The Story of Grace (part 2)

(CONTINUED from part 1)

Friday, May 26th
The day we would FINALLY meet our Gracie girl! The details are a little fuzzy, but I'll try to recall them as best as I can but just warning you now, they're going to be a bit all over the place.

I called my OB around 8am that morning and told the C(ertified) N(urse) M(idwife) (Dr. Deb) what was going on. She agreed with our decision to come to the hospital, and asked that we come as soon as we could. We told our family and friends, and Lauren followed us there, with Becky to meet us later. (I cannot tell you how glad I was that our homebirth MWs would be there...it meant the world to both Ben and I).

I ate some oatmeal, knowing it would be the last thing I would have for awhile, and then showered and changed into a maxi dress and flip flops. Ben and I gathered the bags and I tearfully said goodbye to Harley, knowing that all of our worlds were going to change very soon. It may be silly to be concerned about a dog, but Harley is the first doggy I've every owned and has been our world for the past few years. I wasn't sure how she'd react to Grace, and it just had me in a bundle of emotions. Thankfully we had installed the car seat base in my car just in case, so all we had to do was load up the car seat and our hospital bag and go.

We got to the hospital around 8:30-8:45 and walked in with Lauren and our families, everyone both nervous and excited. The day was cloudy and the walk from the car to the front doors was one of the most surreal moments of my life. The entire week had been a rollercoaster ride and yet here I was, due date certain, only hours away from meeting Grace.

We checked in and were blessed with an amazing nurse, whose name I wish I could recall. All of our nurses (except for 1 we barely saw) were great. Only after checking in did we realize we'd forgotten the birth plan at home, but thankfully Lauren was there and looked it up in her email and wrote it all out again. We discussed everything with our nurse, who took everything in stride and never once made us feel bad or weird for trying for a homebirth. Neither did she make us feel like failures for having to forgo our plan and come to the hospital. At some point I was hooked up to the IV and was also administered Penicillin, due to my waters leaking. Dr. Deb came in and chatted with us as well. She knew how badly I had wanted a homebirth and she assured me they'd do everything they could to honor our wishes. She looked over our birth plan and said that they automatically do almost everything on our list already, which really reassured my worried heart. She checked me and I was 7cm! In my head (and probably out loud) I was thinking "Come ON girl! You were so close! Couldn't you have come exactly as mommy wanted??" Silly mama, don't you know by now your girl does exactly what she wants?

Deb was also was quick to encourage me by telling me how much work my body had been doing, and that it wasn't in vain. She was very careful to say this wasn't an induction, but rather an augmentation. Pitocin was needed to give my body a jump start and to hopefully establish the contractions. At this point I was still "with it" for the most part, and just looking forward to meeting Grace. And just ready to be DONE. Being faced with the most difficult thing I'd ever go through physically was a REALLY bizarre thing, and it's not like I could've walked out of the hospital saying "Nevermind everybody! I've decided not to have a baby after all!" Nope, the only way to have a baby is to...well, have a baby! You have to go through it somehow and I resolved that I would be open to whatever way Grace decided to come.

Pitocin was started around 10:30 at a fairly low doseage and I think it was turned up about every hour throughout the day. I hear a lot of terrible things about Pitocin and induction but for me, it really wasn't horrible. I'd been having some pretty tough contractions all week, so this really felt like more of the same. The contractions weren't right on top of one another either...I did have time to breathe. Not to say that they weren't painful, but I breathed through each one, with Ben holding my hand and whispering in my ear. Lauren or Becky would do the "clothespin move" on my hips as I contracted, and/or pressure points on my calf.

A few of the things that really helped me were to think "I can do ANYTHING for one minute", and to visualize my happy place. The image that popped into my head over and over was from our vacation to Michigan the summer before. We were told about this beach that the locals go to, and so we had to go and see it for ourselves. You have to hike up a LOT of sand covered stairs to get to a landing, and once you're there, you're greeted with a breath taking image of Lake Michigan. I thought of climbing up those stairs and how hard that was, and also how rewarding that view at the top was. I also tried to picture my contractions as waves, because waves have a certain end, just like contractions do. I pictured Jesus there beside me, holding my hand. An affirmation I had written down months prior was this verse from isaiah (deep waters) In those painful moments, He was there. Each contraction was bringing me closer to this life He had created inside of me. It was reassuring to think that as each contraction passed it was one I wouldn't have to go through again.

There were only a few times where Ben went out to eat or talk to our parents for a moment but other than that, he was right there beside me. He would tell me how he proud he was of me, how strong I was, and that everything was okay. Going through the birth process as a couple allows you to see one another in a completely new and different light, and I am SO proud of the strength he showed. He loves me so deeply and so well, and I got to see the strength in him that one day, our little girl will appreciate so much. I remember constantly asking him if he was okay, and if Harley was okay and if someone was letting her out.

Everyone would tell me how well I was doing during each contraction and the point came where all I could do was nod or give a thumbs up. At some point I got hot and stripped down to only my bra. I even had to tell Ben I needed a little bit of space at one point because I was burning UP. I didn't throw up but felt queasy, and as soon as I mentioned that Ben ran to get a trash can. Lauren handed us one of those hospital barf bags instead...we had a good chuckle over that. There was also a point in here where I got a couple of popsicles. Normally I LOVE popsicles but I couldn't even finish one. I drank water as often as I could, but really nothing sounded good at that point.

As Grace moved further down, the pain in my lower back and hips became more intense. I didn't do as much walking around as I thought I would, but instead sat in the rocking chair, or sat up in bed holding the bar they attached to the front of it. One thing that sticks out in my mind is a song from my birthing playlist, which Ben had playing during all of this. It was "Psalm 91 (On Eagles' Wings)" by Shane and Shane. These words stuck in my mind as I labored:

And He will raise you up on eagles wings Bear you on the breath of dawn Make you to shine like the sun And hold you in the palm of His hand

Contractions continued all day, and at one point I was around 9.5cm, with just a bit of the cervix still in the way. Around 5:30 I was given the go ahead to push when I felt ready, which was honestly really hard to gauge at first. I pushed without really knowing what I was doing (and probably before I was fully ready), and I remember Dr. Deb, Lauren and Becky all encouraging me to get mad and push with all of my might. With each push I vocalized louder and louder...all of that theatrical and vocal training REALLY started to come in handy! Ben was right there with each push, his head against mine, holding my hand telling me I was doing great and how strong I was. I don't know if I fully believed him, but I couldn't have done it without him there. I was also asked at a certain point if I wanted a mirror. Everyone has their own thoughts on this, but for me it was a big no. I think that seeing what was happening to my body would've been a little traumatizing and I was trying my best to focus and stay "in the zone." With each push I'd cling to the railing beside me and close my eyes...I clung so hard that my left arm hurt for days afterwards!

 I tried pushing on hands and knees, but was told baby's heart rate dropped so I went back to pushing on my left side. They also had me on oxygen, which was one of many first time experiences for me. I'd push during each contraction and afterwards they'd all say "Great job Danielle! She's coming!" and all I could do was respond with a weak "Okay..." I think I was still asking how Ben was doing and if Harley was okay! While I rested between contractions, Dr. Deb held a warm compress to my lady parts, which was great. It was one of those little things I had wanted to happen had we birthed at home, and I was so happy Lauren and Becky asked Dr. Deb about it. Deb was also able to see how much dark hair Grace had, which was such a surprise to me (and it helped me to keep going). I had had heartburn in the last trimester but didn't quite believe that'd mean she'd have hair. In our case, it was certainly true!

Let me just say, pushing is a VERY strange sensation. It feels good to do something with each contraction, but it is painful and when baby gets really low and about ready to crown, your body just really takes over. You just can't stop pushing, even if you tried! And it's true what they say--it really is like taking the biggest poop of your life. (TMI? Maybe? I think we're already well past that point by now haha) I found this out later, but at one point the L&D doors swung open during a particularly vocal push (i.e. me yelling "OHHHHHH GODDDDDDDDDDDDD") and apparently my in laws heard it and about lost their lunch! They thought for SURE something was going wrong...nope, just me discovering my inner lioness! I also remember cursing a few times and apologizing, and the nurses telling me "Oh don't even worry about it, we've heard MUCH worse!" Oh the things you do/say/show to the world while giving birth...

The room got busier and busier the closer Grace got to crowning, which gave me the energy to make it through those final pushes. It also happened to be time for a shift exchange, though our sweet nurse who had been with us all day stuck around to see Miss G. At 7pm on the dot after one massive, final push (YES the ring of fire is real), sweet Grace Elizabeth joined us earthside and it's a moment I will never ever forget as long as I live. Her cord wasn't long enough for her to be placed on my chest, but as she lay on my belly crying, both Ben and I and our midwives wept with joy. I remember saying "She's finally here! We've waited so long for her!" and seeing Ben and Lauren crying and smiling. Grace was so slippery, just like a little eel. I couldn't wait to see her sweet face! It's hard to remember the exact moment I held her for the first time...things were so chaotic! I remember staring at her in disbelief--did she REALLY just come out of me?? Was she really here after all of those months of trying and waiting? Surreal doesn't even begin to describe those first moments...excitement, joy, an off the charts feeling of strength and baddassery, and a sweet release of all of the fear I'd been holding on to for months and months.

Pitocin is routinely given immediately after birth and although we didn't want it, the nurses had already started it so there really was no point in fighting it, nor did I want to. It had no lasting affects on Grace or I, and we were so wrapped up in staring at our little girl it really didn't matter. I was able to do the spontaneous placenta delivery and delayed cord clamping without any issue. I think all of that happened within 10 minutes, and I remember Deb saying she hadn't seen a cord pulse that long in awhile. We signed a waiver to have our placenta released to Lauren for encapsulation...you can ask me more about that if you're curious!

The most important wish for me was to have uninterrupted skin to skin time, and I'm so thankful I was given that precious time with Grace. She stayed on me for 2.5 hours and was able to nurse, cuddle, and we both just basked in those sweet oxytocin vibes. I remember asking the nurses "do you need to weigh her now?" and each time they'd tell me nope, and to take as much time as I wanted. The nurses were so sweet and kind and I really liked them a lot, despite the uterine massages they had to give me every 15 minutes.

Both sets of grandparents got their turns at coming in to visit and take pictures, and they were all so thankful and glad that our sweet baby Grace was finally here. We had kept the name a secret from everyone, so after she was born Ben went out to the lobby and first pointed at my dad and said "Grace" (his mama), and then pointed at his mom and said "Elizabeth" (her mama). There were many happy tears and hugs all around. I wish I could've seen that sweet exchange, but I'm also happy that Ben got to have that proud papa moment all to himself.

It was around 9:30pm when Grace was weighed and measured and we found out she was 7lb, 7oz and 21" long. Pair that with being born at exactly 7pm and some might say I have a very lucky baby! Becky and Lauren asked if we'd like to go home that night and at first I was wondering if that was even possible. We talked it over with Dr. Deb and since my bleeding was under control and Grace didn't have any issues, she gave us the go ahead! I don't think the nurses were quite prepared for such a quick exit (they ended up forgetting all about her birth certificate), but they brought us the appropriate forms to sign and then we packed up to go home. God bless Lauren for going ahead of us and letting Harley out, changing our sheets and steeping the herb mixture we'd gotten in our home birth kit for my peri bottle and bath the next day. Everything I packed for Grace was too big, and then just a few months ago I realized I had never put an infant insert in the carseat--oops! Despite a few hiccups (including almost forgetting my pillow), by 10:30pm we were loaded up in the Escape and made our way home. Every new parent thinks "they're letting us leave with a baby?! We have no clue what we're doing!" and we were no exception.

I could go on and on about my experience (and will hopefully write a post partum post in the near-ish future) but I'll try to wrap it up with a few thoughts. No matter what kind of birth you choose, I'd encourage you to look at all of your options and be well informed about all of the possible interventions. Just because something has been done a certain way for years and years doesn't mean it's the right way for you, and that's okay. Challenge the norms. Ask questions. You don't have to have a home birth or a med free birth in order to have an amazing birth. This is YOUR birth story, and you have a say in what you're comfortable with. With that being said, if you DO choose the med free route, part of your preparation is knowing that things may change. Don't take for granted the mental preparation it takes to prepare for birth and possible changes to your plan. I honestly don't know what would've happened if I hadn't spent months researching, reading positive birth stories and affirming that "I am not afraid. I was born to do this." (Joan of Arc). God has given females in amazing gift to be able to birth babies, and that should empower you and lift you up, not make you cower in fear of the unknown. Although things may not have gone the way I had planned them out so carefully, I'm very thankful that the Lord knew exactly what I needed. His ways are perfect y'all, even when they don't make sense to us. He surrounded us with so many amazing that day, and I'm so thankful of His loving care and protection. He's given me a beautiful, healthy daughter, and I couldn't ask for more.

This is something I had thought we wouldn't get to experience by not having a homebirth,
but Lauren did it a few days later and I'm so thankful!

Our 9 month old wild girl!

The Story of Grace (part 1)

The last photo of G in my belly taken on Tuesday, May 23rd.

Everyone will tell you to make a birth plan, but to also be prepared for it to change.

Like so many others, that was how our story played out.

 It's a story of pain, fear, joy, strength, grace and Grace, and I'm going to attempt to tell it in a fairly concise way, including as many details as I can. (This may be a good time to stop reading if birth stories aren't your thing--no hard feelings!) As much as I want to share it with everyone and put another positive birth story out into the world, this is also largely for myself. I want to be able to recount Grace's story to her someday and let her know that although it was a long and hard journey, it was ALL worth it to finally have her safe in my arms.

Quick side note: Since around 23-24 weeks of my pregnancy, Ben and I decided we wanted to have a home water birth. How we came to that decision is another blog post entirely, which I plan on sharing another time. We felt really comfortable with our decision because  my pregnancy was low risk and healthy. The bond we formed with our midwives (MWs) was absolutely invaluable, and this was honestly the best decision we could have made, despite not having the home birth we'd been dreaming of. (More on that later, promise!)

Friday, May 19th--The Due Date
I was both proud and anxious to have made it to 40 weeks. Proud, because some women never get to reach that milestone and anxious, because I knew baby would be coming soon. It may be 2 days or 2 weeks but it wouldn't be long.

I had an OB appointment that day (we still continued to see the OB along with our MWs) and Rachel came with me, because Ben was working. The doc said things looked really great...I was 2-3cm dilated and somewhere between 50%-70% effaced. Baby's head was nice and low, and my doc was fully confident I'd have her within the next couple of days. Yahoo! I tried not to get overly excited, because you can be at 2-3cm for quite awhile without much happening. I was super blessed to have an OB who was on board with our home birth plans and who was so positive that things were going to go smoothly. He didn't strip my membranes, but did a little something that he said would help things along, though I'm not sure what it was. All I know is, it was NOT comfortable.

After that, Lindsay happened to be in town so she, Rachel and I walked around a bit. I was hoping that miraculously contractions would start, but really I just experienced more Braxton Hicks (BHs) contractions, which really just feel like a tightening in your lower abdomen, similar to period cramps. They aren't timeable, and honestly just annoying. Nothing too exciting happened until...

Sunday, May 21st
I finally felt my first real contractions, yahoo! As a first time mom, everything is so new and strange and you're feeling things in your body that you've never felt before. It's really hard to gauge what you're actually feeling...I kept questioning if I was having real contractions but after checking in with my midwife, I knew that I was. (One of the many perks of having midwives is being able to text them with questions and concerns...God bless Lauren and Becky for listening to my MANY questions!)

I knew that these were different because I could time them. Things would get very tight in my abdomen for 30-60 seconds (sometimes longer), and then release. I can't tell you how many times I Googled "what do real contractions feel like?"!

I dowloaded the Contraction timer app to keep track of them, and that was extremely helpful. I also started practicing my breathing and focusing with each contraction.

Monday, May 22nd
The day when even more fun began...also known as the day my water started leaking!

Somewhere around 5-6pm, Ben and I decided to go to Meijer to walk around, which basically consisted of Ben walking and me hobbling a few steps behind, having to pause every so often whenever I'd have a contraction. All of those people who say they "walked their baby out" have my complete respect, because I could barely put one step in front of the other. Grace was sitting so low, and with every step there were shooting pains in my downstairs region, aka known as "lightning crotch" (haha, pregnancy is SUPER glamorous, btw). Eventually I just couldn't walk around any longer, so I drove the truck home. (Don't worry about Ben...we live about 2 steps away from Meijer). After going to the bathroom, I stood up and to my delight, a small spurt of water came out! You're right, this could have been more urine, seeing as how I peed about 3094 times a day, but this was definitely different. I told Ben when he came home, and we were definitely thinking that TONIGHT COULD BE THE NIGHT! After so much waiting, we were as ready as ready could be.

But....

Grace decided to stay put for three.more.days.

Tuesday, May 23rd--Thursday May 25th
These days were not the most fun of my pregnancy, if I'm being completely honest.(Read: they sucked. Big time). Contractions would ramp up at night from 10pm-3am, and every time I had to roll over or go to the bathroom or move at all, Ben would have to help. I kept thinking "This is it! They're getting stronger!" only to have them slow down and peter out. During the day all I could do was nap and lay around, because I'd be so exhausted from the night before. I didn't feel like eating much, so peanut butter and apples were often the name of the game. I'd have contractions on and off during the day as well. This was most definitely the toughest part of pregnancy for me. In every way possible, both Ben and I were completely exhausted.

 I didn't want to admit it, but I could see my home birth dreams slowly slipping away with each passing day. That was really hard to stomach...we'd done months of research and careful planning, and had been so excited to give birth on our terms, intervention free and with our MWs by our side. I'd been eating well, drinking lots of water, and stayed very active until about 39 weeks. Zero complications throughout my pregnancy...by all accounts a very healthy and normal pregnancy. We'd had our birth kit for weeks and the pool set up in Grace's room since my 36th week of pregnancy. So why weren't things going the way I planned?

"The heart of man plans his way, but the Lord establishes his steps." Proverbs 16:9

On Wednesday Lauren and  Becky came over to check me, and at that point I was 6cm, 100% effaced and I believe the head was around -1 or 0. We were all encouraged by that! My MWs gave me a couple of more things I could do to try and get those contractions started, and I tried them over the next two days. Black and blue cohosh, nipple stimulation, bouncing on that darn ball, walking up and down stairs, taking all sorts of supplements...I tried so many things, y'all. Baby girl was still content to make mama uncomfortable every night from 10pm-3am, but nothing more than that. I'd also lost my mucus plug and had my bloody show during this time and according to Dr. Google, baby should've made an appearance soon after those things. Not for me. Turns out Grace was shaping up to be just as stubborn as her daddy (or mommy, if you ask Ben).

During this time I continued to watch for meconium and take my temperature, as per my MWs directions, and had no signs of infection*. A welcome silver lining in what was turning out to be a completely different cloud than what I had been dreaming of for months.

*OBs following the American Obstetrics guidelines will want you to have your baby 12-24 hours after your waters break, but MWs follow the Canadian guidelines which allow 72 hours. Your outer bag of water can actually seal itself back up and so during this time I was drinking a ton of water to help keep my fluid levels high.

Thursday, May 25th
This was the day we (Ben and I, our families, Lauren and Becky) decided that Plan B was inevitable. Unless Grace was going to make a move that day or night, we made the choice to call the OB in the morning and ultimately have her at the hospital.

As to be expected when things don't play out as you'd hoped, there were tears. Lots of them. There were questions. There was anger. WHY did my pregnancy go so well, only to have this be the outcome?? What was the point of all of that if we weren't going to have the birth we'd been hoping for? In my mind I could see all of those beautiful home birth photos I'd been looking at for months on Pinterest, and realizing that would not be my reality. I wouldn't have photos like those. I wouldn't be able to write a blog post about my home birth experience. I wouldn't get to say "I did it! You can too!" to other first time mamas who might be considering birthing at home. I wouldn't get any of that. That was a tough pill to swallow...really tough.

I know how stressed our families were that entire week, so I'm sure that this decision to go into the hospital was a big relief to them. As much as I'm a people pleaser and felt good that they could rest easy, I'm also very strong willed and determined, and once I have an idea in my head it won't get out until it's realized. BUT at the same time, I knew that Grace had to come out, and everyone wanted her and I to be safe and healthy. I wanted that too of course but still...dreams don't die easily. 

I don't know what I would've done had I not been able to text Lauren and Becky during this time. This is one of the many, many things I love about midwifery care. You aren't just a number or a patient filling a bed, you're a friend and someone who deserves to be listened to. They encouraged me to mourn and recognize my feelings about our birth plan changing, while simultaneously encouraging me to surrender to the plan the Lord had for us. SURRENDER. What a beautiful and difficult thing to do.

I also don't know what I would've done without Ben by my side. He was there for each contraction and was just as exhausted as I was. He's often my voice of reason, and once we finally decided we'd be going into the hospital and this would all be ending soon, he was able to help me realize that his was the best choice for baby and I. He was nervous and anxious right along with me and constantly assured me that we were making the right choice and that everything would be okay.

I cried as I packed my hospital bag and hastily turned to Pinterest to see what I should pack. We also had to quickly write out our birth plan, which Lauren helped us fine tune. (Note: no matter where you choose to give birth or what your plan is, WRITE OUT A BIRTH PLAN WELL IN ADVANCE. Lesson learned). Coupled with the sadness I felt, I also felt relief and joy that we would FINALLY be meeting our Gracie girl sometime on the 26th. The longest week ever was about to end in the sweetest joy we'd ever known.

(CONTINUED in part 2!)

Mid-Late 20s Musings.

Ahh, "spring"! (I say "spring" because it says spring on the calendar, but it's hovering around 40 today. Love you mean it, Ohio).

It's just about time for my semi annual post, and since I'm on spring break (insert crying from joy emoji), I have time to think and write. Yippee!

Since I start many a blog post and finish roughly 1/4 of them, I just want to cut right to the chase before the chalk paint I'm playing around with calls my name again. I feel winds o' change a blowin', yet have no idea where they're blowing me.

In the post college/slow crawl to 30 (!!) years, I feel that the social norm is to generally have things figured out. Somewhat. Maybe settled in a career you enjoy, with the possible addition of a home, spouse, kids, succulents, pets...you get the point. Or maybe your slow crawl to 30 existence doesn't look like that--feel free to insert any combination of nouns you'd like.

Maybe it's just me, or maybe it's a whole ton of you that are hiding out somewhere, but as a creative being, I don't know if I've ever felt truly settled. I've held a variety of jobs and had many wonderful experiences, but after a couple of years at said jobs I feel the need to shake things up a bit. Is that a part of growing up? The older I get, the more sure I am that what I want to do with my life needs to be something I'm passionate about. I feel that no experience is wasted, and that God uses everything we go through to point us to Him. Everything we do has a purpose, and I feel like sometimes that purpose is to show us WHY we're created. I know the ultimate purpose of my life is to love and serve God and those around me. But HOW can I use the gifts He's given me to better serve Him? Or am I serving Him in the best possible way now? (Apparently it's 20 questions day).

I know these thoughts I'm having aren't unique, because I know that many of you have gone/are going through the same things. Maybe being a "career chameleon" is more prevalent among creative types? I don't know.

Here are things I DO know:
-I love to teach. I love all of my littles and their families so very much, but I feel a strong pull towards my high school kids and the theater program at my school. Over the past 3 years I've forged amazing relationships with the kids, and I can see their passion for theater growing. Theater is in my blood, and I get no greater joy than sharing that with the next generation. Having to focus on both preschool and high school gets a little bit lot tiring, and I often feel like I can't fully concentrate on one area.
-I love to craft. I try to DIY the crap out of everything I find, and if I see something I want at Hob Lob, I usually think "I can make that." When I get really busy, I don't get to create lovely things as much, and that makes me really sad.
-I want to be a stay at home mom...when we have kids. This is really important to me. I'm the type who can't stay idle for long, so while baby is napping I'd love to be doing something that makes a little money for our household/something I can do from home. I'll need a little something to keep me connected and creatively fulfilled.
-I love people. I love making and baking things and sharing those with people around me. 'nuf said.
-I love weddings and parties. One of my dreams is to be the "craft captain" that brides go to for their special day (I'm still working on a more official sounding title). Some people just don't have the time or patience to DIY things for their wedding, so they'd come to me and I'd make all of their crafty dreams come true! Wee!

I don't know what all of this means, but it feels good to just throw it all out there. Basically I need a job that involves theater, DIY things, and potentially staying at home. (Oh and coffee whenever I want). This is an exciting/nerve wracking/changin' time for Ben and I, and I'm trying to be patient and enjoy the ride. I'm trying my hardest to trust God with these thoughts and desires, and to rest in the knowledge that He's got it all figured out. In the meantime, lemme get back to the chalk paint.

Thanks for listening to these ramblings, friends. Since it's 20 questions day, let me leave you with a couple...

-Are you living out your dreams right now?
-If you could do annnnyyyything in the world, what would it be?

Stay lovely!

-D

Community.

With every job that is complete,

there is a sense of bittersweet.

That moment when you know the task is done.

Though in your heart you'd like to stay,

to help things on their way,

You've always known, they must do it alone.

Those are the words Mary sings at the end of "Mary Poppins", after she's finally helped to set things right in the Banks' household. As our Mary (Sara) sang them every night, I kept thinking how fitting and beautiful they were, and the deeper meaning that they would hold for all of us when "Mary Poppins" closed. 

I and my cast mates truly felt those words as we took our final bows. Emotions ran high from before the show started to after it ended, and as many of us tried to sing the bows one last time, we knew in our hearts that it was time to say goodbye to the magic that is/was "Mary Poppins". It's hard to pinpoint the exact thing that makes this show one of the hardest to say "goodbye" to. Maybe it's the time we've all put into it. Maybe it's the unwavering dedication...some of us arriving early to rehearsals to practice "Step in Time." Maybe it's the magic that the set designers built into our beautiful set. Maybe it's the tough tech week we all went through together. Maybe it's the response of the audience...the cheers as we finished "Supercal" and "Step in Time", the standing ovations each night. It is all those things, and so many more. 

I'm so glad that is was at this point in life that I was able to part of this show. As a teen, I might've missed some of the beauty of it. When you're between the ages of 13-16, it's just natural to be concerned about the cute boys in the cast or your costume or friend drama. I'm sure I was like that...we all were. In heart and mind I still feel quite young sometimes, but the realization that I'm not as young anymore hit me hard after learning "Supercal" and "Step in Time." The sweat and the soreness and the thoughts of "will I ever learn this??" were all too real. I know that 26 isn't old by any means, but it got me thinking about how much longer I'll be able to keep up with the teens or be part of those high energy dances. Time continually marches on and while in some ways it's sad, it's also a reminder that the torch must be passed on someday to the up and comers (or "whippersnappers" as I like to call them). Time to take a small step back and let them have the spotlight and enjoy their moment. 

As we grow older, the "magical things" of life slowly begin to fade, and if you're not careful you become a little jaded and bitter. How refreshing it was to spend a summer being reminded that there is good in the world, and that you can have a small part in that good. It's nice to be reminded that no matter your age, you can still chase your dreams, and help others chase theirs. It was such a joy to watch the youngest cast members experience the magic, and begin to grasp why theater is so very special, and important.

I can't stress enough how good it felt to give myself completely to this show. To be filled up and poured out over and over again. To be around my theater family, a group that is so loving and supportive and kind. To be led by such fierce leaders who gave us all the space we needed to grow. Like I mentioned earlier, I often reflect on the passage of time, and realizing how quickly this summer has passed and how this experience can never be brought back saddens me. Yet I'm hopeful and thankful for the next chapter to start, one that I will get to write. In a little less than a month, I will begin rehearsals for "Our Town", a task that is just a little more than slightly daunting. I will get to put into practice the things that I have learned from my college professors and the wonderful directorial team at the Palace and carry on the legacy of excellence that our theater is known for. It is my turn now, and my hope is that I will be able to do this beautiful show justice, and give more people the chance to experience "the magic".

To those who think "Eh...community theater", I want you to know that I am 110% proud to be a part of the Marion Palace Theater and of the great things we have accomplished there. I think about the friends I've made and the things I've learned, and I know that I am blessed. To me, this small but mighty theater is practically perfect. And I know it will remain so.

Reupholstering: Chair Edition!

For those who frequent the thrift stores, you know the difference between a good deal, and a GREAT deal. I love looking for that diamond in the rough and being able to take it home and work a little DIY magic on it. I found one of those great deals last August, and this is how my project turned out!

Let's take a quick trip back to December 2013...After rearranging our living room furniture to put the Christmas tree up, my husband and I ended up really liking the new arrangement. What we didn't like was the gaping hole it left in front of our large living room window. 

Yay new arrangement!

Boo gaping hole.

We started looking for chairs, but we kept running into the problem of expensive, poor quality, and frankly, uncomfortable chairs. $250 for a chair that we'd really only use when guests come over? No, thank you!

Harley approved.

As with most great thrift store finds, the day you go in, looking for nothing in particular, is the day you find exactly what you've been looking for all along. Luckily for me, it was a Saturday when I wandered into Salvo, which meant all furniture was 50%! I laid my eyes on these vintage beauties, and after some furious texting back and forth with Mr. Ben (aka convincing him I could work some magic on the chairs), I decided to purchase them. To my delight, I got all 3 for $25! That completely confirmed my suspicions that these chairs were the ones for our home.

Pretty wood and 1970s (?) fabric? I don't hate it.

I immediately uploaded photos of the chairs to Instagram with a desperate "Somebody-please-tell-me-how to-reupholster!" plea attached. With the help of my dear friend (who is the blogging/Paleo-ing/crafting Queen over at Domestic360) and others, and with a little internet research myself, I dove head first into my first reupholstery project.

After I got going, it really turned out to be a fairly simple-ish project. There were so many staples to take out, which really turned out to be one of the worst parts. I used a flat head screwdriver to pry the screws up, and then pliers to take them out. With a curious puppy roaming underfoot who has an appetite for the inedible, I was super careful about throwing all of my staples away! I replaced the old wool with batting and also added more foam to the seat cushion to give it a bit of fluff and bounce. I wish I could say I was super technical when adding the batting (rhyme?), but I wasn't. If I felt like it needed more, then I put another layer in. Hopefully that doesn't come back to bite me in the butt someday...

The beginning. 

Exposing the OLD wool and just the first layer of staples beneath.

With the advice of friends, I took many photos along the way so I would know exactly how things went back together. The scariest part was the moment of stapling. There's no going back after that first staple goes in! (Helpful hint: If the backrest of your chair is curved like mine, I would suggest having a husband/friend/parent help you hold the fabric taut for those first few staples. Cutting down on wobbliness, especially when using an electric stapler, is key!)

There were a few minor hiccups and brain farts when it came to sewing a new seat cover, but once again, I got by with a little help from my friends...namely, Corey, the sewing diva (the blogging/Paleo-ing/crafting Queen I was talking about). Once I got the cover finished, it slipped over the seat and I was able to staple it down myself, sans hubby. There are only a few things more empowering than using a power tool to create something beautiful...I AM WOMAN. HEAR ME ROAR.

Ta-da!

In the end, I'm super pleased with how the chairs turned out, and although it took me longer than I hoped (I finished the second chair in December...sorry honey!), I'd do it again. The fabric was just what I wanted, and although it did pain me a bit to spray paint the wooden frame, I love how the white looks. Whether tackling a similar project or doing something completely differing, my crafting philosophy is this: It's always better to make something yourself, and exactly how you want it. With a lucky trip to Salvo and the perfect fabric from Hob Lob, we now have two chairs that look lovely in our living room, and that we didn't break the bank for. With materials, it cost me around $30 per chair. You can't beat that! (Oh, and Harley loves them too).

"Thanks for making this for me," says Harley. "Also, thanks for this blanket. I'll keep you around awhile."

Yep, it's hers.

Have you ever reupholstered something? Was it a total success or total disaster? I'm no expert by any means, but I'd love to answer any questions you have. And who knows, maybe sometime this summer I'll tackle that third chair and take photos along the way to put together a more detailed blog post about the process! (I wouldn't hold your breath for that one...)


Happy Reupholstering, friends!

The Summer of the Patty.

Dream Patty/Deck overlooking the ocean. I'll let you know when we move in.

The PARTIES on the Patty, that is. Basically all that means is we're planning on getting a patio poured outside our house, so I feel every gathering we hold there needs to be referred to as a "Patty Party." With my love of abbrev(iation)s, this makes total sense to me.

If you're a teacher, you KNOW the exciting promise that summer break brings. The long days spent with family/friends or just by yourself, in quiet solitude. Some probably don't think teachers really need summer breaks, but if you're a teacher, you know how essential it is to your mental and physical health. Nine months out of the year you are drying tears, wiping noses, teaching, guiding, mentoring, loving, taking countless bathroom trips, answering strange questions planning parties, and putting band-aids on boo boos. There are even the occasions when you have to clean up barf, poop, or pee, or, if you're lucky, all 3 at the same time. It can be utterly and completely exhausting, and you feel as if there's no possible way you can do all of those things and run a household or get together with friends. It's tough.

But despite the exhausting days, teaching is one of the most rewarding things I've ever done, and I wouldn't trade it for the world, and I'm crazy enough to do it again next year!

This year I had exceptionally awesome classes, in both preschool and high school. Like, SERIOUSLY. It's crazy how you start off at the beginning of the year not knowing any of the parents or kids, but by the end you count the parents as your friends and you can't imagine not having those silly sweeties in your class the next year. One preschool parent who has become a friend got me sweet little gifts throughout the year, and somehow nailed my style exactly, and she also took amazing headshots for me. Another parent brought me super yummy "apple crispy" during my long parent/teacher conference day and invited both my husband and I to her son's birthday party (which was awesome by the way). Those seemingly small gestures are part of what made this year so fabulous and as mentioned before, those kids are NOT allowed to move on to PreK!

Poo Drizzle--what you make when the teacher forgets the ingredients for a student's dish so you just have to make something up with what's in the cabinet.

My high school classes were also pretty grand, though a bit rocky at the start. There were 18 in my Culinary Arts class at the beginning of the year (!!). Let me tell you, in a fairly small kitchen with a singular stove things got a bit...chaotic. Being from the "Just-Throw-Crap-In-A-Bowl-And-Don't-Measure" School of Cooking, I struggled with slowing down and teaching the basics.We burnt some things, dropped some things, placed well in the school's dessert auction, and made a delightful dish called "Poo Drizzle", which people still ate, surprisingly. Despite some of my shortcomings, the kids remained enthusiastic all year. (The class was cut in half due to scheduling conflicts, so that cut down on crowd control/hair pulling out significantly).

Oh ya know, the cast just "breakin' it down."

Theater was great as well, yet, like Culinary Arts started out a bit on the rocky side. Nearly everyone failed our first quiz, which made me pretty mad at the time. BUT then I thought back to the big fat "F" I received on my first acting quiz of my college career, and so the only choice I had was to give them grace. Things greatly improved after that, and I may be biased, but I have an AMAZING group of kids who love theater. I've found that I truly have a passion for teaching and directing, which can be seen in the way my face gets flushed and my ears get red when I talk about it for too long. I hope that the kids continue to catch that passion this next year, and work on developing their own passion. I had 19 students by the end of the year and nearly half were boys--how often does that happen?!

IT'S GONNA BE GREAT! (Totally non-biased statement)

I'm really looking forward to these next 3 months of respite and relaxation. Well, it won't be totally relaxing, but a lot of fun. I'm in rehearsal for "Mary Poppins" at the Marion Palace Theater and I think it's going to kick my butt, in the best way possible. I'm ready (?) for those dancing rehearsals! Really though, WHO in their right mind is ready for "Supercal"? I'll also be working for an amazing business a dear friend owns called "Special Riding Stars", and I can't wait. She gives riding lessons to both typical children and children with a wide range of disabilities. It's really amazing. Not sure if the mister and I will be able to go on a vaca like we were thinking, but I'd be okay with a few long weekends away. After all, Ohio really does have SO much to discover...

You know me, I have several DIY projects up my sleeve this summer and I'd like to take you along and get your feedback...that is, if I can remember to take really artsy and softly lit photos during the process. I've been meaning to post my chair reupholstering project I started last August and finished in Decemeber awhile later so hopefully I'll get around to that. There are some things that I just think of in my head and should probably document so I can recreate them in the future. And who knows, you make want to try your hand at something I've done!

Maybe you'll go a-riding on a magical dolphin this summer!

What will YOU be up to this summer? Any fun family outings planned, or plans for evenings spent by a bonfire with friends? (Personally, that's one of my most favorite summery things to do). I'm off to get DIY-ing (whilst taking softly lit artsy photos) and then getting ingredients for one of those around the campfire/s'more times with friends!


Happy Summer!

The Tale of the Golden Sconces.

Once upon a time, in a not-so-distant land, 

a man and his wife were spray painting a set of sconces gold.

Things were going quite well, with jokes and laughter being exchanged back and forth, 

when suddenly, everything took a turn for the worse.

The woman suggested that a layer of white might look nice over the gold, but turns out, it did not.

The spray paint began to clog, causing the man to become agitated.

The woman was trying to offer helpful advice in a non-helpful way, and heads butted.

What was once a delightful scene turned ugly. 

Finally, the woman called the man an impolite and foul name, 

to which he grabbed up the once golden sconces and the paint, 

threw them in the garage, and went inside with a fury.

(Not) The End.

This little story is a slightly  dramatic re-telling of an incident that happened in the Knight household a couple of months ago. It was not a fine moment for either of us, and now, looking back seems so silly and stupid. For those of you who have been married awhile, this will probably just make you laugh. For those of you still in the "newlywed" or "fairly newlywed" boat, you might say "AMEN" to this. You have probably had countless, meaningless fights just like this, where halfway through arguing you have no idea what began the disagreement in the first place. But by golly, you're going to stay mad for the next several hours and stop around and give the silent treatment because he/she DESERVES IT! (Can I get another AMEN?)

Our first year of marriage has been filled with incidents just like these. There have been so many wonderful moments where our love has been so strong and so sweet, and other moments where choosing to love has felt like a chore. I hate to say it, but it's true, and I know Ben would say the same thing. 

Both of us have had to do a LOT of adjusting. The first several months of spending the night alone while Ben worked was really hard for me...there was definitely more than a few tears. I hated that separation and there were several times when I would look on Facebook and see photos of newlyweds who were having dinner together every night and I'd think "Isn't it supposed to be like that? Why can't WE have dinner together every night??" (It's so easy to lose sight of your blessings when you focus on others, FYI). Eventually, I had to learn how to shift my focus to truly get past that loneliness. I came to realize that I was so focused on myself that I wasn't able to realize how my tears were affecting Ben. I was making him feel like he was doing something wrong, when really, he was doing what he was called to do--work hard for our family. That was the first of many lessons I've learned over this past year.

It is so sad to me that in our day and age, marriage isn't regarded as something beautiful and sacred...it's more of a disposable entity that can be annulled whenever one desires. I can definitely see why there are a lot of married couples who, after the first year or two of marriage, call it quits. I can see how the frustrations can build up and accumulate, how communication can break down, and how it just doesn't seem like things will improve.

Will we really keep arguing about the same things over and over? 

Will he ever learn to read my mind and understand that I really need to talk to him about my day?

Why doesn't he get me flowers every third Tuesday like all of the other couples in America? 

BUT.

(I like big buts, and I cannot lie).

BUT, we are not on this marriage journey alone. We have never been left alone for one moment, even in our moments of less-than-Christ-like behavior. Even when we've told God "It's okay, we've got this. We can work it out on our own, thank you very much!" He has never once abandoned us or allowed us to wallow for days on end in our selfishness and anger. We don't always succeed, but I truly believe he is showing both Ben and I how to think before we speak, and speak lovingly. He has taught us about hope, and shown us that even in times of trial and uncertainty, He is our best friend. He has shown us how to be the best friend that the other person needs. This is turning into a list, so let's just make it official and call it what it is!

This year, I have learned...

1). To speak up, and not harbor things inside. 

2). On the flip side, I have also learned what things I  DO need to keep inside. Not everything (especially sarcastic, sassy comments) needs to be said. 

3). To pick your battles. (See #2). 

4). Not to assume that every time Ben seems silent and distant, he is mad at me. 99% of the time, he is simply exhausted from work and is pondering something that went on there.

5). To pray for Ben. While engaged, I remember doing this all the time. Now that Ben and I are under the same roof and not facing the same set of temptations we did while dating, it's easy to get used to him being here and neglect that essential act. My focus shifts from myself and onto him, and his needs.

6). To enjoy cleaning. Okay, so this is a BIT of a stretch, but I'm learning that it doesn't have to be a burden to me, but instead a way to show Ben that I love him, and care about our home. I love when he can come home and completely relax, and not have to worry about anything. It's a small gift I can give him. (For the record, he's pretty awesome about cleaning with me, going grocery shopping and cooking meals when he has the weekends off!)

7). To trust. To trust God in what He's doing in our lives and to trust Ben with my heart. 

8). To not take time with Ben for granted. Whether it's 5 minutes or 5 hours, time with my best good friend is precious.

9). To think of Ben (and others, for that matter) more than myself. Selfishness and marriage do not belong in the same sentence...I'm slowly but surely learning this.

10). To love, even when it's hard. This is a continual process, but choosing to love, even when it's tough, has only served to strengthen our marriage.

All of these things are little tiny drops in the bucket of our married life. Those lessons, the "drops", will never fully fill that bucket, because there will always be something new to learn. Some of those drops will be bigger, some will just seem bigger, and some will be more like a gentle mist. God is showing his faithfulness and his love through each lesson, no matter its size. I am thankful he has seen fit to provide such a loving, thoughtful, and kind hearted man to walk beside me. Someone who is the earthly representation of his love, even when he (Ben) doesn't think so. There were many points in my life where I wondered if my Ben would ever come, but, as God so beautifully does, he brought him into my world at just the right time. Thank you for loving me, Benjamin Cole. I love you.

Oh, and as for those golden sconces? I (literally) ran to the store to get more gold spray paint, and then scraped off as much of the gross white paint as I could. The sandpaper I used left grooves and scratches in the once smooth sconces, but once they were painted gold, they didn't look half bad. (We're fans of the rustic look anyway!) Most importantly, apologies were made and forgiveness was given. Isn't grace a beautiful thing?

We both agreed that we will keep those cheap, and now slightly gaudy, sconces forever, and leave them gold. Wherever we go, they'll be hanging on the wall as a reminder that no matter the silliness or the size of our arguments, God's love, grace and forgiveness are MUCH bigger. There is no "golden sconce experience" too big for Ben and I to handle because of our God's great love. For that, I will always be thankful to the one with whom all things are possible.