How Braden Came to Be....Part II

Where was I? Oh, yes....we were wanting to start having kids!

When we lived in Colorado, I began to lose a lot of hair, had other issues with...ahem...regular women things, and even had an incredibly painful cyst burst on an ovary. This led to doctor's visits, bloodwork, and an ultra sound. It was then discovered that I had Polycystic Ovary Syndrome (PCOS). If you want to read all about it, google it. But to make a long, boring story short--my body has insulin issues which causes hormone imbalances. And as you well know, I NEED those hormones to make babies.

What beautiful babies we are capable of making....

Beautiful, beautiful, perfect little babies....
So when we decided to get pregnant, we suspected that my PCOS might play a role in things, but you can never know for sure. When we moved to Memphis, my OBGYN prescribed medication to help treat the PCOS--Metformin. Metformin is a medication that many diabetics take to help with insulin levels. The hope was that Metformin would regulate my insulin, and as a result, my hormones would become more normal.

I mentioned in the last post that I'd been talking about kids for years, but I'm not certain that I realized just how badly I wanted a baby until my emotional meltdown after about six months of negative pregnancy tests. This was a really difficult time for me. I wondered if PCOS was the incorrect diagnosis because the doctors had not been 100% certain and had really not talked me through much. I wondered if I had some other horrible condition. I wondered if we'd adopt, and if so, where would we get the money? I wondered if our road to expanding our family would take years. I wondered why we had not begun the process sooner if we suspected that we'd have problems. I really didn't trust that God's timing was perfect. I knew it in my head, but I didn't believe it with my soul. Have you ever been there? Daily my soul was groaning for faith and belief, but I was believing lies. I finally talked to my OBGYN who quickly referred me to a fertility specialist, Dr. Detti.

I was an emotional wreck because I feared her telling me that I was infertile entirely. We had not told anyone that we were having trouble or considering seeing a specialist, and so Jed had to console and comfort me in those moments. As wonderful as he was, my mind was all over the place. I longed to have children so badly, and patience is a very weak point for me. I saw so many of my friends around me having children, and I rejoiced with them and loved those children so much. I wanted my kids to be their friends!

Dr. Detti ran all sorts of tests on both of us to rule out some things, and it was confirmed that I had PCOS. For the first time, the condition was explained to us so incredibly well, and we decided that we weren't in a hurry (yeah right....I was trying to trust God and Jed was in no hurry), so Dr. Detti doubled my Metformin dose.
A few months later, and probably 10 pregnancy tests later, I still wasn't pregnant. I cried my eyes out. I finally told Jed that we had to tell our families and a couple of close friends. We had wanted to surprise the mess out of the family with, "We're pregnant!" NOT "We can't get pregnant!" I was hurting, and I felt alone, really alone. I needed women who understood the longing for pregnancy, and I needed encouragement and prayer. I cried out to God to make me believe that He knew what He was doing, and I cried out to God that I knew He'd placed the desire for children in me for a reason. I cried because I knew that children would fix nothing. I knew that it would be difficult for little people to live in a house with me, and I'd be frustrated and I'd see more of my sin and the effects of it on others than ever before. But I wanted that so badly. Jed held me, and he comforted me, and he prayed with me. He loved me well. But I needed more support.

So we finally told our immediate families and a couple of very close friends. Our family and friends surrounded us. They spoke God's deepest promises to me. Jed told me constantly that I was fearfully and wonderfully made. My mom told me that it was okay to cry and to want children and that God had already designed the perfect child for me. Rox sent encouraging texts every time I had a doctor's appointment. Jed's mom told me that the Spirit was groaning to the Father the words that I did not have. My sisters called me, encouraged , and hugged me. My daddy prayed with me and for me. They all cried with me. They were my support team. God made it so. He placed them there, and He showed me grace and mercy. He comforted me, He came into my darkness when I felt alone, and He promised me that my contentment was based on Him and not the hope of having children.

So Jed and I worked, played, and lived....very seriously of course, we have no sense of humor at all. I feel bad for us. Poor us.


Whew. I'm emotional. AND exhausted. I need to peace out. Part III very soon!!

How Braden Came to Be...Part I

Did the title scare you? Good!

I've been meaning to write our dude's story for awhile now. I want to remember it because it was amazing, and difficult, and painful, and God-breathed. It's perfect. But because I am dramatic, and I like to tell stories, I have to start at the very beginning (A very good place to start...thank you Julie Andrews).

In June of 2004, Jed and I got married. This was definitely not the beginning of our story, but it's where I'll begin for now. Any-who, we lived in Lynchburg for the first three years of our marriage, and we constantly went camping, hiking, traveling, skiing, and doing tons of other fun things that people sans kiddos can do. We talked about wanting kids one day, and we both like kids. Sooooo....we took a big step in our lives......

We bought Nikki!!

Here we are camping with our first baby:

We also did outlandish things like manipulate our duplex neighbors into opening ALL of our homes and throwing a massive Halloween party. And all of our friends including us dressed like crazy people....we love dressing up. Some people don't--they lead boring lives and are snobs who take themselves too seriously. Sorry if you're one of them. Get over yourself. Wink. (I think winks make strong opinions sound sweeter. Whaddoyouthink?)

Eventually we moved to Colorado. But that's another story for another time. And eventually we moved to Memphis. And we bought a house, and we started talking.

About the idea of starting a family. OK I'll be a bit more honest. JED started to talk. I had been talking about it for years. I am what my mom calls a verbal processor. Since very soon after we got married, we'd be in Kroger and I'd see a woman with a possy of children following her like ducklings, and I'd point out to Jed that I couldn't wait to have a possy following and bugging me. He'd usually tell me to stop staring and pointing. At restaurants I was (am) the freak that would be making faces at the baby at the next table. Jed would typically ask me why I felt the urge to make faces at miniature people while on a date with him. He loves me.

I might as well mention here that I also struggled with the thought of having children. I am a selfish person, and it was difficult for me to think about all that I would have to give up--dinners for two, independence, my body, vacations, money, and the list goes on. One major struggle for me was the thought of giving up a career. Jed and I both worked at day cares when we were in high school and decided we wanted to have a parent at home with our kiddos. Don't get me wrong--there are some wonderful daycares, and people must make the right decision for their own family. (I'll preach at ya about my feelings on judgemental, anti-daycare people later.) But for Jed and I, we really prayed that God would provide a way that I could at least be home most of the week with our kids until they're in kindergarten. This means no Bad A career for awhile for me. I am not necessarily all about careers, but I AM all about causes, working hard, and using my gifts and abilities.

OK--so back to wanting chirens.

I longed to me a mom, and I longed for Jed to be a Dad. I longed to love a kid, I longed for the sanctification of parenthood, and I longed for a kid to bring Jed and I even closer together. So once we were in Memphis, and quite settled, we knew it was finally business time.


Don't we look so care-free and not frazzled and frantic?? It's because we didn't have a kid. Now I'm matronly and ugly and boring and tired and gray-headed and sweatpant-wearing. Sigh....

OK my fingers are tired of typing, and plus I need to work on a grizzant before the world's best baby wakes up from nap #1. I meant to write the grant first, but I have ADD I think.

Part II to follow soon!

Life for Losers

Romans 8:9-11

You, however, are not in the flesh but in the Spirit, if in fact the Spirit of God dwells in you. Anyone who does not have the Spirit of Christ does not belong to him. but if Christ is in you, although the body is dead because of sin, the Spirit is life because of righteousness. If the Spirit of him who raise Jesus from the dead dwells in you, he who raised Christ Jesus from the dead will also give life to your mortal bodies through his Spirit who dwells in you.

LIFE FOR ME!

Horrarrassment Story #1,892

I think that because I am sitting on my sister AK's bed listening to the rain and working (NO--this is not work, this is a break), I should share with you one of my horror stories. Most people have embarrassing stories, and I have many too, but I have even more horror stories. This one is both horror and embarrassment. A horrarrassment. Look it up in my dictionary.

Almost 4 years ago, while I was attending Liberty University in the Burg, I was a healthnutfreakcrazyperson. I was working out a lot and attempting to drink a lot of water every day. You know those big Nalgenes? The old school ones that we put bumper stickers all over? I would drink 5 of them a day. So my bladder got big and stretched out. Yay! In between two of my classes at school I had to pee real bad. So I ran downstairs to the bathroom and on the way in, I ran into a girl that I had shared classes with in the past. She liked to talk. More than me. That's a lot. So she was talking and talking and talking and I was squeezing and holding it and in pain. And I casually placed one leg in front of the other in order to help myself out. And guess what she did? Talked. And I couldn't say "no" or "hang on" or "just a moment" or "SHUT THE *BLEEEP* UP BEFORE I PEE ON YOU!". I lost all my self esteem and gumption and straightforwardness, and I smiled and nodded. Do you remember where I said I was standing? On the way in. As in, IN the entrance to the bathroom. I was that close, people!

So finally I said I needed to run but I'd see her later, and I spun out of my adorable positioning, and on the first step, that tinkle straight up gushed out of me. Imagine a dark pee circle on my jeans that started at crotch and ended near ankles. Now imagine the whole situation. How do you get to your car to get home and get pants without the whole world knowing? Well, this is where you'll be SO impressed with me. It was the dead of winter and freezing outside and so I had on a spaghetti strap shirt with a fitted cardigan over it. So I stripped the jeans and put them in my backpack. And I took that cute, fitted cardigan which was WHITE and I buttoned it around my waste. Imagine--tight white skirt buttoned up the back. Told you you'd be impressed. Now-you should know-LU has a Liberty Way which involves official rules blah blah blah. My outfit was NOT Liberty Way. It was very opposite of Liberty Way and it was very opposite of Whitney way as well. But I marched my hoochielookinself to my car across campus looking like this. Imagine: white, short, tight skirt buttoned up the back where you could see my hiny. Spaghetti strap tight shirt. Freezing cold. I told myself that if an RA approached me to write me up, I'd have her smell my backpack. But none did, and I've never gotten to my car quicker.

Thanks for listening to my horrarrassing moment. I love you. The end.

Little Mister

Waiting for the doctor.......


My baby boy has the flu!! Boooooo.......I gotta go love on him for hours. :( Poor lil stinker....

Cashew Chicken

Those of you who know me know I love to cook! BUT I do NOT make anything difficult or with complicated ingredients--no siree. That's for people who have their own cooking shows and snobs and such.

So lemme preface this recipe--my husband was born in Korea, and he loooooves Asian food, or mainly just rice. And with rice--he must have meat. Every night. Meat. And Rice. Get it? K! So when we lived in Lynch-vegas (that's Lynchburg, Virginia, for those of you who don't know where some of my best memories and friends are), we used to go to a yummy restaurant called Thai 99 and eat Cashew Chicken. We miss it, and I cry myself to sleep every night longing for it. Just kidding, only once! So I did some research and I found this amazing recipe (amazing because it's easy) for Cashew Chicken and here it is.

Thai Cashew Chicken

3 T Canola oil {or whatever oil! I used Olive Oil, because Popeye rocks my world}
1 lb chicken {who puts chicken on a scale? for realz. I use 4-6 chicken breasts}
2 1/2 T Thai chili paste {or straight up chili paste. DO NOT ADD EXTRA...this amount alone will make everyone around cough and run to the hills if you don't have a fan on!}
1/2 c chicken broth {or more if you're me and read it wrong and add 2 cups....but we like LOTS of juice, so it turned out better}
1 red bell pepper in 1/2" slices {my husband doesn't like veggies, I skip}
1/2 large onion in 1/2" slices {I tell my husband to get over it, and I add this}
1/4 c oyster sauce {Asian section in Kroger (or Krogers if it's my grandmother)}
1 T sugar
6 dried red chiles {riiiight, never did this part}
1/2 c raw roasted cashews {or MORE}

Cook chicken in 2T oil in large skillet. Set Aside. Add remaining oil to skillet and heat. Add chili paste, stirring constantly to break it up for 1-2 minutes. Add chix broth, red pepper, onion, oyster sauce, and sugar. Stir well and simmer 3 minutes. Lower heat to medium, add chicken, and cook until sauce is slightly thickened and veggies are tender, 4-5 minutes. Add chiles and cashews. Stir and serve over rice.

Here are the pictures of the way all this went!

I first poured a glass of...ahem....apple cider!

Ingredients!

Olive oil in cute green cast iron dutch oven. I love Martha Stewart.
I got tired, and husband hottie had to pour me another...ahem....apple cider.
Because I was feeling nice, I made the onions that said husband hates separately!
Chircken!
Broth...too much...so I had to add more of other stuff too...I like!
Finished product. Love button.

Feed to hungry guests. The ones happy to have their picture taken. Sometimes they hate me. But I always love them.

Amazing Grace

So I find it to be a law that when I want to do right, evil lies close at hand.
~Romans 7:21

Recently, three of my favorite women in the world-Tasha, Andrea, and Kelli, came in town. While they were here, at different points with different women, we were able to have a few of those talks in which you feel like your soul has been heard. And because God is really good, these women shared personal stories as well. I was able to hear about their marriages, key family relationships, struggles, and how God is loving them to Himself through various teachings. Many of the things said that weekend resonated in a really deep way with me and with my spirit.

One discussion we had was about listening to God through meditation, prayer, and the Scriptures. This may seem silly--but it has left me in a state of spiritual renewal. I am constantly busying myself with new spiritual commitments (reading through the Bible, reading "spiritual" books, praying the "ACTS" way, etc.). There is nothing wrong with these commitments except that I can never complete or finish them and they are busy work for me. I do not spend time praying that the Holy Spirit would convict me of my sin, show me ways to intentionally serve, and teach me how to worship. Instead I spend time learning cool spiritual things to talk about or get discouraged because I don't naturally always LIKE to pray or spend time in the Word.

Anyway, I have spent more time in Scripture, praying, and worshiping in the last few weeks than in many years and actually have a DESIRE to do this. I am asking God to help me pay attention to Him in my day to day life by making clear the needs of others, convicting me of my sin, and helping me to be thankful for the undeserved blessings He pours out to me in my daily life. He is really teaching me that my worship, relationships, prayer, and theology will never be perfect, but He already sent His perfect son for that, and that is SO freeing!!! For example, many people in a church I grew up in believe that closing your eyes, raising your hands, or dancing during worship on Sunday mornings is merely an attempt to receive attention. For me I worship BETTER when I can concentrate on the words by closing my eyes, and can raise my hands to physically express my praise and adoration for our AWESOME God, and dance (no booty dancing, don't worry). These are not acts to get attention when I'm quite certain these get more negative than positive attention where I come from, but are acts that God has asked me to do. They are also biblical....VERY biblical. God has not called everyone to worship this way, but He HAS called me to do this. That is only one example, and I am LOVING worship now.

Ya'll (all 2 of you who read my blog) think I'm just really awesome now, huh? Okay, so now the big news--I have ALSO found myself SO critical of others, bitter and jealous towards certain people, frustrated, and impatient. It is so extremely frustrating. And here is where you should read again the verse I began with. :) I read this this morning and I am so certain that Paul wrote this for me specifically. It is SO true. I am finding a new joy in the freedom of Christ right now, but feel that instead of being wholly in tune with the fruits of the Spirit, I am so entirely full of judgement, hatred, and sin. BUT I am certain that God is revealing this to me so that I know this new-found joy is not of me, it is entirely of Him. I have no glory in it--it is not because I am doing more, I am actually failing more. It is because He loves me, and He wants me to be free in him. He hates how much I love my own glory, schedule, comfort, and abilities.

I am falling on my face every hour of the day right now, embarrassed of who I am, insecure in who I am, and hating my sin. But He is teaching me that He is my security, and when I'm embarrassed about my sin, how it affects and wounds others, and how I am constantly screwing up, He is teaching me and letting me rest in His never-ending love. He is there all the time--when I gossip and am embarrassed because it hurts others, when I am jealous and bitter, when friends betray me, and when I care more about myself than my husband. He is the only reason any of this can change, and He is the only reason a messy marriage, mundane diaper changing, and wounded friendships can be changed to a beautiful love story, guiding and giving security to a covenant baby, and loyal, comforting camaraderie.