Pruning Unlocked

Gardens have themes. Well, really, they’re just giant science experiments each year to figure out what breeds life. In our case, we have wisely chosen to build a garden in a backyard surrounded by very tall trees. The brilliance is so evident, is it not? For this reason, we have done our best to improve that which we can control. Each year, we’ve put more intentionality into our soil. We’ve learned how to physically prop plants up well so they can thrive. Our selection on what we actually do plant has narrowed and become more focused with regionally-specific varieties so we can see success. We’ve added plants to attract pollinators so pollination occurs more frequently.

This year, in addition to layering our soil, a big focus has been pruning. When I think of that word, my thoughts go to cutting away that which is no longer growing well. Maybe the leaves have a disease or have yellowed, or maybe parts of the plant have simply died off. It makes a lot of sense to rid plants of those trouble areas to give them the ability to channel their energy towards what is healthy.

What I have not focused on is the idea of pruning something healthy to promote even more growth and harvest. We’ve never done the best job with thinning out plants once the seedlings start to show. This year, it was painful to pull up tiny, thriving plants in order to leave space for the select few to have the real estate to actually grow legitimate fruit (or in this case, mostly vegetables). But while it was painful, we’ve seen some real results. 

Who knew that tomato plants have different kinds of branches that grow from the main stem? We do now, and we have started cutting the branches off below where fruit is growing to help the plant focus its energy. And guess what? We actually have grown many tomatoes (in the past we were lucky to get a handful).

I learned, recently, with herbs, the more you cut them, the more they will grow and get bushier, provided you know where to cut. I tried it and let me tell you, it works! Pruning in this way has actually paved the way for double the amount of growth to take its place.

Sometimes it requires cutting away something that is actually still good in order to leave room for even greater goodness. 

Not an easy thing. How to decide what is worth keeping and getting rid of? How does one embrace that some good things are temporary and should be let go of before they stop serving us as well as they currently are? 

We need to give ourselves permission to use up some of the good growth and recognize it’s a one time use, but that doesn’t mean the one time isn’t worth it. Pasta sauce with fresh basil (even if the basil was cut from its parent plant to grow no more), is much better than without it. 

I think what I’m learning is how to strategically prune both the good and dying to promote good growth. When and where should I cut the plant? 

In a real world context, sometimes we might be managing something very well, but there’s the feeling it’s not bringing us the life and joy it once did. It’s not draining us, but it’s stunting us and not giving us room to say yes to something else. Or maybe we need to accept a relationship we thought was intended to be evergreen was actually only meant to last one season. We need to cut, or perhaps release, the good thing.

And you know what’s cool about that? Someone else will step into our place, take on our ceiling as their floor, and thus double, triple or even more growth can occur. Space is created for new relationships to occur.

Pruning has multiple applications, not just cutting that which is dying. We have the invitation to say yes to both kinds of pruning, in our gardens, but also in our lives. Easier said than done.

So, where in your world do you sense the invitation to let go of something good to leave space for more growth to occur? Where do you see the Lord showing you something that He intended to be an annual, but are holding onto as if it were meant to be perennial? Is there anything taking energy from your ability to produce truly good fruit for His Kingdom?

Tough questions folks, but the pruning is worth it.

Shep’s Breastfeeding Journey

8/26/22 - 11/3/23

Shep and I had our last breastfeeding moment together nearly two months ago.

I had been intending to conclude sooner than we did, but it took him some time to embrace the bottle. Though time has passed, I couldn’t let this change go by unacknowledged.

Normally, I have a lot of mental buildup to moments like this. It helps me to name the day of a big transition to mentally prepare, and I’d been trying to figure out when. That morning, things were calm, and I decided it was the end.

We lasted a little over 14 months, roughly 3 of which I was pregnant. Wild. Our season looked different. Shep was a much faster eater, so much so I worried he wasn’t getting enough at the beginning. We even got down to just one side at a time for a stretch.

For memory’s sake, here are some stats and notes:

  • His first ever feed was from a tube in the transition nursery because his breathing was quite fast when he was first born.

  • I had to cut dairy and caffeine at the beginning. Shep was VERY sensitive to any dairy I ate.

  • My letdown was very intense at the beginning, almost painfully so, and I think I was overproducing so he got blasted at first.

  • The intense let down led to trying different positions. Since I didn’t have a c-section, the football hold wasn’t as necessary. A new one I tried that we used quite a lot was lying down. So snuggly.

  • One memorable feed at small group featured about four kids standing around watching me and discussing the reality of breastfeeding. Quite the audience.

  • Hilariously, I got walked in on twice by two different guys on a Sunday morning because the nursing room also serves as a storage room. Suffice it to say, a lock was installed that week, and I wasn’t troubled but found it funny and felt bad for the guys.

  • Places - church service, while he was in a carrier on Ronny, sitting in the dirt leaning against a barn at Jaemor, by a food truck at the Chicken Festival, a Pennsylvanian Barnes and Noble sunny windowsill, the food tent of a Christmas market (Christmindlmarkt), the floor of a bathroom of one of the old houses during Christmas on Green Street, a Christmas tree farm, at the Georgia aquarium, and many others.

  • Modes of transportation ranged from sedentary with a bed and chair, to slightly more movement in a rocking chair, to him in his car seat, a plane, and a boat.

  • Surprisingly, the afternoon feeding, rather than middle of the night (which is so lovely and quiet) ended up being my favorite this time.

  • There was no biting incident and resulting intense fellowship this time, largely because his first teeth came in so late.

  • I didn’t pump as frequently so he did not get a bottle as much this time, though I did pump during a Sunday morning worship team rehearsal. With Bood, Ronny often took the first morning feeding so I could capitalize on building up an excess supply in the freezer, but that didn’t happen as often with our current season of life.

  • As a result, Shep was not into whole milk/bottles at first as I weened him so I took longer to drop the final morning him than planned. It was honestly pretty stressful because I was pregnant and ready for a break.

  • With the final feed before he went to bed, Bood would often fall asleep and we’d snuggle for a while. Shep was not that way. When he was done, he was ready for his crib, though we had more snuggly naps in the first few weeks after he was born.

Breastfeeding is such a unique time. It’s a deep connection that I’m grateful I’ve been able to have with both my boys.

Love you, Tiny Shep.

Shep's Birth Story

Shepherd Meyer Wilson was born via VBAC (vaginal birth after cesarean) on August 26, 2022 at 7:24am, and I am so proud and grateful.


There is much to be said about the preparation that led up to his birth which will be coming in a future post. For now, I simply want to tell the story of how our little man went from being in the world of the womb to the world in our arms. It’s amazing to me that the Lord has given me the privilege of living and telling the story of the birth of two of His children. Incredible. For this one, I’ll go ahead and warn you it was not a quick process and spanned across several days, so settle on in for a while.


Tuesday, August 23rd


It’s funny that it all began on this day because originally, my mom and our doula, Jess, were going to be out of town the weekend prior and both returning by the evening of August 22nd.  While neither of them ended up going out of town just in case, it was as if my body knew this was an important day, despite the due date being August 31st/September 1st, and all systems were a go!


7:30am I woke up feeling some cramps. I didn’t think too much of it until I realized they were a bit prolonged and kept returning. It was enough that I voiced to Ronny I might be having contractions.


Sure enough, as the day wore on, the contractions were still spaced quite far apart but enough that I would have to walk around and breathe through them. By early evening, I had to leave the room to focus. That night, I tried to sleep, but it was rough going. I kept waking up and needing to stand to walk around. I’d have some reprieve, maybe 30 minutes or an hour, but overall, it was a very disjointed night.


Wednesday, August 24th


5:00am(ish) At some point in the early morning, I gave up the pretense of attempting to sleep and got up. We had moved our bedroom down to our basement, and it turned out to be the perfect space to labor in peace. Very quiet, calm, dark. Having it be a stormy morning was helpful too. I walked around, focused on practicing breathing through contractions (I’m grateful that they do not just turn on full strength…your body gives you time to get used to them). I was timing them, and they were gradually getting closer together, consistently eight to ten minutes apart, and then eventually down to about five minutes. I ate some toast and fruit. 


12:00-3:30pm We were in communication with our doula, who suggested I try using my breast pumps to get my body to produce some oxytocin. Goodness, the contractions ramped up to about three minutes apart, so I’d say that was effective. Ronny did an excellent job of giving me time to myself (my preference at this point) and checking in periodically. This was around lunchtime. At that point, I thought, OK, maybe we’re moving into the next phase, but when I stopped the breast pumps, things slowed down again. Jess popped by our house to help walk us through the Lavonne Circuit, which is a series of positions that help get the baby into position to encourage labor to progress more rapidly. 


As the day wore on, I was still managing contractions, but not to the point where it felt like time to go to the hospital. My midwife had encouraged me to labor at home as long as I felt comfortable, knowing that when I arrived at the hospital, I would have to wear a fetal monitor for the duration. She essentially said, “I’m good if you end up making it to the hospital with just enough time before the baby comes.” Given that those monitors can be confining, and honestly, just annoying, I was eager to limit being strapped to one. I had loosely decided to go natural for this birth because I wanted to give my body the greatest chance to do what it needed and was designed to do. I remember voicing this plan to Ronny, and he was unsurprised and very supportive.


6:00pm Around dinnertime, Jess texted the suggestion we go do some curb walking (one foot steps on the curb, the other on the pavement to help create more space in the pelvis). We (Ronny, my mom, Liam Bood, and myself) went to the park near our home, and Bood even did some curb walking with me around the play structure. Things were not ramping up, so Jess recommended I tuck in for the night and try to sleep.


I felt pretty discouraged by that prospect considering I had a pretty miserable night before, so she recommended I take Benadryl (after having me double-check to make sure that was on the list of acceptable medicines for pregnancy). 


Welp, Benadryl did not prove to be of much help. I think I logged around two to two and half hours of sleep if that.


Thursday, August 25th 


4:30am After utilizing the bath for a reprieve (water is the best and I did this several times at home), and finally being unable to lay flat comfortably, Ronny was up with me because the intensity of the contractions had increased significantly. When they say you won’t have to wonder about contractions, or if you’re solidly in labor, they mean it. These contractions felt like they had two peaks and were very intense around my back. I had to squat and breathe and low hum. I was holding a comb pretty consistently by that point as well. For those that don’t know, the pressure of the comb teeth in your palm can help distract your brain from the contractions so they feel less intense.


Around this time, Ronny was encouraging me to do another circuit and my mental space was getting a little shakier. It’s hard looking back on how long you’ve been working and knowing that any steps you take forward will only make things more intense. With birth, it must get worse before it gets better. His thought was, “Let’s make it happen because you’ve been at this a while and are starting to get drained.”


5:15-8:00am  We did a circuit which, surprisingly, let me sleep a little while (30 minutes). We texted Jess to let her know where things were. Knowing I might need a bit of confirmation that things were progressing, she suggested we go to the doctor’s office to have me checked. That felt like a very helpful step because it had been 48 hours, and while I was still calm, it was hard to remain hopeful without a good night of sleep twice in a row.


8:00-10:00am I called about coming in to get checked and the person on the line said I couldn’t get in until 1pm. That was just not going to work for me so she eventually said I could come in around 11. I felt like once we left home, we wouldn’t be returning, so Ronny and I packed everything up. It was rainy. My mom and Bood were hanging out and helped us get situated. Finally, we were on our way. Jess later remarked that it took us forever to actually get to the doctor’s office…lol true. We were taking our time and preparing to be gone. It took Ronny a little while to realize that I wasn’t planning on coming home after the doctor’s office because I was more focused on contractions than communication. Again, lol.


Standing was the only way I was ever really comfortable. Contractions while sitting down were the worst, and I had several on the drive over. People talk about how sitting on the toilet can give some reprieve, but I found it to be the opposite. As soon as I would sit down, I would start a contraction. Given my short torso, I think the lack of real estate made things squeeze faster. My biggest concern about going somewhere in public was the vulnerability of experiencing these much more intense contractions in front of other people. I am much more private by nature (who is surprised?). 


11:00am We arrived at the doctor’s office, and I was able to sit and wait in an area that was more hidden. There was a bathroom nearby that I went into with my comb to work through contractions in private. We ended up waiting for an hour before being seen, and the contractions slowed down. I’ve heard this happens when you change environments because adrenaline kicks in which works against allowing your body to relax.


On my way back to a patient room, I had a contraction that made me stop in the hallway and the women who were walking with me were sympathetic. The midwife came in, checked me, and said I was at five centimeters and 100 percent effaced.


“Girl, you’re in labor!” was her remark.


She also told me we could go to the hospital. While it might sound silly, I wasn’t sure I was quite ready to be in that environment, and knowing this, the midwife said she wanted me to hook up to a fetal monitor for a while to check to make sure Shep was OK.


Sitting in that chair, hooked up, unable to stand up during contractions was the opposite of enjoyable. The sensors were not great and after the midwife said she thought Shep was having dcells, we sent a picture to Jess (who is a labor and delivery nurse) for confirmation. She disagreed about the dcells and we honestly did too because it was clear the sensors weren’t working well and didn’t even pick up all the contractions I had.


We left the office, and I felt like it was time for the next stage. The thought of returning to the basement to continue managing contractions felt overwhelming to me, so we decided to get lunch before checking in at the hospital. I wanted to eat as much as I could before being limited to clear liquids. We also told Jess we were heading to the hospital, and she planned to meet us.


1:30pm Jimmy John’s sounded good, so we stopped there and ate. It was a surreal experience to be in a public space where no one knew I was in labor. Sort of like, “Hello, yes, I’ll have a beach club, and a side of active labor please, except my contractions have slowed down because I am out of my original labor environment which is apparently a thing. And oh by the way, can you add some extra oregano to that? Thanks.” I felt outside of space and time and weirdly detached. The sandwich and chips were helpful, and then it was time.


Parking in a full lot at the hospital was the exact opposite of the experience we had with Liam’s birth which happened roughly three weeks after the world shut down with COVID. What do you mean we have to share the lot with other humans as opposed to the ghost town of our last experience? We gathered our belongings (and by we I mean Ronny), and we headed in to get registered and checked in. I was still having contractions occasionally but the change in environment definitely caused things to slow down. 


It brought me a lot of peace to know I would be setting up camp in the hospital room, but one of my biggest concerns when entering a new space, especially when I’m in a more stressful state like labor, is the new sounds I might encounter. If you know me, you know this is a real issue. So one of my first moves was to get the ticking clock off the wall. There was a vent fan that was making a pretty irritating noise because it was jammed. I tried to shrug it off and just be fine with it, but after about an hour of being there, Ronny, BLESS HIM, climbed up on a stool and got it turned off.


I could feel my blood pressure relaxing back to normal instantly. 


Jess had arrived prior to the fan fix, and we realized we had forgotten batteries for our twinkle lights. This was one of the big things I wanted to use to help create a softer environment. Get those fluorescents off and bring on the twinkle lights! Jess’ husband, Corey, very kindly brought some to the hospital.


Corey, if you read this, you were an MVP. So many staff members commented on how cozy our room was with those lights. It made such a big difference for me. Thank you!


4:30pm(ish) Not long after we got settled, IV was in, fetal monitor on, hospital gown blowing about in the breeze, etc etc, the midwife came in to do a cervical check. Before even checking me she mentioned how I might just be able to go home.


I’m not kidding when I say it was more painful than any of the contractions I experienced, and definitely far worse than the one in the office. I half-expected her fingers to come out my mouth if you catch my drift.


She said I was still at six-ish centimeters, which is roughly where I had been when I was at the office. Her response was to very quickly tell me that I could go home if I wanted to, stay for a few more hours to see if I progressed, have my water broken, start Pitocin, or I could just have a C-section. 


Um. No. And interestingly, she was the same midwife I had for Liam’s birth which ultimately ended up being a C-section, but that’s a conversation for another time. 


Worth noting: there was a midwife, Beverly, in the practice I’d seen who I specifically asked if she would be willing to come in to help deliver Shep, even if she wasn’t on call. She had agreed and was waiting on standby during most of labor.


Also important, I was dead set on not having my water broken. In the birth class we took, which included a large staff of midwives, doulas, and a nurse, we were told there is no medical reason to break your water. Yes, it can speed up labor, but it can also cause the baby to get in a bad position and lose its cushion for making its way into the birth canal. After the midwife left the room, our nurse quietly discouraged me from having my water broken.


6:30pm(ish) We did some circuits which allowed me to fall asleep for about 15 minutes again. During that time, there was a shift change and in entered Hailey. The absolute gem of a nurse. I feel like I could write an entire blog post about her alone. She introduced herself as the nurse they usually assigned to natural cases. Since I was going unmedicated either the entire time or for as long as possible, I fell within that grouping. She was so quick to begin explaining things in a relatable way and SHE WAS JUST THE BEST. This quality mattered because the midwife eventually came back and after another painful check with no progress, said basically I either needed to leave, have my water broken, get Pitocin, or have a C-section. She said the fact that I hadn’t progressed and was able to sleep at all led her to believe I wasn’t in labor. To be honest, it felt like she didn’t believe me when I retold my experience of the previous 48 hours, at least not the intensity of contractions I’d been experiencing. I felt the undertones of her thinking I was exaggerating what had been going on. She said some women can deal with prodromal labor for weeks before birth. When I expressed I had not been able to sleep, again, she looked skeptical and asked what I’d tried. It was very offputting given I knew what had occurred with my body, and the fact that six centimeters is considered active labor. 


I cannot express how much that took the wind out of my mental game sails. 


I tried to sit down to think, but every time I did it brought on a contraction. I’d more or less been on my feet for 48 hours with small breaks. The midwife mentioned I should try and rest and relax, even noting I’d been standing most of the time she’d been in the room, but being anything but vertical was the worst. 


Jess and others had told us that if any intervention or big suggestion was made that we could ask for time to talk about it alone for at least 30 minutes. If whatever was going on was urgent, we wouldn’t be given the time and that would be an indicator that there was an issue. It was a helpful litmus test. As it turns out, they left us alone for at least an hour and a half. 


Again, after the midwife left, the nurses discouraged me from having my water broken.


Anyone else sensing a theme here?


I was brought to face one of the bigger fears I had with deeply desiring a VBAC: any type of intervention, especially Pitocin, would automatically turn the birth into a C-section. That was a lie that I had somehow grabbed onto. Ronny felt similarly to me, knowing how much I wanted to experience a vaginal birth.


Brief doula shoutout: Jess was invaluable in this conversation space. She tried multiple times to give Ronny and I the opportunity to speak alone, which was incredible of her, but we both needed a third person to help us talk it through. We might have taken a few minutes to ourselves, but what I remember is how both of us felt such a sense of support and comfort in having her as a sounding board. I still cannot believe how long the hospital staff left us alone to talk. Doulas are on your team and stay with you, and that is huge!


Eventually, rather reluctantly, because I knew it would make contractions worse, I agreed to get Pitocin. I knew that I didn’t want to look back and wish I’d done something to help my body get Shep out on mostly its own terms. 


8:00pm There is no question that the Pitocin ramped things up. Contractions got to every two minutes. I needed some coaching for breathing through and alternated positions with leaning back into Ronny while standing or on the birthing ball with Jess pressing on my hips. I also took a shower, or rather, sat in a chair and Ronny sprayed me with warm water which felt AMAZING. I couldn’t take a bath at that point with the fetal monitor in the picture. 


9:00pm We and a group of friends were invested in Big Brother. An episode came on at 9pm. While the sound of the episode was slightly irritating, at some point, my brain decided it was a goal: I would go until the end of the episode with Pitocin before getting an epidural. 


It had been 62 hours since I first felt the initial cramp contractions mixed with two nights of barely any sleep. I felt I had done all that I could without a real rest. It was time for some sleep. Hailey returned, and I told her I wanted an epidural. I could tell she was slightly surprised, as were Jess and Ronny since I had made the decision internally. I was a little surprised myself given the association of any intervention being a bad thing. It was helpful to realize that this is not always true. In fact, the Pitocin was eventually turned off because my body was contracting just fine and consistently on its own. Wohoo!


10:30/11:00pm Ronny, being only a few months away from entering his nursing school program, really wanted to witness the epidural, but they intentionally do not let the birth partners witness it in case someone, ahem, the dad, becomes lightheaded. Staying still during contractions with the needle - not enjoyable or easy. The nurse anesthetist was great, explained her approach (give me the lowest amount that made sense and planned increase if need be), got the drugs in, and departed. 


I settled down in bed, and slowly, the numbness kicked in. Bliss. Also during that time, I asked Hailey to redo the IV placement (at least I think it was after the epidural…at any rate, I made this request at some point). It was uncomfortable, in a bad spot, and kept bothering me. When it was first put in, I had asked about a different location, but they wanted to try that one. Ugh.


One thing I remembered having highlighted about myself during this process is that I’m not great at allowing myself to just ask for and need things. And let’s be honest, if ever there was a time when my needs, desires, and whatever else were a top priority, it was during labor! I felt bad inconveniencing her by having her redo someone else’s IV. It was the right decision because I was much more comfortable afterward.


August 26th


1:00am Well, the glorious sleep I was hoping for didn’t come. My blood pressure dropped to 70/30. Whenever there was an issue, a doorbell alarm would sound. Ronny and I had both been trying to sleep, but between the wacky blood pressure, and the blood pressure cuff permanently affixed to my arm now checking every five minutes or whatever it was, sleep was rather elusive.


2:00-3:00am Eventually, I started to feel a nagging pain in my left side. I told Jess (Ronny was trying to get some sleep) and she helped me shift into another position, but it became clear that the epidural wasn’t really working. At least not entirely. The nurse anesthetist came back for adjustments, and by that time, I was back holding my comb again and having to concentrate through each contraction with the added deficit of not being able to walk around. I remember Jess saying I’d need to utilize my coping techniques again, and thank goodness I had them! 


I got another reprieve for a little while.


4/4:30ish Hailey suggested we try pushing around 5/5:30. The midwife came in to check me, and during the exam, again asked if I wanted my water broken. It was frustrating since I had continued to be so adamant that I did not want it. I had made it to ten centimeters and was “laboring down” (just because you hit ten centimeters does not automatically mean your body is ready to push…it often needs time to just sit and prepare) with faint feelings of needing to poop, which is evidently the sign of needing to push. 


5:30am It was a mixed deal to have “coached” pushing. I say that loosely because while Hailey, Ronny, and Jess were all encouraging me and watching the monitor for contraction peaks, a lot of the pushing was led by me. The epidural was definitely wearing off again, so I was in need of something productive to do but wasn’t feeling any kind of distinct urge to push. In the beginning, I felt really frustrated, as if my brain and body had cut ties. I know I had an epidural, but I was feeling enough that it felt like the connection should have happened sooner. I’m sure some of it was that this was the point I got to with Liam before ultimately having a C-section. With his birth, I was told I was a good pusher. I felt wildly incompetent this time around at the beginning with Shep. 


We got a mirror, and being goal-oriented, this helped. Jess and Ronny each had a leg that they would lift and set back down. I could feel Shep’s feet up in my left ribs, using them as a pushing off point. It was clear throughout the labor that Shep was having a hard time getting into an optimal position which explains why I felt like my contractions had two peaks. Jess (and countless others) was praying throughout which was a comfort. 


Eventually, the amniotic sac became visible. It looked like disgusting goo, or the troll boogers in Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. It was unclear whether it was just more mucus plug that needed to separate or whether Shep was still contained within the sac. 


Less epidural, more pushing. I distinctly remember hearing Jess say, “Push away the pain.” It helped because I was feeling angry that the epidural wasn’t working fully. I pushed an extra time beyond when they said I could stop if I wanted a break. Again, I cannot express how helpful it was to have something to do during the contractions. The longer I was in the pushing phase, the more uncomfortable it became when Jess and Ronny would lay my legs down to rest, particularly my left leg which was the one Ronny was holding. Strange, but I remember that and it was probably because of Shep’s position.


6:30am As time wore on, it looked like I was laying an egg. There’s no other way to describe it. Hailey started being a lot more active. It was around 7am which was another shift change. She stayed past her shift to be there for Shep’s birth which meant so much. The midwife we’d had was prepared to head home, and the one coming in had gotten stuck in a ditch. Also, the midwife I originally wanted, Beverly, was unable to come in due to a family emergency (her son hit his head with a baseball bat…yeah OK, Beverly, totally understandable you couldn’t come in!). Something was in the air for the midwives.


Hailey called our original midwife to come back because it was clear Shep was coming. I remember feeling like it did not seem clear at all. Like I had made very little pushing progress so what was all the excitement for? Far from feeling excited, I felt highly discouraged by what felt like a lack of progress. Jess began reminding me to look in the mirror because I had started closing my eyes during pushes.


7:00am Well, after about 30 minutes, the egg became MUCH larger and it was clear Shep was inside the amniotic sac too. The midwife had arrived and the staff members were all excited because an en caul birth, one where the amniotic sac is still intact, is rare (which makes sense since so many women have their water broken). I found it a bit annoying that the midwife who had asked so many times about breaking my water was so excited about the prospect of seeing a baby come out in the sac. Can you tell she wasn’t my favorite?


I digress, but you remember what you remember. It was also a bit overwhelming to have gone from Ronny, Jess, and Hailey as the only people in the room to what felt like roughly ten.


7:15am The Shep’s head egg was at nearly its full point, and I rested, waiting for the next several contractions, and then, pushed, and out his head came, and I felt his body come quickly after. I remember thinking I’d have to wait longer for his body.


7:24am 8 pounds, 4.5 ounces, 21.5 inches long and Shep was here! I was SHOCKED. I was holding him, and I had done it. I had successfully had a VBAC! There was a small window of time to have tears of joy and pride come. I could hear Ronny had tears and was almost more focused on how proud he was of me than seeing Shep. I felt the placenta be born, which turned out to be HUGE, by the way, and then, there was pain and a high level of activity from the medical staff. 


From what I understood, which most of this knowledge came after the fact, I lost about 300 CCs of blood and had a second-degree tear. I was still somewhat numb, but definitely not entirely from the epidural, so when the stitching was happening, I had more awareness than I would have liked to. I remember Jess telling me to say something and when it became clear that I was disconnecting from everything, she told them I could feel things.  Somewhere in that time, Ronny cut the cord too.


Also during that time, Shep’s breathing was really fast. I had still been holding onto him and was very consciously trying to be gentle while I was in pain (strange how you can navigate contractions, but pain after the baby is out is just different, plus, by that point, it had been 72 hours), and eventually they took him to make sure all was well. Between his crying, the double amount of staff in the room because of the shift change, and the pain, I disassociated and kept my eyes closed. I couldn’t get myself to stop crying. It all just felt like too much. Ronny was between Shep and me. Jess was helpfully explaining to me what was going on in my ear, and she eventually asked me what was wrong, and I said the words, “It’s just too much.”


I was worn out. I had done it but felt like the moment had been stolen, at least in part, with the aftermath. 


Eventually, when I was fixed up, they brought Shep over to me. He had been crying and almost as soon as they set him on my chest, he calmed down. 


It was amazing…the skin-to-skin. 


It was one of the things I’d missed out on with Liam because of the C-section, and because I didn’t know what to ask for so it was a priority for me this time around. Ronny actually got to hold Liam first. 


Shep and I sat there for a while. Jess left us to have some time and for her to go get some sleep. The staff told me not to nurse him because of his breathing and that he would need to go to the transition nursery for a few hours until his breaths slowed. 


9:30/9:45am The stork nurse (what an excellent name), came to take him to the transition nursery and the source of his first feed got brought up. I said I could pump, but they got him settled and asked if it was OK to give him formula for the first one. Since I wasn’t going to have time to pump, I reconciled it was OK for his first feeding to not be from me.


10:00am This ultimately ended up being a really helpful thing because I was moved to a mother and baby room and, almost instantly, slept for two hours. Before arriving in the room, we saw Beverly in the hallway. She had specifically come to check on us and did later on as well, and explained the reason for her absence. Again, lady, we get it! Ronny went to visit Shep during that. My cousin Brad, who had recently joined the trauma surgical team at the hospital, was our first visitor, though he didn’t get to meet Shep because only parents were allowed in the transition nursery. 


It’s funny, I feel like I should have felt more worried or scared or something about Shep being in the transition nursery, but mostly, I was so appreciative of the sleep.


I was also amazed and thrilled about the post-vaginal birth experience versus the post-C-section experience. I joked by saying, “Did I even give birth by comparison?” I mean, I was up walking around almost immediately! What a dream!


Eventually, it was time to go see him. The transition nursery was so amazingly quiet, and peaceful, with a gentle fan blowing somewhere. Poor, tiny Shep had marks on his face from where the tape held the feeding tube in place. 


We got nursing figured out quickly, and he was able to come back to our room with us. We ended up staying two more nights in the hospital for recovery. It was so strange and wonderful to have visitors. My mom, Steph, and Bood visited that first night. It was wild to see how huge Bood looked after having been staring at Shep so long. Courtney and Ana came to visit, as did Drew. We ended up having one of the same night nurses that we’d had with Liam, and again, people loved how good the room smelled with our diffuser and how cozy it was with the twinkle lights. 


Our baby boy number two was here! It was incredibly empowering to be among a very small percentage, something like 14 percent, of successful VBACs. I’m grateful I got to have both experiences.


Tiny Shephered Meyer Wilson, what a gift and effort and labor of love it was to bring you into this world.

Changers Worshiping the Unchanging

Humans are changers.

From the moment we are conceived, we begin changing. Our cells multiply, we grow, and eventually, leave our mother’s womb to enter the world. 

For the rest of our lives, we continue to change. Some changes are apparent, like development milestones or the greying of hair, while others happen internally. 

Regardless, we are changers living in a world of constant changes.

In contrast, it’s often preached how the Lord is unchanging. 

Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever.

Hebrews 13:8

I’ve heard this said over the years, but it really hit home for me recently. Maybe it’s because I’m anticipating the birth of our second son which is a huge change, as is pregnancy, or the fact that we’re determining when to potty train our two-year-old or that we are figuring out the bedroom situation in our home. Life is full of changes right now.

In case you were wondering, I would not consider change to be one of my best buddies or favorite things. I know we cannot experience new and wonderful things without change. Change is an inevitable part of the human experience. Yes, yes, I know, I know.

I still do not like it. Granted, often what happens for me is that the anticipation of the big change is harder than the change itself. It often feels consuming and overwhelming.

Perhaps that’s why the sentiment of Hebrews 13:8 has been so profound.

The Lord is of the Spirit, not of the world. He is the opposite of all things worldly, so if change is of the world, how fitting He would be unchanging. Also, how very comforting!

So, to bring us back to a familiar message, how fortunate we, the changers, are to be able to worship and trust the Unchanging God. 

May you be refreshed by hearing this again, or perhaps for the first time. I certainly have been.

The Work of Being Freshly Planted

Gardening is both fun and hard work. Our corn is coming in, which for some reason, is the most entertaining to me. At least one of everything we’ve planted is visible above the surface, or more specifically, the plant of each type. We’ve not yet reached the harvest season.

Last year, we built a raised bed, and this year, we expanded to add another piece of the yard that we hoed and did our best to prepare before planting. While we anticipated this, it’s very clear that the new bed is not yet fully cultivated. The battle between weeds and intentional plants is underway, and we shall see which wins out in the end.

It reminded me of the Parable of the Sower in Mark 4 where seeds are planted in all kinds of places, but only the good soil allows the seeds to take root and thrive. 

Freshly planted seeds and plants are more susceptible to losing the battle with weeds. They have not yet had a chance to get established and grow deep roots, which makes them more vulnerable. As a result, these plants require more work, protection, and consistent oversight.

The same is true of new believers.

When someone accepts Christ, they have made the greatest decision they will ever make, but they also become a target for the enemy. That is why community and discipleship is so important. We always need these things, but especially so when we are baby Christians, growing our roots into God’s Word, and getting established. We need more experienced believers to work with us, protect us, and watch over us in our early days to help us say yes to the Spirit and no to the world. We need someone to do the work of guiding us through the freshly planted season.

Plants and believers, gardens and the kingdom. They’re really not so different.

So, do you have community and discipleship in your world?

Cultivate

While I have become known for my love and appreciation of plants, this was not always part of my reality. I used to get no pleasure out of seeing a houseplant and the one succulent I had in my care was accidentally knocked off a windowsill….multiple times if my memory serves me correctly.

Since getting engaged, something shifted. I’ve wondered if the symbolism of my engagement ring diamonds being arranged like a flower (this was a surprise) was the catalyst to my being inclined toward my leafy friends. 

Regardless, being an enthusiast and student of plants has shaped my life in ways ranging from new connections to the Creator to the abundance of lessons I’ve gleaned over the past five years.

This year marks the first year of being a true gardener. We have gone through the process of growing seedlings indoors, transferring them outside, preparing soil at length, and planting seeds directly in the ground. 

Cultivate.

That’s the word I’ve had in my mind and feel the Lord has given me in this season. Liam, our two-year-old, has even been part of the process. He put a number of seeds in the ground as we planted and helped with a few seedlings. It’s brought me tremendous joy (and yes, the occasional degree of exasperation that comes with the hazard of a toddler around fragile plants) to have him be part of the process.

Cultivate.

As I look forward to seeing how the garden changes from day to day, I’m also working on cultivating a little life in my womb. At 25 weeks, it’s a delight to be experiencing growth within my own body paralleled with the plant life in our yard.

Cultivate.

I’ve been acquiring, writing, listing, remembering, and savoring plant lessons for years. While I’ve had intentions of putting those thoughts into a more compact package meant to share with others, it’s become clear to me that a missing link was the garden. Having a season of really toiling and cultivating a garden will round out some of my horticultural experience that has been lacking.

I look forward to seeing how this shapes my interaction with plants. Growing the garden with my little family (which is also growing!) is so gratifying, especially when my little garden helper sprays himself with the hose while wearing a bucket hat.

Here’s to a season devoted to the word cultivate.

Goat Walks

Just a short walk from our home is a pasture filled with an impressive herd of goats.


Not long after we moved in, “goat walks” became a consistent pastime, particularly after Liam was born. We’d say, “Let’s go for a goat walk!” just to get outside for a bit.


It became a delightful rhythm, one which Liam now recognizes with high degrees of enthusiasm, especially because he usually gets to ride on Daddy’s shoulders to get to the goats.


This spring, we’ve seen a number of new baby goats added to the mix, including what we think was a set of twins. There’s a billy goat that is clearly the alpha but sort of makes me think of a crotchety old man. Many of the kids stand in the feeding buckets or expend their energy frolicking around. 


Sometimes they’ll respond to our sorry attempts at mimicking their “maaaaaaaaa.” Liam even tries now. 


What a funny, wonderful, and unexpected rhythm we’ve fallen into as our little family. We’ve had others join us on these walks on occasion, but it’s usually just our three.


I love it. I love the fact that we can go watch the goats at length (provided they’re near the fence where we can actually see them as opposed to across the field). I love that it gets us outside. I love that Liam gets so excited. I love the fact that one of the neighboring homeowners knows to ask if we went to see the goats. I love that the goat owners enjoy our viewings and have even given us bread for Liam to feed the goats.


There’s not necessarily anything deeply spiritual about this other than it puts us in a simpler moment, one free of to-do lists and technology, and places us in front of some of the most hilariously unintelligent creatures on a regular basis.


Do you have anything like this in your life?

Hosta Resurgence

Our yard is thriving right now. All the bushes are at their flowering best and everything’s turning that delicious bright green that promises new growth and life. 


Among these visual delights are also the return of things like crocuses, daffodils, and hostas. 


It is hostas that have captured my particular attention recently. 


There is something hearty and sturdy about them. They’re nothing if not resilient because they completely disappear over winter and emerge once again in spring. Many plants do the same thing, but hostas really make you believe they will never show up again. Once they do, however, they do so exceptionally rapidly, it’s a wonder to see how things change even from one day to the next. 


Nature and the world revolve around seasons. Some seasons leave one wishing to be able to keep things exactly as they are, whereas others provide a sense of relief to shed unwanted burdens. 


It seems more focus is left to what we want to part with rather than what we hope to keep.


Hostas are a reminder that some things are worth keeping, and just like a once favorite song, they may not be seen constantly, but when they re-emerge, it’s a lovely example that there are indeed things worth keeping. (This feels reminiscent of how so many of our generation can break into a coordinated dance at the first few notes of the song “Bye Bye Bye”...a worthy keepsake.)


Sometimes we all need to be reminded of the hopes, dreams, and lessons that have been dormant, only to be brought back to the surface by some natural rhythms. 


Resurgence can be defined as “an increase or revival after a period of little activity, popularity, or occurrence.”


Hostas, in particular, are an excellent reminder of what resurgence looks like.


The hosta resurgence. 


An example worth following and a reminder worth having.

Called to the Creator

God is creative.


He’s also kind, compassionate, and sovereign. 


He’s so many things and remarkably, He chose to create us. 


I think this is why I find myself feeling more aware of His presence and more connected to Him when I’m in nature. It’s as if the created status in me connects with that which has also been created to draw me closer to my Creator. 


Even more extraordinary, He made us to be able to create and participate within His creation. Perhaps this is why I have such an affinity with plants. I have no real control or ability to claim I made a plant grow or created the plant. Sure, I can provide the ideal settings, seed depth, frequency of watering, and necessary light, in other words, participate, but in the end, I cannot make the seed sprout to reveal and create a plant. I participate in and trust in the Creator to help the plant grow.


In all of these musing, it’s been a particular joy to begin planting the seeds of a garden this spring. I started with 72 pods and after two days of planting, was able to see some growth. It brought me an insane amount of gratification and joy. Even a matter of hours yielded new growth over these past few weeks. 


Creation calls to the created to reconnect with the Creator. 


I do not know what that looks like for you, but when I listen and yield to that calling, He is there waiting on the other end.

To the Soil Tender

Do you ever rediscover songs you used to listen to and feel like you’re hearing them for the first time again?


Almost two years ago, around the time our son, Liam, was born and the world was in quarantine, a friend of ours sent the song “Springtime” by Chris Renzema as an encouragement (thanks Jessy!).


I listened to it on repeat. Given I was breastfeeding at the time, let’s just say I had plenty of time for the message to sink in on a deep level.


For some reason, two years later, it’s come back to my awareness and resonates on such a profound level.


Something about this winter made me feel like my brain was hibernating. As different flowers and plants have bloomed, it seems like my brain is receiving them as a signal, an alarm clock, to wake back up and rejoin the land of the living. I truly feel like I’m coming out of a bit of a fog and the combination of new life in the plants and sunshine has really been working for me. 


So has “Springtime.”


We will sing a new song

'Cause death is dead and gone with the winter

We will sing a new song

Let "hallelujahs" flow like a river

We're coming back to life

Reaching towards the light

Your love is like springtime

Like springtime


Come tend the soil

Come tend the soil of my soul

And like a garden 

And like a garden I will grow

I will grow

I will grow

I will grow

Come tend the soil

Come tend the soil of my soul

And like a garden 

And like a garden I will grow

I will grow

I will grow

I will grow


I’m honestly not sure why I forget how much I like spring. If you asked me right now, biased though the circumstances are, I would absolutely say it’s my favorite. It’s just so darn hopeful, and let’s not forget about the abundance of plants!


Perhaps that is why the lyrics have felt impactful. They’ve put language to something I’ve been reminded of lately. Springtime this year has felt like a waking back up to life, or perhaps, waking up to a brand new season. His love is the same way. The revelation of Jesus and His death on the cross, when understood and accepted, truly is like waking up to something new. 


Your love is like springtime, indeed.


I feel something new brewing. I have some guesses, but really, I’m just expectant. The Lord seems to be moving and shifting some things within me, so I look forward to seeing the seeds that are planted.


To the soil tender, I’m ready.

Fruit's Truth

Christian circles frequently talk about fruit. What kind of fruit are those choices producing in your life? What’s the fruit you’re seeing? 


Many questions can be asked, but the point is, we place a high value on fruit. In fact, I think we can place too much value on the fruit itself and not enough on what it represents. 


Our church is reading Romans 1-7 for You in our small groups (or as we call them, Gospel Communities). One line I read recently related to this concept and sparked this line of thinking:


“...the apples on an apple tree prove life, but they don’t provide it.”


In other words, if something is producing fruit, the fruit it produces is not life-sustaining. 


There needs to be another source.


What is being poured into that tree, or person, that is causing such fruit to be produced? 


Fruit is an indicator, a manifestation of something deeper going on, but it’s not the main thing. 


So all this to say, fruit gives us data on the qualify of life a plant, or person has. If something has died, it certainly will not be producing more fruit so the presence of fruit is proof life still exists. 


We just need to give appropriate weight to the fruit and not have it be valued more than the life source. For believers, much like Galatians 5 discusses, we know when the fruit in their lives shows proof of a life connected to the ultimate source, Jesus.


Fruit provides proof of life but does not actually give life to its source. Fruit gives life to others so let’s be sure the fruit we’re producing is life-giving by focusing on our connection to our Heavenly Father. 


That’s the fruit’s truth.

Calm Will Come

I’ve always been a water person. Growing up in Michigan predisposes a person to that with large bodies of water so accessible.


Being near water makes me feel like I can breathe more deeply, if only just for a moment.


I was standing on a dock the other morning, looking out at the lake (the Lord was kind to plant us in an area where the lake would do Michigan proud), and thinking about how still the water was.


Mornings bring about that stillness, but it was particularly noteworthy to me that day.


No matter what disturbances happen above or below the surface, no matter what gets thrown in or jumps out, the water of the lake will, eventually, settle itself back to calm.


How simple and how encouraging.


Calm will come.


And so, in case you need the reminder, it’s worth waiting for it because the stillness is beautiful.

Miracle Hands

Have you ever read a familiar Bible story and suddenly been struck by a new realization? 


That’s what happened to me when I re-read the story about the wedding at Cana in John 2 recently. 


It’s when Jesus performs His miracle. What’s wild about it, though, is that he does not physically do anything. He commands the servants to fill jars with water and then to draw out water and bring it to the master of the feast. 


In so doing, He allowed the miracle to pass between the servants’ hands rather than His own. I remember hearing this in passing a long time ago, but it really struck me this time, especially running parallel to the water to wine story.


Can you imagine being one of the servants to have poured and carried the water, knowing it changed to wine somewhere along the way when you were handling it? 


Jesus does something similar when He fed the 5000 in Matthew 14. He, Himself, blessed and broke the five loaves and two fish, but the multiplication happened in the disciples’ hands.


Again, can you imagine handing out and collecting all the remaining food knowing it was impossible, yet happening before your eyes?


What a way for Jesus to demonstrate His miraculous nature! It could have been something only He did, and there were certainly occasions when that happened, but to start His very first miracle being hands-off so to speak? 


He continues to amaze me.


As 2022 begins, the word I hope to explore more is REDISCOVER. There are many layers and applications for it, but one area, in particular, is Jesus and the Gospel. Who He is and a reminder of His kind and consistent character.


Who knows? Maybe we will see other miracles pass through the hands of humans.


Let’s call them miracle hands.

Fight Robots Not Babies

Have you ever seen the movie “The Incredibles” or its sequel?


If so, you might understand what I mean when I say kids are like the giant robot Mr. Incredible faces when he is unknowingly working for Syndrome. 


What a statement. Where am I even going with this?


The robot in the movie is programmed to get smarter over time, so the longer someone fights it, the greater the chance the robot will learn how to defeat its opponent. More time makes for improved learning and understanding.


Kids are the same way.


Well, except for the part where we’re not trying to shut them down before they kill us. Except for those days…you know the ones.


And all the parents said, “We do.”


Here’s what I mean: as kids grow, they learn more. They observe more. They take in their surroundings on a deeper level with newer understanding. While they are not working to put their parents out of commission, they are making incredible strides of knowledge every day. Some of those gains are easier to celebrate than others (haha), but all are victories of growth and learning. 


Playing with the sound machine is fun. I cannot reach it where it currently sits. Hmm, maybe I’ll pull on the wire. Oh look, it fell down! Now I can turn it on by myself.


I’d really like to go outside, but Mom is sitting on the couch. I know! If I bring her shoes to her, maybe she’ll take me outside. As I meet new people, I must pay attention to their shoes so I can tell them I want to go outside.


The place my mom puts things into in the kitchen and they come out as bread or treats I’ve learned is hot. I know what going to the corner means. I’m learning that hot also applies to candles, fire, even the kind on the TV. 


And the list could continue.


So what’s the good news? 


Unlike the robot - who forces the “Supers” to work tirelessly to dismantle it and keep themselves safe - kids are not simply learning to make things worse. 


The longer they have to learn, the more of a person they become. While there are certainly things Liam has figured out that I’d prefer he not know how to do yet, I also love watching the sponge-like process of absorption as he figures out more of his world. 


All this to say, “The Incredibles” robot and kids. Same thing.


Well, sort of.


PS Liam and Jack-Jack looked uncannily similar. Anyone else agree?

Seeeeeee

Seeing. Knowing. Understanding.


Oftentimes, when considering our future, these are desires we have. We just want to know what’s next, what to expect, what to prepare for so we’re not surprised. 


In short, we just want to see.


I came to this realization in the kitchen with my almost 19-month-old. When we’re cooking, he likes to be involved and see what’s going on. He’ll even become quite upset if not given the opportunity to view whatever might be sizzling away on the stove or mixing in the Kitchenaid or baking in the oven. We’ve tried our best to include him, but sometimes, we need both hands, and he needs to just be patient.


These interactions reminded me of the verse:


Set your minds on things above, not on things that are on earth.

Colossians 3:2


To Liam, standing at a little over 30 inches, things above include whatever is happening in the kitchen to prepare dinner. Sometimes he gets the opportunity to see the current step we’re working on, whereas other times, he just needs to be content in the waiting. 


He has the chance to trust that even if he can’t immediately see, he knows that we are working on something good.


So it is with our heavenly Father. We sometimes get those mountaintop moments where we can look out at the world and see far into the distance, but in reality, most of our time is spent in the valley. We know that the path remains visible on the mountaintop, even if we are not specifically up there.


Just like when we’re waiting to understand the next step in our lives, or Liam is waiting to get the chance to see what dinner looks like, we can still remain focused on heavenly things with patience and trust, even while our feet are planted on the earth. 


The work continues, whether we fully see it or not. 


That doesn’t mean we will stop asking, “Seeeeee?” and our heavenly Father will still occasionally pick us up in His arms to let us get a little look at the feast He’s cooking up for us.

Feast Preparation Team

The Bible frequently mentions feasts. Different parables reference these events. We use the term to describe one heck of a meal.


Even just hearing the word feast brings with it pleasant thoughts. 


Before church the other morning, in response to something our pastor said about his process of preparing for a sermon, the Lord gave me a picture.


The Gospel is a feast we’re all invited to partake of, participate in, and enjoy. When we first hear the Good News it’s as if we walk into a room full of tables laden with food beyond our wildest dreams. Tables with many guests laughing merrily, feeling fully accepted. 


Our first while as believers, we mostly consume and enjoy the splendor. We sit at the table and savor the food, the atmosphere, the gift of it all. 


As our walk of faith progresses, we feel this invitation to be part of the feast preparation team. Perhaps it looks like giving up our seat and donning a server’s attire to create space for the new arrivals. Maybe it looks like being part of the food preparation and doing some of the tasks that would be deemed unenjoyable. (Raw meat anyone?)


We always need the Good News of the Gospel. We always remain partakers and participants of the feast, but our position may change. As we learn more about what it means to follow Christ and to count the cost, we get introduced to concepts like humility and walking the narrow road and turning the other cheek that really are not enjoyable things to engage in, but ultimately invite us to take a role of service. The Lord and the Gospel do not need additions, but we do get to become fellow laborers.


This transition, the one where we invite others to the feast and consequently help prepare their portion, is not always glamorous, but it ends up adding an even sweeter taste to our portion of the feast. It’s the seasoning that brings out new flavors and understanding of this incredible news we have to share.


So, how may I help you?

Trash Piles

We have a compost pile in our backyard. It’s been satisfying to compost. I feel like I’m being far less wasteful.


Recently, we’ve discovered that we have a few avocado plants growing out of the compost pile. 


New life out of decay. 


Interesting.


Have you ever been in a setting where someone told you to lay your problems at the feet of Jesus?


I have, regularly.


It’s a comforting thought, to be able to take our burdens off our own shoulders and place them at the feet of the loving Father. 


This morning I considered the imagery in a new light: What if we all get to the end of our lives and find ourselves standing with heaping piles of trash around us from all the things we’ve laid at His feet? 


I’m talking a landfill high enough to at least come up to His ankles. While that doesn’t sound high, consider He is the God of the universe so His feet are massive.


Our worldly problems, when held in the light of eternity, really are just that: trash. A touch aggressive, but you get my point.


Taking the analogy further, the Lord started to show me what His redemptive work would look like where those mountains of trash are concerned. He is actually constantly turning our trash, our waste, our decay, into compostable material, fit to produce new life. 


His redemption turns our trash piles into a compost pile. 


Which brings us back to the avocado plants. When was the last time you really looked and understood the redemptive work of the Lord in your life? Spend some time asking Him what good may be growing out of the many things you’ve laid at His feet.


You might just find yourself with some unexpected new life.

PS Respond in the comments if you compost along with the weirdest thing you’ve ever composted!

"The Room Where It Happens"

This week, thanks to a very thoughtful birthday gift from my friend Kate, I had the opportunity to see Hamilton in Atlanta.


Before I go any further, can we just talk about how cleverly brilliant Lin-Manuel Miranda is? Every time I hear the songs I find something new to be blown away by. From my first time of hearing about it while in Thailand to long bus rides to listening to the soundtrack while in labor post-epidural to watching the Disney+ recording of the original cast and finally to seeing it live, it truly is amazing. 


I was again reminded about how I feel for Aaron Burr. The story is told with his life running parallel to Hamilton’s, and Aaron wants to be in the seats Alexander occupies. His jealousy and frustration blossoms into eventual murder (spoiler #readahistorybook) which I in no way endorse, OBVIOUSLY, but odds are everyone can relate to the general experience of bumping up against a more successful person. 


Even in recent moments, I’ve experienced the pang of wishing I were included in some social event or discussion. In other words, resonating deeply with wanting to be “in the room where it happens.”


I, I wanna be in the room where it happens

The room where it happens

I wanna be in the room where it happens

The room where it happens


The lyrics and narration by Burr morph from a third-party observer (“no one else was in the room where it happened”) to owning how he wants to be in the room. 


I so get that.


In different seasons, communities, moments I’ve had the experience of being aware something important was going on, but I didn’t receive the invite. 


Ouch. Painful.


While sitting in the Fox Theater earlier this week, hearing the song live, and watching Burr eventually conclude “the world was wide enough for both Hamilton and me,” I felt a nudge from the Lord. 


What is so important about being in the “room,” whatever room means for you in a circumstance where you are wanting to be present but are not? 


The Lord’s response was this to me:


You’re looking at the wrong room.


While the desire to want to be included in ~insert your inclusion ambition or desire~ is not inherently wrong, being excluded from something does not need to develop unhealthy fruit (particularly if it involves shooting one of your friends).

 

At the root, I sensed the Lord reminding me that the underlying message is the need or desire for the approval of other human beings. Approval of man. 

 

For am I now seeking the approval of man, or of God? Or am I trying to please man? If I were still trying to please man, I would not be a servant of Christ.

Galatians 1:10

 

When I think about the rooms I want to be in, is my first desire to be in the ones where I know the Lord will be present? He is with us always, but does that certainty shape my perspective? Is He any less with me if I am in certain “rooms” or not? No.

 

The important room where important things are happening is wherever the Lord wants me to be and where He is being glorified. 

 

Sure, the sting of not being included is real and can be painful, but our ultimate acceptance by the One who matters is not contingent on other human beings.

 

Look around, look around at how lucky we are to be alive right now.

 

Also, invest some time in listening to Hamilton, at the very least, if you have not yet done so. It’ll change your life.

On Breastfeeding

April 7, 2020 to July 20, 2021.


439 days, roughly 15.5 months, spanning ages 28, 29, and 30.


That’s how long Liam and I spent in the breastfeeding season. 


We did feedings in a car, a plane, a boat in Michigan, in the middle of a mountain on a hike, a Dunkin drivethrough...the list could go on, we ventured into many territories. The beauty of having the food source easily accessible and on the go.


With pregnancy and breastfeeding included, my body was busy sustaining both itself and another life for roughly two straight years. (And I wonder why my emotions were a bit of a roller coaster during that time... #hormones) I’m grateful my body was able to produce breastmilk, the miracle substance, to sustain Liam for so long. I know not everyone is able to do that, and so, I’m extremely grateful.


If you had told me before giving birth how long we might go, I think I would have been shocked. Truthfully, I was more worried about the pain and challenges of breastfeeding than I was birth...until it came time to go to the hospital and the reality of getting the baby out of my body became inescapable. Ha.


On day two of Liam’s life, while still recovering from the C-section, learning to breastfeed, feeling sore everywhere, experiencing little contractions as the breastfeeding stimulated the shrinking of my uterus back to normal sizes (a brilliant system but like, ouch), and having not yet taken the good drugs for the pain, there was a moment I was walking around the hospital room in tears. Ronny, the kind man that he is, gently said it was OK for me to be frustrated, even frustrated with Liam because it was all so new and challenging. It was very kind to hear.


We came a long way, and life improved with more painkillers. All I can say to my fellow C-section ladies is, take the drugs, the good ones. Trust me.


Just as my body healed and adapted after birth, my relationship and experience with breastfeeding changed over time. 


For whatever reason, my body was very good at producing milk. One time I pumped 14 ounces which meant I lost almost a pound in 30 minutes! What even? Apart from two doses of formula in the hospital to make sure his blood sugars were fine, my body was solely responsible for providing Liam with nutrients for many months. In retrospect, that is insane to think about! Not only that, but breastmilk adapts to what the baby needs if they’re sick, can help heal scratches on skin, and so much more. Wild!


When I consider the hours a day I spent feeding him in the beginning of his life to the total of five to ten minutes at the end of this breastfeeding season, it’s no wonder my perspective changed.


New mothers are cows. 


There’s just no other way around it. You exist to produce milk to sustain the little life that was recently being cared for inside your body but is now outside.


Even with getting Liam on a predictable schedule, there were still times where I felt like I couldn’t even get an hour of time away before he woke up from a nap (that 45-minute intruder business took some sorting out...if you know you know). For the first few weeks, I wouldn’t wear a shirt while I fed him. Clothing just felt like too much to deal with while I was trying to figure it out.


This verse was significant for me both during pregnancy and breastfeeding. A living sacrifice indeed.


I appeal to you therefore, brothers, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship.

Romans 12:1


The first time I fed him in “public” was at a house church not too far into the beginnings of covid. I brought one of those covers and tried feeding him in a chair in the living room with everyone else. I kept popping my head up through the hole and tucking it back down. In addition to providing plenty of entertainment for everyone there, my hair looked as good as you might expect.


The ability to produce well, coupled with my, at times, obsessive intentionality to ensure my supply did not drop, meant the decision to stop breastfeeding was one I got to make rather than having it be made for me. I was definitely sad and drug my feet about concluding it because I kind of hoped I would get pregnant and have the decision made for me so I could avoid walking into grief. In praying through it with the Lord, He told me I needed to embrace walking into some grieving of the ending of one season, to conclude this season well before stepping into the next. 


The bittersweet nature of motherhood and parenting started early. 


And all the parents said, “It goes so fast.”


It’s been two and half weeks since we stopped, and apart from the buildup of deciding when to be done and a brief cry after the last feeding, I don’t think either Liam or I have missed it much. Truthfully, I’m not sure he even noticed the change because I intentionally stopped before we were away from home and out of our routine for a week and a half. 


It was time to finish and enter a new season of bonding. 


Coming to the decision to choose the last day took me a while. It wasn’t necessarily because I loooved breastfeeding, but rather I felt sentimental about the season passing. Liam and I would not ever go back to that time. It’s unique, but it’s also meant to be temporary.


There are definitely things I won’t miss. One of my least favorite parts of it was when he got teeth and had a day of biting me. Well, two feedings to be more specific. We had some intense fellowship involving me flicking his mouth following a bite, his lip slowly starting to quiver as he realized what happened, and then I think we both cried. Ronny, not realizing a flick had already happened, sealed the deal with an additional flick in defense of me, so it was just all-around not great for any of us. Mama was not down with biting. Ugh, I was sweating all over during the feed following the first time he bit me. Yikes.


I won’t miss having stains on the sheets because I leaked or having to figure out where to pump if I wasn’t going to be with him during a feeding time or just needing to wear pads for the surprise let down or how frequently he needed to eat from me.


The first time he slept for a seven-hour stretch, I still woke up ready to feed because my body had obviously not yet adapted. It was a strange feeling to realize we made it. Also, ironic that when your baby does finally go for a long stretch, you are likely not able to yourself because of the full factor. It’s incredible that your body can pretty quickly learn to maintain a milk supply but not produce overnight. The entire system is a miracle.


I won’t miss using a washcloth to desperately try to keep him awake for a feed.


Travel, in the early days, was a lot. We did several long roadtrips where I would pump while using a bottle thermos to heat up stored milk in a cooler. It was a time that I can think back on with some degree of fondness but am also very OK having it be simpler. At least, feeding him is simpler haha.


I’m not sure if I’ll miss the food source switch or not. There was a clear shift from “oh there’s mama” to me morphing into a boob. It’s like those cartoons where someone is so hungry the thing in front of them turns into a food item. Yeah, I was the food item. The switch was usually followed by a lot of whining and then the satisfying relief sounds when he was allowed to start eating. This process was often catalyzed at nighttime when I would sit down in the nursing rocking chair while Ronny changed him into his pajamas.


There are, of course, things I’ll miss, things only I experienced with him in his lifetime. 


Hearing the sound of him drinking, for someone who does not like very many sounds, was something special. I feel the same way when he drinks a bottle now. He had a funny habit of putting his foot in my face or having one leg up while nursing, but also very much did not want me to be touching him. He’d go so far as to kick my arm, my bicep specifically, to get me to move it. 


Letdown is such an odd sensation to describe...like spidery veins being filled up. I came to like it, especially because it let me know things were moving. Having it happen outside of feeding wasn’t always ideal, but hey, you learn. My grandma, Nini, had the advice to wear patterned shirts when you’re a new mom. Lots of wisdom in that because few things are more awkward than having a solid colored shirt on and a nice leak spot for all to see. 


Pumping provided such a feeling of relief, specifically early on when your body is cranking out supply. It’s truly THE BEST. The longer we went the more efficient Liam became and the less I enjoyed the pump, but having a feeding off to pump in the early weeks was a dream.


A mixed bag is whether I’ll miss the equipment involved - nursing chair, Boppys, pump, milk storage bags, cleaning everything, cooler, bottle thermos, etc. OK, I probably won’t miss that.


Just as I changed throughout, so did he. He started signaling all done once he learned how. I’ll never forget the snatch and latch to start. Goodness, it was excellent when he became skilled at nursing! Him playing with my mouth and reaching up was sweet. So were all the selfies we took.


Looking back, my favorite feedings were in the middle of the night when the world was quiet. I’d take selfies with Liam and send them to Ronny to wake up to several hours later. We took LOTS.


One funny routine I developed was to play a song on our google speaker from my phone in Liam’s room to let Ronny know we were finished. It was birthed out of Ronny not having his phone near him one time so I had to figure out a way of getting his attention without leaving Liam’s room. The result? I played “Shut Up and Dance with Me” and picked new songs going forward. We called them summoning songs. Hilarious and effective. 


Finally, one big piece of the breastfeeding journey I’ll cherish was the community of moms I had at the time. Three other couples had their sons within a month of us having Liam (one of them shared our duedate and another had a Liam of their own). It was incredible comforting to wake up for the middle of the night feeding and have texts from them because they were awake as well. What a gift. I realize you cannot control if you’ll be pregnant at the same time as other people in your community, but if you’re able to find that, 10/10 would recommend.


Like anything in life, breastfeeding has both positives and challenges. I’m grateful my experience had far more positives to it, but also, that the season was temporary.


To the women out there deciding if it’s right for them, do it. It’s amazing and worth the sacrifice. Say no to nipple shields if you can help it. Find a husband like mine who was so encouraging. He was the one to suggest I take a feeding off to pump while he gave Liam a bottle so I could get a break. Praise the Lord.


If you’re not able to, hey, a fed baby is a happy baby. You have to do what’s right for you, your baby, and the life rhythm of your family. Either way, if you want suggestions, we followed the Preparation for Parenting sleep training schedule, and it made a HUGE difference because we went in with a plan on how to go about it. Liam dropped the middle of the night feeding between two and three months. He’s very predictable with sleep. We actually never lost an entire night of sleep! Our only really bad night was our first night home from the hospital, and we still got several hours of sleep even with that.


All that to say, breastfeeding was worth it for me. I’m grateful my son and I were able to share that time together. I’m grateful I got to care for him that way, to be his mom. 


The good news is, I’m still his mom. He may not need me the same way, which is a relieving and sad thing, but we get to move into a new chapter.


Throughout the conclusion of this season and subsequent processing, this verse stuck with me:



But I have calmed and quieted my soul, like a weaned child with its mother; like a weaned child is my soul within me.

Psalm 131:2


Honestly, I think my soul calmed and quieted once I got my head wrapped around the decision to finish breastfeeding. It’s a beautiful, stretching, and temporary time.


Liam, we did it. I want you to know that I wanted to soak everything I could out of that time with you because I knew it wasn’t forever. I wanted to fully embrace that time before saying yes to a new season with you, with our family, and before you get any siblings. You are a sweet boy, and you were more than worth it all.

PS Mooooooo. 

Michigan Summers

We’re in the midst of our annual summer trip to Michigan. If you’ve never been, just know, summers in Michigan are the absolute best. The weather is so lovely, cool enough in the morning to wear a cozy sweatshirt and warm enough during the day to hang out in a bathing suit. 


Part of this trip has been going on for over twenty years. One side of my family gathers in Traverse City for a reunion. The trip activities have not changed a whole lot year to year, but the consistency of it has been something I’ve begun to really value the past few years. It reveals the subtle changes of family, for instance, the youngest of the grandkids is now nearly done with college and the next generation has begun with Liam. Spouses and fiancés and relationships have been added. Much is the same and much is very different.


When I was thinking about it at first, I felt sad, the bittersweet taste of change. Welcoming in the new is a joyful thing, but it also coincides with letting go of old seasons. The tension is real, and I found myself emotional on more than one occasion, though some of that may have been connected to wrangling a very energetic toddler…


Tradition and innovation. We need both. Tradition and the consistency of it tells us who we are and where we’ve come from, while innovation helps us be a part of creating where we’re going and reminds us that change brings with it a lot of good as well. 


Change helps us experience traditions with a new perspective. 


I find it interesting that I’ve been invested in the psalms the past few months. Throughout the ups and downs of the book, one thing remains true: the psalmist praises the Lord and regularly reflects on his faithfulness.


He encompasses both tradition and innovation. He remains constant and faithful and patiently guides us into new seasons of trusting Him.


There’s comfort in that.


I’ll continue to look forward to these summer trips which have grown to include reunions with both sides of my extended family. I’ll continue to enjoy being around bodies of water at almost every turn, riding in the boat at the cottage, soaking in the farm atmosphere, and, ultimately, embracing that time moves forward and brings change with it. 


Fortunately, He is faithful through it all.