Ava Grace

There's a backstory here that I haven't found words to share yet... Ava's back story.  How we learned of her impending arrival, and the faith journey of my pregnancy with her.  Of how she got her name.... And at some point, in the near future, I'll find the words and commit them to paper, but for now I'm still wrestling with that chapter and all that it means in overall landscape of my life.  

What is fresh, and new and ready to be told is the story of her birth.  The peaceful, redemptive, amazing story of her birth.  I had alot of fear approaching the end of my pregnancy.  I'd had three less than ideal (and one somewhat traumatic for me) precipitous labor births and I was genuinely terrified that I was going to be the lady who gave birth in the Mid Town Tunnel.  

We'd set this birth up differently.  My prenatal care was with the Midwifery Center at DePaul Hospital, instead of with an OB.  I did quite a bit of reading about natural childbirth, about labor interventions, the pros and cons, and letting nature (and God) direct things.  I'd had three unmedicated births, which I thought made me an expert in that department.  Isn't it funny how in the moment we qualify ourselves an expert God in His divine intervention takes the opportunity to teach us more.  

My friend Sarah Blight wrote a book on birth (Birth Book#2).    I downloaded it to support Sarah, and read it because I had terrible pregnancy induced indigestion one night and couldn't sleep.  I know, I shouldn't admit that in writing, but I thought I knew it all, remember?  Turns out, I didn't know very much.  There was so much I'd missed with my previous three births.  Skin to skin time, delayed cord clamping, immediate nursing, etc.  There was so much information on how our bodies work to produce healthier newborns, healthier bonding, and healthier children that I honestly never knew.  (You can buy the Birth Book 2 Here: Buy Birth Book 2)

So I learned... I learned I wanted a really natural birth. I knew that I wanted to bond with this baby at her birth.  I have never really bonded during pregnancy.  I tend to feel more like a host for an invasive parasite than a vessel for new life. (Just trying to put it out there, folks. Pregnancy is not my jive.) So with this baby number four, it was so very important to me that we got the best possible chance to bond at her birth.  Which meant (for me) as little intervention as possible.  A peaceful and welcoming birth space with support (really, anywhere but the tunnel!). Cuddling and bonding skin to skin as long as possible.  Delayed cord clamping, etc. etc. etc. If you are expecting, and are only as knowledgable as I was, read the book, you'll be glad you did.  

The bottom line is that I had all of those things... After a 12 hour first stage of laboring at home, through the night I finally succumbed to the fact that I might actually be in labor after two false alarms, and weeks of contractions, the rhythmic pains finally began to built towards active labor.  I put my foot down, (literally, there was a stomp.) I told God that he'd have to break my water before I headed back to the midwifery center, only to be patted on the back and sent home hugely pregnant doing the waddle of shame down the long hallway past the Labor and Delivery nurses. The contractions got closer, and I repented for my foot stomp, hung my head, and asked my loving husband to illegally pass vehicles on the the road.  (Just get me through the tunnel!)  

We got settled in... I loaded my worshipful birth play list.  Thanks to Jason Upton for providing much of the worship music that reminded me that I was not alone, and that He was leading me, not only through labor, but into this next very distinct but uncertain season of my life.  I plugged in my diffuser and the aromas of Frankincense and Lavender filled the space.  The hot tub bubbled, and we waited.  Waited on the next contraction... reflected on the births of our other children.  Waited on God.  Waited on the midwife.  Waited on Ava. We laughed.  We cried. My friends arrived.  Thank you Jenny for capturing every single moment on camera and holding my hand, and Jami for the cool cloths, the back rub, and for feeling every second of that pain with me. Thank you for making me laugh in between.  Thank you Robyn our wonderful nurse for only taking your eyes off of me to look at the clock and knowing even before I did that we were really really close.  And thank you to my Midwife Jen, who came exactly when you needed to, never got rattled, and strongly lead me through the birth.  You promised we'd have a ball... and we did. Thanks for being awesome.

Ava was born in the water just two and a half hours after we pulled up to the midwifery center.  It was quick and productive, but longer than my other labors. It felt peaceful, and gradual, and thorough.  I had all of the elements I desired.  And the bonding, it was more powerful than I'd ever imagined it could be.

God had a plan. The whole time, and He was working all things according to that plan.  It didn't go like I imagined that it would.  It required that I lay down pride, and expectations, and desires, and my will.  It required that I walk forward when I couldn't see, trusting that He was leading.  It required that I embraced the pain, and walked through it, so that new life could be born from the depth of the groaning.  And it was beautiful. And complete.  Ava is perfect.  All eight pounds of her.  Fleshy and silky, and donning lots of dark hair. (Like her siblings.) From the moment I felt her on my chest, and saw her purply face, and heard her her lusty cry I loved her completely. She was mine, and I was hers and our journey wasn't ending... but just beginning.  

After nearly 14 years of marriage... and four precious children, the journey God has the Larson Family on continues to amaze me.  Brian and I have walked down many paths... Love Is a winding road.... And it strikes fear in the hearts of those who seek control. (This is me.)  His love is perfect, it's complete.  Its a refining fire... It's a train that barrels through the depths of time, and space and delivers us exactly in the center of His will. This labor was a testimony of His love, and His plan in our marriage and our life.... It's a winding road, and a wild ride.... and there's no one on earth I'd rather share it with. 

 Welcome to our crazy family, Ava Grace.  I've never been more uncertain about our future, or more confident than I am in the One who holds the universe in His hands.... He hems us in, and holds us too...

Choosing to see...

We get to pick what we remember….  In every season, even those that are difficult, there are glimpses of hope and glory woven through the fabric of that particular time.  You just have to choose to see it.

This vacation wasn’t what we’d expected.  Or maybe it was…. Maybe my expectations have finally become about a heart perspective and not the circumstances that surround it.  I remember telling Brian that I just wanted to have quality time- with our children, with each other, with my Grandparents, and with my sweet Brother’s family.  “We can’t pick the weather, or the traffic” I said bravely “But we can pick our perspective.”  Choosing perspective is hard sometimes.

Somewhere buried in the depths of the rain, the poison ivy, the mystery stomach illness, lobster sunburns, Fifth’s Disease and vomit I realized that I was going to have to physically shift to change my view.  Like literally move so that my view would be better….  Pictures help.  Photographs don’t lie… They can be modified, altered, edited, but what’s on your camera catches the real deal.

You don’t take pictures of poison ivy rashes, and puke on stuffed animals.  They don’t make for good social media posts.  You capture the things you want to hold on to.  The things you want to remember forever. The moments in time you desperately want to freeze so that they are etched into our reality not bound by time and constant change.  Taking pictures forces you to change your view… maybe it’s why I like photography so much.  And maybe when I get better at focusing on what matters, I’ll be a little better at it.

So, I don’t have pictures of the mountains of vomit laundry, the rashes, the mud puddles, or the ER.  I do kind of wish I’d taken photos of Margaret and me laying under cloths soaked in Apple Cider vinegar (nothing but the best, it came fortified with the Mother!) trying to sooth our enflamed sun scorched skin.  (How in the WORLD did we forget to put sunblock on US? Someone had to care for all of those beautifully tanned babies!)  I’ve got to say though, I think it was a bonding moment, and pic or not, I’m not likely to forget it.  Everywhere we went we brought the aroma of Vinegar with us…. DELICIOUS!

What we did capture in photos was fabulous… and it’s what I’ll remember most about this infamous vacation….  Noah learning to play Uno for the very first time.  Julia driving the tractor that I drove a couple of decades ago, pulling her cousin and siblings in a trailer all around the property.  Hannah frolicking in the sand. Gavin’s superhero strength lifting his own weight on a pulley. Maggie toddling all about lighting up her room with her bright baby blues and toothy drooley grin. Olivia moving about in my belly.... making her presence known to her Daddy and anxious siblings. 

                                       

 Quiet conversations in the early morning with my Grandfather… Listening to some of the same old stories, and hearing some for the first time.  Hearing my Grandma explain how she beat Cancer. Twice.  And Heart Disease. And Sepsis.  “Because God never gives you too much.”  My Grandma has been resurrected from her death bed a whole bunch of times…. And she boils down how she got through it to the truth in the heart of every matter.  “Because God never gives you too much.”

Pondering the mysteries of life and motherhood with Margaret.  The revelation that maybe peace and joy is more than just about “not sweating the small stuff”… Maybe it’s about intentionally focusing on the important stuff.  Choosing to see what matters, and the things that are eternally significant.  Capturing the fleeting moments, quiet and whole.  If that is what captivates- our hearts, our attention, our emotion, our gaze… then all else just seems to fall right where it belongs… in the “Small Stuff” pile.

Perspective is a powerful thing.  It can change the view in front of us... and it can change the memories of your past... I'm learning to learn to focus manually, and not rely on auto focus.  Both in life, and behind my camera's lens...

Just in case you ever have the pleasure of a sickie in the car.  Here are some things you’ll need!

1. Bucket ( old cheap Easter bucket worked for us, but so would a sand pail!)

2. Small garbage bags or up-cycle used plastic grocery bags (is it up-cycling when it’s going to be a puke catcher?)

3. Paper towels or tissues

4. Wet Ones sanitizing wipes

5. Disinfectant spray (Daddies, Do not, I repeat DO NOT, spray your vomiting child.  Or clothes they are currently wearing. This is for non-living surfaces only. )

6. Rubber Gloves

7. Rehydrating fluids

8. Laughter- it goes along way, people.

 If you happen to have the bonus of a toddler with diarrhea:  Pull-ups work wonders, and there’s a rest area every thirty miles on 95.  We visited Every. Flipping. One. (Watch out for the overachieving auto flushing toilets though, they start flushing and spraying right about the time your bending over to pull up the little one’s pull up.  I swear I could feel sick germs assault me as they sprayed through the air.)