Where Did May Go?

Which might be a silly question, given that it's already 10 days into June. (Isn't it? I just had to check a calendar to make sure). I feel like I have lost about three weeks somewhere and am running perpetually behind on what I need to get done.

Take last week, for example. It was Cub Scout Day Camp time here in the Peach household. This is our third year for day camp, and I always volunteer. This year, the camp was over 300 boys, and in my position, I see them all at least once during camp, and usually a few times apiece. Additionally, just for kicks, it was much hotter than it normally is the first week of June. Amazingly enough, this didn't bother the boys at all. Just the 'old folks' like me.

I kept thinking, for the last three weeks, that I still had plenty of time to prepare my materials. Until Memorial Day had been and gone, school was out, and my deadline was suddenly a few days away. The blessing is that I've had the same position for two years now, and I could coast a bit.

Was it worth it? Absolutely. In my experience, Scouts are one of the few organizations left that actively teaches noble character traits like cooperation, sportsmanship, responsibility, honesty, and respectfulness in a systematic way, and the success rate is pretty good, all things considered. A great example of that success rate is that there were probably 30-40 Boy Scouts, from 11 to 16 or 17 years old, who volunteered their time all week to help out with these younger boys. Just a great group of boys who, on the whole, were lacking the attitudes that are common at that age and were providing a great example to the younger boys.

Anyway, that's where we've been. This was the big boy's last year at day camp, and he's pretty sad about it. My last year, however, is a few years in the future -- little guy still has three years to go!

Unintentional Humor, Courtesy of the Big Boy

I had a lovely Mother's Day. Complete with presents, a custom-grilled lunch by Chef Hawkeye, and lots of love from my boys.

My favorite present? A book that Big Boy made at school. He didn't mean it to be funny. But oh, it is.

Top Ten Reasons Why I Love My Mom, by Big Boy

#1: Well, you're my mom! (translated: doesn't that mean I HAVE to love you?)
#2: Because you're preety (hee, hee!)
#3: You cook DELICIOUS meals (translated: hey, we gave you a new stockpot, can you finally make me some homemade chicken noodle soup?)
#4: You take me on trips
#5: You love me (this made me think of the Barney song)
#6: You get me presents
#7: You buy me books
#8: You buy me toys (perhaps he's a bit materialistic?)
#9: You don't homeschool me (this one really cracked me up, and he totally didn't get why. He's quite serious, and all I'm thinking is that he's thanking me for not cooping him up in the house with me all day. I have no idea where this came from -- I have two dear friends who homeschool, and it's not like we've ever discussed it. Oh, the workings of that boy's mind!)
#10: You are the best mommy you can be (or, you can't help it that you can't do any better, you're just doing your best with what you have, poor thing)

Ya'll. So funny. The last ten years have been lots of growing and stretching and worrying and praying and changing, but so fun. These boys of mine amaze me every day!

So, That's How I Learned I'm Not in Control. The End.

The big boy had a rough 3-4 months, but left the hospital healthy and hasn't looked back since.

So, for anyone who is uncertain of God's care and His mercy, I can tell you -- your child is so safe in His hands. The one who created that child and knew him before you did (see Psalm 139) loves him more than you are even capable of loving.

I find that so comforting. Especially when I am looking at a completely normal, wonderful 10-year-old boy who survived and has thrived, without any long-term disabilities from his prematurity. That's God's hand. I don't know why, or what God has planned for his future, but I know that He's the one who has gotten us this far, and He doesn't change.

That makes it easier to give Him control of our direction. I know, now, that He is who He says He is, and that He is so much more capable than I am. And I am being reminded by our new Bible study of Philippians that my purpose is to glorify Him in everything. So I will, today, choose to remember what He has done, and look forward to what He is doing and will do in the future.

This time ten years ago . . .

That afternoon, I started feeling labor pains again. The biggest problem was that the monitor wasn't picking them up (I'm not a tiny girl, and monitors aren't designed for women who are barely 24 weeks pregnant). So, none of us realized how much worse they were getting until later that afternoon. I had been given terbutaline sulfate all along, but it wasn't working, so they tried magnesium sulfate. That didn't work either. As the evening wore on, the pains seemed to be slowing down, so my mom went home. They hadn't slowed down enough, though. And then they were intensifying again, and the nurse couldn't get the big boy on the fetal monitor. That's when things got very hectic.

The hospital had sent in a nenonatologist (a doctor who specializes in treating premature infants) to talk to us. Her prognosis was: a) our son would not live; b)if he lived, he would be profoundly mentally handicapped for life; c) he would never walk or live a normal life. Now, it's their job to be cold-eyed realists, but wow. We were scared enough to begin with, and I'm not sure that was really helpful.

Anyway. When things got hectic, the doctor (whom I had never laid eyes on before) decided that he had to deliver the baby. Now. So, off we are racing to the delivery room. We make it to the elevator, he uses a key to call it, and they're rolling my bed into it. Only the bed doesn't fit. So, rolling the bed back out again and calling another elevator. When we get to the delivery room, the Hawkeye can't stay with me. I'm in hard labor and scared to death. When we get into the delivery room, all I remember is the anesthesiologist was very worried about his paperwork, and how he couldn't put me under without it. I really could have decked him, I think.

Anyway, it was an emergency c-section, and the Hawkeye says they had the Big Boy out in under a minute. They let the Hawkeye look at him briefly, then whisked this tiny, fragile little life (he weighed 1 lb, 9 ozs and was 12 inches long) off to the NICU. Thus began our lives as parents.

This picture is the Big Boy, right before he turned one year old.

He's 10 Today!

Ten years today, I was waking up in the hospital. About four days prior, I had been awakened from a deep sleep (all my sleep is deep, a family trait, I guess) by labor pains. I was 23 1/2 weeks pregnant, and scared to death. I woke up my husband, called my doctor, and we raced to the hospital (no mean feat in Atlanta when the hospital is 40 minutes away and involves travel on two different interstates).

When we got to the hospital, a nurse examined me. She must have the best poker face in all the world, because I had no idea anything was really wrong. She said she would get the doctor and left. Later, she said that she had felt a foot. Obviously that wasn't right, but again, I didn't know that yet. The doctor came in (not my doctor), examined me, and brutally informed us of a string of facts: 1. I would not be leaving the hospital until my baby was born, as the amniotic sac was bulging out and that was why I was having labor pains; 2. She was ordering a steroid shot (for the baby's lungs) and for me to be put on a negative incline (called Trendellenburg) in the bed to hopefully allow gravity to work with us; 3. She didn't have a lot of hope in all of this.

We were frantic. I cried a lot, my mom cried a lot, the Hawkeye just looked very stunned and tried to deal with the crying women.

So, this was how I found myself waking up in the hospital the morning of May 5. Just like every other morning up until then. I had no idea that Big Boy would be born that day. But God did. Nothing surprises him.

The Big Boy Turns Ten in a Week

Ten years ago today, I was a clueless woman. I was ecstatically, finally pregnant (not quite six months), my job was moderately stressful but involved lots of fun things, and I was planning. The nursery, staying home with my child, dinner, all of those important things. I really thought I had the world by the tail.

It's a funny thing. I can see now that it was a process, of God teaching me that I'm not in control and my life is more than safe in His hands, but at the time, I just didn't get it.

We had a hard time conceiving a child. As in, it just wasn't working for us, and we were going through all of the lovely, humiliating, letting-people-in-your-private-business stuff that is infertility testing and treatment. A process that, I'm well aware, can take even longer for some people, but for us it took about two years.

I struggled. Life had always happened on my timetable, and this just wasn't working out that way. I pleaded with God, I begged for direction, I tried to make bargains, and then. Finally. After much struggling and trying to do it my way. I really gave it to Him. I got on my face and told Him that I could even live with a 'no', if that was His answer. I just was at the end of my rope, unable to live with the uncertainty and living month-to-month that we were doing.

And then it happened. I took the eleven millionth pregnancy test of my life (I have a condition that makes the normal, oh-I'm-late indicators happen on a regular basis), and it was actually positive. So I made the Hawkeye go to the store with me to get another. Also positive. I was really sure that it was a mistake. But it wasn't. God had said yes. He had been waiting for me to learn my lesson and finally give Him total control over the whole thing.

So. I was pregnant. I went into full-control-freak mode on the pregnancy. The doctor says no caffeine? Okay. More fruits and vegetables? Check. Lots of milk? Got it. I think if the doctor had said I couldn't breathe the air, I would have found a way to have done that, too. I never really had morning sickness (made up for that with younger son), and I really felt pretty good. All systems go. I had it all handled.

And then God got my attention again. To be continued . . .

Happy Earth Day!

Although I'm not a vegetarian or otherwise wholeheartedly committed to the green earth movement, I do believe in being a wise steward of resources. As a result, we recycle in the Volunteer Peach household and try to reuse and conserve what we can. An increasingly difficult task with the boys who love playing in the water whenever they turn it on. So, here are some of the things we have adopted:

1. Recycling -- the Hawkeye bought three identical kitchen trash cans, which now live under our breakfast bar. They house paper, cardboard and plastic. Try this for a week -- you will be amazed how much packaging you throw away! We also recycle aluminum as we have it, which is rare, because we're mostly water drinkers here - our refrigerator has a built-in filter, so we drink tap water.

2. Water -- I have a kitchen timer in the boys' bathroom, and they have to set it every time they take a shower. This originally came about when I figured out they just sat down in the shower and waited for the hot water to run out! They get between 5-7 minutes in the shower. I also do my best not to run the dishwasher or wash clothes unless it is a full load.

3. Gas! -- this is more for frugality than anything else, but the Hawkeye is making many more trips on the way home from work (saving me at least 30 miles roundtrip) to pick up things. He is also looking into carpooling for his 35-mile one-way commute.

So, nothing really earth-shattering, but it makes me feel like we are better stewards, which the Lord expects of us. We're planting a garden this year and looking at purchasing some produce from the farm up the road, which also participates in a CSA (community-supported agriculture) program. The Hawkeye would like to get chickens and maybe a cow, but not so much for me!