For those of you who may live as a recluse or have your head stuck in the sand, I'll graciously turn my head to your ignorance and inform you that the Steelers are in the superbowl this year. You see, this is a pretty big deal around our house. Just about everyday of late one of the "men" in my life has worn some sort of Steeler paraphanalia. It doesn't seem to matter that we live hundreds of miles away from Pittsburgh, or that we don't get any sports radio, or that most people around here really don't care all that much which team wins this year. We faithfully cheer on the "home" team--which my husband stoutly declares they will always and forever be as far as he's concerned.

This year we'll be watching the game at the Hull's house with the college students that are becoming more and more dear to our hearts. And, aside from a couple stubborn Seattle fans, the majority of them will probably cross their fingers, in part, for The Bus and Big Ben and, mostly, for my husband.

[By the way: I hope to see those of you who fit in the Campus Ministry category there. It's bound to be fun, and I think I'll actually make this gathering instead of staying home to put toddlers to bed and like the idea of visiting with you!]

In years past, the superbowl used to simply be an excuse to hang out with people, eat pizza and drink soda, and "veg", but since marriage, the superbowl has come to represent a great deal more, I've found. This game is the hope and goal all fall and throughout the holiday season. This game separates the men from the boys. This game determines the validity of your hometown. This game represents every boyhood dream of fame and talent.

I don't think I'll be wearing anything declaring my loyalty to the Steelers, since such apparel has to be borrowed from my husband and only looks half-way normal when I'm 9 months pregnant, but I'll be holding my breath with the best of them. Though whether I do this because I really want the Steelers to win or simply because I want my husband to be happy is up to debate.

At some point, somebody asks you what your hobbies and interests are.

You pause--because you're not really sure. And that seems weird to you. I mean, everybody knows what they like to do in their free time, right? After all, there are movie-watchers and poker-players. There are hockey-game attenders and rock-concert attenders. There are readers who devour books in a week. There are joggers and weight-lifters. Surely you are into something.

Nope.

You realize you don't have hobbies and interests--unless writing five-minute brainless entries on a xanga counts as a hobby--because they typically require freedom from young children who get into glue sticks when you try to do a craft or who make your daily walk three times longer and much, much slower than it should have been. (This is a dilemma I am faced with now that I have three children and a stroller that only holds two.)

But before you answer the question, you realize that you're okay with not having a hobby or interest. And why not? Plenty of girls dream about having babies, look forward to dressing children, and plan on being a mom. In a way, what you're doing everyday really could be looked at as an interest.

So with a pleasant satisfaction and contentedness, you answer, "Not really. But that's okay."

Sometimes the littlest things convict me about my lack of spiritual disciplines.

Like hearing my not-yet-3-year-old son--eyes tightly shut and the most serious expression on his face--pray, "Lord Jesus, thank You for Jared. Please help him to not be sad. Amen."

The same couple that babysat [some] of my siblings and I when I was a little girl are making me a meal tonight to help out after the birth of my third son. You can't tell me that the Body of Christ doesn't create lasting bonds.

In spite of only eating spinach salads for lunch everyday and, generally, maintaining a very healthy diet, I haven't lost much of the 10lbs I still need to lose since returning home from the hospital. Why? Because people always make dessert to go with the meals they bring, and it's always really, really yummy!

When I woke up this morning, I almost fell down immediately after standing up. This, my friends, is just one more symptom of having low iron levels.

I began making birth announcements (which often double as thank you cards) today, only to realize that our printer does not have an ink cartridge and hasn't since before we moved. And then I realized that the closest OfficeMax is almost 50 minutes away. Convenient.

Last night I was home with the three kids at bedtime when Bronwyn decided to have an all-out battle over a tissue on the floor. I had to deal with her while holding a crying newborn. [Gabriel was playing nicely, for those who are interested.] It was a phyiscally exhausting 30 minutes for this anemic, but an even more emotionally exhausting one. I hate when one of my children disobeys so vehemently.

My prayers are one of the greatest gifts I can give my children. This year I want to not only pray more, but I want Him to teach me how to pray well.

Tonight finds me a little melancholy and a whole lot missing some really good friends.

Today Dad talked about ways God trains us to serve. He had three points--all good--but his first stood out the most to me: He trains us to serve by frustrating our attempts at self-fulfillment.

As he talked about this, I found myself considering motherhood and the many moments of frustration I've experienced over the last (almost) three years. It seems, at least in my recollection, that just about every time I've really hit that "last nerve"--every time I've wanted to give up, quit, throw the towel in, call myself "unable", etc.--I've found myself in that place because I've been looking to gain something from my children and my calling, rather than simply desiring to serve.

There is such fulfillment in being a mom. For example, the last week has been so rich for me. Having children is an amazing thing.

But it's work, too.

A lot of work. A lot of self-sacrifice. A lot of waking up during the night. A lot of cleaning seemingly unnecessary messes. A lot of dealing with disrespect. A lot of requirement to serve.

Too often I look at those times of challenge as my children being demanding or poorly behaving. I react to what I consider to be them making me give more than I ought to have to give or be or do. In reality, those times of challenge are Him training me to serve. They're Him frustrating my attempts to find fulfillment in having my children always well-behaved and looking pristine; in my ability to create perfection in them; in having things "just so". They're Him redirecting me to Himself. Those times of challenge are Him saying, "Ho! [Brietta, you] who thirsts, come to the waters; [though] you have no money come, buy and eat. Come, buy wine and milk without money and without cost."

I ought to be thankful when my fleshly attempts are frustrated and confounded.

I got a good report today: my hemoglobin levels are up to 7.4 already. I must be behaving. :)

We also found out that Jackson has returned to his birthweight exactly and, according to the nurse, has shrunk two inches. Riiight... Why is it that nurses don't really seem to care what they write down, as long as they write something? I mean, five days ago he was 21" long. Does anyone really think it possible that today he's 19"? And why, more importantly, am I required to drag myself and my kids out and about so that a nurse can write down a completely illogical number and say she did her job?!?!

Anyway.

It felt good to get out of the house--even if just for a short time. Now, I feel quite content to return to resting for the remainder of the day. I could use some sleep! [Jackson still has yet to realize that the hours between 11pm and 7am are the ones we prefer for sleeping over the 10am to 5pm shift.]

That's it for another rather boring post!

I've been feeling well the last couple days--for the most part. Dr. McCloy told me that my hemoglobin levels probably wouldn't seem to be as much of a shock to my system as not-so-poor levels might be to another individual since I've been living life throughout the past 3+ years at a much lower standard than most, and I'm finding she must be right. I'm accustomed to my weakness, I guess. :)   Still, I've spent almost all my time in bed with lots and lots of naps, and I really only emerge from my bedroom for a couple things: showering, using the bathroom, eating dinner with Daniel and the kids, and watching American Idol.

[Yup. I watched American Idol. Enough said.]

In spite of being very weak, though, I am amazed at how much easier the initial post-partum days have been following the births of Bronwyn and Jackson compared to Gabriel. I think this is largely because I've known what to expect after having gone through the emotional ups and downs before. Those first couple weeks after Gabriel's birth were in many ways shocking to me. The amount of physical discomfort wasn't ancitipated, that's for sure. I also cried a lot. Now I wouldn't be surprised if I just broke down crying any random moment--and so I don't!

Daniel has had his hands full without my participation in daily life. As if keeping house and caring for two toddlers isn't enough work, much of it is work he's not accustomed to and is being tackled while trying to keep up with his own work. Watching him deal with a highly-emotional Bronwyn, trying to wash dishes, breaking up fights over toys, combing knotted hair (accompanied by much crying), dressing children who would rather stay in their pajamas, and eventually giving up on running into Potsdam to do a couple errands was as if watching myself on a stressful morning. I wanted so badly to help but have found that as ready as I feel to jump up and do "normal" activities, a couple minutes moving around leaves me feeling dizzy and lightheaded. How thankful I am for two sisters who came over today to clean the
bathroom, dust, mop the kitchen floor and--most of all--help Daniel feel that not all is falling apart around him.

All in all, these have been precious days. I have been able to enjoy Jackson as a newborn even more than I was the other two children simply because I've been doing nothing but caring for him and resting. And there is nothing more special than "visits" from little people who climb up on my bed and tell me about what they're doing and how much they like their new little brother.

[Bronwyn excitedly says, "Jacks! Jacks!" every time she sees the baby, which is quite impressive considering her otherwise small vocabulary.]

Danica brought me At Home in Mitford from the library this afternoon, so I am joining the ranks of Mitford readers. She also brought a gift--for me. That was unexpected! I am so blessed.

Gabriel, Bronwyn and Jackson are all sleeping currently (operative word with Jackson), so I am going to find Daniel. He has been so gracious in caring for me. The poor guy is tired and worn out. Hopefully some time shared, along with really yummy brownies from the Kinnens, will pick him up a bit.

The sounds of two little people interacting with their Daddy reach me as I sit here in my bed, and--unbelievably--a new baby boy is laying where his father usually sleeps. I look down at him and am amazed. It doesn't matter that I've given birth before, or even that I've given birth to both male and female; this baby--this person--right here takes my breath away.

His was the hardest labor I've had yet, and I suppose that's saying quite a bit since I was in labor with Gabriel for fifty-one hours. Not only was labor very, very long, but I was in "transition" for over four hours. Contraction after grueling contraction, with only ten to sixty second pauses in-between them. I wanted to die. I thought I would die. I thought nothing in the world could possibly be worth the absolute pain and exhaustion I was experiencing.

And then... there was him.

Maybe it's because I had to work so hard to see him. Or maybe it's because he represents so much of this past season in life for me. Or maybe it's simply because he's so perfect and beautiful. Whatever the reason, the joy of his birth is far from feeling repititious and--in fact--seems to have brought renewed hope in a special and unique way.

I can't wait for you all to meet him. We won't be out and about too soon this time around since I suffered quite a blood loss which my already-anemic body didn't handle well (for those who know numbers at all, my hemoglobin was 6.2 when I left the hospital yesterday morning), but soon--very soon--you will see my son, and you will perhaps get a taste of what I mean when I say, "He was worth it."

Jackson Edward
8lbs. 4oz., 21inch
January 15, 2006
12:52pm

I spent yesterday morning (1am to 8:30am) at the hospital; the prior five hours had been spent having contractions every 4-6 minutes at my house. As much as I dread labor, I clung to the idea that today it would all be over.

Wrong!

Here I am, in my living room, pregnant. My doctor is convinced I'll have this baby today or tomorrow. I know from experience that my body likes to defy logic, so I am making no such conclusions. But then again, maybe that's because there's a really, really, really big part of me that wants to put labor and delivery off all the more now. I guess I dislike pain more than I'd realized.

Now that I've done the hospital routine (which is one of the things I dislike most about labor) already, I'm not interested in repeating a trip to the hospital for another several months. I hate hospitals--no matter how nice the facility and helpful the staff--and don't like the idea of going back in the least. I also dread the physical challenges of labor and delivery and post-partum recovery. Yeah. Unfortunately, I don't have another several months to pull my emotions together enough to tackle this thing. As much as I'm okay with keeping this baby where he/she is, the reality is that I only have until January 25th at the very most.

At any rate, I'm finding the battle concerning what my meditations will be challenging. I'm focusing too much on the pain, the discomfort, the emotional difficulties, the time away from my other children, the exhaustion, etc. and too little time focusing on the reward: a new son or daughter to meet... to hold... to share life with. I need to change my meditations, and quick, because I'm a time-bomb waiting to go off!

This morning Daniel commented on how this is a situation we've been faced with recently. In purchasing our house, we'd thought we'd begun the process, only to have to start over again. There were times when the challenges of the whole thing seemed as though they couldn't possibly be worth whatever the end result might be. But they were, as we find every day we spend here in our new home, which we absolutely love.

So is this. Right now, the challenges seem overwhelming to me. I want to post-pone, delay, put off, whatever! the whole thing because I don't have right perspective. But the reality is that once I've walked through the challenges, I will find the reward completely worthwhile.

He promises to make all things beautiful. Even unpleasantries are beautiful when seen through His eyes--focused on the prize and not on the moment.

It hasn't been quite a full month that I've lived here, but this is my first post from my new home. Guess we've officially moved in.

We've also officially joined the ranks of "paying" TV watchers. Since antennas don't do much good around here, we broke down and purchased basic cable for the first time in our lives. TV is something we've not had much to do with as long as we've been married; before that, we both grew up in families that never found it worth paying for. But after debating for a while whether or not getting basic channels was worth the $12/month, we came to the conclusion that spending afternoons at my parents' watching football and such will only become even more difficult once the new baby arrives. So, for the sake of football and baseball and occasional moments with PBS for the kids, we're forking over the money.

Don't get me wrong: I don't think TV is an evil thing. It's just that after growing up without it and then being both with and without it while married (as opposed to in the north country, antennas do serve a purpose in Pittsburgh), I've come to the conclusion that it generally isn't worth making available. I like the fact that without it I spend a lot more time reading or working on small projects or visiting with Daniel. Why is it that in our culture we almost always turn the TV on--even if there's nothing we want to watch? Believe me: I'm as guilty as anyone.

Ask me in a couple weeks how we're doing with keeping the TV off more than it is on. Daniel and I both want to make sure that the evenings Daniel is home we spend more time talking, playing games, etc. than we spend with computers or TV or any of the things that so easily chew up relational time.

Here's to moderation!

Our house has finally been de-decked. Now we get to discover what this new home is like without
Christmas decorations. Right now the whole place is looking a bit empty
of personal touches since I haven't even unpacked the "little" things
yet. But soon. Very, very soon.

Today Daniel took Gabriel and Bronwyn outside to play in the snow. They
had such a good time, and I so enjoyed watching little people tumbling
around as they tried to walk! I appreciate Daniel's investment in them
more and more; it makes such a difference for them to have
"Daddy-time." And the bundled up little guys made for some fun photos!

I pulled out the box of baby clothes and washed some of the more gender
neutral articles. There are two piles of clothing remaining untouched
in the box: baby boy and baby girl clothing. I'll keep the box
accessible and within the next couple weeks I'll know which pile to get
washed and ready to be worn. I thought girl for quite a while, but of
late have been thinking boy. My husband thinks boy. My dad thinks girl.
Time will tell all and we'll soon know who is right and who is wrong!

I'm more excited about this coming year than I've been about any new
year. I have a genuine and deep confidence that God's grace and power
are available for transformation--in me and in His church. His
provision and care have been proven in a new way over the last several
months. His faithfulness has continued. I am ready to trust Him all the
more.

I really am still alive! I just don't have internet access at my home
and, amidst settling into a house, making meals, grocery shopping,
visits to the doctor, out-of-town visitors, etc., getting over here to
my parents' to update has not been top priority.

Things are going well. I am inspired each day to get a lot, a lot done
as I wonder each day how many more I will have left to really tackle
jobs before a new baby arrives. Of course, Christmas decorations are
still up (I began taking them down today only to realize I had failed
to leave myself time to do the job before needing to leave for an
appointment at the doctor's) and baby clothes and carseat have yet to
be pulled out and prepared, but there is food in the house, I made a
"stock up" trip to Wal-Mart yesterday, I've been baking and cooking for
the sheer enjoyment of doing so, cleaning the house, and more.

Baby is growing, that's for sure! I have felt convicted about my lack
of anticipation for the birth of this baby of late, but am also glad
that I don't deal with the "get this out of me" feelings that I hear
many moms talk about. For whatever reason, even a 10lb baby doesn't
make me feel uncomfortable. I'm blessed! At any rate, the Lord has
asked me to reconsider my excitement about this new arrival and I have
seen a lack. The last thing I want to do is sow seeds for rejection,
which I know the enemy would use later in this child's life. So I am
excited about this baby! I'm NOT looking forward to labor and delivery,
but I guess no mom does. :)  I AM looking forward to meeting my
son or daughter and getting to know this new person.

We had a great holiday season. Daniel was able to spend a good deal of
time with the kids and I this past week, and that was so welcomed. It's
been too long since work and projects haven't been consuming our lives.
The other day I woke up and realized there was nothing absolutely
pressing that needed to be accomplished... OR ELSE! Ah.

A new year. More than any other year, I have a confidence that God is
going to do good things. On New Year's Eve He spoke to me regarding the
cry I've had for a greater stability in me. His Spirit is ready to work
on my behalf, and I am excited about this. Now I am challenged to be a
mold-able vessel.

There you go: the update.