The Birth of Lydia Grace

I love birth stories. I’ve read hundreds of them and enjoy every single detail that the mother feels comfortable sharing. You may not. Consider this fair warning that you may learn more about me or our birth than you wanted to know. For others like me, ENJOY! :)

It is only by the grace of God that I can tell you this story. I have been so blessed by the birth of Clara. Her life brings me joy every single day I am blessed to share with her, but her birth story has been a struggle for me. After wanting and trying so hard for a natural birth, the long, unproductive labor and transfer to the hospital for a medicated birth was disappointing, to put it mildly. Don’t get me wrong, I thank God that it was such a blessed experience overall, that my baby arrived safely, and there were no long term repercussions of doing what we had to do, but deep in my heart, I felt like I had failed at birth, and I had no idea why.

So, from before the moment I knew that another baby was on the way, I had been praying, thinking, analyzing, reading, struggling over my next birth. I shed many tears over wonderful books like Birthing From Within and while delving into the heart of things with my wonderful midwife. I prepared my mind to welcome, accept, embrace the pain of labor. I decided to ignore my labor as long as possible. I read affirmations like “I can do this” “My body was made to have babies” and so on. I prepared to drink red raspberry tea and take calcium and magnesium to help my uterus work effectively. Most importantly, James and I gave my labor and birth over to God and asked for His will to be done. I knew His will and my will are NOT the same, and over and over we verbally and mentally accepted whatever He knew we needed.

So, five days overdue, on June 10th, James, Clara, Titus, and I went on a walk—with our umbrellas, as it was sprinkling. Mostly we were on a traffic engineer’s errand to see if our neighborhood connected to a certain cross street, so we walked a pretty decent distance. Once we returned, my big, pregnant body was exhausted, so I settled into a recliner and read books to Clara while James put dinner together. I was feeling all kinds of weird sensations as my big baby was wiggling all over inside me and my body was doing some of the mild contracting that it had been off and on for the past few weeks.

After dinner, I felt the contractions strengthening slightly and picking up, so I did some light straightening. The house didn’t need much as I had been in major nesting mode since April. :) I timed a few contractions and found them to be about 2.5 minutes apart and a minute long. I called the midwife to give her a heads up about 11 or so. She encouraged me to take a hot bath or shower and lay down to get some rest. I took a hot shower, but laying down was uncomfortable so I told James to get some sleep and I retired to the living room.

I labored through the night in the green recliner and on the labor ball. I was very chilled. I tried to drink the raspberry tea and the contractions got so intense, that I backed off. I did drink a wonderful “laborade” and took my calcium and magnesium. The contractions were pretty consistent a 6 minutes apart and 1 minute long. I read blogs online and tried to get an idea of what the symptoms and stages of labor were. I read a really neat article on assessing the dilation of a laboring woman without an internal check. I also read other women’s birth stories. When James asked me why, later, I said it was comforting to know that no mater what, all labors had an end! I was not in extreme pain, although I did have to focus and breath through those later in the night. I was calm and positive and doing a lot of praying. I knew I probably wasn’t very far along, but I was okay with the journey my body was taking. The room was dimly lit by the “midnight sun”. We closed the blinds and curtains, though, and left a small light on over the sink. It was cozy.

At five AM, I saw Clara pitter patter into the bedroom where James was sleeping. I knew she would crawl into our bed and go to sleep again. I was starting to need some moral support and help. I knew I should probably eat something, but did not feel like fixing it myself. Whenever I was up walking around (or in the bathroom) the contractions were closer together and more painful. James came down and made me toast, scrambled an egg, and sliced an apple for me. He started pushing on my back too which helped tremendously with the pain. Even better was when he pushed my hips towards each other, although it was irritating to coach him in this while contracting. By seven, Clara was awake and we called my parents to come pick her up. I was beginning to vocalize through the pain by this point, so I went into the other room to labor while James took care of Clara’s needs.

At this point, I was really tired. I was able to sort of doze between contractions in the wonderful green recliner. I timed contractions again and they spaced out to 8 minutes apart. At 9, my mom arrived for Clara and I said goodbye to my big girl knowing that when I saw her again, she might very well be a big sister. I called my midwife again to give an update. It was obvious to her that my contractions were more intense, but seeing how I was still hungry, chatty, and the contractions were spaced out, she said, “Well, Andrea. This might just be the way you labor.” This was discouraging to hear, but hopeful too. The verse, “I am fearfully and wonderfully made” hit my mind and heart and I knew no matter HOW I labored, that God had made me to labor that way, and it was okay. My midwife told me to try to get in some more dozing on the recliner and to call her back when something shifted. We both knew that I did not want to be watched and laboring naturally would be my best chance for a natural birth. So I tried to doze in the recliner again, but after an hour when waking up to the contractions became too painful to tolerate, I got up again. James and I discussed walking, but as it was a busy Saturday with garage sales and dog walkers everywhere, I didn’t really want to walk down the street moaning. We decided to take a short drive and get out to walk somewhere else.

At 11, I discovered “bloody show.” This very good sign was totally depressing to me. I had been laboring 14 hours at this point, and I knew bloody show to be the sign of 2-3 cm dilation. My water still hadn’t broken, which I was thankful for, as this had started the clock ticking on my first labor. We got in the car and drove to a park. James jokingly suggested bringing the birth supplies just in case. I said, “Let’s not, then we might actually need them.” In my mind, the labor coming to a quick end was the best solution possible! The park was too crowded, so we drove to Mat-Su College campus, where our whole relationship had started as we fell in love between evening Russian classes. Driving over gravel was the worst, but even as we drove around for an hour, I only had 4 or 5 contractions in the car. We got out and walked a bit. It was VERY slow going, and I stopped frequently. We talked about my slow labor, and I cried a bit wanting desperately for one of those 3 hour labors some women have—or goodness, even a six hour labor would have been nice! James teased gently that 6/12 was a very nice number. I hoped he was saying 6:12pm, then hit him as I realized he was suggesting I’d be in labor past midnight! I remember saying that if my slow labors were due to emotional hang ups, I didn’t know why since I LOVED babies. Sniff. Sniff. :)

Just before 1 PM, I told James that I probably should go home again, since I needed to use the bathroom again. We both thank God that we didn’t do something dumb like try to find a public restroom! At home, I made a bee-line for the bathroom. Once there I felt a little pop and warm gush of liquid! My water had broken! I was at once nervous and excited—this was it, my baby would be born soon, but things might be more painful and intense and, if things WERE like my last labor, this could mean 30 more hours of labor and a transfer to the hospital. James suggested calling the midwife and I said, lets see what happens and watch a few more contractions.

James started heating lunch and I had another “normal contraction.” James suggested we time them, so I moved to the computer by the recliner. He held my hands as I contracted again. I started singing “God is so good” through the contraction, instead of moaning. But the contraction went on and on and on. James says I said, “Ouch!” towards the end. Then suddenly water was gushing. I was wearing an absorbent pad, but it just came and came and came. Suddenly I was barking orders for James to get me a chux pad to go on the floor and a towel to put between my legs and my shower cap. :) I was going to jump back into the shower to clean off. James said, “How about I call the midwife?” and I yelled, “Good idea!” over my shoulder.

Soon I was in the shower and the contractions were like waves in a storm: one on top of another with barely a break between them. I was leaning on the shelf built into the corner and groaning, yelling, and mooing with the intensity. James called the midwife but she was in the carwash and couldn’t hear what he was saying! So he called my dad and told him to send my mother over. The midwife called back and said she was heading for home to pick up one or two items, but don’t worry because she had called Stella, the assistant and left a message on her machine! James came over to the shower to see me and pressed on my back. I remember saying, “I am so glad Clara isn’t here!” Then the phone rang again. And he left me while I yelled, “Don’t leave me! Don’t leave me!” It was my mother asking if she should wait to come since she was in a crowd of Christian friends who might suspect what was up if she made a quick exit. She paused in the middle to try to figure out what that noise was (Me hollering) and said, “Do you need to get back to Andrea)?” He said, “Just come, I don’t think it matters now!”

I really didn’t know how long I would be in “active labor.” The “books” said 2-4 hours. I had suddenly felt like moving to all fours in the shower. James came over to see me, and I felt a little push at the end of my contraction. Since with Clara, I had been medicated at this stage, it was a completely new feeling, but there was no mistaking it! I told James, “My body is pushing!” My midwife called back to say she was stuck in construction traffic. James calmly said, “Well, then you better tell me what to do, because Andrea feels like pushing.” The midwife directed James to get me out of the shower and lay on the bed on my side. Somehow I waddled into the bedroom to follow the instructions, but I called for James to get the quilt off the bed first!

All of the birthing supplies were in a couple of boxes in the corner of our bedroom. I had intended for the midwives to set them up where they wanted them. Now there was no time for that! James laid a large chux pad on the end of the bed and I lay lengthways on the foot of the bed, my wet body sticking to the paper. The midwife asked James what he could see. And he said, “I see a head!” Then with the midwife calmly giving instructions over the phone, James relayed instructions on pushing (to hold my legs and tuck my tailbone into the mattress) and applied olive oil and a cloth to support me and keep me from tearing (I had to send him flying around the room looking for the olive oil and there were supposed to be hot compresses in a crockpot waiting for this stage, but the midwives hadn’t been here to prepare it! He got to watch the miracle of Lydia’s head being born (no mirror for me this time!) and the natural rotation of her head as her shoulders prepared to be born. He checked her neck for a cord and gently loosened it then helped her shoulders birth, one at a time. With one final directed push from me (the only “on purpose” push of my labor), Lydia was born and her daddy knew we had a girl. “Oh Andrea,” is all he said.

James handed her up to me on my tummy. Her slick body slid, but we both caught her, and I sat up to hold her better. She was rather blue and had not taken her first breath yet. We were both calm as we knew that the umbilical cord pumped oxygen rich blood into her system. We gently rubbed her, spoke to her and (eventually) I blew a little on her face until she took a little breath and made a little cry. We kept rubbing her and stimulating her as she was just a tad floppy. The front door opened and someone came up the stairs. My mom walked in. She was shocked to see us sitting there with a baby in our arms! She ran down the hall to wash her hands, then came back to help us rub her. Lydia was making stronger cries now and acting much more alert. Mom asked, “Is it a boy or girl?” I checked for the first time. “It’s a girl!” “What time was she born?” I laughed. Who had been watching the clock? 2:15 PM we guessed (official time was 2:17 by the midwife’s car clock)—just about an hour from the time my water broke!

The door opened again and another person came up the stairs, James walked out to see Stella, the apprentice midwife, had arrived. James said, “Hi, nice to meet you. Come meet my daughter.” Stella set to work assessing Lydia and me, checking my blood loss and Lydia’s heart rate. By this point we were laying down and Lydia had started nursing. A little bit of me felt like I had been hit by a train. I felt exhilarated and happy to be holding my baby in arms, but sore and achy too. I thought the relief of being done with the pregnancy and birth would mean I felt terrific, but I had a little ways to go! A few minutes later I birthed the placenta and we discovered that it had an extra triangle shaped lobe on it, meaning it was extra large. That plus my big baby (9lbs 12oz, 21 inches) meant that I was bleeding more than I needed to.

The midwife arrived soon. They were dosing me with bitter herbs, homeopathic remedies, and (eventually) two shots of Pitocin in the legs and a few Methergine pills to get me to stop bleeding. Eventually I did before it became necessary to transfer to the hospital. My midwife repaired a bit of tearing. The umbilical cord was cut after an hour (the placenta lay on the bed next to me for a while). Lydia was weighed and measured and given a newborn exam to check for the infant reflexes and any abnormalities (there were none). We both got into a warm herb bath together to help speed our healing. I was given a clean nightgown and settled into a clean bed to rest with my baby.

Then I had all the time in the world to reflect on the beautiful gift we had been given—an amazingly perfect little girl born completely naturally into her daddy’s hands. Through my ENTIRE pregnancy, I had had not one internal check, and didn’t have to lay flat on my back for that particularly painful (or discouraging) exam during my labor either. In my 17 hours of labor, I had no one fussing over me to check hear tones with a Doppler. I didn’t have an IV or any drugs or interventions of any kind. I birthed a baby. I feel so strong, capable, whole, and thankful to God for this gift of healing He’s given me. I will never doubt my ability to birth again!

Photo by Katie Cannon when Lydia was 2 Weeks Old

I love my midwife. If I am blessed with the opportunity of giving birth to another blessing, I will do my best to have my midwife attend my birth. I asked James if he wanted to catch another baby (with my midwife there in person!), but he said, “Nah. We’ve had this midwife for two pregnancies so far, and she hasn’t caught any of our babies. If we go for three, we’ll let her catch that one!”

Happy 3 Month Birthday, Little Girl!

Very Good News

Have you heard the good news? We, created by God, are so loved by Him, that He sent his only son, Jesus, to come to earth and be the perfect sacrifice. Jesus died to erase the sins of mankind forever if we choose to obey Him by being baptized and following after Him. You probably have heard it. Even typing it, I struggled to not yawn at the cliché wording. But it’s GOOD NEWS. I forget how good sometimes. Well, Sunday, I was reminded loud and clear when my little brother became my little brother—forever and ever and ever.

Isaac decided to put on Christ in baptism, Sunday afternoon February 28, 2010. Thankfully, James and Mom both had cameras to capture what we saw. It is so amazing that the baby brother that I witnessed the birth of, December 1, 1997, who I snuggled and rocked and sang to and love to pieces, I got to see being born a second time as my spiritual brother. I’m going to make myself cry! : )

“Isaac do you believe that Jesus is the Son of God?”

“Yes.”

While Isaac was getting ready. We sang some songs. “I have decided to follow Jesus” and “I’ve Been Redeemed” were two of them. I loved that Isaac’s young friend, Riley Scott, lead one of them. There were still a lot of people there. It was so exciting to see a young person choose to follow God for himself.

Then it was time for the baptism.

Here we were afterwards, singing and praying with our new brother (Clara was hanging out with Auntie Aspen).

At home (we spent the afternoon with my family), James showed Isaac the special features of his new Thomson Chain Reference NASV. The report is that Isaac has barely put his Bible down since his baptism. I am so proud of him and love his enthusiasm and sincerity.

And of course, no one can pull a camera out without pointing it at Clara. So here she is having commandeered Grandma’s apple and marked it up with her little teeth. Aww! : )

Clara watched her Uncle Isaac’s baptism with interest and curiosity. Someday, we will explain what it all means to her. I pray most fervently that someday her Daddy will be able to baptize her the way my Dad baptized my brother.

Thank you, Isaac for being a good example and for choosing Christ.

Clara's Birth Story

My midwife came for a home visit on Friday, February 6th. She brought the birth kit by, which had been delayed in the mail, and chatted with me about plans for the birth. When she went to examine and measure my belly by palpitating it, though, she almost couldn't feel anything because the braxton hicks were so regular and consistent. After she left, I laid down and felt the continuous rhythmic contractions strengthen and regulate. At 2 PM, I got up and began to time them. They were consistently about four minutes apart and lasting about a minute long, though not strong. I called James and asked him to come home.

The "Birth Kit"

In the next few hours, James got home and helped ready the house for birth, my parents came by and picked up Titus, the midwife came over and began setting up her equipment, James' mom came by with a few items, and a church friend came over to get our car to fix its brakes. I was still contracting regularly, but smiling. At 6PM, the midwife decided to check me to see where I was at. I was disappointed to learn that I hadn't dilated at all! At that point, the midwife encouraged us to relax, eat, get some sleep, and try as much as possible to discourage the contractions. She left her things, but went home. James and I ate dinner, watched an old Jimmy Stewart film--"Shop Around the Corner", and went to bed.

James read Colossians with me and prayed for me. The contractions were less frequent now, but a lot more painful. Although we turned off the light and tried to sleep, it was getting difficult. At 11 PM, I felt a really strong contraction, stood up, and felt my water break. James immediately called the midwife who had us time contractions for a half an hour and call her back. The contractions were a lot more painful now, and James helped by pushing on my back. The midwife came over and camped in the living room while we tried to labor and sleep. The worst contractions were when I had dozed for a few moments and then woke up to the intense pain at the peak. The midwife coached me to try circular breathing. We labored all night in bed, in the bathtub, on the birth ball, and so on. I was having long, irregular breaks between the contractions, but the contractions were fairly intense. At 8AM Saturday morning, the midwife checked me again and I was at 2 cm. Progress, but very slow progress. Again the midwife encouraged us to rest, eat, shower, and get ready for a long day--Oh, and call my mother to come help!

The morning progressed much the same way the night had. I labored in the shower, on a chair, on the birth ball, while walking. James carried two pink tennis balls and pressed them into my back or held me up while I leaned into him. I was feeling pretty discouraged and weepy. I had said a few times during the process that I didn't want to do it anymore. Mom came and began to set our home to rights, encouraged me, fed us, and made things feel more festive and positive. James and I were exhausted--especially, James because he could sleep but wouldn't. I wanted to sleep but couldn't. At 2 PM, the midwife returned and checked me again. This time I was at 5 cm. My contractions were still strong, but not regular. Also, I would have one three minute contraction, then the next one would be only one minute. The midwife sent us both on a walk. It was below zero outside, and I waddled like a penguin, but James held me up every time I hurt.

Ready for our walk

At 6PM, we were still going like this. The midwife came in and told me that she was supposed to have me go into the hospital if I had not gone into "active labor" (which is more than 4 cm) by 24 hours of my water breaking. Technically I had, but my labor was progressing so slowly that she was concerned that my uterus would get tired and either A. not have the strength to push the baby out when it was time or B. not contract down to size after the baby's birth and cause hemorrhaging. There was also concern for the baby (whose heart tones had been checked about every hour of this whole process and was doing great) getting tired or stressed and then there was meconium in the waters, which had not changed at all and still showed to be old meconium, but still could pose a danger. She asked if we wanted to go to the hospital or try a few things first. James and I talked and decided to do everything we could to get the labor moving. We knew that if by 10 there was no improvement, we were probably looking at a transfer.

The midwife began giving me herbs every twenty minutes, had me use a breast pump, and labor in the shower. I began to squat, walk, and sway during contractions (rather than relaxing through them). They sped up to three minutes apart and became much more intense. We all got a bit excited. After two hours, the midwife stopped giving me the herbs, to see if my body would take over. The contractions gradually slowed and spaced out again. I stayed on my feet and tried leaning and swaying into the contractions, but they felt elusive and "hard to find." At 9PM, the midwife checked me again, and I was still at 5 cm. We had to make a decision.

Although it meant abandoning everything I'd hoped for in my baby's birth, for the health of the baby, for my rest, for keeping the transfer a positive one with options and not an emergency one calling for an automatic c-section, we decided to go to the hospital. James and I talked on the way to the hospital. We had an unknown on-call doctor, I would have to have an IV, we would be asking for pitocin, I would have all the monitoring, and I would probably be asking for an epidural (I was exhausted and needed sleep, had 5 more cm to go, and was frankly terrified of pitocin induced contractions after so many hours of natural ones). But, I told James. I do not want an internal fetal monitor (it screws into the baby's scalp). I still hoped to give my baby as gentle birth as possible.

It was no fun laboring through getting our stuff together, driving, and walking into the hospital. It was even less fun as I was put in bed, strapped with monitors, stuck with a 2 inch long needle in my hand (it STILL hurts!), fitted with a blood pressure cuff, and so on. A little while later the doctor came in, introduced himself, and told us that I needed an internal fetal monitor and and internal contraction monitor or I would get an automatic c-section. I cried out, "No!" and he started in on how I wanted a healthy baby, didn't I? I stopped communicating right there and let James and the midwife handle it. It turned out that the monitors strapped to me weren't very effective and in order for them to be assured of the baby's safety, I had to have the internal monitoring. I agreed. It was horrible feeling the baby squirm as they applied the monitor, but I just talked to my baby and loved my baby, and we survived.

Laboring at the hospital

I have to stop here and say that my nightmare doctor was offset by an angelic host of nurses. I never expected to hear the words that I heard from them. They quietly assured me that they understood that this was hard for me and not what I was planning, but that it was going to be okay. They showed every sign of being on my side, rooting for me, excited for me. They communicated with my midwife and let her help me, communicate with me, and work with them. They excitedly shared good news about my labor. New nurses came in at shift change (one kindly telling me that she had had a home birth and understood what I wanted), but the old nurses didn't leave because they were so invested in seeing my baby born. God hand picked those sweet ladies.

At 2AM, Sunday Morning, the epidural and pitocin drip were in place (the pitocin was set to 2), the nurse checked me and excitedly shared that I was at 7 cm! I was incredibly uncomfortable and now no longer able to move from the bed. I could feel much of the contractions, just not my legs. I had been shaking since coming into the hospital, now I was shaking uncontrollably and my eyes were dilating rapidly. Close to 3AM, I asked them to call the nurse because I felt awful. The nurse came and checked me again. I was at 9.5 cm! Now I had something to be excited about! I wanted to get moving, turn off all of the things pumping into my body and get ready to push, but no one came back to my room. My midwife encouraged me to relax and let the contractions bring down my baby while waiting for the urge to push.

A little before, 5AM I became really concerned because now I was feeling hardly anything at all, especially not my legs. This time when the nurse checked me, she found absolutely no cervix and all baby! For the next hour and a half, my midwife and the nurse coached me using different positions and techniques in pushing. Mom and James worked to hold my legs and all four encouraged me. At one point, I heard my midwife ask, "Did we make any progress with that one?" and heard the nurse say, "No, no, but she's doing fine." It was gratifying to watch the huge peaks of MY effort on the contraction monitor (finally, I could make my body do what I wanted it to!) and gradually to see my baby's head a little more each time reflected in the mirror they set up for me. Honestly though, even though my mother was close to crying she was so excited about seeing her grandbaby, I really didn't believe that it ever would be over.

Suddenly the nurse asked James to push a button and the room was immediately swarmed with people. The doctor came in once more and took over from the nurse in preparation to catch my baby. The NICU doctors and nurses came in ready to check the baby for any meconium aspiration. No matter how much I had begged the nurses to let me have my baby on my belly immediately after birth and let the cord stop pulsating before they cut it, I was denied because of the meconium. It was one final important loss. My midwife stayed right beside me though and helped me focus despite the complete lack of privacy and the menacing feeling that the doctor provided (I was so afraid at this point that I was going to have my baby taken out by forceps or vacuum extraction).

Then, that wonderful moment when all 41 1/2 hours of labor became worth it. The baby crowned and suddenly, the most beautiful face in the world appeared: dark hair matted in curly wisps to a perfectly formed head and a purple face scrunched with plump cheeks and pursed lips. A few seconds later, I felt my baby leave my body. My midwife gently encouraged me to look at my baby, but my position wouldn't let me. I kept saying, "Oh, my baby, my beautiful baby. Thank you, God. Thank you, God." Then my mother grabbed my arm, "Andrea! It's a girl," She said over and over with tears in her eyes. Someone put a pair of scissors into James' hand and had him cut the cord, and he followed her over to the warming table where they checked her out and rubbed her down. Her Apgars were 8 and 9. I heard him saying, "Okay, give her to her mother now." Finally, they laid her on my chest and covered us with baby blankets. It was all over, and, from that moment on, I wasn't separated from my baby again nor had anything done to either of us that I didn't whole heartedly agree to.

My sweet baby girl--I'd do it all again for you!

I have so much to be grateful for. God was with me through it all, even when it felt like He was far away, His hand was gently guiding and protecting Clara and me.

I have so much appreciation and respect for my sweet husband who never rested or let up his support while I labored. Even in those brief hours when I felt no pain, he did not stop reassuring me with gentle touches and refreshing me with sips of water. I will never forget that unselfish love.

I am so glad that God provided my mother's love and support for me during my marathon labor. She was such a rock, and I loved how well she got along with the midwife! Brief times during the whole ordeal, it felt like a bit of a party.

Mom and Clara sharing a birthday snuggle.

My midwife was wonderful. I am so thankful for her calm and diligent care for us. Her decisions saved me from a c-section and her diplomatic communication soothed so much angst at the hospital. She helped me stay grounded and focused when I needed it most. She also endured my whole labor and then turned me over to a doctor for the last 10 minutes who will get paid by my insurance company while she won't. She's now doing home visits for my sweet Clara and me. I wish SHE had been the one to catch my baby at home the way we had hoped and planned, but I'm so glad that she was willing to do what she thought best for us.

Clara getting weighed by the midwife at her 3-day check-up.

I'm also thankful for my sweet baby girl, Clara, who suprised me in looking absolutely nothing like a Bobo. = ) I am so grateful for her strong heart, persistant strength, and patience to come through it all with me. I've shared my body with her for nine months, now I look forward to sharing the rest of my life with her as her mother. God is good.

~Happily Ever After~

Three . . . Two . . . One . . . "Happy New Year's"?

The countdown clock that we have been watching for almost a year now as it marked the days left until graduation finally did explode! I created the "gadget" for our personalized Google homepage with the title "James Graduates from UAA!" We've watched it tick down all week and couldn't wait Sunday morning to boot up the computer and read the announcement. We both laughed so hard to see that the numbers had been replaced with the dubiously punctuated phrase: "Happy New Year's!" And so begins a new year and phase of our life.
~ ~ ~

Final Project and Class Celebration

Friday night, May 2, James arrived home late with last minute changes and additions that his design team had taxed him with doing on the project for the presentation on Saturday morning. He was up until two. At six, the alarm went off and James and I dressed up and headed into Anchorage. At Seven thirty, his classmates assembled for a trial presentation before the real one in front of community members at nine. This was the first time that I had met most of his classmates. It was fun to put faces to the names James talked about every night at home. Everyone was excited, nervous, looking their best, and realizing the significance of this one last class event with these people that they had struggled through engineering school with. I felt honored to be there.

The presentation was very well done. Although James didn't present, his drafting skills were displayed in many slides. His class showed a very united professional front. I think that their heightened awareness of how much they had shared and how soon they would be apart made their presentation even better. Dad Smith, Jeremy, and Niki were there in the back row to watch.

During an awkward intermission, the students (with me as a tag along) trooped over to the engineering building so the engineering students could do some last things on the computer. The group told and retold stories of the bridge competition, their last minute frustrations with the project, and how Nick (one of the students) got held up by police the night before at his own house because his teenage son was spotted climbing on the roof by the neighbor! Afterwards, we met in the atrium (really a well-lit junction between two hallways and the stairs) for a ring ceremony (in front of the Coke machines) and the distribution of honor cords to the three students who must have not had a life for the past four years to earn them, the engineering-student-of-the-year award (they definitely picked the wrong person--James is TOTALLY the engineer of the year in my book), and a clock with "James Smith Civil Engineer" printed on it in big letters. I was so proud! We enjoyed a casual lunch buffet and snapped some last minute pictures of James with friends. I loved the closure we all felt with seeing the engineering class and several of their teachers all in one place one last time. After four years of working side by side, this was good-bye.

Graduation
Sunday morning, we showed up to the Sullivan arena bright and early. The students signed in and collected plates of breakfast foods while milling around with classmates. James was number 57 out of 1000 in line to graduate. For an hour and a half, he and the other 999 people (give or take a few) practiced lining up, marching in, crossing the stage, receiving their diplomas, and getting their pictures taken (no kidding, the real photographer used an invisible camera to practice taking their picture).

We went home to let out Titus and eat leftovers (how celebratory) and then returned at two when the doors opened so we could go in and find a seat to wait for the ceremony to start at three. The parking lot was packed and lines stretched away from every entrance. Uh-oh. The possibility of finding seats for 9 in a place with a good view was looking slim. Thankfully, Dad and Mom Smith found six, but that meant three people had to go find seating elsewhere. It was nuts and hectic, but realizing that everyone around us was celebrating as much as we were and wanted equally good seats, we had to make allowances. When the Kuenning family arrived, Brady, Aspen, and Isaac volunteered to go to the nose-bleed section above us, although Brady still managed to capture some marvelously close up photos with his high powered camera.

The ceremony went just as practiced. The newly appointed chancellor, Fran Ulmer, gave a very nice speech on learning, teaching, and serving others. The valedictorian, a guy from James' speech class, ironically, gave one of the most canned graduation speeches I've ever heard (he even managed to mention Darfur). The sound system worked perfectly and a nice bit of sports-style cinematography allowed for multiple perspectives of the stage and graduating students to be broadcast on the jumbo tron. Then it was time for James to graduate. This time, it was not "Pomp and Circumstance" that made me cry, it was not the calling of his name (I did yell though, I didn't know I had it in me!), it was not the crossing of the stage, it was when James finally sat back down in his chair with a green UAA diploma holder in his hand that I burst into tears and cried noisy sobs for a few minutes while inwardly praising God for getting us through. Then we watched the other 943 people graduate.

After having his degree conferred upon him, turning his tassel, being sprinkled with confetti, and marching back out the door, James met us in the frantically busy parking lot where we all crowed around. We took pictures, hugged, congratulated, and laughed with enormous relief. Then we drove to Eagle River for dinner at Pizza man where Jeremy, Sheila, Niki, and Drake joined us for a delicious Italian dinner in a private room.

~ ~ ~

Praise God! He did it! James is a graduate. In four years, James never failed or was forced to repeat a class. While classmates bailed right and left for various reasons, James struggled through difficult classes with impossible teachers, most of the time while holding down a part time job at an engineering firm. He made friends, gained the respect of his teachers (and thus many in the local engineering community), and learned a passion for a new kind of work. Now my poetic, artistic, creative husband who earned extra money his first year at UAA by tutoring English students, could spout theorems and equations; calculate, diagram, and map anything I could ever need; and be a general engineering nerd at any opportunity. God has given him a good job, with men who respect him and can be respected for hard work and good ethics. Knowing that he did it for me--for us, so he could support me and our family, I am humbled and grateful for one of the greatest gifts anyone has ever given me.

Congratulations, James! I'm so proud of you.

The countdown clock is going to explode!

Five more days to graduation! Woohoo! On my weekly to-do list is "iron gown and graduation clothes." Can we really be this close? I have to keep pinching myself to be sure it's all real!

It's a funny thing about that gown too. Three years ago when James was working at TNH, a recently graduated coworker gave him his cap and gown in a plastic sack and said, "Here, I don't need it anymore." James has had it in his trunk since then. Last year sometime, my dad came up to James with another sack with another cap and gown that Mom Kuenning had found at a thrift store. That one went into the trunk too. Then, a few weeks ago, James went gown digging in his trunk and came up with nothing, so I frantically called my mother and asked her to dig out MY cap and gown from the "costume" trunk in the basement. So we finally had a cap and gown stored (of course) in another plastic bag. Then James found the other two! So now we have a little collection of various caps and gowns with tassels from different years. So if I blithely iron a hole in one (or two) while dreaming of our soon school-free future, we'll be just fine.

This has been the strangest finals week ever. James called me yesterday asking if I could come pick him up so that he could go grocery shopping with me after work because he was "bored" with studying. This is an all time first! Not only do I not have to tip-toe around keeping my thoughts to myself for fear of distracting his concentration, he actually has been able to help me with laundry, takes time to tease me, and volunteers to run errands with me! I think I'm going to really enjoy a college free marriage!

Thursday morning will be his only true final in his concrete class (uh-huh, concrete, and it's a whole lot more complicated than it sounds). The good news is that he only needs more than 8% on the test to pass the class (a cinch). The bad news is that he needs 90+ % to get a "B" in the class (nearly impossible on a Dr. Quimby final). So, we're thankful for the nice "C" James will get with no worries or great stresses (but always with prayer).

On Thursday night, James won't be taking a final, but will be required to be at his last art appreciation class anyway. Maybe he'll bring home another art project to hang on the refrigerator like the Styrofoam plate print of a hedgehog he made me, the card and envelope made from magazine adds, or the self portrait. Or maybe he'll bring home a sculpture like the wire and bead thing which I admired for a few days before asking permission to toss it. We'll see. Over all the class has been a huge disappointment for both of us (I love art history, but the class has none. James loves art, but the class is rather shallow), but at least he has his art credit and will get his diploma. So we're happy.

Saturday the festivities begin. For the first time, I am going to school with James to sit in a classroom with the members of his graduating class. They will be presenting the special project that they've been slaving over all semester to the board that commissioned it and to esteemed members of the community (like the mayor). Then there will be a special ceremony for the engineering graduates and some sort of a banquet. It's all kind of fuzzy for me now. I'll post more next week when I actually have information to share!

Sunday will be graduation (those UAA heathens!). The ceremony will be in the afternoon, but mandatory rehearsal is at 10 (those anti-Christian UAA heathens!). In addition to missing Sunday services, we are missing the state-wide Alaska lectureship in Fairbanks this weekend. It makes us sick to think about all the people we won't see (James was even asked to help with the youth program!). What's worse is that my sweet family is giving up their trip to the church reunion so that they can be at James' graduation too! We love them for this kind of support! However, no regrets! God is answering literally thousands of prayers in this weekend. I get choked up just thinking of how good He has been to us. There is no way I will be able to sit on the hard orange chairs in that stadium for three hours without crying a little bit (and it won't be about my tailbone!). Afterwards, we have booked reservations for our combined families to have dinner at the high-brow establishment of "Pizza Man" in Eagle River. It should be fun.

Monday, I am taking a "wellness day" off from work and have no plans but to make blueberry buttermilk pancakes for James' breakfast. He deserves it!

Saturday, May 10th, Mom Smith and I will be hosting an open house in James' honor at the Smith's house. If you are in the area, you are welcome to come by from 2-5 for some games, snacks, and fun. We are requesting no gifts. This is a thank you for all of the kind friends who have supported us so lovingly through all these years of school.

I hope to post as these events happen to show pictures and let you know how things go, but please understand that things are going to get increasingly crazy through the month of May! Please be in prayer for us, and I'll be in touch.

One Fine Day

Well, it's a gorgeous, if a bit chilly, day in Chugiak/Eagle River/Peterscreek, Alaska (Where in the world do we live anyway? We take the Peterscreek exit to get to our home, have a Chugiak address, pick up our mail in Eagle River, go to church in Wasilla, and work, shop, and fly out of Anchorage. It's not like they all run into each other either. Wasilla is 50 miles from Anchorage!). Well anyway, since I last wrote about the snow, we've accumulated about six more inches! Of course, during the day it melts away. It's like having break-up on a stuck record (or skipping CD). We get it over and over and over again! Every day walking Titus we discover new patches of mud that are then covered in snow that then become mud again. I can't wait for green grass! When I was donning gloves Wednesday morning, so that I could sweep and scrape off the three inches of snow and ice crusted all over my car, it seemed a little unfair for April 15. Other people in America are harvesting salad greens and asparagus, and we're still wearing snow gear and the snow plows are running! I guess it gives us something to talk about when standing in line at the post office to mail in our tax forms!

Last Saturday, James took his 8 hour FE exam and somehow survived the grueling, brain numbing experience (his brain was so numb afterwards that he picked up the movie Tron for us to watch when he came home that evening!). James spent Friday night at an elder’s house in Anchorage so that he would be closer to the test location in the morning. He was given a very specific list of suggested items to bring for the test including headache medicine, a cushion for the chair, and a hand towel! James went to Wal-Mart and bought a watch for the occasion. I packed homemade granola bars, fruit, trail mix, water, and food for the five meals he would have while away from home. At 6:30 Saturday morning, I called him to make sure he was awake. He was already pulling up to the testing place (more than an hour early), so I went back to sleep. At noon, he called me to tell me that the morning session went really well. He felt great about his answers and had plenty of time left over to check them again. The afternoon turned out to be a little more taxing, although he still had enough time to complete everything. Since we would not know his specific scores on each section unless he failed the test (the information would help him study for retesting), we are hoping that we never find out how he did specifically on each section, but overall, James feels confident that he was well prepared and did his best and that his best was good enough to pass. We are not worried. Thank you, God!




Now with a little over two weeks until James’ graduation, we are beginning to see the light at the end of the tunnel. One more week of classes and then a week of finals and special events and James will burst out on the other side blinking in the sunlight. It’s a very dynamic time for us. James is deciding on which job offer to accept, where we should live, what to do with our finances, and how to spend our summer. I am getting to the end of another school year with a summer of promise and possibility in front of me. James is getting to the end of an era for him (did you know that he has spent every winter in school for the last 20 years?). God has been good to us. He has brought us to this point even when there were many times we thought we’d never see it happen. May all of our decisions for the days to come be in His will.

April Showers

Just to remind you (and us) that we live in Alaska, this is what we woke up to today. These are pictures from the Anchorage Daily News. Although I didn't see or hear any weather reports, I actually dreamed of feet of snow piled up rather than the dusting and accumulating inches that we did experience. Recently temperatures outside have been mild enough and sunny enough for me to walk Titus for a few minutes without a jacket, and we've had our windows open in our apartment every afternoon for a few weeks now. We also have seen pussy willow buds. But today the weather conditions were severe enough for schools to cancel all afternoon activities, news reports to issue warnings, lots of cars to get into accidents or slide into ditches, and our Wednesday evening church service to be canceled. We are supposed to get a few more inches tonight and part of me is hoping for our one last chance of a snow day!

While I might get a free day off of work, James is studying hard for his big FE (Fundamentals of Engineering) exam this Saturday. It is going to be an eight hour exam covering every engineering and math course he has ever taken. He has been studying night and day, talking FE exam, thinking FE exam, and dreaming FE exam. His favorite method of studying involves teaching someone else, so I'm learning all kinds of abstract, unrelated information from this too, although don't ask me to try to reproduce it on a test! Too bad I'm such a lousy aural learner! Please pray for him on Saturday (he starts at 7 AM) to do great on the test and then have a really good feeling about it afterwards so he won't worry about it anymore! He has an uncanny ability to predict his grade down to the tenth of a percent on regular tests, and I want him to be able to walk away from this and enjoy the celebrations and events of the next couple of weeks without feeling like he has something hanging over his head.

This test marks the beginning of the end as over the next three weeks James' classes will culminate with his final finals of his engineering school career. Graduation is May 4th. Although I have been dreaming and planning and praying and hoping for this, I can scarcely believe it's here. I am sluggishly waking up to the fact that in three weeks and five days, we will wake up and not have to worry about homework, class schedules, ordering books, exam weeks, buying notebooks, and so on for a long, long time. Good bye College, and Hello Life!

I wish you all could be here with us to celebrate this happy time. I will try to post updates and pictures of our special events as they come up so that you can share in part of the experience. James would love to hear from you too, and a note or email would be so appreciated.

The most depressing day of the year . . .

Factoring in weather conditions, low sunlight levels, holiday debt, time since Christmas, failed new year’s resolutions, and low motivational levels while feeling a need to take action (1/8W+(D-d) 3/8xTQ MxNA), psychology professor Cliff Arnall calculated the third Monday in January to be "Blue Monday": the most depressing day of the year. Somebody take a look at that equation; it looks rather fishy to me. It also doesn't make much sense that "the most depressing day of the year" would fall on a school holiday (Thank you, Martin Luther King Jr.)! To take away even more credibility, Wikipedia claims that the whole idea was just a marketing ploy for a travel company. However, I have learned that sometimes giving a solid reason for irrational feelings can make the feelings appear less permanent or make them go away entirely. So naming "Blue Monday" shows that the January blahs can be waved away with a chuckle and a "pshaw" because we know eventually those factors will melt away and life will be good again.

Unfortunately, one more factor played into our weekend. While still feeling highly motivated to have a productive year, thankful for James' extra income this semester, and looking forward to Valentine's day (although tired of sunless and rainy (!) outdoors), on Friday I decided to walk the dog, carry our laundry to the basement washers and driers, and talk on the phone to my mother all at once. Then, bending over to pick up a sock while on the phone, I felt a sharp twinge in my lower back and started a weekend of excruciating pain.

To tell you that I spent the majority of Friday evening crying, pretty much sums it up. Sitting or standing brought horrible crushing pain that made me feel like my lower spine was being pulverized. Getting from sitting to standing (and vice versa) took my breath away and made tears start again. Lying down just caused a numbing pain. My sweet husband brought home a wonderful heating pad which became the only source of relief for me (600 mg of Motrin did nothing, and I was scared to take more). Any hopes of using our three day weekend to catch up on life or to do something recreational were dashed. All I could do was pray, and that just made me cry more!

Little by little, I have tried to work out the muscles to bring gradual mobility with less pain. In desperation on Saturday, I discovered that kneeling somehow did not hurt as bad as stooping and so made the bed and straightened our room from that position (James was already cooking, doing dishes, walking the dog, and running around for me). Sunday, I went to church and sat stiffly in the pew. I gave up halfway through and lay down in the cry room. Monday, we made an appointment for a professional back massage. It was relaxing, but hardly a cure. Thankfully, each little push past comfort each day has brought more relief. Because it was a three day weekend, I have not had to miss any work. Driving in my car and sitting at work, I have realized what little back support those seats offer, and I am working on remedying that. I'm looking into a visit to the chiropractor and slowly beginning to stretch and exercise my back muscles to strengthen them. Life is seeming a little more bearable day by day.

It is quite a wake up call, though, to be knocked down flat while doing a mundane household chore. It is humbling to know how dependant we are on each muscle and ligament in our bodies behaving properly. But beyond that, we don't have the right to make weekend plans because absolutely nothing is within our control - not even our own back muscles. I say so often, "God willing" but do I really mean it? Am I just saying it so I don't "jinx" myself, or am I really saying "God's will is best; I'd rather do what He has planned for me." I can't say what He planned for me this weekend was what I wanted, but I pray that the pain, the humility, and the submission taught me the lessons He wanted me me to learn.

Here is a verse James shared with me this weekend:

Come, and let us return to the LORD;

For He has torn, but He will heal us;

He has stricken, but He will bind us up.

After two days He will revive us;

On the third day He will raise us up,

That we may live in His sight.

Let us know,

Let us pursue the knowledge of the LORD.

His going forth is established as the morning;

He will come to us like the rain,

Like the latter and former rain to the earth.
Hosea 6:1-3