The thing about birthdays is that we (meaning I) tend to have this *expectation* that they’ll be a little extra special compared to the normal day.  Lucky for me, I have a few great people in my life that were intent on making that happen.  (Thanks to those of you who took some time out of your CRAZY BUSY lives to spend some time with me on m birthday.)

PS – You won’t see Steven in these photos because he had to work, not because he chose not to come.

PSS – If it looks like we’re in a garage…it’s because we were.  But don’t worry, it was all clean fun…we were just having a yard sale at the same time.  Well, I say WE, but I ended up taking home way more than I brought.  How does that happen?
My cute little cake!  It’s 24 cupcakes, if you were wondering.  (I turned 24…in case you were still confused)

My birthday present.

Not the baby.  Obviously.  The traveling swing AKA the babysitter.

Me and my cake.  It was almost like a bonfire.  I had help blowing that out.

Lala and her piece of the cake.

And, …her second piece?  Plus, take notice of her green/yellow mustache and the black goatee…

She said she wanted some cake…

What comes around…gets eaten.

*See, they even love me so much that they photo-documented it all so I could BLOG it later.

(then concluded with enchirritos at Mom’s house and some ice cream cake…I totally didn’t take photos of myself eating that )

Welcome back!

There is a part of me that wants to document and sift through the plethora of feelings and thoughts looming over me.  Then, there is the rest of me that wants to hunker in the dark corner, silent – waiting for the dark waters to cover me and end the intense struggle.  Today, emotions are raw and the deeper I dig, the more hurt I feel.  It seems like one corner after another, my life is flipping over on itself.  And, each time I find myself talking myself off of a ledge.

No.

No.

No.

I won’t go back there.  Not to that place.  I can’t.  I’m stronger than this.

At least, that’s what I want to believe, despite the tears rushing down my feverish cheeks.

I sit in a chair, holding a friend’s hand, trying my best to comfort her.  But, no words can be said to fix the lifetime of hurt she’s accumulated and collected that is now spewing forth onto the table.  I hold her hand and hug her and tell her I love her.  And then I just sit.  I listen.  And I love her silently.  She struggles through tears of her own to tell me how unfair things have been and if she could just be in a different situation – a situation she describes that would remarkably look like mine…at least, on the surface.

And then I want to shake her awake, or at least mumble “Be careful for what you wish for…”

Instead I sit, listening.

She feels the world caving in, a little at a time, and her shoulders are so worn and ragged she doesn’t know how to take another step.  She feels like she’s alone in the midst of a crowd of people, and that she has to be everyone’s everything and that it’d just be easier if…

she could be me.

I tell her that we all hurt and we all have our dark and dirty little secrets that make us cry at night.  I tell her that for every happy face she sees, there are most likely bleeding hearts inside.  Awful, but true.

She laughs at me, her sweet eyes mocking me.  To her, I couldn’t possibly know the pain she felt.

My heart shreds a little and I feel my tongue glueing itself to the roof of my mouth.  If I were to begin saying what’s on my heart right now, I’d surely bury her in the rubble of it all.  This was her time.  I tried to smile, although it came out more like a wince.

“I don’t have words for you,” I told her.  “Just love.”

Because what do you tell a person when you don’t know yourself?

What do you say when the truths you were so sure of turned out to be pretty little deceptive lies laced in gold and diamonds?

What do you say when you’re clinging to the last shred of hope, yourself?

What do you do when they’re drowning, but your own life preserver seemingly floated away?

I’d hold your hand and walk it with you if you weren’t so busy pushing me away, insisting I could never understand.

Maybe, just maybe…did you ever wonder if I was the one that needed to hold your hand?

Yesterday was Steven and my 4th wedding anniversary.  We had considered all sorts of options for “what to do,” but nothing we came up with was really appropriate – at least not with a $0 budget.  And, on Wednesdays in a small town…there’s just not much going on.  Originally, we’d wanted to go to St. Louis and visit the zoo with the girls, science museums, etc – but even though the admission to those things are relatively cheap, they weren’t cheap enough and that didn’t even figure in gas or a hotel.  So, we trashed that idea.

Instead, we took Aurora to her first doctor visit.  After waiting over an hour in our new pediatrician’s waiting room, we found out that not only had Aurora gained weight (she’s now 7lbs 3oz!), but she also grew about an inch!  He prescribed her some Levisin (or Levison??) to help relax her tummy which may or may not be the cause for the colicky episodes during the wee hours of the morning.

Afterwards, Steven asked me what I’d like to do with the rest of our day.  My vote was dropping the girls off with mom (who had taken a half day to watch the girls for us) and then sneaking away to take a nap.

Instead…mom bought us a lovely lunch at Flamingo Row, followed by a frantic search for a bathroom for Steven after he refused to go at the restaurant.  In case you wanted to know…Old Navy does NOT have a bathroom for the general public.  Next, we headed over to Books A Million and spent a couple of hours flipping through an assortment of magazines and books (and, Steven taking a 30 minute nap)  After that, we headed back to Old Navy to find Steven a pair of inexpensive shorts since he only had one pair and even those were ripped.  Then, we headed toward the pharmacy where we spent over half an hour arguing with our insurance about whether our newborn should be covered or not, and ultimately ended up paying in full for her medicine.

Once we’d collected the prescription, we headed off to my parents’ home where a feast had been prepared for us.  Except I didn’t feel good, so I dozed off on the couch.  At 9 pm, I opted for a couple of plain strawberry Kashi whole grain waffles and a huge glass of water just to keep from passing out.

Yeh…We probably should’ve just stuck with taking a nap, looking back.  It was a pretty good day, though…considering.

We’re totally having a redo this Saturday.  And, that’s that.

Wow. I can’t believe how incredibly busy I’ve been – the kind of busy where at the end of the day you aren’t even sure you “accomplished” much else than feeding yourselves and changing diapers and trying to keep the toddler from accidentally falling down the stairs or ON the baby. Besides updating my facebook, I’ve pretty much broken up with the internet. It’s not that I mean to, I’m just THAT busy…and I’m needed elsewhere, so that’s where I am.

Even though it hasn’t been that long – only a couple of years – since I last had a newborn in my arms, I guess I had forgotten some things…

You know, like the fact that you can go through an entire package of 84 diapers in TWO WEEKS! And, that 4+ po0py diapers a day was normal…and, the um…fragrance and consistency of it all. Mmm. And, I think I forgot the random fussiness where you THINK it’s one thing but then you’re totally wrong and after you’ve spent 2 hours changing the baby, singing to the baby, walking with the baby, rocking the baby, trying to persuade the baby to take a pacifier, covering the baby and then uncovering her when she screams in protest….then, it’s time to eat again…and by the time you’ve decided it MUST be gas, they fall asleep for 30 minutes. How I forgot that bit, I’ll never know. Or…how they just want to be held and will not be tricked by fancy swings that play them music and rock them with actual consistency and won’t fall asleep and stop in mid-rock…and how you become virtually useless when you have a floppy newborn in your arms who doesn’t really like to stay in one place…

Ahhhh…love it. (Really, I do.)

This time is a little different though…Because not only am I the personal poop disposer, but I’m also breakfast, lunch, and dinner – and the 80 snacks in between (it seems). I didn’t realize I’d be sleeping on towels, wishing for pain relievers and numbing gels (during the first week), or mostly topless – but it’s been a good experience and I’m FINALLY to the part where it begins to be enjoyable. Except for the towels. Steven has been super supportive although I think he was a little disappointed when he figured out that the nursing camis with snap-down boobie pieces was not lingerie, but for nursing. That, and he now realizes that not only is he glad to have been born a male, but is also glad that men can’t nurse babies. Wuss.

May has been full so far – A being born, checkups, baby blessing, recovering, catching up on chores, the wonderful baby shower that a few beautiful ladies threw for me (thanks!)… Then, tomorrow is the 2 week check up for Baby A AND Steven and my anniversary. This weekend is Memorial Day Weekend and a special lunch for our church’s seniors… and my dad’s birthday… And, so much more on the to-do list.

So, tomorrow we plan to wake up at the crack of dawn (oh wait, we do that anyway…sort of) and then go to A’s appointment. Mom is taking the day off tomorrow to watch the girls so we can have some “date” time. We still have the movie gift card that my parents gave us for Christmas and MAY be able to grab something to eat if I have enough on a different gift card we were gifted for Christmas by my parents. If all else fails, we may hide away at the library or in books a million and read. Because we’re nerds. And broke. Then, on Friday my mom has ordered us a DEEP FREEZER for our anniversary gift from her and dad and Grams! I’m super excited. A freezer has been on our wish list for a couple of years, now and we’re finally getting one! I never thought I’d be this excited over an appliance but our freezer is packed and we could shave off a little more of the cost of food if we could cook larger quantities and then freeze for later. Saturday, we’re planning on taking the girls downtown for some festivities and then, of course, church on Sunday …and, Monday, a cookout! Woo! Super excited though.

In other news, still no news on the job front. Well…a lot of “No’s” it seems. It’s really frustrating and I have “freak out periods” where I have to be reminded that just because I don’t see HIM working, He’s there. There are a couple of free lance jobs that are possibilities, which would last us about a month or two. And, then we’re also looking at the possibility of Steven going back to school and contracting with ROTC — BUT a few things have to be accomplished before that can be a possibility, and time isn’t on our side. So, please pray for us on that one. It’s really important.

So, that catches us up, I think…All over the place, but I felt like I needed to write.

Oh… and the magical garden that got confused and grew upside down (died)… we replanted it yesterday… both of them.

I finally took the initiative to look up what all of the hub-bub about this swine flu was about.  Typically, I ignore the news and get only the utmost “important” things from family and friends.  Some of you would say I’m not educating myself on the happenings of the world, but to be honest, I feel like I’m staying true to what really matters: the world around ME and the people who live in it.  That, and I don’t really care for the media’s representation of much of anything these days.  I’m just not ready to jump on the doom and gloom wagon, I have enough things in my own life that could easily get me down.

So, 109 cases so far, and one death in the US.  Although, the one death was a mexican visiting Texas and had “underlying conditions” and died from the pneumonia that the flu caused.  Being prepared is one thing, but I won’t be stocking up on tape and face masks just yet.  And, if I do…it’ll have nothing to do with swine flu.  I will take this plenty serious, but as of right now?  I have a better chance of walking into the road and getting run over than I do of dying from the swine flu.  Actually, seeing as how some people don’t read speed limit signs out here, that may not be saying much.  But, still.

Since I’m not spending my time raiding the shelves of Walmart for jugs of water, face masks, and duct tape, Steven and I had plenty of time to spare after my doctor’s appointment yesterday.  (I am still 3 cm, 80% effaced just like I was on Tuesday.)  So, we decided to head a town over and look at apartments.  If you know me at all (or have read my blog for over a month), you really shouldn’t have to ask WHY, but in case you are, I’ll save you the extra embarrassment from not really having been paying attention.

You see, Steven lost his job a couple of months ago and it was pretty much “Surprise!  Don’t come back!”  kind of thing.  And, while we have our theories as to the WHYS – which have everything to do with the management of the company and their finances and not much at all to do with S – none of it really matters much at this point.  And, in case you are still confused, I’ll break it down further…

No job = No income

No income + bills + creditors = Still no income

Do you see where I’m going with this?  We didn’t really have “savings” and are pretty much winging it (and have been) but are getting rather close to the end of the pot of money we were able to scrounge together.  Instead of waiting for another month or two, we thought we’d be proactive and just look at apartments and prices while we still have CHOICES and a little time, rather than being backed into a corner with only one or two options.

In other news, still no job.  Leads here and there, but after 2 months – nothing means anything until a contract is signed.  Now, we’re looking at the possibility of going full time military – I’m still figuring out how I feel about that, and it will mean a very probably move in a few years if we go with that.  Only thing is, there will still have to be a few rounds of jumping through fiery rings just to do that – and it all has to be done fast and of course is not in my hands at all.  So, yeh.

In even more AWESOME news…our last dependable vehicle died.  DIED.  So, we jumped it one last time (for now) and my grams let us use her old car, which well…yeh.  *Sigh*

There’s more, there always is…but that should give you a pretty good idea as to why I’m stressed.  And, why if anyone else tells me to just “Calm down” or “Focus on me and the baby”…well, please don’t.  I am trying to see the rainbows, I really am.  But, right now…I’m almost 40 weeks pregnant and feel like I have absolutely no control over much of anything.

In fact, I’m beginning to wonder if this baby is even going to be born before the year is out.  Well, not really…but I am wondering if maybe my body is a little confused, considering all of the trouble and hormone issues I had with conceiving L in the first place, and other hormone-related type issues.  I’m wondering if the baby is ready and my body is just a little confused.  I know NORMALLY, your body should know what to do, but I also know sometimes, the rules don’t always apply and what if I’m one of the weird ones?

I remember my very first car-ride as a new mom – we were on our way home from the hospital, and it was one of the most terrifying experiences of my life.  For the first time, my baby was not only outside of me, but we were leaving the confines of a well-protected area and venturing out into the “big world” with cars and reckless drivers and such.

That was the longest 50-minute ride home I have ever had.

As I held her hand, my over-active imagination saw each and every possible calamity that could happen from our starting point to our home.  I’m not sure how I maintained by consciousness during that ride home because I’m pretty sure I held my breath almost the entire way.

I smile as I remember back to holding her little body in my arms.  I remember how she was tiny and we were scared to hold her at first, scared we’d break her – my brother and dad took a while to warm up to holding her while not sitting down, even.  And, then I look back at motherhood in general during those days, and forward…and I can see the changes.  For me, being a new mother has been much like a dance, where I’m continuously learning the next steps and becoming more confident with my abilities as a mom.

During Lorelei’s first few months of life, I was terrified to just leave her.  It took weeks before I would leave her for a few hours, and then even more time before I finally left her for an entire night.  I actually remember that night.  My parents wanted to keep her for the night, and I wanted them to – yet, the fear of WHAT IFs just wouldn’t leave my head.  WHAT IF SHE NEEDED ME?  WHAT IF SHE DIED FROM SIDS OR SOMETHING AND I WASN’T THERE?  WHAT IF?  WHAT IF?  After about 30 minutes of rehashing “the plan” for almost any conceivable emergency, I walked out of their door with tears running down my cheeks.  “You don’t have to do this, and you don’t have to do it tonight, you know,” my mother said.  “I know,” I replied, “but, I have to do it sometime.”

The second time was not quite as hard and the third got even easier.  After that, I missed her before I even left but things were much easier and I was finally able to enjoy the free couple time that came with your child being watched by someone else you trusted dearly.

But, the dance went on and I began to grow in other ways as I came face to face with situations that I wasn’t entirely sure how to handle.

As a child, I had HORRID allergic reactions – and, while most of my reactions were environmental rather than food (with a few exceptions), I knew that if Lorelei were to get my allergies, it was possible that they could show up in any form and with even worse consequences.  So, for the first 18 months of her life, she was carefully introduced to new foods and I was set against offering her candy, soda, or any other junk food just yet.  This was something that not everyone agreed fully with me on.  I’m still not entirely sure those who disagreed fully understood my reasoning, but their actions against my wishes infuriated me.  I felt that she was too young for junk food, and since we hadn’t introduced it yet, she didn’t want it.  Of course, she’d take it…but she wasn’t asking FOR IT, specifically.  She still preferred healthier things – like juice and fruits.  Furthermore, I couldn’t see the reasoning behind giving my child foods that were simply not good for her and could only further damage the resistance her immune system had built up, making her more prone to allergies.  As a new mother, I made it clear where I stood on the issue, and with every too-early offering of a finger dipped in peanut butter or a spoonful of chocolate ice cream or a swig of soda while they thought I couldn’t see, I became angrier and felt more and more like my own ideas about parenting MY CHILD were not only not being taken seriously, but were also being all-together ignored.

There was also the season of parenting where I was extremely picky with whom Lorelei was allowed to spend the night with.  To be frank, I took parenting seriously and my mind reeled at the notion that children were mostly indestructible.  I realize that sometimes children live in spite of their parents, but those weren’t necessarily the people I wanted in charge of my child’s health and well-being – especially while she was at the fragile age of having to depend on everyone to decode every cry and whimper for her.  In particular, I remember a suggestion to let my infant daughter sleep on pillows on a chair and I remember my breath sucking up through my chest.  I’d read the baby books and SIDS terrified me.  I countered the suggestion with what I’d read, only to be laughed at told that they’re children turned out just fine.  But, that wasn’t good enough for me.  It wasn’t a chance I was willing to take with the miracle that I’d fought so hard for, the life that had been entrusted to me.

Then, there was the season of parenting  where I cared so much about everyone thought.  I sifted through views and ideas about things from toxins in our environment to vaccination to organics, and I had to choose where I would stand with each.  At first, each time I was met with a conflicting view or a disapproving glance, I’d run back to the information, just to read it again.  Each time, I’d feel like the most awful parent for choosing something that was perhaps not “main-stream” thought and practice.

There were other seasons too…seasons of feeling like I wasn’t good enough, seasons of feeling like certain people didn’t have time for us in their busy lives, seasons of learning to dance my dance around other people’s dances, seasons of good, and seasons of bad…all seasons of learning.

Soon, we’ll be the blessed parents to yet another beautiful daughter, and while I know this time will be different, I believe it will be much the same.  My dance has evolved, but it is still much like the one I began with, only more refined and a little less clumsy.

This time, I won’t have to close my eyes with dread on the way home, fearing the worst.  This time, I’ll be able to let my little one spend the night with her grandparents and walk out the door without having to focus on moving forward just to keep from running back to her.  But, this time… I still won’t let her have soda and I still won’t let her have foods before I believe she’s ready.  Her intake on junk food and chocolates and possible allergens will be limited, just the same.  This time, I’ll stand strong in my beliefs and demand respect for MY parenting skills, too.  I don’t disrespect other’s beliefs, nor do I try to change them, but when it comes to MY child I want my ideas and wishes to be respected.  This time, I’ll still be a little leery letting her spend the night out and will probably need to go over “just in case plans,” but I’ll be able to do it.

And, this time?  I’ll realize that no matter how involved I want people to be in our lives -or how I think they should be, it’s ultimately their choice.  This time I’ll try to remember that not everyone will want or be committed to having a close relationship with my daughters, and that not everyone will bond with them the way I think is best…but, it’s their way.  And, as long as I’m being respected and my daughters are safe, I’ll let go a little more.

Because the dance will be fabulous one day, I’m getting better and better each and every day…

It’s crazy to not have a doctor appointment today.  I’ve had my appointments on Tuesdays right after lunch pretty much since I became pregnant!  I thought for sure I’d have trouble remembering the appointment, but then there’s the whole I DON’T GET OUT MUCH thing, so this is like my big outing.  Yeh, sad, I know.  I look forward to Walmart trips too, and I know that makes me weird, too. 

Anyhow, at 37 weeks…

Occasional back-ache cramp type stuff go on.  Like period cramps, cept not.  Obviously.

Most days, I feel REALLY drained and exhausted and literally have no energy.  For anything.  You could tell me there was a cupcake on the counter and I wouldn’t even get up.  See?  THAT should tell you something.

The nausea.  It’s THISCLOSE to throwing up, but I don’t.  It’s random.  Sometimes it’s mornings, sometimes it’s during the day (like now), and sometimes it’s at night while I’m trying to sleep.  Sometimes it just kind of stays with me all dang day.  But, I don’t actually throw up.  The nurses have offered me more Zofran, but since I’m not losing lots of food and it’s mostly just a pain, I’d rather not take the extra medication.

The itchy rash.  It’s BACK!  The one that makes me want to peel my skin off.  They never really figured out what it was before, and I’m hesitant (again) to get the cream again just because I feel like it’s medicine that will also go to my baby and I really think I can tough it out for a few more weeks.  I’ll just whine all about it!  The doc’s office has since wished they’d gotten me in today rather than Thursday so they could check it out again but my calendar is kind of already full up until Thursday.

Standing hurts.  Sitting hurts.  Sometimes, even laying hurts.  I’m in the uncomfortable part now.  Sitting straight up makes me want to puke, and puts pressure where pressure isn’t really fun.  Standing feels like I’ve, what…got a kid’s head between my legs?  And, laying down gets uncomfy when the baby decides to lay all funky, taking my tummy with her and leaving me in a really weird position.

Tremors.  Actually, my belly (or should I say uterus?) has been VIBRATING occasionally.  I looked it up because when I ask people about it, I get weird looks.  It SERIOUSLY feels like she’s having seizures.  It’s not a wiggle or a roll or hiccups or little situating.  It lasts for like 10-15 seconds or so and is like seizures.  But then she acts fine.  I think L might have done this too and she’s perfectly fine.  So, yeh.  I don’t know what it is.

Vitamins make me sick, so I’m not really taking them right now.  (But I’ve upped my fruit/veggie intake)

I’m eating smaller meals more often.  Or trying.  I’m getting full-feeling faster.

Definitely have to pee alot.  As in frequently.  Like every 10 minutes sometimes.

I SO DID go buy a vinyl mattress cover because the thought of peeing in the bed or my water breaking in the bed freaks me out…only because this mattress is basically brand new and won’t fit in the washer.

The baby clothes have been brought downstairs and are now hanging on hangers.  Most of them.  …You know, the ones L hasn’t pulled off the hanger yet.

Everything else in this house looks like a disaster zone and I just want to sleep.  So, when do I get the surge of energy?  I have cloth napkins to make, a house to clean, and other stuff to make!  What the heck!

We still have a huge list of stuff to do… like pack the bags, install the carseat (and find the carseat), clean out the SUV, mow the shaggy lawn, and stuff like that.  Oh and clean the house.  Bleh.

“So, what kind of church is this?”  My little younger brother asked of my approaching baptism.

“Oh, you know…the usual,”  I replied, “black hooded capes and candles and stuff.  You know..the usual.”

“Of course,” he said.

(NOTE:  SARCASM)

This baptism was a little less nerve-wracking than my first – or, I would imagine, anyhow.  I wore a cute little white frilly thing for my first baptism, and this past Easter Sunday, I stood in front of my closet trying to decide between a pair of gray drawstring pants or khaki capris – the only two pairs of “pants” that still fit me (with the exception of some very HOT blue and yellow spongebob pajama pants).  It was a tough call, but ultimately I went with the capris after having carefully calculated exactly who had seen me in which bottoms the most that previous week.

S and I arrived at the church early for an Easter “break-fast”, leaving L to come in time for the services with my mom.  I took advantage of the smorgasborg and piled my plate high, knowing that soon I’d have to move back to pants that use real buttons rather than elastic bands.  Besides, Aurora made me.

The service itself was great, well…except for one thing.  I really thought Mike was going to break out into a solo with his microphone but alas, he did not.  My disappointment dissipated quickly, though, as it WAS Easter – that, and my attention span was burning a little short thanks to the (delicious) breakfast we’d had earlier.

As I waddled walked out the side door to prepare for the baptism, L screamed her protest.  I swear the kid wanted NOTHING to do with me until the moment she thought I was going somewhere.  So, we went ahead and brought her to the back.  I was handed something that looked much like a summertime blue space suit – and despite my request to have one specially trimmed in white lace, I ended up donning the suit as was.  I’m sure they simply forgot.

I had also discussed with certain members that I would like my own theme song and some special back-lighting.  I figured if they’d just hold me up as I entered the water, I could do some fancy footwork and make this a service nobody would soon forget.  Instead, they just stared at me.

“What?  You mean I actually have to walk down the steps by myself?  Or, do I wait for you to push me?”

They let me walk.

I do have to say, though – they did warm the water up quite nicely and the area really is the perfect size for a water birth.  And, much closer to hospitals (just in case).  So…I’m thinking…

Anyways, it was great and wonderful (even without the theme music, lace, and lighting), but I’m pretty sure I traumatized my poor sweet L – seeing as how she screamed bloody murder when I went underwater.  After that, she wouldn’t leave my side until I was dressed and standing out front again with all sorts of plugs and outlets nearby to play with.  Sorry kid, I know it was your birthday and Easter and all, but I thought it’d be fun to make you think I was being drowned (I maybe should’ve explained what was going to happen to you first?)

Oh…and I’m a little upset that nobody told me you’d only be able to see my hairline and up since I’m so short.  Had I known, I’d totally have packed some moon-shoes and hair-sprayed my hair up into a cute but very large beehive so at least people could see my hair.  Just sayin’.

That – and, a trapeze or some dolphins.  Oh, and the stairs coming down?  Totally needs to be a water slide.  For real.

But really…it was perfect.

(My hot attire without the lace I requested)

(No wonder L screamed.  It does kind of look like he’s drowning me – which he wasn’t.)

(This should so be a slide.  That, and Steven thinks I look like Mary here.  A very pregnant Mary with swollen ankles.  And no lace.)

Little white bunnies freak me out.

Mostly, it’s the red eyes, I think. The bloody redness and oh, the fact that it reminds me of BUNNICULA. Am I seriously the only one who read that book in grade school? Why can’t white bunnies just have…purple eyes. Or beady black eyes. Can’t we just tape some googly eyes on them and pretend that’s how they come? Oh wait, animal cruelty, right.

I just had to get that off my chest…which is not to insinuate I have bunnies lying on my chest. I give up. Moving on.

A few months ago, I found my doula. And, she invited me to her church. I decided to go just for the heck of it – I really had no real reason to go, seeing as I’m Catholic and this isn’t a Catholic church…it just seemed like the thing to do at the time. I really can’t explain it. I wasn’t going FOR anyone and I really didn’t know WHY I was going…I just was. And I did. And it was great.

So, I kept going. Then, as my husband and my relationship began to strengthen again, I invited him to come with us – and he liked it too. It was different. We’ve church hopped enough to know pretty quickly how to blend in and then run if called for…but, there was none of that at this church. We’d been awed before by the beautiful architecture of churches we’d attended, by the great amount of classrooms for excruciatingly set up for tiny hands, and elaborate choirs with some of the pretty music ever. But, with this church…there was something different. Something else captured our hearts.

At first, we couldn’t put our finger on it…and then we found it. It was the people. Generally, out here where we live, (or in our experience) small churches generally mean very close-minded “old” views. But, not here. No, here it was small and close-knit where people know each other and they STILL liked them! It was a place filled with all sorts of people and no Bible bashing or smack talking behind pews. I’ve been a part of churches where everyone knows each other’s names, but there was always that gossip-y feel to it. Here, if you get sick, people band together to bring you food. Here, if you do something stupid, people may call you out on it but they do it with love and they hold your hand ANYWAYS.

What’s more is they WANT to grow. To continue growing…in their faith and outreach and everything else. To me…that’s pretty much amazing. It’s like God made this church with me in mind. The pastor will straight up tell you that he doesn’t believe any one faith has it completely right, that we all have much to learn from everyone….Do you know how refreshing that is to hear after being basically told that MY FAITH wasn’t good enough only 6 months ago by someone else?

So, this Sunday I’ll be getting baptized.

“Oh, but weren’t you already baptized? I thought you are Catholic?!”

Yep. I’ve officially been baptized. As a Catholic baby. And, funny enough I’m not doing this to be saved or for an extra double punch on my ticket to heaven. Because, while some people can answer the questions of “When did you come to Christ” with an exact date, I can tell you that I was born and baptized into the Christian faith and that every day of my life has been a walk with God…honest. There were days when I ran from Him, trying to hide of course and days where I thought I probably knew better than Him. There were days when I was angry with Him because I didn’t like how things were going, but every day of my life has been a walk with Him. I never doubted that. And, no matter where I tried to hide, He always found me and wrapped me up in love. Sunday, though, will be a day that I get to experience an extra blessing (as it was put to me) – the experience to be baptized in a DIFFERENT way, to experience baptism by immersion. I will still be Ashley, and I’ll still be the girl who refuses to follow all of the rules at once, making them up as I go. I won’t suddenly have a new way of believing things and I won’t be letting go of all I’ve learned. Sunday night, my faith will still resemble a beautiful mosaic of colorful glass pieces from every life lesson and God lesson I’ve learned, regardless which faith (or how) it came to me.

And, I find it a bit humorous that by default Aurora will be baptized on Sunday, too. Can you imagine the possible future conversation?:

“So, Aurora…have you been baptized BY IMMERSION yet?”
“Oh yes. On April 12, 2009, Actually.”
“Wait. Right here it says your birthdate was April 20, 2009. Do we need to change your records?”
“No. You have it right.”

I’m secretly trying to figure out how to go into labor in the baptismal font. I’d get a free water birth and THEY would be the first church in (recent) history (maybe) that baptized a baby by IMMERSION.