Ava is a wonderful sleeper, as long as she’s being held.  Last night I made my first legitimate attempt to have her sleep in her cradle.  I cried as I lay down without her in my arms.  Two hours later, I was more than happy to pick her up when she started to stir, and kept her with me the rest of the night.

I love having her curl up against me.

I love resting my cheek on her warm, fuzzy head.

I love seeing her precious little face contort into some of the most endearing expressions, as only a newborn’s does.

I love watching her as she stares with wide eyes at the newness of the world around her.

I love that, already, just being in her mama’s arms is often all it takes to make her calm.

Yes, I am smitten.

Before the details get too fuzzy, I thought I should write about Ava’s birth.  My due date was September 1st, which came and went uneventfully.  On Wednesday, the 5th, I noticed a small amount of fluid leaking.  I called my midwife to let her know, but also realized that a slow leak did not mean labor was imminent.  My midwife wasn’t at all concerned (I kind of think she wasn’t convinced that it was amniotic fluid and not something else) and told me to just let her know if anything changed.

So, I waited through Wednesday, Thursday and Friday of leaking fluid (not a lot, but it did pick up a bit on Friday).  I had about an hour of contractions, 10 minutes apart, Thursday night, but they fizzled into nothingness and I continued waiting.  By Friday night, I felt like I was reaching the end of my rope.  While my midwife wasn’t concerned about the leaking fluid, it did make me feel like I was running out of time, given the potential for infection that apparently comes when the amniotic sac is at all torn.  So, when I went to bed around 10pm, I was desperate for something to happen.

Shortly after laying down, I had my first contraction.  I waited through about 3 hours of contractions 10 minutes apart before I called my midwife.  I got up and showered and walked around a bit and tried watching a movie in that time, wanting to make sure this was the real deal and not something that was going to stop or slow way down, something that I felt sure was going to happen, since that was how my previous two labors had progressed.

When I did call my midwife, I think I failed to communicate that I actually thought this was active labor, and she told me they (she had another midwife who was coming with her) weren’t going to leave right away, but to call her back in 2 hours, or sooner if anything changed.  I was a bit discouraged by her response, and became hesitant to call back over anything that might seem insignificant (it was the middle of the night, and I have a really hard time with anything I perceive to be confrontational).

So, I continued laboring, I showered (for the second time) and eventually timed my contractions again and found they were now more like five minutes apart.  Tim called the midwife again (just slightly less than 2 hours after the first call) and this time she decided they should start their 4.5 hr trip to our house.  It was about 3:30am.  Tim then called a friend who had agreed to help with odds and ends during labor, and she arrived a short while later.

During the course of the next few hours I spent some time in a birth pool, which offered little relief, and took, I think, 2 more showers.  At some point, it became probable that the baby would arrive before the midwives, and when the contractions had gotten to be less than 2 minutes apart and excruciating, my friend decided she would give her mom, who is a nurse, a call to see if she could come help, just in case.

There was apparently a very distinct point right at the end at which the contractions seemed to be non-stop, although my recollection was just that the last couple hours were more than I thought I could bear, and so with each contraction, I was telling myself that I just had to get through this one.

Tim was there doing anything I asked, wiping my face with a cold cloth (I was sooo warm), making sure my water glass moved with me wherever I went , and occasionally, holding me up during a contraction when I felt like I didn’t have strength to stand.  My friend became the liaison with the midwives and kept track of time between contractions and did anything else that needed doing…probably far more than either of us thought would be necessary when I asked her to help out.

In general, there was little that seemed to really “help” me in the overall process.  I mostly needed to retreat inside myself and not have interruptions or distractions as I moaned loudly through the contractions.  There was a portion of a song that kept going through my mind, especially toward the end, that did offer me peace, though (which I found surprising, since I think normally it would have just seemed distracting)…beautiful Jesus, beautiful Savior, nothing is greater, brilliant Creator, friend of mine.  I think, in those moments, it just gave me peace to be reminded that this was the design of the Creator, and that He was my friend…caring for me and protecting me and strengthening me when I felt at my weakest and most helpless.

And so, I made it through the worst of the contractions until I came to a point when I felt like I needed to push.  Tim compelled me to lay down (he didn’t like the idea of the baby hitting the floor if he was unsuccessful in his task of “catching”), my water broke (apparently…I was oblivious at this point), my friend’s mother arrived, and about 2 pushes later, a baby came out all at once.

In the midst of Tim trying to clear the amniotic sac away from the baby’s head and get a warm towel wrapped around baby, I asked whether we had a boy or girl.  He looked briefly and said he thought he saw boy parts, but didn’t investigate further.  Somehow, that seemed good enough for a verdict, and with the baby on my chest, covered in a towel, we proceeded to cajole cries and rub “pinkness” into our new baby.  Holly came down with the other four kiddos (who, it seems, all woke up minutes prior to the birth) and we introduced them to their new “brother”.  Bethany seemed particularly disappointed that she did not have a sister, and I tried to console her with the fact that it was something pretty special to be the only girl among four boys…but it didn’t really seem to work.

Shortly after the kids headed back upstairs to start getting ready for the day, Tim asked if anybody had thought to verify that we actually did have a boy, and since nobody had, we took the opportunity to do so.  After a little confusion with the belly button (which was quite the “outie” because of the umbilical cord) we realized that, lo and behold, we had a girl!  Ava Grace Ruehle – life; unmerited favor.

Tim set about re-informing those who had already been told it was a boy, Bethany was thrilled, and we both later confessed to having felt a bit thrown-off when we thought it was a boy.  In our hearts, we had both really felt that we were having a girl, and though a boy would certainly have been welcomed and loved just as much, we were confused at how we could possibly have had a boy.  In some way, I think the confusion was good for me, though.  I had thought, in a lot of ways, that having another boy would just be easier, so I am thankful that I had a moment to really recognize how “right” it felt to have a baby girl.

So, after all that, about an hour after the birth, the midwives arrived.  She delivered the placenta, checked Ava’s height and weight – 8lbs 3oz, 19.5″ (she may have weighed more at the time of her birth, since she had relieved her bowels no less than 3 times before she got weighed) – and checked me for tears and such (just one tear that did not require any stitched).  I showered and while I ate some breakfast and held my baby girl, everyone started cleaning up, doing laundry, putting things away.

I was home and I was happy to be home.  It certainly wasn’t ideal that the midwife didn’t arrive sooner, but everything went incredibly smoothly, nonetheless…and since she was there to take care of those things for which she was really needed, in light of the fact that the birth was uncomplicated, I can’t really complain at all.  Once again, God proved His faithfulness and provision and care.  He is good.

For I know the thoughts I think toward you, says the Lord, thoughts of peace and not of evil, to give you an expected end. —Jeremiah 29:11

When I am impatient, when I think I know best, when I forget that God is always good…He reminds me that I can trust Him.  So, even though it is my “due” date, even though I am really uncomfortable, even though the unknowns of labor threaten to unravel my resolve at times…I can find peace in knowing that He has the best plan.

Our days are looking very disjointed these days, but here is some of the randomness…

…on and off schoolwork.  I think we’ve been accomplishing what amounts to about 2 days of school each week for the past month and a half.  It’s not what I had hoped for, but it’s adding up enough to give me a little buffer when the baby comes.

…Elijah deciding in the past 2 days that he wants to start using the potty.  Not the best timing, but we’ll see how it goes.

…random housework on my part and attempts to get children to do the more “normal” things like vacuuming and dusting.  Not the most effective combination, but it’s the best I can manage with little sleep, a huge belly, and persistent nausea.

…piles of cucumbers accumulating, making the necessity of pickle-making loom ever larger on my list of to-do’s.

…attempts to have special moments with each of my kids.  As always at the end of pregnancy, I feel a twinge of guilt at how much of my time a new baby will take away from the older kids, and it makes me sad.

…hunting flies.  We’ve gotten a lot of them in our house lately (could have something to do with the less-than-airtight quality the back of our house currently possesses) and they are really annoying.  Thankfully, successfully killing flies seems to offer a great sense of accomplishment for my kiddos.

…watching cooking shows.  Just because.

…waiting.  As much as I know I shouldn’t be impatient yet, I am.  I lack motivation for most things that should probably get done, and I just want to be past the unpleasantness and “unknown” of labor, with a baby to care for and the opportunity to figure out how life will work with 7 of us.

Today, Nathanael turns 5.  I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how easy he was as a baby and toddler.  From the time he was a newborn, while he didn’t sleep for great stretches at night, he was easily consoled.  I remember him waking up 2 or 3 times a night (sometimes more), but after nursing for 10 minutes or so, he would be right back to sleep.  No hours of trying to get him back to sleep, no fussing for no apparent reason.   When he got a little older, he would entertain himself with rolling matchbox cars across the floor, sometimes for an hour or longer.  He was often content to just sit on a lap and snuggle (hence the nickname of Snuggle-bug, which has since been shortened to just Bug).

And he is still a very affectionate and pensive little boy…he sits close and expects an arm around him, he takes his time giving answers and making choices.  He still is often content entertaining himself, although he does also really like someone else nearby.

As he gets older, though, more aspects of his personality come through, too.  He loves being outside.  He empties our compost bucket in the morning, and routinely investigates every garden thoroughly before heading inside.  He’s not afraid of getting dirty, or catching bugs, or getting a few scrapes here and there.

He is excited about school and learning.  He doesn’t have as much of the scientific bent that his older brother and sister have, but he does have a great memory for detail and a way of learning that, while different from his siblings, seems to work for him.

He loves colors, and has from the time he was little.  When he sees something really colorful, he often remarks with something along the lines of “wow, that’s so beautiful”…it’s very sweet.

He is also generous.  For a five year old, he tends to be very good at considering others’ feelings, and willing to sacrifice what he most prefers to make someone else happy.  Sure, he has his moments of not seeing beyond himself, but I am often impressed by how thoughtful he is.

I am so thankful for this sensitive, loving, helpful little boy.  He is such a gift to our family and I feel especially protective of his soft heart, that is at the same time a wonderfully strong and yet vulnerable, needing-to-be-handled-gently part of his character.  I so look forward to watching him discover the love of the One who gave him such a valuable gift, and then share that love with others out of the compassion and servant’s heart he has been given.

Happy 5th Birthday, Bug!  You are precious and so loved.

I woke up at 5:00 this morning, and I lay in bed, trying to get past the nausea and discomfort so that I could sleep some more.  An hour later, I took a shower, then went back to bed to try again.  When I lay down, Tim, half awake, reached over and rubbed my back – knowing I wasn’t feeling good, knowing I needed sleep, knowing backrubs help.  I fell asleep, he got up.

He had a plan for today.  He wanted an early-ish start.

But, instead of starting on his plans, he started getting kids ready for the day.  He did the dishes (that were piled high because I had felt pretty terrible yesterday, too).  He assisted Caedmon in making pancakes for breakfast.  He let me sleep for 2 more hours.  When I got up, he offered to cook eggs for me, knowing that pancakes don’t sit well when my stomach is upset.  He washed the breakfast dishes for me and got kids started on their morning chores.   Eventually, hours later than he had hoped, he started on his plans.

He put me first.  He always does.

He is a continual example to me of sacrificial love.  When I think God has forgotten me, I am reminded, through my husband, of how undeservedly blessed I am.  I told Tim once that he wasn’t the man of my dreams…he was better than I could have ever dreamed.  It’s true.  And I am so thankful for him.

Yesterday, motivated by a string of rather unproductive days (weeks? months?), we decided a change of scenery was in order, so we decided to spend the afternoon at the Wild Center in Tupper Lake.  The kiddos were thrilled to see fish, turtles, otters, ducks and various other things that I wouldn’t have necessarily thought would captivate them.  We walked the trails and I was thankful for being able to be outside, in the shade of sweet-smelling pine trees, and get a small bit of exercise that didn’t involve gardening or going for a walk around the block (that can be nice, but gets boring kind of quick).  I was thankful for a loose agenda and time with my family that didn’t require any other doing.  And you know what?  Later, when children were in bed – even though I had been awake since early and had probably exhausted myself, physically, more than I had in a while – I had motivation to be productive.  Granted, I hadn’t left myself much of the day to accomplish things, but nevertheless, a changing table got repaired, cleaned and organized, a car seat got taken out of storage, disassembled and cleaned, and a cradle got pulled out and cleaned, too.

Today, though there hasn’t been a fast pace by any means, things have been steadily getting done.  Tim is working on gutting the back section of our upstairs, and I have canned some sweet pickles, made refrigerator summer squash pickles, and baked a double batch of banana bread.  Hopefully, at the end of the day today, we will not feel quite as overwhelmed as usual on a Saturday night.  I really don’t often mind when projects take a long time, or when to-do lists are really long…I just like to see progress.  So, despite the fact that there is no “end” in sight to the work that needs doing on and around our house, today it is enough that something has been accomplished.

today…

…up at 6:30 (early for me), not because I was well rested, but because my body ached too much for me to go back to sleep.

…everyone bathed/showered and dressed by 8am.

…breakfast done being eaten by 9am (for us, this is almost unheard of).

…an hour and a half pruning tomato plants.  Probably not the best idea on little sleep and in muggy weather for this 8-months-pregnant lady.

…an episode of vomiting before lunch (most likely caused by the gardening exertion).

…lunch, and an episode of Master Chef.  I’m glad my kids seem to be on board with my love of cooking shows.

…some dishes washed.

…piles of laundry needing to be folded.

…a lower back that feels like it is going to go into spasms.

…trying to figure out dinner.  I have to use some of my squash.  Ugh.

…a very active baby, which is endearing in many ways, but does not help an unsettled tummy.

…a four year old who faithfully reports to me on the condition of our garden every morning after he empties our compost bucket, a 6 year old who is starting to love reading, a 2 year old who can melt my heart in spite of his recent defiant streak, an 8 year old who is willing to try just about any task I assign him (but who is especially eager if it involves food), a husband who loves me.

I’m having a hard time lately knowing what I can / should expect from God.  There’s the part of me that thinks He should be answering my prayers – that I should see improvements in different areas of life, that His provision should be clearer, that there should be proof that He really is taking care of me.  I think of scripture verses like Luke 11:9, James 1:5, Psalm 84:11, Matthew 17:20, etc. that promise answered prayers, reward for faith, good things for those following after Him.  These passages make me doubt that my faith is where it needs to be; they make me wonder if I’m falling much too far short in my attempts to serve the Lord, and that He is not answering (or I’m not hearing) because of it.  I think it is impossible to escape the necessity of faith in seeing God move in a life or situation…but where does the line get drawn between my responsibility and God’s?

Then there’s  another part of me that thinks maybe I just need to believe that the unanswered prayers, the clouded vision, the spinning wheels are really God’s way of refining me…of somehow narrowing my view of what He should be doing in my life to only include this moment, of removing the extraneous “felt needs” and attempting to convince me that – whether I like it or not – He is truly enough, of disciplining me in some painful ways so that, later on, the harvest will be greater.  Hebrews 12 and Matthew 6:25-34  simultaneously give me hope that God has a purpose that He is working out in my life, and frustrate me because I’m left wondering what, exactly, I can have faith for in daily life.

And still, there’s this last part that wonders if it is all just a part of living in a fallen world.  In John 16:33, Jesus promises that we will have trouble.  In Philippians 4, Paul talks about contentment in every circumstance.  Clearly, life can’t be perfect this side of heaven, and while I sometimes tend to think the “troubles” I encounter should all have a deep spiritual meaning, maybe there are times when it really is just life…maybe God’s sovereignty, while not limited, still allows for my life to be touched by the reality that sin – mine and others –  isn’t without temporal consequence.

I know these aren’t exhaustive thoughts.  I haven’t fully processed all that I really know / believe about this particular topic.  But, I know it isn’t a new struggle.  I know that I waver on what I believe about how God should be at work in my life.  It affects so much about how I view life, the future, my own walk with Christ, my trust in God and His love, and what expectations I should place on myself and Tim as we strive to follow the Lord.  Reality is probably some balance of all those things, and maybe more.  For now, though, I will try to just simplify it all to the belief that  “God causes all things to work together for good to those who love God, to those who are called according to His purpose.” – Romans 8:28.  Somehow, regardless of the “why” to my circumstances, I have this promise that it will all result in good for me.  It’s not an easy lesson, but hopefully, I will learn it eventually.

Right now…

…baby is head up.  I don’t think any of my babies have been head-down by this point, but it is nerve-wracking nonetheless.

…I waddle, even when I try hard not to.  Oh well.

…I have gained 50 lbs.  I don’t know why I ever hoped this pregnancy would be any different in the weight-gain category.

…I am nervous about labor.  The thought of it all happening at home makes me more worried in some ways, and less worried in others.  Really, I’m just trying to boil it all down to trusting in the fact that it is all in God’s hands, anyway.

…I have officially reached what I like to call the “beached whale” phase of pregnancy, where flipping from one side to the other while trying to sleep has become a monumental (and sometimes amusing) venture.

…my kiddos like to feel the baby’s head (since being head-up makes it very easy to locate).

…there’s heartburn.  Fun.

…many of my maternity shirts have become too short.  Thus is the plight of a long-torso-ed (?) pregnant lady.

…my stomach is usually upset throughout the mornings, so I sit a lot.

…my brain continues to be in a fog, so expecting me to remember anything or make sense of anything is a pretty big gamble.

…I sweat if the temperature is above 70 and I am doing anything.  And on really hot days, my body is convinced that I am going to dehydrate, so it hordes water as if I were preparing for a trek across the desert.

…I am debating my need for a new carseat for the baby.  The “official” answer Tim got from the “seatbelt expert” at the State Police was that there is no law concerning carseat expiration and that nobody checks anyway.  My thinking is that I have had the same one for all four kids and would like something different.  I’m just not sure boredom justifies the expense.

…I’m really kind of hoping this baby doesn’t come late.  Of course, hoping doesn’t really affect the actual outcome (or, at least, hasn’t so far).  Still, I get impatient by the end, so I occasionally indulge in wishful thinking.  Practically speaking, though, I should probably be hoping for as much time as possible to get things done before this little one arrives.  It’s possible that pregnancy makes me slightly less practical than usual, though.

And those are my musings with 5 weeks (+ or -) left to go.  While it may not necessarily seem like it, I am so excited to meet this little one.  I am thankful for the inconveniences of pregnancy that remind me of the life that is being formed, and assure me that his or her arrival is drawing ever nearer.  And when this baby is here, and I can’t imagine how we lived life before, most of the pregnancy woes will be, at most, a faded memory – shadowed by the joy of a perfect little life entrusted to us.