on perception--an entry for the sakura bloom sling diaries

We’re changing. All of us.

I walk through emerald grass dotted with fallen oak leaves; summer visually tangling with autumn. My oldest marches about with enviable, three-year old confidence. His sister is slung securely to my chest, watching from her safe perch; our little bird always peering out.

I realize how fitting it is that as we wander underneath these old trees preparing for Fall, I can see how much change we’re also experiencing.

My boy is shedding his babyhood faster each day.  

My littlest is growing into herself, becoming her own person.

And me? Let’s just say I’m not the person I thought I’d be by now.

Change has a way of upending our approach to life. And as much as I resist the idea, it isn’t a bad thing. Jesus didn’t design this life to be stable. There’s always something altering our viewpoint--forcing us to reevaluate how we understand our given roles.

My perceptions on parenthood, marriage, or simply being a woman have shifted. And it’s all looked a lot like letting go.

Letting go of what I thought my body would look like at age 28.

Letting go of trying to control who I want my husband and children to be and embracing who they are.

Letting go of hoping for the perfect house and working to creating a home instead.

May I find beauty in the act of release, this becoming aware to all God has in store for us right now.

Open my soul to see You here, Lord.

As we continue to walk, I run my palm along the curve on my baby’s spine, she nestles into my chest. The arms of the trees above us sway in the wind. Soon they’ll look different. Some would say empty. 

I would say their letting go opens up the earth to see more of the sky.

scout's birth story--part two

You can find part one of this story here.

I was disappointed and mentally exhausted. The idea of being sent home brought me to tears. It was a 40 minute drive back to our house. I was already in so much pain from the contractions that were coming every few minutes. I couldn't imagine laboring like this in the car.  I begged them to let me stay. 

I really have to credit how the nurses and midwives helped me work through the ‘loopholes’ to help me have the birth I wanted. As I wasn’t dilated very far, they didn’t want to officially admit me yet because then I’d sort of be on the hospital's timeline for delivery. But at the same time, they wanted to honor my request to let me try to see if I actually could progress soon enough to be able to stay.

I kept telling  Jonathan at this point--through many more tears--how tired I was. “I just want to go to sleep!” I said it over and over. I wasn't just worn out, it felt like some sort of primal nudging. You. need. to. sleep. I realize now that it was my body screaming at me to just relax. I was tensing up against the labor process and that’s why I wasn’t dilating like I needed to. Eventually, my knowledgable midwives suggested I take a sleeping pill. I resisted the idea at first because I have a history of weird reactions to medication. The last thing I wanted was to be extra sick during my daughter’s delivery. But after some convincing, I agreed to take the sleeping pill. It was exactly what I needed. I miraculously was able to get semi comfortable and not exactly sleep but definitely rest. I asked Jonathan to text everyone asking them pray that I would progress soon.

After an hour had passed the contractions had gotten much more intense. It was unfortunately, all back labor. The only thing that remotely relieved it was for Jonathan or a nurse to apply pressure to my back while the contraction worked through my body.  I was now getting vocal and very restless. Letting out lots of low groaning sounds somehow helped get my mind off how intense the pain was becoming. 

A nurse finally came in to check me and with great excitement told me that, “Oh, you get to stay! You’re at five centimeters!” I was so thankful to Jesus and proud of how far I'd come in such a short amount of time. More tears and a few “this is happening” moments. And really, all I could think about was the epidural I’d been holding out for. 

My birth plan from the beginning was exactly what it had been with Behr: Go as long as I possibly could without any pain medication and get the epidural if I felt like I needed it. I’ll probably share more about this later but, I’m so happy and thankful that I got an epidural both times I gave birth. Receiving the epidural allowed me to be calm and fully present the moment my babies were born. Which is exactly what my heart yearned for all along. 

And so I was admitted and wheeled into a bright room on the labor and delivery floor. With Behr, I labored through the night and with Scout I labored in the day. I love how different their birth stories are. And, being a photographer, I was not-so-secretly excited to be in a room full of natural light when we met our daughter. 

At this point I felt the same way I had when birthing Behr: as if I were trapped behind a clear, solid wall of pain. I could see Jonathan but I couldn’t connect with him or the birthing experience like I'd was hoping I would. The contractions were too strong and too close together for me to think about anything else. The pain in my lower back was magnificently intense. I couldn't believe my body was capable of producing that strong of a sensation. It started at the base of my spine and cascaded over my hips with the pressure of a thundering waterfall. I was very vocal now, lots of loud, low moaning. The only thing that got me through was squeezing Jonathan’s hand like it was my life line (it was) and the wonderful labor and delivery nurses applying constant counter pressure to my lower back. 

After an agonizing wait which included a poor nurse blowing out a vein in my right arm and waiting for blood work results, they administered the epidural. That in itself was an ordeal. Being in that much pain and having to sit upright and hold completely still was so hard. But once the epidural began to take effect I was able to catch my breath and wrap my mind around what was happening. Our girl is coming! This is her Birth Day!

I could still feel the contractions but, of course, now they had lost their intensity. I wanted to keep it that way because of the way it had been with Behr. With him, I had virtually no feeling below my waist and I believe that's some of the reason I ended up pushing for two hours (that, and his head was huge. Sorry, bud). This time around I asked them to not completely numb me and it helped in the long run. 

By this time our friend and incredible photographer, Lauren, had arrived and we were all settling in to wait for Scout to make her debut. 

They had me try a few different positions to see if it would help Scout move into a more engaging position but mostly I rested during this time and allowed my body to do what it needed to do. 

This is birth. A marathon of  big emotions and hard work. I love how beautifully and accurately Lauren captured it all. 

Eventually they came in to sit me upright to try and get Scout to drop further into the birth canal. I only stayed like that for a short amount of time. And apparently she didn't like it too much because her heart rate dipped a little. They immediately caught that and helped me change positions again. 

This is when everything sped up. My midwives came back in for a pep talk and another cervix check. I was fully dilated and my waters broke during that final check. The room suddenly flurried with activity. Two midwives in birthing gear, more nurses, blankets being laid out and "here we go, mama!" being said in various ways. 

Looking back, I see that everyone knew she was coming soon, except me. I felt a bit weird and distant. I think because I was expecting it to go exactly like Behr's birth. At this point with him, it was another long, excruciating, energy-depleting two hours before he was born. So mentally with Scout's birth I was preparing for the hardest part of the delivery. In my head I was saying things like, "Ok, I know you're tired but you've got to muster enough strength to get through the hardest part. You'll probably see your baby in about two hours from now."

So, you see, I wasn't in the "I'm about to hold my baby!" headspace. I was actually trying to check out from that feeling so I wouldn't get discouraged about how long I knew this was going to take. 

They told me it was ok to push, so I did (two times, maybe?) It wasn't painful and I wasn't sure I was doing it right but I could feel what I was doing "down there", which is what I wanted.  After those pushes, Kelly, the midwife who was my biggest cheerleader and encourager throughout my pregnancy, was ecstatic. She had the biggest grin on her face because she knew I was almost done. Jonathan was smiling and happy crying and I felt like saying, "No. Stop being excited, guys. We've still got a long ways to go."

That's when they told me to reach down and feel her head. 

Instant tears of relief. I could feel her! Her tiny, soft head was right there just waiting to be pushed out. I could not believe that I was so close to this all being over so quickly. I asked them to help me count down my breaths through the next two pushes. I knew what I was doing now. 

And then the final contraction. Deep breath. Hold it. Push out. Gently, gently, gently. 

Nine months of physical, mental, and emotional suffering. Nine months of begging God to just get us through. Nine of the hardest months I'd ever gone through in my life that brought me to this. 

 The moment we met our girl.

The second she slipped from my body and I wrapped my hands around her, I broke into happy, gulping, relieved sobs. It was over! Hallelujah! Praise You God! It was glorius and holy; woven all about with Jesus-sent heavenly joy. 

I've never been more sharply aware or present for something than when my babies were placed in my arms. At any moment, I can recall it both times with perfect clarity. The warmth of their slippery, wrinkled skin. Their pitiful, full-of-life cries. The proud, in-love shimmer in Jonathan's eyes.

I imagine it's what entering Heaven will be like. When every hardship dissolves into a distant, foggy recalling and is replaced by the one thing you've been yearning and hoping for from before you even knew what it could possibly feel like. 

They took her to the warming station to my left to clean her up and so Jonathan could put on her first diaper. I don't remember much from this time. I was kind of in an exhausted, euphoric mental haze. I just remember a bright sort of happiness permeating the room. She's here! She's here!

I can recall when they brought her back to try breastfeeding for the first time vividly. The weight of her tiny body in the crook of my arm. Both of us nestling in. She latched on my left side and I finally, really exhaled for the first time in what felt like a year.

We were all ok. We were all together. At last. 

"And all I feel in my stomach is butterflies the beautiful kind
Making up for lost time, taking flight, making me feel like...I just want to know you better now".

Everything Has Changed, Taylor Swift

Each time our babies were born, we only wanted ourselves and medical staff in the room. Everyone feels differently about this but, for us, it's important to experience those first moments with our new baby alone. I'm so grateful for family on both sides that respect and support this.

After awhile, Jonathan's parents arrived with Behr. I wasn't sure how he'd react, but it was sweeter than I could have imagined. Once again, Lauren captured it all perfectly with these images.

When Behr met Scout. I'll let the pictures tell the story.

How can I sum up the glory of her birth in words? I'll never be able to convey it in a way that does it full justice. But I'm honored to 'treasure it all up in my heart'. I think that's one of the sweetest joys of motherhood. There are things--big and small--that I've experienced with my babies that no one else can fully understand. Birth is one of those things. All I can say that each time I recall that day in June, I will remain forever grateful for how it all unfolded. 

(side note: the baby stork is the same one my Uncle Jeff sent to the hospital the day I was born. I brought it with us when both Behr and Scout were born. I can't get over how precious of an heirloom it is.) 

Isn't she beautiful?

And so at 4:20pm on June 26th, 2017 we brought Scout Lucy Arrow into the world. She was the light waiting for us at the end of a long, dark road. The heaven-writ purpose for all the suffering we endured. I can't wait to tell her--to look in her eyes--and say, "You were worth every bit of it, sweet girl."

We love you so, little one.

All images in this post are from the amazing Lauren Smith who we can't recommend enough to document your story. You won't regret working with her!

scout's birth story--part one

If I could sum up Scout's birth in a few words they would be: intense, healing, painful and beautiful. It was different than Behr's birth for a number of reasons but I think the biggest one would because I was a different person the second time around. I've grown. I know what it is to be birthed into the mothering role. It's not easy for me to share all the details as I'm afraid of what people may think. But I know that stories hold power and need to be told, if only so I can claim that power for myself.  And so, here it is, the story of how we met our Scout. 

>>>

The weekend before she came, Jonathan was working night shift. Which means he left the house at 4:30pm and wouldn’t get home until 6:00am the following day. I was highly uncomfortable at this point (not a big surprise for the end of pregnancy, I know). But contractions were a constant annoyance. There was no rhythm to them, but they were definitely sticking around enough to make me a low level of miserable. I remember Jonathan sending me a text that said, "I feel good about you having her this week." He just had a feeling that she was coming soon. And even though it was a over a week from her due date, turns out, Daddy was right.

Because Jonathan was working and I was so uncomfortable, I asked my mother-in-law Tina to come over for a few hours to help wrangle Behr. Keeping up with our rowdy toddler while contracting and waddling around nine months pregnant with our girl was proving to be nearly more than I could handle. Scout had carried low the entire nine months and at this point my hips were tired stretched to their limit and constantly throbbing in complaint to the weight they were bearing. Tina ended up coming over Saturday and Sunday night. I was so thankful to have someone there to talk to and help pass the time. She stayed long enough Sunday night to make sure Behr went to sleep and then left right after making me promise to call her if I needed anything.

I was mildly anxious after she left. It was exactly like when I was a kid and was about to do a play at church or do some form of public speaking; a concoction of excitement, slight nausea and that we-just-hit-the-plunging-section-of-the-rollercoaster feeling. It was horrid and thrilling all at once. Could this be the real thing?! The contractions were still there off and on but nothing I couldn’t handle on my own. I texted Jonathan a bit but eventually decided I needed to try and rest if it was at all possible. I climbed into bed but my mind was too busy to let me sleep. So, I thought I’d watch something on Netflix to pass the time. I needed something interesting and lighthearted to keep my mental state from giving into anxiousness. Moana was obviously the best choice.

I watched Moana in bed and noticed that the contractions were picking up and staying fairly consistent. Jonathan and I text back and forth but eventually I thought it’d be best to try and sleep if it was possible. I was able to sleep for a few hours and woke back up around 3am. The contractions we’re now 5-7 minutes apart and fairly painful. I ended up calling the midwife on call and asking her what I should do. After talking with me about what was happening, she suggested I come in to get checked because of how quickly things progressed with Behr. And so that started the chain of phone calls. To Jonathan to come home from work. To Tina to come be with Behr (who was thankfully still fast asleep). And to my mom to keep her updated on whether she and the family should head this way from Tennessee or not.

Jonathan and Tina arrived and the contractions were still present and painful, but not unbearable. In fact, I told Jonathan to go ahead get a shower since I didn’t feel like there was any need to rush out the door. I remember when I got up to get dressed that the the contractions would slow down. I know now that was just a preview of what was coming. We finally got on the road right as color was bleeding into the sky.  I'll tell Scout one day that it was a clear, soft sky. No clouds, just a smooth pink and gold horizon . Her daddy's favorite type of sunrise.

We arrived at the hospital and headed to triage. They brought me into the same tiny room I first got checked with Behr (the one my waters broke in with him). The nurse checked my cervix and I was a disappointing 2-3cm dilated. They didn’t know if they could keep me because I wasn’t progressing as quickly as they thought I would. The midwife suggested that I stay at the hospital and walk the halls for an hour and then see if I’d made any progress.

So that’s just what I did. Jonathan and I walked the halls of the labor and delivery room for a solid hour stopping every few minutes to work through very strong contractions. It was hard work but I was handling it pretty well by breathing slowly. By the end of the hour, the contractions felt like they had picked up. The only way I felt like I could work through them was to wrap my arms around Jonathan’s neck and shoulders and sort of suspend my weight on him. He has always been a safe, steady place for me and he was just that and more while the intensity of birth washed over me. I was so thankful for his calm presence. 

We finally headed back to the exam room where the nurse checked me and tenderly announced that, “Oh honey, it hasn’t changed at all.”

All that effort for nothing.  I could feel my body working so hard to get it all started. I knew I was in good, hard labor but my body wasn't dilating like it needed to. I was so tired and disappointed.

And that's when the medical staff came in and began steering the conversation towards the last thing I wanted to hear: "We think it might be best for you to go back home." 

read part two by clicking here.