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Wednesday, March 30, 2011

Advice from My Mother


My mother is so wise. She has raised four boys and two girls, the last of which has just turned eighteen. Being on the other side of the world from her as I raise my own children is difficult. Thank God for the internet!

I recently emailed her about some frustrations I was having as a mother. Who better to talk to than her! I've always respected her as a wise woman, but she never ceases to blow me away with her calm, wise advice. I just wanted to share some words she encouraged and instructed me with today via email:

"I think the most significant factor in living your life as a wife and mother is acceptance. Doing your 'work', which is 24/7 and mostly goes unnoticed, without the expectation of appreciation will free you from the trap of resentment. That doesn't mean it is easy to do that. Matt.23:11 has always helped me, 'But the greatest among you shall be your servant.' Being the servant in the home is being like Christ, this is what he would do. Doing what I can so that the people around me can be the best they can be is what God has called me to do."

I only hope and pray for grace to live by this advice. Thanks, Mom!

Monday, January 10, 2011

Alana's Birth (The long, detailed version)


My due date of December 15th came and went with no definite signs of pending labor. Painless contractions had increased slightly around that time and my bones began to hurt like they were shifting and preparing for birth. But there was no indication that we were anywhere close to labor. In fact, two more weeks went by before labor actually did start. Those two weeks were so, so long! Thankfully we had friends staying with us for those two weeks who distracted me from my impatience and who helped us immensely around the house (thanks Justin and Erin!).

Once I was 41 weeks we went in for an ultrasound to make sure everything was still healthy. The fluid and placenta looked fine. All the baby's vitals checked out. But she was a little on the small side. We went again the day before I was 42 weeks. Everything was still healthy and it appeared that the baby had gained a good amount of weight, which made me very happy! Of course, Christmas came and went with a no show from the baby. I had never imagined that this wouldn't be her first Christmas! Really? TWO weeks late?!

On December 28th around 3:00 in the afternoon regular contractions began. They were still painless but they came at regular intervals. I was so thankful for some action but I began to feel really anxious once night came. In fact, I was so anxious I couldn't sleep. I really wanted to get the show on the road, and I certainly wanted to meet our little girl, but I was scared. I knew this time around how painful it could and probably would be. I slept off and on that night in our bed, on the sofa and in Max's room. I was really hungry, but it was difficult to eat. I played on the computer and talked to family some. I also texted Deborah (the midwife) before I went to bed to let her know something was happening and then again at 4:00 am because I was so anxious I didn't know what to do. She said that I must rest and that I could do it. I slept some after that.

Morning came and Max and Mike got up. I was less anxious in the daylight, but it was still difficult. The anxiety came and went. The contractions became more irregular. They still weren't painful. I really wanted to kick into labor, but I was so scared of the pending pain. I cried to Mike about it some and felt better, but the anxiety returned. I texted my friend Amy around 7:30 a.m. because I just needed to talk to someone. She told me she was coming over. She came at 10:00 and immediately began praying over me. I was overwhelmed with relief as she prayed. She kept me company until 12:00. It was still really difficult to eat because of the anxiety that kept coming and going. I realized that a big part of my anxiety was that I didn't feel like I could adequately care for Max at that time. I was so concerned that he wasn't getting the attention from me that he needed. So, as we had planned beforehand, Max went to back to Amy's house with her to stay until labor was over. Amy is married and has a one-year old. They live a five minute drive (or fifteen minutes, depending on traffic : ) from our house. Max is very comfortable with them, and it really put my mind at ease that he was at there house having a good time. Amy texted Mike periodically to let him know how Max was doing. He had a blast the whole time! This really allowed me to relax.

Besides the fact that I realized it would help me relax to send Max with Amy, the contractions were picking up in frequency and intensity by noon the 29th. Before Amy left I texted Deborah to let her know the contractions were about every six minutes and about 30 or 40 seconds long. I knew it was still early, but Deborah lived about an hour away and I didn't want to wait too long. She agreed that it was early but said she and her partner midwife would come out after they ate lunch.

Deborah and her mom have lived in the Philippines for many years. They head up a birthing home about an hour from our house. Deborah was recommended to me by several other missionaries when I was asking about peoples' birth experiences here in Manila. Though we were skeptical about a home birth (mostly because traffic is so unpredictable here and we were worried about how long it would take to transport to a hospital in case of emergency), we visited the birthing home and instantly felt at ease with Deborah and her mom. They were convinced that home birth was the better option for us rather than coming out to the birthing home to give birth. We agreed. Every time I would visit the birthing home or Deborah's home for a prenatal visit I would feel comfortable and at ease. Deborah was always very reassuring and empowering. She never made me feel uncomfortable or ashamed about concerns I had or decisions I made. I would always leave visits with her feeling excited about the birth and confident that we had made the right decision.

Deborah and Lorni, a Filipina midwife, arrived at our house a little after 1:00 p.m. Though Deborah doesn't usually check for dilation she agreed to see how far along I was to determine what we should do next. I was only about 4 cm dilated. She said that they could stay or leave, whatever helped me relax more. She had a little talk with me to say that I could hold this thing back longer by being uptight or I could let go and let it happen. It was a choice I could make at that point. Mike and I talked and prayed about it and we decided that we wanted them to stay so that I could feel free to let go and allow the process to happen. They were perfectly happy to stay. We all talked for a while and I hung up some verses I had prepared earlier in our bedroom and in the living room. Deborah took a nap in Max's bed and Lorni in the guest room while Mike and I rested in our room. Mike took a couple naps that day assuming that we would be up all night laboring. I was actually able to rest some and the contractions began getting more intense. Sometimes they hurt a lot and sometimes not much. Anxiety came and went at this point. But as labor got more intense I forgot about anxiety.

Finally I decided I needed a change. Lorni was up talking with our helper, Ate Merly ("Ate" means "older sister" and is a common title used here for a female older than oneself). It is customary to have a helper here, so we have one who comes three days a week to help out with household work. She has been an incredible blessing to our family, and it was no different on this day! I asked if they could start setting up the pool that the birthing home had loaned us. Mike came out and they all three worked on setting it up in the living room. Mike told me later that he didn't feel like we needed to put it up yet. He felt it was premature. I was also unsure if I was ready for it yet, but I had to do something different at this point. It was about 5:00 when the pool was set up. Deborah came out at that time as well. She watched me work through the contractions. They were two minutes apart and getting really painful. She was sure I was ready for the pool. I got in for about an hour, and it helped me relax some. The warm water felt good. The contractions continued to intensify.

The midwives monitored the baby's heartbeat with a doppler and felt that her heartbeat was too fast. Deborah asked me to get out for a while and try a different position to see if her heart rate would go down. Thankfully it did as I labored standing up and squatting in an upright position. I did that for about an hour and then decided to get back in the pool. By that time it was about 7:00 p.m. The contractions were really hard by this time, but I kept telling myself that it was going to be hours yet. I didn't want to freak out just yet and run out of steam before the end. Lorni checked the baby's heartbeat every other contraction and it stayed steady. I breathed some of the oxygen that they brought. Deborah kept reminding me after every contraction to keep breathing. It was good she did because I kept forgetting to stay on top of it in between contractions.
Both Deborah and Mike kept telling me how well I was doing. Their encouragement really helped. Mike and Ate brought me water, gatorade and gatorade popsicles to drink and eat to keep me hydrated. They all took turns pouring warm water over my back while I labored kneeling on the side of the pool. Sometimes the warm water felt good. Sometimes I didn't like it and I would bat the poor person away. In between contractions I would rest against the sturdy side of the pool. When a contraction came I would lift my body up with my arms to a squatting position to work through it. My hands, face and legs got all numb and tingly so Deborah had me breathe into a paper bag.

The contractions were so extremely painful now, and I began to feel panicky. I kept telling myself not to lose it because this was going to continue for hours. It began to get difficult to breath properly during the contractions. Deborah kept telling me that I was close. I would shake my head and say (at least in my head, I don't know if said it out loud), "No, I'm not." I didn't want to think it was soon if it was still hours away! I thought Deborah was just trying to help me think positively.

I began to feel an urge to push around 8:00. I was still in the pool leaning on the side. Each time a contraction came I would visualize myself opening up and a head coming out. I worked hard to keep my mind on top of it--allowing myself to accept the pain and open up. The feeling of pressure was incredible! I asked Deborah if it was ok to push. She said she couldn't immediately feel the head, but that I should do what I feel like doing. She said that whether I pushed or not the baby would come out. I just needed to keep breathing. I was afraid it was too soon to push. The bag of waters still hadn't ruptured, so I was afraid the pushing part would be more difficult. But I felt the urge to push. The next contraction that came I pushed a little bit. I think the bag of waters broke at this point, I'm not sure. The second one that came I pushed hard and the head popped out! Deborah peeled the bag away from the baby (or so Mike told me). The next one came and I pushed again. I felt the body come tumbling out! Deborah reached out to catch the baby since I didn't automatically do it myself. I think that was partly because I didn't realize she was already coming out!

It was 8:21 p.m., three and 1/2 hours after the intense labor had started. Mike and I were shocked! I couldn't believe she was already out! I sat down in the pool against the side and she handed me the baby. We wrapped her in a towel but still had her submerged in the warm water. She made a little peep, but no cry. She seemed content to just lay against my chest. Thankfully, my waters were clear even though she was inside for an extra two weeks. The only time she cried was when I lifted her out of the water a little bit to arrange her. I'm not sure why, but I almost immediately checked to see if she really was a girl. Yes. Mike asked a few minutes later if anyone had checked to see.

She instantly wanted to nurse. Mike called our parents to let them know she was here. Eventually Lorni clamped the cord and Mike cut it. I just stared at her and said over and over, "I can't believe it's over!", and "She's beautiful", and "Praise Jesus!" It was simply amazing!

I remember looking at the clock around 8:00 p.m. and thinking how wonderful it would be if she was born before 8:30, Max's bed time, so that Max could come home that night. I considered that a ridiculous thought at the time. I looked at the clock right after the birth and realized that Max was probably still up. I told Mike to call Amy and Edwin right away to bring Max home. I was so happy that we didn't have to spend one night away from him! Mike called Edwin. Amy was getting the boys ready for bed. They agreed to come right away.

I'm not sure how long I was in the pool after the birth, maybe 15 or 20 minutes. I got out to deliver the placenta after handing the baby to Mike. He took his shirt off to hold her so that she would stay warm. I delivered the placenta on the birthing stool. I didn't care what was happening, I was so euphoric.

A couple people, I think Deborah and Ate, helped me to our bed. Ate had made it up with a shower curtain under the sheets and hospital pads on top. And believe me, adult diapers are a great way to keep things clean : ). Then they brought the baby to me so I could nurse her. By that time Amy and Edwin showed up with Max. Mike brought Max in and he peeked at the baby. Between being away from Mommy and Daddy for about eight hours, our house being filled with people, a pool being in the living room which he wasn't allowed to get into, and the baby crying he was overwhelmed. Poor little guy! Mike was able to calm him down and put him to bed, and he was better in the morning.

We talked to family and updated our friends on facebook. I ate and showered and ate some more. The midwives checked the baby over and gave her a vitamin K shot. They eventually weighed her and it said 6 pounds. We didn't believe it because she seemed bigger (however, the other scale that Deborah brought two days later also said six pounds). She was 19.5 inches long. They checked my blood pressure and all that and hung around till 10:30. Our amazing helper stayed until about 11:30! It was hard to sleep that night, I was so happy and excited!

We named her a couple days later. Alana Evelyn Wagner. Alana is close to the Hebrew word for oak tree. I love the sound of "Alana" (uh LAW na), and I love the pictures in the Bible (Psalms and Jeremiah) of the tree planted by the water, bearing fruit and being a home for many creatures. Evelyn is my Grandmother's first name (though she goes by her middle name, Bea). I love her and miss her (since we live so far away) so much, and want to honor her. And now, three weeks after naming her, I feel like her name is a perfect fit.

It's sad to not have family around during this time of transition. It truly is. However, we are so thankful for our many friends who helped us before, during and after the birth! We certainly have felt the presence of Jesus with us through all of them! Thank you so much to Deborah and Lorni, Ate Merly, Justin and Erin, Amy and Edwin (and Josiah!), Matt and Abbie, Erin Johnson, Peter and Tosca, Sarah, Claire, Kim, Cheryl, Val and Nate, Decai and Reena, Kuya Romy and Jeff, Katerina, Robyn, Maria (this is dangerous, because I have for sure forgotten someone) for your emotional support, visits, food, gifts, help with shopping, encouragement, prayers and listening ears. You all mean so much to us! I am also so thankful for our family and friends back home who have prayed for us, encouraged us and sent us cards and baby things. A special thanks to Melissa for the beautiful poem you wrote especially for Alana! We love you all and can't wait for you to meet our little Alana.

Monday, November 8, 2010

Flour, oil and God's grace

"And she and Elijah and her son continued to eat from her supply of flour and oil for many days. For no matter how much they used, there was always enough left in the containers, just as the Lord had promised through Elijah." (1Kings 17:15 and 16).

I wonder what that woman felt that first time she used up the rest of her flour and oil. She thought it was her and her son's last meal and then they would die. It's hard to imagine those feelings. But then she went back to her jars, just to check one last time maybe or because she believed what Elijah said that it wouldn't run out. There was just enough to make one more loaf of bread! A miracle! Did she feel a little more hopeful this time? Maybe this would happen again? Maybe Elijah--that crazy hobo--was right? She went back again and again and there was just enough for the next loaf. Her faith must have grown. Was there a nagging thought in the back of her mind that maybe this time it'll be all gone? Maybe the oil and flour have run out and now we will starve to death.

I can't help but compare. I think the oil and flour are like God's grace. I want to store it up like I do canned goods and toilet paper and ice cream. I want to make sure I have enough. I'm so afraid I'll run out. I'm afraid that the BIG TEST is coming up and that I'll fail because I won't have any more grace. Each day I face small tests. God's grace is always there. Just enough for the next test. But maybe one day I will use it too much and the next time it just won't be there. Maybe, just maybe it'll just run out and I'll be left...graceless. I'll starve. I'll die, because I can't live without God's grace.

In times of high anxiety, times like I faced a couple weeks ago, this is my fear. Maybe I just won't be able to get through. What if I'm left alone to fight the battle? What if God's just not there? What if He's just had enough of my neediness and just won't give anymore grace? What's around the corner? Terrible sickness for me? Horrible heath issues for Max? What if that's when the grace runs out? This attitude is debilitating. But it's often what I struggle with. Not because God's grace has ever run out. Not because I've faced terribly difficult circumstances. I guess it's because Satan will use whatever he has. He uses my personality, my weaknesses. He uses my tendency to think too much about the what ifs.

Thankfully, I have ammunition. It's the Word of God. That's what I used two weeks ago when my hormones where going crazy and I was sick and Max was sick and then later Mike was sick and all the what ifs of life were filling my mind so much that I couldn't think straight. I'm so grateful for God's comforting Word. It was a battle. It wasn't a once and for all, quote-the-scripture-and-then-it's-over kind of thing. It was a moment by moment, week-long battle. I'm glad it's over for now. And His grace will be enough next time too. It's not running out any time soon (ever!)!

Thursday, September 16, 2010

Raina Grace 1


About 7 months ago Mike and I heard about some needs at an orphanage nearby. There were several children abandoned at the hospital around the same time and the director needed to find foster parents. We decided to check it out even though we knew we probably couldn't do anything about it until we were finished with language study. So, we drove to the orphanage to ask questions and see what the place was like.

The director, from North America, brought a baby down to show us right away. She was a couple weeks old but about 4 weeks premature. Tiny, beautiful, healthy, strong. Abandoned at birth by her mother. Why? I guess we'll never know. The director named her Raina Grace, raina meaning queen in Tagalog (the most common language here in the Philippines). Queen of grace. Max was jealous but completely taken by her tiny little bottle of milk.

I fell in love right away, of course. We decided pretty quickly that we couldn't foster for a few months at least. I was struggling enough with one child and language school. But I dreamed and prayed about the possibilities in the future. It actually scared me to death to think of fostering. I have this gift, you know, the kind that is a gift and a curse--compassion, empathy. I put myself in other's situations. I lay my heart out there and then it gets all chopped up. I'm afraid of the chopping, the pain, the endless tears. So, I was afraid of fostering, but the idea grew and grew. It was all I could think of.

Max and I went back to the orphanage to sit with the kids and hold tiny Raina Grace. School continued. Mike's parents came for a visit. Time passed. About 2 months after we met Raina Grace I was took a pregnancy test. When I saw the positive sign my heart fell, I have to be honest. I couldn't imagine how I could even handle being pregnant, giving birth and caring for two instead of one. Much less could I imagine taking care of three, especially along with the emotional load of a foster child. But I also couldn't imagine allowing a fresh little life grow up in an orphanage where she didn't get as many cuddles and kisses and skin to skin contact that she needed. I COULD do this for her. It is POSSIBLE. By the way, the orphanage is a great one. It is run by believers and there's a lot of love and prayers holding each child up. But there simply isn't enough time to give 10 babies in one room with one helper the attention they need. So, to say the least, I was torn.

I got over the "disappointment" of the positive pregnancy test. I love babies and ever since weaning Max I have wanted another one. I just thought it would come in a different form. I even blocked out the thoughts of Raina Grace for awhile. I didn't visit the orphanage for a couple months. Finally, when I went back, I hardly recognized her.

The door is not closed for our family to foster, but I know for sure at this time, though language school is over, that I cannot do it. I am struggling too much with pregnancy (though it is an easy one) and Max to think I could give my all to Mike, Max, Mini Me AND Raina Grace right now. I hate that. It feels like a cop out to me because I realize the impact we could have on this one little life. Things could be so different for her.

I'm not sure why I'm writing this. I want Raina Grace. But I also want her to be in someone's home with someone's tender, constant care and attention. I don't want to be selfish and keep her all to myself. I'm not sure if she's in a position (paperwork wise) to be adopted yet, but if there's anyone out there who wants to start the process...she's here as well as many others like her.

Saturday, September 11, 2010

Fall's Here!

Ok, so we don't really have fall here in the Philippines. But it's one thing that I miss very much about living in the U.S. So, I try to keep it alive by doing fallish things. Last year I bought some pumpkin spice candles. This year I started out by making apple crisp. I want to share the recipe I used this time because it was particularly good and very simple. I got it from my Betty Crocker book:

Apple Crisp
  • 4 medium tart apples sliced (4 cups)
  • 3/4 cup packed brown sugar
  • 1/2 cup all-purpose flour
  • 1/2 cup quick-cooking or old-fashioned oats
  • 1/3 cup butter cut up in small chunks
  • 1 tsp ground cinnamon
  • 1/2 tsp nutmeg
1. Heat oven to 375. Grease bottom and sides of square pan 8x8x2, with butter.
2. Spread apples in pan. Mix remaining ingredients (I did it with my hands); sprinkle over apples
3. Bake about 30 minutes or until topping is golden brown and apples are tender when pierced with fork. Serve with vanilla ice cream.

There's nothing special about this recipe, but I found that I enjoyed this apple crisp more than usual. Who knows, maybe it's just my crazy pregnant self, but this recipe is GOOD.

Thursday, September 9, 2010

Value


I have struggled for a long time with the concept of WHO I AM as a wife and then, more recently, as a mother. In our society we are constantly bombarded by who is valuable--what the person looks like, what they have and by what kind of work they do. Well, I am currently on year five of an identity crisis. The Bible and many people that I greatly admire tell me one thing. My society (be it in the U.S. or here in the Philippines) tells me something else. What makes me valuable?

In my struggle I have become somewhat bitter about who I am right now. My "job" looks so mundane. Even as a missionary I am sort of second rate because I don't have a ministry outside my home at this point. I'm not changing the world. I'm not affecting large groups of people. I'm here at home organizing our lives, cooking meals, washing dishes, changing diapers, wiping faces, trying to make sure I have enough time for my husband despite the time and energy I put into being a mom. And as soon as I think, "Ah hah! Here's my chance! Max is getting older. I have more energy!" we get a little surprise in the form of a positive pregnancy test (that's a different issue altogether).

So, because I'm "sacrificing" so much (you know, sacrificing the approving looks of the outside world, the pat on the back from the feminists--for lack of a better word, and that stamp "Super Mom" which actually means "Wow! You take care of your husband and children as well as working 8+ hours a day outside the home, are involved in the PTA, head up two ministries at church and have the energy to hang out with the girls one night a week!") I feel like my son and my husband "owe" it to me. Max owes it to me to be a good boy and not throw his food on the floor or act silly at nap time or throw a fit in the middle of the mall. Mike owes it to me for ALL that I do for him and for sacrificing what I "could be."

So the other afternoon, as I'm carrying laundry to the back room, still feeling a bit frustrated from my almost sabotaged attempts to get Max down for his nap, I hear that little voice inside. I feel I can safely say that voice is God's. It wasn't mine and it wasn't any evil being's. The voice said, "Take joy in what I've given you to do." It was clear, pure and exactly what I needed to hear. And it keeps coming back to me when that bitterness begins to creep in. "Take joy in what I've given you to do." I have been placing my value in what I think other people see as valuable. Therefore, I resent the "littleness" of my identity. I don't think that's how God sees me. I'm pretty sure I am exactly where He wants me and I can say with confidence with the Bible backing me that He considers me valuable. He considers my role and my identity valuable. It is what He has given me to do.

And by the way, no one owes me anything. Mike, Max and myself owe everything to Jesus Christ for dying for us and giving us a new life. I shouldn't expect something of my son or my husband because they owe it to me. They owe whatever is good and right to God, and so do I.

I'm not saying that I'm jumping around with joy as I wash dishes or walk around the block ONE MORE TIME in 85 degree heat with 90% humidity because Max wants to. BUT, I'm getting somewhere. I'm moving forward with this "identity crisis" that I've been in. Those words just keep coming back to me when I want to be resentful, "Take joy in what I've given you to do."

Monday, September 6, 2010

Little Helper


Mike and I have recently been reading up on raising children. Max is at the age (almost 2) where he can understand discipline. It has been our prayer from the beginning that he would be a worshiper of Jesus AT AN EARLY AGE.

I was reading the story of Hannah and Samuel today. It's always been a touching story to me. I read it when I was first pregnant with Max. I came across it again today, and for the first time I understood a little of what Hannah must have felt to literally hand her child over to God when he was just 3 or 4 (maybe older, who knows when the weaned children then). I cannot CANNOT imagine the pain she must have felt to say good bye to her little boy. Her first child.

But what really struck me today were these verses: "Now Samuel, though only a boy, was the Lord's helper. He wore a linen tunic just like that of a priest.... Samuel grew up in the presence of the Lord" (I Samuel 2:18, 19 and 21). Now THAT is what I want for Max...and also for Little Mini, yet to be born. How do we lead him (them) to this? What will it cost us? What pain will we feel as we realize more and more that he (and she) is GOD'S, not ours? Oh, this is a hard job! It's beautiful and amazing and full of purpose, but it's HARD!