1%

1%.  You don't think about the 1% risk in anything until it happens to you.

Choosing a delivery plan seemed like a secondary decision at the time.  I was honestly more concerned about my plan for who was going to take care of Sydney when we went to the hospital. Sydney was breech and was born via cesarean years prior.  Our second pregnancy was routine, best case scenario, in fact.  Baby Kate was healthy, I felt great, tired, and huge.  My doctor was very informative, upfront, and positive about the potential of a VBAC (Vaginal Birth After Cesarean). This was our plan all along, as long as it was safe and best for mom and baby.

My water broke at 39 weeks, the morning of our planned dr visit to discuss our delivery options...  Ironic, huh. Arriving at the hospital, all was routine, normal, as it should have been.  An interesting piece of my story is that one of my closest friends delivered Kate. She was in her chief residency year at the hospital and knew our family well. Having Tara there through the process, before, during, and after, was, and has been, incredibly comforting. I'll fast forward through the 20 hour day until that night.  It was time to push.  I tried to push, what you feel like pushing is with an epidural.  And it's the most intense few minutes of your life as a new mom... This moment of anticipation and pure exhaustion and fear and nerves... and then the pain started.  It was in a specific place- sharp, and intense. This pain succeeded the epidural.  Unknown to me at the moment, it was not labor pain, it was something much worse. Tara realized sweet baby Kate was a big girl, over 9 lb. big, and needed some assistance coming out. A few pushing attempts later and Kate was born! Beautiful, healthy, full head of hair.  Tara handed her to me to hold on my chest and it was then that I couldn't breathe. I couldn't hold her, I could barely look at her.  (I'll revisit this moment later.)  I looked up at Tara and said there's something wrong.  I'm in pain.  Sam and nurses whisked Kate away and my doctors quickly examined.  Seconds later, I was being prepped for the OR.  I don't remember much about these moments, but I know there was 15 minutes.  15 minutes between Kate's first breath of life and me nodding off in the OR.  My uterus had ruptured.  There is a 1% chance of a uterine rupture during a VBAC. So unlikely, so rare, and it was me.  I woke up to a blue sheet.  I tell friends that I saw blue and heard voices and I thought I was either in heaven or the OR.  Then I heard Tara's voice, that familiar sweet voice, who reassured me everything was okay.  That is a defining moment for me thinking of this day.  Someone you know and trust telling you that you made it and everything is okay.  My uterus ruptured across, up, over.  It was bad. The amount of blood loss was also bad.  Choosing 2 blood transfusions was imperative for my recovery to speed up and to even have the option of nursing. Sparing the details I hardly know myself, my doctors saved my life that day, along with my newborn daughter.

A 5 day hospital stay followed.  Physical, emotional, mental, spiritual battles then followed every day those first few weeks.  Can I stand up?  Can I hold my child?  Can I nurse?  Can I shower? How many people do I let help me?  How do I ever thank my husband for all he has done?  How do I ever express my gratitude to my parents for being there?  Will I ever feel like myself again? Why did this happen to me, God? and then... Why spare me, God?

Some of these questions came moments later, others followed weeks and months later.  That's what happens when one experiences a severe, traumatic moment in life. One of my traumatic memories that replays in my head is the moment I held Kate for the first time and I couldn't freeze that beautiful moment in time.  I was in so much pain and mid rupture, I couldn't be present in that moment.  That made me more sad than the surgery to follow.  This was a moment I so looked forward to, the moment people post pictures of, and write songs about.  And I was too pain stricken to hold her.  What trumps that moment is all of the times I get to hold her now- rocking, cuddling, playing, watching her smile and learn and grow. I get all of those!  So, sure her delivery was not as I hoped for or planned.  But, the goal of a delivery is for a healthy baby to be brought into this world.  And that was accomplished. The wonderful thing about my traumatic experience is that... it produced life.  Our pastor talked today about scars.  And how scars are proof there was once a wound and now it is healed.  That healing happens because of Jesus. I have a 5" scar across my lower torso. It's healed as expected and no one will see it, but it's there and there isn't a day that goes by I don't know it, see it, feel it.  But oh my goodness, it produced life. 2 lives.  My beautiful baby Kate and my spunky Sydney.  I have scars from Kate's birth. Physical and emotional scars. They are big and ugly and will always be there. I also have life that I get to hold and kiss and witness grow every day.  That is absolutely amazing. From pain, there is Hope. Love. Life. Thank you, Lord, for this precious gift.

We bought a house!

We are delighted to say we bought a house here in Nashville.  And not just any house, the perfect house for us.  Hoping to share a few pictures for our out of town friends and family.  Enjoy!

The Joy Dare

I once read a book, (& reread the book) The 4:8 Principle by Tommy Newberry.  Read the book if you haven't... it will revolutionize your outlook on life.  It is based on Philippians 4:8 and the idea that fixating on things that are lovely and true and joy-filled will actually turn your life around.

It's hard... focusing on truth and love and joy.  It's hard to find the good in the bad, the hope in the seemingly hopeless.  BUT, perhaps these are the secrets to those astonishingly happy people.  Just maybe the key to being joyful is choosing joy... time after time.

the 4:8 principle, tommynewberry.com

So here is my personal joy dare.  Join me, if you will?

1- Discover daily Joy: In every part of my day, find the best part and cling to it.  People, nature, places, smiles, laughter.

2- Smile through the frustration, the disappointment.  Amazing what smiles can do to our emotions.

3- Make someone else smile.  Compliment.  Mean it. Say Thank you.  Acknowledge.  Accept.  Understand.

4- Encourage.  Find genuine encouragement through notes, gestures of kindness, hugs, pats on the back.

5- Find my favorite song and sing it/listen to it every day for a week.  Right now, it's Brave by Sara Bareilles.  It makes me happy.

6- Wear bright colors.  It works.

7- Ask someone important to you: "What can I do for you to make your day better/easier?"

8- Cuddle with someone (babies, dogs, husbands are good for this)

9- Go outside.  If it's a beautiful day, get out there! Sit, walk, run, jog.  Vitamin D does a body good.

10- Choose joy again and again and again.  It is a choice.  Don't waste this precious, beautiful life without it.

doors

There are wooden doors with windows, metal ones without.  Doors to rooms, doors to houses, doors to our hearts.  A door to my house that was kicked in during a home invasion and robbery.  In a matter of seconds, pounding kicks followed by our screams and yelling to the burglar getting away with a small bag and my wallet.  I have never been so scared in my life.  My heart has never raced faster.  The whole time I was holding my baby girl in my arms.  A new level of protective mama bear goes into action.  (That would be stay out of the way and pray action!)  We were left with a door kicked in to replace, a dreaded visit to the DMV for a replacement license, and replaced debit cards.  All replaceable things.

Why did it take someone knocking down my door for me to acknowledge my heart in a new, real way?  To fall on my knees in complete desperation and fear before the Lord.  I love Jesus and I understand the power of prayer... but yesterday it hit me.  I have a blessed, privileged life.  I don't live in a state of fear, thank goodness.  This is hopefully our one and only home invasion in a lifetime.  I pray that, I hope that. I wouldn't wish this upon anyone.  The fear, the worry, the anxiety that follows.  The sleepless night.  5 am comes around and I wake up peeking out the windows, checking the locks once more.  Those emotions that flood in are intense, they are real and legitimate.  Instead of living in that fear, I found myself praying aloud for God to protect my family.  For us to know what to do, to see His hand even in the most terrifying experience.  It took this awful, terrifying incident for me to seek God's presence in a new, big way.  It seems backward, doesn't it?... to find power and praise in the worst of situations.

My truths I cling to...
God is bigger and more mighty than this criminal.  He will prevail.
My God is just and this thief is an idiot.  He will be caught. I just know it!
Mr. Idiot Thief stole my joy yesterday, he will not steal it today.
New doors, new locks, lots of lights, and one amazing husband who will check the house for me at all hours of the night make me feel a little more safeguarded.
We are equipped to provide and protect our family.
Syd won't remember this... thank goodness. I pray for her innocence to stay in tact as long as possible.
I may not understand who, why, or what this moron was thinking.  It's beyond my understanding.  The Lord knows this person's tainted, desperate heart.  He will face his day in court and before the Throne one day.  My God's gonna kick your door down, buddy. Watch out.

Righteousness and justice are the foundation of your throne.  Unfailing love and truth walk before you as attendants.  psalm eighty nine: fourteen

Blocking out a block

Each beginning school year, I put a lot of thought and effort into planning and structure.  Especially switching  from 60 minute periods to 90 min blocks, I played a lot of trial and error over the years.   This past school year, I feel like I implemented a plan that works and is worth sharing.  I spent a lot of time exploring options and compiling resources with my professor and friend, Emily.  She challenged to do what I know works with kids and trust my instincts.  I believe it is important for every educator (& professional for that matter!) to have a person who does this for you.  Find someone to talk through ideas, flesh out your creativity, and challenge your thinking. 

The end result looked something like this:

90 minute block Reading-LA (grades 6-8)

20 min SSR (silent sustained reading) students read silently and completed varied forms of accountability). I conducted individual reading conferences or circulated the room asking questions or asking students to read to me.

15 min warm up- alternate vocab/ grammar or combination 

I used Caught Ya Grammar: Giggles in the Middle, I also like Everyday Edits

5 mini TCAP review-1 daily grade & subj specific multiple choice question to review test taking strategies... Gradual release from teacher led to student led

50 min mini lesson- content specific mini lessons

This portion of the day varied depending on our classroom goals. 

Typically, a week looked something like this-

Day 1- hook- guiding questions to peak interest, and/or digital hook 

Intro vocab... (Vocab pulled from text to be read hat week and/or greek/latin roots) Discuss students' prior understandings of word meanings prior to exploring meaning, flashing images/videos for students to develop a definition as a class, students create a chart or table to record word, meaning, image/symbol, related words/ideas. (Revisit vocab daily during warm up or ad we encounter these words in the text)

Day 2 & 3-  introduce text to be read that week, preview length of text, genre, images 

Develop a purpose for reading, it could to explore, for entertainment, to gather and sort info, etc. this purpose ties into the objective and standard being taught. 

Begin by modeling. Usually, I would read the first paragraph of the shared text and demonstrate how I would sort and record the information I found. Then, students may join in reading and together we would practice the skill. Finally, students try this in partners or groups. 

We continue this structure with checkpoints as we go.

Day 3 & 4- putting it all together. I assign students a project- based task.  Usually, this was a writing task or a chart with textual evidence. It may have been a group project or research skills.  Either way, I introduce the task on day 3, providing a checklist or a rubric. Students continue reading the assigned text and complete the task by day 5. Day 4 would act as a working day, I would meet with groups to checkpoint their progress/ address questions/ clear misconceptions.  

Day 5- rotating small groups/assessment/complete weekly task(s) depending on what needed to be done. I usually created my assessment based on the vocab from the text, grammar skill, and reading skill taught that week.  Once finished, students could have time to complete, or fix, any weekly tasks with my input.  

While there  is much more to each part, this became my bare boned structure each week.  The routine itself became second nature and my students were the ones who kept me on track and on time.  I would vary the genre and try to blend fiction & non-fiction.  Challenging students with tasks that crossed over texts and genres blended well with Common Core.  Because of this structure, I noticed an increase in student time on task, more work placed on the students, and I was less burned out come Friday.  I would use this same structure again in a heartbeat.  I encourage other teachers to try and shift pieces of a class structure around until it fits your teaching style and the needs of your students. Flexibility and innovation are key!

No one likes to talk about the bad days

It's easy to blog about the good days, the joy of life. It's not so easy to be honest about the real emotions and hormonal pinball machine your heart and mind are thrown into.

The joy of motherhood is real.  It is the most amazing gift on earth.  Her little hands and feet mesmerize me.  Every noise or interaction is like a first step.  I am incredibly thankful to be home with my daughter for the first months of her life.  I know these are moments I will never have again. 

The bad days are real too.  It doesn't discredit the joys mentioned above... I won't let them. They are real for everyone, but for a new mom the baby blue days happen. You don't want to talk about it.  You don't want people to think you aren't joyful and happy and on cloud 9.  I was! I am! but, I still had/have bad days.  The more we don't talk about those days, the more everyone else feels like they are crazy and alone.  

I have learned to claim my bad moments and days.  To own them, to admit them, and to talk about them.  Then, I try to counteract them.  Does this always work? No. But usually it helps just a little bit.

My bad days are on rainy days... like yesterday.  I don't like to be stuck inside or to get wet in the rain.  Lately, getting outside is a big deal. (But I can walk in the mall and park under a parking deck!)

My bad days are when I don't feel like a good mom.  When she cries and I don't know why... when I go too long without feeding her.  When I miss my freedom.  When I just can't lift/load/carry that incredibly heavy car seat.  (But I am doing the best I can every day.  I have people in my life that I can text or call and admit I don't feel like a good mom.)

My bad days are when I can't wear anything in my closet pre baby.  When I read that pinterest blog "I was thinner than pre pregnancy at 4 weeks" and I secretly hate that girl I don't know.  (But I look at this sweet baby girl and know my body held her for 9 months and she is healthy and beautiful and I stick with my T shirt and thank god for those elastic black pants.)

My bad days are when I actually find time to run an errand and the lady at Walgreens is having a bad day too.  (I forget I'm not the only one who has them.)

My bad days are when I accidentally spill just a spot of that liquid gold and I cry a little. (There is nothing that counteracts spilled milk.)

My bad days are when I think about going back to work because I love my job and cry thinking about it. (Then I'm thankful for a husband who supports my decision and loves me because I am wired to be a working mom.)

My bad days are when I cry. For no reason in particular and I don't want to cry, but I cry, then little one cries and crying doesn't actually feel foreign anymore. And it can be anything really. That stupid Mother's Day publix commercial or someone dying on Grey's Anatomy or anyone having a baby in a movie or on tv. (Tears are purposeful, but sometimes have no explanation... So I let them happen.)

My bad days aren't days really... they are moments. They don't counteract my good days and my good weeks.  I don't let them. My joy is so much bigger than my bad moments.  I had this huge realization when my daughter was about 3 weeks old and I was in the hardest days... this is the most joyous time of my life.  I can let it pass by in a blur of my tears or I can embrace these days that are joyous.  Joy was my choice.  It is daily.  It isn't easy and perhaps I am writing this to remind myself of my choice. Some days my choice is to cry and to have a bad day.  It. is. ok.  Tomorrow is new and different and it might be another bad day, but at least it's a new day.  I wish I had the perfect verse for the exact moments of these days. And of course there are many, but the only one that came to my mind over and over again was He makes all things new.  Newness doesn't erase the previous.  It just starts over.  Life is new. Babies are new and sweet and smell good. Days are new, moments are new.  I can't make them new. I can't start the day over, or produce life on my own.  But My God who is so great and mighty can.  He can start it over and start new life and it is amazing and fresh and beautiful.

He makes all things new.


*Disclaimer- Every woman is different and experiences emotions in different ways. This is simply my journey in trying to cope and figure it all out. 

Pause

Being home on maternity leave has allowed me time to love on my sweet girl and has surprisingly allowed me to learn so much about myself.  If you know me, you know I love to be around people.  I crave conversation and relationship.  I hate quiet or stillness.  I am that girl.  I don't like awkward silence or nap time.  I want noise and fun and entertainment.

Until recently.  Being home causes me to be still.  Every day I try to limit my tv/Netflix time as much as possible.  Those things will always be there, these days will not.  I read this devotional blog this morning about rest and the Sabbath outlined in the bible...

"It's all about pausing and connecting with God without the distracting chaos of our everyday routines. For one day a week, we step out of the fray and let God direct our day according to His rhythm, not ours....  Taking one day for rest gives my soul the freedom it so desperately needs. Freedom to breathe. Space to breathe. Inhaling and exhaling in a gentle rhythm set by God." Lisa TerKeurst 

It totally hit home with me... Our society, our world, thrives off busyness.  We find silence and rest uncomfortable... I sure do. When God has prescribed medicine for our addiction to that busyness of life- it's rest and quietness.  In that is when we are actually able to soul search, we allow God to set that pace of life that is so contradictory to what we are told is good.  

So in this phase of my life, I find goodness in the quiet of our little home.  A house is being built two doors down and I actually enjoy the sound of hammering and trucks in and out.  The little coos and squeaks Sydney makes during her nap fill my heart.  That noise machine is soothing for both of us!  I actually listen to birds chirping and rain or wind outside.  And in those sounds and moments of my new mommy days, I am reminded of how great and powerful our God is. Breathing and listening and not doing a lot is just as fulfilling as my busy life once was.