So, are you gonna have any more?

We've been asked at least a thousand times if we wanted a big family from the beginning. In short, the answer to that is no.

For the most part, Luke and I both grew up as only children. When we were doing premarriage counseling, we only skimmed the surface of talking about the size of the family we would have. Maybe 3, I think, was the number we settled on.

But here's the problem. We went from 1 baby to 3 babies in just 2 pregnancies spaced apart by only 22 months. From double coverage to zone coverage. We never played man-to-man coverage. And the biggest problem of all?

Hello, my name is Jessica and I am addicted to newborns.

I just love everything about them. From their too-big skin, to the tiny noises they make to the way they stick their tiny little butts out when they stretch. And the head smell? Intoxicating. I read recently that there was a scientific study that confirmed that there really is a chemical reaction that occurs in women when they smell the head of a newborn. What person on earth didn't already know this was happening?

But you know what else I love? All of it. 

I love the 6 month old who belly laughs at the ridiculousness of her 8 year old sister. Because, y'all, this right here makes me want to have 8 more. I can't even handle that laugh.

The two year old with the butt cheek hanging out of her panties? I love that. The way she calls EVERY.SINGLE.BUG. a "pink bug!" (stink bug). The way she seems to grow during just one nap time and wakes up speaking in fuller sentences than she did just a couple hours ago, makes my head spin and my heart swell.

The 4 year old who is old enough to understand how to make a joke and is usually the first to laugh at their own hilarity. The 6 year old who begins to read overnight and the almost 10 year old who has her own style. I mean, those boots. That skirt. I couldn't pull that off, ever. I mean, hello, SIDE PONYTAIL.

I love it. All of it. This gig of motherhood and watching these people grow is, by far, the best thing I've ever been allowed to experience. I just knew Ella would be our last biological baby. And then, well, Abigail happened.

I just knew Abigail would be the last birth, nursing experience and toddler that would come from my womb. And, you know, EVELYN.

I'm so glad we didn't stop having babies at our predetermined number of 3. I can't imagine all the life, laughter and joy we'd have missed out on.* Yes, it's hard. It's hard a lot lately. Luke and I haven't had a date in WAY TOO LONG. Every night, I fall into bed for a couple hours before I begin the up and down that is my nighttime. I'm exhausted and tired and I would love to have a couple of hours to myself every day just to sit in silence. I think about a few years from now if we don't have any more babies and all the ways our lives would seemingly be easier. But I know that easy is a lie that Moms buy all the time. No matter how many kids you have your life as a mom is never easy.

Is Evelyn our last baby? Who knows. We've always kept the option of adoption open. I don't plan on being pregnant again. Ever. Ever.

But I've said that before. And each of those time I really meant it.

And if I watch that video of Evelyn belly laughing enough, I'll toss that idea right out the window. Or maybe not. Maybe we will stick to it and not birth anymore babies and adopt a few kids who need a large, crazy family and live out our days.

So to answer the question of all of you nosey people who ask me while standing in the grocery store people want to know, I'm sure:

Are you going to have any more babies?

Short answer. Probably not. But who knows. Because all of this, this life. It's hard. But then my almost 6 month old belly laughs and my ovaries kick into high gear and I question every oath I took during her pregnancy that I would never, ever, ever again do this. And I maybe send my husband a text about wanting a homebirth next time. So, you know, there's THAT.

I'm off to watch that video of my baby belly laughing while simultaneously taking whiffs of hot trash in our garbage dumpster so I can remember what morning sickness feels like.

-----

* By no means do I think that having 3 kids or less means you're missing out or that everyone should have a big, crazy, colony of kids. I'm just saying that for us, stopping at 3 wouldn't have been right.

Evelyn's birth story

My Evelyn's birth was, by far, the most dramatic of all our children's births. 

I was 40 weeks and 5 days pregnant at my Friday afternoon appointment. Earlier that day I posted a semi-snarky status on facebook about people NOT asking me if I have "had that baby yet" because clearly, I was still pregnant and there wasn't photos of a cute, newborn baby blowing up their newsfeeds.

My OB had told me the week before that, unlike Ella (who I carried 42 weeks 2 (3?) days), he wouldn't be in favor of letting me go much past 41 weeks gestation because of my gestational diabetes. I blew his comment off at my 39 week appointment because my OB is very laid back about due dates and birth and very much in favor of letting a woman's body gestate for as long as is healthy for the mother and baby.

However, when my blood pressure showed to be up just a little bit, he began talking inductions. Abigail is the ONLY baby I have not be induced with. And she came 5 days before her due date in a glorious, pitocin free labor and birth. Remember?

Anyway, my OB, who is a pretty laid back kind of guy started strongly suggesting that I get induced THAT AFTERNOON. I just sat and looked at him, stone faced. Certain that if I said nothing he'd send me on my merry way and I'd have another natural labor and birth. Right? He wasn't catching my drift. "I get the feeling you aren't a fan of being induced," he said. I explained to him my loathing of pitocin and how I'm sure it's extracted from the veins of the devil before it's placed into the IV's of large, desperate, pregnant women who just want to meet their babies already. Ahem.

My OB typed some things onto his computer and said, "Well, let's check your cervix and see what our options are." I was 3cm dilated.

I tried to coax my OB into letting me wait a little longer but at the end of our appointment he had convinced me that inducing was our best option with the elevated blood pressure and all. He is really very kind and very much takes into account the desires of his patients. So when he didn't back down about the induction, I knew he was serious.

I immediately began feeling anxiety well up within me. This would be my 4th induction. I knew what pitocin did to my body and I really wanted to try to avoid an epidural again. I texted a few friends asking them to pray for my anxious heart and I drove myself to the chiropractor for one more adjustment before calling labor and delivery to see what time they wanted me to show up.

I'd been having contractions on and off for about a week but they were never consistent and they weren't terribly painful. More of a nuisance, really. Especially when I was trying to sleep or lay down. I called L&D and they told me to show up about 4:00-4:30pm. I called Luke to come home from work and went home to tell the kids.

I got to the hospital and checked into L&D by 5:30pm. They did all my paperwork, started a saline lock IV, asked me a bazillion questions. Then, the midwife came in for us to talk about our induction options. (The OB went off-call at 5:00pm and the midwife was on call for the weekend.) I had discussed with the OB having the midwife just break my water and try to start labor that way. But after talking with the midwife, and Luke (who knows my laboring body almost as well as I do) we decided that the lowest, slowest IV of pitocin would be the best approach. So at 7:00pm we began the drip of pitocin. It immediately made my sporadic contractions consistent, even though the intensity and pain of them didn't increase much. We bumped up the pitocin every hour (compared to every half hour for a normal induction).

The nursed checked me at about 1:30am and I was 5-6cm dilated. We bumped up the pitocin one final time and that's when the intense contractions began. I was finally in transition! Luke and I have a "dance" we do when I'm in transition. I simply CANNOT sit or lay down during transition contractions because the pain is just too intense. He knows, once my hands go from low to up around his neck, it's serious.

For about an hour, from 1:45am until 2:45am my contractions were hard, consistent and every 3 or so minutes apart. My disposition changed and I told Amanda, who was in the room with us, along with my Mom and Dad, to text a couple friends and tell them that I was certainly in transition, because I knew they'd know how to pray me through. Luke and I did our "dance" that full hour. The contractions got harder, but I knew that they were bringing forth our daughter. And y'all, Luke is an AMAZING laboring partner. He knows when to hold me up, when to whisper encouragements, when to pray over me, when to get me water and when to be my advocate. I don't know how I'd make it through childbirth without him by my side. He's my prophet, provider, protector and priest in every sense of the word during those hours.

I don't think I'll ever forget opening the door to the bathroom (after changing into that sexy hospital gown and before all the induction business got started) and seeing my husband, kneeling on the labor room floor, his hands outstretched to cover the hospital bed, and him praying over it. That is why it's so easy to submit to him and why it's so easy to be his wife.

Anyway, back to birth. At 2:45am the nurse called the midwife. I labored those last 15 minutes literally hanging from Luke's neck. I'm pretty sure the last 3 contractions I had standing up, he was literally holding me up. The pressure was so intense, I just knew that the midwife would come in and simply catch our baby. I was that close to delivery. Or so I thought.

The midwife came in about 3:00am. She checked me to see how dilated I was. I was 6 cm. SIX CENTIMETERS. I felt defeated. And confused. I looked at Luke and the look on his face was exactly how I felt. It simply wasn't possible I was only 6cm because we'd just done our transition dance for the last hour. I think we were both completely thrown off our game. I remember telling Luke and the midwife that it was time to call for an epidural because I knew I could not make it another hour (my usual transition from 6-7cm to fully dilated) with the pain I was in. For whatever reason, it was decided that I wouldn't get an epidural but instead they'd give me some stadol and turn off the pitocin. I remember asking the midwife if I could push because I felt so much pressure. She told me I could not and that if I did, I would risk tearing my cervix. She did say that if it helped with the pain, I could bear down.

So here I am, in the bed, laying on my side and the contractions are not getting any easier to manage. It was the most intense, painful thing I've ever felt in my life. It felt nothing like my labor with Abigail, where it just felt like my pelvis would snap in half. It was an all consuming pain. My entire body hurt with each contraction. It was horrible. I began begging and pleading with Luke to find the midwife (who had left the room at that point) and to demand for her to call the anesthesiologist. I begged and pleaded and told him that it was just too painful and I simply could not bear it. It was too much. This went on for I think 3 or so contractions (remember - 3 or so minutes apart - so by now it's 3:09ish). The nurse put on another sterile glove to check me since I was obviously in major pain. Then, the next contraction came. I remembered what the midwife had said about bearing down. I knew I had to do something to help with the pain because, y'all, I HAVE NEVER.

So, I just decided to bear down a teeny, tiny bit. Apparently that was the only cue my body needed. Natural instinct took over and my body began to all out push. I was still laying on my side and I said, out loud, "She's coming now!" The nurse pulled back the cover and apparently got the clue that I was NOT at 6cm any longer. She walked to the door to get the midwife and I remember my Mom saying, "Her head is out!"

The nurse walked back around the foot of the bed just as my body pushed one last time. She caught Evelyn with one hand, the one that had the glove, thankfully. I have photos of her holding Evelyn with one hand trying to pull up my gown for skin to skin while the midwife is still putting on her gloves. I'd post one here but this is a co-ed blog (I think?) and while it doesn't show any "areas" of me (because the bed wasn't broken down and I wasn't even in stirrups!) it is a little, um, special. But if you know me in real life and come over, I'll show you.

At 3:12am our Evelyn Love was born. (At about 3:00am I was still 6cm. It was crazy fast.)

My poor husband y'all. I remember about the time this picture was taken. I was looking at my baby and something was dripping on my arm. IT WAS MY HUSBAND'S TEARS. Later, he told me that he's never seen me in that much pain and it was torture to know that he could do nothing about it.

Look at his hand on my face. I can't even look at these without tearing up. In that top photo, he hasn't even looked at his daughter yet. He was so concerned for me.

I nursed her for that first hour and she latched on like a champ. Also, THE STADOL FINALLY KICKED IN and my husband, my parents and Amanda were laughing at me hysterically. Apparently, I was slurring my speech and totally blitzed, as is evidenced by the photo below. I didn't feel loopy but I do remember thinking that it was really hard to blink.

Once our Love had finished nursing, Luke escorted her to the newborn nursery. And I did what any drunk person who hasn't eaten in 12 hours would do, I sent my dad to IHOP. No longer a diabetic, I wanted the LARGEST stack of pancakes he could carry back to the hospital. With syrup. An IV of syrup, please. And some juice.

Our girl weighed in as the biggest baby we've ever had. A whopping 8 pounds, 4 ounces and 21 inches long. The cheeks. I'm sure there's a pound of baby in each one.

The next morning (read: 5 hours later) our kids came to the hospital to meet their newest sibling.

They were all SO excited. Elizabeth was so thrilled that she couldn't contain her tears of joy. (Take a hard look at that photo above.) I was so worried that she was upset. But when she finally made it over to the bed all she could tell me was, "I'm just so, so happy she's here!"

Elizabeth has been the first to hold every baby in our family, as is expected since she's the oldest. But Ashlee is, in fact, a baby addict. I think she gets high off baby head sniffs. Luke and I decided that this time, Ashlee would be the first to hold the baby. Her face when I put Evelyn in her arms was priceless.

Even Abigail was smitten and totally thrilled with her new sister.

Our first family of TEN photo. Please ignore the face of Lucas. He hadn't held Evelyn yet and wasn't too happy about it.

The entire experience was unlike any other birth I've experienced. Which is true for our precious, baby girl - she's her own person. She's a delight to us all. We all take turns kissing her big, chubby cheeks and doting on her. I have a feeling she will be spoiled by all 9 of us. Just you wait.

Welcome to the world Evelyn!

Well, I guess better late than never, huh?

Earlier this month, we welcomed our precious Baby #8.

Evelyn Love

8lb 4oz, 21 inches long

born at 3:12am 

(middle of the night births are HARD to recover from, y'alll)

I'll post her birth story and more photos soon, or when she decides to stop nursing for stretches longer than 20 minutes.

She is a delight to us all and the main topics of conversations in our house now include whose turn it is to hold her, how often she needs to drink Mommy's milk and how totally cute and adorable her (insert any random feature) is.

Indeed, we are in love. Pun totally intended.

Also, have you ever seen a belly button like that? It totally freaked me out. Look how long the skin is! Stay tuned for her birth story. It's unlike any of my previous births. She entered the world in her own, special way. And I'm so thrilled to hold her on the outside. You just have no idea.

Abigail's birth story

Luke just swept all six older kids out the door and to Elizabeth's last basketball practice, which means I have approximately 15 minutes to catch you up to speed on what happened over our long, exciting, exhausting weekend. (I started this post on March 9th, by the way, so now all the kids are tucked into bed and Luke is watching March Madness. It's only taken me 8 days to get back to finishing this post. I can't quit snuggling my newborn.)

Incase you haven't heard, I HAD A BABY! Before my due date, without being induced.

Y'all, it's a miracle. I'm serious.

First of all, on Friday around lunchtime, Lucas fell and busted his mouth pretty bad. It required a trip to the oral surgeon to get stitched up. He's doing pretty good now, most of his swelling is gone but he's still pretty bruised. That's a whole post within itself. But I tell you that to say that on Friday, while we were going all over the place to get his mouth evaluated I had several contractions. They were very sporadic and I knew they were because of stress. By the time things calmed down on Friday night, they'd subsided.

Flash forward to Monday morning. I woke up feeling fine. My Mom texted me and asked if she could bring dinner.

Um. Yes! Do I ever say no to that?

She asked what I would like and I, jokingly said "hospital food."

About 10:30 I noticed I was having several contractions and figured I should probably time them. I wasn't getting my hopes up because, honestly, they really didn't hurt too much. I figured they were probably Braxton Hicks (who is that guy anyway?) and that they'd pass.

Later, I went to the bathroom and noticed that I had lost a bit of my mucus plug. Again, I didn't think too much about it because I was taking some Mucinex medicine for the cough/cold the kids had so generously passed to me.

Share their cookies or dessert? Never. Share the kennel cough? Always.

Anyway, over the next hour I had several more contractions and continued with my pee-every-10-minutes habit. On the 3rd trip to the bathroom it was obvious that I was really loosing my mucus plug and these contractions, though inconsistent in time, were the real thing.

I called my OB's office. Since my uterus is so floppy, he'd told me to call and come in at the first sign of labor so that they could ensure that Baby Girl was head down. I got to the OB about 1:00 the nurse practitioner checked me and said I was a "loose 1." When she stripped my membranes though she said I stretched to 3 cm and not be surprised if I was a 2 upon leaving.

My mom and I grabbed some lunch and my contractions became a bit more intense as well as consistent. They were every 8-12 minutes but I was still able to talk through them. I decided to see if the chiropractor could get me in that day since I was hopeful I'd be giving birth in the next 24-36 hours (little did I know it would be sooner than that!).

I left the chiropractor's office about 3:30 and headed home with contractions coming about every 10 minutes. I called our babysitter/nanny Amanda and asked her if she'd stay for a while so that I could go for a walk when I got home in the hopes of getting these contractions a little closer together.

At this point, I was still not getting my hopes up. I was seriously thinking that it could all just stop or, worse, it could last for days. After all, I was hardly dilated at the doctor just a few hours earlier.

I got home and went for a very short walk because it was super cold outside. My friend Brittany came over (to walk with me) but by the time she got there, contractions were every 7-9 minutes apart. I called Luke about 4:15 and told him he'd better head on home. He got home about 4:45 at which time my contractions were every 3.5 - 5 minutes and we left for the hospital shortly afterwards.

We got to the hospital about 5:30. I was checked into the Labor and Delivery suite, the nurse checked me and I was about 5 cm. Within 30 minutes intense contractions began. You know, the ones where you feel like your pelvis is literally going to snap in half?

I had wanted so much to go into labor on my own and next to that I wanted to try to deliver without an epidural. Don't ask me why. I can't answer that. But I'd had epidurals with every other pregnancy and they'd only half taken so I figured I could do it without one. Luke was an amazing support for me. He kept praying over me and telling me that I could do it, even though I had some serious doubts as to whether or not I'd lost my mind wanting to do this thing delivery thing at all, much less without meds.

About 6:15 the nurse checked me and I was at 7cm. I labored about 30 more minutes and started wondering why labor and delivery had always been my favorite part of pregnancy. I'm pretty sure I thought I was going to fall into a heap of pain and misery right there on the floor of the delivery room. And I probably would have too had I not been so worried about not being able to get up. At about 6:50pm I asked the nurse to check me again. I figured if I wasn't progressing, then I'd go ahead and get the epidural. I was at an 8.5cm. The OB was called and he took a SWEET FOREVER TO GET THERE. I think he decided to walk backwards on his hands up to the labor and delivery suite.

Ahem. Not really. But it felt that way.

The OB finally arrived, I pushed for about 15 minutes and at 7:28pm Abigail Mercy drew her first breath.

Experiencing labor and delivery without an induction and without an epidural was just another confirmation that labor and delivery are indeed my favorite part of pregnancy. You know, besides that little part of pregnancy where you get a baby at the end.

We are all so completely in love with little Abigail and now, 12 days later, I'm finding it hard to remember what life was like without her.

All of the children are smitten with her. They ask me 7,592 times a day if they can hold her. Then they just sit and stare at her. I think we're all in awe that God has blessed us, yet again, with a beautiful, healthy baby.

Ella calls her "Baybay Ab-duh-dayle" and screeches every time she sees her. I keep waiting for her excitement with having a new baby to wear off, but so far it hasn't. She's just so sweet with her.

My amazingly talented and incredibly generous friend Lindsey was present in the delivery room and took the breathtaking photos you see here. You can see more by clicking here. Her photos make birth look like a fairy tale, don't they? I love that she stands with me in awe at the miracle of childbirth. What a blessing to be able to watch your children enter the world.

Ella's Birth Story

First of all, can I just say that I can never decide if it's appropriate to capitalize the first letter in each word of the post's title, or if it's better to just make the first word capitalized and the rest lower case.

I mull over it every time I post, which shows you just where my true obsessions lie. Clearly NOT in housekeeping or homemaking or whatever my supposed title is.

Okay, so I thought maybe 2 of you might care about Ella's birth story. And if I don't write it out somewhere I'll forget most of it and this is, afterall, my best option for "writing it down."

42 weeks. Who in the heck is pregnant for 42 weeks?

Apparently, me.

42 weeks and 1 day if you want to get technical, and we all know I'm a stickler for details...not. Anyway, at my 42 week check up on Monday the 22nd, Dr. D said that the ultrasound showed some signs of calcification on the baby's placenta. He noted that at that point it wasn't a huge deal but if left in there the baby might show more signs of distress during labor and delivery. So, he suggested (actually pretty much stated) that I be induced the following morning. He tossed around the idea of just sending me straight over to the hospital right then, but I'm fairly certain that the look of panic that swept across Luke's face upon hearing those words changed Dr. D's mind.

Clearly God has it in our best interest for us to have each of our childrens' birth's scheduled, if for no other reason than for my husband's sanity.

So, I enjoyed my last day of pregnancy and did all the things a pregnant woman does who is delivering a baby the next day.

I went to Walmart.

Clearly the mecca of pregnant women everywhere who are 42+ weeks pregnant.

I stocked up on frozen food items so that our sweet babysitter would have plenty of options for food choices. I then spent approximately 72.5 hours on the phone arranging alternate childcare for all 5 kids while our babysitter was in class from 11-4 on Tuesday. See, attention to details. Or not.

It was a magical day that gave me ample time to reflect on the daunting and miraculous change my body was about to undergo.

Notsomuch.

I slept about 21 minutes on Monday night because I bounced back and forth between excited, nervous and the bathroom (thanks to a bladder the size of a raisin).

At 6:00am I called up to the Labor and Delivery suite and sure enough they had room for my, now medically necessary, induction. At 6:30am Luke and I shuffle out to the car, hit up a drive thru for some breakfast biscuits and my stomach really begins to turn from the anxiety of it all.

When I was induced the first time, with Elizabeth, I had just about no anxiety. This being the third time I was being induced, I knew what was coming. Which I'm not so sure was a good thing, at least not for my nerves.

We get to the hospital and sit for a sweet forever in the admitting office, which I'm sure is dramatically less climactic than rushing through the doors of the ER screaming that I'm in labor and to get this baby out now. Although I thought about doing just that to the ladies in the admitting office but judging from their lack of urgency I don't think it would have gotten me very far.

I walk waddle up to labor and delivery, get settled in, and finally Dr. D comes in to break my water. We opted to do this first and for me to try to avoid pitocin at all costs. However, after several attempts to break my water, Dr. D is still unsure if he's actually ruptured me. He said that there was very little water around the baby and he couldn't be sure. So, I could either start pitocin right then, or wait and see if my water was indeed broken and contractions would begin on their own.

I decided to see if I'd start contracting on my own. An hour later I was still contractionless and I asked for the devil drug also known as pitocin. Like I said before, I really believe now that pitocin is extracted straight from the veins of the devil before it is put in the IV of laboring women.

I continued to kick Luke's butt in a serious game of scrabble and after about and hour and half of pitocin I threw the scrabble board at Luke's head because IT HURT THAT MUCH.

Actually, that's a lie. It did hurt but we were totally playing scrabble on the computer not on a game board. PS: Laptops can be flung like a frisbees.

I was really hoping I could go without an epidural this time around. Don't ask me why I wanted to do that. Apparently I thought I would enjoy the feeling of my pelvis breaking in half.

I got my epidural around 2:00ish and at that time I was dilated to about 6 cm. And, about 2 hours later I was fully dilated and ready to push. Like, really ready to push. Like, feeling THAT feeling ready to push.

But, Dr. D wasn't there yet so I just had to wait.

Mmmkay, I doubt any doctors read my blog but if there ever happens to be one, PLEASE know that telling a fully dilated woman that she shouldn't push doesn't make it easier to not want to push. In fact, I'd venture to guess that it makes a fully dilated pregnant woman want to push even more. I'm just sayin'.

Dr. D gets there and as he is "suiting up" with his back to me he says, "Okay, I'm here now. Do whatever you feel like you need to do."

In which I say to his BACK, "You may wanna turn around because I don't think this is going to take long."

Sure enough, I pushed about 4 times and heard the words I'd been waiting to hear for a sweet 42 weeks and 1 day...

"It's a girl!"

And at that same time I heard the best sound in the entire world, the cry of a sweet newborn baby.

God is so good. And, I love this little girl beyond what my words could express.

It's a GIRL!

Introducing....

Ella Joy

7lbs 11oz, 21 inches

4:17pm

The LORD has done great things for us,
and we are filled with JOY.

~ Psalm 126:3

Breakable Walls

Today has been a struggle. I found out from Baby D's social worker (different from our social worker, yes that makes 2 so far) that the first scheduled visit with birth parents is in the morning. Not only that, but because of some weird scheduling issues, I'll most likely be present and in the same room for most of the visit. It is unavoidable. My heart is torn. While I know it's beneficial, it also makes me nervous. So much rides on these visits. Will they say the right things just to be saying them? Will the social worker see if they are being fake? (A 3rd social worker, in case you're counting). Will they want him back? Will they want to let him go? Will they even know what they want this early in the game?

Earlier today as I struggled through these emotions I felt the Lord calling me. Even though the twins were waking up, I shut off the monitor and spent some time with God. I did my daily work from Experiencing God and realized that all God was asking me to do was pray and wait. I am so much a "get it done" kind of girl. If I know something needs to be fixed, I want to fix it. If I see that a conversation needs to be had, I wanna talk about it. If I think that something is about to happen, I want it to get here and get gone. On a side note: I am NOT this proactive with the cleanliness of my home, dirty laundry, etc. Guess you can't have it all, huh?

Anyway, as I finished up my daily work with Henry Blackaby, I felt God saying "Pray." So, I prayed. I told God that I wasn't sure how I was suppose to feel. I told Him that I knew there were walls around my heart. I told Him that I was struggling to find balance. I told Him I knew He'd heard my prayers and that He would answer. Still feeling the call to Jeremiah 29:11(as I had since I first heard about Baby D), I decided I'd read the entire 29th chapter of Jeremiah. Can I just tell you how cool God is?

Let me set the stage. Jeremiah the prophet is writing a letter to the exiles from Jerusalem. These people had been banished from Jerusalem to Babylon by King Nebuchadnezzar. In the letter Jeremiah basically tells them that God has spoken to him and His message to the people is that they should get comfortable (my translation, not NIV). God said to them:

"Build houses and settle down; plant gardens and eat what they produce. Marry and have sons and daughters; find wives for your sons and give your daughters in marriage, so that they too may have sons and daughters. Increase in number there; do not decrease." v. 5-6

Clearly they'd been asking God, "What do we do? How do we live? How long will this last?" Hummm....those questions sounded familiar to my pleading heart.

Basically, they are to carry on with their lives as normal. Normal? Really? Come on God! Nothing about this is normal! I have some other woman's baby in my home. I'm suppose to treat this baby normally? Like mine? Go about my life as if he were my own?

In that still, small voice I hear, "Yes." I'm totally floored. I prayed and asked and He made known. Now that I had my answer, I had to pray the hardest part yet. "Father, tear down the walls. Tear them down so that I can love this sweet baby as my own. Keep me from being guarded. Open my heart to him. Let me love."

I left my quiet time and continued on with my day. All 4 kids woke up, had a snack and we went out to play in the sand and water. Later, I brought Baby D upstairs and started getting dinner ready. I was feeding him his bottle when it hit me like a hurricane. "You're mine," I whispered softly, "and I'll love you as long as God lets me." Even now, typing those words brings tears to my eyes. I sat with Baby D, on our couch and the flood gates opened. God slowly and faithfully tore down each and every brick from around my heart. I cuddled, kissed and allowed this child into my heart. I promised him I'd love him forever, whether he's in our home or not. I allowed my soul to birth one more child. My heart divided once more, but this time making enough room for one more tiny person.

Today, I became a mother to 4.

May the words of my mouth and
the meditation of my heart be pleasing in your sight,
O LORD, my Rock and my Redeemer.
~ Psalm 19:13

(Yes, that is Baby D's preciousness pictured!)

Happy Birthday Lucas! Happy Birthday Ashlee!

Today my babies turn 2! Part of me can hardly believe that it's only been 2 years since they were born. In the same breath, it feels like they just arrived yesterday.





Lucas Marvin
Born at 1:18pm
5 lbs 2oz, 19 inches

Ashlee Faith

3:42pm
(yes, that's correct)

5lbs 13oz, 19.5 inches

Since the day they were born, they've each been unique. Lucas is usually very serious and "all boy." Ashlee began her life as a drama queen and has never looked back (notice the 2.5 hour delay between their births)! In the two brief years they've been on this earth, they've taught me so much about being a mother and follower of Christ. It hasn't always been easy, but their lives have given me joy each and every day.

Lucas,

You're such the little man. You want to do everything your big sister does (plus some). You love to "help" Daddy. You are strong willed and determined. I know that if I do my job and train you properly, you will use that strong will of yours for the Lord to further His kingdom. You are a very serious little boy, but you also know how to be silly. When you belly laugh, you make our whole family crack up!


Ashlee,

I've never met a little girl as loving as you! You are constantly offering hugs, "sugar-lips" and affection. God knew just what I needed when He made you my daughter!! I treasure the endless kisses and hugs. You have a fiery temper to match that beautiful red hair. I pray, that as I parent you, you will learn to focus that "passion" toward our Savior, and win people for Him.

You both make my heart swell with joy and pride.

I love you,

Mommy