Alethea's Birth Day

        In honor of Alethea's birthday today I finally wrote the story of her entrance into the world.

        Spring had just begun; the air was clear and the first Poppies were in bloom. For nine months now we'd been eagerly looking forward to the birth of our second child and we knew the time was drawing near. I'd been having contractions for weeks but something about them had changed in the previous days and I hoped that it meant the time would come soon. I also knew those contractions could go on for more weeks and I tried not to get too anxious. But I was ready to meet our girl, ready to give myself to the labor of bringing her to the light. Peregrine would kiss the belly that had slowly edged him out of my lap and talk to his baby, encouraging her to "open her door and come out."

      Even though my due date was still a week away I would awaken each morning thinking that "today might be the day". By mid-afternoon I hoped it wouldn't be as I could really use a good night's sleep before going into labor! (Not that anyone can get a good night's sleep when you have a very active little person dancing in your belly.) By night-time I would fall into bed, exhausted, uncomfortable, and eager to meet this baby. We prayed daily for a safe and natural delivery with no complications, a healthy baby, and, as a bonus, that she would come early!

        I'd been awake for about an hour-and-a-half the previous night having contractions, some of which were actually painful. My Mom brought us a pan of enchiladas for dinner that evening and Peregrine asked me if we could get our baby soon. Soon, my boy, we hoped it would be soon. We went to bed and Erik and I cuddled and talked as usual. I had a few contractions that felt pretty strong before drifting off to sleep in my nest of pillows. I woke up around 11:15 and was surprised to have three hard contractions just a few minutes apart. I prayed that if this wasn't "the real thing" it would stop so I could get some rest! In answer to my prayer my water broke and I found myself nudging Erik and asking him to go get me a towel! It's amazing how quickly he changed gears from sound asleep to action in a matter of seconds. We got up and called my midwife and our parents. My Mom and Dad came over within a half hour. My contractions were about three minutes apart from the time my water broke and were already quite uncomfortable. I went in to Peregrine's room and, even though he was sleeping, explained that Dada and I were going to the hospital to get his baby and that Papa would stay with him. He looked so big, sleeping soundly, and it seemed like such a short time ago that he was the tiny baby we were waiting to meet.

        We left the house about 1AM and drove through the still night to the hospital. A few clouds drifted lazily in front of the bright moon. Settled into our room at the hospital the nurse checked me and said I was only at three centimeters. I think those may be some of the most depressing words a woman in labor can hear. Even though I knew better, there was my secret hope that I'd already be at six or seven and that this baby would be born soon. Erik's Mom, Michele, and my sister Alyssa and niece Jessamyn arrived a little later. Erik and I walked slowly through the hallways, stopping for me to breathe through contractions. I would put my arms around him and rest my head on his chest; he was like my rock, always there, strong, calm, loving me through the pain, in awe of the strength that God had given me to bring forth his daughter. My dear friend Paula drove down from Washington and got there a little after 3AM and not long after that my sister Gloria came too. I was surrounded by many of the people who love me best in this life; each one offering encouragement and prayer and strength as each contraction brought us closer to the moment of birth. They took turns walking with me, rubbing my feet, my back, my arms, reading Scripture and laughing together. I had new appreciation for my Mom who went through this five times, as she said she wished she could take every other contraction from me and share the work!

        The pain was becoming more intense and I wondered how much longer it would be. I tried to stay focused on the reward that was to come, thinking of tiny fingers and toes and soft hair. I tried to remember that each contraction was doing its job of bringing her down, down, until the moment came for me to push her out. Around 4 the nurse checked me again and said I was 5-6 centimeters but she wasn't sure so she called her supervisor to come check me again. Once again I felt very discouraged, as at Peregrine's birth that was where I got stuck for hours and hours. The contractions were coming hard and one after another and I didn't think I could last for too much longer. We'd prayed that things would progress normally this time and everyone spoke words of encouragement and strength to me. The head nurse came in and said I was actually at 8 centimeters! I knew that I was in transition and that it was normal to feel unable to cope. At that point Erik and I got into the tub where I planned to give birth. The warm water enveloped me and felt so good on my weary body. My contractions began to slow down, allowing me to rest a bit in between. I felt more able to relax in the water. The room was dim with a light shining on us, my large belly glowing and magnified beneath the water. Erik faced me, and even though we were surrounded by family and friends, I felt like it was just him and I. His love was strengthening me as he held me through each pain. In between contractions we looked into each other's eyes, our foreheads touching, and whispered "I love you".

        I remember at one point feeling like I couldn't bear another contraction. They gripped me and held me and I moaned and called on Jesus for help. I began to feel the urge to push, something that never happened in my first birth. My midwife sat at the edge of the tub, ready to help if needed, but mostly offering advice and encouraging me to push when I felt ready. I loved that about this birth: there was a privacy about being in the water, a sense that this was something I was doing, with Erik, and not something that was being done to me. My midwife suggested I change positions so I got up on my knees and leaned my arms on the edge of the tub. Another contraction, and another, and I knew my baby would soon be in my arms. I pushed with all the strength left in me. Erik was right there, ready to catch her: he said he could feel her hair and a tiny ear. Strength flooded me and I felt her little body move through and out of me, into her Daddy's waiting arms. He brought her up out of the water. She was the gift I gave to him and he gave to me as he gently handed me my daughter. Everyone began to praise God for this brand new life, this tiny person, all wet and purple and precious.

        Alethea Poppy Joy was born at 5:38 in the morning on March 30th, just six hours after my water had broken. God truly answered all our prayers; my labor was fast and normal and we had a perfectly healthy baby girl who was born six days early. Needless to say we were completely taken by this little one. Her skin was softer that anything I could imagine and smelled sweeter than honey. In the words of Peregrine she had dark "wispy wispy hair and sparkling eyes". My Dad brought him to meet her when she was just a few hours new. I heard him before he got to our room, his red rubber boots padding down the hallway. In he came, looking happy and expectant. He took one look at his baby sister, laid his head on her and said "hello!" She was pink and I called her a little Rosebud, tiny and soft and fragrant. Someone said that babies are a very nice way to start people and I'd have to agree. And if very nice babies become very nice people then we have much to look forward to.

Jr. Bacon Cheeseburger, Anyone?

        We were over at my parents' the other day and my sister's husband Scott came in with a bag from Carl's Jr. Peregrine, being the inquisitive kid he is, went over and started asking him about it, what it was and where it was from. Fast food is a glamorous mystery to him, just like it was to me as a kid. When Scott said his sandwich was from Carl's Jr. Peregrine exclaimed "Oh, we go there for our lunch every day!" This coming from the boy who has been to a fast food restaurant maybe three times in his life and never Carl's Jr! We do drive by it often as it's in between our house and my parents' though. We were in the van this morning when he asked if we could go to "Jr. Eric Carle's" for lunch! It took me a minute to get that one!

Peregrine's World

        I often get up in the morning to find a hot cup of tea waiting for me, made by my ever-lovin' husband before he leaves for work. Lately he's also been making Peregrine's favorite drink, a molasses steamer. Last week Peregrine got up while I was still in bed. He came out and saw that Daddy had made him a steamer, then came back and cuddled with me for a while and told me all about what he had found: "Well, Dada said to himself this morning "Hmmm, what kind of hot drink would my boy like on this cold morning? I'll make him a steamer." Mom, Dad made me a chocolate steamer because I like chocolate steamers. Do you like chocolate steamers? We all like chocolate steamers. We're a chocolate steamer family!" A chocolate steamer does sound nice, but I'm afraid that even my deprived boy knows the difference between blackstrap molasses and chocolate! He must not have tasted it yet.
        Hot milk with molasses, by the way, was a tradition that started for us a very long time ago, when I was just about Peregrine's age. My Dad was in Bible school at the time and each day when he came home he made himself a cup of coffee and me some warm milk with molasses. I felt very grown up with such an elegant beverage. We would sit together and talk about how our day had been. My Dad was very cool by the way. He had big sideburns and when we were walking together he would say "Howdy!" to the people we met along the way. I was sure that "howdy" must be the coolest way to greet people and I practiced saying it just like my Daddy.
        Peregrine doesn't sleep anymore during the day but still has a rest time each afternoon. He listens to Bible story tapes and looks at books in his bed. Yesterday when I went to get him up he had shaped his blanket in such a way that it looked like a cave. He had a sipper cup with water and informed me that it was Jesus' car. Wow, Jesus' car! And that He was driving in it with his disciples, into the rabbit hole, which was the cave in the blanket! I love to see the things that my boy imagines and pretends. I can't keep up with al the different roles he plays and expects me to play, but it's sure fun trying! (Either fun or exasperating, depending on the minute!)
        And then there are the dreams he's been having lately. There was the "horrible dream" where there was an ant and a tiny reindeer on some ice. And then he was flying (with his body, not an airplane) and he flew to another house. He saw a lady in a rocking chair and she saw him and then he called out for me but I didn't answer him. Horrible indeed. A few nights ago I went in to cover him and he frantically asked me "Mom, Mom, is my lunch box safe?" "Huh? Your lunch box? Yes, of course it's safe. It's right here in our house." The next morning I got the whole story: He had disobeyed me with his lunch box and put it in Grandma's fan. Then he was crying and crying, Grandma turned the fan on, and his lunch box went flying through the air. There was some black stuff on the top of it and when Papa tried to get it off he started yelling "No! No, Papa!"
        Yup, that's my boy! Anyone out there who is into interpreting dreams will probably be able to psycho-analize my son and tell me all the ways that I've already messed him up. Go ahead and tell me; I need to know. He's a great boy, full of life and energy, a strong will, a great imagination and the vocabulary to share his stories and dreams with us all.

The Starfish Eggshell Cake and Other Such Oddities

        Life with small children is a lot of fun, a lot of work, and totally unpredictable. Things don't usually go as planned and I'm slowly learning to hold loosely to my expectations. Poppy will turn one on Thursday and we had a little celebration for her last Saturday. Peregrine helped me mix up the cake, which was lemon poppy seed to be decorated with flowers. He likes to put his hands in the sugar, stir things, dump ingredients into the bowl, eat butter, and adjust the speed of the mixer. He also likes to crack the eggs but freaks out if he gets any egg goo on his fingers. He usually taps the egg on the edge of the counter then hands it to me to break open. When we were making Poppy's cake he cracked not one, but two eggs, a little too far open and they broke open onto the floor where little Poppy seized her opportunity to come and rub her hands in the mess! We finally finished the batter and I didn't notice until I was spooning it into the pans that there were some lovely brown eggshells in it. Poppy seeds add a nice crunch, but eggshells really add that gourmet touch, don't you think? (Just let me know if you'd like my recipe and I might lend you my assistant too!)
        Saturday morning came and I had a bit of time to myself to assemble and decorate the cake. I covered it with pale yellow frosting and then planned to pipe orange, purple, and dark pink flowers on it. I'm not very good at piping and my flowers looked just like starfish! They were even all the colors that starfish come in. My wonderful husband walked in to the kitchen at that point and commented on the nice starfish I was putting on the cake! What to do? Try to pipe some anemones and coral and turn it into an under-the-sea party? I added some yellow centers and green leaves and they ended up being recognizable as flowers after all. Whew!
        The party was a lot of fun. I'd like to say that Peregrine was on his best behavior but I'm afraid that wasn't the case. I really had hoped he would be; I planned for him to be, but it just didn't happen. That expectation thing again. The highlight of his acting up (or out, or whichever direction he was acting) came after I had consented to let him have a little root beer. He's been pretty deprived his whole life and I usually limit his drinking to milk, water, and very diluted juice. Needless to say he was a bit taken aback by the bubbles in the root beer and left it sitting on the counter "for later". I didn't think much of it until he was eating his piece of Starfish Eggshell cake and apparently decided it was later. Instead of asking nicely (I wish I would say like he usually does. We're working on that.) he began to scream at the top of his lungs "I need my beer! Where's my beer? I need my beer!" And as chagrined as I was at his rude behavior I actually had to turn around to keep him from seeing me laughing at the sight of my three year old hollering for his beer!
        All in all it was a special celebration. How could it not be when we were celebrating the life of such a wonderful little person? Peregrine's help and antics made it all the more memorable. Years from now I will remember these things because they were unexpected and made me laugh. I will remember Poppy digging in to her cupcake, lifting it up to her face, smashing and crumbling it and rubbing it in her hair. I'll remember how beautiful she looked, her big blue eyes shining as she looked at her candle, and how sweet she appeared in the poppy dress I made her. I look forward to many more celebrations in her life. I'll plan them and prepare for them with the help of my growing children. And I'll try to let go of my expectations and enjoy every moment.

Sisters, Part 1: Alyssa

Alyssa, Gloria, and Rebeca at Gloria's Wedding

    Alyssa is a wonderful sister, friend, wife, and mom to her three kids. I've been blessed to be her baby sister all my life, and I think, for the most part, it's been a good thing for both of us. Our relationship started when our Dad snuck her and my brother into the hospital to see me. I was tiny and she said I squeaked like a mouse. I know she loved me, but I was also the bratty kid sister who was very annoying at times. For the record, we have a cassette tape of her making some radio show when I was just a few years old. I came into the room and she told me she was making a surprise for me so I had to leave. After my departure she admitted to her audience that it was merely a ploy to get rid of me. Such cunning! I think she's always been a bit jealous that I'm the favorite daughter and taken it out on me.
    When we were kids we used to fight over whose name the roosters were crowing: listen closely and you will hear "Re-Re-Becaaaa!" She just insisted, though, that they were saying "Aaaaa-Ly-Saaaaaa!" Only as an adult did she finally admit that they were really saying my name all along. I guess she couldn't deceive herself any longer. We used to lay in our bunk beds at night and after it had been quiet for a while one of us would bark. Yes, like a dog. Then, we would adamently deny it and insist it was our dog outside. Since I was the more obnoxious of the two I probably carried the barking on way longer than she did, but she humored me none-the-less.
    Being five years older than I am I always looked up to her as pretty accomplished and very cool. She took guitar lessons and had a really groovy quilted bag to carry her guitar in. She had such an elegant flower-power name: Alyssa Mintflower. I was stuck with Rebeca Kathryn. She could make her naturally curly hair so big in the eighties and she got to spend the summer working away from home at a camp where I could only dream of going someday. On her sixteenth birthday my Mom made her spaghetti and cheesecake. Her friends came over and they got to eat all by themselves by candlelight. All the younger siblings were banished to our rooms and I was so jealous.  
      The first time I remember seeing my Dad cry was when some boy came and drove off to take her to town. She had him in a real emotional crisis when she up and got herself married when she was only 19, paving the way for her sisters who came after her. All the men in the wedding had mullets and someone sang a love song that was originally done by Stryper. It was very, very cool. My Dad, though, was so traumatized by giving his eldest daughter away that my brother and I didn't dare get married for a full 11 years after that. (Just to be fair, Alyssa married with my parents' blessing and it had nothing to do with my brother and I waiting so long.) Daddy has now given all three of his daughters in marriage and I must say that he only held up slightly better the third time around at my younger sister's recent wedding.
    I have always loved and admired Alyssa, and not just because of her big hair. She used to write me the best letters when I was off doing mission work. She had a set of dolphin stamps which, as a teenager I had turned my nose up at thinking they were too dorky for me. She used to stamp them all over the page and then write the most hilarious captions coming out of their mouths. When I went to Mexico on an outreach she gave me well-seasoned advice, like learn to say no in Spanish, never drink Sangria, and don't swim in the ocean in Mazatlan. (Her husband almost drowned there.) On top of the funny and encouraging letters I know she prayed often for me, and still does.
    I think she's such a good mom and I really admire the relationships she has with her kids. She's always homeschooled them and I'm able to learn a lot from the things she's done. When I'm frustrated with Peregrine she's always so encouraging; she had toddlers not so long ago and has come through with most of her sanity intact. More important than sanity, she still has a great sense of humor and a lot of wisdom to share.  She is loyal and honest and  caring and a lot of fun. I 'm incredibly blessed to have her as my sister and my friend.