, please let me know...always open for suggestions!)

Both showers are such a sweet offer, and both will be so enjoyable despite their differences. Still, the celebration of this new life coming into the world with other women is the heart and soul of both events, and I can't wait!

Some updates

2010-01-26T18:19:00.000-08:00

So updates on things...

1. The bats are gone! Some guys came today and chased them out, then tacked up some mesh so they can't get back in. Yeah!!! No more squeaking, no more screeching, and no more poo.

2. The baby is doing well :) Little Baker certainly is a mover and shaker these days, and growing. My tummy keeps getting bigger and bigger, which is a fun and eye opening experience. Thankfully, Chris still things I look good despite the growth. We're 22 weeks now...only 16-18 to go.

3. My sister is going to be our doula. For those who think doula sounds like some kind of new coffee drink, it is in fact a birth coach. There's lots of reading and training involved, and its something she's wanted to do for awhile, and now she has a great excuse. I'm so excited to have her as part of our delivery, too.

4. The crib I bought several weeks ago is in the process of being refinished, on our front porch. I'm in the middle of sanding the thing down so that I can paint over the old finish. Its going from a light, honey colored to a dark, antiqued brown that should look AWESOME! Once that's done, the big items for the nursery are all taken care of. Cannot wait for the "little" things to fill it up.

5. We've finalized our boy/girl names for baby Baker, but we're not telling! That's Chris's idea, but I'll go with it. He went with us not finding out the sex, so I'll keep the names a secret for him. I will say that the first names both start with the same letter, and the middle names start with the same sound...and the names are pretty long. Poor thing is going to have trouble fitting his/her name in the boxes for standardized testing, just like I did. Katherine Marie Carringer is LONG! Katie Baker is much more manageable. I love the names we've settled on and can't wait to see which one works.

That's all I have time for now...work tomorrow and its getting late. I'll update more soon.

Hope everyone else has great things happening in their lives too!

Our Attic

2010-01-18T06:24:00.000-08:00

When we first moved in our house in May, Chris noticed some "messes" in the attic but didn't think much of it since we didn't live in the attic and wouldn't need it for anything big. Then came the scratching and squeaking, which we tried to ignore, but it got to a point where we had to investigate. What we found was a small family of bats nesting in the corner of our attic, happily oblivious to the fact that they totally grossed us out. Of course, we let our landlord know and he brought us "bomber" to get rid of them, which didn't work at all. They are still up there, living, squeaking, pooping.

After a few more attempts via phone to get our landlord to do something, I gave up. I mean, they are in the attic, not in the living space in our house, and they don't bother us too bad. I guess we can have some sort of symbiosis with these creatures, as long as they stay THERE and not HERE, in my living room.

Then I got pregnant, and we needed some storage space. How about the attic? Oh, but the bats...

THE BATS! I'd kind of forgotten about them, until now. Now we will have a baby in the house. Now we need to put stuff up in the attic. Now I have a compromised immune system and don't want hystoplasmosis. Now I'm wondering if bat poop carries toxoplasmosis (I checked, and don't think so). But STILL!

So I called our landlord last night, asking him to return my call to discuss this ever present though sometimes unnoticed problem of bats in our attic. I'm done with "bombing" them...I want a professional in here to get rid of the bats and clean up after them, safely. If he refuses, then I'll ask to be let out of our lease so we can (gulp) move again. If he refuses again, then I'll threaten court.

Mama Katie isn't messing around any more.

Things you never thought you'd think...during pregnancy.

2010-01-16T08:33:00.001-08:00

Pregnancy makes you a little crazy. At least, its made me crazy. Anyone else? I have these thoughts and internal dialogues that, when I stop to consider them, are truly strange and unique to pregnancy. For example...

1. At Kroger..."is it worse to puke in the baking aisle or in the meat cooler?"

2. At the doctor..."Oh good, there's a heart beat. So I haven't killed this baby yet."

3. Driving..."What if that driver suddenly swerves. Its not just me who's dead on the side of the road."

4. At the gym..."I bet these people are wondering why I look bigger every time I come here. Most everyone else usually start to shrink after several months of exercise."

5. On the couch..."I wonder if its bad to lay with my computer on my tummy. Does it emit dangerous gamma rays that could cause damage?"

6. At work..."Can my patient tell I'm pregnant in these scrubs, or does she think I just had one too many pies over the holidays?"

7. Everywhere..."If I don't eat something soon I'm going to kill someone." Also..."Where is my water. I need it, right now, now, now, now."

8. In Japan..."How do I tell a Japanese doctor that I have a raging yeast infection and am 19 weeks pregnant? Will my dad have to be my interpreter? Oh God, help me, this could be awful."

9. In front of the mirror..."So this is what its like to look like Pamela Anderson, from the neck down and waist up."

10. On Craigslist..."I wonder if anyone is selling breast pumps?"

11. In the bathroom..."Bran muffins are the shizzle."

12. In the kitchen..."What does the baby want for dinner?"

13. All the time..."What I wouldn't do for some wine and sushi." Then I opt for juice and toast. So not the same.

14. In the mornings..."I wonder if I'll ever stop gagging while brushing my teeth. Maybe one day it'll be normal again."

15. On the computer while registering at Target..."Why does baby bedding cost more than all my linens combined? I could buy an incredible bike (used) for that price. Or get that tooth crowned...or pay for this kid's first year at UNC."

There's some of my weird pregnancy thoughts. Feel free to add to the list.

Why nice people make my day

2009-12-01T19:33:00.000-08:00

When you are pregnant and tired and nauseated, patience can run short. I'm not always the most patient, tolerant person anyway, but this new "condition" I find myself in makes things even worse. I'm have a harder time tolerating whining or people being slow and dragging their feet. It grates me even more when someone talks on and on and on about not a whole lot and I have to sit there taking it. I hate it when people make snarky, sarcastic comments that I know are kind of supposed to be funny but have a grain of truth within them. UUHHH! It drives me crazy. I don't like that my patience is so thin, and I don't like that its hard to be pleasant sometimes.

But I've found some brightness is my sea of impatience--a remedy to a shorter fuse.

Nice people.

Its amazing how freaking nice some people are. They are WAY nicer than me. Running into other people's niceness definitely makes me want to do better, be sweeter, and give more. It picks me up when I'm feeling grouchy. It makes me want to hug someone.

Let me recount some of the especially nice experiences that have happened recently.

1. Candace, my nurse friend at work, stood in for me during an epidural one morning at 5am after a long night shift, which means she did all the hard work while I just sat down. Thank you Candace!

2. My old friend Megan saw me in Target and immediately said congratulations on the baby and "I hope you feel better soon". She knew I was pregnant and sick b/c she saw it on facebook and remembered. So thoughtful!

3. While I was sick the last few weeks, scores of people texted me or facebooked me or messaged me with get well wishes. When you've laid in the same spot all day for 5 days, unable to breath out of both nostrils simultaneously and totally depressed after watching 2 seasons of Law and Order: Criminal Intent, those notes mean a lot.

4. My husband told me to get a massage. That's awesome. I'm going tomorrow morning. The anticipation alone relaxes me.

5. Sweet Lisa called me tonight, just to talk, on our way home from work. I love that.

6. My mom is giving me her rocking chair when the baby comes. It was the same one she used when I was born.

7. My former maternity clinical instructor hugged me today with such excitement when she saw my burgeoning belly. She's a midwife. She likes bellies.

8. A friend, who tends to be fairly private and guarded, opened up to me about some hard stuff she's going through. That's the kind of talking I like to listen to.

9. A coworker is bringing me prenatal yoga DVDs.

10. A friend from church gave me a huge bag full of maternity clothes. Yeah!!! Now I just have to grow into them.

11. My patient last week loved my haircut. Sometimes that's what a girl needs to hear.

12. Even though I'm getting bigger (and badder), Chris still thinks I'm pretty and tells me so very often.

13. My dad told me he's proud of me. It about made me cry.

Those are just the cake toppers to a laundry list of niceness oozing around me, and hopefully rubbing off. I need help, and I'm so thankful for friends who are more sweet and more patient than I am. Hopefully, one day, when I'm less hormonal and less exhausted, I'll be able to get back to my old self. Maybe it'll be second trimester? I sure hope so, as does everyone else around me too! I'll keep ya'll posted :)

What's happening during my 1st trimester

2009-11-09T15:30:00.000-08:00

With only a few weeks left until I get to my 2nd trimester, I thought I'd give a quick recap of the last 11 weeks.

We'll start with physical changes. Where to begin...let's see.

Well, my waist has definitely expanded, which I knew would happened but am a little bummed it happened so quickly. It might because I had to eat pretty much all day to keep from puking for a few weeks. And a few times I ate an entire thing of hummus in one sitting, sometimes with my finger or a spoon when I ran out of crackers. It was just so good. As I ate it, I kept thinking of my friend Laurie once saying, "I could like, bathe in hummus." She was pregnant when she said that. Now I totally get what she meant.

My chest has dramatically increased, which I think explains the ever increasing numbers on the scale. My bras hardly fit and I keep "bumping" things accidentally with these things. A girl at work commented, "You will have to get used to your new body habitus," which means get used to growing because it won't stop for awhile. She said that after I totally boobed her in the locker room. We both had a good laugh over it. I'm hoping that my changing chest size will help off-set my growing waistline and booty.

I haven't gotten acne too bad, which some women complain about, but that's never been a big issue, even in high school. Thankfully something is staying the same.

My energy is starting to return, and even as I lay here with a terrible cold, I think I might have more energy this week that I did last week. Its been tough to feel so exhausted all the time, but supposedly that changes with the 2nd trimester.

Finally, the nausea is also starting to wain and my appetite is returning. Salad and cereal are finally sounding delicious instead of repulsive. Now, a few things sound good when I'm hungry, not just one thing. I still crave orange juice, and in fact, I'm waiting for Chris to get home from the store so I can have a glass. Man, that sounds so good.

Emotionally, I'm much more sensitive than before, if you can believe it. While I've also been pretty quick to cry, its about 10X what it used to me. Since being sick the past few days, I've had some time to catch up on upcoming movies on iMovie Trailers, and only cried at like, half of them. I cried during a movie trailor! Good grief. I can barely tell stories from work b/c they bring me to tears. My friend Jena Marie asked me why we weren't finding out the sex of our baby, and I cried recounting the moments when my patients who didn't know had their baby and discovered who and what it was. By the way, that's why we aren't finding out--b/c those are the best moments of my job, hands down. I want that. I cry thinking about our baby--who he or she will be, what they will love, how they will laugh...how Chris will be a wonderful father and teach our little one so much of living and loving and laughing, and shooting guns. Even now I'm tearing up. So we'll move along...

Spiritually, I'm learning more and more of being in God's presence and of prayer for life and endurance and for this new thing springing up within me. Never before have I been so afraid and curious and excited. When I'm afraid, He is faithful to remind me that He is good and near and knows. Though I'm not Catholic, I'm finding a weird peace in thinking of Mary, as she did this. She got bigger and felt tired and probably had weird food cravings, and possibly found satisfaction in hummus as well. Thankfully I don't have to ride a donkey during my 3rd trimester or give birth in a barn. I'm finding a new appreciation for the other mothers in scripture--I get their longing for a baby and also their excitement. I get why they dedicated their children to the service of God. I hope and pray our child will be as Hannah's little Samuel who heard God's voice and served Him faithfully. I'm knowing more of God's goodness in how my sweet husband has supported me and loved me despite my exhaustion and queasiness. He is so patient and kind and gracious and an example of God's grace to me.

So that's that for now. Things are moving along as they should. Our parents are asking about names and colors and showers, which is so fun. And honestly, that's what this should be. It should be fun. Its emotional and difficult and amazing--and fun.

So I peed on a stick and...

2009-10-26T17:24:00.001-07:00

Yes, its official...we're having a baby! My eggo is preggo. There's a bun in the oven. A pea in the pod. I'm 100% knocked up.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Let me tell you the whole story, for those who are interested.

Many of you know that I've had baby fever for almost a year now, which was the answer to many of my sweet husband's prayers as I wasn't so gung ho to have kids when we got married. The Lord definitely changed my heart, pretty rapidly, and gave me an intense desire to procreate.

Due to my contract at UNC, we wanted to "schedule" a baby around the time that contract was drawing to an end to allow some flexibility with work as a new mom. With my contract set to end in Sept of 2010, we figured on 3 months or so of trying, which meant getting pregnant in November or December and delivering in Aug or September next year. It was all planned so perfectly.

Little did we know that it would take far less than 3 months to get pregnant. In fact, by all calculations, it took about 3 weeks. Fertile Myrtle over here.

I knew pretty much right away that I was pregnant. I could just tell. I felt weird. By weird, I mean...well, weird. Chris thought I was just having hysterical pregnancy symptoms because I wanted a baby so bad, and we'd been watching Glee and that's what happened to Mrs. Schuster, but I kept saying, "I'm not like that crazy mean lady. I really think I'm pregnant!"

Man I love when I'm right.

So for a week, I peed on a stick every day, watching and waiting for that line to show up. For a few days, it remained blank or showed up as "not pregnant". Ugh! It was awful.

Then one day, a FAINT line appeared...I mean, I could just barely see it. But there was something. Chris didn't get excited yet. He wasn't convinced. I decided to try again in three days, but couldn't bear the suspense so I did a test every day up to day 3, when a pretty good solid line finally appeared to announce, PREGNANT! He finally believed me :) I wasn't hysterical!

That was 7 weeks ago, and now I'm 9 weeks along with a confirmed heartbeat by ultrasound. Everything looks good so far.

Unfortunately, I'm in the throws of early pregnancy and when I say throws, I mean throws. Nausea like I didn't know was possible, complete exhaustion to the point of pulling over and sleeping in my car, and a changing body that's freaking me out. So far, God is good and I haven't puked in public, which is one of my biggest fears. I have, however, fallen behind in housework, so pray for Chris as he has to pick up my slack and deal with me moping around feeling gross all the time.

I keep hearing it gets better, and today was a small glimpse into that as I felt OK for a few hours and actually got excited about food. Yeah! So we're 9 weeks down, hopefully about 30 to go.

For you praying people out there, we would love if you could pray for a happy, healthy little one and some wisdom for two very inexperienced parents. Thankfully we had great examples growing up and lots of friends to offer advice and hopefully some babysitting as well.

Finally, for those of you who were wondering, our plan so far is to not find out the sex, not tell the final name decisions, and have a natural labor and delivery at UNC, where I work.

So that's that. We're very excited about this new chapter in our lives and very thankful for what's to come.

And then a giant katydid landed on my face...

2009-10-13T08:56:00.000-07:00

Oh the joys of camping. The friends, the fire, the food, the foliage...and the bugs.

This past weekend, we packed up 2 cars with 3 tents, 6 chairs, and 1 baby and headed out to Hanging Rock State Park for an overnighter in the woods. "We" were the Bakers, the Dagleys, and the Sius...they had the baby.

Our campsite was so pretty, and our venture up to Hanging Rock was spectacular. The leaves were changing and bright. The hike wasn't too crowded, and the view from the top--there weren't words. Storms were supposed to be rolling in, and the sky was a mixture of dark clouds and shimmering sun rays stealing through. Seriously beautiful stuff.

We got back to camp, and Ed started up the fire. He had that sucker blazing within minutes and we lazed around eating hobo packets and roasting marshmallows for smores. Katherine had the great idea of sticking pieces of chocolate in the melted marshmallows once it was on the cracker so it melted too. Oh buddy that was good.

Things were going well up to that point. The rain hadn't started falling, Caleb wasn't crying (he's the baby), and we were all loving camping. Then I noticed a little tap on my leg and saw a huge katydid just hanging out on my pants. When I say huge, I mean several inches long and fat and green--like a giant leaf with legs that flies erratically, and apparently liked my pants. I swiped it off gently, laughing at my new "friend". Then it came back, right back on my leg. Now, it was dark, and the only light we had was from the fire and our head lamps. However, when I felt that tap again, I knew that big old katydid. Just like before, I knocked him off, this time a little aggravated. Stupid bug, stay off my pants.

Not 2 minutes later did that giant bug return. This time, however, he didn't stake out ground on my pants. Instead, that sucker landed right on my face, just by my mouth. Holy crapoly. I could feel its feet gripping onto my skin. I could hear its big green leafy wings vibrating as it landed. Had I stuck out my tongue, I could have tasted it. Thankfully sticking out my tongue is not my general reaction to a huge bug on my face. No, my reaction is to emit a small shriek and do whatever it takes to get the bug off my face and on to somewhere else.

And that's what happened.

Oddly enough, the "somewhere else" was my pants, again. What in the world was happening? Why did this bug love me so?

I had just about had it with the bugs. No more laughing. No more gentle swipes off myself. No more Mrs. Nice-to-the-bugs-lady. Instead of flicking the thing off, this time I was much more diabolical.

I grabbed the bug by its tail and threw it, forcefully, into the blazing fire. And I watched it burn.

Then out of the corner of my eye, I spotted another one, making its way to my pants, or possibly my face, so I preemptively struck, grabbing its tail and slamming it into the fire as well.

By the end of the night, 4 katydids met their fate in the fire at our campsite. Not one more landed on me.

I thought I was in the clear.

But alas, this is not the end of my camping saga.

In the middle of the night, safe and snug in my tent with Chris by my side, I felt something on my leg. Katydid? Could there be a 5th one that made it into my tent? I grabbed whatever it was a flung it towards the door of our tent, that was solidly zipped shut, but there was no way I was holding on to that thing. Quickly finding a headlamp, I searched the area and found the culprit. Not a katydid this time. Possibly even more gross and definitely bigger. There, crawling around in our tent, was a giant centipede, probably 3 inches long. That is what was on my leg. That is what I flung at the tent door. That is what I ultimately threw with all my strength out the tent door and into the great wide open. Eeeeewwwww.

Of course, having woke up in the middle of the night, now I had to pee, and it was raining outside. After much debate, I ran outside quickly and popped a squat in the middle of the woods, praying for no bugs to attack me during this vulnerable time. God heard my prayers, and even stopped the rain.

I snuggled back in the tent with Chris, but only before thoroughly searching the sleeping bag for any new additions. Thankfully we were in the clear, and I slept a little more.

The rest of the trip was fairly uneventful...but I still can't believe a katydid landed on my face.

To The New Dads Out There...

2009-09-26T06:01:00.000-07:00

So fellas, the last blog was for single girls, and this one is for you men who have a little one on the way, or even plan on having one on the way at some point in your lives.

After a conversation I had last night with a couple who are expecting their first any day now, I thought I might need to give the guys some advice about what its like on their end, where to stand, what to say (and not say), what to watch and not watch, etc.

So here are some tips for upcoming fathers during labor and delivery.

1. Do whatever your wife/partner needs. Get her ice. Rub her back, or don't touch her, depending on what she says. She needs you to be available and she needs you to not get your feelings hurt if she tells you to stop talking while she's having a contraction. She means it, but in a good way.

2. Ask questions of your nurse and provider as to how you can help. It makes you feel more involved and it helps us too. We love helpful poppies.

3. Don't let your wife/partner watch any medical shows during her labor, which she might want to do after her epidural. They are OK at home, but watching "Emergency Birth" or "ER" or even "House" is a bad idea in the hospital. Not good for the soul.

4. Don't let the pain your wife is experiencing freak you out. Its awful to watch someone you love hurt so bad, but remember, its normal and natural and YOU CAN'T FIX IT. You can support her and love her and say sweet things, but let me say again, YOU CAN'T FIX IT. Unless she gets an epidural, its going to hurt the whole way through. Just be there, and pray a lot.

5. When mommy finally gets to start pushing, stand up by her head and support it while she pushes. That gives you closeness with her, and if you are squeamish, it'll help block your view of the action taking place a little further down. Sometimes a nurse might ask you to hold a leg, but that definitely gives you more of a front row seat. Its OK to say no or sit down. No passing out please. We already have two patients and definitely don't need a third at that point.

6. The nurse might ask you if you want to see the head as mom is pushing (we can usually start to see the top of the baby's head after a while). You can always decline. Like I said before, no passing out. Often we ask if mommy wants to touch the top of the head when it gets low enough. Don't be weirded out if she does--I mean, like the fact that she's pushing another human being out of her body isn't weird enough.

7. Encourage your girl as she's pushing--use phrases like, "Go Mama go!" or "You're doing it, you're doing it!" or "I can see the head!" help a lot. If mom has an epidural, she's usually be very sweet and responsive. If she's going "all natural" (emphasis on the "al"), she might not be as sweet, so don't say things like, "Enjoy these last moments of pregnancy" or "I'm almost sad its over". Yeah, not helpful. There's nothing enjoyable about that part except that its almost over. That's all she's shooting for at that point.

8. Cut the cord if offered by the provider unless its going to make you puke. Its a cool gesture, and honestly, after what your girl just did, its a fairly easy way to say, "I was with you baby, all the way, and I still am."

9. Unless you are super geeky and into science, don't watch the placenta come out. Its unexpected and weird and kind of gross. You just had a baby--don't let the afterbirth ruin your day.

10. If at any time you need some fresh air, by all means take it. If you need to sit, then sit. If you need some juice or coffee, get yourself some. Your girl is going through one of the hardest and best days of her life. She needs you to be on your game.

11. Try not to be weirded out by everything that happens in and around your girl's va-jay-jay. It means some very different to nurses and docs than it does to you. For us, its where something very important has to come out--totally opposite of your experience. We don't blink an eye about having to feel all around up there. Its an odd thing, I'm sure, to have strangers poking around, but remember, we do this every day to dozens of women we've never met. The only one who might think its weird is you, so get over it and support your girl.

12. When its all said and done, hold your baby and kiss your woman. I think she deserves it!

So there you have it. Now dads, you know what to do and what not to do. So go out there and have some babies!

To my single girls

2009-09-17T10:02:00.000-07:00

Being single has its perks--something you really learn AFTER you are married--but personally, I love being married way more than I liked being single. And while I sometimes remember what it was like to come home after a long day and not have to answer to anyone, I'll take having someone to come home to over an empty house and pint of Ben and Jerry's any day.

Being married means having a partner and a friend all the time, during the big things like moving and jobs and life goals to the mundane things like grocery shopping, cooking, and sleeping. I haven't been lonely since getting married. I haven't gotten bored. I've laughed way more. I've learned to fight better. I've loved someone for who they are and received that same love back. I've seen God's grace played out on a daily basis. Who wouldn't want that?

This is why I pray for my single friends--so they too can know what its like to be loved in a very tangible way, so the longing in their hearts for a mate can be relieved and overwhelmed by love and commitment, so they can come home to someone that is committed to them for life and not just through the end of their lease.

For some girls, they are OK not being married, but for most, this is something they long for deeply. Deeply. Its something they've asked God to take away because it hurts. Its what they are afraid to talk about for fear of crying real hard at Starbucks into their Chai Tea Latte. Its personal, and its painful.

Its hard getting into your late 20s and 30s and not see any prospects. You wonder if there is something wrong with you. You wonder if it will ever happen. You wonder how on earth you will meet anyone who meets your standards, which you know are reasonable and not too high. You want to trust God, but that trust waivers with each wedding you attend and with each friend that calls to say that he finally asked her out.

Dang. When's my turn. Surely I have something to offer, right? I'm kind and gentle and compassionate and passionate...I'd be a good wife, I just know it. We could do great things together and have adventures and raise our kids to love God. Why am I alone at home every weekend, watching Bridget Jones's Diary again?

But I regress...

Having been that girl and now not being that girl, I pray real hard that God will raise up men who will take a chance on my girl friends who aren't just out of college, who are pretty and sweet and independent but not too independent, who have big goals like missions and church planting and hard core ministry in hard core places. These are girls who will sharpen a man and hold him accountable to his responsibilities before the Lord. They are Proverbs 31 women, and they are amazing. They are the girls I look at and wonder, "Why are guys so blind?"

So girls, you are in my prayers, intently and consistently, and until the big prayers for husbands and families are answered, I also pray for courage, peace, and love. And just know that in those moments when you have a hard time trusting God, someone else is trusting Him for you.

Family History

2009-09-15T06:50:00.000-07:00

Ever since visiting my sister a few weeks ago, I've wanted to write a little ditty about our family history b/c its unusual and interesting and it involved one of my favorite things ever--the Appalachian mountains.

I'll start with my mom's side of the family, the Johnston side, b/c that is shorter and sweeter. The Johnston clan originated on the English/Scottish border hundreds of years ago as "Johnstone" and ended up moving to the States during colonization, eventually landing in rural, western Kentucky where my mom was born, 1 of 7 kids, to a farmer and his sweet wife Katie, my grandmother and name sake. They were poor and backwoods--my mom still remembers using an outhouse and chamberpot and getting water from the well. Up until a few years ago, the well and outhouse were still standing at the farm, though unused for years. Grandpa took to storing chicken wire in the outhouse, which I'm sure was not its original purpose. And for those of you wondering, it was only a 1 seater.

My grandparents farmed until they passed away--growing soy beans, corn, tobacco, pigs, and cows. I saw my first birth there (baby pigs), my first death (a deer get shot), caught my first fish, ate my first bite of squirrel and turtle (yes, turtle), learned how to snap peas, can strawberries, make peach preserves, clean a fish and fry it up, and remove ticks. That farm was a haven for learning, and my grandparents and parents were great teachers. What I gathered there didn't necessarily improve my SAT scores, it vastly improved my life, and that matters a little more than stupid SATs.

Now on my dad's side, this is where it gets a little more interesting historically, and its how the Appalachians tie in. My great grandmother was a Cable, and she married a Carringer, which is my maiden name. Now during the Revolutionary war, John Cable arrived to fight the colonist turncoats for the English, though he was German, a Hessian hired to fight by the mother country. John ended up defecting after the war and settling down in the heart of the Appalachians, in what is now east Tennessee. Other families joined around the settlement, and the area became known as Cade's Cove.

For years, Cade's Cove thrived and grew, until the Civil war, when the settlement became suspicious of outsiders, gathered their ranks, and shut off from the rest of the country. There was a little cousin on cousin marriage, I'm sure. These people perfectly fit the "hill billy" mold--poor, uneducated farmers who lived mostly off what the land provided them. My dad still remembers visiting his grandmother, Fanny Cable, up in the holler where her fridge was a cold spring under a rock and she sang "Angel Band" as she cooked in her apron. Fanny had 11 kids, one being my grandpa, at her home there in east Tennessee.

Cade's Cove still exists as a state park, and if you visit there, you can see Cable's Mill, started by John Cable, where my great grandma, Fanny, worked as a young woman. It even has a water wheel.

As a kid, we moved a lot, and no where ever felt like home to me until we landed in North Carolina, where my dad grew up, and especially when I went to school in Asheville. That was my first time really diving in to Appalachian life, with the music and dancing and craft and food. Up there you can still find Carringers and Cables and Crisps, names you don't see too often outside the hills of North Carolina and Tennessee. There, you find people who are country, and sweet, and use muscadines for cider and possum grease for croup. That's where I feel most at home. As much as I love my parents and love being at their house, its the mountains that call my name.

Chris and I talk about moving there one day, somewhere in the Appalachians. We want our kids to play in the woods and have animals and grow a garden. I want those things for me too. I'd like to have a life a little like my great grandmother and my grandparents in Kentucky--a little less money, a little more faith, and a lot more of God's creation around me.

Maybe one day...

All the pregnant ladies...just put your legs up!

2009-09-05T18:36:00.001-07:00

In response to comments about the last blog, I'd like to take a second to talk to the pregnant ladies out there who might be wondering what its like to have a baby, and to answer Lauren's question, what it takes to be a great labor patient both for your sake, and for all you nurses out there too.

If you are having your baby at a hospital, you will find that your labor nurse is one of your best assets to having the delivery you hope to have. Labor nurses are with you through the thick and thin of labor from 3 centimeters to completely effaced to epidurals to pushing. We're there with two gloved fingers and a watchful eye. We take care of you and your baby, and most of us love our jobs and want to make the experience great for you and your growing family.

Still, there are some things that you, the patient, can do to make the relationship between you and your nurse blossom. Here's a list, off the top of my head, of things I love about labor patients, and things that can be difficult to manage.

1. Don't be afraid to ask for things, but try to do it nicely, even if you are in pain. We don't mind answering call bells or getting you some ice, but saying thanks in between contractions is just icing on the cake.

2. We love when husbands/partners/family members help out. Our jobs are hard and busy, so it helps makes things go more smoothly and quickly if family members take initiative and get a cool wash cloth for mommy's forehead. Trust me, we don't mind at all.

3. Try not to throw up on the nurse or your partner. At least aim for the floor, please. Lots of women puke in labor, and if you feel even a little nauseous, please please please ask for a bucket.

4. Don't worry about pooping while you push. We would much rather you push great for 1 hour and take a big 'ole poop then push bad for 3 hours and remain poop free.

5. Tell your nurse if something changes, like you all of a sudden feel pressure or this big urge to push, or if you want pain medicine. We can't read minds, and we want to help you, and we definitely don't want to miss your delivery because you pushed and we weren't there. Its like I tell my hispanic moms, "No empuja sin enfermera. No quiero bebe en la cama or el piso por favor." (Translation "don't push without the nurse. I don't want a baby in the bed or the floor please."

6. Its never too soon for an epidural, but it might slow things down. Epidurals make our jobs as nurses easier, but if you don't want one, we're OK with that. If we think you need one because you are freaking out or it looks like your baby isn't tolerating labor, then we'll tell you.

7. Birth plans are great, but its also great to hold them with open hands b/c labor is rarely predictable, no matter what the experts say.

8. If you are trying to decide to come to the hospital b/c you think you are in labor, try to avoid coming at 7am or 7pm. That's shift change, and its always chaotic. Its for your best interest.

9. Just be sweet to your nurse. We're here to help. We have rules we have to follow, like the number of people in the room at a time and what not. Please obey them. They aren't just arbitrary.

10. Trust your nurse and don't be afraid to try weird stuff we might suggest, like the birth ball or squatting or pushing on hands and knees. We do this all the time. Pushing is our deal, and we're usually pretty good at it.

11. When its all over and you are headed to recovery, saying thanks makes our day.

So there's ten things you can do to enhance the relationship you have with your labor nurse. Cussing doesn't bother us, screaming is OK, moaning rules, and pushing hard is awesome.

On behalf of all labor nurses out there, thanks for letting us share in your birth experience, and don't worry, we forget what it all looks like after the baby is in your arms.

The NIght Shift

2009-09-05T18:00:00.000-07:00

So I haven't written for awhile, and I'm not sure why. The only thing I can reckon is that I've been working nights and life is just weird when you sleep all day and work all night for three days in a row, then try to have a normal life again for the rest of the week.

In light of that, I'd like to take a moment to describe life on nights...the highs, the lows, and the dark.

Let's start with a simple overview of the shift. We generally arrive between 6:45 and 7pm, with coffee in hand, though some prefer Mountain Dew or Coke Zero. I'm a triple shot iced Americano kind of girl, with room please.

We all want to know what the "board" looks like, which translates into, "Will I have just one nice, normal labor patient, or should I pee now because I won't have a chance again until I get home in the morning." We change quickly into green OR scrubs that are required for the unit and line up to get our assignments. The day shift folks are only too happy to hand over their patients. We get report on our assignment (or assignments, if its busy) and get to work.

Whether its labor, pre-ecclampsia, or cesarean, there is an unspoken rule on night shift that you work together and you always always always know that someone else is watching out for you. Its such a relief when a baby crumps on the monitor to turn around and see 2 or 3 other nurses stepping into your room and pulling on gloves to get things right again.

If things aren't too crazy, it can get pretty quiet around 3 or 4 am, and we find ourselves sitting together at one of the nurses stations, wrapped in blankets b/c its cold, drinking something, and chatting away, always eyeballing the monitors to tell us how each baby and mommy is doing.

Around 5am is when things start to get silly. People are tired, but we know that only 2 more hours are left until daylight, and better still, shift change. Someone will make a "that's what she said" joke, or start quoting their favorite movie lines. Another RN will join in with some story about their patient, like how room 2 just pooted on the nurse's hand during a cervical check, or how room 7 spit out a 10 pound baby with 2 pushes. You hear phrases like "vaginal bypass" or "hosed" or "FLK" (which stands for funny looking kid). Almost everyone has a story from their night.

By 6, we're pretty much home free, except for that one lucky nurse who will have a change of shift delivery that leaves her with loads of documentation to catch up on. It happens to everyone, and if the patient is sweet, then we usually don't mind at all. I mean, its another life brought into the world, right? So what if its at 6:58.

The day team starts to arrive at 6:45 or so, looking fresh and clean, compared to us, who are ragged and barely able to formulate a thought. Sometimes I find myself waddling around the unit because I'm too tired to pick my feet up any more than I have to. Usually I have to sit down and really think through all my charting and the work I did to make sure its all been done. It seems easier to forget stuff at 4:45am than at 4:45pm. Why do you think that is???

By 7:15am, I'm usually out the door and heading to my car, the sunshine hurting my eyes that have grown accustomed to the dark halls and rooms on the unit. Now that I park in the same place, I don't have to wander around, trying to remember where my car is, which happened a few of my first nights.

Driving home is always a time for prayer, mostly to stay awake and not kill anyone on the road. I usually call home and talk to my parents because they are interesting, and Chris is still asleep. Once I couldn't get a hold of anyone, so I called my friend Michelle, another nurse who had worked that night and was also driving home. She didn't answer, and I left her this ridiculous message about struggling to stay awake at the wheel and how I hoped she was still awake and not asleep since she didn't answer her phone. She called me back a few minutes later, worried that I'd be dead in a ditch because she didn't answer and I had no one to talk to. I was eating toast at home when she called, so I was ok.

Then I sleep all day, usually with the help of Benadryl or Ambien. Ambiem made me hallucinate once, so its been Benadryl since then, and there are no more can can dancers in my room nor has the laundry started coming to life.

Then I get up. Then I eat, then I go back to the hospital to do it all over again.

So there's the night shift in a nutshell. I wish everyone could experience it at least once. Its a joy and its hard and its fun and its exhausting. But I love it, and I'm glad to be there. The patients are (usually) great, and the staff is even greater. That combination is worth staying up for.

Fiddle faddle

2009-08-04T18:55:00.000-07:00

Within my life, over the past 29, almost 30, years, several questions pop up over and over again. They usually have to do with playing violin, and go a little something like...

"How long have you been playing?"

Or

"Is it hard to learn violin?"

Or

"How long will it take me to learn to play?"

And the grand finale...

"What's the difference between a violin and a fiddle?"

So, in case you were wondering, I'll go ahead and answer those, as well as offer up a little glimpse into my fiddling past.

The story begins with a 5 year old American girl living in Tokyo, a tiny little violin, and this thing called "Suzuki". That's where it all began. Picture it, a toe-headed kid with a mini instrument learning Twinkle Twinkle and Tell Me the Story. Precious.

Back in the states, I started with private lessons at the age of 8 and learned my way through Mozart and Bach and Vivaldi up through book 4 of the Suzuki method (there's 10 books and they get progressively harder and more complicated).

By age 10, we were in North Carolina and I landed in the Meredith College Suzuki program, where I stayed until leaving for college at age 18, having made it through book 8. Books 9 and 10 remain an ocean I will never cross.

During high school, I hated practicing violin, but my dear, wise mother would force and coerce me to play, promising one day I'd thank her. When I got to college, I realized she was right. Dangit.

There I learned to play by ear as I stepped into something completely different than classical Suzuki method violin. Its what we Christians like to call Worship Music. I joined the Cru band and had to play things that actually mattered to me, things I wrote or discovered, things that were fluid and organic instead of rigid and old. The music went beyond the page and beyond honoring some dead guy from the 17th Century to honoring the God I so deeply loved, who was so deeply alive. It was a beautiful thing. Oddly enough, that's when I learned to sing harmony as well, something I could never do before. Maybe I had more reasons to sing at that point.

My junior year of college, I spent a semester abroad in England, 3 miles north of Wales in a city called Chester. My 5th night in the city, I heard traditional Irish music in a traditional Irish pub, and it was love at first sight. I found a fiddle teacher and some free time, and there I learned to fiddle, in about 5 months. We played a few shows, did a little traveling to Ireland to play, and made several pounds, a dollar, a used shot glass, and a few nuts and bolts that I still carry in my case as a little reminder of those lovely days.

When I got back to Asheville for my senior year, fiddling was on my mind. Finally, music that didn't have rules and totally kicked my butt. Its hard and fast and totally freaking awesome. I wanted more.

So I found new friends and started learned Old Time tunes, Appalachian style fiddle. Despite its roots in the Celtic music I'd grown to love, Old Time proved a whole new beast to tackle, and I'm still learning more 8 years later.

Now, I'm in Durham, playing incredible worship music with the most talented group of folks I've ever played with, and sneaking in a little fiddle here and there. Hopefully I can dedicate more time to fiddling at some point in my life, but for now, I love what I play and who I'm playing with, and honestly, who I'm playing for.

That's the story, in a nutshell. Now to answer those popular questions...

I'm play since I was 5, so that's almost 25 years. I think I should be better than I am.

Since I've been playing for so long, its hard to remember "learning" violin, but I'm pretty sure its hard to learn. Learning violin never sounds good. But it pays off eventually.

Its taken my 25 years to learn violin, and I'm still learning. However, to be proficient in violin, I think it'd take about 2-3 years of consistent practice and lessons for an adult. Kids usually take less time, because they are brilliant.

The different between violin and fiddle? For me, its simply style and attitude. Classical violin has a specific tuning (E,A,D,G) and specific rules involving dynamics, rhythm, and tone. Its fairly rigid and absolutely beautiful when played well, especially in a orchestral setting. Fiddles sometimes have a lower bridge, which is the wooden thing that holds the strings off the body of the violin and looks like a bridge, and some fiddlers have alternate tunings (like E,A,E,A). You find that mostly in Old Time and Bluegrass.

As far as style and attitude are concerned, fiddlers are less inclined to follow the rules, and are all about embellishment, speed, and making that instrument sing. It can make you laugh and stomp your feet and even dance a jig, or it can reduce you to tears. I like both, but then again, I'm emotional.

So there you go. Please let me know if you have any other questions. I love talking about fiddle and think everyone else might too.

I'm a twitter-er and dang proud of it.

2009-07-20T12:47:00.000-07:00

I'll be honest. I resisted for months despite the buzz about this new thing called twitter. Apparently everyone who was anyone was doing it. But me? Nah. I had facebook, I had a blog, and I had a phone with a keyboard for texting. Why did I need one more thing to add stuff to? I could barely keep up with what I had going on anyway.

But then we were asked, at church, to start using twitter for communicating during Easter, and being the ever excited participant in churchy things, I figured, might as well take the twitter plunge. I mean, its only 140 characters, right?

So I found a few people to follow, just local friends at church mostly. They were pretty interesting and posted funny stuff, but it got to be kind of laborious twittering, then facebooking, then blogging, and I didn't feel interesting at all. Suddenly there was pressure to be funny and witty and have something worth saying in 140 characters or less and if I didn't twitter then maybe it was because I really didn't have anything good to say b/c I wasn't living an exciting life worth talking about. (breath, breath, breath...)

Then I learned a few things about Twitter that helped. One, I learned that very few people were posting tweets that were overly interesting. Most people twittered normal, everyday stuff, like "in a meeting" or "pray for so and so" or "I hate Mondays". Everyone else's life was mostly mundane too. Yeah!

Two, I learned to sync facebook and twitter, so I could post on one and it'd post to the other automatically, like magic.

Three, I started following people on twitter I could never be friends with on facebook b/c facebook is a place for friends, while twitter was a place for 140 character snippets of life. So I started following Lance Armstrong (a little obsessed with Twitter, but interesting none the less), Ed Stetzer (also a big twitter-er and ranges from the mundane to the profound in his tweets), Mark Driscoll, and even People Magazine, so I can stay up to date on celebrity gossip, my guilty pleasure (don't judge me, I have a stressful job), and the band Mute Math, who post stuff like "puked on stage last night and it was awesome" (not from alcohol, but from being crazy).

I will say, in my defense, that I don't follow Ashton Kutcher, the most followed man in Twitter, or any other People Magazine type celebrities. I like to keep it classy, which is why following someone Eddie Izzard is so great. I mean, he crossdresses during his comedy act, and never makes the cover of People.

Now I love twitter more than facebook. Honestly, I do. Its fun to see what folks are up to, and when I see that more famous-ish people post normal things like "in a meeting" or "flying to Paris for the Tour de France", it makes me feel OK about my own posts of "taking a nap", "writing", or "helping deliver babies".

If you haven't tried Twitter, give it a shot. Find interesting people to follow, and be your own normal self as well, cuz at this point, the mundane is pretty cool.

Blood, sweat, and gears--romance in Boone.

2009-07-07T07:21:00.001-07:00

A week and a half ago, I left my sweet husband at home and drove NW to Boone with two goals. One, to see my sister and two, to ride in the Blood, Sweat, and Gears half century bike ride. For you non-bikey people, a half century is 50 miles--not a super long ride by cycling standards, but challenging enough when set in the mountains of NC.

Why, you might ask, would I do such a ride, with 4 brutal climbs and 2 fast and winding downhills that double dare you not to crash. I'd love to tell you why in two words.

The Romance.

That's right...the romance.

Its the energy felt at the starting line when 1250 riders, some there to compete, some to have fun, all gather in one small space to begin a long day in the saddle. Conversations range from "Where you from and what do you do," to "Did you hear about the guy last year who did this race on a fixed gear bike just because?" to "Yeah, I just bought this bike yesterday...we'll see how she does," to "Where do we go after crossing the start?" (That last one was my question--I was a little directionly unprepared).

Its the support you get from fellow riders on long climbs. Its the volunteers who hand you water and oreos at support stations along the way. Its the raindrops that fall softly on your face from clouds that cover Grandfather Mountain that towers above. Its the friends you make along the way on the flats so you don't have to ride alone for 3.5 hours. Its the mountain air that thins on the climbs and sweeps around you on fast downhills, giving you goosebumps despite the summer sun. Its burning lungs that beg you to stop and a heart that beats so fast and hard you think it might explode. Its some inner determination to not stop that helps you ignore your body and keep pedaling. Its that same inner something that brings prayers for help to your tongue as the top of the mountain just ahead. Its praising the Lord for 5 miles of downhill to the finish line, and its your sister yelling for you while you cross it, snapping pictures the whole time.

Its pain and tears and laughs and WOOHOOs, and its one of the best times I've ever had. 50 miles of blood, sweat, and gears.

Maybe next year I'll do the 100 mile option.

Dude, that scares me just thinking about it.

Acts 29 and the SBC--let's get real for a minute

2009-06-30T11:19:00.000-07:00

I've recently read a number of articles concerning a document written by a Missouri man and submitted to the Missouri chapter of the SBC, asking them to stop financially supporting any churches within the Acts 29 Church Planting Network. The Missiouri chapter agreed.

From what I've read, Moran attacks the emerging church movement, Acts 29, and Mark Driscoll.

Here's an article I found interesting about this subject. I especially like the comments section.

http://www.abpnews.com/index.php?option=com_content&task=view&id=4151&Itemid=53

Because I am part of an SBC and ACTS 29 church, and have also learned a great deal from Mark Driscoll, I wanted to comment a moment on this issue--namely, I want to defend Acts 29 and Pastor Driscoll. While he is more than capable of answering for himself, it never hurts to support a good man, right?

Mr. Moran accuses Acts 29 of cultural liberalism--the idea that living out the gospel changes as cultural changes--namely because many Acts 29 people drink alcohol without apology. The above article states, "Moran says in attempting to re-invent the image of evangelical Christianity, the emergent church often compromises beliefs such as the SBC's traditional opposition to use of beverage alcohol".

He sees cultural and theological liberalism as conjoined twins and equally evil, while most with the Acts 29 network would see them as vastly different, and only theological liberalism as dangerous and damaging.

And while many leaders (such as Brian McClaren and Rob Bell) within the "emerging church" preach a gospel of malleable theology that does hold steadfast through history and will continue to change in the future, Mark Driscoll does not and has spoken against these men's teaching. Driscoll sees theology as steadfast and unchanging, rooted in God's infallible word and in the Cross, but he sees living out the gospel and the christian life as ever changing from culture to culture to best represent Christ to those who do not know Him. Pastor Driscoll's "cultural liberalism" is for the sake of God's renown, to which I shout AMEN. And while those within Acts 29 might throw back a pint of ale with their non-believing friends, Driscoll never promotes drunkeness or debauchery, never ever.

For more on Driscoll's unpacking of the emerging church, please listen to the sermon link below from Southeastern Seminary's Convergent Conference in Oct, 2007.

http://www.sebts.edu/news-resources/multimedia.aspx

To make my point about cultural liberalism, allow me an example.

Paul commands we greet each other with a holy kiss. This conveyed hospitality, welcome, and love--all Christian values, right?

Do we ever do this in the US? I don't think so. I'd like to see Roger Moran be greeted by a brother with a holy kiss. I'm sure he'd write a scathing article about it.

Instead, to convey welcome, hospitality, and love, we shake hands. Not Paul's exact command, but culturally relevant and the idea remains the same. We're all about the holy handshake.

People like Moran what to live Christianity like we did in the 1950's. They might say they want to do it like during biblical times, but they aren't kissing people now are they? And honesty, I'm pretty sure some of those biblical characters shared a glass of wine with their friends. Jesus certainly did.

Unfortunately for Mr. Moran, I think people like Pastor Driscoll have growing churches and 1000s of examples of lives changed by Christ to defend their cultural liberalism. I'd like to know how big Moran's church has grown? I'd like to know how many people he's shared Christ with whose lives where changed for the better. I think if he spent as much time loving his neighbor as he does hating his brothers, he might have a change of heart.

my life soundtrack's newest edition

2009-06-16T13:19:00.000-07:00

Often I hear songs that strike me and I think, "This would be part of the soundtrack," to the movie of my life. Whether it has some great meaning or just a pretty tune, I keep a mental list. The musicians and artists involved in the songs usually become some of my favorites anyway, probably because I listen to their song or songs over and over. I'm a chronic re-listener, without apologies.

Through God's gift to the internet called Pandora, I heard this British musician named Kate Rusby that I'm loving and can't get out of my head. I love the richness of her voice, and I love that she's dedicated to traditional folk music, and I love her hair.

I'd love to share my favorite of her songs with you. Thank you youtube.com for providing this great video.

Let me know what you think. This song is best enjoyed with a cup of tea, late in the day, with a few candles on the side.

A Second Engagement

2009-06-14T10:50:00.000-07:00

I remember when Chris asked me to marry him. So many plans, so many lists, so many thoughts. I had to call the caterer (yeah Danny's BBQ), the flower people, the band, the guests, the preacher (also named Danny), the dress shops. We had to address invites and stuff envelops and pick music and choose vows and figure out who was going to sit where. All this while I was trying to manage nursing school and church and friends and family too. Needless to say, I had a lot on my plate.

Despite the chaos, the one thing I remember thinking over and over was, "I just want to get married." Even a few months before the wedding, I remember being over the dress and flowers and place settings and menu. That was fun stuff and it made our wedding pretty freaking cool, but I didn't need those things to get married. Hey baby lets go to Vegas became my personal theme song. Not because I hated wedding planning...that wasn't it at all. I just wanted to be married and not have to wait another day. Unfortunately I had to wait 4 months. God was gracious and helped me not convince Chris that elopement was a viable options, but it required lots of prayer and petition.

Of course, it was worth the wait, and all the planning that went into the wedding made it the most special day for us ever. I wouldn't trade it for the world...

But now I find myself in a similar situation--a second engagement, if you will. Don't worry, Chris and I are doing great and I don't want to remarry him or anyone else. But that same anticipation I felt during our engagement has resurfaced--in the form of wanting to be a mom.

Now this has not always been my desire. In fact, Chris and I talked endlessly before we got married about kids because I didn't really want them. Even after our wedding, I still was unsure. I liked my life--I had a good job, finally, and a good husband, finally. Those desires of my heart were met (thank you Jesus). Why should some little being come and ruin those things, interrupting my nice life?

Thankfully, my heart changed, almost overnight. The Lord convicted me of my selfishness, and opened my eyes to the opportunity of bringing a child into this world and raising them to know Him and to experience the great things He has done here. Chris was relieved, that's for sure, and my excitement about feeling this way only added to the desire.

The problem lies in my 2 year contract with the hospital. While I love my job, I don't want to have to work full time with a baby. Chris reminds me of this regularly as I try to convince him that we could make it work, really we could, so lets start trying now. He gently tells me to trust God and be patient...that now isn't the time, just like when we were engaged. We could have gotten married right away, but the months the went into preparations only added to our experience entering into marriage.

I hope that the time between now and when we start trying to have babies will, also, only add to the experience. But for those of you who are praying people, please pray for me. Its just as hard to hear that my friends are having babies as it was to hear they were getting married when I was single. Pray for patience and for wisdom. We would so appreciate it.

Chap 2-3

2009-06-08T06:50:00.000-07:00

Here's some more of the book. Please let me know your thoughts.

Chapter 2—Finding Home

Anna spent her first few days in O'Kelly keeping a low profile, which is no simple feat with a scary looking Doberman at her side and out of town tags. She looked for a place to live and work, walking past old memories remembered. Taft's General Store still dominated Main Street and flooded Anna with memories, like agonizing over which piece of candy she should choose and of old men sitting around playing checkers on the back porch. The Merry Dairy flanked Taft's, and it still looked like everyone's favorite ice cream in town. Anna wondered if Mr. Taft had ever declared his love for Miss Georgina Merry. Wow, she thought, that is so small town cute, and mildly nauseating. Donnegan's also remained where the town congregated most evenings for food, music, and drink. Anna recalled how her mother rarely visited Donnegan's despite its popularity, and wondered if she could even remember what Mr. Donnegan looked like.

A few new store names stood out—Boone Brother's Outfitters for one, Snaps, which looked like a good place for quick dinner, and Shag, a hippish kind of salon where the stylists wore all black and served bottled water and wine to their clients. Anna would have to find out what happened to Ms. Wanda, who owned the former salon in town, the Do or Dye.

Anna knew she had to buy into the life of this little town in order to survive and, hopefully, discover its secrets. She wondered how she could pull it off and yet keep her roots hidden. She didn't want her plans going up in smoke.

In only three days, Anna found the perfect place to live and set up her shop. The realtor's eyes widened when Anna paid cash for prime O'Kelly real estate. She replied simply to his look with just one word. That seemed to placate him.

She stepped into the living space above the soon to be bakery and immediately called her mother. “Oh Mama, its so great—its small and warm and the walls aren't egg shell.” She said joyously.

“I'm just so glad you have a roof over your head, a good, safe roof. That will have to be your refuge. Well, there and the hills, right?”

“Well of course. I already have a few trips planned out. Its just so beautiful here. How did you ever leave?” Anna couldn't help but pry a little.

“You never stop looking for answers do you darling? You know how I left—in a car, with you at my side, very quickly.” Anna knew that's all she would get from her mother. “How's the town treating you?” Meaghan turned the tables.

“Well, I haven't met anyone, except the realtor.” Anna heard her mother exhale.

“Oh Anna, I'm so nervous for you. You have to be careful.” She paused, “But, of course, they will want to know all about you, with your new shop and pretty face. So, as your mother, I'm giving your permission to lie. Lie lie lie.” They both laughed, yet Anna sensed her mother's effort to hide the fear in her voice.

“Mama, I love you. Thank you for supporting this, even though I know you hate it.”

“That I do, Anna, but I've reconciled myself to the outcome.”

While she easily transitioned into the upstairs house over an afternoon, the downstairs would need some serious help in order to become the bakery Anna pictured. The previous business rented the place, then up and moved to Asheville, stripping it bare—a simple, empty room with white walls, save the small kitchen through a door in the back. Buying the space helped solidify Anna's level of commitment, and she hoped it kept the seller a little quieter. She did not need the whole town knowing about the new girl just yet.

Hiding in her room, she searched and ordered everything she'd need for the shop--mixers and ovens and warmers and display cases, tables and chairs and silverware and mugs too. Definitely lots of mugs, and tea, and coffee. This was, after all, the mountains of North Carolina. Also on order, a sign to adorn the front of the shop.

Then, with Sig at her side, she drove out of town, keeping her eyes straight ahead, but aware of a few people watching. For three days she hiked and camped—places she vaguely remembered from childhood. Constantly tingling with fear and anxiety about this venture, Anna prayed for peace and wisdom. This town ran her mother out 15 years ago, and now they had no idea who was moving into the corner building—or so she hoped.

Chap 3—Meeting the Neighbors

The building next to the future bakery housed a small law firm—Hanson & Hanson, the former a rich, ancient hermit whose only legal contributions for the last 20 years was advice over the phone to his son, the other Hanson. Anna saw the younger Mr. Hanson's not so new black Mercedes parked on the street the morning she arrived back from her time in the hills. He'd driven the same car when she was younger, and then he stepped out the front door.

She tried to quickly unlock her front door while juggling her pack, dog, and keys. Anna had to fight her surprise at how much he'd aged over the years. Maybe those rumors of questionable scruples were true of the Hanson family, or perhaps it was the rumpled clothes. She hoped she'd changed even more, recalling how often this man visited her mother's shop when she was younger. What if he recognized her? Sig turned toward him quietly.

“Need a hand there missy?” Mr. Hanson asked with a gruffness in his voice that belied the early hour.

“No thank you, I got it.” Anna replied, just as her water bottle dropped to the sidewalk and rolled away.

He caught it with his foot and bent to pick it up. “You're new here.” It was not a question. Sig growled a little as the man stepped closer.

Anna place a hand on Sig's head and quietly regained herself. With resolution she looked to her neighbor, but spoke to her dog. “Sig, that's enough.” She took the water bottle with a smile. “Yes I am. Anna Matthison, pleased to meet you.” She shook his hand like her mother taught her, firm and with enthusiasm. Thankfully she'd remembered her contacts before coming back into town. She could easily see his face, friendly but also searching for information.

“Jacob Hanson. Welcome to O'Kelly. Where abouts you from?” He eyed the nose ring.

“Grew up south of here, but spent the last few years out west.” Anna didn't love dishonesty, even with her mother's permission. The old bakery was south of Main Street. “These mountains put a tie on someone, and its hard to be gone for too long, so I came back east—a new start in an old place.” She thought that was just enough information to satisfy Jacob Hanson, to make her seem local enough. She realized how easily she dropped into her old, hill billy accent.

He looked at her for a moment longer, then gestured towards the shop, “And this place—what do you intend?”

“A bakery, hopefully. They seemed full up of bakeries down in Asheville and over in Boone, so I landed here, in O'Kelly. Should be opening in a month or so, just in time for summer.” She flashed another smile, as warm as she could manage, almost certain it would win him over, “You'll have to come by for a treat, on the house, but don't tell anyone. I'd go broke feeding all the neighbors, but you're the first I've met.” She surprised herself with honest enthusiasm.

Jacob replied, after a moment, “Well, now that'd sure be nice.” He stared at her a second longer, almost looking friendly. “Alright Miss Anna. Looks like you have a lot of work to do, and so do I. We'll be seeing you.” He headed back in to his office as Anna watched from her door. Sig barked softly, breaking her thought. She pushed the door open and headed inside.

Painting dominated Anna's day as she covered the bare white walls of the bakery into the colors of the surrounding hills. Green on one wall, blue on the next, brown on the next, purple on the last for the periwinkles and sunrise. Old time music played through her iPod as she covered each wall, interrupted only once by a loud knock on the door. Anna peered around her headphones to see a pointed face peaking through the window. Glancing at Sig, who came to her side, she quickly answered the knock, still holding her paintbrush. “Hello. Can I help you?” She asked.

“Yes, yes, I'm Sylvia, Sylvia Johnson. I have that clothing shop up the street, that one there.” Sylvia pointed to Buttons and Berets. “I, I, I wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood. Jacob Hanson told me this shop had a new owner. So here I am, and I brought you these.” She held up a basket of muffins and a pitcher of tea. “Would, would you like to take a break. There's a bench out here, but you'll have to provided the glasses. I thought, I thought we could get to know each other.”

Anna smiled to herself a little. Oh Sylvia, I know you already. Your false timidity, your stutter, your outrageously overpriced clothes that my mother never bought. But do you know me? Do you remember? I guess there's just one way to find out. I hope God heard Mama's prayers. “Only if that's sweet tea.”

A confused look crossed Sylvia's wrinkling brow, “Is there any other kind?”

“Give me just a minute Ms. Sylvia,” Anna gestured to the bench and shut the door behind her.

Putting down the brush and wiping off her hands, Anna breathed a moment. She quickly rehearsed her story and ventured outside to sit with Sylvia. Sig followed, of course. Muffin in hand, Sylvia looked concerned. She stared at Anna, but tried not to. “Uh, well, why did you, did you come to O'Kelly? Jacob said to start a bakery?” She sort of toasted her muffin towards Anna with great seriousness.

“That's right. I hope to open by the summer.”

Sylvia took a long drink of tea. “And you've bought the place then? How did such a young woman come upon such funds?” Sweet tea apparently eroded away Sylvia's timidity. Knowing something of this town prepared Anna for such questions, however, she wasn't prepared for Sylvia's intense scrutiny. Please don't recognize me. Please don't...

She looked down at her hands, “A gift from someone.”

“Pfffftt. That's quite a gift there. Someone must've thought you were something special. You're parents perhaps?”

Man, she's going after it. “No, not my parents. They don't have that kind of money—at least as far as I know.” She followed with, “They actually owe me money. Can you believe that?” Anna hoped that might shut her up on the subject.

“Well I never!” The older woman did look flabbergasted.

Anna took advantage of the pause in conversation. “How long have you lived in O'Kelly?”

She asked. “Um, I, well I was born here. What about your parents--where do they...” Sylvia started to ask, but Anna was already on to the next question, “Would you mind telling me something interesting about yourself?” Sylvia eyed her, finally silent. Anna continued, “Just trying to get to know you Sylvia. Surely there's something you'd want to share. Like, what did you do this morning?” The older woman recovered.

“Uh, yes, yes sure. L, Let's see. This morning, oh dear, this morning w, w, was quite the adventure. I have a garden, you see, and the squirrels have eaten it to pieces. To stop them, I put netting all around the trees the devils live in, and they get caught. Then I, I, I take care of them.” Sylvia's voice rose to an almost fevered pitch.

“What does taking care of them entail, Sylvia?” Anna wondered, concerned with what the answer might be.

Sylvia sobered herself, sitting up and folding her hands in her lap. “Well, Anna, I beat them with a broom handle. Little buggers.”

Before finding an appropriate response, Sig jumped up and lay his head on Anna's knee. “Oh, Sylvia, shoot. I'd love to talk more but its time to walk Sig, and I wanted to head up the twins before it gets dark.” She pointed towards Sophie Rock and Siobhan Rock--two peaks that bent towards each other, supposedly named for a twin sisters.

“So you, you've already picked up on some local lingo. That's how all the outdoorsy folks around here talk.”

Dangit Anna, you got to pay attention to that stuff. “Yeah, I read it in my “Appalachians on an Empty Wallet” book. Thought it might help me fit in a little more quickly. They recommend the twins as a great place to hike.” Ok, not too bad.

Sylvia nodded, “I haven't read that one, but I have a lovely collection of Danielle Steele if you need some other reading.” Geez Sylvia, not Danielle Steele. “And Anna, you, you should check...well, you've got to look in a mirror before answering the door next time.”

“Uh, ok, I will. Thanks Sylvia.” She shut the door behind her and looked down at her clothes. Sure, they were covered in paint, but what did Sylvia expect? Her zipper was up, her bra straps weren't showing. What was Sylvia's problem? Anna ran upstairs to the bathroom for a better look. “Oh Anna, no wonder.” The various colors of paint splattered and striped her face and neck from top to bottom. She looked diseased. Dangit. Oh, what will Sylvia think of me? She washed it off quickly and thoroughly.

Thankfully, Anna made an effort to keep her face paint free as eleven other neighboring business and residents wanted to know all about the new girl in O'Kelly over the next few days. By the end of her fourth night in the shop, she had every wall painted and trimmed, ovens and equipment installed, and a fridge full of goodies in tupperware brought by everyone who stopped by. Anna glanced in the mirror while eating homemade mac and cheese, wondering where her fear of recognition came from. No one knew her, and truly, how could they. Fifteen years later, with an amazing haircut and contacts, she almost fooled herself.

80/98

2009-06-01T18:45:00.000-07:00

So after 3 hours and 37 minutes, I finished the Over the Mountain Triathlon on Saturday, May 30. It was brutal, and several times I thought I might just quit, or puke. I finished 80th out of 98 other women. While that seems pretty close to last, honestly, I was just happy to finish.

This was my first big tri, at this distance. I wasn't in it to win, only to finish, and to do it with a smile on my face.

For over 3.5 hours, I was alone, in the water, on the bike, during the run. Sure, there were people around me, but no one I knew. Chris and his parents were at my various transition points, but I wasn't up for conversation. I had to move, you know?

So what did I do? Where was my mind for those hours? On several things...

One, Jesus. I prayed so much, for my self, for my legs, for my brain, for my fellow competitors, for safety, for my family, my friends, our church...anything I could think of, I prayed for. I had time...and I really wanted to rely on Him to finish this race. I didn't want to do it in my own strength. I don't think I had enough. I surely didnt' have enough to smile at the end.

Two, the book. Also a subject of prayer, and also of thought. I am trying to figure out how to fit everything together in this story that is pulled from my brain. What's going to happen (I do know that much)...its the "how's it going to get there?" that still remains a little gray. But I love to think about it and let my imagination get a little workout, especially while on the bike. Its pretty monotonous on the road...pedal pedal pedal, gear change, pedal, breath, pedal, breath, pedal, gear change. You get the idea. So I spent some time thinking on the book. Anyone want to read it yet? 15 chapters needing some advice :)

Three, how much I love my wetsuit. This was mostly during the swim, but that wetsuit was so amazing that it stuck with me for the rest of the day, and even now. I can't wait to swim again with it. Its like a body tight float that gave me just enough help to prevent panic. The swim was probably my favorite part of the race.

Funny enough, however, was the other thing on my mind during the swim. I think I've watched too many episodes of Bones, the Closer, and CSI b/c I kept imagining seeing some body part in the water below me while I was swimming. CREEPY! Another moment of prayer...please God, no hands or skulls or feet please, please, please. And don't let me freak out right now thinking about it. That was only for a moment, but it was weird. I think I should watch some Office and 30 Rock. No dead bodies.

Four, how great Chris and his parents were. They cheered me on, took pics, got up early for the start, endured almost 4 hours for the finish, and loved me despite my cussing and sweating and exhaustion. They were the best fan club ever, and I felt so blessed to have them there.

So that's pretty much my thoughts during the race...I did manage to finish with a smile, and I can't wait to do it again. Anyone want to come along?

updates

2009-05-28T18:00:00.000-07:00

So I haven't posted in a few weeks b/c things have been busy! Here's a few updates...

1. Been working and having lots of babies (not personally...just vicariously through my patients). I've officially learned how to scrub, which means now I can be the person who hands the surgeon the scalpel when they say "Scalpel" just like in the movies. I also get to see inside people's bodies. That's pretty weird. I think the bad economy is making people stay at home more and make babies instead of just going out to dinner. Yeah for job security!

2. Been writing lots. My last blog post was chap. 1 of a book I've started, and now I'm up to chap. 15. I need some readers to let me know thoughts and offer editing advice. Any volunteers? (Shannon???)

3. The Over the Mountain tri is on Saturday May 30...in two days. I'm pretty nervous, mostly about sinking to the bottom of the lake in a flurry of other swimmers. The swim will be the hardest, so please pray I live, thanks. Its a 1 mile lake swim, a 28 mile bike, and a 6.2 mile run. That last .2 miles is going to be a doozy.

4. Being a wife takes up more time and energy than everything else combined b/c even when I'm working or writing or biking/swimming/running, Chris is always just a thought away, or a phone call away. Sure, marriage is work, but its the best job ever.

5. Doing it all for the glory of God--that's why I do all of the above. It makes all those things so much more meaningful and rich. I love all that I get to do, and even more so knowing its b/c of and for Jesus. He's given me a chance to serve my patients and my coworkers, to be creative, to be adventurous, and to love another person deeply. What more could a girl ask for, really?

So there's the updated list of what's happening on this end.

I'll be sure to update after the Tri on Saturday, if I'm still alive :-)

chap 1 revamped

2009-05-17T10:25:00.001-07:00

Many of you know that I've started to do a little light writing, and some have already read chap 1...but I've revamped it a little. Here's chap 1 2.0. Let me know what you think.

Chapter 1—First Day

Walking down the Main Street of O'Kelly Creek, NC on her first day in town fascinated Anna McLeod Matthison. She remembered the feeling that emanated from the shops and cafes and houses—that quaint, quiet joy found in mountain towns by the tourists who come looking for it. Anna also knew that behind the white picket fences dripping with ivy lingered another face of O'Kelly, the real one unseen by tourists. A town full of tradition and whispers, suspicious of any stranger who stayed through summer and into fall. The half backs, those that moved from New England to Florida and then traveled half way back to Carolina, were welcomed into town for the summers, but most locals were only too happy to watch those same Buicks and Volvos head back south come September.

Anna grew up in the thick of the O'Kelly life. Her mother, Meaghan McLeod, came to the area as a baby with her aunt and uncle, nearly 60 years ago. They came from Ireland, though of Scottish decent, and settled there because of Paddy O'Kelly, Meaghan's great great grandfather who founded the town.

Meaghan inherited Paddy's entrepreneurial spirit and opened a bakery in 1968 on Ryan Avenue, just a block off Main. This shop dominated Anna's earliest memories. She could still hear the sound of the big mixer turning some new creation—smell the cream cheese frosting on her fingers even after they were licked clean—hear the voices of friends and neighbors and tourists sitting around the store. Mostly, she remembered her mother, smiling in colorful aprons and heels, baking while she welcomed everyone. Anna would kneed dough or ice cupcakes and just listen as the adults talked about new businesses moving into the area or the latest match made in O'Kelly or how some hiker heard something again up near Emily's Peak. Whenever this got mentioned, Meaghan would glance at Anna and give who ever was talking a look. They would quiet down real quick, knowing full well they might find Meaghan behind them with a wooden spoon, her Scottish eyes blazing.

Anna, now 28, was no longer a child, and her mother's old bakery no longer wafted deliciousness through the town. In its place stood an outfitting company, complete with solar panels and a watering hole for dogs, owned by two young guys from up in Boone, or so the signed claimed. Anna kind of thought some smart grandmother probably owned it and just used the names of her grandkids for marketing purposes. Those boys probably lived in Nashville.

Finding a little cafe across the street from the Boone Brothers Outfitters, Anna pulled out her journal and started to write, to recollect. Her fiercely loyal Doberman, Sig, relaxed at her feet.

This town appears so dear and easy, and yet it turned so quickly, smoking us out. I'd never seen Mama so afraid as she took me away to a new home. Her words that night haunt me still, “What have I done? What is this place?” She never told me what happened, despite all my questions. Instead, I got a new name, a new school, and she got a new bakery. It all happened so quickly, so finally. She rarely spoke of O'Kelly—but I've thought about it, this pretty mountain town. What lies in its underbelly? What lurks around these hills that frightened my mother so much? I never thought to return despite the questions, but here I am, all because of Nathan—sweet, wise Nathan.

Sighing a little, Anna closed the journal and looked to the surrounding mountains. What in the world am I doing here? She reached down to Sig, and flashes of the final conversation with her mother rang in her ears.

“Oh Anna, your hair! I can't believe how different you look with it short and dark. And what have you done to your nose. Girl...!” She pointed to the nose ring, her mouth hanging open. Meaghan's southern accent always came out despite the 15 years since they left O'Kelly, and the south for that matter.

“I know Mama, I needed a change. You like it?” Anna twirled and smiled.

“You look so pretty, like a little hippy from Seattle. Why the change now? What's in your mind?”

Anna sat down. “Its been two years Mama, and I've got to do something—something new and big. And I've got questions that need answering, so I'm leaving, soon.” She paused, “I'm going back to O'Kelly.”

Meaghan's eyes flashed, then flooded. “So my girl's going home then. Oh I know why you are going—and I know there's no stopping you, no matter what I say. No matter that I think its a terribly dangerous idea. But surely he's gone by now...” She muttered the last part, and Anna barely caught her words. They weren't intended for her.

She responded, “And you won't tell me Mama, you won't say what happened?”

Meaghan pondered for a moment, “Darling, I...I can't. There's not much to say, except that it was my fight, my decisions, and my chapter. That story is long written from my life, but not yours, it would seem. I'm sure it will be quite an adventure. But darling, you've gotta stay secret. They can never know who you really are. I like your haircut even more—you look so different.” Meaghan smiled, then cautioned, “O'Kelly is not what it seems, Maryanne Margaret.” Anna sensed the seriousness in Meaghan's voice. Her southern accent became more pronounced and thick with intensity. “Keep your eyes open and your head on straight—do what is right and good, no matter the cost.” Anna saw a quick sadness in her mother's eyes, which then recovered and smiled again. “And keep your contacts in. It'll do you no good to fall off a mountain, right?”

chap 1

2009-05-11T11:31:00.000-07:00

Here's chap 1 so far from the new project...

Chapter 1

Walking down the quaint main street of O'Kelly Creek, NC both gladdened and sickened Anna McLeod Matthison. She remembered the feeling that emanated from the shops and cafes and homes—that sweet, quiet joy that can only be found in a mountain town by the tourists who come looking for it. Anna also knew that behind the white picket fences that dripped with ivy and the open windows overlooking thick azalea blossoms lingered another face of O'Kelly, the real one unseen by tourists. A town full of tradition and whispers, suspicious of any stranger who stayed through summer and into fall. The half backs, those that moved from New England to Florida and then traveled half way back to Carolina, were welcomed into town for the summers, but most locals were only too happy to watch those same Buicks and Volvos head back south come September.

Anna grew up in the thick of the O'Kelly life. Her mother, Meaghan McLeod, came to the area as a child with her uncle, a farmer, and aunt, a homemaker and incredible cook. They came from Ireland, though of Scottish decent, and settled in O'Kelly, as the story goes, because Paddy O'Kelly was Meaghan's great great grandfather, a high born young man who escaped a wrathful brother, bent on killing him to gain their father's substantial inheritance. Apparently Paddy valued his life more than his money, coming to this new land and putting down stakes in a small but fertile valley where a small creek fed the French Broad. Paddy's farm grew, and, being an enterprising man, he started shipping his good down stream towards Asheville for the best prices. Soon, other men were bringing their goods for shipping too, and thus the town began.

Anna's mother, Meaghan, inherited a similar entrepreneurial spirit and opened her bakery in 1968. This shop dominated Anna's earliest memories—the sound of the big mixer turning some new creation—the smell of cream cheese frosting on her fingers even after they were licked clean—the voices of friends and neighbors and tourists sitting around the store mixed with intermittent pauses as they sunk their teeth into Meaghan's wares, leaving even the chattiest person speechless for a moment. Mostly, she remembered her mother, smiling in colorful aprons and heels, baking while she talked with her guests. Anna would kneed dough or ice cupcakes and just listen as the adults talked about new businesses moving into the area or the latest match made in O'Kelly or how some hiker heard something again up near Emily's Peak. Whenever this got mentioned, Meaghan would glance at Anna and give who ever was talking a look, along with the statement, “We don't know anything about that.” Always the same look, always the same statement. They would quiet down real quick, knowing full well about those few people who failed to heed Meaghan's looks and were asked to leave the store, or found themselves running out, Meaghan behind them with a wooden spoon, her Scottish eyes blazing.

Anna, now 28, was no longer a child, and her mother's bakery no longer wafted deliciousness through the town, luring customers in for just one cookie. In its place stood an outfitting company, complete with solar panels and a watering hole for dogs, owned by two young guys from up in Boone. At least, that's what the sign claimed. Anna kind of thought it was probably owned by some smart grandmother who just used the names of her grandkids for marketing purposes. Those boys probably lived in Nashville. While it looked like a nice store, it only nauseated her a little more. This town just wasn't right. Maybe that's why they left in such a rush 12 years before.

That fateful night, Anna awoke to her mother urgently whispering her name, her full name, which, at the time, everyone knew her by. “Maryanne--grab you shoes and coat and move girl, move!” As the pair ran to the front door, they both froze. The bakery, across the street on the corner,, blazed in front of their eyes, huge flames reaching for every panel of wood, every roof tile, every flower in the window boxes. It all burned. “What have I done?” Meaghan whispered. “What is this place?” She grabbed a confused Anna, pulled her to the car, and never looked back.

Anna's life changed dramatically—they moved to the Pacific Northwest and started a new life there—a new bakery, new school, and new name. Maryanne got shorted to Anna, and life got on. Despite the unpleasantness of their departure, Anna could not shake the memories of her hometown, or the mystery surrounding the fire and her mother's fear.

In college, she majored in business, minored in history, and worked at a bakery, using her mother's secret recipes to entice customers, eventually managing the store for the owners and finding some measure of success. She got married her senior year to a man who couldn't say no to her or to her butterscotch brownies, only to be widowed four years later. Her beloved husband, Nathan, left for a rafting trip one weekend and never came home. Anna wept and grieved for months, then slowly began to find healing in her baking and in her new found love, hiking. Oregon lended itself to the outdoor types, and while Anna always like being outside, she'd never felt such a pull to climb peaks or reveled in the rush of seeing the world below. There, she felt organic, peaceful, and caught up, for a moment, in some unseen romance. She could finally breathe.

For two years after Nathan's death, that's all she did, with Sig, the sweet and fiercely loyal Doberman she rescued. All morning she baked and served her customers, and most evenings were filled with traversing through the woods.

While she walked, she planned, and eventually made some major decisions. One day, she packed her Subaru station wagon, loaded up Sig, kissed her mama, and headed east down the same road they'd traveled up so many years before.

As she bade farewell to her mother, Meaghan cautioned, “O'Kelly is not what it seems, Maryanne Margaret.” Anna sensed the serious in Meaghan's voice. “Keep your eyes open and your head on straight—do what is right and good, no matter the cost.” Anna saw a quick sadness in her mother's eyes, which then recovered and smiled again. “You'll know what to do.” With one more wave, she drove away.

What do ya'll think??

my book

2009-05-03T15:37:00.000-07:00

I think I might try to write a book. Its something I've wanted to do for awhile...like, years. I pondered writing non-fiction, but despite my well known, and loved, verbose nature, I just couldn't think of something that I knew that much about that hadn't been said in numerous books before. So, for now, non-fiction is shelved, and will probably collect a nice layer of dust while I focus some time and energy into a little fiction.

What type of fiction, you may ask? Humor? drama? love and romance? blood and guts? Yes. Blatant Christian romance that will sell out at Lifeways around the nation. Probably not. In fact, hopefully not. I want to write a book that appeals to a large audience, which will probably entail women from ages 16-60. It definitely has to be funny, with twists and turns and unexpected-ness around every page. Of course there will be love (I'm a girl, remember), probably some deaths and accidents but no gore...gore is for weirdos. Ultimately, I want this book to be about redemption--a major theme in my life, and about selfless, life giving love--the major theme of the gospel. This story will not be an analogy or an allegory, but it will have reflections of what I believe about God, Jesus, the Spirit, transformation, love, and life.

I don't know if I'll get through 2 pages and quit, or if I can bust out a few chapters in the next few weeks. Some of you lucky readers (or possibly unlucky, depending on your point of view) might get to take part in this venture, as my "editors" and "critics". Let me know if you want in.

As a teaser, I can already tell you that this story is about a young mother called Jillian, her 5 year old dauther Laurel, a small town called O'Kelly Creek nestled in a valley in the mountains of NC, and something supernatural up in those mountains that the townsfolk don't like to mention.

So here we go...updates to follow.

Oh, I forgot to mention--Chris's anniversary surprise! It was perfect :-) He had a scavenger hunt around durham to our favorite place to find a picture of us that I'd dropped there. The clues ended up leading him to Nana's, where we had a great great meal. SOOO good! We exchanged gifts there--he got me a lovely necklace literally laced with herbs. I got him 2 tickets to see Doc Watson in concert at the NC Museum of Art, and a journal will notes about him from people he works with, family, and friends to encourage his sweet heart. I think and hope he felt as appreciated as he is by me. Honey, I can't believe its been 1 year already...and so many great ones to go. Love you!

Anniversary

2009-04-22T14:55:00.001-07:00

As of May 3, Chris and I will have hit the 1 year mark in our marriage. We weren't going to do any super special, but I've been pretty busy lately with work and moving and triathlon stuff, and I appreciate and love him so much, that it just seemed like the perfect time to let him know...

So I've a few surprises up my sleeve...he knows they are there, but he doesn't know what they are:-) Keeping secrets is definitely not my forte, so the next 10 days is doing to be tough b/c I'll want to let the cat out of the bag SO BAD. But I'll hold on, and after all is said and done, I'll fill everyone in on what went down.

If you are a praying person, please pray that everything will go as planned and that Chris will know what a great guy he is and that I'm super blessed to be his wife. Also pray that we don't get a divorce during our move to a new house the next few days b/c its so stressful and last time we moved stuff we fought the whole time. Finally, pray that the next 50 years will be as great as this last one.

More details to come after May 3!

my job

2009-04-19T15:22:00.000-07:00

When people find out that I work as a nurse in Labor and Delivery, I usually get two pretty standard reactions. Girls say something like, "Oh wow, that's got to be amazing." Guys say something like, "Ew, gross, I don't want any details."

I also get to hear a lot of people's birth stories, like how long they pushed, how bad it hurt, how incredible epidurals are, how big their baby was, and how hard or easy the following few days were. I think that being a nurse offers people some level of comfort in their candidness. Often, before saying something really gross or personal, they begin with, "Well, this might be too much information, but you're a nurse, so you're used to it." Then they proceed to describe their placenta, their episiotomy, their hemorrhoids, and their subsequent need for Colace. I totally thrive on these conversations. Ya'll are talking my language!

With all that said, I also get asked, "Well, what exactly do you do?" So I'll take a second to tell you, in limited detail, what my job consists of.

First and foremost, I am a labor nurse. I admit patients, put in their IVs, give them any meds or fluids they might need, watch their vital signs (blood pressure, temp, heart rate), monitor their contraction rate and strength, monitor baby's heart rate, stay with them through an epidural placement if that's what they choose, offer labor support, keep them breathing and in control when it hurts so bad, coach them through pushing, call the docs when delivery is immanent, and watch them closely after they deliver.

I am also a baby nurse, which means that I take care of the baby right after its born--making sure baby is breathing and stable, suctioning all the gunk out of the lungs, weighing baby, doing footprints, and wrapping baby up for mommy and daddy. That's one of my favorite things--to take a new baby to his or her parents for the first time. Pretty cool moment.

Then there's the OR...whenever my patient has to have a C-Section, I work as a circulating nurse in the OR, meaning I document everything that is happening, get the patient prepared for surgery, keep an eye on things, and get anything that the MDs or Scrub Techs might need for the surgery. Love the OR.

After the OR, I become a PACU nurse, which means I watch the patient as she recovers from the C-Section. There, I mostly monitor vital signs and do pain management, which is usually morphine, because it works. I also help mommy and baby bond despite a little harder road to delivery.

I'm just learning how to be a triage nurse, which means that I help the MDs figure out who needs to stay on our unit and who needs to go home. This mostly involves asking patients lots of questions and monitoring them for a little while. Triage gets exciting when a patient comes in and tries to deliver in the hallway or at the front desk. Then we have to move pretty quick. Or really quick. This usually only happens when someone has had more than one baby. We keep a pretty close eye/hand on moms who have had more than 3.

Eventually, I will be able to be a scrub nurse, which means I get to scrub in the OR and hand the MDs their instruments for C-Sections. Some people say its great, others say its terrifying. Either way, at least I'll be learning something.

So that's pretty much my job...go team va-jay-jay. I have lots of amazing patients, and some pretty difficult ones too. Regardless, I get to see babies born just about every shift, and it never fails to blow my mind to see a new, little life. God is good...

moving day

2009-04-15T13:03:00.000-07:00

Well friends, a lot has happened since last I wrote. Sometimes life gets the best of me and drains all those creative juices I need to write. However, four good days off from work has set me right again. Now to catch you up on what's happening.

The biggest news is that we are moving. Yes, we are moving. After a year in our apartment, we are ready for something new. Something a little bigger, that doesn't share a wall with anyone, that has a yard for herbs and veggies, that doesn't roast us in the summer and freeze us in the winter. Thankfully, after much searching, we found something just about right.

Its a little house about a mile from where we live now, in a neighborhood I don't know that much about except that its still close to all of our favorite things, like 9th Street, Broad Street, Tobacco District, Tobacco Trail, and of course, West Club Blvd.

This house was built in the 1950s, has three bedrooms, a den, dining room, 1.5 baths, a kitchen, laundry, and best of all, a porch, deck, and fireplace. Boy oh boy oh boy. We are very excited about our new home and can't wait to have everything over there.

I am much less excited about GETTING everything over there. Moving just about tops my list of things I hate most, probably second only to Dengue Fever or crashing my bike head first into a moving car, then being cussed out by the driver who failed to yield. Jerk. Anyway, moving will be a task, but Lord willing, we will have some good, strong help and get the job done real quick. If you would like to help us out, just let me know :-) We pay with pizza.

Other things that are happening...work, work, work, church, church, church, tri, tri, tri. I'll have to update about those things later. Its all good and steady and exhausting and fabulous.

training update

2009-03-25T06:20:00.000-07:00

Many of you know that I've been training for a triathlon for a few months now. Having done a few running races in the past, I wanted to try training for some again that was new and different. Triathlon seemed like a good bet since I knew how to swim, had a bike, and kind of liked running maybe.

So in October, I started training for a Sprint Triathlon, which means a 750m swim (15 50m laps in a pool if you are counting), 20k bike (12.4 miles), and 5k run (3.1 miles). I quickly realized that I could do all those distances, and I could do them all together. Not that big a challenge. The next logical step was to jack up my distances and go for the Olympic distance, which is a 1500m swim, 40k bike, and 10k run (double the Sprint). That has definitely been a little harder. Ok, a freaking lot harder.

I began training individual events and getting my distance and speed up on those. I'd run 9 miles one day then bike 20-30 miles the next then swim 2500m the next...that sort of thing. Training was going well, but it was really exhausting, as you can imagine. I began to lose weight, which was OK until I realized that part of the reason I was so tired was that I wasn't eating enough to be training this hard. Upping my caloric in take with fruits and whole grains (lots and lots of cereal) slowed my weight loss and helped me feel like a normal person again. Coffee helped too. It always does.

Then I got sick about a month ago. I'm not talking about just a cold. This was full on sinusitis/bronchitis with coughing up a lung and fever and all that. No training for a whole week--no nothing for a whole week except laying in bed watching old episodes of 30 Rock.

When I finally made it back outside and began to train, I kind of got freaked out. Only 11 weeks till my big race and I was SO far from being ready. I started praying and training really hard. Instead of just individual events each day, I began doubling up. Instead of going beyond my distance on a run, I'd do an even 10k after a swim, or hit the running trails after a 25 mile ride. I've also added a day of conditioning, a mixture of yoga and football drills--hmm, strange combination. Downward facing dog one minute, then 50 up-downs the next 10 minutes. Its a great workout for endurance, lung capacity, heart rate, and flexibility, and its a change of pace from the pool/bike/road.

That's where I am now--doubling up workouts as best I can and focusing on the upcoming race. I'm nervous, that's for sure--its a lot of ground (and lake) to cover.

My goal is to do it in less that 3hrs and 20mins. We'll see I guess.

Some might wonder why in the world I would do this--all this training and time put into preparing for a race. I wonder that myself sometimes. However, yesterday I remembered why I do it. There are a few reasons. One is discipline. It takes a huge amount to get out there day after day in rain and wind and even sunshine. I realize that I don't have it in me, but with the help of the Lord, I can. So I guess its really the discipline of dependence, and I hope He gets the glory when I cross that finish line.

Two, I feel alive when I've hit a new milestone like doing a 40k bike then running a 10k back to back. Even though I want to die afterward, the satisfaction is incredible. It means that I've changed, that something is different. I'll take the pain and dehydration for that feeling anytime.

Third, I feel strong and undefeated. Like, I dare someone to chase me.

Four, I always want to be trying new things, no matter how hard they are. Whether that comes from walking with God or from being human or from how I was raised, I don't know, but I do know that so much joy is found in even trying something different. Shoot, even if I fail, at least I tried, right?

Five, this training has given me a chance to live locally in a way that I never did before, I run around the city and my West Club/Trinity neighborhood, I get my bike fixed at the Bicycle Chain on Broad St. I swim at Edison Johnson Community Pool. I get to run with girls from my small group, I shop for all this food I'm eating at Whole Foods and our neighborhood Kroger, and I get an after ride coffee at Joe's on my way home. Walking around in bike clothes always stimulates conversation too :-) Word.

So those are a few reasons why I'm doing this crazy thing.

Thanks for reading about this little part of the greater journey. I'll keep you updated :-)

Babies galore

2009-03-19T18:56:00.000-07:00

As of late, I can't escape the babies. Let's take, for example, my job. Three of my coworkers are out on maternity leave with their precious little ones. One is 24 weeks pregnant and glowing. Several have kiddos less than a year old.

Let's also take my actual work--every patient I have is pregnant. You have to be pregnant to be on Labor and Delivery. Some are full term, healthy, and ready to deliver. Some aren't there yet, but they are close. I see babies born just about every day I'm there--I get to see the joy and excitement in parent's eyes when they are presented with this new life, complete with a hat and diaper, and wrapped like a little burrito in baby blankets. I can't escape them, ever.

Let's also take my sweet cousin, who is 10 days younger than me. She's preggers after trying for some time, and she is having a boy.

Then there are the 5 staff wives at church who are pregnant, a friend from seminary who is about to pop, two others who just did, another two here in Durham who are due in a few weeks...the list goes on. All in all, between Chris and I, we know 13 people who are pregnant, and five who have had a baby within the past 2 months.

What the heck. I'm surrounded.

And its catching...

No, I'm not pregnant, but dangit if I don't want to be. So bad.

For the first time since we've been married, I want a baby. Real bad. Right now please.

And while Chris and I aren't trying to get pregnant yet (probably next year), I keep thinking to myself, "It wouldn't be the end of world you know, if it happened early."

We'll keep you posted.

Living Locally

2009-03-08T17:55:00.000-07:00

So we've been challenged by our pastor to live locally, meaning to do our "lives" within the neighborhood around our church so we can really get to know people, know what they might need, hopefully meet their needs, and pray for them. It got me thinking--how am I going to live locally? What can I do in my neighborhood?

Here's some ideas that I ganked from Brad (my pastor), and some that I came up with on my own.

Eating at Bhan's, Elmo's, Jimmy John's, and Chubby's Tacos.
Coffee at Bean Traders or Mad Hatters. Both have wireless.
Books at Nice Priced books on Broad Street.
Haircuts at the Garden Salon (I think its within 5 miles of the church)
Violin repair/maintenance at High Strung on Broad St.
Bike repair at the Bicycle Chain on Perry St.
Soy milk and goat cheese at Whole Foods.
Other groceries at Kroger on Hillsborough Rd.
Gasoline at the BP on Broad St. The guy in the mornings is super nice.
Running around East Campus and the Club/Hillandale neighborhood.
Gift shopping at Morgan Imports and Zola's.
Swimming at Edison Johnson Pool off of Murray Rd.
Satisfying my Indian food cravings at Dale's.
If I had a dog I'd go to the dog park in Northgate Park. Someone should!

That's all I can think of right now...I'll keep the list going as new things come along.

Maybe its good for all of us to think about how to live locally so we get to know our neighbors and can participate in our community. It matters!

Our Wedding

2009-03-03T10:30:00.000-08:00

I've finally begun to go through our wedding pictures, and they brought back so many memories that I'd like to share with you.

When Chris and I began discussing getting married, about 3 weeks into dating, I finally felt the freedom to really think and imagine what I would want in a wedding. Most girls start planning their wedding around the age of 8. I didn't do that very much, and as I got older and remained single, I was afraid to even think what I'd want in a wedding, fearing that the disappointment of never having one would overwhelm me.

Having been to a number of weddings, and never being one to conform, I definitely knew what I didn not want. I did not want invitations with multiple layers or vellum. I did not want matching bridesmaid dresses in some outlandish color that requires getting shoes dyed. I did not want the preacher to present his 10 points on how to have a successful marriage. I did not want the wedding march. I did not want special music. I did not want a cake cutting ceremony because I knew it would be too tempting to shove cake in my new husband's face despite thinking that is kind of tacky. I did not want to throw the bouquet because it turns lovely, sweet girls into scary linebackers and it doesn't work anyway. And finally, I did not want prissy food that requires four trips through the line with a plate in each hand to finally feel full. Not that these are bad things. They just weren't me things. Thankfully, they weren't Chris things either.

So we decided to break the nuptual mold and do it our way, regardless of expectations, and it worked. We set our wedding on a horse farm, with green pastures and white fences, under a huge white tent. Our guests sat at tables during the entire ceremony and reception, drinking sweet tea from mason jars. Gerber daisies and candles brought color and light to each table.

Chris and his guys wore black suits with no ties (they LOVED that), and my girls wore black dresses of their choice. You've got to be able to wear it again, right? My sister, Connie, played Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing on the banjo as my both my parents walked me down the aisle, alight with white rose petals my four flower girls so gently drizzled along the way. Our friend, Rick, prayed for us. Then we, the happy couple, sat on a rod iron bench, raised on a platform and facing our guests as my adopted aunt and uncle read scripture. Then Danny, a friend and mentor to us both, talked briefly about us and about how we hoped our marriage would represent God's grace and bring Him glory for the rest of our lives. Then we stood and said our vows, before our Lord and our friends and family, exchanged rings, and finally, Chris kissed his bride. Booya.

Finally, we were married, and the party began. Danny's BBQ provided a bounty of meat and beans, and people filed through the farm's pretty barn, filling their plates. A huge basket filled with the makings of smores invited people to the fire pit to make dessert. A game of corn hole started by the barn as Rift filled the air with bluegrass tunes. A table filled with baskets of candy provided our guests with a little take home gift, and opposite that sat another table, towering with gourmet cupcakes topped with sugared daisies, replacing the traditional cake.

One of my favorite moments in our wedding oddly enough didn't involve my new husband. My mom's family, from western Kentucky, made a huge effort to come to our special day. They drove over 10 hours to be there, and I wanted to thank them in a memorable and meaningful way. Muhlenberg County Kentucky, where they live, where my mom grew up, and where I spent some of my best summers and Christmases, holds a very place in my heart, and in the heart of John Pryne who wrote a well known bluegrass song about his own love for this place. So, to honor my family, Connie and I sang it for them. It was hard to not cry during that song, but we made it through, and I think they liked it.

Finally, Chris and I made our big exit, surrounded by a sea of our friends and bubbles. We drove off in an antique car borrowed from a friend of a friend. That was the start of our marriage, and it definitely began with a bang. It warms my heart when people still talk about how fun, easy, and different our wedding was. That was kind of the idea, you know?

I would also like to thank Poiema Photography (www.poiemaphotography.com) for our amazing photos. They blessed us with their talent, their work ethic, their creativity, and their dedication to capturing everything about our day. Thank you!

Good Books

2009-02-27T19:03:00.000-08:00

So I was looking over our book collection today since I've been home sick and have overdosed on old episodes of 30 Rock. We've got some good stuff on our shelves, and I thought I'd share a short list of possible reads...remember, I'm a girl, so some of these probably won't thrill any guys out there, but some might, so keep reading. I'll label the "girls only" ones...

Anna Karenina
Crime and Punishment
A Tale of Two Cities
Wives and Daughters (girls only)
Calvin's Institutes
Augustine's Confessions
Everybody Poops
Sense and Sensibility (girls only)
Oh the Places You'll Go (that's Dr. Suess)
Knowledge of the Holy
Peace Child
The Princess Bride
Hudson Taylor's Spiritual Secret
The Wheel of Time (that's 11 books)
Mere Christianity
Harry Potter (also available in Spanish)
Lord of the Rings
The Chronicles of Narnia
The Great Divorce
Spirit of the Disciplines
Spirit of the Rainforest
Rumors of Another World
The Weight of Glory
Let the Nations be Glad
Desiring God
Confessions of a Reformission Rev
Sheet Music (for married folks only...trust me)
Bridget Jones's Diary (girls only, unless you are really trying to figure out women)
The Radical Reformission
From Jerusalem to Irian Jaya
I'll love you forever, I'll like you for always
The Socio-Cultural World of Luke-Acts
Honor and Shame in the Gospel of Matthew
Tess of the Dubervilles
Systematic Theology (Grudem's version)
Red Moon Rising
The Last of the Mohicans (great movie too)
The Mists of Avalon (if you want to know what Wiccans believe--not for the faint of heart)
The Three Musketeers
Blue Like Jazz
Any of Shakespeare's plays...12th Night is my favorite...and Much Ado About Nothing

So there's a good place to start :-)
If you have any questions, please let me know.

2009-02-25T17:18:00.000-08:00

John Piper wrote in Desiring God, "Jesus is precious because we yearn for beauty." We, humans, love beauty. Girls love things that sparkle; guys love girls that sparkle. We celebrate beauty and strive after it tirelessly. And finally, when, by grace, we see Jesus, His beauty, so pure and real and greater than anything we've ever seen, we worship. Its a beauty that is irrefutable and the very reason for the saints' perseverance.

If Christ's beauty brings us to our knees, shouldn't all beauty ultimately turn our eyes and lives to Him? I think that's why the view from the top of Looking Glass Mountain takes my breath away. That's why art can bring me to tears. That's why I love the power of words--the beauty in these experiences makes me want to worship.

This is a video Chris shared with me from a Jewish jazz musician called Daniel Zamir, and is so good and beautiful that I literally thanked God and cried a little while listening to it. I wanted to share it. Daniel Zamir does not believe the same as I believe, but I can still see Christ's beauty in his music, and I hope others can too. Maybe Jesus is that big...or rather, that lovely.

PS. The drummer is pretty good too...and Daniel definitely redeems the soprano sax from Kenny G's debacle in the early 90s.

Recent Read

2009-02-25T12:42:00.000-08:00

One of my favorite pastimes is reading. Just ask my husband. I've got stacks of books by my bed at all times and bookshelves full of favorites that I happily reread more than twice. Our friend Dan Hawkins once said I have good taste in books, and coming from him, who work in a library and reads more than anyone I know, that was a serious compliment. I nearly wept.

Currently I am reading two books--Lonely Planet's Guide to the Ukraine and Confessions of a Reformission Rev by Mark Driscoll, for the second time.

Now, Lonely Planet is pretty straightforward and not particularly life changing except for the fact that the more I read about the Ukraine the more intrigued I become with this country--but that is a whole nother blog post.

Confessions of a Reformission Rev, on the other hand, is worth a few lines of commentary, mostly because I think anyone who cares about the church and God's reputation worldwide should read this book. Its pretty great.

Confesssions traces the life of Mars Hill Church in Seattle, which Driscoll founded, from its beginnings as a small bible study with 20 people to a mega-church of over 4000 people in the past 13 years. Through humor and humble honesty, the author paints a history of failures, trials and errors, spiritual warfare, diligent prayer, physical suffering under the strain of being a pastor, and casting a vision for mission to people of a city with no idea of what mission meant. Driscoll comments on the dangers of liberalism in the Emergent Church/Emergent Village, even calling out several well known leaders of this movement by name. He talks about the struggles his own family faced, like when his daughter told him she couldn't sleep because dark angels were pulling her hair and telling her Jesus wasn't real. He says he was a cessasionist until he planted Mars Hill, as God began demonstrating His power through words of knowledge and prophetic dreams. Enemies rose up from within his congregation, people mooned their outdoor bible study, and a guy died of a herion overdose on the stairs of their church office.

With stories like those and chapters titled, "Jesus Could You Please Rapture the Charismaniac Lady Who Brings Her Tambourine to Church?" and "Jesus Why am I Getting Fatter and Meaner?", how can you resist?

Actually, aside from the fun stories and crazy experiences, the real draw of this book lies in Driscoll's relentless pursuit of God's glory through the redemption of souls and his unbending will to keep his church focused on this mission no matter the cost. Driscoll calls his church to go and make disciples, not to stay and just be cool and spiritual. He wants other pastors and missionaries, those reading his book, to be students of culture, to be creative, to love and honor scripture and to believe it, to love and honor God and believe Him and fear Him, and to be people of the Cross with eyes and lives on the mission.

That's something worth reading. And if you are interested in the Ukraine, Lonely Planet's pretty good too.

Anger

2009-02-21T12:27:00.000-08:00

Yesterday at work, I got cussed out by a patient's mother on the phone an hour after arriving to work. She'd never met me, seen me, or spoken to me. The only experience she'd ever had in labor was her own was having her own children. After she told me that we, UNC Hospital staff, didn't know what we were doing (despite delivering over 300 babies a month), she hung up, swearing all the way.

I was shocked. No one had ever spoken to me that way, ever ever. More than shocked, I was angry. And not just angry, but mad. Like, I wanted to smack her, hard, twice. How dare she talk to anyone that way? I felt slightly abused and assaulted, and I knew that if she acted like that to my face, we'd have a problem on our hands.

Thinking ahead to that potential problem, I told my charge nurse and our unit clerk that if this lady came to the unit, she should not be allowed in. Our clerk announced with a grin, "Girl, I LOVE calling security!" I knew she would.

We didn't have to call security, and everything ended up fine, but it made me think about my own response to this situation. Did I have a right to be angry? Given the chance, should I have said anything to this woman about her actions and words? What does it mean to turn the other cheek and does that apply here? What would Jesus have done? He probably would have said something deep and wise--something I could never come up with spur of the moment. He's way smarter than me, and quicker.

I still don't have an answer to the question, really...I don't know what the "Christian" response is in situations like these. Thankfully I did not have the chance to respond yesterday in my anger because it would have been decidedly un-Christian. Now I have time to process, time to pray, and figure out what to do next time. Maybe there won't be a next time, but probably not.

Prayer time

2009-02-20T17:48:00.000-08:00

Chris and I are praying tonight for the 1000 hours of prayer our church is doing this week. I thought, in order to focus, have accountability, and share with you our prayers, I'd blog a little while and what we prayed.

Lord, I thank you for the grace you have poured out on our church and in our lives. You are growing both us and the Summit, and we are learning so much, namely, that its not about us and that its nothing we do. Still, we come to you humbly with requests, as we long for people to know you and to worship you.

God, I hope that our campus at West Club is a place where you are honored above all things. God, may it be a place of deep and honest worship, a place of friendship and community, a place that is focused more on our neighbors and community than ourselves, and a place were lives are changed to the glory of your name.

So much of the world is living without light and they have no idea. So many people need a Savior. And God you have raised up people here to go and tell them about Jesus. I pray for our churches in Central and Southeast Asia, for South Africa and China. God, give them grace, give them humble hearts, give them power over the darkness so that people might come to know you through them. Reveal yourself to their neighbors and their friends. Make yourself known for your name's sake and for the sake of your renown.

I pray for future churches in North Africa, Eastern Europe, and Latin America--may teams be raised up here to go and make you known. Open doors and homes and streets to your gospel. Give your people courage to speak and ears to hear, and make those who go learners and listeners just as they are teachers and speakers.

Lord, for the sake of the mission, for the sake of the vision, for the sake of your name, and for the sake of the hearts of the people at the Summit, draw us unto yourself and help us respond to your gospel with generosity. May our lives not be ruled by greed, material comforts, or satisfying our wants first, but may our lives reflect the Savior--kind, generous even unto death, obedient, and gracious. May we all catch the vision of making you known and may we give in response, of our time, money, energy, and prayers. May our gifts be acts of worship. May our hearts be cheerful and our minds trusting, and may it all be to your glory.

Amen.

Our time is out and now we're going to watch a Mark Driscoll sermon. Then we're going to watch Bones. Friday nights rock.

The Future

2009-02-18T12:55:00.000-08:00

In college, the first time around, I was a psych major (or a major psycho, depending on who you ask). As a psych major, I took a series of personality tests that were supposed to reveal things about me and my brain, which they did. Some things varied from test to test, but one thing remained consistent--I like decisions to be made. I am a "J", if you ask Myers-Briggs. J people do not like things hanging over their heads, they like decisive answers, and they like them now. Rarely do we spend lots of time researching one option or the other.

Also according to Myers-Briggs, I am an NF, which means I make decisions based on intuition and feeling. This, combined the the J, often makes for emotional, quick decision making. Sometimes I make the right decision, sometimes not.

As a Christian, I have had to learn to pray about things--not always easy for an NFJ personality. Usually I find myself praying that I've made the right decision instead of what decision to actually make. More recently, thanks to a great deal of grace and a husband who mulls over decisions and researches options into the ground, the Lord has been teaching me to slow it down, relax, and wait on answers.

It makes me want to pull my hair out.

This is especially true for what lies ahead for Chris and I, namely in the area of future missions. Our church (www.summitchurch.cc) has an incredible sending program for missionaries through the International Mission Board (IMB). We have 3 main church plants and are opening 3 more in the next few years. Since Chris and I are committed to our church, we also feel committed to serving at one of these 6 places, despite the IMB having missionaries in just about every country out there.

But now we have to choose where and when. We have to decide which place fits our skills, personalities, and passion. We have to figure out where the God we worship wants to use us.

We don't know right now, and again, it makes me want to pull my hair out, what little is left.

Really, we could be used in any of the 6--we are adaptable, "marketable" people with a passion to see others walking with Jesus. Chris wants to be involved in counseling and discipleship and training other people up to do the same. I want to be in the lives of women, using nursing, and also making disciples.

Where will these passions lead? What will we do? How will it all happen? Who will we go with?

All these questions, and right now, very few answers.

But thankfully, we serve a God who knows the answers. It makes me think of when God asks Ezekiel some hard questions and he answers "I don't know God, but you do." I feel like him pretty often. Maybe, like Ezekiel, the Lord will use us to raise up an army of dry bones who can go to more places and touch more people's lives than the two of us are able to do on our own. Maybe He'll use us to raise up just a few. I don't know, but He does, right?

So for now, we wait for our answers. We wait and pray, and I try to not pull my hair out.

Kristi Winters Walker

2009-02-13T14:27:00.000-08:00

This morning, a woman that I went to high school with, Kristi Walker, passed away from complications with breast cancer. She left behind her three young boys (one an infant), and a loving husband.

Kristi loved Jesus deeply and trusted in His salvation for her hope, and now that hope is realized, to her joy despite the sorrow felt by the countless people who were praying for her and her family.

Please pray for the Walker/Winters family for they have lost a wife, a mother, and a daughter. Also, praise God for the many lives that He touched through Kristi's journey. She was a light in the dark.

2 steps behind

2009-02-11T11:18:00.000-08:00

Newlyweds are notoriously poor, with hand me down furniture, second hand books, and a huge flat screen TV that was an unexpected and welcomed wedding gift, despite the fact that it sits on a small TV stand from some sweet Craigslist deal.

Chris and I started with very little. He had just finished school and was working full time at the church only 5 months before we got married, and I was still in school, not starting work until Sept of 08. We found a small 2 bedroom apartment in central Durham to rent, drove old, somewhat rickety cars, shopped at Target for clothes, and tried to not eat at expensive places (thankfully Tokyo Express is pretty cheap b/c we're addicted). We have no debt, unless you count the 2 years of work I owe to UNC for paying for school, but that's not monetary and I love my job.

Currently, we both bring home a pay check, and we're saving some and trying to spend wisely. Sometimes we go a little over our budget, like at Christmas, but not very often. We actually have more money now than either of us has had as adults. What recession?

Our pastor, J.D. challenged the congregation a few weeks ago to live two steps behind our income bracket in order to be able to give more for the sake of people in need and ultimately for the sake of the gospel. Dang...two steps behind?

When I compare two steps behind to the girls that I work with (who I consider in my income bracket), that means no new car, no buying a house, not much going out to eat, not a lot of new clothes, definitely not new clothes from the mall unless they are on huge sale, no needless trips...just not much at all.

Chris and I already live pretty simply and sparsely...what more can we give up?

That is our prayer right now. What more can we give up? There has to be more. We still have plenty to eat and to wear and a house that works, most of the time. We're not struggling.

Its part of the challenge to believe...to believe that God wants to do great things in this world...to believe that money is not where our security lies...to believe that He will provide in the future as we give in the present...to believe that I don't need designer jeans to be a normal girl.

Through this whole process I've seen how much I count on money for comfort. Not material comforts but emotional comfort...knowing that whatever comes up, we can handle it financially. Where is faith in thinking like this? Where is trust? What am I really believing in?

This story is not over...not even close.

Ballykissangel

2009-02-10T19:05:00.000-08:00

Rarely do I find a TV show addictive. The Office is one for sure...Arrested Development and Seinfeld too. All American, all comedies, all about quirky (and sometimes downright crazy) people. I think its the shows about weird, funny people that draw me in. Sure, I like drama too...The Closer for example. Full of drama, but also full of goofballs that make me laugh.

Maybe that's why I've been totally sucked into a new "old" show. I mean, I can't stop. Its like cake or skittles--just one more bite. PLEASE! Actually, its probably more like coffee--not as unhealthy as cake or skittles, but even more addictive. Like, every morning addictive. Oddly enough, I generally only drink coffee on days I work, and I generally only watch this show on days I'm off.

What show has so enthralled me that I'm now blogging about it? What show has commanded an hour, at least, of my day the past 4 days? What show combines the allure of drama with the lightheartedness of silly characters for non stop entertainment? I hoped you would ask.

Ballykissangel. Yes, you read that right. Ballykissangel.

Its from the 90s, its set in Ireland, and its about a priest. Have I tempted your fancy yet? If not, I'll continue...

Its about a big city British priest, Father Clifford, who moves rural Ireland as the curate, and rushes headlong into the lives of his parishioners. One's always trying to get rich, one's a coward police officer who thinks he's supposed to be a priest b/c a statue of St. John almost fell on him, one's a feisty girl who's desperate to get married, one's a vet who sometimes drinks too much and wakes up surrounded by sheep, and one's a hot single girl who is mad at God and the church.

Oh the drama! Oh the humor! Oh the accents!

BallyK (as the locals call it) used to come on PBS, but now I've only found it online on Netflix.

So, if you are in the mood for some good British humor and lovely characters, give Ballykissangel a try. You won't be a bit sorry you did.

Cheers!

Running tips

2009-02-07T11:41:00.000-08:00

I ran through Durham this morning, and after 5 miles with 4 to go, I needed something to occupy my mind. Having logged several thousand miles of open road, I've learned a few things about this sport/activity/pastime that are both informative and kind of fun. So, I began to think about tips I could share about running--things every runner needs to know and maybe some non-runners might even find helpful. Here we go...

1. Running with a buddy is usually more fun than running alone.
2. Snot rockets are a necessity.
3. When running, your brain and your bowels are your worst enemy.
4. Gas station attendants generally don't mind you using the bathroom. Just don't say, "Thanks and I'm sorry" on your way out.
5. Always have your sunglasses handy, except at night, but you shouldn't really run at night, especially in Durham, unless you are with a running buddy who can kick butt.
6. Beware of uneven pavement.
7. If you find yourself falling, tuck and roll like Jennifer Garner in every episode of Alias and come up shooting...I mean running.
8. Always choose the longer route. You can do it.
9. Running in the city is usually more fun than running in the country.
10. New shoes are a great motivation.
11. Never trust a dog--in a car, on a leash, or even a toy poodle named "Sweetie".
12. Homeless people usually say hi back.
13. Keep your ears warm at all cost.
14. Hills are your best friend, even though they sometimes rear up and smack you in the face.
15. Running when its 18 degrees and feels like 8 degrees is possible, but every step hurts.
16. Its too cold to run when snot freezes to your face.
17. Its too hot to run when you are sweating before you've left the house.
18. Drink lots of water, even in winter.
19. Drink lots of coffee (that's a tip for everyone), after your run is over (not great health advice, but coffee is so good and you deserve a reward!).
20. Running can be a social event, but you know its a good run if you can't talk most of the time.
21. Passing your favorite restaurants on route is also great motivation.
22. Powershots are way more fun that Gu.
23. Laying down after your run feels awesome.
24. Laying down during your run is usually a bad sign.
25. Having a working knowledge of traffic patterns, stoplights, and the "right of way" is a necessity for navigating any route that's not your treadmill.
26. Drivers are scary, and sometimes don't look right when they are turning right. Keep your head up and eyes open. You are smarter than them!
27. If someone whistles or hollers at you, just give a little wave and continue down the road.
28. Saying hi to other runners will make their run better.
29. You don't need expensive running clothes to be a killer runner. You just need good shoes, and good socks, and good socks are cheap.
30. Say hi to cyclists too. We're in the same club, right?
31. The last mile of your run is more dangerous than the first so watch your step.
32. Very rarely can you find a flat run in NC--everything is either up or down so don't be fooled.
33. Wave to drivers who yield for you. That was nice of them.
34. Running in circles sucks...try the open road.
35. Start slow and work your way up. No one is a good runner at first.

So that's what I've got for now. Any other tips?

lunch today

2009-02-03T08:57:00.000-08:00

The UNC School of Nursing Accelerated BSN Program is 14 months of classes, labs where we poke and stick mannequins, clinicals where we poke and stick patients, hours of cramming for exams, and even more hours crying to our classmates during our 10 and 30 minute breaks between classes and for lunch about how our lives were ending.

With only 28 people in my class, some really fun friendships formed amidst the hospital and labs and tears. And, with UNC Hospital's amazing loan program, 22 of the 28 new nurses are working at the hospital, so most everyone is still in the area.

Today I met up with one of those people for lunch, someone I had bonded with during our time on the Rehab unit at UNC in our first clinical. We helped each other with patient transfers, medication administration, and bedpans. She actually made all of those things fun, well, close to fun.

Now she actually works there, and we try to get together every so often to catch up. Without fail, nursing is the center of our conversation. That's what we know, and so that's what we discuss. There's always stories about crazy patients or scary situations that only another nurse can understand and relate to. She tells me her stories, and I share my own. Despite working on very different units with a very different patient population, our stories, without fail, make us laugh.

In this line of work, you have to laugh in order to make it, else you burn out. Taking things too seriously in nursing is a death sentence. Sharing your experiences, both successes and failures, as well as the ridiculous, with other nurses is therapy. People outside of healthcare will listen, but they don't really understand, or they get a little nauseated. I'm pretty sure the guy at the table next to us was gagging a little during lunch today.

But we have to get it out, and thankfully, the Lord as blessed me with several friends in the field to unload on and to laugh with. What a change from nursing school, where we were all on the verge of a nervous breakdown most of the time. Now we have lives and can be creative and have fun and chuckle at ourselves and our jobs.

I'm so glad that my friend met me for lunch today for said chuckling. I know she'd be there to listen if I needed to cry a little too, but today neither of us did. In fact, it was quite the opposite.

Husband

2009-02-02T18:40:00.000-08:00

Growing up, I always wondered what it'd be like to be married. Would it be weird to live with a man who wasn't a family member? Would I really be able to pee in front of him? Would we be super romantic or more practical? Would we be social butterflies or home bodies? What TV shows would we watch together? What would we name our children? How would be serve the Lord together?

So many questions, and the answers are only found in actually walking out the day to day with the man I said "I do" to.

Having been married, now, for a whopping 9 months, I can say that I've found the answers to these, and many more, questions.

I can also say that, despite finding a number of answers, Chris, my sweet man, continues to surprise me, and I love it.

For example, on my way home from work tonight, he told me about all he learned today watching videos online about how the brain works, especially concerning sleep and learning. Apparently the 11 hours of sleep he got last night help him retain all the information he proceeded to relay to me about those videos.

And I loved it! I loved his fascination with these videos, and how he wanted to actually apply it to his life to improve things. I loved that he wanted me to watch them to and share in his fascination. I loved that he got aggravated when I wanted to work on this blog instead of watching.

Chris sometimes gets sucked into Wikipedia tornados, which turns into gold as he digs for little pockets of knowledge that he then share with me, so we're both learning about interesting, and sometimes ridiculous, things (see Winchester Mansion on Wikipedia).

So honey, thanks for sharing. Sorry I don't always listen, but please, keep talking.

Running

2009-01-30T10:31:00.000-08:00

Someone asked me yesterday how to get started running. This was an interesting question, and I definitely had an answer, though I'd never articulated it before.

Having run a few thousand miles in college, I took a big break from it during grad school and nursing school. I mean, I didn't run a step, except to the toilet (those of you with IBS can sympathize). Don't get me wrong, I was active. I cycled, I kickboxed, did yoga, lifted some weights, hiked a few good trails, but I didn't run. In fact, I hated running. I loathed it. I hated sucking wind. I hated wanting to puke after a good sprint. I hated that I couldn't run 6 miles like I used to. Oh dang, there's the kicker.

Realizing that my hatred of running stemmed from the fact that I was actually incapable of doing it hit me like a drunk guy in a bar fight. Ow.

So with the goal of completing an Olympic distance triathlon in 7 months, I started running again. First, I'd run a few minutes, then walk some, then run again, then walk more, hoping I wouldn't pass out. Thankfully I had a few friends that also liked this idea, so we ventured out around Duke's East Campus a few times a week. Soon I was up to a mile, then two, then three whole miles without walking. Before, in college, three miles seemed pretty wimpy, but now it was a great victory.

Soon it was four, and walking one at the end. Then, one day, I was overcome. I woke up and thought, dangit, I'm doing six today, without stopping. One full hour of running steady, so help me God. And He did but not how I expected.

I started my run nice and easy, not wanting to putter out a mile five, and cruised around our neighborhood up towards East Campus. Then I pushed through a few of those hills for another two miles, and felt ok. Soon, I headed up to Duke Gardens, and that's when it hit the fan...or rather the pavement. Every step was agony as my feet grew heavier and more leaden. Every breath burned as I suffered up hills and through the gorgeous and fragrent gardens at Duke. All I smelled was hell and sweat. Thoughts of someone's grandma, out for a morning stroll, stumbling across my lifeless body down by the fish pond, the police trying to track down my identity and contacting my next of kin, kept crossing my mind.

This run would be the end of me.

But I kept going, dragging myself home, but still running...kind of.

And how I hurt the day after. My legs, booty, abs, feet, aching aching aching. What was I thinking? This training is just the stupidest thing I've ever done.

Still, the commitment I made outweighed my misery. This was about discipline and perseverance and kicking butt.

So I went out a few days later and ran the 6 miles again, and believe or not, it was easy. It was glorious. It was even fun.

Now I'm up to 9 miles, and still having a blast. My knees ache a little sometimes, but its so worth the pain for time on the pavement, running through my city, talking with my running buddies, and striving after the goal. Come May 30, I think I'll be ready to face the mountain at the Over-the-Mountain Triathlon.

I better be.

The Vision

2009-01-25T15:10:00.000-08:00

Having been a Christian for 13 years, involved in a number of churches and para-church organizations, I've heard my fair share of sermons and seen people moved to tears by preaching and worship. Often I see them through my own tears.

But today was different. Today was serious. It was emotional, yes, but even more, it was real. Honest. True. Difficult. Right.

Today the call went out to the people of our church to forsake their own agendas for the sake of the gospel. What does that mean, really? It means that we see that Jesus, in His great love, died for us to reconcile us to God the Father, and we respond to His sacrifice by making His name known among people who don't know Him, no matter where or no matter what it takes, we must make Him known.

Why make Him known? Two reasons. One, He is worthy of the worship of the nations, and they can only worship Him if they know Him. Two, people everywhere are lost and in need, and we know what joy can be found in knowing and trusting Christ for a hope and a future. We have the answer to the questions.

So why was today different? What made this call matter to me so much? Many of you know that Chris and I want to move overseas and serve God. That's nothing new for us. However, a number of people finally took a deep breath, closed their eyes, and said yes. Yes to the mission, yes to the vision, yes to going somewhere and doing what Jesus did--healing the sick, feeding the poor, and proclaiming the good news of the kingdom of God.

A dear friend of mine told me today that she was saying yes. She doesn't know when or where or how, but she's in. With tears in her eyes and on her cheeks, she surrendered. And she will go. I know she will. If anything, telling me that she will go holds her accountable to the calling. I will constantly remind her of what God did in her heart and what words came out of her mouth on Jan 25, 2009 till she is in another country serving for the glory of God.

That's why today was different. The Vision of the Summit proclaimed, to plant 1000 churches in 30 years, and the call for people to go heeded, amen.

L&D

2009-01-23T17:52:00.000-08:00

Most of you know that I work in Labor and Delivery at UNC. Today we had 15+ babies (give or take a few) in less than 12 hours, and now I'm home with my honey and can barely keep my eyes open to write this blog. So many new lives arriving, and so many old lives changing forever. Its exhausting being part of the process, but also kind of incredible. While Chris and I will probably wait a few more years to have our own kids, I am truly blessed to be invited into the births of countless others. So thanks to my moms for being so sweet and so brave and so strong, and for letting myself and my coworkers to take part in one of the coolest days your lives. Now I'm going to bed.

my bad

2009-01-18T18:16:00.000-08:00

I have the honor of being a table host for the Summit Church's Starting Point team, which means every other month I get free dinner from Honey's and help walk people through the membership process of our church. Now, this process is not a quick signature and polaroid snapshot after which we extend the right hand of fellowship. No sir--we have to actually make sure that the people that are joining the Summit agree with the doctrines of the church and truly are committed to the mission and vision laid out by our elders and pastors. Imagine that. This means we table hosts have the privilege of asking the guests around our table some very personal questions about their spiritual life, theological questions, and thoughts about the Summit. Yeah, kind of awkward.

Tonight was a pleasant surprise. The people at my table were all friendly, clean, normal type people. They had all made commitments to Jesus and were ready to join the church with very little question.

I however, had a question, which took "awkward" to a whole new level. Two of my guests, a guy and gal who were both young, attractive, single people came in together, sat together, and were obviously well acquainted. When asked what they did in their spare time, both mentioned spending time together. When it came time to do the individual interviews, I asked if they wanted to do them together, since I always interview couples as couples. That's just my style. Casually, while looking over my questions, I mentioned, "Yeah, we can do you guys together since you're dating." The silence that followed demanded a little more of my attention. "You are dating?" They both shook their heads, glancing at each other and at me. "No, we're just friends." Yeah, the cuss words going through my head probably aren't appropriate to put into writing. "Or we can go individually. You choose," I hurriedly added. They decided to go ahead and interview together, being the good friends they were.

Trying to cover my obviously inappropriate assumption, I said something about how having a guy or girl that was a good friend sure was something rare, something special. I could feel myself getting warmer as my face began to turn a color similar to the bright orange scarf wrapped around my neck. I quickly pulled it off. No need to encourage comparison.

The rest of our interview went without a hitch, and they were both lovely people who will contribute significantly to the Summit. Still, I sure wish I could have heard their conversation on the way home. Or perhaps the awkward silence...I guess we table host are good for something.

Adventure

2009-01-17T16:56:00.000-08:00

We're watching the Bourne Ultimatum at my in-laws house, and, as usual, my pulse is up and I'm sweating a little--not because Matt Damon is easy on the eyes, but because this story line oozes excitement, suspense, and adventure. Here's a guy who jets from one place to another trying to figure out who he is and what in the world he is about.

It made me wonder, why do we love this movie? What is so appealing about a guy with amnesia kicking major you know what?

Maybe its because we want justice like Bourne wants justice. Maybe its because we recognize that our world is jacked and needs someone to rescue it. Maybe we want to know who we are and what we were made for. Maybe its because we want, even need, a little more adventure.

How many people have I met that are trying to "find themselves"? How many have said, "I just don't know who I am"? Bourne tries to find his answer in his past, and in plotting revenge on those who wronged him. Others try to find it in their jobs, their friends, their hobbies, their nights out.

Just like Bourne, who finds his answers wanting and leaping off a building, it seems to me that people looking for their answers continue to move up the corporate ladder or salary bracket, dive head first into one thing after another, or go out to the same clubs and bars night after night after night. Does it really help, or leave us at the edge of a building contemplating the drop?

CS Lewis once said, "If I find in myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world."

Perhaps our fascination with Bourne ultimately points us to our deep need for something bigger than ourselves, bigger than our world. Perhaps it points us to Jesus, who offers us love, a life of purpose, a life of adventure. He probably won't give us a life like Bourne, but ultimately, He gives us something bigger, something far sweeter than kicking butt and outsmarting the ones in charge--a life that lasts forever with joy deeper and more pure than any pleasure the world can offer, more satisfying than the greatest act of vengeance, and more victorious than beating the world's most powerful government at their own game.

I'm going to bed

2009-01-13T21:40:00.000-08:00

When Chris and I got married, we got a fairly nice set of mattresses (albeit used off craigslist), egg crates, new pillows, and gloriously soft sheets. As newly weds, we figured that our bed would be kind of important, and we were right. I never thought I'd like my bed so much. Then I started my new job at UNC Hospital.

After work 12 hours, day or night, I want to get into that bed more than I want food, water, coffee, or conversation. I long for it. I yearn to lay my head on my pillow and snuggle under our comforter next to my man. My drive home is consumed with thoughts of sleeping in the bed.

I've always been a stomach sleeper, save when I dislocated my shoulder, and then it was 8 weeks of back sleeping which was possibly worse than the actual shoulder injury. Who thought back sleeping was a good idea? Well apparently my chiropractor, who I visited a few weeks ago due to some nasty back pain. He was quick to denounce my stomach sleeping and "prescribed" back or slide sleeping from now on.

This became a matter of prayer...deep and earnest prayer. The bed I loved quickly became a battleground between my back and stomach, and the torture of temptation to turn over "just this once" made me sweat and splutter.

Then my cousin suggested the Boppy body pillow, found in the "mommy" section of Target that I've NEVER set foot in and hope to not return to any time soon. I've avoided that water like the plague. However, the call of the Boppy overwhelmed me, and I ventured into foreign "mommy" territory.

Now I have two companions that I love in my bed--my husband and my Boppy. There's just enough room for the three of us, and thankfully Chris isnt' the jealous type.

So our bed is almost perfect. We could stand to turn the mattress more often and make the darn thing everyday, but its comfortable and easy and functional despite the crowd. But I guess without the crowd, it wouldn't be so close to perfect.

revelation song

2009-01-11T13:17:00.000-08:00

Alas for those that never sing,
But die with all their music in them!
~Oliver Wendell Holmes

Music is what feelings sound like.
~Author Unknown

While a number of songs and ditties stick in my head and randomly bubble up to my lips at the oddest times, only a handful of songs have truly captured what I feel. Certain lyrics and melodies perfectly embody my emotion, and these songs are like old friends.

This happened recently when my mother-in-law introduced me to Revelation Song. She knows what I like, I guess. It was just lovely, and I downloaded for a solo trip down to Georgia for a wedding. With seven hours in the care ahead of me, I wanted to make the most of my time, which meant singing and praying my way down I-95. This song struck me so deeply on the road that I continued to repeat it, crying each time it played. Driving became a little hazardous through the tears and rain, but I pressed on, singing away.

This song is an echo of the songs of heaven written in the book of Revelation. Its an echo of what believers will sing to their King. It was like hearing the future. It was like hearing heaven's worship and heaven's rest. For someone who is continually tired, hearing heaven's rest fed the hope I have in Christ. Because this song is so lovely and overflowing with meaning and emotion and appropriately responds to the greatness of God, I wanted to share it with you. The link below will take you to youtube.com and to a recording of the song.

I hope it moves you to worship as it did me.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FObjd5wrgZ8

The Story

2009-01-10T18:38:00.000-08:00

Maya Angelou once said, "There is no agony like bearing an untold story inside of you." Having not written much for the past year, the pull of untold stories finally overwhelmed me. For over a year they have built up, and now the tension is beyond a nap or run or tasty meal. I long to share with you stories about marriage and nursing and life in the dirty D and world events and how I see it all fitting together.

I reckon that some of these stories will be as mundane as tea, and some will be as abstract and over-arching as time, but I hope that the mundane and the grand will leave us all in wonder of our Creator, else I have failed as a writer and story teller.

And so we begin...

Some friends of ours live in Central Asia, in a country that will remain unnamed for security purposes. They moved there because they love Jesus and want to make Him known among people that do not know Him, for they know the depth of love and peace He has to offer. Many in this country need such love and peace, yet they might even kill a person for mentioning the name of Jesus publicly.

For months they lived there, learning the language, studying the culture, befriending their neighbors, and praying they might share the story of Jesus quietly within their community. Hiring a housekeeper was a norm, and necessity, in their city, and soon after arriving they found a local lady looking for work. She worked day in and day out, and my friend continually tried to find ways of sharing Jesus with her despite the language barrier.

By Christmas, the language barrier was being broken down and my friend and her housekeeper were talking while putting up Christmas decorations. My friend began to tell her the story of Christmas, and her housekeeper said, "I know this story, and I believe it." My friend nearly fell out. She quickly recovered and said, "Come tell my husband what you just told me," fearing she had misunderstood the housekeeper. Her husband confirmed that she had indeed understood, and the housekeeper continued, "Yes, and my husband believes also." In a country that is over 99% Muslim, my friends had hired a woman who believed in Jesus--a woman who desperately wanted to know Him more.

Two years before, someone had shared the story of Jesus with this dear lady and her husband, and they secretly believed despite no other teaching or a Bible to read. They longed for someone to teach them, and then my friends arrived and brought them under their roof, then into their lives.

It seems that people from every tribe, tongue, people, and nation long to know more of Jesus, witnessed by those that go to tell of Him. Stories much like this one from all over the world trickle in. They involved unknown people in desolate and dangerous places--people who are not making a name for themselves but for Jesus. They will never grace the cover of books or headlines in the newspaper. Still, they quietly work to make Him known. Quietly and continually...to make Him known.