Monday, December 24, 2012

And The Soul Felt It's Worth

This is the story of the birth of our son Isaac Burton Hertzog.

Monday Night, December 10th, we put our children to bed at home around at 9:00 pm, and were excited to go up into bed, and rest and enjoy a movie. I had spent all day cleaning the house, and doing a last minute grocery shopping and other various errands, knowing the time was near. Ray, the painter was still in our home, but only had one more day to finish up the painting job we had contracted him for.

My husband and I laid down in bed, and no sooner had we gotten comfortable, the room completely still and quiet when be both heard a quiet "pop". And, Oh! my Goodness! My water just broke!
I never imagined in a million years that would happen, since it is very rare that water would break before contractions start. But, it can happen, and so it was written. I jumped out of bed and into our bathroom and checked the color of the fluid. Cloudy clear, perfect... no blood, or brown. So, we made 2 phone calls, one to my Mother, who was our person to come and sit with the kids if we needed her to, and to The Birth Center, where we planned to have this baby naturally.

The midwives told us normally they would have us come in to do a stress test, since our water broke spontaneously, and there weren't any contractions. But, she went through a check list of things (water clear, my temperature, baby moving) and I met all of them, so she was comfortable letting me rest and labor at home until the famous 4-1-1. (contractions 4 minutes apart, and 1 minute long for at least 1 hour). She told me to get my support person there, to eat, rest, and if nothing happens then to come in the next morning at 8:30 am (my scheduled appointment).



About one hour later the contractions started coming, pretty regularly, about 2 -3 minutes apart, but only about 40 seconds long. I ate a sandwich, and my Mom came. We chatted a bit, and then Phil and I went upstairs to rest. And, by rest I mean me anxiously folding laundry, packing a bag, and any other last minute details I could think of. About 2am, I got a string of Christmas lights and strung them in our bathroom, and got in the bath, for a nice long jacuzzi. I was feeling more anxious than anything so I tried to relax and listen to the Hypo Birthing CD I had. It helped in relaxing a little... so much so that the contractions slowed down to about 6 - 8 minutes between, so I tried to sleep. I did manage to catnap a bit and my Husband fell asleep.



About 5:30 am, I got up, made some coffee, and an oatmeal smoothie. At 6am, I awoke my oldest daughter Sofia, to get her ready for school and the bus which picks her up at 6:40. I told her that my water broke last night and today would probably be the day her brother was born. I doubt she got anything done in school that day. at 6:30 am, Ray the painter came, and I told him I was in labor, but it was best if he stayed and finished up his last day of work, since we were heading in to the Birth Center anyway. He made some jokes and talked shop while I tried to smile through contractions, which at this point were still pretty irregular. After Sofia was safely on the bus, and Emma was in my Mothers care, Phil and I enjoyed breakfast together, and then packed up the car and headed over. Both of us sleepy but excited that today was the day we would get to meet our son.

On the way to the Birth Center I listened to John Legend sing Oh Holy Night. The most beautiful rendition I have ever heard. I cried a bit in joy, thinking of my son being born, and the words of that song just moved me so deeply.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wo1zJy3Zib0


We arrived at The Birth Center at 8:30 am checked in, and I weighed myself and did a urine analysis. I was 2 1/2 lbs. lighter than my last prenatal appointment the week prior which I imagine was due to losing most of the amniotic fluid. Although, there was some still coming out in dribs and drabs, which meant constant wet panties and pants. This was really the only thing making me uncomfortable at this point as the contractions had all but subsided.

Ann the midwife gave the baby a stress test and he was doing wonderfully with heart rate consistent at about 140 BPM's. On paper my contractions looked pretty strong, although I wasn't too uncomfortable. They decided to admit me. The rule in The Birth Center is that I have 24 hours from the time my water breaks to be in active labor. Active labor means that I should be 4.5 centimeters - 6 centimeters dilated with contractions coming every 3-4 minutes, for more than 1 minute in length, consistently. If my labor did not progress to that point by 9:30 pm that evening, I would be transported to the hospital for pitocin and other artificially induced measures for helping things along.

Ok Baby, we got this.

Since the contractions had subsided a bit, we started off with a bit of nipple stimulation. I would have liked to use a more natural method, but they preferred we use a breast pump. :) That started working very quickly, and within minutes it seemed my contractions were stronger than ever. Unfortunately this only seemed to last as long as I was pumping, and eventually they seemed to die down again. The midwives suggested that we use Castor Oil, which is an age-old trick, and the most effective. Although the nasty side effect is that the oil does more than just pump contractions out of you. UGH. Not sure I wanted to go there yet. The Midwives decide to just let me go on my own, and see how things happen. They checked my cervix for the first time, and it was 4 1/2 centimeters dilated.

This is where I noticed something amazing happening. The contractions, well, they hurt. There was no way around it. They sucked balls, actually. But I started to notice that in between contractions I was feeling like a million bucks. It wasn't just the absence of pain in that sort of negative space, although I am sure that helped some too, but my brain was releasing endorphins putting me in a very "feel good" place. At one point I compared the feelings to Opiates. Not that I would know what that was like. But, I imagined it was like this. Amazing that God gives you everything you need to cope with the process He designed.

Around 2:30pm , with contractions still coming and going we decided we would take a walk to the Wawa to get a change of scenery, and see if that got things going more consistently. The end goal in mind was to purchase a milk shake, and if the contractions didn't come on their own, then we would use castor oil  in the milk shake. The Wawa walk is the highlight of the experience. I can only imagine how fantastic we looked walking up County Line Road in Bryn Mawr, inch by inch, me looking wild, with crazy hair and pregnant as all get out, as my graceful Husband held my arm, and patiently waited every 20 feet as I moaned through a contraction. They were pretty intense. But the problem was they weren't coming consistently enough, I guess. Once we were at Wawa, I told my Husband I couldn't possibly go inside and be laboring in the Wawa, so I waited out front, while he procured the milkshake. At least 2 people asked me if I was OK, and could they help in some way. "Don't worry" I tried to smile "This is all part of the Birth Plan!"
The walk took approximately an hour.

Once back at the Birth Center, contractions once again started to subside. I asked what else I could do in lieu of Castor Oil, and Cheyenne my Midwife, suggested I walk up and down the stairs, lunging at each contraction. I did this for approximately 45 minutes. It was exhausting.

Once back at our suite, I asked the Midwife to check me again, and unfortunately we were still only at 4 1/2 centimeters. I instantly became discouraged. The time was now 5:00pm, and I was only 4 1/2 hours away from being transported to the hospital. We had been laboring for 19 hours.

Finally, I asked to be given the Castor Oil. Cheyenne poured it in the milkshake, and I sucked it down.

For the next hour, contractions felt stronger but were still not coming in in the magic 4-1-1 ratio. I was so discouraged, and I believe at this point I hit a wall. I was in and out of the bath, which seemed to help some, and my labor was so intense in my lower back my sweet Husband put pressure on my lower spine, which seemed to help a bit. But nothing made the pain subside.

Around 7:00 pm I started bargaining with everyone. I wanted to go to the hospital. I don't know what my goal was, except maybe just to get this baby out as fast as possible. And to make the pain stop. I actually asked the nurse for a diaper (in case the Castor Oil kicked in on the ride to the hospital), and could we start packing our bags and get going? I believe that if someone would have offered a C-Section on the spot I would have taken it. This is the power of birthing in a Birth Center instead of the hospital, because when you take intervention off the table, you give your body the awesome power it needs to do it's own job it's own way.

Cheyenne and my Husband both talked me out of my plan. They convinced me that the Castor Oil takes about 2 hours, and let's just work through this since we still had 2 1/2 more hours until the dreaded 9:30 cut-off. I agreed, and Cheyenne left the room to give my Husband and I privacy.

It was at this point that I got in the bath and just completely lost my faith. I asked my Husband to pray, and I will never forget his beautiful prayer as we sat in the dark under the glow of the candles, tears streaming down my cheeks into the bathwater - him holding my hand, and asking God for reprieve and strength. I just remember thinking, I know exactly what is going to happen. Nothing. They are going to come in and check me, and I will still be 4 1/2 centimeters. It will be 2 more hours of this awful hell, and then I will have to take the awful car ride to the hospital. Then, they will give me pitocin, which will make everything hurt 100 times worse. The baby won't fare well, and then I will have to have a C-Section, ruining every chance of a future vaginal birth. I just felt defeated, and sure that this would not turn out the way I hoped. 22 hours into this thing... and I had lost my hope. I just thank God that my amazing Husband stepped in, and took over for us, rubbing my back in the bath and whispering words of encouragement. Praying, and holding my hand.

After a while the contractions started coming on even stronger, and I wanted to get out of the bath. As I did, I violently vomited for several minutes. The Castor Oil was starting to work, and my Husband again was there to step in, holding a humungous bowl under me with my strong arm, and my hair with the other tender arm.

From this point on things get a little hazy... I just remember telling my Husband that at this point, I wasn't laboring, but laboring was happening to me. Meaning, I had no control over my body or what was happening, just that something intense and forceful was taking over. I know there were loud sounds, a lot of pacing, and very intense breathing. I tried to draw from my years of Bikram yoga experience, and breathing through the contractions did help some. Also, I remembered my Mother in Law mentioning to find a focal point, and so I did, and that also helped. It was around 8:30 when this intense part of labor started taking over. I know I asked to be alone at one point, and I basically just paced in the bathroom, afraid I would have to use the toilet, but also, not able to respond to anyone's questions or comments. Every now and again I would hear my Husband in the background encouraging me, and telling me my body is doing exactly what it was supposed to be doing. That helped me.

The Lord answered our prayer. Around 8:45 I got back in the bath, and then suddenly I felt the intense desire to push. I told my Husband to call the Midwives. They came in immediately. They told me not to get out of the bath, and checked me in the water. Cheyenne said "Yep, 10 centimeters, and I can feel your baby's head!" With help I got out of the bath, and I recall my Midwife on one side drying me off, and my Husband on the other. One thing about natural child birth: shame, expectations, and even dignity go right out the window. You are just a woman walking on a path, and there is only one way to the other side and that is through it. No one else can do it for you, and you are just as vulnerable as can be. The only thing more vulnerable than laboring I suppose, is being born, in which you have absolutely no control. I am glad I could advocate for my son, and let my body do what it knew how to do, even if it took a little longer than I would have liked.

Suddenly stuff was just happening. Sheets and pads were being thrown on the bed, a nurse was coming into the room with equipment, and my Husband was escorting me over to the Queen size bed. My Midwife asked me which position I would like to try pushing in, and I chose to be on my back. I asked for some direction, and she told me to put my arms under my thighs and pull back, relax my shoulders, and with every contractions to push with every single muscle cell in my body. And that is what I did. It felt intensely strange to feel a child moving up the birth canal, and within 5 pushes, this baby was out. When the shoulders emerged, the nurse gave me a shot of pitocin in my thigh, just because my hemoglobin had been low.

It was absolutely incredible to feel my body take over and become the strongest thing I had ever seen, heard of or known. I delivered my beautiful baby boy into this world and cried tears of joy as he took his first breaths. I remember a wave of peace washing over me because he looked beautiful and healthy, and also because it was over. The midwives immediately laid him on my chest, and did not take him off for the next hour or more.



They waited about 10 minutes until the cord stopped pulsating, and then my Husband cut the cord. My baby immediately started belly crawling up my stomach and rooting for the breast. He took immediately. The placenta came and then the after birth contractions, and I felt wonderful. The best thing I can equate this to was running a marathon. While you are in it, it sucks balls. But at the end of the race you feel incredibly proud, and you know you just did something of great importance and intensely beautiful.



They finally weighed him and he was a healthy 8 lbs. 3 oz. and 20 inches long. He had the biggest, most beautiful feet, and Phil's hammer toe. He looked just like me and Phil. We named him Isaac Burton Hertzog. We were in our Glory. We both prayed and thanked God for deliverance, and then the Midwife and Nurse left us all alone as a family.



Around midnight, we tried to get some rest, but I felt too excited and nervous to leave my boy in the bassinet aside me. So, I nursed him in the rocking chair, and kept him on my chest most of the night and monitored his breathing.

The next morning, elated, we were allowed to go home. It was amazing to be able to spend those first few days in the intimacy and privacy of our own home. My new son never left my arms from practically the minute he was born. He is currently breastfeeding on demand, and thriving and doing beautifully.

I can't speak highly enough of my experience at The Birth Center, and I highly recommend it to any woman who wishes to experience natural child birth. I plan on having any future babies there as well.



A thrill of hope the weary world rejoices,
For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn.
Fall on your knees! Oh, hear the angel voices! 






Led by the light of faith serenely beaming,
With glowing hearts by His cradle we stand.
O'er the world a star is sweetly gleaming,
Now come the wisemen from out of the Orient land.
The King of kings lay thus lowly manger;
In all our trials born to be our friends.
He knows our need, our weakness is no stranger, 




Truly He taught us to love one another,
His law is love and His gospel is peace.
Chains he shall break, for the slave is our brother.
And in his name all oppression shall cease. 



Sweet hymns of joy in grateful chorus raise we,
With all our hearts we praise His holy name.
Christ is the Lord! Then ever, ever praise we,
His power and glory ever more proclaim! 

Oh, Fall on your knees! Oh, hear the angel voices! 

Sunday, August 19, 2012

Letting Go

A week ago I had the house of my dreams at my fingertips.
And, more so, I had a sense of control over our future, where we would be raising up this brood of ours, and a general peace in planting permanent roots.

Now, all of that is slipping away.

I feel silly writing about this, as there are very dire things happening in the world. Children being sold into slavery, Families being persecuted because of religious beliefs, famine, war, and sickness.
These are the things that require my prayer, daily.

But, still, we prayed to be lead by our God, and we felt He had released us to make a decision about this house. We did. We felt peace wash over us, as we began to prepare our family and lives for a replanting.

Then, the house inspection showed various things that would deem the house unlivable, without remediation. $20,000 worth of things. Money that we neither have, nor would care to spend if we did.

We haven't completely pulled the plug, as we are going to give the Sellers the opportunity to right this. (they did not fully disclose some of the items in their disclosure). If they remediate the items at full cost, we will move forward.

The chances of that happening are so slim, by anyone's standards, that we might as well expect a full remediation of the Philadelphia School system this coming year.

In the interim, I can feel God preparing my heart for the great unknown once again. He is asking me to let go. It is painful. I am not just letting go of the house, but of the stability, peace, and future lives that we tacked to that house. But, aha, once again these were OUR plans.

We believe in a sovereign Lord. We begged Him that if this was not the place He would have us raise up our family that He shut the door quickly. Whether He is responding, or the Seller's just acted irresponsibly, is still out to jury.

I spent the day clearing out all the clutter in our tiny 1,000 square foot townhouse. If God should not have us move forward, then we will furlough our search, and prepare where we our for our tiny little baby to arrive in 3 months. Families all over the world would literally DIE to own 1,000 square feet to provide safety and comfort for their enormous families. So what if we are 2 adults, 2 small children, a newborn, a dog, a cat and 3 hermit crabs. We are here, we are safe, we are living under our means, and babies love small spaces anyhow. :)

The Lord has taught me to stand in the season of where we are, not where we want to be. Also, He has taught me that His Grace is enough.

So today, on this Sunday, I am letting go of my desire to move forward with that big, beautiful, fancy, fabulous, well-situated, Victorian, stone house. Also, i am letting go of my desire to craft my plans over the next 3 months. Lord, we give it all to You, and we beg You to have Your way with it.






Thursday, August 9, 2012

Infidelity

A long awaited impending truth is finally showing it's ugly face.

In September of 2010 I wrote this blog.

http://fourfishfeet.blogspot.com/2010/09/love-triangle.html#links

In recent events, it has become exposed that a couple near and dear to me have fallen victim to the dark and ungodly forces that can plague the human spirit, and in this instance, an entire family. We're not just talking about infidelity here, but about lies, and double lives, and the hurting of so many on so many different levels, that even as a bystander I am having trouble sorting through the pain.

All I know is this:

We are broken people, who become the product of our parents broken choices. If we do not work very hard to resolve that through Grace, then we will expose our children to the same lies, and acts of injustice that were done to us. It is a cyclical generational curse, that only through our own salvation can be repaired.

Tuesday, June 12, 2012

On Death

Daddy and Mamma married barefoot in the living room.
Mamma was beautiful, Daddy was stoned.

Daddy didn't know too much about making money
So he learned how to beat the casinos.
That worked for a while.

Then, when he became too much to bare,  (I was eight years old),  Mamma dreamed of another life.
She left Daddy.
Daddy begged me to move West with him.

When I close my eyes and remember my childhood -

I can hear the *bing bing bing* of the casino
I can smell the recirculated air.
I can feel the heavy bucket in my hand

Maybe my stomach turns - remembering those long drives cross-country in a UHAUL. Vegas, Back East, Reno, Back East. I used to get car sick.

Apartment living. Five schools by the Sixth grade. New friends. Dirty Dresses. I never could fit in.
My Best friend was the original Nintendo. By 7 years old, I had beat Super Mario Brothers forward and backwards. No one to play with.

Once, I invited all the neighborhood kids into the house and they stole all of Daddy's $2. bills. I told them where to find them. I was tired of being alone.
We just moved. again.

Then, Poverty.

When Daddy couldn't afford an apartment anymore, he lived in the casinos.
And, I lived with any kind hearted friends willing to take care of me.
Fortunately for me, I learned Korean. And, Russian.

As an adult, Daddy was mad.

He was Mad at Mamma. Mad at his parents. Mad that I went to a "Liberal" University. Mad I moved to Italy. Mad that I had a Baby. Mad that I wasn't Jewish. Mad that I didn't respect him, didn't need him, didn't love him. ENOUGH. Mad. No. Matter. What. I. Did.

He still didn't have a job. Didn't have anyone to love. Poor Health. Aggressive.
But, he put all of his money into beating the casinos. And now, the Stock Market.

He hit on all of my friends. Asked them to come to the casino with them.
He hired a 29 year old Russian prostitute, to be his girlfriend.

He pushed everyone in his life away. He claimed he found God, but I didn't believe him.

When my baby grew up, Daddy tried to control her, like he controlled me as a child. I did everything I could to protect her.

Daddy sued me.

He told the court that he had a right to spend as much time as he wanted with his blood grandchild.
They threw Daddy out of the courtroom.
I almost lost my house to Lawyers fees.

I haven't spoken to my Father in a year.
He spends all of his time telling everyone who will listen how much he is mad at me.

Someone told me the other day:

"You will be sorry when he dies."

______________________________________________


That might be true. From where I stand, I cannot tell you what I will feel when that day comes.
But, I tend to think I will feel relief.

I have been grieving the slow and inevitable death of my Father for years. I am bereft of a Father.

There is a gaping whole in my heart where there should be: a hug, and advice. Words of endearment. Wiping tears from my cheeks. Encouragement. Helping me move into my new house. Guidance. A dance at my wedding. Rocking my baby on his knee. ..  Loving me. A Father's love.

When he dies, his suffering will end.


I will never have the Father I have been longing for my entire life.
But God grant him peace and an end to his suffering.

Yes, at my Father's funeral I will rejoice.










And Then There Were Five

For as long as a pregnancy lasts, a Mother waits in anxious anticipation. Quietly (or not so quietly) counting the weeks, hours, minutes until that little baby is to arrive and meet the world for the very first time.


A lot has happened in our little family over the last year. God is really working out the identity of who we are, and who we are to be to fully tell His story.


On Good Friday (after a period of fasting, and repentance) on a hunch, I took a pregnancy test. We were shocked and in awe that it was positive. I spent the better part of the first trimester in disbelief, and now it is becoming real to me. In December, we will be a family of five. God providing, God willing.



Our lives are a story. The story begins the very moment we are conceived and God begins knitting us together perfectly in our Mother's womb. We draw breath, and then that story continues until our last breath. The bookends of our lives here on earth contain so much possibility - the is, the was, and the everything.

I am in awe that everything my little child is to become, he already is. I stand in wonder that his gender, his identity, his DNA, his features, gifts, abilities, talents, fears, and the arc of his entire life all are already defined. He will have choices... many... but who he was always meant to be, he is.


In the last 18 months, since God presented me with the greatest gift I was to ever receive - which was my calling - I have been stretching and growing in every capacity. It is not always easy, being a Mother, a Wife, an Employee, a Family Member, a Friend. Lately, my identity feels a bit mixed up. Who am I first? Who am I last? How am I to fit all those identities within the 24 hours of a day? But I am learning, that who I am first, is a Daughter. Who I am first, is who God created me to be, and that is in the likeness of Him. This is an arduous journey, and every step matters. It is survival, but it is so much more than that. 

Now, 11 months after the beginning of what I so affectionately coined "The Chaos Period" the dust has begun to settle. I am learning to love my Husband as a part of myself. Learning to lean on him as the head of our family, and allowing our unit to settle into our rightful places. We are all learning to be a part of something greater than us. It isn't always graceful. There are tears, and tempers, and resistance and grit as we figure out where we fit in, and in some cases, unlearn what we thought we were wired for.
I mess up. A lot. My expectations are high, and my energy levels are low, and that doesn't always give me the tools to be gracious, as we work vehemently to keep the day fitted around our too tight schedules, while we manage our children, their interactions, their relationships, and our own.

But we are here. By God's Grace. And I have to remind myself often that we are not just managing the logistics and operations of little lives, but we are raising human beings, who are also in God's image. Since the moment Phil and I became Phil and I, we knew that we wanted to try for a large family. We trusted God to lead us, and we have to remind ourselves daily to continue to trust in Him to lead us, and provide for us, and call us to actively unfold the story of who we are.