Just trying to figure out video posting. Let's see how this works... :)
Tuesday, January 14, 2014
What's in a Name?
Naming one's baby is a big deal and it's a detail that's often glossed over in the hustling of baby preparation. When we were discussing names before John Isaac was born, I poured over blogs and thought back through my life of everyone who had made an impact on it, for better or worse.
There were some names that were eliminated from each of us right away for various reasons: names of people who had hurt us, names of those who carry negative recognition from everyone (Hitler, anyone?) and trendier names in Hollywood that seem more like places and objects than people (North, Apple, etc.).
Mike and I knew from the beginning that there was one name we'd definitely use: John. This name is one that spans generations on both sides of our family. Mike is a John. His first name is John, but he goes by his middle name, Michael. Both of our fathers are Johns and both of their fathers were Johns. AND both of their fathers were Johns. So, you see, we almost had to go with John. We had four generations counting on us!
The second name was a bit tougher for us. It wasn't until I was 18 weeks pregnant that the name began to emerge.
Mike and I went for John Isaac's 18-week anatomy scan. It was an exciting time and was the first time we had a more detailed glimpse of the hidden wonder developing inside of me. At the anatomy scan, the technician takes still pictures and measurements of all the major organs, the head and belly, and looks to make sure all hands, feet, fingers and toes are accounted for. After the pictures are taken, they are given to a doctor who translates the scans and interprets the results. The second step takes usually two to three days after the initial scan is done.
Mike and I had such a blast at the anatomy scan. It was amazing to see our precious baby moving around and to hear (and see) his heart beating. He looked beautiful and it didn't take expert eyes to see that.
A few days later we went to the doctor to have the results of the scan given to us. Our obstetrician told us that his measurements were right on track. His head and belly were measuring as they should. My measurements were equally on track and a healthy amount of amniotic fluid was in place. Awesome!! Then the doctor dropped some other news. There was a concern. The baby had 2-3 CPCs (choroid plexus cysts) in his brain.
Uh, what?? Time seemed to stand still as she explained the nature of the findings. CPCs, she said, could be benign and would likely disappear OR they could be indicators for other chromosome abnormalities. Of which the likeliness of our baby surviving outside the womb were in the 1-3% and IF it survived it wouldn't live but for a few days.
Uhhh...what???? The best course of action, she suggested, was to have a genetic test done. The test would help to rule out the chromosome abnormalities and give us peace of mind.
Early in our pregnancy journey, Mike and I had decided that I wouldn't get a genetic test. It seemed like an added expense when we knew that regardless of its results we would still carry our baby to term. We believe that every baby is a gift from God and we knew that if we had the test done and it concluded our baby had "issues" we would still want to carry it.
So, here we were at 18 weeks and being faced with the question again: did we want a genetic test done? This time the question was framed for us differently. If we had the test done and it came back with a high likeliness of our baby having a chromosome issue then it would alter how the baby may be delivered. For that reason, we decided to have the test done.
The test was easy enough- just a few blood samples were taken. The wait was the hard part. Ten days.
Ten days of wondering, questioning and pouring out prayers. Prayers filled with petitions for our baby and for us.
It was on the first or second night that the name Isaac emerged. In a state of prayer, I recalled the story of Abraham and Isaac in the Bible. It's a story that had stuck with me, but now that I was a parent, carrying a precious and innocent baby, the story was that much harder for me to read. I read over the verses and sobbed as I thought of Abraham climbing the mountain and facing what God had asked of him while he kept looking over at his sweet son. Did he see his son differently than any moment before then? Did Abraham notice the sparkle in Isaac's eye or hear his laugh like never before? Or perhaps he was remembering other moments in Isaac's life: his birth, his first giggle and his tenuous first steps.
Although our circumstance was not the exact same as Abraham's, it felt like Mike and I had been asked of God to trust Him. Give up our child and let Him have it. It felt like we were being asked to give up our Isaac.
So we did. The morning after my epiphany and time with God, I told Mike about it. I reminded him of Abraham's plight and the parallels I had drawn in our own waiting. From then on, it seemed that we prayed differently because the situation had been re-framed. God had us (all three of us) in His hands and He wanted to show us what he could do. He wanted us to trust Him. And we did.
Ten days later the results of the test were in: our child did NOT have the chromosome abnormalities that are often times associated with CPCs. He likely would have no permanent issues from the CPCs they had seen on the scan.
Mike and I were relieved and thankful. Our ram had been delivered. We would not have to sacrifice our Isaac; God had other plans.
After that, there was no better name than Isaac for our dear son. It would be a reminder of God's faithfulness and just a small way to thank Him for it.
So, there we go. Our sweet John Isaac has been given his name. Now comes the fun part: seeing what he does with it.
There were some names that were eliminated from each of us right away for various reasons: names of people who had hurt us, names of those who carry negative recognition from everyone (Hitler, anyone?) and trendier names in Hollywood that seem more like places and objects than people (North, Apple, etc.).
Mike and I knew from the beginning that there was one name we'd definitely use: John. This name is one that spans generations on both sides of our family. Mike is a John. His first name is John, but he goes by his middle name, Michael. Both of our fathers are Johns and both of their fathers were Johns. AND both of their fathers were Johns. So, you see, we almost had to go with John. We had four generations counting on us!
The second name was a bit tougher for us. It wasn't until I was 18 weeks pregnant that the name began to emerge.
Mike and I went for John Isaac's 18-week anatomy scan. It was an exciting time and was the first time we had a more detailed glimpse of the hidden wonder developing inside of me. At the anatomy scan, the technician takes still pictures and measurements of all the major organs, the head and belly, and looks to make sure all hands, feet, fingers and toes are accounted for. After the pictures are taken, they are given to a doctor who translates the scans and interprets the results. The second step takes usually two to three days after the initial scan is done.
Mike and I had such a blast at the anatomy scan. It was amazing to see our precious baby moving around and to hear (and see) his heart beating. He looked beautiful and it didn't take expert eyes to see that.
A few days later we went to the doctor to have the results of the scan given to us. Our obstetrician told us that his measurements were right on track. His head and belly were measuring as they should. My measurements were equally on track and a healthy amount of amniotic fluid was in place. Awesome!! Then the doctor dropped some other news. There was a concern. The baby had 2-3 CPCs (choroid plexus cysts) in his brain.
Uh, what?? Time seemed to stand still as she explained the nature of the findings. CPCs, she said, could be benign and would likely disappear OR they could be indicators for other chromosome abnormalities. Of which the likeliness of our baby surviving outside the womb were in the 1-3% and IF it survived it wouldn't live but for a few days.
Uhhh...what???? The best course of action, she suggested, was to have a genetic test done. The test would help to rule out the chromosome abnormalities and give us peace of mind.
Early in our pregnancy journey, Mike and I had decided that I wouldn't get a genetic test. It seemed like an added expense when we knew that regardless of its results we would still carry our baby to term. We believe that every baby is a gift from God and we knew that if we had the test done and it concluded our baby had "issues" we would still want to carry it.
So, here we were at 18 weeks and being faced with the question again: did we want a genetic test done? This time the question was framed for us differently. If we had the test done and it came back with a high likeliness of our baby having a chromosome issue then it would alter how the baby may be delivered. For that reason, we decided to have the test done.
The test was easy enough- just a few blood samples were taken. The wait was the hard part. Ten days.
Ten days of wondering, questioning and pouring out prayers. Prayers filled with petitions for our baby and for us.
It was on the first or second night that the name Isaac emerged. In a state of prayer, I recalled the story of Abraham and Isaac in the Bible. It's a story that had stuck with me, but now that I was a parent, carrying a precious and innocent baby, the story was that much harder for me to read. I read over the verses and sobbed as I thought of Abraham climbing the mountain and facing what God had asked of him while he kept looking over at his sweet son. Did he see his son differently than any moment before then? Did Abraham notice the sparkle in Isaac's eye or hear his laugh like never before? Or perhaps he was remembering other moments in Isaac's life: his birth, his first giggle and his tenuous first steps.
Although our circumstance was not the exact same as Abraham's, it felt like Mike and I had been asked of God to trust Him. Give up our child and let Him have it. It felt like we were being asked to give up our Isaac.
So we did. The morning after my epiphany and time with God, I told Mike about it. I reminded him of Abraham's plight and the parallels I had drawn in our own waiting. From then on, it seemed that we prayed differently because the situation had been re-framed. God had us (all three of us) in His hands and He wanted to show us what he could do. He wanted us to trust Him. And we did.
Ten days later the results of the test were in: our child did NOT have the chromosome abnormalities that are often times associated with CPCs. He likely would have no permanent issues from the CPCs they had seen on the scan.
Mike and I were relieved and thankful. Our ram had been delivered. We would not have to sacrifice our Isaac; God had other plans.
After that, there was no better name than Isaac for our dear son. It would be a reminder of God's faithfulness and just a small way to thank Him for it.
So, there we go. Our sweet John Isaac has been given his name. Now comes the fun part: seeing what he does with it.
Thursday, January 02, 2014
A Pampers Christmas Story
A true Christmas story that I shared with Pampers. The email I sent is pasted below:
As new parents to a two month old boy, my husband and I have been avid users of Pampers since we were first introduced to them in the hospital. We love the quality of your product! Recently, we had an incident that confirmed just how consistent that quality is.
We were visiting my husband's family on Christmas. It was the last stop after a long day of traveling. We had just arrived after being four hours in the car. I picked up my son, Isaac, and his diaper bag so I could change him. When I looked in the bag, there were no more Pampers- we had failed to restock the bag!! Normally, this would be no big deal. We'd just hop in the car and ride down to the store to get more, but this was Christmas. NO stores were open.
My brain began to race. What would MacGyver do? I began to think... washcloths, duct tape, safety pins... Thankfully my dear mother-in-law was standing right there and knew what to do.
"I have some of Michael's (my husband) old Pampers. Could you use them?" she asked. For a second I thought she was kidding. My husband is 33 years old. Who keeps diapers that long? I could tell from her face that she was serious and using 33-year-old Pampers seemed like a much better idea than duct tape.
I followed her to her room where she pulled a box from her closet. It was a "memory box" of sorts that contained old photos of my husband, his toys and Pampers! In the box were five unused Pampers.
We grabbed one of the diapers and took it to my husband. If Isaac was going to wear his 33-year-old diapers, I thought there would be no better photo on Christmas than one of my husband changing his son into my hubby's old diapers! (note: there were other "better" photos that day, but this was definitely one that made the list)
To my surprise, the diaper itself was in great shape. The adhesive was still sticky after all that time! Isaac wore that diaper and one more before we left later that night to head home (where our supply of 2013 diapers were).
I learned two lessons that day: 1) Pampers made and still makes a high quality diaper. 2) It's not such a bad idea to keep diapers in that memory box I am making for Isaac.
Thanks, Pampers, for caring about babies old and new throughout the years! You have some true believers when it comes to my family.
As new parents to a two month old boy, my husband and I have been avid users of Pampers since we were first introduced to them in the hospital. We love the quality of your product! Recently, we had an incident that confirmed just how consistent that quality is.
We were visiting my husband's family on Christmas. It was the last stop after a long day of traveling. We had just arrived after being four hours in the car. I picked up my son, Isaac, and his diaper bag so I could change him. When I looked in the bag, there were no more Pampers- we had failed to restock the bag!! Normally, this would be no big deal. We'd just hop in the car and ride down to the store to get more, but this was Christmas. NO stores were open.
My brain began to race. What would MacGyver do? I began to think... washcloths, duct tape, safety pins... Thankfully my dear mother-in-law was standing right there and knew what to do.
"I have some of Michael's (my husband) old Pampers. Could you use them?" she asked. For a second I thought she was kidding. My husband is 33 years old. Who keeps diapers that long? I could tell from her face that she was serious and using 33-year-old Pampers seemed like a much better idea than duct tape.
I followed her to her room where she pulled a box from her closet. It was a "memory box" of sorts that contained old photos of my husband, his toys and Pampers! In the box were five unused Pampers.
We grabbed one of the diapers and took it to my husband. If Isaac was going to wear his 33-year-old diapers, I thought there would be no better photo on Christmas than one of my husband changing his son into my hubby's old diapers! (note: there were other "better" photos that day, but this was definitely one that made the list)
To my surprise, the diaper itself was in great shape. The adhesive was still sticky after all that time! Isaac wore that diaper and one more before we left later that night to head home (where our supply of 2013 diapers were).
I learned two lessons that day: 1) Pampers made and still makes a high quality diaper. 2) It's not such a bad idea to keep diapers in that memory box I am making for Isaac.
Thanks, Pampers, for caring about babies old and new throughout the years! You have some true believers when it comes to my family.
 |
| Michael taking off Isaac's 2013 diaper. |
 |
| Putting on the diaper from 1980/81 |
 |
| The wise mother-in-law and Isaac! |
 |
| Are there Pampers in the stocking?? |
 |
| If only Pampers cost $1! |
Monday, December 30, 2013
A Ring for Rose and Blanket for Isaac
The Story of Two Heirlooms and the Love that Unites Them
Author's Note: This story was written in hopes that someone has information about Rose's ring and can help reunite the ring with Rose. The ring was last seen in Fayetteville, NC. Please see contact information and other details at the bottom of the story if you can help solve this mystery. Please help a New Year's wish come true by helping us find Rose's ring!
Each heirloom has a story, many of which are lost as the members of their story pass away or details go unshared. Many heirlooms lose their luster or are unappreciated by the next generation and become just items, story-less and forgotten. The following is the tale of two heirlooms, one old and one new, one lost and one used daily. They are united by love, common ancestry and a story for the ages. Here is their story.
A retired Army Command Sergeant Major visited his father while he was sick. Before leaving, his father walked him to his room where he pulled a small box from his dresser drawer. In it, he explained to Vernon, was a ring that had been gifted to him many years prior. Vernon's father knew that his time was short and wanted Vernon to have the ring while he was still alive.
Vernon took the box from his father and opened it. Inside was a ring more ornate than he himself would ever wear, but one that he had seen on the hand of his father many years earlier. It was gold with three diamonds, two smaller ones that flanked a center stone. They shone with brilliance and Vernon pondered the gift while reminiscing about the man who once wore it.
Vernon took the ring home and placed in his own drawer. It was a ring that was not one he could personally see himself wearing. He lived simply, occupied by other thoughts not concerning jewelry. He had a troop of men to lead, a young wife to support and three children. Perhaps he would give it to his own son one day. Until then, he thought, it would remain tucked away and saved for an occasion worth sharing.
Years passed. Vernon had served in three wars: Korea, World War II and Vietnam. His wife, Rose, had borne him another child, bringing their brood to a total of four with two girls and two boys. Their love story was one for the movies. Meeting at a young age, Vernon and Rose married when he was only 20 and she 16. They basically raised each other and after years of loving one another, had expanded their family to four children, their spouses and five grandchildren. They'd created a home full of joy and packed with memories.
As their fortieth anniversary approached, Vernon pondered what he could give his precious Rose. She'd helped him raise their children during trying times. They'd lived throughout the world during his tenure with the Army and she was a woman who wasn't concerned with treasures or trinkets. Rather, she loved genuinely and simply. She regarded her role as a wife and mother to be her calling and was happy. To her, being his wife was more than enough. Still, he wanted to give her something of beauty that he felt would reflect her own.
The ring. He remembered it and the man who had worn it. What better way to show love than to give his Rose a ring that was his own father's? So Vernon took the gentleman's ring and had it remade into items worthy of his wife's wearing. He had the gold melted down into a band of her size and into earrings. The center diamond was placed on the new, delicate ring and the two diamonds that had once flanked the central one were added to the earrings. It was a three-piece set that would mark their years together. Vernon presented his wife with the ring and earrings on their fortieth anniversary. She treasured them not because of their value, but because of their journey and what they had meant to her father-in-law and husband.
Rose wore the ring from that day forward. It became a new symbol of their marriage and the love they had shared for so long. It was something that she knew she would give to one of her daughters or perhaps a grand-daughter when the time came for someone else to wear it. Until then, it remained on her finger.
Years passed and Rose's hands have become worn, as has her ring. The hands have comforted crying grandchildren, played keys on her piano, washed countless dishes, sewn clothes and scarves, baked delicious meals and held the hand of her dear Vernon when he passed at 80 years old after a year-long fight with leukemia.
Always thinking of family, Rose was excited when she received news that her oldest grand-daughter was pregnant with her first child. A new great-grand baby would be joining the brood! In true form, Rose began making a gift for her littlest one before he was born. What better way to snuggle him than with blankets? So she began making him three receiving blankets and a quilt for him. She picked out the material and took it home to sew into items that would keep him warm and comforted.
That evening she reached to remove her ring from Vernon, which she did nightly before going to bed. It was gone and she realized that in her shopping that day, while thumbing through all the fabric and material, it must have slipped off her finger. It had become loose through the years and she hadn't had it re-sized since the day he gave it to her 25 years prior. After checking her house, calling the stores where she had been and searching anywhere the ring could be, Rose gave up her quest to find it. After mourning her loss, she vowed to press forward and treasure the memories rather than what had represented them.
She poured herself into her project for her new great-grand baby and hoped to give him something that would be a gift he'd appreciate and love. Before he was born, she completed the blankets and gifted them to him at his baby shower.
A month later, Isaac was born. He was her first great-grandson and Rose was ecstatic. As she held him close to her, he snuggled into her and the blanket she had made him. Who would have thought that the16 year old girl who married Vernon and held his hand when saying their vows would one day be holding his great-grandson when she was 82?
Rose looked at her precious legacy in his new blanket. Isaac would never see the ring she'd worn while raising his grandmother and tending to his mother as a child, but he would hear of it. It was the ring she wore and lost while searching for the perfect material to make his blankets. It was the ring worn by his great-great grandfather and passed to his great-grandfather. It was one given as a symbol of a lasting marriage on a fortieth anniversary. It was an heirloom lost that would be forever joined through love and story with his blankets. Blankets that, with care and protection, will become heirlooms of their own. For now, however, they are enough for Isaac. And perhaps (one day) for Isaac's own great-great grandson.
 |
| Rose and Isaac- meeting in the hospital on his birthday |
 |
| Rose and Isaac: he's snuggled into her and one of her blankets |
 | ||
| Isaac in another of Rose's blankets |
 |
| Isaac wrapped in his home-made blanket. Dreaming of his great-grandma? |
Want to know more about the man, Vernon, who gave Rose her ring? Check out this post that the author wrote after her grandfather passed in 2007.
Sunday, September 15, 2013
A Productive Week
The week has been full of productivity and learning!
Mike and I began the week by attending our first (of five) childbirth and baby classes. The classes are conducted by our care provider and held for two hours each Monday night. I think that Mike believes I am torturing him by making him go, but we both did learn some facts the first night. Plus, it was fun to gather with about ten other couples to talk baby shop, most of whom are first-timers like us. The class is taught by a registered nurse and covers many basics from the anatomy of a pregnant woman to postpartum care for mom and baby. This past week we spent time doing ice breakers, talking pregnancy body changes and watching a short film of a woman delivering a baby. Both Mike and I concluded that the placenta looks more like The Blob than we expected.
I attended my first prenatal yoga class this week, which was interesting. I have taken a couple yoga classes, but never a prenatal one. I believe the class will be beneficial in terms of learning breathing and relaxation techniques. Although, I'm not sure how great of a student I am. At the end of the class, each of us got into a "relaxing" position in which we were supposed to just let our minds relax and kind of "center" ourselves. We did this for about 12-15 minutes. About five minutes in I was wondering how much longer I had to lie there and if it would be weird of me to start packing up my stuff. I guess I still have much to learn!
Mike and I are still laying down hardwood floors in our house. Our project is about halfway done; the whole upstairs is complete and we began the main (and final) level this week. When it's the two of us, I help by picking out and laying down the boards while he goes behind me with the stapler or nail gun. This weekend I learned how to operate the chop saw which was pretty exciting. It was kind of intimidating, but I learned that it's actually a safer saw to use (compared to some others). This week the two of us laid down the floors in our dining room and are creeping into the living room domain with the boards now.
On Saturday, Mike shot and killed a buck with his bow for the first time. That was very exciting!! He's been bow hunting for years, but has never gotten one until this weekend. So, needless to say we celebrated with some venison filets for dinner that night! Tonight he showed me how to butcher the deer, so we've spent the majority of our evening slicing, grinding and packing venison for our freezer. It's a lot of work, but very worth it to have fresh, organic meat that's free. Sure beats spending money at the grocery store for a similar-in-quality product.
This afternoon after church we spent a couple hours in the yard, which had been seriously ignored since the beginning of our flooring project. Mike mowed the grass and trimmed the bushes. I picked up the trimmings and collected the ripe Thai chilies off our seven plants. I think there were hundreds of them. Mike dries and grinds them so we can put them in shakers for use through the year.
In terms of my pregnancy, I've competed 33 weeks and launched into week 34 two days ago. It's hard to believe that we are less than seven weeks from the ideal full term time of 40 weeks. Considering babies are called "full term" at week 38, we are almost just a month away from that. Kind of crazy!! I am beginning to feel more of the not-so-fun feelings of the third trimester. It doesn't take much for my back to be sore (just standing too long these days seems to do it) and I have given up any hope of sleeping comfortably on my back. I'm now just a side-sleeper and even then I have to change sides at least twice an hour. Poor Mike... I don't think he's sleeping as good these days either just because I'm moving so much in the night. I get short-winded pretty easily and am generally feeling like this baby is not a good sharer anymore. We are each fighting for space in my mid section and baby (as small as s/he is) seems to be winning. Dolp! Still, I'm thankful for every moment of this journey.
Mike and I began the week by attending our first (of five) childbirth and baby classes. The classes are conducted by our care provider and held for two hours each Monday night. I think that Mike believes I am torturing him by making him go, but we both did learn some facts the first night. Plus, it was fun to gather with about ten other couples to talk baby shop, most of whom are first-timers like us. The class is taught by a registered nurse and covers many basics from the anatomy of a pregnant woman to postpartum care for mom and baby. This past week we spent time doing ice breakers, talking pregnancy body changes and watching a short film of a woman delivering a baby. Both Mike and I concluded that the placenta looks more like The Blob than we expected.
I attended my first prenatal yoga class this week, which was interesting. I have taken a couple yoga classes, but never a prenatal one. I believe the class will be beneficial in terms of learning breathing and relaxation techniques. Although, I'm not sure how great of a student I am. At the end of the class, each of us got into a "relaxing" position in which we were supposed to just let our minds relax and kind of "center" ourselves. We did this for about 12-15 minutes. About five minutes in I was wondering how much longer I had to lie there and if it would be weird of me to start packing up my stuff. I guess I still have much to learn!
Mike and I are still laying down hardwood floors in our house. Our project is about halfway done; the whole upstairs is complete and we began the main (and final) level this week. When it's the two of us, I help by picking out and laying down the boards while he goes behind me with the stapler or nail gun. This weekend I learned how to operate the chop saw which was pretty exciting. It was kind of intimidating, but I learned that it's actually a safer saw to use (compared to some others). This week the two of us laid down the floors in our dining room and are creeping into the living room domain with the boards now.
On Saturday, Mike shot and killed a buck with his bow for the first time. That was very exciting!! He's been bow hunting for years, but has never gotten one until this weekend. So, needless to say we celebrated with some venison filets for dinner that night! Tonight he showed me how to butcher the deer, so we've spent the majority of our evening slicing, grinding and packing venison for our freezer. It's a lot of work, but very worth it to have fresh, organic meat that's free. Sure beats spending money at the grocery store for a similar-in-quality product.
This afternoon after church we spent a couple hours in the yard, which had been seriously ignored since the beginning of our flooring project. Mike mowed the grass and trimmed the bushes. I picked up the trimmings and collected the ripe Thai chilies off our seven plants. I think there were hundreds of them. Mike dries and grinds them so we can put them in shakers for use through the year.
In terms of my pregnancy, I've competed 33 weeks and launched into week 34 two days ago. It's hard to believe that we are less than seven weeks from the ideal full term time of 40 weeks. Considering babies are called "full term" at week 38, we are almost just a month away from that. Kind of crazy!! I am beginning to feel more of the not-so-fun feelings of the third trimester. It doesn't take much for my back to be sore (just standing too long these days seems to do it) and I have given up any hope of sleeping comfortably on my back. I'm now just a side-sleeper and even then I have to change sides at least twice an hour. Poor Mike... I don't think he's sleeping as good these days either just because I'm moving so much in the night. I get short-winded pretty easily and am generally feeling like this baby is not a good sharer anymore. We are each fighting for space in my mid section and baby (as small as s/he is) seems to be winning. Dolp! Still, I'm thankful for every moment of this journey.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)