January 2013
Is this enough?
It is 10 am. The sun is shining on my feet through the East window in my kitchen. I am sitting in my "study spot" on the couch and as the hours pass, the ray will travel up to my eyes, back down the couch, across the floor and disappear around the house. At 4 o'clock it will again reappear through the South window across from my spot, and again blind me for a few minutes. I will shift my cramped body over to the left, squeeze my eyes shut, and feel them burn...
For the past 23 days, I have been on full time study mode as the NARM exam inches towards me. I have made the hard decision to remove myself from the "office" calender and not participate in client appointments. I have also adjusted my call schedule and handed my share of "first call" status off to other students...Those two things have made the midwife in me ache. My fingers yearn for the warmth of firm bellies and flesh, inside and out..The smell of birth and the feel of new life beneath my finger tips...
This thing of sitting still, focusing my attention, even being quiet is a challenge for me. Always has been. "Shes a doer", my mom would say. And that hasn't changed. Even sitting here, typing, is a small act of rebellion, against the very thing that will ultimately bring me one step closer reaching my "cauling".
'You' re going to do great" well wishers, friends, and family say... and as I eat, sleep and breathe (and make flashcard after flashcard...), I hear the quiet yet screaming voice in my head "Is is enough"?? Enough facts, enough detail, enough understanding, enough clarity?" Do I KNOW enough??? As I study, for every, "I know this", there are 10 (or more) things I don't...Or at least, that is the way it feels...
ENOUGH....Enough...enough...
Isn't this the plight of all mankind? Adam and Eve thought they didn't have or know enough, so they ate, Job's wife thought she didn't have enough and looked back, the Israelites thought they didn't have enough so a 10 day trip stretched to 40 years...What is it about the fear that we don't have or know enough?
Driving in the car yesterday, thinking on this, The Lord pointed out to me that if I BELIEVE HE has truly CALLED me to this profession, and paved away this time, will He not also give me enough? Enough time, enough energy, enough brain power, enough memory? And if I don't pass this exam, what will it say about all I have put into it? That I didn't DO enough? Really? Or does it simply come down to the nitty gritty reality of do I really believe and trust that HE is enough? Am I willing to allow Him to BE all these things to me and be content with it?
As the caffeine seeps into my system and I question whether I should be drinking this 2nd cup, I give myself permission to just breathe. "Just be here", I feel His spirit whisper. "Just stay here." Here. Not in the next minute,the next hour or far away imagining something that has yet to be..or not be. Here. I set my mug on the table. No, I don't need it and I pull my legs up under me and cover myself with my favorite blanket and let the sun sit on my face. Eyes closed, I take a breath in and a breath out and listen to the sound. Just like I instruct my laboring mamas to do when simply the act of breathing seems impossible. The words I often find myself whispering to a woman as she nears her time comes into my head, "Remember this moment, remember this moment..."
My head falls back on the couch, and in this moment His spirit calms my anxious heart and I know..
This is enough...
***PASSED***
Sunday, September 22, 2013
Tuesday, October 23, 2012
Darker days
Open for me the gates of the righteous; I will enter and give thanks to the LORD.
Psalm 118:18-20
Early this morning, we had a baby. A sick baby. We don't see many of these as we are in the "low risk" baby business....We don't play. We don't pretend. Our babies are robust, pink, crying...healthy...Not that we think we are immune. We know it can happen but are always on the look out...Always...
Its at times like this that I feel Satan's doubt descend...Like a blanket covering my soul and whispers in my ear..."You should have known.." "You should have seen this coming.." "Should have done this, should not have done that." "Shoulds" buzzing around my head like angry bees... The drone of their wings condemning me. "Your not good enough... Not skillful enough... Not worthy enough... Not ready..." THE thief whispers and I can feel the heat of his rotting breath ...His words smother me like a wet wool blanket and I find myself gasping for air and clawing at the heaviness that has pressed in on my mind. I replay scenes over and over..I can see paperwork and lab results that I poured over, searching for, praying for, clues that would have given me...something... Darkness closes in and I try to escape in the liquid balm of sleep... Yet, he is there still. Wrestling with my subconscious, playing with my insecurities. Such a coward is he to stalk and pounce when I am at my most vulnerable posture. Images flit across my brain and I feel my eyelids twitch. My breathe catches in my throat as I beg for answers, even as I struggle to empty my brain. Hot and sweaty then cold and shivering...Running, twisting... My adrenals wasted...My spirit weak.
As I come up for air, chest burning, my heart cries out, "Lord, show yourself to me, please! Remind me that in the midst of this turmoil, angst and regret that YOU were there...YOU with YOUR purpose. YOUR control. YOUR perfect plan. Help me to see myself as the vessel YOU have called me to be. A vehicle for couples as they make choices for their sweet babies...how and where.."
In my begging and weakness, My Father, quietly, mercifully, grants me sweet, precious, relief.. "I AM", He says in my ear and I feel only His presence. I smell the aroma of His tenderness and peace. " I AM here. I AM your purpose. I AM your control, Kelly. I AM your perfect plan. THEIR perfect plan. Stop fighting and rest in me. Even in this, I AM...Stop trying so hard. Because even as you fight him, you are fighting ME. Do you really believe? Even now? All those things you tell others about me. Do YOU, Kelly, believe? Even in this? Then lift your voice to me in an offering of thanksgiving and I will meet you there."
I open my eyes and even before the words "Thank you" release themselves from my throat, I feel Satan's hold give. The heavy blanket gone. My mind clear. And I breathe... How can I forget the power of thankfulness? In ALL things give thanks, says the Lord. Because He needs our pathetic offering of thanks? No! He knows the power that we posses, through His spirit within us, to thwart Satan with words and a heart of thankfulness And yet so often, in my flesh, I deny it.
I open my mouth and my heart blooms. "Thank you Lord for the gift of this baby and the miracle of birth. Thank you Lord for a beautiful couple who saw you there the whole time and for the family you are in the process of creating for them . Thank you for allowing me to experience your hand and for future "events" that will inevitably come. Thank you for your sovereignty and promise of working all together for good.
Baby breathes and baby breathes, then it doesn't.
I am told even if the location was different, the outcome would have been the same.. Does this make it better? Some days it does. Some days it doesn't. Like a birth, inch by inch, through submitting my flesh to Him, He reveals Himself to me. And even this event is a revelation. I see that my peace isn't delivered by knowing it all or understanding it all. It is through knowing Christ in the midst of these circumstances..Choosing to trust Him. Choosing to hear Him, CHOOSING to BELIEVE HIM...and thanking Him for ALL things. To allow Him to blanket me softly in a veil of silk and lace. Lace of His comfort, assurance, and love and to rest there..even as my phone rings..again.
Monday, April 30, 2012
Families of thier own
Exodus 1:21 And because the midwives feared God, he gave them families if their own.
During my years as a Doula, I often got the question, "Are you ever going to become a Midwife?" My answer always was, "Maybe after the law changes."
The truth is, I was worried about the fact that I didn’t know many married midwives...Most were either divorced or on a second marriage. Some were single, never having had children themselves. In the books I read, most midwives were widows. I looked at this and knowing the stress I was living with as an attendant, pretty much decided that maybe married women were not supposed to be midwives. Always having one foot out the door lends itself to a type of "distraction" that for the most part isn’t conducive to marriage, at least to the type of marriage I wanted.
You see, I like my husband. I like being available to him, and sharing life with him. Dave, as I mentioned in previous posts, is a wonderful, steady, loyal man. He is thought-FULL, meaning he carries the majority of his thoughts in his head, rather that releasing them to those around him..ie:me. Being a woman, I naturally, desire an "intimate" relationship with him that includes verbal intimacy. But to have verbal intimacy, one must be around..
When I began my "career", there were no cell phones and very little Internet so the reality of easy access communication we so enjoy (?) today was not available then. If I was gone for the day, I was gone. Yes, I could call home but it really didn't lend itself to much communication. Imagine, a low, laboring moan in the background....Nope. Didn't work. So our marriage communication during my on-call years mainly consisted of: where (is this birth), when (are you coming home), and what (is there for dinner)...sprinkled along with childcare questions, and deep, tired sighs, etc. Really, most times it seemed to be a better idea not to call home. The more inaccessible I was, the better everyone did at just figuring things out.
Fast forward 18 years...Everyone is still alive. Dave and I still married. Internet and cell phones are here to stay but here I am back to the (personal) question, "Are married women supposed to be midwives?"
Obviously, to just looks at those around me expecting God's answer for ME is not the way I know He will answer, so to His word I go. (And it only took 18 years!)
In God's entire word, he only speaks of midwives one time. In my younger days, I might have been a bit miffed by this. The Bible has 66 "books" in it and well over two thousand pages. But it is only in the book of Exodus, in a mere 6 verses that we see God himself refer to them. Now, though, that I am in my "older" years, the fact that The Creator of the world even mentions midwives astounds me! You see, the older I get, the more reverent and in awe I become of the enormity of the truth that the Bible is God's inherent word to us. I have learned that when the Lord chooses to speak directly of a subject, He means business! We are to take Him at His word and stay focused on what He is saying...Sometimes I think we make the Bible out to be much harder to understand, dissecting over and over the verses, seeking the discernment of "wiser" men and women in search for meaning and understanding. Don't get me wrong...I do believe that The lord has anointed others to help us with these things but how many times do we (me) first turn to a "teaching" before turning to God himself for understanding. God's LIVING word. What does that mean to you? If it means that you believe, first, that His Word IS from God, second, that His Word IS for you, today, then doesn’t that mean that we should pay close attention to what is being said and receive it as truth...for today?
So today, I am back in Exodus. In the story, the Israelites are still enslaved in Egypt awaiting the One who will free them from brutal oppression. In an attempt to limit the possibility of a messiah, the king of Egypt came to the Hebrew midwives and commanded them to kill any male babies born to Hebrew slaves. The midwives however, "feared" God and did not do it and let the boy babies live...."Gods word says this: "So God was kind to the midwives and the people increased and became even more numerous. And because the midwives feared God, He gave them families of their own."....
Humm...He gave them families of their own. Families. Not just children, because although we know one can have children without a husband, but whole families...Moms, dads, and children.
So what does that say to me personally....
Personally, as I contemplate this, I go back to the beginning of that passage...It says that the midwives "feared" God. Pastor James McDonald from Walk in the Word, says that The"fear" of God is this : " The attitude of a heart that seeks a right relationship to the fear-source." Its the act of seeking a right relationship with Him...The ACT. By definition, Act means: anything done, being done, or to be done. The midwives in Exodus didn't just sit around and talk about the sanctity of life or what someone ELSE aught to be doing... THEY ACTED. They put into motion a response towards that right relationship with God. Not out of, "Oh, my gosh!" fear, but out of "We love Him and want Him and His favor" fear. It was a fear that trusted, a fear that showed true love for their Father in heaven, and a fear that was willing to face fleshly fear to receive the plan the Lord set before them.
And how did God reward them??? With families of their own. Human rubies, diamonds, emeralds and sapphires. Riches beyond measure...The Word doesn't say He gave them families and took away the calling of being a midwife..It says He added families to the call on their lives. To enrich it, to grow with it, to be reminded daily of His goodness and love
So as I walk toward this "cauling", that includes interrupted nights, long days and no sleep, I too receive the "gift" that has been handed down to us midwives... A beautiful family of my own: Dave, Molly, Kendall and Emma...
During my years as a Doula, I often got the question, "Are you ever going to become a Midwife?" My answer always was, "Maybe after the law changes."
The truth is, I was worried about the fact that I didn’t know many married midwives...Most were either divorced or on a second marriage. Some were single, never having had children themselves. In the books I read, most midwives were widows. I looked at this and knowing the stress I was living with as an attendant, pretty much decided that maybe married women were not supposed to be midwives. Always having one foot out the door lends itself to a type of "distraction" that for the most part isn’t conducive to marriage, at least to the type of marriage I wanted.
You see, I like my husband. I like being available to him, and sharing life with him. Dave, as I mentioned in previous posts, is a wonderful, steady, loyal man. He is thought-FULL, meaning he carries the majority of his thoughts in his head, rather that releasing them to those around him..ie:me. Being a woman, I naturally, desire an "intimate" relationship with him that includes verbal intimacy. But to have verbal intimacy, one must be around..
When I began my "career", there were no cell phones and very little Internet so the reality of easy access communication we so enjoy (?) today was not available then. If I was gone for the day, I was gone. Yes, I could call home but it really didn't lend itself to much communication. Imagine, a low, laboring moan in the background....Nope. Didn't work. So our marriage communication during my on-call years mainly consisted of: where (is this birth), when (are you coming home), and what (is there for dinner)...sprinkled along with childcare questions, and deep, tired sighs, etc. Really, most times it seemed to be a better idea not to call home. The more inaccessible I was, the better everyone did at just figuring things out.
Fast forward 18 years...Everyone is still alive. Dave and I still married. Internet and cell phones are here to stay but here I am back to the (personal) question, "Are married women supposed to be midwives?"
Obviously, to just looks at those around me expecting God's answer for ME is not the way I know He will answer, so to His word I go. (And it only took 18 years!)
In God's entire word, he only speaks of midwives one time. In my younger days, I might have been a bit miffed by this. The Bible has 66 "books" in it and well over two thousand pages. But it is only in the book of Exodus, in a mere 6 verses that we see God himself refer to them. Now, though, that I am in my "older" years, the fact that The Creator of the world even mentions midwives astounds me! You see, the older I get, the more reverent and in awe I become of the enormity of the truth that the Bible is God's inherent word to us. I have learned that when the Lord chooses to speak directly of a subject, He means business! We are to take Him at His word and stay focused on what He is saying...Sometimes I think we make the Bible out to be much harder to understand, dissecting over and over the verses, seeking the discernment of "wiser" men and women in search for meaning and understanding. Don't get me wrong...I do believe that The lord has anointed others to help us with these things but how many times do we (me) first turn to a "teaching" before turning to God himself for understanding. God's LIVING word. What does that mean to you? If it means that you believe, first, that His Word IS from God, second, that His Word IS for you, today, then doesn’t that mean that we should pay close attention to what is being said and receive it as truth...for today?
So today, I am back in Exodus. In the story, the Israelites are still enslaved in Egypt awaiting the One who will free them from brutal oppression. In an attempt to limit the possibility of a messiah, the king of Egypt came to the Hebrew midwives and commanded them to kill any male babies born to Hebrew slaves. The midwives however, "feared" God and did not do it and let the boy babies live...."Gods word says this: "So God was kind to the midwives and the people increased and became even more numerous. And because the midwives feared God, He gave them families of their own."....
Humm...He gave them families of their own. Families. Not just children, because although we know one can have children without a husband, but whole families...Moms, dads, and children.
So what does that say to me personally....
Personally, as I contemplate this, I go back to the beginning of that passage...It says that the midwives "feared" God. Pastor James McDonald from Walk in the Word, says that The"fear" of God is this : " The attitude of a heart that seeks a right relationship to the fear-source." Its the act of seeking a right relationship with Him...The ACT. By definition, Act means: anything done, being done, or to be done. The midwives in Exodus didn't just sit around and talk about the sanctity of life or what someone ELSE aught to be doing... THEY ACTED. They put into motion a response towards that right relationship with God. Not out of, "Oh, my gosh!" fear, but out of "We love Him and want Him and His favor" fear. It was a fear that trusted, a fear that showed true love for their Father in heaven, and a fear that was willing to face fleshly fear to receive the plan the Lord set before them.
And how did God reward them??? With families of their own. Human rubies, diamonds, emeralds and sapphires. Riches beyond measure...The Word doesn't say He gave them families and took away the calling of being a midwife..It says He added families to the call on their lives. To enrich it, to grow with it, to be reminded daily of His goodness and love
So as I walk toward this "cauling", that includes interrupted nights, long days and no sleep, I too receive the "gift" that has been handed down to us midwives... A beautiful family of my own: Dave, Molly, Kendall and Emma...
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
Smooth (and sweet) like butter!
Isaiah 26: 3- You will keep in perfect peace him whose mind is steadfast because he trust in you.
Last night I was officially initiated in as a student midwife by a sweet,7lb. 4 oz, "starter"!
To be honest I wasn’t really expecting things to be much different from the many other births under my belt.... Don’t get me wrong... One of the reasons I love this job is that it is always different. No two births are the same but yet certain aspects are. Kind of like we all have the same basic facial features; 2 eyes, 1 nose, etc., More or less, the same....But yet, its within the details of color and expression lies the vast differences of each individual. So it is with births. But....this being my first as a student midwife, the "colors" and "expressions" were heightened.
As a regular birth attendant, I have moved from task to task, admittedly, sometimes on auto pilot. As a student, last night, I found myself more intentional and aware, much like when I began learning 18 years ago. I remember Dr. S. chuckling to himself after a birth as I had my head down "there" with his, examining a mommy's "fresh privates" (as a client's child once commented). "Only you!" he said, as he laughingly and patiently, gave me "the tour".....God bless him! He probably realized that he had better invite me or I might just scoot him out of the way!
(Don't gross out on me! After all, the title of this blog does have the word midwife in it!)
So now you ask, "What's the reference to butter about?" Well, here it is....When a baby comes quickly, smoothly and with not a "hiccup", its playfully described as a "Butter Birth"....Smooth like butter...On my way to every birth, (after I call my prayer warrior friend, Gelynne) I find myself, entering into a time of audible prayer..It kind of goes like this..."Okay, Lord...This is yours....Your baby, your mama..Your timing...You already have this done...Give me Your wisdom, Your patience, Your protection as You use me." I imagine Jesus riding along in the passenger seat with me, as I believe He is, nodding His head, "navigating"...
Just me and the Lord, dark car, on the road....
Sometimes, He gives me a prayer I was totally not expecting and it isn’t until after the birth that I see why. And at those births, I ask him to show me the smooth parts and He does. Because if you've ever made real butter before, you know that it starts out with fresh, full fat, cream. Its poured into a jar, creamy and white, the sweet milky smell bathing your nose. Then you get to shaking. Sometimes the butter comes easily..At first, tiny fat granules swish on the glass, and before you know it you can hear the soft, thick, thump sound indicating the separation from the buttermilk....
But other times you shake and shake and still nothing...Muscles weak and burning, you review all the ingredients and steps in your mind, questioning whether you have done it right...Did you miss something? But, knowing butter is formed in the constant, persistent shaking, you just keep going...
Shake, shake....Hummm...This isn’t happening the way its suppose to. Lord?
Trust in my process..
Shake, shake, shake....Did I miss something? Am I doing enough? Lord?
Trust that I am working...
Shake, shake, shake....shake... Are you here, Lord? I don’t see you!
Trust that I am in control...Trust in ME!
Shake shake...... thump.
Just when I start to question it all completely, the many, perfect, little, individual granules form together into one perfect ball of sweetness that was really there all along..
So to each birth I go to, I don’t know....Will this be a long, hard birth with complications that stretch my knowledge and insecurities? Will all I know be shaken to a degree that I can’t handle? And am I suppose to be fearful of the shaking, knowing it is what produces and refines the pureness of my trust in Him?
No. Because His hand is in the constant, changing, making and shaking..... and in these times I am to grow, and trust...in His process. Trust in the fact that He is always working. Trust that He is always in control...
And trust that sometimes He just spreads some....butter...
Last night I was officially initiated in as a student midwife by a sweet,7lb. 4 oz, "starter"!
To be honest I wasn’t really expecting things to be much different from the many other births under my belt.... Don’t get me wrong... One of the reasons I love this job is that it is always different. No two births are the same but yet certain aspects are. Kind of like we all have the same basic facial features; 2 eyes, 1 nose, etc., More or less, the same....But yet, its within the details of color and expression lies the vast differences of each individual. So it is with births. But....this being my first as a student midwife, the "colors" and "expressions" were heightened.
As a regular birth attendant, I have moved from task to task, admittedly, sometimes on auto pilot. As a student, last night, I found myself more intentional and aware, much like when I began learning 18 years ago. I remember Dr. S. chuckling to himself after a birth as I had my head down "there" with his, examining a mommy's "fresh privates" (as a client's child once commented). "Only you!" he said, as he laughingly and patiently, gave me "the tour".....God bless him! He probably realized that he had better invite me or I might just scoot him out of the way!
(Don't gross out on me! After all, the title of this blog does have the word midwife in it!)
So now you ask, "What's the reference to butter about?" Well, here it is....When a baby comes quickly, smoothly and with not a "hiccup", its playfully described as a "Butter Birth"....Smooth like butter...On my way to every birth, (after I call my prayer warrior friend, Gelynne) I find myself, entering into a time of audible prayer..It kind of goes like this..."Okay, Lord...This is yours....Your baby, your mama..Your timing...You already have this done...Give me Your wisdom, Your patience, Your protection as You use me." I imagine Jesus riding along in the passenger seat with me, as I believe He is, nodding His head, "navigating"...
Just me and the Lord, dark car, on the road....
Sometimes, He gives me a prayer I was totally not expecting and it isn’t until after the birth that I see why. And at those births, I ask him to show me the smooth parts and He does. Because if you've ever made real butter before, you know that it starts out with fresh, full fat, cream. Its poured into a jar, creamy and white, the sweet milky smell bathing your nose. Then you get to shaking. Sometimes the butter comes easily..At first, tiny fat granules swish on the glass, and before you know it you can hear the soft, thick, thump sound indicating the separation from the buttermilk....
But other times you shake and shake and still nothing...Muscles weak and burning, you review all the ingredients and steps in your mind, questioning whether you have done it right...Did you miss something? But, knowing butter is formed in the constant, persistent shaking, you just keep going...
Shake, shake....Hummm...This isn’t happening the way its suppose to. Lord?
Trust in my process..
Shake, shake, shake....Did I miss something? Am I doing enough? Lord?
Trust that I am working...
Shake, shake, shake....shake... Are you here, Lord? I don’t see you!
Trust that I am in control...Trust in ME!
Shake shake...... thump.
Just when I start to question it all completely, the many, perfect, little, individual granules form together into one perfect ball of sweetness that was really there all along..
So to each birth I go to, I don’t know....Will this be a long, hard birth with complications that stretch my knowledge and insecurities? Will all I know be shaken to a degree that I can’t handle? And am I suppose to be fearful of the shaking, knowing it is what produces and refines the pureness of my trust in Him?
No. Because His hand is in the constant, changing, making and shaking..... and in these times I am to grow, and trust...in His process. Trust in the fact that He is always working. Trust that He is always in control...
And trust that sometimes He just spreads some....butter...
Saturday, October 8, 2011
Foundations
Chink..chink...chink.... Do you hear it? That sound?
In 2005 My husband Dave and I bought a house. Our first house after years of "to cheap to not be renting", in an area where housing prices were sky rocketing faster than our pay checks could or wanted to keep up with.
"Can you all fit in this house?", our good friend and realtor asked, as we made our way through all 1,000 (?) square feet of what was to end up as our new home. Built in the 1950s, our ranch style, brick house was teeny....and dirty...and smelly. "C" had good reason to ask that question, although I am sure what he was really thinking was "Why would you want to fit into this house?". After renting for so long, we had many years of built up home ownership envy and had had plenty of time to renovate, plan and decorate many houses in our mind's eye (s). Plus, this house came with deeded access to the Shenandoah River and had a POOL! Heck! If we couldn't fit, we would just sprout gills and learn to live in the water!
As plans were drawn up, and dreams discussed for an almost complete renovation, my husband, brilliant man that he is, placed a single dot of black permanent marker on the side of our house.
I saw him do it.
And then I moved on. You see my Dave is a man of few words. This I will tell you has been an area of great challenge to me. But over the years I have learned, that few words doesn't mean few thoughts....Know what I mean? I have, however, learned that in order to sometimes "hear" those thoughts, I need to stop speaking and watch him. Pay attention to what he is doing even if no words come with it. You see, if I had seen something on the wall, made a conclusion about it and....placed a dot, I would have TOLD him. I would have called a friend and talked about it, researched on-line to confirm it, (maybe) prayed about it and then probably made the dot, bigger and darker (and in a cool color to match something) to publicity affirm it, and then...(maybe) gloated about my wisdom...But not Dave. He just stood looking at the brick wall, drew his Sharpie "sword", struck... and walked away.
Over the next few months, construction began and one day I pulled up to the house, and I heard it...That sound...chink, chink, chink. I saw Dave and his brother, digging with shovels and picking with pick axes around the base of the corner of the house. Oh, no. You see, the renovations and the money for them, were for the inside of the house. Aside from paint, there were NO plans (or money) for outside renovations. To add to it....I wanted IN!! Because the "reno" was in every room, we were continuing to live in our rental and all I saw was dollar signs and a ticking clock as we now paid a mortgage, rent, and everything that goes with that. No. This was not in the budget. So I walked over to where they were, trying not to sigh too loud or stomp my feet. I was informed that it was about The Dot. Dave, my detail oriented, non-emotional guy had been watching The Dot and... it had moved. Not once or twice, but far enough away from its original position that it whispered to him a secret about what was or actually what was not underneath the house. It appeared that as the house was being built, the original builder, somehow forgot (?) to pour a footer. For those of you who don't know the terminology, a footer, basically, is a concrete support that helps hold the house up. Without this, the house slowly over time will begin to....lean. And then little by little, brick by brick... fall. What Dave, and his eagle eye, had seen was a hairline crack in the brick of our house. He knew the possible implications, used The Dot to mark the crack, and waited to see if the hint of a problem actually was a lurking crisis . And now here Dave and Jonathan were, already waist deep, digging out by hand, 5 feet of dirt and rocks around the corner of our house...
I know I could go couple of different ways with this story, but I think I will just stick with the original thought The Lord woke me with this morning so bare with me...
As might have guessed, I am talking about the of the importance of foundations. My intention is not to re-write what you already know but to maybe just open it a little wider. So here goes...
You see, for all long time I thought I had done that "foundation" part. Plan, check. Dig out the dirt, check. Gather your materials and crew, check, check. And then, build, Build, BUILD!! (Check, check, check.) So I proceeded feeling pretty secure in the "foundation'.....and then, perhaps over time, I forgot it was even there. Maybe, even forgot all the work it took to build it in the first place. AND the fact that a forgotten element, intentional or not, WILL at some point, cause the rest to fall.
I found myself securely standing at the top of a hill looking down over all the trials, challenges and decisions I had made thus far and felt pretty....proud. Great husband, great kids, great job. Check. And then that sound...that quiet little sound.
Are you with me?
With a house, and with us, all you see is what’s up "above" and to be honest, it looks pretty dang good! But slowly God in his infinite wisdom and timing, slowly reveals, in a whisper, or maybe with a simple watched dot, that perhaps that foundation isn’t actually complete. And then one day, in a quiet moment, you hear it...Chink. chink. chink. Or feel it as the earth under your feet vibrates with the deep notes of change...And you realize that all you knew to be true and trusted really was not The TRUTH.
After the first shudder of fear, and mind spinning "I'm not in control feeling", you remember the One who IS in control and the One you trust. The One you believe and that your God is not a God of fear! That change is actually a "holy shifting"! It is really what it means to be a child of His! To believe that we are finished, done or complete means we are no longer open, humbled or laying prostrate before Him and His promise of our future and His total, mind blowing love for us.
Not a Crisis but a catalyst.
Dave and Jonathan dug for two days and what looked to me to be a huge, looong, expensive job, with some hard work, and Dave's brilliant know-how, ended up being much easier than I thought.
Now, I don't want to elude that foundation work is easy, but don't we look at most issues and see huge, loong and expensive? Or maybe painful, time consuming, and fruitless? Because in reality, even if our foundation problem was going to be all these things, what were we going to do? Walk away? Let the house slowly go under?
Okay, Kelly. I hear you. But how does all this fit into a blog about your journey of becoming a midwife?
So here it is....Over the past few months (years?) of moving towards making this decision, I have had to admit that I had been hearing that "chink, chink" sound and had been hearing it for a while. Because I have lived a life of being on-call in a very emotional, physical, and intimate profession as a birth assistant, and know what that entails, the decision to take the next step has been somewhat like standing on the edge of a cliff, jumping and free falling... I will admit it....I don't like heights, jumping now challenges my 43 year old bladder, and free falling? Without certain medications in my system, I think not.
But....I love a pregnant belly. I yearn for the music of labour, and the magic that comes with it. The sweetness of a newborns first breath and the joy of witnessing the birth of a family. Most of all, I love having the privilege of being in a front row seat, seeing God's hand orchestrate what He created and the absolute purity and miracle of it all.
Now I see that as He reveals my role of allowing Him to do His job of planner, builder, and restorer, that the cliff really isn’t a cliff at all..and that my foundation begins and ends with Him...
Do you hear it?
Chink, chink, chink...
The rain came down, the streams rose, and the winds blew and beat against that house; yet it did not fall, because it had its foundation on the rock.
Matthew 7:24-26
In 2005 My husband Dave and I bought a house. Our first house after years of "to cheap to not be renting", in an area where housing prices were sky rocketing faster than our pay checks could or wanted to keep up with.
"Can you all fit in this house?", our good friend and realtor asked, as we made our way through all 1,000 (?) square feet of what was to end up as our new home. Built in the 1950s, our ranch style, brick house was teeny....and dirty...and smelly. "C" had good reason to ask that question, although I am sure what he was really thinking was "Why would you want to fit into this house?". After renting for so long, we had many years of built up home ownership envy and had had plenty of time to renovate, plan and decorate many houses in our mind's eye (s). Plus, this house came with deeded access to the Shenandoah River and had a POOL! Heck! If we couldn't fit, we would just sprout gills and learn to live in the water!
As plans were drawn up, and dreams discussed for an almost complete renovation, my husband, brilliant man that he is, placed a single dot of black permanent marker on the side of our house.
I saw him do it.
And then I moved on. You see my Dave is a man of few words. This I will tell you has been an area of great challenge to me. But over the years I have learned, that few words doesn't mean few thoughts....Know what I mean? I have, however, learned that in order to sometimes "hear" those thoughts, I need to stop speaking and watch him. Pay attention to what he is doing even if no words come with it. You see, if I had seen something on the wall, made a conclusion about it and....placed a dot, I would have TOLD him. I would have called a friend and talked about it, researched on-line to confirm it, (maybe) prayed about it and then probably made the dot, bigger and darker (and in a cool color to match something) to publicity affirm it, and then...(maybe) gloated about my wisdom...But not Dave. He just stood looking at the brick wall, drew his Sharpie "sword", struck... and walked away.
Over the next few months, construction began and one day I pulled up to the house, and I heard it...That sound...chink, chink, chink. I saw Dave and his brother, digging with shovels and picking with pick axes around the base of the corner of the house. Oh, no. You see, the renovations and the money for them, were for the inside of the house. Aside from paint, there were NO plans (or money) for outside renovations. To add to it....I wanted IN!! Because the "reno" was in every room, we were continuing to live in our rental and all I saw was dollar signs and a ticking clock as we now paid a mortgage, rent, and everything that goes with that. No. This was not in the budget. So I walked over to where they were, trying not to sigh too loud or stomp my feet. I was informed that it was about The Dot. Dave, my detail oriented, non-emotional guy had been watching The Dot and... it had moved. Not once or twice, but far enough away from its original position that it whispered to him a secret about what was or actually what was not underneath the house. It appeared that as the house was being built, the original builder, somehow forgot (?) to pour a footer. For those of you who don't know the terminology, a footer, basically, is a concrete support that helps hold the house up. Without this, the house slowly over time will begin to....lean. And then little by little, brick by brick... fall. What Dave, and his eagle eye, had seen was a hairline crack in the brick of our house. He knew the possible implications, used The Dot to mark the crack, and waited to see if the hint of a problem actually was a lurking crisis . And now here Dave and Jonathan were, already waist deep, digging out by hand, 5 feet of dirt and rocks around the corner of our house...
I know I could go couple of different ways with this story, but I think I will just stick with the original thought The Lord woke me with this morning so bare with me...
As might have guessed, I am talking about the of the importance of foundations. My intention is not to re-write what you already know but to maybe just open it a little wider. So here goes...
You see, for all long time I thought I had done that "foundation" part. Plan, check. Dig out the dirt, check. Gather your materials and crew, check, check. And then, build, Build, BUILD!! (Check, check, check.) So I proceeded feeling pretty secure in the "foundation'.....and then, perhaps over time, I forgot it was even there. Maybe, even forgot all the work it took to build it in the first place. AND the fact that a forgotten element, intentional or not, WILL at some point, cause the rest to fall.
I found myself securely standing at the top of a hill looking down over all the trials, challenges and decisions I had made thus far and felt pretty....proud. Great husband, great kids, great job. Check. And then that sound...that quiet little sound.
Are you with me?
With a house, and with us, all you see is what’s up "above" and to be honest, it looks pretty dang good! But slowly God in his infinite wisdom and timing, slowly reveals, in a whisper, or maybe with a simple watched dot, that perhaps that foundation isn’t actually complete. And then one day, in a quiet moment, you hear it...Chink. chink. chink. Or feel it as the earth under your feet vibrates with the deep notes of change...And you realize that all you knew to be true and trusted really was not The TRUTH.
After the first shudder of fear, and mind spinning "I'm not in control feeling", you remember the One who IS in control and the One you trust. The One you believe and that your God is not a God of fear! That change is actually a "holy shifting"! It is really what it means to be a child of His! To believe that we are finished, done or complete means we are no longer open, humbled or laying prostrate before Him and His promise of our future and His total, mind blowing love for us.
Not a Crisis but a catalyst.
Dave and Jonathan dug for two days and what looked to me to be a huge, looong, expensive job, with some hard work, and Dave's brilliant know-how, ended up being much easier than I thought.
Now, I don't want to elude that foundation work is easy, but don't we look at most issues and see huge, loong and expensive? Or maybe painful, time consuming, and fruitless? Because in reality, even if our foundation problem was going to be all these things, what were we going to do? Walk away? Let the house slowly go under?
Okay, Kelly. I hear you. But how does all this fit into a blog about your journey of becoming a midwife?
So here it is....Over the past few months (years?) of moving towards making this decision, I have had to admit that I had been hearing that "chink, chink" sound and had been hearing it for a while. Because I have lived a life of being on-call in a very emotional, physical, and intimate profession as a birth assistant, and know what that entails, the decision to take the next step has been somewhat like standing on the edge of a cliff, jumping and free falling... I will admit it....I don't like heights, jumping now challenges my 43 year old bladder, and free falling? Without certain medications in my system, I think not.
But....I love a pregnant belly. I yearn for the music of labour, and the magic that comes with it. The sweetness of a newborns first breath and the joy of witnessing the birth of a family. Most of all, I love having the privilege of being in a front row seat, seeing God's hand orchestrate what He created and the absolute purity and miracle of it all.
Now I see that as He reveals my role of allowing Him to do His job of planner, builder, and restorer, that the cliff really isn’t a cliff at all..and that my foundation begins and ends with Him...
Do you hear it?
Chink, chink, chink...
The rain came down, the streams rose, and the winds blew and beat against that house; yet it did not fall, because it had its foundation on the rock.
Matthew 7:24-26
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
Pushed....
Well here I am. An officially registered midwifery student. I always said I would do this when the law changed and since that happened (some time ago), I'm finally pushing...
Seven months ago I attended a friend, at the delivery of her fifth child. This was her third birth at home with me as her birth assistant . Little did I know that the Lord would use this birth, out of ALL the others, to proclaim my next step.
I have been a childbirth educator, hospital labor support (Doula) and birth assistant to midwives for over 18 years. And I have been happy there. Happy to have a "career" that has come so naturally to me. Happy to have had a "career" that offered a certain level of flexibility so that I could be at home with my girls and provide a needed monetary cushion for our family. Happy to be...happy!
As a little girl, all I wanted as an adult was to be a mommy, a teacher and have my hands in "birth". And thats exactly where the Lord put me! In spite of all my "fleshly" choices, with the birth of my first daughter, he slowly revealed to me His plan for my life.
Beauty from ashes...His promise to us....
Being raised in the country, gave me lots of opportunities to experience birth even if it was only from the perspective of being a "midwife" to a loved cat, dog or a very fertile hamster. My Aunt Winnie had an enormous impact on cultivating my natural interest in pregnancy, birth, and babies. When I was 7, she gave birth to her first daughter and invited me in her life as an active participant in all care of her newborn. Her faith in me at such a young age built my confidence; my love for it all continued to grow with the births of her next 2 girls.
When I was 16, a good friend of mine became pregnant and it seemed to be a natural thing for me to come along beside her. From the beginning, I became her "mentor" in all aspects from helping her tell her parents, to translating information about pregnancy and then delivery to her. Unfortunately, the hospital would not allow me in with her...."It’s no place for a teenager." I was told. So I camped outside her labor room for hours on end and performed as a “Hallway Doula” with the only thing I could do; pray and throw words of encouragement through the open doorway as the nurses came and went. After Josh's birth I continued to support and mentor my friend. All the tools I had learned by apprenticing at my aunt's side, finally landed, as I showed my naive friend how to prepare bottles, (I couldn't convince her to breastfeed...), give baths to her newborn, and become a mother at the young age of 15.
In 1996, I met a doctor at a birth who offered to have me come to his office to be his "nurse". This very willing and generous man allowed me to apprentice him in his solo OBGYN practice. Not having any technical education, he taught me everything from taking blood pressure, drawing blood, reading external fetal heart monitors and occasionally checking cervixes. I also “ran” the lab and exam rooms and helped Dr. S. open another office and interview midwives to add to his practice.
**Thanks Kim and Boden.
Seven months ago I attended a friend, at the delivery of her fifth child. This was her third birth at home with me as her birth assistant . Little did I know that the Lord would use this birth, out of ALL the others, to proclaim my next step.
I have been a childbirth educator, hospital labor support (Doula) and birth assistant to midwives for over 18 years. And I have been happy there. Happy to have a "career" that has come so naturally to me. Happy to have had a "career" that offered a certain level of flexibility so that I could be at home with my girls and provide a needed monetary cushion for our family. Happy to be...happy!
As a little girl, all I wanted as an adult was to be a mommy, a teacher and have my hands in "birth". And thats exactly where the Lord put me! In spite of all my "fleshly" choices, with the birth of my first daughter, he slowly revealed to me His plan for my life.
Beauty from ashes...His promise to us....
My path to becoming a midwife really began as a little girl as I heard the story of my younger brother's birth. When I was eighteen months old, my brother Scott, "Scotty" to me, was accidentally born at home. So often I heard the story of how my dad held me in his arms as we watched Scotty's entrance, that I have always been able to picture it in my mind's eye. Scotty and I became instantly bonded. Whether it was witnessing his arrival into the world, our close age, or the fact that we both have red hair in a family of dark hair and eyed parents, I don't know. Probably all of it together!
Being raised in the country, gave me lots of opportunities to experience birth even if it was only from the perspective of being a "midwife" to a loved cat, dog or a very fertile hamster. My Aunt Winnie had an enormous impact on cultivating my natural interest in pregnancy, birth, and babies. When I was 7, she gave birth to her first daughter and invited me in her life as an active participant in all care of her newborn. Her faith in me at such a young age built my confidence; my love for it all continued to grow with the births of her next 2 girls.
When I was 16, a good friend of mine became pregnant and it seemed to be a natural thing for me to come along beside her. From the beginning, I became her "mentor" in all aspects from helping her tell her parents, to translating information about pregnancy and then delivery to her. Unfortunately, the hospital would not allow me in with her...."It’s no place for a teenager." I was told. So I camped outside her labor room for hours on end and performed as a “Hallway Doula” with the only thing I could do; pray and throw words of encouragement through the open doorway as the nurses came and went. After Josh's birth I continued to support and mentor my friend. All the tools I had learned by apprenticing at my aunt's side, finally landed, as I showed my naive friend how to prepare bottles, (I couldn't convince her to breastfeed...), give baths to her newborn, and become a mother at the young age of 15.
At the age of 18 and the casualty of divorce, I met and fell in love with my wonderful husband. At the age of 19 (Dave 26), and as we were preparing for a big wedding, we learned we were expecting. Earlier than we had planned, but welcome all the same, I knew in my heart that God had prepared me for this all along. After experiencing through my friends birth how a hospital could control your birth experience, I knew that was not how it was going to be for me. During this time my Aunt Winnie discovered that she too was expecting her fourth baby! Our children would be born two months apart and again we were partners in the nursery, only this time I had a baby of my own!
Luckily, Dave and I found a wonderful, Bradley instructor. Her encouragement and education began to nurture the seed of my future. On July 31st, our beautiful daughter, and "Bradley" baby, Molly Grace was born after 24 hours of demoralizing back labor. Hard, yet powerful, I learned so much and it bonded us tightly. At 23, Molly is an absolute joy, and she and I are still tightly woven. Over the next 4 years, as I navigated marriage and motherhood, the pull to be involved somehow with birth remained. I decided to pursue being a childbirth educator; Bradley seemed the obvious place to start. I taught classes out of my home and simultaneously began offering labor support free of charge. With only my personal experience, instincts and brief education, I forged through a very closed-minded local hospital and birth by birth gained the respect of the nurses and doctors.
In 1996, I met a doctor at a birth who offered to have me come to his office to be his "nurse". This very willing and generous man allowed me to apprentice him in his solo OBGYN practice. Not having any technical education, he taught me everything from taking blood pressure, drawing blood, reading external fetal heart monitors and occasionally checking cervixes. I also “ran” the lab and exam rooms and helped Dr. S. open another office and interview midwives to add to his practice.
During this time I attended as many births as possible, training others along the way, and eventually transitioned into birth assisting for various midwives. I attended ALACE training, became certified in Neonatal Resuscitation and worked toward certification with DONA. I was an active member of La Leche League and entertained leadership but didn't have enough time! In 1994, I gave birth to our second, precious daughter, Kendall. Her birth began as a home birth and ended as a transfer to the hospital after 4 days of labor and failure to progress. Not as I planned but the experience only added to my "resume". After Kendall's birth, I knew I was suppose to return home to home school the girls and did so. At this time I began my own business. I specialized in private childbirth education classes, breastfeeding counseling, homebirth, birth assisting, and hospital labor support. In addition, I re-wrote a childbirth curriculum geared towards Dr. S's patients and offered classes exclusively to them at his office in the evenings. Eventually word got out that my classes were not the run of the mill childbirth classes and due to much interest, opened enrollment to others.
In 1998, I gave birth, this time at home, to another beautiful daughter Emma, with wonderful Certified Nurse Midwife in a practice I assisted. I continued doing all the above until 1999. Dr. S. moved his office and I decided to slow down and only offer classes to private clients. Although only having actually delivered a small number of babies on my own, I have attended approximately 500 deliveries.
I have had the experience of being with single women, scared teenagers, women with strong marriages and women in weak ones. Women with wanted babies and unwanted. I have attended adoption births and been with husband and wives as they have held there dying or still born babies. The most apparent thing to me then and now is that when a woman or girl is in the process of giving birth, regardless of the situation, that as a supporter I have the opportunity to put their hand in the hand of God’s as they move through what some think of as a time of “crisis”, instead into the reality of embracing it as a time of “catalyst”... I have the privilege of watching families being born, relationships mended, and joy being birthed right before my very eyes.
So humbled am I....
I have continued to offer labor support and birth assisting but have “reeled” in quite a bit as the needs of my family and my health have needed attention from me that I could not give while running at that pace. The Lord has used the last few years to transition me from one Life to another. He has helped me re-examine my priorities and relationships and to make sure they are in order. Now I can see why He did this when he did.
What has come very naturally to me from the first time I witnessed birth as a baby myself, to delivering my own children and helping with the delivery of others, I have realized it is, to sound very cliché, a calling that only some receive. I used to think all women had this within themselves and you choose it or not, but now I know it chooses you and that I have been chosen.
As I move to yet another level of this process, I am excited to see what will be added to my journey, where it will take me. I have faith in the fact that God has had His plan for me mapped out since the beginning. I know I can trust that as I walk by faith, He will carry me and all I have to do is obediently let Him do it!
At this point I am in continual prayer about where this journey will take me. I can imagine all kinds of scenarios! I know I can trust what God has shown me over the last few years about myself and who I am in Him. He will, as well, show me through His word, Dave, and others that He has placed in my life for this purpose, the direction I should go. I am learning to gather “manna for today” and trusting that He will provide for tomorrow.
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