Philippians 2:14

I feel like the devil is nipping at my heels these days.

I am irritable, easily stressed, and feeling kind of down. And for no apparent reason*. I'm also going through one of those phases where I am being really hard on myself, and not at all in a productive way.

I've been praying for humility, so that my faults won't cause me such grief. So that I won't focus so incredibly much on myself and what's wrong with me and on vain worries. I really need to look outside of myself more.

Great start, huh? This post is all about me!

Well, since it's already too late, here's something else about me, that really isn't about me at all. I saw a Bible chapter and verse on the back of a truck the other day on I-95 (Philippians 2:15), and when I looked it up I thought it was surely for me! (Because, after all, the entire reason that company printed that verse on its truck was for ME to see it one day..).

So that you may become blameless and pure, "children of God without fault in a warped and crooked generation." Then you will shine among them like stars in the sky.

At first I thought, how cool! I've been stressed that this culture is going to hell in a hand-basket and this is telling us to hold on and be an example, a shining star! Oh, but not so fast. I looked immediately before it, at verse 14, which is part of the same sentence, and saw this (emphasis my own)...

Do everything without grumbling or arguing, so that you may become blameless and pure, "children of God without fault in a warped and crooked generation." Then you will shine among them like stars in the sky.

Of course. THAT is what I needed to hear. I have been doing my fair share of grumbling and arguing lately. I can't seem to stop myself. It really made me realize that grumbling and arguing, speaking negatively, acting ugly, it's all a pretty serious sin. I guess I tend to brush that off as a lesser offense. Not enough to get me in the confessional right away. But no. If doing things without grumbling and arguing can make us blameless and pure in front of God, then doing things with grumbling and arguing must make us impure and with blame. Oh, that is me. I am not shining like a star at the moment. And I'm no better than the rest of the warped and crooked generation. I'm so focused on them that I haven't noticed how much I'm offending God myself.

So I really did need to read that. And while I don't think that Bible verse was referenced on that truck just for me, I do think there's a chance God had me drive by it right then for very good reason. He knows I'm definitely not opening up my Bible lately. He had to plaster it right in front of me one way or another. 

There's really so much to be joyous about and thankful for, and I am. I have so many happy, amazing parts of my day that I hate when the devil creeps in and tempts me into doubt and grumbling and irritability. I've been trying (and usually failing) to be better these last few days. Hopefully I can break my bad habits.

*I'm blaming it, at least partly, on the Prometrium.

Getting ready

I am a little behind these days. We don't have an Advent wreath, and at this point there is really no point in getting one. I haven't bought a single Christmas present (although I don't really have many to buy) and we only just started discussing that we really should have something under the tree for the kids (but they already have so many things in our very tiny house!). 

I love Christmas, of course, but I just don't go crazy with decorating and shopping and all of that. And for many years, that was at least partly because of infertility. There was even one year (perhaps the Christmas right before we met Clara) when I even refused to get a tree. And then last year - our first post-infertility - Ryan brought a tree home for us one day, but we were pretty busy with a newborn and a one-year old to do much else.

So this year we find ourselves with two babies who love Christmas carols and one who is very much into Santa Claus (seriously, what is it with that old man? We don't push him on them by any means, but all it took was her seeing him for the first time in a video last week to fall in love. Everything from there on out was, "Santa! Santa! Saaaaaaantaaaaaa!"). So there is a lot more Christmas spirit in our home these days.

We baked some Christmas cookies, at Ryan's request. I don't normally even let Clara into the kitchen (other than to eat, I'm not that bad!), but I let her bake some cut-outs with me the other day...

Her concentration was adorable.

If you look closely at her right hand, that's her private stash of dough she'd been eating/playing with/putting on the cookie sheet. Good thing I didn't give any cookies away.

And this year, because she is now apparently old enough to know and love him, we took her and Luke to see Santa for the first time...

The only sign she was nervous - her motherly rubbing of Luke's arm.. because, she must have thought, if I'm nervous, then baby must be too :)

And, despite my annual hesitation, we got a tree. Really.. am I the only one who is pained by how much they cost? Ours was $44. Almost $50 for something we'll have for less than a month. Ugh. I know, that probably makes me a Grinch.

Despite the price, the tree is actually one of my favorite parts of the holiday. And the kids love it, so it's worth it. Here is Clara hugging an ornament...

They were very into decorating it. And, the next day, they were even more into un-decorating it. So we were forced to spoil the ambience by putting our baby-wall (or whatever you want to call it) in front of it. Maybe that makes me a lazy parent, but when they don't respond to ten-thousand No! Don't touch the tree!'s, I would rather avoid the issue altogether.  

I saw an idea online for a felt tree that they can decorate themselves, so I made them one, hoping it would satisfy their need to play with ornaments...

Yes, Elmo is higher than Our Lady in this photo. I had hoped to take a picture with all the secular icons located near the bottom so you all wouldn't think I was a heathen.

To ensure you I'm not, here's a picture of baby Jesus...

And it's no surprise that they immediately had their favorite, and unfortunately it wasn't baby Jesus...

Do you see what Clara did the very first time she played with it? That's a cross ON Elmo. Or Bishop Elmo, as Ryan calls him. I obviously have a lot of catechizing still to do. 

And because I have discovered that craft projects help rid me of anxiety (and, conveniently, cleaning does not), I made a Christmas wreath today with the leftover felt...

Thanks to my sister-in-laws for showing me how to make the felt roses. And thanks to Clara and Luke for napping at the same time.

So we're finally mostly caught up, but even if we weren't, the babies sure don't mind. And hopefully they won't mind when I wrap their birthday presents for them to re-open on Christmas morning. Just kidding!

Kids are the clearest mirrors

It started slowly, with just a few phrases.

Oh, gosh. Is she saying what I think she's saying? Oh, wow. Where on earth does she get that from? Oh, man. Really?

Clara is my little mirror. Every phrase I say, she says. And every time I think that there's no possible way she's getting it from me - because, surely, that is just not something I say - I start to look for it and, sure enough, it's always something I say, and something I say a lot. (Especially "Oh, wow." I am trying to quit.)

Then there was the phase where she decided to "bite" her nails. She would walk around with her thumb in her mouth, not sucking it, but clearly imitating my nail-biting habit. Lovely.

I also can't forget how she yells at the dog when she barks, while wagging her little finger at her. She used to do that before she could even speak a word, just imitating my tone, something Luke is even doing now too.

And my personal favorite - when singing, she does a dramatic head shake as she holds the final note. I don't think I do this, but I must. And I can only hope it's when I'm joking around.

It's amazing how kids can show you yourself in ways you've never seen before. It's one part of parenting I didn't expect, but it's great for cutting back on those annoying things you say and do.

Sometimes, though, the insight is a little harsher.

So, I have been known to raise my voice around the house at times. I am trying very, very hard not to do this in front of the babies, but it's a work-in-progress.

And, when I happen to be yelling, Clara immediately breaks into "Hi, Mama! Hi, Mama! Hi, Mama!"

I know. It's heartbreaking. Don't worry, it doesn't happen often, although one time is one time too many.

The other day, though, I was talking to my husband about medications and not feeling so hot when Clara, sitting in her high chair, broke into her familiar "Hi, Mama! Hi, Mama!"

I was stunned, because I wasn't mad or arguing or yelling. "Mama's okay, Clara! It's okay!" I told her, knowing that she was, for some reason, trying to calm me down.

It happened again later that day in the car. I was telling my husband about something I saw on facebook when Clara, from the back seat, started yelling, "Hi, Mama! Hi, Mama!"

Oh, dear. I knew what was up.

"Do I sound like I'm yelling when I talk?" I asked Ryan.

"Well," he tread lightly. "You have been known to be mistaken for sounding angry when you say you aren't."

Oh my goodness, he was right. It's been at the root of many a fight between the two of us. On numerous occasions I have found myself trying to explain that I wasn't mad, or didn't mean something the way he took it. It was now all starting to make sense.

And, while I'm sure it's something that he's tried to bring up with me for years, when it comes from a child, there's no arguing with it. What better messenger can you have? She is pure and innocent, with no ulterior motives, and didn't even really know what she was doing. Her efforts to calm me down, when I wasn't even upset, spoke volumes.

I asked Ryan to explain to me what I sound like, and I asked him what he thought I could do to change. Seriously, it's weird when you think you talk like everyone else but apparently you don't. It's hard to know what to do differently!

He said it tends to happen when the topic is slightly negative, and suggested slowing down, talking a little quieter and a little sweeter. He even said to channel Mrs. Duggar!

I'm working on it. The last thing I want to do is have my daughter think her mother is mad all the time. It's one thing when she's old enough and I can just explain that I'm just passionate and animated, but right now the only thing that I can do is change. And change is probably a really good thing, anyway.

I'm sure this is only the start of my kids revealing my flaws, be it annoying sayings, mannerisms, or something much bigger. They've already made me a better person and this is just a continuation of that. And here I thought it was my job to get them into Heaven.

Anxiety and other hormonal issues

You know you've been blogging a while when you google a question about your cycle and the very first result is a fellow blogger's post about this topic from 2009 and you are the first commenter. I actually answered my own question, which I had long-ago forgotten the answer to. I gave myself medical advice online, from the past.

Anyways, the topic I was searching about was tail-end brown bleeding. I have it. And I hadn't had it in years. A blood test from September showed my progesterone was pretty low, but I've been on 100 mg prometrium since then, going up to 200 mg this month. But I didn't take it as early as I was supposed to because I wasn't charting. I thought I could just keep track in my head. I know, that's silly.

Let me back up. I went to my doctor, Dr. B, in September, at which time he tested my progesterone (it was low) and estradial (it was normal), along with my thyroid (it was normal, on my meds). I took home a saliva test kit for my adrenals, and completely expected them to be low. Turned out they're normal. Go figure! I was really counting on them being super low like two years ago because I partly credit the hydrocortisol with me conceiving. Not to mention feeling great. And the alternative, if my adrenals were normal, was that I needed to eat more protein and less carbs to curb my extreme afternoon fatigue. Ugh. I'd MUCH rather just take a pill.

I found out these results at a follow-up appointment with Dr. B a few days before Thanksgiving, at which time he also took a picture with my babies:

Clara is hard at work on the iPad... the only way I got through this appointment

I also mentioned to Dr. B that I was having anxiety. At that point it seemed to be only during the second two weeks of my cycle and so he increased the prometrium to help with that. I was to take 200 mg that cycle, 300 next cycle and 400 the next. That is, unless a lower dose did the trick.

So I started on the 200 and it seemed to be working. The anxiety was better, and I even had an instance where I spotted one single time and was totally and utterly convinced it was implantation bleeding. Seriously, will I never learn? I honestly think implantation bleeding is a huge myth, and in fact my husband's immediate response when I giddily told him that I was convinced an embryo was implanting as we spoke was, "Isn't implantation bleeding a myth?" Yes. Yes it is.

This time, when I eventually started a new cycle a couple days later, the anxiety returned. Along with some tail-end brown bleeding. I think I'm on day seven and have had the spotting (if you can even call it that) for about three days now. According to the comments from that post I found from two years ago, that is a sign of low progesterone from your previous cycle. So, that would mean, my progesterone was low even on 200 mg of prometrium. It helped my anxiety but not my hormones.

And now I'm left wondering why the anxiety is back, this time pre-ovulation. It seemed a lot neater and tidier when it was only during the two-week wait. Isn't progesterone supposed to be low now? Could there be other hormonal reasons for my anxiety?

In the meantime, to combat this uncontrollable worry, I'm trying to focus on those in need instead of myself, and there a lot of people in need. But I think that sometimes only increases my craziness.

Prayer Buddy, can you please say a prayer that this anxiety goes away? I'm driving everyone close to me nuts.

And any advice on low progesterone would be great, if anyone has any. Dr. B actually had mentioned injections, like I had during pregnancy, but I thought that seemed a bit extreme. Is it? Should I just continue with the plan to increase the prometrium by 100 mg each cycle until I (hopefully) find that it's working? Oh, and he also wrote me a prescription for prozac. He said he has seen it help women who are having anxiety due to hormonal imbalances. He said to hold on to the script and only fill it if the 400 mg of prometrium doesn't do the trick (which, at this rate, will be in February). I'm not a big fan of those types of medications (for me, personally), but he said it's much more closely tailored than when used for psychiatric purposes (and it's a tiny dose). I just really hoping I don't have to get to that point.

The babies go bananas

It's been a long birthday week. I've eaten one too many cupcakes for breakfast.

Saturday was the big (not really that big) double birthday bash for Clara and Luke. It went great (at least we thought so!) and both babies seemed to really have fun.

But why didn't anyone tell me that parties aren't really fun for the hostess? I was stressed! It wasn't too bad, but I will say that next time we'll order food. It's just hard to time everything exactly right and not spend the entire party at the stove.

Other than that, we had a great time and I hope everyone else did too.

It was a banana theme, simply because one day as I was trying to decide to what do, I asked Clara what she wanted the theme to be. Her immediate response was, "Nana," which either meant she wanted a party centered around her maternal grandmother, or bananas. I could have been way off base.

And, let's be honest, it was breakfast-time and she was just hungry, but since bananas are one of her absolute favorite things, we went with bananas. And I threw in monkeys for good measure.

First, the invitations...

Chocolate cupcakes (made with devil's food cake mix, sour cream, chocolate pudding and chocolate chips.. a little piece of heaven!)...

Monkey cake (banana cake with chocolate buttercream frosting)...

Birthday banners, one for Luke...

And another for Clara (they each match their bedrooms, where they'll soon take up permanent residence)...

The banners also match their birthday shirts...

And let's not forget the birthday tutu...

That thing held up surprisingly well! It even survived a lot of running and playing outside.

Party favors...

...which served a dual purpose in the banana toss game...

Recognize either of these little monkeys?...

Messy babies...

Lucy, hard at work in the kitchen...

Getting some work done during the party...

Clara, opening a present from Grandma and Grandpa...

Lukie, having fun with one of his buddies...

We were so happy and so blessed to be able to celebrate our two babies with our family (who made the trip up from NC!) and friends.

I'm still decompressing over here. Although now that birthday week is over, it's time bring on the Christmas season! There just won't be any projects. I'll be relaxing during naps for a while.

Two years ago

Two years ago tonight was like any other night for me back then. Painful, and worse yet, uneventful. I was on the verge of losing all hope.

The day before, a Monday, we had been visiting my brother-in-law in New York City. We had spent Thanksgiving with my parents and had stopped to see him for a couple days on our way through.

We headed back to Richmond that cold evening in the dark and our future seemed just as dim. We had been trying to have a baby for more than five years and I was convinced it was never going to happen. We were hoping and praying to adopt, but our agency's waiting list was at a stand still. And with how terribly painful each day had become at that point - each day I wasn't living out my vocation as a mother - telling me that we'd maybe be picked to parent a baby in a year or two might as well have been forever.

Little did we know how drastically our lives would change course early that next morning.

Hours after we returned home (and had eaten take-out Chinese food in which my fortune read "It's always darkest before the dawn"), in the early morning hours of December 1, 2009, a little baby girl was delivered while we slept, many miles away at a hospital in Louisiana. She was a surprise at only 30 weeks into her birthmother's pregnancy and her arrival - which took, by the account in her hospital paperwork, just a few minutes - was as quick as she was small. She weighed in at just three pounds, two ounces.

She would spend the next four weeks, exactly, in the NICU, where, I can imagine, she must have surpassed all expectations. She was released six weeks before her due date (weighing more than her birth weight) and she was breathing and eating and nestling her way into the hearts of the nurses right from the start.

I know this because I have exchanged emails with an angel of a nurse. I won't give her name, but I will say it's a three-letter word that I hoped and prayed for, and what my daughter finally truly brought me. I love her name.

That nurse with the most perfect name - who was hoping and praying to be blessed with a baby herself - saw something in that tiny baby who didn't have anyone keeping vigil at her bedside, what I'm sure was in stark contrast to all other NICU babies that Christmas season. She looked forward to coming to work every day to nurse that sweet baby back to health, even singing to her and giving her a name that only she called her.

If I had to pick someone to take my place before I could be there, I'd want it to be someone who knew that longing that only we know. Someone who had so much love to give. I don't think it was a coincidence.

That December I begged God, like I always did, to grow our family. But this time I sat and prayed every single day in a rocking chair in our office - with its bright red walls defiantly saying "I am not a nursery" - precisely because it would be our nursery. I wanted to maintain some ounce of hope. I wanted to pray my baby into existence in the room that he or she would sleep in.

I had no idea she was already in existence. My prayers had already been answered, I was already a mother, and I believe my constant prayers that Advent were ushered right to her. I couldn't be at her bedside, but the spot where I rocked and prayed every day would eventually become her bedside. I don't believe that was a coincidence either.

We met her when she was five weeks old, weighing just under five pounds. She was a miracle, not only because she was completely and totally healthy despite being born ten weeks early, but because she had somehow, against all odds, found her way to us, a couple in Virginia who had lost almost all hope.

That Tuesday, two years ago today, seemed uneventful to us. As we went about our day, we had no idea that our daughter, the person who would change us forever, was breathing her first breaths.

It turns out that day was the farthest thing from uneventful. It was a life-altering, earth-shattering day, despite what we saw with our own eyes.

It was our sweet Clara Therese's birthday.

It was the day I became a mother, even though I had absolutely no idea. God was working a miracle as I sat and cried to Him. He was bringing into existence a special soul and Our Lady was nursing her to health, with the help of a dear NICU nurse who loved her in my place.

That Advent we watched and waited for Our Lord, and for a family, like we had done five Advents before. And despite the darkness that had set in, out Christmas was right around the corner.

Words can not express how much we love you, Clara, and how much joy you have brought to our lives. Happy two years, baby girl.

Clara's kitchen

We've been a little busy lately, but it was well worth it...

Clara got her early birthday present - a play kitchen! She's actually known about it for months. She was calling it her "kitchen" since it was an old wood entertainment center. 

And here's what it looked like as that old entertainment center, when we got it for free - FREE! - off of Craigslist. And, of course, here's the "after" too...

A lot of work was put into it and I have my wonderful, patient, amazing, kind, generous husband to thank for that.

Oh, that picture brings back memories of when we were young and naive and didn't realize what we were in for.

Just kidding, but it was a ton of work. Did I already mention that??

None of that mattered, though, when we showed her the finished project. There was lots of woooooow's and oooooooh's.

And she plays with it constantly, just like I hoped.

She loves cooking with the food and pots and pans that her Nana and Boppy got her for her birthday...

And she'll get even more play food tomorrow on her birthday. So fun!

So here are some of the details...

I got the idea from other play kitchens I saw online, and set out to do one myself. You really can't follow any sort of pattern, though, because every entertainment center (or end table, cabinet, or whatever old piece of furniture you use) is different. So we winged it. And, I should add, neither of us are particularly skilled in this department. The painting I can handle, but the construction? Not so much. But we plowed through.

First we sanded down the veneer, and primed. Then we did about a million other steps.

I debated getting a real faucet (you can get small ones made for campers or bars), but in the end we decided to go a little more whimsical. I found a $0.30 letter "U" on clearance and we cut it to be the perfect faucet. The base is a $0.50 piece of craft wood and we painted both that and the faucet with silver paint. The handles are drawer pulls, which cost about $4 each...

The sink is a mixing bowl we already had. We just cut a hole for it to sit in.

The burners are just craft wood, which I painted. And the knobs are more drawer pulls...

The oven opens out and there's an LED light inside. The oven rack is actually one of those things you put in your sink, held on with hooks. I tried cooling racks but couldn't find the right size.

I painted a window on a $0.50 piece of wood and made little curtains. The hooks are a key rack (and the adorable pig whisk and spatula are actually real utensils, although I'm not sure who needs ones that small!).

We had to make a door for the fridge (and the oven), which was one of the most complicated parts of the project...

You never know what you'll find in the fridge...

We really don't have any idea what the total cost was, but suffice it to say it was way cheaper than if we had bought one. And if we had bought it, we wouldn't have been able to take advantage of all that problem-solving we had to work through as a couple... and our kids wouldn't have had to fend for themselves all those weekend days... and our deck wouldn't be covered in paint. Haha.. no, really. There is no price we could put on watching Clara and Luke play with this kitchen. Worth every second.

Happy early second birthday, sweet Clara. And don't expect a big homemade tool bench or anything next year, Lukie. Mommy and Daddy are tapped out.