"Asher"- Apparently just a formality

It's incredible what comes out of my mouth when I am talking to a tiny human being all day long.  Although I have spent the majority of my life hanging out with kids, there is something different about being with my child 24/7.

The other day I was talking to Asher and called him a "pumpkin nugget".  Pumpkin nugget??  What the heck is a pumpkin nugget?  Sounds like a magical bean that should be found by a child in the forest, planted in the ground, and then grow into a 65 foot pumpkin that leads to a land in the clouds.  After the nugget incident I began reflecting on the other names directed towards the new Graham family member.  Sadly, there are enough names to be divided into categories...

Inspired by animals:
Koala Bear
Inchworm
Turtle
Roly Poly

Based off Physical Characteristics:
Big Cheeks
Chubster
Puppy Eyes
Big Smiles
Baby Face

Created from his behavior:
Pirate- has one eye open and the other shut... happens often
Mr. Struggle- when he just can't get settled
Straw Face - my favorite face that he makes
Stretch Master
Snorter

Just because I am his mother:
Little man
Sweet Pea
Cutie Pie
Buddy Boo
Precious Boy

I am not sure what makes it acceptable to call him these names just because he is a tiny person.  Think about a situation where I call an adult Chubster.  Obviously rude.  Koala Bear?  Plain weird.  Buddy Boo?  Out right embarrassing.  But since Asher is only 2 feet long and 4 weeks old, it's totally OK to name him with these ridiculous words.

Honestly, I did not expect to be one of "those moms" who calls their child silly things.  Otha and I don't call each other things like Muffin Cakes or Sweety Bear or any pet name for that matter... thankfully.   So for me to name Asher with words other than his legal name was a bit surprising.  But I am addicted.  There I confessed... I am a ridiculous-baby-name-labeling addict.  I can't help it.  The words just fall out of my mouth whenever I interact with my son.  I need a recovery program.  Poor kid will get teased by his peers if I am not on a 5 year recovery plan; 5 years is adequate right??  Surely at age 4 he won't be completely emotionally damaged if the words Pumpkin Nugget slip out of my mouth.  Let's be honest for a moment:  Pumpkin Nugget has to be the first name obliterated from my vocabulary.  I'm embarrassed by Pumpkin Nugget.

But to prove that I am not completely crazy for wanting to describe my son, here is some evidence that I am least somewhat accurate:

Koala Bear

Mr. Struggle

Roly Poly

Big Cheeks

Almost Straw Face... imagine his lips in a more perfect tiny circle

That's all for now.  I apologize in advance, Asher, for any emotional scarring I might cause you due to my name calling.  

Home Birth and Hospital

To wrap up the birth experience, I wanted to write down answers to some questions I have been asked the past 2 weeks.

Do you regret going the home birth route considering how everything turned out?

Absolutely not.  At NO POINT have I regretted choosing to have a midwife and labor at home even though we ended up transporting to the hospital.  The reasons we chose to do a home birth in the first place still stand just as strong.  First off, we still were able to form a relationship with Erin that I am ever-so thankful for.  The fact that Asher came out in the hospital does not change the facts that...
* Erin came to our home for each visit
* I never had to waste time in a waiting room
* She genuinely cared about getting to know us
* There was never a time crunch during pre-natal appointments because of other patients
* I never had to talk to a receptionist or nurse before getting my questions answered.  Erin responded to every text and phone call quickly and usually followed up the next day to double check on how things were going.

Also, I am so grateful we were able to labor at home.  I still was able to experience labor in my own environment with music, lighting, and all the people I wanted to be there.  And it's the little things that count, like getting to pee in your own toilet every hour instead of a random toilet in the hospital or knowing that I am the one who purchased the washcloth that is being put on my neck.  A huge thing was also the contrast of nurses constantly in and out of the room verses Erin taking a hands off approach and let me labor how I needed to and how I wanted to.  She sat back and watched, answered questions when I had them, and gave positive encouragement through the whole journey.  I could also eat and drink what I wanted and when I wanted it- which was a huge blessing for my energy level.

Another great aspect about laboring at home was the lack of time pressure.  At no point did I feel that if I did not push Asher out before a certain hour mark that I would need intervention; I knew that my body would do what it needed for as long as it could before we would need to seek help.  If we had started out labor in the hospital, there is no way they would have let me labor for 38 hours.  And as much as it hurt, I am SO thankful that I was able to experience child birth pain without medication the first 33 hours.  The fact that I did not have the option at home helped me put my game face on and focus on labor instead of focusing on when I could be given medication.  I really felt like I got to experience the agony a woman's body goes through trying to push out another human.  Weirdly enough, I am so thankful for that experience.

The list is endless of why we chose a home birth and why those reasons are deeply rooted despite circumstances.  But you get the gist.  If I had the chance to rewind time, I would still chose a home birth.

Do you regret transporting to the hospital?

Again, absolutely not.  If Asher's head had not been turned sideways and stuck in my pelvis, then sure, I would regret transporting.  I feel like I could have pushed him out.   But that was not reality.  The reality is that there was nothing else we could do to get him out with the energy level I had and the way he was positioned.  In the last hour, I told Otha I had nothing left in me.  With Otha's encouragement, we tried the last tactic possible of pushing before deciding to transport.  If I had not tried the last option and transported, then I probably would regret transporting.  I would always wonder, "what if I had just tried one last time at home?".  But I did try everything and Asher was still stuck.

We knew upfront and told plenty of people that we were not anti-hospital.  If we needed help, we would get help.  Choosing a home birth was not about completely avoiding the hospital setting... it was about choosing to have an intervention-free labor if the labor was free of complications.  We fully believe that doctors and nurses are used to save lives every day when it is needed.  We did not want to waste their time with a delivery if it was not needed and we could do it with the help of a fully trained midwife.  But we did need help, so we went and got help.  No shame.

Overall, Otha and I both feel that we were blessed with the best team of nurses and doctors to finish off labor considering we started out at home.  At first we got the crazy looks and comments from the nurses until Erin showed them my legitimate charts and blood work.  Once they knew we were not irresponsible people who up and decided to try it ourselves, their skepticism turned into kindness and support.  Our head nurse and the doctors told us multiple times "We want to honor your original birth plan"... "We know you can push him out since that is what you were going for at home"... "We know you want this to be as intervention-free as possible"... "We want to try ____ first since that is what you would have wanted at home".  I cannot express how thankful we were for all of their support.  We could have been with a staff who threw our birth plan out the window or who thought we were crazy even after looking at my official chart.  But they did everything possible to help us avoid a C-Section and then let me have skin to skin time right after Asher was born, breastfeed shortly after, etc... All the things that we requested were granted with that first hospital team we worked with.  For the next few days we were "that couple who did the home birth/midwife thing".  It was our new identity with every new shift of nurses we had and hospital staff that we interacted with.  So we still had some friction with staff that were not on board with our requests in the hospital, but honestly it did not matter considering the treatment we had with the labor team.

Are you disappointed you had to transport to the hospital?

Yes.  Although it was the necessary thing to do, everything in me wanted to have Asher at home.  I wanted to hold him for an infinite amount of time after he was born, help give him his first bath, watch Erin weigh him for the first time.  I wanted to take a shower in my own bathroom after giving birth and then climb into my own bed with Otha and Asher and rest together.  I wanted our first few days as a family to be in our apartment instead of a hospital room.  I wanted to be free of an IV hanging out of my arm for 3 days.  I wanted Asher to be free from being taken away to the nursery every day for testing.  I wanted to give birth to my son without any medical intervention and experience what so many women have experienced before me.  I wanted to be free from laying in a hospital bed on my back when pushing Asher out.  I wanted to be free from stereotypes that hospitals are the only "safe" option for giving birth to a child.  I wanted to prove that home birth can be done and it can be a beautiful experience.

I dread people knowing that we transported simply for the sake of people doubting home births.  That is the most disappointing thing about our circumstance for me, that people will still have a negative view of using a midwife instead of an OB.  But it was not the fact that we were at home or the fact that we were under Erin's care that we had to transport and I really, really want people to know that.  We transported because I had nothing left in me and Asher's head was stuck.  Reminder- it took 5 different people at the hospital trying to turn his head and ripping my insides open to do so.  So it was not a "home birth issue", it was a circumstance issue.  Ok, I am glad I got that out.  I still encourage EVERY WOMAN who gets pregnant to seriously consider all of her options for childbirth.  If you still chose a hospital- that is great, I am just glad that you did your research and took the time to think about it.  That is my desire more than people choosing to use a midwife, is for people to take the time and actually think about all of the possible avenues to take instead of just going with the flow of society.  Ok, I could go on forever.  I am stepping off my soap box.

Recap- I loved shooting for a home birth, am thankful for the much needed help the hospital provided for us, and want all women to know there are options out there.

How could I talk about Asher and not put a picture of him?  Here he is...

Disclaimer:  We are not avid baseball fans.  In fact, neither of us really like watching baseball.  But we are so thankful for hand-me-down clothes!!!  Just didn't want anyone to get confused about the Graham family sports interest based on our son's clothing.

Asher's Birth Story

How did labor go??  It was quite the journey, my friend.

 DO NOT READ IF YOU DO NOT WANT TO KNOW ABOUT DETAILS OF A BIRTH.

Pre-labor symptoms began Friday night, July 1st while Otha and I were making a home-made apple pie.  While making this delicious blend of apple goodness, I noticed I was having contractions about 5 minutes apart for several hours.  We were hopeful, but knew that pre-labor could last several days before the real deal kicks in.  So the days passed on waiting for signs of legitimate labor.

The real chef in charge of Pie Project 2011. 

Wednesday morning I woke up a little before 4:15 am for my 4th trip to the bathroom for the night.  I noticed my mucous plug had come out (WHEN I SAID DON'T READ THIS IF YOU DON'T WANT BIRTH DETAILS I MEANT IT.  IT ONLY GETS WORSE).  I excitedly returned to bed to tell Otha about the mucous plug and noticed that I was having period-like cramps that came with a good dose of pain.  So we began timing the cramps and they were 4 minutes apart and lasting a minute long.  Labor at last.  I texted our midwife- so modern- and told her the situation and she replied that it sounds like real labor and she was on her way over.  Thus time for a phone call to my parents for them to begin driving down.  We also began preparing the environment for our ideal labor:  put on my birth playlist, lit candles, got lotion ready for massages, etc.  

Shortly after Erin (our  midwife) arrived, she and Otha began setting up the birthing pool in the living room since it seemed like I was progressing fairly quickly.  Contractions were becoming more painful and closer together.  By 9:30 I was in the birthing pool.  HUGE RELIEF.  Being in the water decreased my pain at least 50%.  However, my body relaxed too much and labor slowed down significantly, leaving us all just waiting for my body to speed up again.  So I got out of the pool, went for a walk with Otha and tried the pool again upon return.  Again, labor slowed down.  Erin then identified that I was dealing with "performance anxiety" since everyone was just waiting on me for something to happen.  As much as I hate to admit it, my people pleasing tendencies had come to town and I really was stressing out about how I was waisting people's time by my labor slowing down.  So everyone but Otha left for a few hours.  We found ways to waste the time while stopping to massage through contractions and waiting for my body to kick it up a notch.  My parents came back in the afternoon and played cards with me while Otha got caught up on some much needed rest.  Meanwhile, my contractions were increasing in frequency and strength.  12 hours- done.

Morning pool attempt #2.

By 6:00pm, Erin had come back and brought herbs for me to take every 15 minutes- black cohash, blue cohash, and goldenseal.  They tasted disgusting but helped intensify contractions even more.  Erin then measured my progress and I was only 3 cm dilated after so many hours of labor.  However, I was 100% effaced and Asher was at a +1 station, meaning he was very, very close to the outside world. So Erin encouraged me to rest as much as possible and let her know if contractions became unbearable or I had the urge to push.  

At 1am, I was having difficulty breathing through contractions due to the immense pain.  So we called Erin and she came over to check my progress again.  Only 4 cm dilated after 7 hours of labor since the last check.  People average 1 cm of dilation an hour... obviously I am not average.  She manually opened my cervix to 6 cm, since my cervix was already so thin and just needed some help moving out of the way.  I continued to walk between contractions and then both my mom and Otha double teamed massaging my back during the contractions.  Although pain was increasing with each contraction, I knew that labor would eventually end and Asher would arrive.  

My amazing coach working hard to help me through contractions.

26 hours into labor, Erin decided to break my water since I was dilated to a 7, almost an 8 to help things progress quickly.  Yes, she broke my water her finger during a contraction.  I then climbed back in the birthing pool since all signs showed that I was well into the Transition portion of labor at this point.  According to Erin, you are only supposed to be in the birth pool for 2 hours before physiologically things automatically slow down.  So we went into the pool with high hopes that transition would end, pushing would begin, and the baby would come within the next two hours.  My body was not on the same page with our plan.  I continued to be in transition all 2 hours in the pool.  Transition = agony.  I am not exaggerating... I cannot express the pain I felt during contractions.  My whole body felt like it was going to explode.  Otha and my mom were once again Allstars and worked incredibly hard to help me through each contraction about 2-3 minutes apart now.  

I am obviously a little more miserable this time in the pool.  Thanks mom for helping!!

When the 2 hours of pool time ended, Erin worked on opening my cervix more and found I had an anterior lip that would not move out of the way.  We decided to go ahead and try pushing at this point.  To help open up my pelvis more, we chose the squatting position for pushing which we stuck with for about 2 hours.  Erin quickly found that Asher's head was facing sideways in my pelvis.  This created a huge problem since the shape of his turned head was not matching up with the opening of my pelvic bone.  Therefore, with each push Erin tried to turn his head and push open my pelvis to try to help Asher's head through.  Needless to say, it was a painful process.  At this point I was extremely tired and simply driven by motivation that Asher would be there soon.  His head was so so close to coming out if only it would turn.  When my body could not handle the several hours of squatting and pushing any more, we moved to the bed to try and push there.  My mom, Erin's assistant, Otha, and Erin all held parts of my body to help me through each push since my energy was draining too quickly.  At this point I told Otha that I did not have anything left in me.  I was exhausted.  Nothing to give.  We tried several more times after this and all the tricks Erin could think of before we had no other option except to transport to the hospital.

Trying to push...worst pain ever. 

We made our way to the hospital around 1pm.  My contractions were out of control painful to where I would just collapse on the ground with each one hoping someone would permanently knock me out.  At this point I was sincerely hoping for a C-Section with full-blown anestesia.  I just wanted to get Asher out ASAP.  Since we did not have an OB, St. Josephs assigned us a team of doctors and nurses who were absolutely incredible and wanted to honor our original birth plan as much as possible.  They informed us that they would do whatever they could do avoid a C-Section and allow me to still push out the baby.  Looking back, I am so thankful for their attitudes.  But in the moment I wanted to scream at them and say that I cannot handle any more pain and I am going to die if they don't get the baby out that very second.  Thank the Lord I was in too much pain to speak my mind.  

They gave me a hefty dose of an epidural as quickly as possible so that I could get some rest before trying to push again.  Instantly I found relief!!  I literally could not feel ANYTHING in my lower body.  The only reason I knew I was still having contractions was listening to Asher's heart rate speed up every two minutes.  Needless to say, I quickly drifted off to sleep.  I awoke probably an hour and a half later to the medical team coming in to see if I was ready to push again.  Because I was already 10 cm dialated at this point, my body was freaking out and I was shaking uncontrollably.  Felt like a drug addict.  But we decided to go ahead and try pushing sweet little Asher anyway.

Feeling completely wiped out at the hospital.  Note my swollen face.  Really, I should be a contender in a Labor Beauty Pageant.

Due to his head still being turned sideways, the medical team was having the same problem that Erin was having trying to turn it during contractions.  Not kidding you, at least 5 different doctors and nurses took turns trying to turn his head with each contraction while I pushed.  At least FIVE sets of hands continually went inside of me, one after the other.  Our head nurse (who was absolutely incredible) literally said to me: "I am destroying your vagina!  I am so sorry!".  She was the champion, however, who was able to keep her hand inside in between contractions to hold Asher's head in a correct position for the next contraction.  Way to go Samme!  They continually told me to push, but as a reminder I could not feel anything.  So pushing was a complete mental game for me while Otha held one leg, a nurse held my other leg, Erin helped me breath through contractions, my dad continually gave me water, my mom was by my side, etc... It was quite the production.  So once Asher's head could be held in the correct position, they took my temperature and it had climbed to 103.7... not ideal.  They decided the next best step to get him out ASAP was to use the vacuum.  One of the doctors attached a suction cup to Asher's head and would pull when I would push.  After three more contractions, Asher was out!!!!  

6:00 pm July 7, 2011.  38 hours of labor.  

I will write some other time about the blessings of both worlds we experienced- home birth and hospital. God completely provided from start to finish and we couldn't have asked for anything better in those difficult circumstances.  As of now, we are just so thankful for Asher to be out of the womb, healthy, and finally home.

Tick-Tock, Tick-Tock...

I am excellent at waiting.  And by excellent I mean awful.

Patience usually does not make my top ten list of strengths.  So why am I surprised by my desperation for this baby to come?  I am pretty sure pride has something to do with it.  Ok, ok I am very sure pride has something to do with it. "I will not be one of those women who go crazy after their due date."  "I will take each day with grace, joy, and be the ultimate over-due pregnant champion." "I will conquer my emotions for the sake of being sane."  "I will set the example for all those over-due pregnant women to come after me."  EPIC FAILURE.

I officially am that woman who cannot function because a specific set of 24 hours has been completed.  It's done.  Over with.  June 25th has come and gone with a human still hanging out inside of me.  I want to pretend that I am fine and handling these past few weeks with an incredibly high spirit.  But that's not true at all.  There is an even deeper issue here than lack of patience that has been a consistent struggle for me:  I am horrible at resting.  Resting = unproductive.   Unproductive = waisting away my life.  Waisting away my life = worst thing ever.

During my college journey, I have had multiple people whom I love dearly call me out on my issues with resting.  It's just not healthy.  If I ever did rest, by-golly it was going to be scheduled in my planner. "Resting- watch a movie.  7-9pm."  So here I am with more time on my plate than I have ever had in my life and I am going insane.  My planner has so much white space- it's embarrassing.  See how sick this situation is?  A great deal of my identity has been wrapped up in having purpose every day whether with people, keeping our apartment tidy, running errands, my job, etc.

 You think I would have realized awhile ago that this is a great time to practice rest and really seek out what God wants me to learn in this waiting period.  But no, not me.  Not until Sunday night did I realize I have been avoiding any growth that could and should have been occurring during this time.  When I have been praying each day for patience, really I have been asking God to make labor start that very instant so I could be done with this awful life of constant rest.  My instinct is to find a project to do, not sit and be thankful for this unique and blessed time that I will probably never have again.  Now I am not saying that suddenly I know how to appreciate having nothing on the agenda except to spend time with my wonderful husband.  But I am more aware that this has potential to be a great season if I would surrender to it.  It's ok to not have anything planned and just go with the flow of each beautiful summer day.  After all, we are about to have a CHILD and our entire life will be changed FOREVER with someone else to take care of DAILY.

A sweet young mom in our community, Terri (she was 16 days over due with her last pregnancy), wrote me a note on Sunday encouraging me to embrace this time and ask God to further prepare me to be a wife and mom.  She also addressed the issue of not wanting to be around people, let alone loving them as they ask about the baby.  Everything she said hit the nail on the head and addressed everything I have been feeling.  I have never wanted to avoid people so much in my life.  Honestly, I know that they have loving intentions and truly care about Asher coming and wondering how I am doing.  I am just not mature enough to handle their love without becoming bitter at the reminder that I am STILL pregnant.  So I apologize to everyone who has asked me out of love and I have given you a short, unloving, or dishonest response.  Please have grace and forgiveness for me.  I am an immature 22 year old who is 10 months pregnant and terrified of unpredictability- which is my entire life right now.

Hopefully by the time Asher comes I can say "I am excellent at waiting.  And by excellent I mean I am getting better."

Check out this sweet picture Juliette took.  There's a baby in there, just in case you were wondering.

This is me telling Asher how he needs to come out that day.  This picture was taken over a month ago.  Kids struggle with obedience, I understand.

Perks of Pregnancy

Despite the fact that I just want to complain about how I am over-due and throw a fit, I decided this morning to dwell on the positive things about pregnancy that will no longer exist when we meet Asher.  I know that seems mature.  But don't be mistaken, I have a meltdown about every day due to my lack of patience.  So resist your temptation to be impressed.

*The rate that I go through roles of toilet paper is astounding.  Several per week.  It's just what happens when there is a human squishing your bladder 24/7, causing you to pee at least every hour.  But as much as we have had to buy more toilet paper, it still comes out to be much cheaper than what we will be spending on diapers.  So overall, it's a financial blessing in the toileting budget for the Grahams to be pregnant comparatively to our near future with an infant.  Hey, it's the little things.

*Carrying this baby around.  When pregnant, I NEVER have to worry about leaving the baby in the car, carrying both the baby and groceries, cleaning the apartment while still having the baby close to me.  My uterus is a natural sling that the baby never leaves.  I don't have to fight guilt of neglecting my baby if I need to take a shower or get something done around the apartment while the baby is crying to be held.  Even when we went swimming yesterday, I did not have to worry about the baby drowning because I was not holding it.  If I go under water, Asher goes under water.  No big deal.

*Adding some weight to my body has not been the most fun process, but I know that there is a limit.  I am full term and Asher is about 7 pounds.  The likelihood of Asher being over 10 pounds in the womb is minimal (yay for a small baby).  However, when Asher is born, Asher will continue to grow and grow and still want to be picked up and held.  It's a lot easier to say yes to holding a 7 pound baby in the womb than a 30 pound child who squirms in your arms.  Post birth child weight limit = 300+ pounds.  Yes please, give me the 7 pound baby inside my uterus.

*SLEEP.  I know this seems obvious, but I don't think I will fully grasp the glory of my current sleeping habits until Asher is born.  Right now I can go to sleep at 9pm and wake up at 10am (with frequent bathroom trips in between) with no consequences.  If I slept like this after Asher is born, someone should call CPS.  I can also take a nap whenever I want to.  After Asher is born, I am at the mercy of his sleep schedule.  Of course Otha will be there to help, but let's be candid- I have the nutrients to feed this kid 10 times a day, Otha does not.  AND Otha is incredible and still has a job to support our family while my new job is to take care of the baby.  So my people-pleasing complex will have difficulty handing off a crying baby to Otha in the middle of the night knowing he has to work in the morning.

*When I am pregnant and don't feel like working out, I don't have to.  People don't look a full term pregnant woman in the eye and judge them for being too tired to go walking that day.  They say "Make sure you get plenty of rest!".  But as a mom, if I don't work out I am letting the leftover baby weight win.  Not to mention I will need to work out for my own sanity to get outside and release some ever-welcomed endorphines to compensate for crazy-new-mom-hormones.  It's acceptable to have kankles as a pregnant woman... not so much when I have a 6 month old.

Other positives such as frequency of eating, wearing Otha's t-shirts, etc that are also great things about pregnancy, but I will spare you from more rambling.  Conclusion: Pregnancy definitely has perks that I will miss after Asher makes his big appearance.  I will continue to try and focus on these things as I avoid pulling my hair out watching the clock tick wishing for painful contractions.  Labor please come soon.

The Provision Collision

Two weeks ago Otha and I were heading home from Com Group early due to my crazy pregnant body.  Cramps mixed with absolute exhaustion made a concoction resulting in tears.  So we were stopped at a red light, I was crying and trying to explain to Otha how miserable I was feeling (it really was pathetic), then BOOOOM!!!  the Echo - my beloved car - lurches forward into the intersection.  Luckily we were the first people in line at the red light and therefore did not rear end anyone.  Also, the only cars going through the intersection were the ones turning left, so we also were not hit by cross traffic.  But what do I do?  I FREAK OUT.  My emotions went from "I'm crying because I don't want to be pregnant anymore" to "I'm hyperventilating out of shock, weeping uncontrollably, and I can't believe we just got in a wreck when I am 9 months pregnant".

Otha was a stud and calmly got out of the car, agreed with the driver who hit us to pull over into the HEB parking lot, then safely got us out of the road.  My hero.  Meanwhile he is also trying to calm down his crazy hysterical wife.  "Becca, you HAVE to breath.  You NEED to calm down."  Seriously, double hero.  The driver of the other car, or I should say ginormous truck, felt awful for crushing the fragile little Echo.  But then I increased his guilt ten fold whenever I made eye contact with him through my waterfall of tears holding my huge pregnant belly.  It wasn't my intention.  I just couldn't stop the freak-out-faucet.
Overall, the driver was very easy to work with, had insurance, and apologized an infinite amount of times.  Definite blessing!

So I know it doens't look awful, but the collision totalled the car.  Goodbye Echo forever.

Although I am grieving the loss of my dear friend, the Silver Bullet, we quickly realize this could benefit us in the long run.  The Echo was already headed down hill so we knew eventually we would need to get a replacement car.  What better way than to have someone's insurance pay for that replacement?  We ended up getting a check that covered the entire cost of the car, which is way more than we could have sold it for.  Huuuuge blessing!!  God totally provided for us in an unexpected way!!!!!

So what now, you ask?  A navy blue 2003 Honda Odyssey.  That's right, I am 22 years old and just bought a mini-van.  It's too much for me to process.  Married, pregnant, bought 2 cars in the first year of marriage and one of those is a family van.  fa;lskdfja;lksdjfl;kajsd;flkj  <------ jumbled feelings.
We decided that it made more sense to invest in a larger vehicle for the sake of our growing family, carpooling, and overall more storage space.  However, we did not want to buy a huge vehicle that was a gas guzzler.  Otha had searched for hours and hours trying to find a car that fit all of our criteria (financially, mileage, space, etc) with minimal luck.  The day before we were planning on going to Austin for multiple reasons including looking at cars, I prayed that God would make it very clear to us what a wise purchase would be.  I immediately took a nap after praying about it, woke up, and Otha called me into the living room to look at this van he found online.  Due to my recent prayer, we both felt really good about it, called the owner, and set up a time to come see it.  Make a long story short- we picked up the van from Austin yesterday as the official owners of the vehicle!!  We only had to pay a third of the cost due to the insurance check, then my uncle blessed us with $1000 out of no where, and my parents were so gracious and had set up an account for me growing up that we were able to use funds from.  Therefore the van is fully paid off- no car payment!   Once again God blew us away with his provision!!!!!

Although you may have seen this before, my new friend Courtney sent it to me and I think it's very fitting to celebrate our new van:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ql-N3F1FhW4

And be watching for me cruising around town in the coolest mom car around.  Alright, so it's not that cool, but it's practical.  And it has a DVD player.  And automatic sliding doors.  Jealous yet?  That's alright, you will see when I pick you up and take you for a spin.

Here's to 365 days...

A year ago I was walking barefoot down a path towards my future husband... minutes away from vowing to spend the rest of my life from him.  What a year it has been indeed.  As Otha and I celebrated our anniversary yesterday (a day early- don't judge, things aren't open on Sundays), we reminisced about some highs and lows of our first year of marriage.

Some lows:
*Making the effort moving to Austin physically, emotionally, financially, etc only to turn around and move right back to Bryan/College Station.
*Adjusting to the reality of pregnancy after our passions were further stirred for adoption at Together for Adoption conference.
*First trimester = miserable.
*The first month of marriage feeling isolated, surrendering expectations, and lacking wisdom in the communication department.

Obviously our lows had purpose and turned out to be blessings.  Even first trimester being miserable... my hormones were working hard to build a baby despite the 24/7 nausea.  So we really don't have anything to complain about.  They were just tough times.

Some highs:
*God bringing us back to College Station (includes jobs for both of us, rejoining Com Church, financial relief)
*Adding another family member who we are so so so excited to meet!
*Honeymoon.  Seriously I think about sitting on the beach with my mango juice in Belize often.  Probably too often.
*Learning how to love each other well!  Our conversations have so much more grace, understanding, and patience than they used to.

This past year has brought countless tears and moments of frustration only to be outdone by even more times of laughter, thankfulness, and being overwhelmed at God's intricate plan that dominates my own.  In all honesty, I want Otha to be the "crazy one" in our marriage.  But the longer we are married, the more obvious it is that I am crazy and am in need of Otha's love, patience, and grace on a daily basis.  I cannot count the number of times that I am crying for a ridiculous selfish reason and Otha provides comfort instead of judgement.  He offers wisdom instead of pity.  God was not kidding when He created marriage to model the relationship between Christ and the church.  Otha has been a consistent example for me of God's outstanding, unconditional love- I cannot begin to express how blessed I am in this marriage.

God gave me a man who is consistent, honest, full of knowledge, encouraging, thoughtful, hilarious, passionate, and of course, handsome.  Really, I don't deserve a man with any of these qualities.  But God gave me Otha anyway.  Otha has this gift of understanding me when my words fall short and has insight to see beyond what I can perceive inside my own heart.  It's incredible.  He is also an amazing leader.  Did I mention that he is GREAT at making decisions?  But in a gentle way that includes me in all the decisions even though I am awful at making any sort of choice.  He genuinely cares about what I think and incorporates that into every decision- it blows me away.  I am so thankful to have traveled this last year of adventure and changes with Otha Graham!!

In Belize for our amazing Honeymoon!  

Celebrating our anniversary.  So my stomach is a little bit bigger than it was a year ago.  No big deal, just growing a human inside of my body.  

I dominated Otha with cake on his face.

Note the icing on my cheek.  Otha sought out revenge as we enjoyed eating our wedding cake top.  And yes- it was still delicious after being in a freezer all year.  

I think we should eat cake every anniversary.