A Letter to My Sons

My Dear Boys,

Every parent has dreams, things that they wish and hope and pray they will pass on to their children. Habits and manners, memories and ideals, morals and stories. Every parent wants their children to have a great childhood, one they will remember with fondness. I wish these same things for you. 

But lately, there has been so much controversy in our world: unrest, violence, prejudice, name calling, misunderstanding, disrespect, hurt. When I was a child, I think I was shielded more from these things. We didn't have social media. We didn't have the internet. We didn't think about things like terrorist attacks or transgender celebrities and thought that the Civil Rights movement was something in the past. 

Your world is different. 

I can't shield you from all of these things; it's impossible. Nor do I want to. At your young ages now, yes, I shield you from the big problems of the world, but sooner than I'd like to admit I won't be able to. They will be front and center - on a screen, from your friends, on a magazine in the checkout line. And we'll talk about them. It will be hard sometimes; uncomfortable, yes. Most of the time I'll be silently praying I'm somehow making sense without telling you too much or too little. But there is one thing I know I can tell you. One thing that if you remember nothing else, remember this:

A person is always a person FIRST. Created in the image of God, loved by that same God who longs for them to know Him Personally. 

That girl with the skin a different color than yours. That boy who talks a little funny and walks a little differently than you do. That man who doesn't feel like a man and has lived a life of confusion. That police officer who is trying to do their job well, and the one who has blinders on and isn't doing it so well. The blogger who spews out venom in the name of 'conservativism' or the news anchor giving a 'liberal spin' to a story. The terrorist who is so devoted to a false view of humanity they are willing to kill or be killed for it. 

They. Are. People.

Are there maybe sins to be addressed, mistakes to be corrected, honor to be restored and healing to take place? Yes. A million times yes. This does not negate that. Let me say that again - seeing someone as a Person FIRST does not negate any issues that may be there. But what it does is open a door for real walls to be torn down. Not ones we construct in our mind, not an 'us vs. them' mentality, but true, deep down at the core of our being walls. Insecurity. Pride. Failure. Feelings of being completely lost. Abandonment. The types of things that usually only come up in counseling sessions because they're hard and ugly and we don't want to admit that really, we all have them at our core. WE'RE ALL PEOPLE. We all need saving. 

And Jesus? He didn't come saying "Fix yourself so I can save you!" "Stop believing lies before I will be your friend!" No. He said to the worst of the worst, "Hey! I'm coming for dinner!" And he knew them as a person. He got into their lives, into their home, into their world. He didn't sugarcoat any sin issues, but his focus wasn't first on the sin. His focus was first on the person, and in so doing the person saw the person of Christ, and realized what they were not, but what they could be in Him. Because it is 'the kindness of God that leads us to repentance'.  

When we focus first on what is wrong with someone, we focus on the wrong thing. I can tell you full well if a random person comes up to me and tells me that how I'm mothering you boys is wrong, I'm going to write that person off immediately. Who are they to know? If a friend - someone who KNOWS me, the person me - tells me I'm doing something wrong, I listen. We have trust, a relationship, one where honesty is encouraged and hard things are done. And maybe then I change what's going wrong. But only then.

So my prayer for you boys, is that you'll ignore the shouts of social media. You'll ignore the banter of Blue vs. Red or black vs. white. Rather, you'll walk down the street, drive downtown, stop the man asking for change on the side of the road, and invite them to dinner. Spend time with their families. Let them see the love of Christ shining through you and know that something is not only different - but that something is GOOD. 

And I think everyone longs to see a little bit of that good these days.

'I love you and love you, and love you and love you,'

Mommy

Your Kids Have WHAT??? An FPIES and Leaky Gut FAQ

At least five times a week, probably more, I get asked questions about my boys and their food allergies. Questions range from the general 'how are they doing?' to the technical 'what does FPIES stand for?' to the more specific 'what do you do when they have a reaction?' If you're connected to us at all, you're probably aware that they have issues with food. Not only do I talk about it a lot (sometimes I get tired of me!) but it is a really huge part of our daily lives, so it's kind of hard to avoid. My answers to the questions vary, depending on how much time we have, who is asking and if they really want the full answer, or the short version.

So, I thought I'd answer some questions here! That way, if you're really interested, you can get the details that I may not be able to share in passing, and if you're not, you can totally skip over this post and I won't blame you. My hope is also that if someone is furiously scouring the internet for answers and someone who can relate to what they're going through, maybe they'll stumble on this post and know they're not alone in the crazy world of guts. Here we go!

1) What do you mean by 'leaky gut'?
     Our guts are the center of our immune system. Everyone's intestine's are lined with microscopic fibers and a thin protective coating, the purpose of which are to help break down food into amino acids and to keep particles that shouldn't be going into our systems from seeping out. Our guts are also the source of billions of bacteria, both good and bad. If the balance of bacteria is off, that can cause issues such as illness, allergies, eczema, IBS, fatigue and a host of other problems. That's why you always hear encouragement to take probiotics if you have to take an antibiotic for any reason - to restore the gut flora back to a healthy state.

When the gut flora is off balance, and the lining of the gut isn't stable, particles can slip through 'holes' in the lining and into the blood stream. Thus the term 'leaky gut'. Most babies have some of this until around 6 months when their digestive system matures and the holes close up. However, some babies can have larger holes that allow more unbroken particles through, which can lead to much bigger, more permanent problems.

2) How did your boys get this?
    Ahhh...the million dollar question! While we weren't inside their bodies to see exactly what happened, based on their symptoms, the timing of them and in talking with multiple doctors, this is what we've been able to determine: Jim's side of the family has a genetic predisposition to gut issues with the boys on their side of the family. It manifests itself differently with each boy, but it's one of those things that is well-known in the family, "oh, those Meador boys!" "Jimmy, you cried ALL THE TIME". You get the picture. With both boys, I was Group B positive (a type of strep that is very common in pregnancy) and mastitis (a breast infection) shortly after they were born. With Graham it was at 3 weeks, with Jude at 5 days. With Graham, I had antibiotics during labor for the Group B, and for the mastitis. With Jude, I refused antibiotics during labor after much research on Group B and tried to avoid them via natural means with the mastitis but it became absolutely necessary to have them - a lot of them. Referencing the question above, antibiotics kill off the good gut bacteria. Like, all of it. Gone. With Graham, I didn't know much about probiotics; with Jude, I was popping them like crazy trying to counteract the effects of the antibiotics. However, with the combination of genetics and the antibiotics, both boys started showing signs of reflux shortly after the antibiotic doses. With Graham it was within about a week or so; with Jude it was a couple of weeks after I had started them.

As best we can determine, the antibiotics damaged their guts more, allowing larger particles into their bloodstream. This begins a horrible cyclical process, where the body attacks the particle as a foreign object, because it's not supposed to be in the bloodstream. However, because the gut is damaged, it is unable to fight the 'foreign body' as well as it should, which allows more particles in and it begins all over again. Rather than amino acids, the whole food protein slips into the bloodstream.

3) What is FPIES and how did Graham get that?
     FPIES stand for Food Protein Induced Enterocolitis Syndrome. It's kind of like Leaky Gut on crack. Because we had no idea what was going on with him and it was such a ride trying to figure it out (more on that next), basically, his gut was continually being damaged. Once it has been fighting these 'foreign bodies' long enough, it develops into a chronic condition, one in which the T cells identify certain food portions as invaders every time they enter his body. Why certain foods affect him and others don't, we're not sure, as there are some pretty random ones. So, rather than his gut healing, it became damaged long-term, and will take a long time to heal.

4) How did you figure out what was wrong?
    Oh. This question. None of these are short answers, but this one is the one that is the longest. Not only in words, but in life lived.

Graham: We lovingly refer to our first 6 months as parents as 'the time when Jim hated our child'. Once Graham started with the reflux, we started paying attention to what I was eating, since I was breastfeeding. We immediately noticed a correlation between dairy and him screaming incessantly for hours on end. I gladly cut that out of my diet, but he was still miserable. I decided rather than do an elimination diet to do the reverse - purposely add one thing into my diet and see how he reacted. I got a coffee with soy milk, and within 4 hours he had projectile vomited 3 times. I ate an egg and he vomited so much I took a picture to document that the entire length of my arm was covered. And on and on. When he was around 3 months old, it was Super Bowl Sunday and we had turned on the start of the game. He started refluxing and up came large chunks of blood. We started driving to the emergency room but then called his doctor's on call line and she said it was safe to wait and bring him to her first thing in the morning. His esophagus was so damaged from all of the refluxing (and screaming probably) that it had torn. She prescribed a very high dose of Zantac to stop the bleeding and we gradually lessened his dose over time.

I was having a very hard time knowing that anything I was eating could be causing him pain, and it was a constant guessing game. For both our sakes', we tried a hypoallergenic formula that had the proteins already broken down. He still had a lot of issues (which I now know why via what we've figured out with Jude), but was SO much better in comparison. I still remember the first time we went to the chiropractor after switching; he couldn't believe it was the same baby. He used to scream every time we went, and this time he was smiling and laughing. When we started solids, certain foods would cause him to break out in a rash and vomit. Never immediately, but within a few hours. To make a long story a little shorter...I did a ton of research, kept a food log, documented his reactions to every food - what reaction, when it occurred, how long it lasted, etc. and took it to his doctor. At one year, she agreed to allergy testing and stool samples - everything came up fine, which was actually really frustrating. When you know something's wrong but on paper it looks fine...not cool. More research, more logs, more documentation. A friend stumbled on something about FPIES and said 'hey! this sounds like Graham!' I had never heard of it but immediately learned everything I could and brought everything in to the doctor again when he had just turned 2. She agreed he needed to see the GI. After more tests (holding your screaming two year old to get 5 vials of blood is awful, just FYI), he was officially diagnosed with FPIES.

Jude: As soon as he started showing signs of reflux, I was it like white on rice. Immediately let his doctor know, started monitoring everything I was eating, etc. Within less than a week of his symptoms starting, he began choking. Like, stop breathing face turning purple choking. There was one day I had him flipped over banging on his back, all the while sobbing and scrambling trying to remember infant CPR. After that incident, we got a Zantac prescription. The reflux didn't go away, but it did calm the acid enough to prevent the horrendous choking episodes. Around that time we decided to stop breastfeeding (will explain more about why later). We tried him on an organic dairy formula, and for a few days thought 'Yes! this is working! he doesn't have allergies!' Then he started choking again and was so constipated he was crying in pain. Boo. We switched him to the sensitive formula and the same. We avoided soy completely because that is Graham's biggest trigger and would potentially give Jude a worse reaction than the dairy. We switched him to Alimentum, which was what Graham had been on. For a bit, it was a lot better, but then he totally stopped pooping. Completely. When we helped him to go, what came out was dark green, mucous and runny. The reflux came back with a vengeance, but was more mucous as well, and he broke out with eczema. We immediately got a referral to the GI (remember Graham was 2 before he went - Jude was less than 3 months!) They ran tests and confirmed the milk protein allergy - his lactoferrin levels in his intestine were at 250; the normal range was 1-7. However, the GI thought that the Zantac and Alimentum were the best solution; I didn't. I ended up calling a D.O. that we consult with; he suggested immediately switching to goat milk, and adding colostrum to it, along with the probiotics he was already getting. I was able to secure some from our local Mennonite store, and then endured a couple of hellish days. Then, on day 3, after 5 weeks of not being able to go on his own at all, he pooped. And pooped. and pooped. It was insane how much he went - he ended up with hemorrhoids from so much straining. His eczema started to get better too. A couple of weeks later, it came back. We couldn't figure out what was going on, but the D.O. thought it was the Zantac. So we went ahead and cut it out cold turkey. Again, a couple of hellish days, then he started getting better. The eczema was almost gone! I did some more research and found out that Zantac has corn in it. The Alimentum is corn based. He is hypersensitive to corn. Funny thing is, Graham is allergic to corn as well, but was on both of those for a long time, which I think contributed to the FPIES and his gut not fully healing as it should have.

5) What are they allergic to?

Graham: Poultry, beef, dairy/casein, soy, corn, egg, peas, kidney beans, pinto beans, garbanzo beans, quinoa, lentils, nuts, green beans. He can now have organic pork and pears, both of which used to be on his list! Why organic pork? He is so highly sensitive to corn and soy that if he eats 'regular' pork, he'll react because of what the pig ate. (this is where I could go on a whole rabbit trail about GMOs and how it's transferred through our genetics over the years and is now affecting our children...) We tried, and it wasn't a good outcome. Thankfully we live in an area where organic meat is easy to come by!

Jude: Dairy/casein/lactose, soy, corn. This is what we know so far. He's also so sensitive that if we buy goat milk say, from Kroger, that isn't pastured and antibiotic-free, he has a reaction and we have a huge setback.   This is also why I stopped breastfeeding. I wouldn't have been able to accept meals from almost anyone without knowing exactly what was in it, if the meat was 'OK', etc.; would have to bring my own food basically everywhere - family's houses, restaurants, friends' houses, etc. And something as slight as a little bit of maltodextrin as a seasoning (it's corn) would affect him for a week or more. Having been through postpartum so badly last time my psyche couldn't handle that.  Considering he's only 4 1/2 months old and been on the goat milk for just over a month, we haven't been able to get a good baseline for more than a week yet, as we tried a couple different kinds and he had the Zantac in his system, etc.

6) What happens when they have a reaction?

Graham: it depends on what it is that he eats. On the minor end, like with kidney beans for example, he won't feel well for a day or so, will get a rash on his face and bottom and will have some nasty poops for a day or two. Like a typical virus, which is what his body thinks it is. On the serious end, like with soy, it's a lot worse. He once had 3 slivers of cucumber from a sushi roll that had soy sauce on it, or another time had about 5 pretzels that had less that 2% of soy in them. Around 2 hours later, he starts getting purple under eye circles and sunken eyes, and his face and bottom start breaking out. About 12-18 hours after, he spikes a fever, which can go up to 104 degrees. He'll feel well in spurts then go back to the fever and lethargy until he has a literal shitstorm (it's a LOT of poop) where everything he's eaten since the trigger food is barely digested and all comes out at once. When he was in diapers, that was lots of fun. The worst one he's had took about 3 days to get out, and his system started to go into shock afterwards - full body chills, low body temp, the whole bit. That's the danger of FPIES - he can go into septic shock because his system gets so backed up the toxins start leaking into his bloodstream.

He also has behaviors: dairy makes him super aggressive; corn makes him unable to focus at all. You can see it in his eyes when he's like this - his brain is going about 300 mph. He told me recently that his 'tummy felt wiggly, so I have to act wild to get all the wiggles to stop.' We tried snap peas this week as a food trial - it's a no go. Today he was very aggressive, hyper emotional, had diarrhea no less than 8 times and has a horrible rash. From 3 peas.

Jude: horrible horrible eczema - pussy and bleeding, can't poop on his own at all so gets very backed up (which also poses the risk of septic shock), can't sleep (up most of the night and won't sleep well during the day) and colitis (his intestines are inflamed and very painful). He grunts and strains all day because his intestines hurt so much, and wants to comfort feed which makes him then spit it back up because he doesn't need it but he wants something to make him feel better, or he'll scream til he gets it. It's sad. :( He's having a reaction today too, and we're not sure if it's the end of a weeklong reaction to some store-bought goat milk or what (sometimes it's worst at the very end of a reaction).

7) How are you treating it?
    Morning cocktails. Ha. But really, that's what we call them. Graham gets a small amount of orange juice mixed with a glass of water, probiotics, L. Glutamine (an amino acid to repair the gut lining), and enzymes (to help with the breakdown of food proteins and increase his immune system). Jude gets goat milk, an adult dose of probiotics split between his daily bottles, and powdered goat colostrum, along with a small amount of prune juice in every other bottle to help as he learns to go poop. Since he hasn't gone consistently ever, he's learning how to use those muscles and sometimes has difficulty and will make himself throw up pushing too hard.

Otherwise, food avoidance. We bring our food everywhere. For example, we went to the zoo with my brother recently, and I brought a cooler with a days' worth of food for Graham as there was literally nothing at the zoo we could purchase for him, and then a separate cooler with a days' worth of goat milk for Jude. Add those to the stroller with the diaper bag and Graham's seat was taken! We've also learned how to substitute lots of things - what to use instead of eggs or baking powder when baking; which brands he can have of certain items, etc.

8) Will they outgrow it?
     Eventually, if we can heal their guts. Jude's on a much faster track than Graham was at this point. Graham will possibly always have issues with dairy, soy and corn as he reacts so severely to those, but the others he should be able to eat eventually.

It's a wild ride. Tonight I was really over it. That comes in spurts. Most days we're used to it and it's just life, but sometimes I really, really hate it and it sucks. I'm thankful that they have been able to gain weight (and a lot of it!) despite everything, and that they both have the sweetest personalities! While I wish they didn't have to deal with this (or us too, let's be honest), I'm so thankful that God blessed us with them both, just the way they are. If you have other questions, feel free to ask!

when it doesn't look like you thought it would

I've had this post swimming around in my head for months now. I change things, I add things, I take some out...it seems as though I'll never get it all out. And maybe I won't? Because I'm still in the middle of it, and there's more to be shared, I am sure. But I've been ignoring the urge to just get this down, and I'm going to finally stop ignoring it.

While far from perfect, my life all the way through college was fairly easy. It had ups and downs - break ups, disappointments, failed friendships, new jobs, new schools, lots of missions trips where I learned a good deal. But not a lot that I could say was earth-shatteringly devastating or changed my life so drastically that I would always point to THAT time. Then I got married, and both of us decided to hit that growing, stretching life-altering stage AFTER the wedding. (which is fairly common) We had some really hard years, years where we honestly weren't sure we would stay married. And that shocked me. I knew people with hard marriages or who had divorced, but never assumed that would be something I would face, and multiple times, no less. It didn't look like I thought it would.

Then we added another person to our lives in the form of a baby. We were so excited and scared and every other emotion that comes with pregnancy, but we were ready! Except we weren't. Not only did that baby turn our world upside down like every baby tends to do, but I was hit with depression - something I again assumed happened to other people. Not me. Our baby was always in pain and cried more often than not for a solid 5 months, and I ended up being a research-aholic trying to figure out what was wrong and kind of missed that whole 'enjoying the baby' phase. It didn't look like I thought it would.

Fastforward a couple of years and we're contemplating a move - to IOWA of all places. 'Corn'-y jokes aside, (see what I did there?) we were excited! Closer to family, a slower pace of life, ability to stay home and raise some babies and some chickens. So we put our house up for sale and I quit my job. But said house didn't sell...and didn't sell...and didn't sell. And all of a sudden I was faced with the prospect of staying where we were, in the same house, except all of a sudden I was a stay-at-home mom with not a lot of stay-at-home mom friends and no idea how to change our entire way of living when we hadn't actually gone anywhere. It didn't look like I thought I would.

Then we had Jude. A great labor and delivery, and an immediate bond with this baby. I had let go of a lot of expectations for those first few weeks (so I thought) and it was blissfully exhausting. Sure, I had a case of mastitis from hell and didn't sleep a lot, but this time I was enjoying our baby. He seemed 'normal' to me (whatever that is in baby-world). He slept, he cried when he needed something, he ate, he pooped, the end. We did a lot of bonding and a lot of cuddling and I finally felt like yes!! This is that new baby phase everyone talks about that I definitely did not feel the first time. I loved it. About 3 or 4 weeks in, things started to change. He was getting reflux, I wasn't getting milk and none of us were getting sleep. The reflux got worse and we switched him to formula. Hard, but I was OK with it. Then the reflux got worse, the formula wasn't working, and all of a sudden we were faced with another scenario like last time: our baby is in pain, we don't know what's wrong, and that's not OK. It didn't look like I thought it would.

Except this time, I felt like it DID look like I thought it would, like it was dangled in front of my face for a few brief moments, then snatched away. And I was angry. SO angry.

I definitely felt overwhelmed and had down days, but I wasn't depressed like last time. I was just mad. It surprised me how mad I felt, since I'm not usually a big emotion person. (hormones only add to this wonderful mix) I felt like God was somehow taunting me. We had a lot of quiet-yelling conversations, mostly while trying to get a crying baby to sleep. I would just let it out, crying right along with him, not mincing words or feelings. Saying things that sounded a little like my three year old (this isn't fair!) and things that were much harder and deeper (do You care? Does this even matter?) I began to see that there were a lot of things hidden under the surface that I needed to deal with, to work through and wrestle with, and I am so thankful that I knew that I could. You see, a few years ago, I wouldn't have felt that way, wouldn't have felt OK to question God - to REALLY question His goodness, His love, His plans. I felt like I had to somehow say 'Yes, this is hard, but...' But...God is in control. But...God loves me. But...it's for my good. And it's one thing to say those things. But until those things have been truly challenged and the rug has been pulled out from under you, well. Let's just say cursing had never come so easily at any point in my life. I was like a secret sailor.

Slowly, gently, graciously, God let me work through those feelings. By allowing Graham to have some epic meltdowns (totally out of character for him), He showed me not only how I was acting, but also how He was acting. Loving. Holding me. Guiding me. Even when I didn't understand or like what was going on. We'd been visiting a new church, and I felt compelled to join the woman's Bible study. (which I never do. I like one on one, not usually big groups of women with all our emotions and hormones) The first two weeks were, no lie, on anger and God's character. Do I trust Him? I was taken back to Jude's birth, where I was so fearful, and remembered feeling that same thing. And that I had picked the word 'Trust' for this year (I pick a theme word every year). The anger began to subside, but the hard days didn't. And still I was learning.

I've shared a lot more personal thoughts and feelings on social media this year than ever before. In realizing the need for community, I also realized that if I have people in my life, then I want them IN my life. And that means the hard icky stuff as well as the wonderful and happy things. And the thing with the hard stuff is that it's just that - hard. It's ugly, because we live in a world full of sin and disease and hardship. We're not promised an easy life, and we're not told to call ugly things beautiful. They're not, they're ugly. And we've had a lot of uglier moments in the past few months, from overwhelmed days and doctor appointments and babies with a sickness that isn't going anywhere. Those things aren't beautiful, and I'm beginning to understand I don't have to make them be. I don't have to say 'This is hard, but.' I can say 'This is hard.' period. And in saying that, I haven't removed the beauty from my life, or negated it in any way. Because sometimes the ugly makes way for the beautiful. They're not mutually exclusive; they can coexist in this strange muddle of life that doesn't always make much sense, but they're both there. Ann Voskamp calls it the 'ugly beautiful'.

There are days when I'm fumbling through, trying to find the beauty, and there are days where it's right in front of my face all day long (those days are always nice). Every day isn't happy, but there is joy. I've always heard that joy and happiness are not the same, and I understood it to a certain extent. I'm seeing now that joy isn't always this exuberant expression of joyfulness (insert picture of radiant woman dancing in a field). It can be quiet. An undercurrent. Our pastor used to say that 'joy is peace dancing and peace is joy resting.' And I feel it. That underlying sense of peace, of 'rightness', even on the most difficult days. This last week has been a long string of those days - one reaction set off a whole cluster of reactions for Jude, which culminated in no sleep, lots of crying, and a lot of questions - even some of that anger came flaring back up. And those things weren't beautiful. They're ugly. But the beauty has been there - in the desperate cries for help, the constant prayers to not be anxious, to not be fearful. Even though I don't enjoy the process, the way I'm learning dependance on God is a beautiful thing. I'm learning to really take each day as it comes. In my planning ways, this is SO hard for me. But living fully in the day I'm in - whatever that day looks like - is the only way I'm going to truly be able to see the bits of beauty shining through.

It doesn't look like I thought it would. Every day I still pray that it will, that this stage will be done, we'll have learned what we have to learn, and move on. But that day hasn't come yet. (tomorrow, maybe?) And if you're in a stage like ours - where there's a lot of ugly and a lot of hard, know that it's OK. It could be seem big or small to others, but if it feels big and huge and hard to you, then it is. Don't run from it, but be all in. Learn how to face those feelings, to have those tough talks with God, to not know how to make things better and to have to be OK with that. It's not pleasant, but you will make it, I promise. I have to remind myself of that constantly.

It may not look like you thought it would, but take heart - that also means the outcome won't look like you thought it would either, and I'm willing to wager that it will be even more beautiful than you can imagine. (self: read this. every day.)

On Fear (and the beginning of Jude's birth story)

Afraid. I was so.afraid. to give birth this time.

Graham's birth was, in a word, traumatic. It's funny because most people who hear his story - or even that were actually there - comment on how 'good' of a birth it was. And I suppose in the sense that there were no complications, it was relatively fast and unmedicated, then yes, it was. But neither Jim nor I had a clue what was happening, and if you haven't experienced it firsthand let me just tell you - labor is excruciating. Like 'my body is tearing in two and it will never, in any way, be put back together' kind of pain. When that's going on and you're standing in your shower at your house with no doctor or midwife in sight, it's a little terrifying. I didn't realize how much it had affected me until I was getting ready to do it again, and fear really overtook me.

Sometime in October, I approached our dear friend Lauren about acting as my coach for our birth. It was a little strange on multiple accounts: 1) Lauren was someone we knew and were friends with, but weren't close (strange how helping birth someone's child can change that!) 2) we weren't planning on having a doula 3) it was getting a little late in the game to find someone, especially being due on Christmas Day, and 4) while she LOVES birth and has assisted at many, she's not technically a doula. (technicalities be damned!) But I just felt this strange urge to ask her, so I did. Randomly, one day after preschool pickup. After praying over it and working out the details of the holidays, she agreed, for which I am forever grateful! During one of our pre-birth sessions, she had me write out my top 10 'wishes' for this birth. Here is what I wrote:

1) Calm/not fearful 

2) Informed/aware (we felt a lot of things last time were rushed)

3) Mostly at home 

4) Supportive Staff

5) Able to endure pain

6) Confidence in medication decision if chosen

7) Control 

8) Mom/baby time immediately

9) Relaxed about feeding

10) Good memories of experience

You'll note number 6 - I was VERY open to having an epidural this time. And by that I mean I was secretly really hoping we got to the hospital in plenty of time to get one. But we looked at this list and decided that overall, I wanted to be 'Present'. That was my goal for this go-around. No matter if we were at home, at the hospital, drugged up or au-naturale, I wanted to feel present and not chaotic. I was comfortable with this, but as the time drew closer, I became more and more fearful. 

Side note: it's ironic to me how last time I prepped and prepped for birth and kind of failed to prep for life after baby. This time, I felt much more prepared for life once he was here, and far less prepared for the actual birthing process. I think I knew that ultimately, he would get here one way or another, and the after part - you know, the actual life part - was far more important for me to be ready for. Back to the story...

Graham's preschool Christmas program was December 17th. I remember hoping I would be going into labor as soon as he finished but ha! Not so much. Instead I was 39 weeks pregnant trying not to get knocked over by all of the sugar-filled children at 'Jesus' Birthday Party' afterward. Graham was roaming somewhere with Jim when I sat down at a table next to this sweet older woman, who introduced herself as Julia. I have since gotten to know Julia a little better, and let me tell you - that woman is in touch with God and sensitive to His leading like few people I have ever met. It's amazing to behold. That day, however, I just knew her as a grandma to a preschooler, who randomly asked if she could pray for me. I may have grown up a PK (pastor's kid for all you non-Baptist cool kids out there), but I was not used to someone I just met not only praying for me, but also doing so in a room crowded with people eating cake. Knowing, however, that I could use a little prayer, I said sure. And then she prayed basically this: "please allow this woman's labor to be as pain free as possible, to go quickly, for her to feel in control, to labor at home but make it to the hospital with enough time to deliver, and to have no complications." WHO ARE YOU? I could not get that moment out of my head. 

For the next week as Christmas neared, I kept thinking about Julia's prayer, and started praying along the same lines. I realized that my faith when I prayed was more a 'oh I hope this happens' while hers was a faith like I hadn't seen before. And I started feeling a little like maybe it would be OK. Then Christmas came and went, and I still didn't have a baby, and the fear crept back in. I had contractions daily for at least 2 hours, and then they would stop. I was so frustrated...finally on Dec. 29th I had a mini breakdown (read: pregnancy. Hormones. overdue. HORMONES. Not pretty.) and laid it all out. F*** the birth process, and planning and whatever. I wanted to go in, have someone strap me up to an IV, and wait for them to tell me to push. Jim, quite lovingly, pointed out that I was running away, and that doing so would just be living in fear. And we do NOT live in fear. We're not made to. And Julia's prayer, and verses I'd been ruminating on and all the emotions tied up in this came to a head, and I realized, He's right. This is hard, and it will be painful, but God is good and Do I Trust Him? Lo and behold, the next day, we had a baby. In 6 hours, only 1 of which was at the hospital. Med-free. Totally present. Surreal. 

This may seem like 'Whoa. Deep stuff for just having a baby. People do it every day Alisha.' And that's true. But this was just the beginning of what God has been leading us through these past few months, and I can tell you beyond the shadow of a doubt, I HAD to work through it before the birth, to understand some of these things then, to be able to work through more afterward. This Lenten season in my life has been one for the books, and I'm trying to put it all together in a way that I can actually convey in writing.

But, until then...I'll write the nitty gritty details of the birth next, for those of you who enjoy hearing about blood and poop and vaginas and such. It shall be titled 'The Day I Pooped on my Husband'. 

Let's Get Real

If you're a mom, then you are probably no stranger to the world of mommy blogs (which, let's face it - this is mostly that), mommy Instagram accounts, HuffPost articles that circulate Facebook, funny - and quite accurate - memes about your kids driving you to drink, etc. etc. You're also probably no stranger to the push for 'realness', for authenticity, for showing life as it truly is. I love that trend. But for as popular as it is, I can't tell you the number of time I have had people make the comment to me - be it in regards to this blog, something I shared on Instagram, or even just in conversation - 'I love how real you are'; they say it like it's something they don't see that often. It seems like there is a disconnect somewhere, which has had me thinking...

How real are we in real life? Not just in the pictures posted online or the blog post that went viral, but one on one, when we see each other on the street or at the playground, in the office or the gym? The more I've started paying attention, the more I've noticed: we're not. This was glaringly apparent to me the other day, as I sat talking with some first-time moms of little ones. When I first talked to some, it was the usual 'Hi! I'm so and so' with smiles and coos at the babies. But as we all actually talked about what was going on in our lives, I realized we all had that same new-baby glassy stare, the questions and confusion, the sheer exhaustion and the overwhelmed feelings that everyone else had. And thankfully, we were in a safe space to share those feelings. But what if we weren't? Or what if we were unaware such a place existed? Would we just go through our days with the smiles and the coos on the outside, but not let people know what was really going on? I think that happens far too often - and not just in motherhood, but in life.

Life is hard, people. It's also amazing, and wonderful and full of joy, but is sometimes just.plain.hard. And hard looks so different for everyone. What I may struggle with may be completely different than what you're going through, but at its core, it's the same. Or what I'm celebrating and what you're celebrating may be on opposite ends of the spectrum, but we're still celebrating. So why is that when we see each other the conversation goes something like this: 'Hey! How are you?' 'Oh, you know fine. How bout you?' 'Good, pretty good.' 'Good!' ...and that's where we leave it?

I get that we need some people - very close people - who we can share the deepest of the deep with, and that doesn't need to be shared with the general public. But in our fast-paced, busy lives, and especially if you're in the season of motherhood, we need community (reference my last post for that one). But we can't grow in community unless we're willing to really go there. To get real. And by community, I don't mean 'fellowship', as one may or may not have experienced if you grew up in a church background like me. Fellowship could be defined as: hanging out, a get together, sharing prayer requests about our random family member who lives 5 states away. Community could be defined as: we've all got some shit, so let's share it and walk through that together. Joys, trials, triumphs, failures. The whole bit.

So if I'm in a funk and having a bad day, then when you ask me how I'm doing, my answer may be more along the lines of 'Awful, actually.' or maybe I'll just look at you and start crying. Or if you have my sense of humor I'll text you something sarcastic so we can commiserate together. Likewise, if my day is great, I'm not going to say I'm just 'OK'. I'm going to tell you I'm GREAT! and tell you how God just provided something unexpectedly, or why my three year old is the most hilarious human alive. And if you ask for a prayer request, be prepared for things like 'I'm angry with God because we're dealing with this again' (that was a very real one up until last week or so). Because if we're all being honest, very rarely are we just 'fine' or 'good'. We're humans; we have too many emotions for that.

I've been trying to put this into practice, and I think that's maybe what surprises people. Because most of the blogs we read or Instagram feeds we see aren't people we actually know. They can be real and we can feel 'real' with them, but it's rare (while wonderful!) when we can actually connect with them. It's far more awkward when it's someone you are conversing with. Lately, when people ask how I am, my initial answer has been: 'It depends on the day. Sometimes good, sometimes awful.' or when talking about getting out of the house with little ones: 'I know. I was on the phone with my husband on the way here bawling about how hard this all is.' and when talking with a friend who is also going through a tough season: 'I just want to yell how I f***ing hate this!' It may not be pretty and have a hashtag and filter applied to it, but it's raw and it's real. And dare I say, refreshing?

So, let's get real. You with me, me with you. If you ask me how I'm doing, I promise an honest answer, and I'm hoping you'll do the same. That way we can walk this road of life not just together, but truly with each other.

On Community and Being the Needy One (alternate title: How Boobs Unite Us All)

Hello blogging world, it's been a while. True to form, I had a baby, and now I want to blog again. Apparently this is a pattern. Although, I don't plan on having more babies at this point, so I may have to figure something else out to keep this thing going.

Speaking of, I had a baby! Jude Denman Meador, our second son was born 5 days after his Christmas day due date on December 30. Even though he decided to have a late arrival, he thankfully came quickly, in just 6 hours! It's been a blur of sleepless nights, refluxy days and sweet baby cuddles...eventually I'll get around to sharing his birth story, because it's a good one.

After having our first son, I was a little blindsided by the world of motherhood. Meeting new friends is awkward enough once you're out of college - unless you work together, it can be really difficult to form new relationships in the 'real' world. Once you enter the world of motherhood, it goes to new levels of potential awkwardness. You all of a sudden have this 'thing' (by thing, I mean a child) in common with all of these other woman, many of whom you've barely talked to before or wouldn't, in your previous life, have necessarily been close with. But now you're desperate for someone, anyone who can understand what it is your life is like - how a day full of nothing but poop, laundry, spit up and more laundry can somehow be the most scary, dull, satisfying, horrifying and perfect day of your life, all at once. So you go from 'Hi, I'm Alisha, nice to meet you!' to talking about breasts, lack of sleep, wanting to drink wine at 11 am and even your nether-regions, in the span of oh...about 5 minutes. And then you feel strangely close to this new person, yet at the same time realizing you may have just frightened them away beyond the point of ever recovering.

If you haven't realized it yet, making 'mommy' friends isn't the most natural thing in the world, at least not for me. I've always had a pretty tight-knit group of friends (that has changed with life stages) and while I'm great at small-talk, haven't necessarily wanted - or NEEDED - to have more people in my life. In fact, I've always hated to be someone who needed anything. I'm self-sufficient! I can handle this!

But this motherhood thing changed that.

There are so many emotions, so many things changing, things that even some of your closest friends and your husband can't understand because they haven't been through it. And you realize that you need this community, this group of women who are so vastly different from one another, but have that one 'thing' (again, see: child) in common. After going through postpartum depression last time, I was acutely aware of this need during this pregnancy, and made sure to let friends and other moms know I needed this.

And you know what? It has been beautiful to watch.

From day one, I gave myself the freedom to say what I needed and to ask for help. I politely asked friends to not visit in the hospital, to give our family that initial bonding time. I asked my parents to wait a week to come, again, so we could have that family adjustment. But even during that time, I had some friends who were so intentional about every.day. texting me to see how I was doing. Not just a generic 'how's it going?' but a 'how are you emotionally?' and giving me permission to cry, or vent, or be angry or elated or whatever feelings I had in that crazy blur of after-birth hormones. I can't tell you how much those texts meant.

In the week or so after birth, for lack of a better phrase: shit got crazy. I had the worse case of mastitis in the history of mastitis (or darn close to it), that involved hospital visits and breast imaging and carting a newborn to way too many Dr. visits. It involved taking copious amounts of antibiotics and a baby developing reflux and me having to quit nursing and praying to God I didn't get another infection. We then passed the stomach flu around our family. Hooray. And while I would have loved to have NOT gone through all of that, I think one of the big reasons I did was to see community at work, in a real, tangible, no-frills way.

Neighbors who literally walked in our house and said 'Come on Graham!' and would take our oldest for 3 hours to play. Parents who understood if I needed time with just the baby, or by myself, and would send me upstairs to rest, read or binge-watch Netflix while nursing. A friend/amazing doula who constantly sent encouragement and comic relief in those first hard days. One who had experienced the hell that is mastitis and immediately brought every remedy they had and checked in daily. Friends who would pick up Graham from preschool and keep him for the afternoon. MOPS leaders who randomly dropped off coffee at my door, or small gifts for Graham. THE MEALS from so many people! Someone who took off work while I was sick and made soup, bought diapers that we were almost out of, and took our dirty laundry, literally. Another who literally jumped in her car at 9 pm and brought me her own son's medicine when I couldn't get Jude's Zantac prescription filled, and hugged me while I cried. (what? I mean, I don't share prescription drugs.)

And you know what facilitated a lot of this? Those awkward conversations. Going from zero to 60 in relationship terms. Boobs. Seriously, I had multiple people offer me breast pumps, ask specifically about the mastitis and how that was (which is literally saying, hey! how's your boob doing?), actually had a friend's husband deliver one pump while I was in the middle of nursing, and even had some friends' husbands ask if 'everything' was healing ok. But this time, it wasn't awkward, or weird, or clumsy. It was just beautiful, and I'm so thankful that I got out of my own way and, for once, was the needy one. Because being the needy one allowed so many wonderful people into my life. That, and the boobs.

This Time

Getting pregnant does not come easily for me, for whatever reason. It took over a year with our first, and right at a year with this pregnancy. After that amount of time and an early miscarriage, we decided I should go to the doctor to make sure things were all looking 'normal'. And that's where I found out I was pregnant again. Just sitting in the midwife's office, waiting to discuss things with her; she came in, and said 'So, we ran the urine test, and it was positive!' It took me a minute to fully digest what that meant. It was so surreal - usually those kinds of things only happen in the movies, not real life. But there I was, being told that I was, most definitely, pregnant!

This time has been different from the start. It's almost as though my body needed permission to hear those words from the midwife to allow itself to acknowledge the changes taking place. And boy, did it ever. Exhaustion, nausea, aches and pains...I was a walking pregnancy textbook. I loved being pregnant the first time; this time, while just as excited, I was not, shall we say, enjoying it as much.

This time I don't feel every kick and move. It may have something to do with chasing a very energetic boy all over, I don't know. Some days I get to the end of the day and realize I haven't felt the baby move at all, so I sit very still just to be sure. And I always feel something, eventually. Last time, our son was constantly moving and kicking me hard. This time, there are little rolls here and pushes there, and the occasional light kick. I'm taking this as a sign we have a relaxed baby (or at least praying it to be true!!)

This time I'm nervous about labor in different ways, now that I've been through it once. Last time, I didn't know what to expect, which was both good and terribly frightening. This time, I know it hurts. A lot. I also know I can do it. (And I may cave and get an epidural. And that's OK.) Although if it was quick and painless I wouldn't object in the least.

This time, I'm aware of what a new baby will mean. Last time, I was utterly clueless, even though I'd read and studied what seemed like everything possible. (ha!) It will mean staying home for a while, staying in pajamas a lot, sleeping very little, and somehow still managing to function. This time I know that that stage will also pass quickly, and we'll settle into a new routine in time.

This time we will have a 3 year old and a new baby. I, again, am completely clueless in that area, so we'll have to learn a lot of things together.

This time, I understand the difference between the baby blues and postpartum depression. Last time, I didn't know what was wrong, except things just weren't right. This time I'm preparing ahead of time, knowing that postpartum has an increased likelihood after having had it once. I'm aware of my body, my hormones, and what I need to be able to be healthy and whole, and am not hesitant anymore to ask for help if I need it.

This time, I know things may not go as planned. Last time, I expected a birth plan to be followed, never to use pacifiers, to exclusively breastfeed, make all of our baby food and be a 'little TV' mom. This time, I learned births happen how they're going to happen, pacifiers are a brilliant invention, sometimes breastfeeding isn't possible, when you're in Target with a fussy baby grabbing that squeeze pouch and ripping it open is OK, and TV is a God-send - for both of you.

This time, I know what signs to look for in food allergies. Last time, when my baby was crying constantly and spitting up everything including blood, all sorts of things ran through my head. But we learned. We grew. This time, I'm not stressing about it. We'll feed how we have to - breast, bottle, pump, whatever is going to work for mama AND baby. And this time, there will be no guilt.

This time, I know myself more. Last time, I went from a hectic busy job and social calendar to being home with a baby and not knowing how to even fit in a shower anymore, in less than a week's time.  This time, I know a new baby is overwhelming, so this time, I'm giving myself grace. Grace to not 'go', grace to not shower, grace to take things one day at a time.

This time, we are so, so blessed to be given charge over another life. Last time, we were so, so blessed to be given charge over another life. I'm reminded of that every day. Or night. When he doesn't sleep. Or in the bathroom when I need to pee. Or when I step on a toy car. Or find poop on his book. Or get the best kisses and snuggles in the whole world. Or read the same book for the 8th time in a row. Or wear my hair in a ponytail for day 33. Always, always reminded what a privilege this is.