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Larrygirl97
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Name: Angela
Country: United States
State: Oklahoma
Metro: Oklahoma City
Gender: Female
Interests: photography, languages, new cultures, sea dragons, music (with a message or a beat, preferrably both), driving (alone, with my music), art (being something requiring talent that makes me stop and stare in wonderment), stars and other shiny things, reading people
Expertise: I'm an Angela-of-all-trades, master of none
Occupation: Student
Industry: Education/Research
Message: message meEmail: email me
AIM:  angelgrrl1997
Member Since:
1/27/2005
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| I'm a followerI've made the move. I've joined the ever-growing stampede. I have left xanga. Good-bye dear friend (I mean that as both xanga and the one person who reads my blog). To anyone who may be interested, my new blog can be found at micmomma.blogspot.com.
Hope to see you there!
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| How it Went DownI'm a mommy.
A real mommy to a real baby. And she is so precious. Every time I look at her face I think she's more beautiful than the last time. I cannot get over how precious she is and the fact that she's really ours and we really get to keep her (for as long as God allows).
She's already grown up so fast. Her umbilical cord stump fell off yesterday, so now she's a big girl with a real belly button. She slept through her 2am feeding last night, which means she slept from 11pm to 5am, which is considered by some to be sleeping through the night. She's sleeping in her own room now. And she's already gained a pound and a half (as of Tuesday, actually, so she could be a whole two pounds bigger than her birth weight by now). I just can't get over how fast she's changing. And yet only two weeks ago yesterday I was giving birth to her! It seems like so much longer!
For those who are curious to know the details, here's the story of her birth: (WARNING: It gets long)
On Tuesday evening, September 9th, I starting noticing contractions around 5pm. By 7ish, they were pretty regular at about 10 min apart, but that was nothing new for me. I had had plenty of false labor, some regular contractions, some not so much, and some lasting as long as six hours. I had learned not to get my hopes up at the first sign of action. Therefore, I continued to feel the contractions, notifying Philip with each one, who would then note the time on his watch and let me know how far apart they'd been. Tuesday nights happen to be our weekly small group Bible study and potentially false labor did not seem reason enough to call that off, so we headed over to our friends' home for a night of discussion and book bashing (which had become a regular event). We decided not to let them know right away - again don't want to get hopes up unnecessarily. As the night continued, I would pinch Philip's leg (which apparently grew to be pretty sore by the end of the evening), he would glance at his watch and then press the number of fingers coinciding with the number of minutes to my leg to let me know. Throughout the Bible study, the contractions increased from 10 to 8 to 6 to 4 minutes apart. Thus, by the time we got to the prayer requests, around 10:30 pm, we let the other couple know what was going on (and that no, Philip wasn't just looking at his watch because he was anxious to leave), added it to the prayer list, joked a little about what if this were real, and then left to take a walk, knowing that would either intensify real contractions or eliminate false ones.
At home, we added a few things to the hospital bag (which had been packed and in the car all evening anyway), took a few turns around the backyard and noticed the contractions were now 3 minutes apart and, yes, getting pretty intense, so we headed to the hospital at 11:00pm. Once there, we were notified that my contractions were moving along well enough, and I was dilated far enough (I'd already been 4 cm for a week by that point) that if I didn't start doing something on my own, they'd MAKE it happen - I was not leaving this time without a baby! I was more than happy to accept that.
Then we pretty much sat there for a long time, letting my body and Micaiah do their things. At some point the contractions, now centering completely in my back, got too intense for me to handle, at least for the hours more it would take, and I let it be known that I needed me some drugs. They doped me up on Stadol until I had dilated a little more for the epidural. The Stadol made me VERY happy, and VERY sleepy. Thus, I was pretty drugged during the epidural process, making it pretty easy to sit still for the needle - I was practically asleep anyway. I dozed off and on for a few more hours and Philip tried his best to rest by stretching out on three chairs, but after awhile the magic of my happy drugs seemed to wear off and there was no ignoring the contractions any more, no matter how many times I pushed my button to release more of the painkillers.
Then, through the pain, I felt the pressure - she was on her way out! I tried to let the nurse know but she was taking her time coming back, no matter how many times we pushed the call button. By the time we told her what was happening, there was almost no stopping this kid. THEN, the doctor who had just gotten on duty happened to be occupied in birthing a baby in the next room, but the nurse, noting my condition ran to the hallway, catching the doctor who was just getting off duty and told him, "If this girl pushes at all, she's going to have a baby!" Thus, despite his extreme weariness from his long night on duty, he scrubbed up and came on in. I pushed through three contractions (probably a total of 10 minutes) and suddenly there was a baby in his hands! And they were handing this bloody, squirming thing to me! (She was born at 7:36am on September 10)
I held her for a second before they took her to clean her up, after which we were to have an hour together before they took her to the nursery. However, in the process of cleaning her, they attempted to make her give that ever-important first cry, but instead she only grunted, not able to get a full breath with which to cry. Concerned, they wrapped her up, let us kiss her good-bye and whisked her off to the nursery. We sat, waiting for her to come back fine and happy. We made phone calls to family members (Well, Philip made calls, I was shaking so badly from all the adrenaline and such that I could barely speak). And we waited some more. Finally, I realized that generally the daddies get to be involved in the nursery action, so I sent Philip to see our baby girl while I continued to wait. And wait. He came back after what seemed like forever (it had been at least an hour and a half since she was born) to tell me that she was breathing really fast and the doctor was concerned about that so they were going to monitor it a bit more to see if they needed to do any tests. So I waited more, still expecting them to bring me my baby girl at any moment. I asked Philip one question, "Is she beautiful?" He assured me she was.
Long story short, after another hour and a half they transferred me to my hospital room, letting me stop at the nursery on my way to see her and touch her for a moment. A couple hours after that, I got to return to the nursery to hold her for the first time, for about 10 minutes, then we had to leave again. The blood tests had shown an abnormally high white blood cell count, indicating an infection, so she was put on antibiotics and was being fed through an IV, to help the respiratory problems. The next day she was still in the nursery, but I was able to feed her on my own - and she took right to it. Starting that day, the nurses called me in about every three hours, or when she appeared to be hungry, and I was allowed to feed her in the nursery. This was the only interaction I had with her throughout the days and they were very precious times for me. I loved getting to hold her and watch her eat.
It wasn't until the third day, Saturday, that the doctor finally gave the go-ahead for her to come to our room, with her breathing monitor and try life outside the nursery. And on Monday morning she was released from the hospital. They never figured out what had caused the high cell count or the breathing problems but she was now indicating every sign of a healthy baby.
Thus, we have our baby girl, Micaiah Aydan, safe, at home, and healthy as anything! We appreciate all the prayers that were said for her. I am so thankful for the extra time we had in the hospital, to ensure her health and allow me to recover fully. I am so grateful for my precious baby girl and cannot imagine how we lived before she came along; she seems such a natural part of our lives already.
And I love her. A lot.
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| Still in the womb, and my baby girl's already a tease.
We had a false alarm on Sunday evening and since then it's hard to get my mind back on the fact that she's still technically not due for two weeks, so she's still allowed to take her sweet time (even if I am 3 cm dilated). It's just so difficult when four days ago we were sitting in the hospital thinking this was it, our baby girl was coming, and now I'm back on the couch, watching Reba (not because I have to be, but because I'm lazy, I'm still perfectly healthy, in case you were worried), trying to remember that God is in control.
I've been tempted to go through the old tricks: go for a walk (a LONG walk), rub that special spot on the ankle they said not to massage a couple of months ago (because it supposedly can cause contractions), and a few other "solutions" that every woman who has ever had a baby heard from every other woman who has ever had a baby. The truth of the matter is, if I were to do something like that, rather than waiting, I'd be tempted to give myself the glory for promoting myself into the labor stage when, really, God is in control. He knows when she's coming and His timing is perfect. He will introduce her to the world when the time is right. I am reminded of Psalm 46:10, "Cease striving and know that I am God."
I am not in control. God is amazing and I put my trust in Him.
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| Not MY will, but Yours be doneI have too often heard the phrase, "God helps those who help themselves." It makes me sick. What does that even mean anyway? Unfortunately, the context I have heard this in tends to imply that while I am waiting for guidance from God, those around me seem to think I need to stop waiting and start acting. Really? So, when I have NO idea what God would have me do, and I want direction from Him more than any other thing, the "Christian" (as these are the ones touting this "wisdom") answer is to look around me, choose a road and just start walking . . . regardless of whether or not it's the one I'm supposed to be on.
It seems to me the Christian world fears inaction. In our fast-paced society, waiting equates to laziness. Is that Biblical? I have never seen anything in the Bible urging us to action without clear direction from the Lord. In fact, innumerable times we will find, rather, the phrase, "Wait on the Lord." (Psalm 27:14, 37:7, Micah 7:7 etc.).
The problem with the ideology listed above, of helping ourselves in order to invoke help from God implies this: our direction and help from God is contingent on ourselves . . . God needs us to act before He can act. Does that idea not negate the concept of an omnipotent God? When I "help myself" before receiving help from God, I tend to take some sort of credit for the blessings received as a result. Thus, I have no longer relied on God and seen his amazing, miraculous aid in my time of need, but instead I see MY actions and the results of MY deeds and MY helping myself. Most often, I will forget God even had anything to do with it.
Therefore, I choose to take myself and my will out of the equation. I will call upon the Lord, Who is worthy to be praised. And I will wait for Him, my redeemer, for my salvation.
"Cease striving and know that I am God." - Psalm 46:10 (NASB)
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| Philip sometimes drives me nuts. He tells me things I already know, or re-hashes decisions we have already made, trying to get to the same conclusion we have already reached. He tells me he has to "think out loud." It annoys me. Just think it through, then tell me what you came up with.
I have recently realized, I am just like him. Only, I don't have to think out loud, I have to think by pen. I've noticed that I tend to write a lot less than I used to . . . whether that be letters, journals, blogs, whatever . . . I used to get my thoughts out of my head and on to paper and everything seemed to make a lot more sense to me. Most importantly, writing was my most vital form of working out my faith with fear and trembling. I read older entries in my journal wherein I break down and confess to myself who I have become and who I want to be. I see the process begin wherein I work out who God has designed for me to be and where I am to be headed. I would write, and then I would act. I would discover what changes I needed to make and I worked toward change. I sought God and I found Him more often than not.
The same is no longer true. Far less frequently I sit down with pen and paper and honestly open myself up for examination. These days, I sit. I sit and I fill my mind with meaningless distractions to while away the time until the next distraction. When I find myself with no pressing need to fulfill (oh, yes, there are needs, but if they're not pressing, why worry I about it? - or so I tell myself), I sit . . . I turn on the TV to another droning sitcom or mindless game show . . . I turn to my computer to browse through Facebook to see pictures of other people living while all I do is sit. I do whatever I can to turn my mind away from seeing what is really there, from looking inside me and re-evaluating who I am and what I am doing with my life . . . the second of which equates to nothing, at least not anything of value to anyone but myself . . . and in the end what good will that have done? By avoiding my journal, I have avoided turning to God and asking him, honestly, "Who do You want me to be?" I think I fear the answer. The answer will require something of me, and I have grown far to accustomed to doing nothing.
Socrates has stated, "The unexamined life is not worth living." I would have to say, he's right.
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