I Had an Unplanned Cesarean and I’m Okay with That. (And Why You Should Be Okay with Yours Too!)

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When I was pregnant with my daughter, I could probably count on one hand the women I knew of who had Cesareans. But I didn’t talk to them about their experiences so I could get an idea what it’s like, in case I wound up having one myself, because “I’m having an all-natural, peaceful, whenever-the-baby’s-ready home birth, and there is no need to learn about the surgery or post-op recovery.”

WRONG.

Whether you’re pregnant now or will be sometime in the future, take this bit of advice from me, please: read up on Cesareans so you won’t have that fist-to-the-gut feeling I did when the doctor told me he suggested I have one. Get informed about the how, the why, and especially the recovery. You may never even need to have a C-section, but just in case you do, be prepared and at least know a little bit about it, unlike me.

Anyway. Back to what I’m trying to get at.

If two years ago you’d have told my pregnant self that I’d eventually go twenty-two days over my due date, have a failed induction, and then finally have no choice but to get a C-section, I wouldn’t have believed you. Because none of that was in my plan. Going overdue somewhat, maybe, but not the other stuff. Psh—no way.

I had hoped and planned for a home birth in Tennessee with my midwives, but as I kept going days and days over my due date, our time for my wonderful, ideal, dreamed-about-ever-since-I-can-remember birth was running out. Three weeks past due was the cut-off date, and so on the day I reached 43 weeks with no signs of labor starting anytime soon, we planned an induction at a hospital with a doctor for the next morning—already three things I never, ever imagined myself doing.

Long story short (you can read the full version HERE), the induction didn’t work because apparently my body and my baby STILL weren’t ready yet, and then my blood pressure was high enough to be concerned about, and the baby was assumed to be facing the wrong way (turns out she was), which could cause a problem later on if I delivered vaginally, SO we chose that last resort we’d never dreamed of: a Cesarean section. A full-on MAJOR SURGERY. (Okay, so I admit that part didn’t hit me till later on, but y’all—this surgery is NO JOKE and my heart and so much respect go out to each and every woman who has had this operation.)

Once I started coming off my newborn baby high (AHHH—the best thing in this world!) and I realized there was still a whole world out there with (gasp!) other people, and I was finally over the infection in my incision (O-U-C-H), I realized how very disappointed I actually was that I did not have the birth I’d always dreamed of, the one I’d been planning for nearly ten months, even rented the birthing house for. And I started hating myself for not being able to give birth like a “normal person.” I told myself I must have done something wrong, or not enough things right, to cause everything opposite of my plan to come about. What if I’d exercised more? I wondered. Or, What if I hadn’t eaten some of the things I did? How come So-and-So was able to do it but not me? A friend of mine from church had told me right after Eden was born to never let myself think these things, because I didn’t fail, and I did still carry and give birth to my child, and I was still just as woman as the one who delivered naturally. It was weeks later when I started actually thinking those awful things that I would have to remind myself what she told me. What she said was exactly true, but while I certainly felt that other women who gave birth by Cesarean were amazing mothers and women who had done only what was best for their children, in my heart I couldn’t believe it about myself.

I didn’t ever get depressed about the whole thing, but I did put myself down a lot whenever I thought about how my body couldn’t go into labor on its own, my body couldn’t get into real, good labor even with the help of Pitocin, my body “couldn’t, couldn’t, wouldn’t. It was also hard reading or hearing other people’s labor and birth stories, knowing I didn’t get to experience the real thing, wondering if I ever would.

A few months ago I spoke with a new friend of mine who had also within the past year given birth via unplanned Cesarean. We swapped our stories and they were almost identical! We chatted about the disappointment we felt when our bodies just wouldn’t do what we wanted them to, the physical and emotional sides of recovering, and our fears of ever having another baby and the same thing happening all over again. Beyond all, though, we are both thankful that we had the option of Cesarean for the sake of our babies, and for their well-being we would not have had it any way but the best way for them—which just so happened to be C-sections. By the time she and I met I can say I was very close to having accepted my daughter’s birth as a whole, but I think being able to talk about it (for the first time!) with someone who totally, absolutely understood exactly what I felt, was a huge weight off my shoulders and I think a big part of fully accepting.

To someone who hasn’t had a Cesarean, I probably sound like a big sissy for having worried so much for so long about how my baby got here, as long as she’s here, safe and perfectly sound—and maybe it is silly—but it’s something a lot of women have to work through emotionally, and I think there are a few big things that can help them get past the disappointment and embrace the truth that this did happen, that their plans can change in a minute, and that they are still every bit of a woman as the one who delivers naturally, or vaginally with an epidural. I may never have that “normal” birth, but that is something I’ll come to grips with if and when the time comes, and since I’ve done this before, I think it will be much easier if I go through it again.

Four things that I believe can help a lot are:

  1. Just be grateful, first and foremost, that your baby is safe and in this world, and that there are doctors out there who know what they’re doing when it does come down to major surgery in favor of the baby’s (and your) health.
  2. Write out your birth story, or record yourself telling it. Just simply getting it all out and off your chest (and reliving the glorious moments!) can sometimes be the best medicine.
  3. Talk to someone who understands, who’s been there. After having my daughter I was surprised at how many friends have had Cesareans, and I didn’t even know it before, but talking to them about it can be so helpful. Talk to someone who will let you spill out your frustrations, but who will also tell you it’s okay, you did amazing, and now you need to suck it up, buttercup. (Because friends don’t let friends throw pity parties.)
  4. Encourage other people. When you talk to a mom who is down about her C-section experience, you can thank God you also went through it, because now you can let her cry on your shoulder, you can tell her it’s gonna be all right (because you know it is), and you can show her what it looks like to pick yourself back up and smile, because you’ve been there, you’re strong, and she is too. I think this was the biggest thing for me to being able to actually be thankful for my C-section (besides the obvious fact that my baby is safely here). I can be thankful I went through something hard like this because when someone else has gone through it and needs encouragement, I can now be a help to that person.

There may still be days here and there when I’ll look down and see my constant reminder, that 6-inch battle scar on my abdomen that may fade but will never completely go away, and I start to think, What if—? but I’m going to stop myself right there, because it’s just a scar, that was just a C-section, it was just a thing I had to do, and I’m okay with it now. I am grateful.

And you can be, too.

Cosmopolitan Magazine, Celebrated Abortion, and Compassion

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One day last year we had someone else’s magazine dropped into our mailbox. Our address was on the back, but under someone else’s name. It was a Cosmopolitan magazine. I never read their stuff, because, like most other magazines, they are just full of garbage (and I am much more likely to read Better Homes and Gardens than anything), but before throwing it in the trash can, I quickly skimmed through it to see just what is printed in a popular magazine read by millions these days.

What I saw was nothing more than what I expected, sadly: weight-loss tips (because you’re not skinny enough), celebrity gossip (because that’s what’s really important), half-dressed women (because fully-dressed women aren’t pleasant to look at), beauty tips (because you’re not pretty enough), and how-to-have-better-sex articles (because, obviously, that’s what life is all about).

You’re catching my sarcasm, I hope?

So, before tossing this abhorrent thing into the trash, one of the article titles in the index caught my eye and I stared at it in horror: How to Get a Safe Abortion. I flipped to the page it was on, hoping that surely it wasn’t about to say what I was afraid it would say. But it did. It said exactly that and much more. This entire magazine was filled with articles about how awful anti-abortionists are, and how great abortion is, how safe, how selfless, how empowering.

In the article titled How to Get a Safe Abortion, they use the word “safe” so many times. Isn’t it strange how their definition of “safe” means only one person is actually physically saved in the process, while at the same time an innocent, separate life is being ripped from the woman’s body and murdered, all in the name of “protecting women” and “women’s rights.”

A “safe abortion” would be not to have one. A “safe abortion” would be using your right to choose by choosing life for both mother and baby. A “safe abortion” is not even possible. There is no such thing as a “safe abortion.”

Defending once again the so-called “safety” of an abortion, they wrote, “Legal abortion remains exceptionally safe, with a major complication rate in the U.S. estimated around 0.2 percent.” But they have forgotten about the other “major complication rate” which is 100% to the life they are so heartlessly diminishing. They don’t care about that other life, as so many claim to by saying they’re doing it “for the good” of the baby.

“It’s not like ending a pregnancy is fun. But by three years later, 99 percent of women seeking abortions say they made the right choice, according to researchers who interviewed 667 women.” While it may be true that some women get through having an abortion with no physical complications and no regrets afterward, most women DO regret it, whether immediately or eventually. Most women wish they could have kept the baby. Most women hate what they’ve done and feel so ashamed.

This magazine issue included interviews with several women who had had abortions. While those women say they have no regrets or doubt they made the right decision, I truly wonder if they’re really being honest with themselves, if they have just lied to themselves for so long that they are starting to believe that what they did is okay. I would guess they have, at some point, felt pain and regret for what they did, but just don’t want to face it because it’s just too hard and there is no going back. Or maybe Cosmopolitan is not even telling the entire story; just what they want other women to hear and believe.

Reading the interviews with those women made me sick to my stomach. It also made me so extremely sad for them. I wonder if had these women had someone lovingly tell them everything would be okay if they kept their baby, they might have listened. If someone had given them hope and strength and the motivation to care for the little life inside them instead of pressing them to abort, they might have listened.

One of them spoke of her day at the clinic and remembered seeing protesters standing outside. She and her boyfriend were about to go pay for a murder, but the ironic thing is she was worried that the protesters would start something violent. She added, “There was a security guard out there too, and he let us into the building. I thought, ‘At least there’s not going to be any violence.’ It made me feel better.”

Pro-abortionists claim that it’s an act of selflessness when you choose to end a life (yes, they admit it’s a life) because you’re preventing him or her from having a hard or less-than-ideal life later on, but in reality it’s a selfish answer to their “problem.”

One of the women interviewed said, “I have a lot of tattoos and it hurts to get tattooed, but there is a point when you think, I am getting something out of this pain. The abortion felt sort of the same. It was uncomfortable and strange, but my brain switched to, ‘It’s fine because after this pain I get this [positive thing].’ …I wouldn’t be the person I am—a successful, happy person—if I had to have that baby. I would be somebody stuck in poverty with few options to dig out of it. I didn’t become a heart surgeon or win a Nobel Prize. I just became an independent person who was able to find happiness. The opportunity to do that is the least anyone deserves.”

This next one took me completely by surprise:

A wife and already mother of three, said that when she and her husband found out they were expecting again they immediately knew they didn’t want the baby and went to schedule an abortion the very next day. They thought their life was perfect just the way it was and that another baby would just mess all of that up. “We love our little family and are super happy,” she said. At the end of the interview she added that she doesn’t regret the abortion at all. “Recently,” she said, “I babysat for my sister-in-law. She has a 2-year-old and an infant, and I was like, ‘No, no, no, I don’t want to do this again.’ So, no, I don’t regret the decision, and I don’t want to have seven babies to make up for it.”

I write all this to point out that there is so much hurt and so much hatred and so much selfishness in this world. There are very, very cold hearts that maybe we even think deserve to die in their filthy sins. But we must remember that there are also those who are 100% ignorant of the wrong they have done. They all simply need a loving person to help them see the error of their ways and be merciful and compassionate enough to help them through the tough times and just be their friend. Even the knowingly guilty ones can turn from their sins and be forgiven. Even the women who “don’t regret” their abortions. Even the doctors, who are trained to help maintain life but who choose to take it as well, can turn from their evil deeds and be forgiven.

We must remember that there is still good in this world too, even though thousands of babies are killed every single day. And we need to BE that good in the world. WE need to be the loving hands who help others find the right way. WE need to be the arms that hold those who have made horrible mistakes and grieve with them. WE need to be the merciful and forgiving people who will befriend those who have repented of their sin and are washed of it. WE need to be like Jesus, who looked past a person’s mistakes and simply saw a dirty soul that, through Him, could be washed as white as snow.

This past Sunday our preacher gave a lesson on compassion. He gave a contrast of the scribes and Pharisees versus Jesus. They were all against sinful living and told people about the error of their ways, but the way they presented their messages to the people was different: the scribes and Pharisees did so with a haughty spirit and pride and hatred in their hearts, but Jesus did so with compassion every single time. And in the end, who got the people to listen? It was Jesus, because He cared about each person and wasn’t haughty and arrogant like the scribes and Pharisees. We ought to have that same compassion toward every single soul we come in contact with.

We are called to be compassionate people. Pro-choicers are so convinced that we are a hateful gang with no tolerance whatsoever and no love for women. But while there may be some pro-lifers out there who are hateful and angry (and with good reason), we don’t need to be like that. Jesus called us to be lights in this dark world, and the salt of the earth that has lost its flavor. When we speak, we are to do so with grace, just like He did. He looked past the dreadful sins of the people and reached for their soul. We can do the same by not judging someone by their terrible deeds–even an abortion–and kindly help them see the wrong, show them that there is forgiveness, and love them just like Jesus loves them.

“So, as those who have been chosen of God, holy and beloved, put on a heart of compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience, bearing with one another, and forgiving each other, whoever has a complaint against anyone; just as the Lord forgave you, so also should you. Beyond all these things put on love, which is the perfect bond of unity.” (Colossians 3:12-14)

Cosmopolitan Magazine, I have a suggestion for you: If you so claim to love and help and protect women, why not show a little genuine compassion and help them to see that a baby is not the end of their world. Help them see that murdering a baby is not ever the right or selfless or loving answer to their predicament. Show them that maybe if they sincerely think they can’t support a little human, then adoption is an option because so many couples not able to have a baby of their own are desperately wanting one to love. Maybe you could help these women get back up on their feet again so that they actually can support the little life growing inside them. Maybe instead of “empowering” them by helping them get the career they want by taking their baby’s life, really empower them by helping them strive for that career, all the while loving and caring for their baby, because I have seen so many women prove that it is possible. Cosmopolitan, there are SO many ways of loving and helping and protecting women, and it’s not the way you’re doing it.

~Courtney Faith

Eden Lily’s Birth Story

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This is not going to be your “typical” birth story. Then again, no birth is really typical; they’re each unique and a beautiful gift from God.

Our story starts January 17th, 2016– our baby girl’s expected date of arrival.

I knew all along not to expect an early baby, and I figured she’d probably even be a week late, at least. But once her due date rolls around and flies by, I start to get that itchy feeling. “C’mon, baby! It’s time now, darling.” Days go by, a week goes by, two weeks go by … and still no baby born. I keep getting texts and calls, questions from everyone I see– “You haven’t had that baby YET?!” “How long will you let her go?” “What are you going to DO about it?” Frankly, I was getting pretty tired of all the attention, though I knew everyone meant well and was genuinely concerned.

We just kept waiting and waiting, and I kept praying this baby would decide to come very soon. Three weeks overdue was the cut-off date for a home birth because of safety rules and such, and we had planned on having a home birth in Tennessee with our wonderful midwives. When forty-three weeks was quickly approaching, I began to fret. And worry. And fret and worry some more.

My midwives were so extremely reassuring. The baby was fine, I was healthy, so all we had to do was pray for a safe (and soon) arrival. But they also told me that even if we wound up delivering in the hospital instead of giving birth at the house, it would be all right. I knew it’d be all right, but I mean … I had PLANS, okay? I needed this baby to follow my plan!

January slowly passes, and February rolls around. I was beginning to slowly surrender all my plans to God. I just wanted a safe delivery and a healthy baby. On February 5th I wrote,
“I realize now, more than ever, this baby is in God’s hands — the pregnancy, birth, everything … And so I wait. We wait. And I am pressed to trust and pray more than ever. I can do nothing to fix what [the] outcome will [be]. I can only pray that whatever is best for the baby is what will happen. And whether that be a home birth in Tennessee today, tomorrow, or Sunday, or an induced birth in the hospital on Monday, I will strive to be content. God knows best, and I believe He will take care of our child … I must concede my desires, unfortunately, and just pray. Pray, pray, pray that only the best for Eden’s sake will happen. God’s will be done.”

All this time I was feeling the same as I had been for weeks, with no changes. I finally began having Braxton Hicks contractions the last few weeks, but they weren’t painful at all or even very uncomfortable. I tried natural inductions– eating tons of parsley, a whole pineapple, LOTS of walking, castor oil (TASTES LIKE CHAPSTICK), etc. You name it, I tried it. Obviously none of those things did the trick.

February 6th I began having stronger contractions than usual, and they were long and pretty consistent and uncomfortable. “Maybe this is it,” I told myself. I talked to my midwife and she said it could be the start of labor, but to wait and see. After I went to bed and fell asleep, the contractions stopped. The next morning I started having some again, but they didn’t continue and eventually subsided, much to our dismay.

The next day, Sunday (my birthday), we and the midwives and doctor decided to go ahead with an induction. We were scheduled to be at the hospital at 5AM the next morning. I cried so hard that day, because my dreams for a natural birth were not going to come true. But that night I wrote, “NOT what I ever had in mind. Home birth has always, always been something I strongly believe in and have dreamed of my whole life. But sometimes answers to our prayers are different than expected, and we have to trust that, somehow, it’s for the best. I’ve prayed all along for a good, safe delivery with the midwives, but most important of all for the safety of our baby girl, no matter when or where. I guess this is for the best. If not for her sake, but my own– that I will learn patience in waiting, and full trust in God when things don’t go exactly how I think they ought. So, this time tomorrow I could be holding my precious darling in my arms, and all these current fears and worries will be behind me.”

We arrived at the hospital at 5AM and got checked in. They put me in a room and had the pitocin running through an IV by about 6:00 AM. They would come in every little while to up the dosage of the pitocin so my body could gradually contract longer and harder, and eventually start getting labor going good and steady. At that time the nurse had checked and said I was maybe 4 centimeters dilated. “Okay, that’s good,” I thought.

Besides the IV needle stuck in my left forearm, I had two monitors strapped around my belly– one for monitoring the baby’s heart rate (which they kept having to move to a different spot because she decided it was a good time to do somersaults) and the other for measuring the height of each contraction. I also had a blood pressure monitor wrapped around my right arm that read my blood pressure every ten or fifteen minutes, since it had been reading a bit high throughout the pregnancy. So most of the time I had four things on me during labor. Talk about feeling pinned down! Whenever I had to use the restroom they had to unhook the IV pump and it just was a lot of hassle and took way too much time, I thought.

At first I just laid in bed and rested. For a little while I cross-stitched, but within a few hours my contractions started getting a bit stronger and I would have to lay my cross-stitching down and concentrate on getting through each one. They didn’t hurt at first, but they were getting my attention. A while later they became even stronger, and were beginning to get a bit painful. I was still able to handle them lying down or sitting up in bed, so they were tolerable. My midwives wanted to come whenever I got to around 6-7 centimeters dilated, but by early afternoon my contractions were intense enough that I wanted them there with me to help me focus on getting through them the right way. Still, I was only 4 centimeters.

In the room with me were Cord, my mom, the two midwives, and their assistant. Each one helped in a different way that was so very special to me and I don’t know how I could have done it without all of them.

As time went on, contractions got stronger and stronger, and I was in pain (but struggling to admit it to myself for quite a while). My midwives convinced me to get out of the bed and try moving around, because nothing was happening yet and I was just plain uncomfortable. The baby was still jumping all over the place, so we needed her in a good position for birth. I sat on the edge of the bed, in a rocker, stood up, and considered using a birthing ball but never got the bravery to do it (honestly, I just didn’t want to fall over during a contraction!). At some point I got back on the bed and just sat there through the pain as best I could, because by then nothing was “comfortable” (as if anything is during labor). Cord stayed by my side through it all, holding my hand, rubbing my back, and encouraging me with each contraction.

The whole day I had had nothing to eat, and the nurses only allowed me to have water and ice chips (but I did have some Gatorade I’d brought and one Sprite and they did not seem to care), so I was STARVING STARVING STARVING. I was beginning to get chills and started to shiver like crazy during contractions, but by the time someone put a blanket over my shoulders I would be burning up. Whenever I got hot I would start to feel nauseous, and that was NOT FUN. I lost track of how many times I threw up that day.

The midwives’ assistant was there by my side helping me stay as comfortable as possible. I’d brought my essential oils with me, but really wish I had brought the diffuser as well. When I was nauseous, she put lemon oil in my water and let me take sips of it between contractions. When I was burning up, she put peppermint on a wet rag and laid it on the back of my neck. And to help me relax, she put lavender on my wrists. Those little bits of comfort here and there were amazing.

By the evening I was so tired that I could barely keep my eyes open. I kept them closed most of the time, I believe, except sometimes I’d open them between contractions. I just wanted sleep, but couldn’t relax enough to get any rest. “Epidural” kept coming to mind but I wouldn’t say anything. Not yet. I had to be strong. “It’s gonna get a lot worse than this,” I kept telling myself. “Just go on a little longer.” Eventually I whispered the idea to Cord but he reminded me how badly I had not wanted an epidural, and that I should just keep going, at least for a bit longer. He had to remind me several times, but he kept my hopes up, and each time I would get my act together and started focusing once again on the task at hand, but trying not to focus on the pain… for a little while, at least.

At about 4:00 PM the nurse came in and checked me, but I was only 4.5 or mayyyybe 5 centimeters dilated, and the baby’s head was no longer down low like it had been (for WEEKS). The nurse called the doctor to keep him updated (he was at his clinic that day) and since we were seeing no progress in the 10 hours I’d been on the pitocin drip, and the baby was obviously not cooperating at the time, he told the nurse who came back and told me that they thought there may be a need for a Cesarean section, unfortunately. My heart sank. C-section was THE LAST thing on my list of things I wanted for this birth. Having to be induced was hard enough for me, and then the thought of an epidural was just beyond that, but a cesarean?! Cord asked them if we could think about it a while, and she said of course we could, and that the doctor wouldn’t be back to the hospital for at least another two hours.

As soon as she went out of the room, one of my midwives jumped up off the couch and told me, “Okay. Get out of that bed.” It was our last shot to get this baby down and my body dilated, so we were going to give it everything we had. I tried so many positions– squatting on the floor, propping one leg up high on the bed and leaning back, swaying my hips back and forth, leaning on Cord, etc. It was painful, it was hard, but I tried to keep going, even though all I really wanted at the moment was SLEEP. But I also really, REALLY wanted to get this baby out. And we needed to see some progress SOON.

Around 7:00 PM the doctor arrived. I had not progressed any more since last time, and as he spoke to us about the C-section I had to try so hard not to cry. Cord and I had discussed it, we and the midwives discussed it, and when the doctor talked to us we decided that maybe this was our last resort. I asked if maybe an epidural would help me get through the contractions and possibly buy us some more time in case things would begin to progress soon, but they said it could possibly slow labor down, and then it wouldn’t even guarantee anything would happen, and we’d still wind up getting the C-section. So that was opted out, and we made our decision.

I was scared to death but also very much relieved that it would all be over and we would have our precious baby in our arms very, very soon. It was almost too hard to believe. We were told that the surgery might only take about ten minutes once we got in there and they started. We were finally about to meet our baby girl!

Before being taken back to another room for surgery prep, everyone gathered around my bed in a circle, hand in hand, while Cord led us in prayer. It was a beautiful moment I will never forget, and I am so very thankful to have such great Christian midwives and family.

I knew God was with me every moment of that day, and I also knew that even though the way this birth was turning out was not the way I thought it was supposed to go, it must have been God’s will, because I’d been praying and praying that only what was best for our baby would happen. Maybe this wasn’t MY idea of the best birth, but it must have been the best birth for HER.

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At 7:26PM, after 13 hours of pitocin and lots of very hard contractions and doing everything we could possibly think of, our precious baby took her first breath. The doctor said, “You’ve got a big, healthy baby boy!” Then he just laughed and added, “My bad.” I’ll never forget hearing Eden Lily cry for the first time. I immediately started crying tears of joy. It was finally over. She was finally here! They cleaned her up and measured her — 9 lbs. 4 oz. and 21.5″! — and then, the moment I’d been waiting for: They placed her on my chest and she stopped crying instantly as I stroked her tiny face. I held her for a minute or two, and then she went to the nursery with Cord and one of the nurses. The surgeons sewed me back up and I was sent to a recovery room to wait for my little girl. I finally got to hold her close, but the anesthetic had made me sick so I didn’t get to hold her for long until the nausea went away. She did get to nurse for a bit, though, and that has gone smoothly ever since the beginning. (Don’t believe it when someone tells you having a C-section can interfere with mother-baby bonding or nursing. It doesn’t.)

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We finally made it back to our room at almost midnight that night, and we had our baby all to ourselves. She was so precious, so perfect, and she was ours.

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Recovery was not easy, and for over a month I had trouble walking on my own, and my incision got infected, but all that is over and every bit of the pain was so worth it and I’d do it again if I had to. Our little Eden Lily is such a sweet bundle of joy, and we’re so thankful to God for the wonderful care given to us both by the midwives, nurses, and doctors. The birth may not have gone the way we expected, but it went exactly how it needed to. I’m just so grateful our baby is here and healthy, no matter how late she came or how she got here.

And that’s our story! Thanks so much for spending your time reading.

What are some things about your birth(s) that you are grateful for? Did it go exactly according to “plan”? What are some things you would have done differently, if given the chance?

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Eden Lily — 3 Months

Have a blessed day!
~Courtney

Waiting

Yesterday I was going through my old blog posts on the old blog site, and I came across two articles I’d posted about working on my patience.

Apparently I’ve always struggled with this.

I’m a hurry-it-along type of girl who loves for everything to happen ON TIME in the RIGHT WAY. I make lists every day, hate being late, and when things go smoothly with no mess it makes me SO happy.

But things don’t always get done like I plan, sometimes I’m late, and sometimes things definitely do not go like I expected them to.

Some of you may know I’m “overdue” to have my baby. Her expected due date was over a week ago, and although I never once expected her to come early or even on the date my pregnancy app insists she was supposed to make her grand appearance, it still is a bit disappointing that she isn’t here for me to goo-goo and and stare at yet.

I halfway expected her to be born sometime last week. I slightly expected to have her in my arms and not my belly by now. But she was not, and she is not. She is still comfortably curled up inside me, making the whole world (it seems) wait… and wait… and wait for her birth day. I’m totally okay with her taking her time. If she needs these extra days to grow out her lovely fingernails and hair (if she’s got any locks to show), fine. I love having her so close to me 24/7. It’s the most precious feeling ever, and I’m soaking up these last moments, days, and weeks of having her there.

BUT sometimes the waiting gets hard. And I know many women who went waaaaay over their “due dates,” and I tell myself that it’s completely normal. Because I know it is. Some babies take longer than others, and I suspect some just enjoy the perfect dark, quiet, and warmth that they can only get while in the womb. And I get that. I’m not sure I’d want to leave either, with it being so cold and wet outside these days.

So. Back to what I was saying earlier about those two older posts. In one of the articles I quoted a poem by an unknown author. It speaks of learning patience because God sees fit that we sometimes need a good lesson on it (which I’m sure I must be getting now). And it’s SO good. I encourage you to read it, and I’ll stop my rambling now.

Desperately, helplessly, longingly, I cried; 
Quietly, patiently, lovingly, God replied. 
I pleaded and I wept for a clue to my fate,
And the Master so gently said, “Wait.” 

“Wait? You say ‘wait’?” my indignant reply. 
“Lord, I need answers, I need to know why! 
Is your hand shortened? Or have You not heard? 
By faith I have asked, and I’m claiming Your Word. 

“My future and all to which I relate 
Hangs in the balance, and You tell me to wait? 
I’m needing a ‘yes’, a go-ahead sign, 
Or even a ‘no’ to which I can resign. 

“You promised, dear Lord, that if we believe, 
We need but to ask, and we shall receive. 
And Lord, I’ve been asking, and this is my cry: 
I’m weary of asking! I need a reply.” 

Then quietly, softly, I learned of my fate, 
As my Master replied again, “Wait.” 
So I slumped in my chair, defeated and taut, 
And grumbled to God, “So, I’m waiting for what?” 

He seemed then to kneel, and His eyes met with mine, 
And He tenderly said, “I could give you a sign. 
I could shake the heavens and darken the sun. 
I could raise the dead and cause mountains to run. 

“I could give all you seek and pleased you would be. 
 You’d have what you want, but you wouldn’t know Me. 
You’d not know the depth of My love for each saint. 
You’d not know the power that I give to the faint. 

“You’d not learn to see through clouds of despair; 
You’d not learn to trust just by knowing I’m there. 
You’d not know the joy of resting in Me 
When darkness and silence are all you can see. 

“You’d never experience the fullness of love 
When the peace of My spirit descends like a dove. 
You would know that I give, and I save, for a start, 
But you’d not know the depth of the beat of My heart. 

“The glow of my comfort late into the night, 
The faith that I give when you walk without sight. 
The depth that’s beyond getting just what you ask 
From an infinite God who makes what you have last. 

“You’d never know, should your pain quickly flee, 
What it means that My grace is sufficient for thee. 
Yes, your dearest dreams overnight would come true, 
But, oh, the loss, if you missed what I’m doing in you. 

“So, be silent, my child, and in time you will see 
That the greatest of gifts is to truly know Me. 
And though oft My answers seem terribly late, 
My most precious answer of all is still . . . Wait.”

Have a blessed day!

~Courtney

Letter to Baby


Dear Baby,

It won’t be long until we get to hold you in our arms! You’ll finally grace us with your presence which I know I don’t deserve but look forward to more than anything in this world. When you take your first breath of air, I know it will simply take mine away. I am in awe of the idea of having you as my own to love and cherish for the rest of my life, and I am so grateful for that opportunity.

I am praying for you every day. I pray that you are growing strong and healthy, and that I will be able to give you the physical needs you will have to have. I pray that God guides me in wisdom as I begin this journey of motherhood. I have much to learn, but with His always help I know I can be enough.

You are kicking more and more lately. I can tell you’re getting much bigger, because it seems as though you’re really beginning to run out of room in there! You seem to enjoy kicking into my right side and snuggling what I assume is your head or bottom into the left side by my belly button. It is the sweetest thing in this world.

I have to admit, I am going to miss having you so close 24/7. You are quickly outgrowing my womb, and someday you’ll outgrow my lap, but darling, you will never outgrow my heart. I feel as though my heart has continued to expand since I found out about you. I did not know so much love was possible, but it most assuredly IS.

It is only a little over 6 weeks until your expected arrival. Whether you come on the “due date” or not, it won’t be much longer now. I am eagerly anticipating the day of your birth, and I am beyond excited.

Keep kicking, Half-Pint! Momma loves you.

8 Ways to Deal with Swelling During Pregnancy


At nearly 32 weeks, my pregnancy so far has been absolutely wonderful.

But there is one this one thing that has been driving me crazy the last few weeks:

Swollen feet, ankles, and hands.

Before I really even noticed a whole lot of swelling, my wedding rings just got too tight to wear comfortably anymore, so I quit wearing them. Then not long after that, I began seeing that my feet were a little puffy. They eventually got to where they were tingly and sometimes they would hurt as soon as I got up and they hit the floor in the mornings, and then the swelling gets worse by nighttime.

I looked up different ways to deal with or prevent it, and I also talked to my midwife about it, who gave me some great advice on what to do. The down side I soon found out, unfortunately, is that you can’t completely avoid the swelling altogether (as it is a normal part of pregnancy), but it most certainly can be well managed!

When you’re pregnant, your body retains more water than it did before, therefore resulting in swelling. Your blood chemistry is also changing, which can cause fluid to shift to the tissue. And your ever-growing uterus can also press down on veins in the pelvic area, causing blood to pool in the legs, which makes it harder for the blood to make its way back up to the heart.

Here are 8 simple ways to do deal with all that:

1. Drink LOTS of water. Everyone should drink at least 8 (8 oz.) glasses of water a day, but during pregnancy this is even more important, and you need to drink even more. Now, for those of us who didn’t drink a whole lot of water to begin with, this sounds exhausting. But the more you drink, I have found, the more you will crave, which is good, because you really, really need to drink water for that precious baby and your growing self these days. A good rule of thumb is to drink half of your weight in ounces of water daily. (Does that make any sense?) So, if someone weighs 100 pounds, they should be drinking 50 ounces of water, which is a little over 6 8-ounce glasses per day. (I say 100 pounds merely as a simple example, because I stink at math and my brain doesn’t cooperate these days anyway.)

2. Nightly soaks in Epsom salt baths. My midwife told me this is a great way to get rid of extra fluids/swelling, but I’ve yet to take the time to do it. (Silly me.) Fill the tub with nice, warm water and pour in some Epsom salt and then soak a good while in the evenings. Have a glass of water near you to sip on while you’re soaking, so you stay hydrated while all that fluid is being pulled from your body.

3. Eat 2 lemons every day. Obviously you may not be able to straight up eat a lemon like you would an orange, but squeezing it into your water throughout the day is the best way to get it. Lemons are great for reducing swelling, and are beneficial in many other ways as well, so make sure you get your daily 2 lemons and you’ll be feeling grrrreat!

4. Elevate your feet. When sitting, prop your feet up on a coffee table or ottoman or pillows, at least level to (or higher than, if possible) your hips. Higher than or level to your heart is even better, so try to lie down somewhere and prop your feet up then. (You need the rest anyway, Momma!) And another thing (which I’m still trying to learn) is to not cross your legs or ankles while sitting. This doesn’t help with your circulation at all, so just drop the habit, at least for now, no matter how unladylike it may make you feel.

5. Foot rubs! If your husband is sweet enough to do this for you, LET HIM. It helps with circulation and so will obviously make you feel so much better. A good time to do this would be just before bedtime, and you’ll sleep better too. Try rubbing in some lavender or Young Living’s Gentle Baby at the same time and you’ll be even more relaxed.

6. Don’t sit all the time. If you sit a lot during the day, try getting up at least every hour or so to get your blood circulating again. And every little while, when sitting, flex or stretch your feet and calves to keep it up. (Regular exercise helps a lot too, of course!)

7. Avoid tight socks and shoes. This one’s pretty self-explanatory. Who wants to wear anything tight when your feet hurt? Not me! I prefer going barefoot 24/7, but there are times when one must where shoes. Just make sure your socks and shoes aren’t squeezing your feet, and you should be good.

8. Sleep on your left side. This is another thing I heard would help with circulation, because apparently the left side is best for lying on when you’re pregnant. I personally always prefer my right side or belly, so this has been a hard transition. You don’t have to sleep on your left side all the time, but it evidently helps.

And there you have it! I hope if you’re struggling with swelling during your pregnancy that these few tips help!

(Remember, if you’re having an excessive amount of swelling, it’s best to speak to your midwife or doctor, as it could mean something more serious than just the normal pregnancy swelling.)

Have a great day!
~Courtney

Oh, Baby! | Second Trimester Update

Some amazing things have happened over the past few weeks. We recently had our first ultrasound of Baby Haynes and got to see that sweet face and those precious little hands and feet! I thought hearing the heartbeat was amazing, which it is, but this? This was the best thing I’ve ever experienced. We now have little black and white pictures of our sweet child.


I’m finally now feeling those sweet little flutters and nudges from the baby, and that just makes me smile from ear to ear! At night when I’m lying real still in bed is when I feel it the most, and it is so wonderful knowing that that is our little baby in there moving around, growing up to be big enough to enter into this world one day soon. I look forward to when the movements are stronger and my husband gets to experience these little nudges as well.

I’m 19½ weeks along today, and it doesn’t seem like we can already be nearly halfway through. I know the next months will consist of a lot of changes and growth (for both Baby and me) and that excites me. (Pretty much everything excites me lately.)

Baby Haynes is now about the size of an heirloom tomato and weighs close to 9 ounces, is around 6 inches long (head to rump), and he or she can probably hear my voice now. (AWWWWWW!)
As far as cravings and morning sickness go, since about the 10th week I haven’t even been queasy except for a few days when I had a head cold, and I am not really craving anything specific lately. I’ve started drinking a little bit of coffee some mornings, just enough to get that amazing taste and to boost my energy at the start of my busy day. Sleep would be nice to have, but weird dreams keep me tossing and turning at night and then we’re up with the sun every morning and going at it all day ’til sometimes late at night. (But hey, there’s always the weekend to get an extra couple hours of sleep time, right? Sometimes.)

I mentioned earlier that we had an ultrasound. We thought we’d be able to find out the gender of our baby, but they could only give us a good guess, so… yep, we’re going back for another look. I guess stubbornness runs in the family. Hehe.

I’m so thankful for my herbs! Every day I’m taking my prenatal vitamins, DHA, Young Living Ninxia Red (which is AMAZING for energy!), and a couple other things. Some days it feels like a handful of pills and a glass of water is my breakfast, but throw in a smoothie or a bowl of cereal and I’m set.

Well, I guess that’s it for now. All that rambling, but to put it frankly: we’re super happy for this child and so thankful God chose us to be the parents. I pray that all goes smoothly and that we have a healthy baby, whether boy or girl (because the gender doesn’t matter one bit). If you’ve read this far, then WOW. Thanks for taking the time to peek a little into our journey with this precious new growing addition to our family!


“Great are the works of the LORD; they are studied by all who delight in them. Splendid and majestic is His work, and His righteousness endures forever.” (Psalm 111:2-3 NASB)

Until next time,

Courtney