Tenho saudades tuas.

   There is little doubt that much of how we were raised - people, experiences, culture, etc. therein - equates to the molding of who we become. At the very least, it serves as heavy influence to who we decide to become. But there seems to be very few circumstances which are so heavy, sobering, and reality-shattering that a single one can rock our worlds and permanently bend our character to move against the grain of everyday life as we would otherwise have lived it.

   Tonight I am remembering one of a couple of my own 'circumstances' and feeling the weight of it. My heart is just aching with what could have been and words left unsaid.

   We must never put off for tomorrow what deserves to be said and accomplished today. Cherish and appreciate those you love as if you wouldn't have them tomorrow, and you will gift your loved ones the love they deserve. We must love with an 'Agape' love: an unconditional, sacrificial and selfless love. Should there be any other kind? If we give anything only to expect something in return, is it simply not just the conduction of business?

"Gracious words are a honeycomb, sweet to the soul and healing to the bones." ~ Proverbs 16:24

  The expression of love is the music to our savage beasts. Go hug someone.

Free.

There is something so remarkably liberating about reaching a level of maturity, experience, and clarity that allows oneself to shake off concern for the world's perception of the individual. It feels like a breath of fresh air...or like a great deep inhale/exhale of crisp, fresh air to finally give myself permission to just stop being so concerned about allowing too much of who I am to show to certain people. I always new that I shouldn't worry about what others thought of me, but I could never convince my spirit...always shy by nature. As long as I keep strong persevering in faith and love above all else, there is nothing to be ashamed of. I am a colorful individual, and I'm tired of hiding it. Frankly, I've just gotten bored of this cage.

That's me with the dumb knee braces on :)....I ran a marathon nearly 3 years ago, but never went through photos until now. The only event to top this for showing myself what God's children are truly capable of was muscling through a 42 hour difficult natural labor. We are fearfully and wonderfully made....there is no reason to settle in life; no reason to back down against adversity for adversity's sake; no reason to hide the quirks and interests and talents that make you you.

Hard Lessons Learned

"In your struggle against sin, you have not yet resisted to the point of shedding your blood. And have you completely forgotten this word of encouragement that addresses you as a father addresses his son? It says, 

'My son, do not make light of the Lord's discipline,

and do not lose heart when he rebukes you,

because the Lord disciplines the one he loves,

and he chastens everyone he accepts as his son.' " 

Hebrews 12:4-6

  Suffering.

  This is a term many of us are all-too familiar with: deep, dark, gut-wrenching, heavy, confusing, mind-numbing anguish that shakes the soul and tests our foundation. The first mystery that we as humans in such situations are inevitably determined to solve is: "why?". When hit with suffering, there is such a blow to our senses that we forget what God has emphasized time and time again throughout His word. He knows that for all the duration of mankind's existence, as captives to our emotions, we will need extra encouragement and teachings on the subject of discipline through suffering and how that equates to His love for us.

  The scripture cited above is a prime example of the encouragement which God yearns for us to understand that hard times do NOT mean an abandonment of God and do NOT mean that God hates you. The quotation within the quotation is taken from Proverbs, used in the book of Hebrews to then reiterate this important lesson. Because God needs us to realize, at the very least, that He is allowing us to endure hardships so that we may gain endurANCE. 

  Example.

  This past year, I had gone through one of the worst, if not the worst, tests of faith and trust in God yet.  I will spare the details for privacy and the attempt at keeping the example as uncomplicated as possible, because the 'meat' of the issue was that I dearly wanted something to happen and prayed for God to grant it. I prayed for it ad nauseam. It was what I thought to be a very selfless wish, and therefore did not understand why days upon weeks upon months of intense prayer did not grant me what I longed for. In fact, things got worse! 

  I broke down. A lot. I begged. A lot. I plead for mercy. I plead for answers.... Nothing. 

  As I was beginning to lose hope - my faith and resolve bloodied and beaten on the floor of my spirit - God began to redirect my path. Praise the Lord for His mercy in these hours of darkness, because instead of giving up on me, whom had begun giving up on Him, he gave me hints. As long as I kept searching for meaning in this situation, hints were more than enough.

  The first sign came one evening, as tears welled up and I began to pray. My prayer was simple: "Lord, why are you allowing me to go through this?" And the strangest yet most amazing thing happened - almost before I could even finish uttering this question, one word came to me. A single word spoken into my mind: "Patience." It was so dissociated from my own thoughts and I was taken aback by the abruptness of it. I knew that God had delivered the answer to my prayer, instantly. 

  I was shocked. However, somehow it didn't relieve me much - I was still dealing with the problem at hand and God's answer to me meant that this was a complicated issue to which I better figure another way around, other than God simply whisking it away - poof! So I needed to learn more patience, and fast. So I worked at it. And worked and worked and worked, always in prayer. Nothing changed.

  The second sign came when after some time had passed and I was not noticing any fruits of my diligent prayerful requests and practice of patience. Now at this point in time I was broken. If any human can even come close to tangibly feeling a rip in their soul, I felt it. The pain felt real and was numbing, always. Allow me to preface what I am about to attest to by explaining that God has been extremely gracious to me throughout my life that when I have been in dire need of answers or encouragement, so long as I had been seeking answers through Him, He would blatantly provide them. This could mean I would randomly open up my Bible and the first thing I read would be an answer to what was troubling my heart at that moment in time, or attending church and the sermon was written as if speaking  directly to me in that very specific situation at that moment in time. And I'm not referring to how sometimes some lessons can be applied  to a multitude of situations - I am referring to specifics. That is exactly what happened for this second sign that ultimately was the one to wake me up and redirect my path to where God wanted to lead me the whole time.

  During these days, it was always a struggle to get my husband, baby and I to church on time. I was just terrible with trying to coordinate an unpredictably sleepy/hungry/sometimes fussy newborn with driving 30 minutes to get to church on time early on Sunday mornings. So needless to say, in those early days we weren't able to make it happen much. Well one Sunday, we actually made it happen. We all got to church, and the sermon was a message directly to me again. The pastor began preaching about hardships in our lives and why we can pray and pray and pray and nothing seems to come of it. He began to explain that perhaps our focal point is off; perhaps we aren't praying for the right thing. We get so caught up in praying for God to take away our plights that we don't stop wishing away our problems long enough to realize that we are experiencing them for a life-altering purpose. He preached that God doesn't want our situation to change, He wants us to change. He wants us. 

  It was as if a light bulb went on in my head; of course! It made so much sense! While I was busy trying to emulate some astronomical amount of patience that I felt God required of me for this situation, while praying for it to be corrected, I was missing the point that oftentimes we are not capable of enduring and growing from hardships using our own strength without God's help.

  That night I spoke to God and lay bare my soul, submitting to the fact that I don't have the answer for why this is happening - but I will trust in you, Lord, that for a test on my faith and spirit so rigorous, it must be extremely important. So I prayed again - not for an answer and not a plea to put an end to this plight, but instead for the strength, patience, understanding, compassion, perseverance and love to uphold me and mold me through this dark time. I confessed that I didn't know why He was choosing to allow what was going on, but that I was going to trust Him that it is only for good, even though I could not fathom what that good may have been....

"In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us through wordless groans. And he who searches our hearts knows the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for God’s people in accordance with the will of God. And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose."

-Romans 8:26-28 

  And it worked.

  Not right away - not like some magic trick, no. But once I gave the Lord permission into my heart again, He began to shape and mold me into a much better version of me. In time, He even took away my burden and blessed me what seems to be tenfold. 

  Lesson learned.

  We are loved. Plain and simple. We are not meant to needlessly suffer - ever. When we find ourselves weighted down by troubles that don't seem to go away, we need to not only pray but re-examine ourselves and what exactly we are praying for. Try to understand why God may be allowing you to endure this test, and when our human understanding fails - just trust. Trust that there is very good reason for which you suffer. Cultivate something positive from it. Don't let it destroy you and whittle you down to a frail toothpick of a soul - let it carve beautiful and intricate impressions in your surface that tell the world who you are and where you've been and that you are a much better version of yourself for it. 

  Hebrews goes on to say, 

"No discipline seems pleasant at the time, but painful. Later on, however, it produces a harvest of righteousness and peace for those who have been trained by it. 

Therefore, strengthen your feeble arms and weak knees. Make level paths for your feet, so that the lame may not be disabled, but rather healed."

- Hebrews 12:11-13

  Our character really shines in how we choose to react to tough situations. We can choose to let it cripple, corrupt, and deteriorate who we are, or allow these "life" experiences to enrich, develop, and deepen our integrity of good character. 

"My child, do not reject the Lord's discipline,

and don't get angry when he corrects you.

The Lord corrects those he loves,

just as parents correct the child they delight in."

- Proverbs 3:11-12

  I'll leave it at that for now. It's late and I'm starting to go cross-eyed from sleepiness :)!

  Good night all. Be well and God bless.

  

Good Morning, Sunshine!

   Philip slept very poorly for the first 6.5 months. He only wanted to sleep either in my arms or eventually, in his swing. If he were in his swing, he would rarely sleep more than 3 hours at a time even. With our doctor warning us that he should be sleeping in his crib so that he can stretch out and move about as he needs, we naturally were anxious and desperate to get him to sleep in his crib. 

   Philip decided that he loved his lovely crib....to play in. That's about it. At first, after many different tactics, I could get him to sleep in the crib for 2 hour chunks at a time. I figured in time he would sleep longer and longer. Nope. He actually got worse to the point that I would spend hours upon hours trying to have him fall asleep in my arms, do the transfer, and he would instantly wake and begin crying relentlessly. Uugh....

   When he reached 6.5 months, and I had tried every no-cry solution known to womankind in various forms and various combinations, I realized in my bleary eyed and minded state, that our family was in a sleep-deprived crisis and I needed to kick it up a notch for the sake of my entire family. My son was depriving himself of much needed rest and we were chronically sleep-deprived and suffering as a whole. 

   I am absolutely against abandoning your child in the middle of the night to let him scream and cry himself to sleep, so when I say that I researched every no-cry sleep solution known to womankind, I meant it. I went through several books, numerous forums and internet searches, testimonials, etc. I tried it all. Disheartening at best, as I simply wanted to spare my child from any negative associations with sleep. But desperate times called for desperate measures.

   Now that I knew my son and knew what made him tick, for the most part, I began developing a bit of a tougher sleep training method comprised of various parts of the techniques I had read worked for other moms. And you know what? I got him to sleep in his crib the first night. By night two and three, he was sleeping peacefully up to 7-8 hours at a time! Within several weeks, he would sleep completely through the night from 8pm to 6 am. Unbelievable. I could not and still find it difficult to believe this is my child!

   Here's what I did, in case you are curious:

   By 6.5 months, I knew two things that allowed me to do what I did successfully and psychologically healthfully: #1: the issues Philip had with sleeping were behavioral and habitual; he never had collic(thank you God) or reflux issues, and #2: he was old enough and beyond psychologically developed enough to understand who we were and that when we leave his presence, we would be coming back - especially if he were to need us.

   We started out with quiet time/music time a little before bed, got him into jammies, and read him a book (having bath time helps, too). I then nursed him and when he was finished, I didn't wait for him to fall into a deep sleep before laying him in the crib with a breathable blanket pulled up to his chest. He fussed. Aaaand fussed. What I have found out  in my research is that with this fussing and crying, it is only protesting. They are kind of saying: "hey I don't know how to fall asleep like this....I'm pretty sure I need you to help me fall asleep via nursing/pacifier/rocking/etc." The object is to teach them how to fall asleep like this; to be able to soothe themselves into sweet slumber.

   So I would allow Philip to fuss for 5 minutes with me out of the room, then I would go back in, pick him up and shoosh and sway him until he quieted down again (not necessarily until he was asleep again) and put him back into his crib after a minute or two of that. He would begin to fuss, but I'd leave the room. We continued this interval pick up/put down of a few 5 minute intervals, then 7's, then 13's....and I'd go in a bit sooner if he really got himself worked up into a serious cry. This went on just under two hours the first night, but then he slept for 4 hours at a time right away. I couldn't believe it.

   The second night...same ritual, but it only took 30 minutes. Third night, 20 minutes. By the fourth night, 10 minutes. Fifth or sixth night, no fussing at all - he just grabbed his blanky, turned to his side and closed his eyes to sleep! Was this  my child?? Why yes! I realized the importance of what I had taught him: that it is good to sleep on his own and that if he truly needs Mommy, I would return to him at whatever hour of the day/night. 

   Now, he loves to sleep in his crib. He can roll around and switch positions throughout the night to suit his comfort, stretch out and play with one of two stuffed animals I have in there for him if he needs some down time before falling asleep. And best part, he is so much more well-rested and so are we! This is what a growing little mind needs: sleeeeep and lots of it. Now, he only waked once, maybe twice a night if he is teething real bad or if his tummy hurts (starting solids is a new challenge to the digestive system). Amazing!

   I felt so guilty those first few nights, but now I see what a great benefit this is for him and our whole family and that teaching him to sleep on his own is truly the best gift I have given him yet. Steven and I finally have hours of free time together after he goes to sleep, so we can strengthen and preserve our marital relationship, not to mention me-time(wow, nearly forgot what that was!), cleaning time, and projects-time...after having nearly none of that for 6.5 months! Aaah, liberation :). 

   I have no regrets. I would not have tried what I did sooner than 6 months. I am satisfied that I educated myself thoroughly and tried every no-cry solution before resorting to a "fuss"-it-out with check-ins from mommy when I knew he was cognitively ready to understand what was going on and create positive associations with sleep.

   In other news, I spotted this really cool Katydid on the side of my work building. It was about 3 inches long:

   I love bugs! I had to laugh to myself because obviously, our amazing Creator designed the Katydid to camouflage amongst green plant life, but He did not allow this disguise to be fool-proof, as this particular little guy decided not to use it wisely: it was about 2 feet from being perfectly camouflaged with grape leaves/vines of the same color....it chose to instead park itself  smack dab in the middle of this pure white side paneling. Oye...

Aaand....here's a fluffy bunny I spotted two days ago in our back yard:

   I definitely did a double-take with this one. A plump white rabbit with chocolate points, grazing in our yard with her wee little one (brown and speckled with larger-than-normal ears). 

Ah, Wisconsin wildlife!

And Finally, the Birth Story...

   

Brace yourselves, this is a long and detailed story:

    It was Thursday January 3rd and I was a week overdue. It was also the day of another doctor appointment...however, this would be the appointment where we would seriously need to have the induction discussed and planned in case pregnancy went even longer (we had come to an agreement to go two weeks late before medical intervention, since I was a low-risk pregnancy).
   I was so depressed and filled with much anxiety as I have been a natural birth advocate for years before ever even becoming pregnant. I hadn't even shown any major signs of labor being near by this point.
   So I went to my doctor's appointment and it took every bit of strength in me to hold back the tears as she told me I was only 1.5 cm dilated and about 60% effaced. Granted, I knew that those numbers mean little (I have heard many stories of women jumping from 0 to 8 cm in a day), but when you are the one swimming in desperation with time running out and everything you believe in being threatened by the medical world, you can't help but be discouraged by such low numbers.
   My doctor basically began treating the situation as an inevitable induction and even wanted me to tell her what method I would use so she could put in the order that day for the meds - to which I refused to decide in my shock at her brazenness. She didn't seem to like that and began questioning why I wanted a natural birth so badly (will never go back to this doctor). I could sense her irritation and it left me feeling quite betrayed as she had me believing that she was a natural birth supporter throughout my pregnancy. Towards the end, the signs had surmounted to prove otherwise, such as: when she confessed that she would rather be medically induced than drink any amount of castor oil to induce labor naturally, and also wanted to induce me several days earlier than agreed upon because she was going on vacation that weekend. Hah....I told her no, I would rather give my child the extra few days to make his appearance and I would just utilize a different doctor. After all, I was going to be doing all the work, so what did it matter?
   I left the appointment feeling so discouraged. Every pregnant woman knows how each day after the due date can feel like an eternity of anxiety and hopefulness, while the span of the two week count down until induction (if you're lucky enough to be allowed that much time) is never long enough - a blink of an eye. So, I basically felt like my time was already up, even though I had another week before any medical intervention.
   I broke down in the car on the way home. Steven was driving and trying to console me, simultaneously. Poor fella. I texted my doula to update her and expressed my overwhelming concerns. Once she realized how emotional and worried I had become, she advised me to go buy clarey sage oil and rub it on my belly and bottoms of feet. She also referred me to an acupuncturist who is also a doula and experienced in pregnancy/induction acupuncture. Without questioning a single word, I booked my appointment with the acupuncturist for the following day and drove with Steven out to Menomonee Falls to buy some Clarey Sage oil.
   Upon arriving home, I nearly immediately bathed in the smelly oil. (gave myself a headache). I took a bath to relax (adding more oil to that), and the wonderful husband gave me a foot rub with still more oil. Then...bed.
   Before I fell asleep, I prayed and I prayed hard. I begged and I pleaded with God to please let this little boy come into the world as He intended; beautifully, naturally, healthfully. I wanted God to choose my son's birthday, not the hospital staff. Medical intervention is a blessing for those that truly need it, but I was blessed with such a healthy pregnancy, there were no signs that I was one of those women that would actually need any part of it. And so I fell asleep. But not for long!
   
   I had begun to wake up periodically to intense cramping, but went back to sleep not thinking too much of it. When I awoke at 6 am to feel the cramping intensify and prove to be regulated, I got reeeaaally happy! I tried not to get myself too psyched - since it was still possible that it may be false labor. I didn't tell my doula until that afternoon on the 4th that I was experiencing contractions about 15-25 minutes apart and not too uncomfortable yet.
   We kept up communication throughout the day as the contractions turned into 10-15 minutes apart with a lot of dull lower back aching. But then there seemed to be no progress beyond that...they didn't get any closer together but did get more intense. It wasn't until later in the day that she realized that my now intense back pain was because I was having "back labor," i.e. the baby was posterior. So with each contraction, baby was pressing against my spine. This gave way for aching even in between contractions, so I didn't get much of any breaks! She instructed me of some stretches to do that could shift the baby into better positioning to allow labor to move forward. She said that the reason why I wasn't progressing any further was because my uterus was too busy trying to get Philip to flip into correct position with each contraction.
   After hours of stretching and holding awkward positions over our exercise ball, couch, or floor, it worked! I no longer felt searing, firey back pain through each one. Still, they were about 10 minutes apart at that point, around 1 - 2 am. So we did our best to go to sleep. Steven slept for a bit while I slept a few minutes at a time in between contractions (absolutely awful...I know). I was so exhausted from the full day and night of laboring that I even slept for about 1.5 - 2 hours through contractions! I do remember dreaming about feeling contractions, so I didn't escape them entirely, alas...
   When we awoke at about 8 am on Saturday the 5th, they had spread out to about 15 minutes apart again -aargh!  However, within 1 - 2 hours after waking, they sped up to 8 - 10 minutes apart and intensified quickly. The bad part was that I was having back labor again and the stretches weren't helping this time - stubborn little guy!
   When contractions got to be around 6 minutes apart, we had our doula come over to our house to see us through the rest of labor (around 2 pm that day). She guided me through meditation, relaxation and breathing techniques through each contraction as they were getting to the point I could no longer talk through them.
   She massaged my back and tried to help move the baby around by using acupressure during each contraction. It began to hurt so bad! Mostly the back pain, though. The contraction itself was painful but bearable. Steven even felt my spine being pushed and moved when I would contract! Yikes.
   Fast forward to about 7:30- 8 pm. After hours of watching Anthony Bourdain's: A Cook's Tour on Hulu, Steven making dinner for himself and the doula, and me suffering so much that all I could stomach were energy health bars and lots of water and coconut water (hooray electrolytes), labor had progressed to about 3 minutes apart and I could barely stand anymore (only if clutching onto Steven - strong guy, thank you Lord).
   We packed up the car and headed to the hospital!  Every bump in the road felt like death to me, but I remember reminding Steven to please drive safely and carefully....he did very well!
   We arrived at the hospital, I got into a wheel chair and wheeled all the way to Labor & Delivery (a long haul). Then.....they made me wait in the lobby for about 30 minutes. Let's just say that I didn't try to quiet myself during each contraction for the sake of others in the lobby....I figured it'd expedite the process ;).
   By the time I got to the room I was 6 cm and 100% effaced. I admit I felt a bit discouraged, as the pain was such that I felt I was ready to go! My doula assured me that it could change quite quickly from there. Boy was she right...
   I just did my best to focus on not only breathing in but breathing out (surprisingly difficult). My doula continued to coach me through each contraction to help me channel my breathing into a steady "oooo" sound, which worked marvelously!
   Steven played the pre-arranged "Loreena McKennit"-themed radio station on Pandora in the background.
   As I requested, the nurses prepared the whirlpool for me. They all appeared very nervous that I would have the baby in the tub, which is a big no-no in Wisconsin. I assured them this wouldn't happen, while my doula and I joked off to the side together that it wouldn't be a bad idea - it'd be quite perfect actually.
So I hopped into that....and by 'hopped' I mean slooowly shuffled my way down the hall to the whirlpool room and sloooowly and completely ungracefully climbed into the tub, which seemed all-too impossibly high for my laboring parts to heave into. Luckily, the husband and nurses were quite helpful.
   Surprisingly, it wasn't the most comfortable thing at the time, so I only spent 15 minutes in there; way too hot and terribly designed to sit it (probably done on purpose to avoid moms from getting too comfy and having water babies). I returned to my room (very slowly) and spent the rest of labor in there.
   At 8 cm, my water had not yet popped and so I gave my blessing to do so, thankfully relieving so much pressure and skyrocketing me to 10 cm. 
   Time to push.
   Boom. Baby. Seriously...it was that quick after being given the go-ahead to push. I remember thinking of how weakened, malnourished, dehydrated, and sleep-deprived I was at that point - I could feel myself fading and seconds from fainting. It was in that same moment that survival and protection mode kicked in: 'Momma bear' instinct had begun and I told myself that I had not come this far and suffered this much to let my body give up at the very end! I could not fail my child and compromise his safety. I had to keep going somehow. I mustered up all the strength I had left in me (I had no idea where it came from - truly from God above because I was long spent) and I pushed...he was out in 5 minutes. I didn't even know that was not normal until my doula informed me that usually it takes at least an hour of pushing...the staff had not even changed into the proper scrubs yet (oops, sorry). 
   My blood pressure was below 100 now, but in my dizzied daze I clutched onto this tiny new little person that was suddenly beholden to me: my little Philip Elwood Gottlieb.  All the pain literally disappeared. It was just me and him. He was so beautiful; so perfect; so miraculous.
   He held his head up right from the get-go and was crying a healthy, powerful cry - what a voice! What strength!
   I was so in love, and by that same token, so intimidated by him. I knew my life had changed instantly and I wanted nothing more than to pour my heart and soul into this little new soul and be everything he deserved me to be...but I was afraid I would not be good enough. 
   Now, as he is 7 months old, I still hold myself to that high standard, but I also have come to realize over this time that it is precisely that which makes me the mother that Philip needs; one who loves him with an endless, ever-growing love, whom is always at work to better herself and embody the role model he needs in this journey of life.

Stats:
born - January 6th, 2013 (Epiphany Baby!!)
@ - 12:27 am 
weight - 8 lbs
height - 19.5 in
hair/eyes - dark brown/slate blueish grey
skin - olive

****

And here's a cute picture of teeny tiny Philip on his baptismal day (1/20/13), with us and his Godparents :

   
   

If I could put time in a baby bottle...

   Good gracious, it's been a while!

   Where do I start? Where did I leave off? Well.....

introducing the newest member of clan Hackbarth: Philip Elwood Gottlieb!

   

   Our dear son was born January 6th, 2013. Birth story to follow in a future post as a whole lot happened in my 42 hours of labor! 

   We bought a house. I have a new job. Husband is in school at the University to finish his Electrical Engineering degree. I'm starting an Etsy business. We had a dog for a week. Grimm kitty is still Grimm kitty. Marriages have happened in the family. But mainly, the most life-altering event has been the addition of our son, and we couldn't be happier!

   People have always said that having children changes you and that you just don't understand until you have one of your own. I always figured this was quite true, as you are suddenly responsible for a whole new host of duties to another human being....but that's not it. It's not as simple as simply taking on more responsibilities or even suddenly adding another person to the list of people you love. It is so much deeper than that; it's truly spiritual. Out of the love of two separate human souls, is created the miracle of a brand new soul and given the breath of life by God himself. Through nearly 10 months, I played house for this little life as he grew strong enough and developed enough to be brought into the 'outside.' Every fiber of my being is stitched within him and not only do I see him as my son, my child, but as an extension of myself and Steven, love in tangible form. Philip is love itself; a gift from the most loving of all: God the Father. To be blessed and trusted enough to be Philip's mother is truly the greatest blessing and privilege I have ever received. 

   No longer are my thoughts my own, as they are constantly with Philip; loving, wondering, planning, thinking, worrying, praying, etc... Not a moment goes by that he isn't at the forefront of my mind. Steven's Aunt Judy tells me that this will never change, even as her children have all become adults with families of their own. Extraordinary is the love of a mother for her children!

   Uh oh...baby waking from nap. Gotta go! To be continued...

A Forgotten Poem....

  The other day I was weeding out files from my laptop, in desperate hopes that it may run a little bit smoother afterwards, when I found this poem I had written August 20th of last year, 2009. Here she be:



Walk with me; glide - through silken darknesses of the evening;
shadows carress our skin and illuminate our hearts,

Ripping winds lay our souls bare against the street lights, begging for mercy....

Dead skin and bones slow their movement, but the embers of our beating hearts race to find one another.

Almost there.

Time is running out, but our pieces stitch together somehow, before all is lost...and then all is gained.