Welcoming Della

I just discovered this blog post that I never actually posted. It has been sitting as a draft in here for a long while. Now that Della is nearing 1.5 years in age, it is probably time to publish...

It is time for a birth story! Please stop reading if you did not come to read a birth story.

Let's start at the beginning. I woke up on Friday morning, 12/27 feeling GROSS. The night before, about an hour before going to bed I had four really strong-feeling contractions. I thought I would go to sleep and be woken up a few hours later by labor. But, then I woke up in the morning--not to contractions. It was disappointing. My body hurt. I was nauseated. I was feeling so over it. I was exactly 39 weeks pregnant and had an OB appointment that morning.

I met my mother in law at the library and dropped Ezra off with her while I hopped over to my OB appointment. In my appointment my OB informed me that I was dilated about 2 cm, which was not much of anything from my 1.5 cm the week before. She thought she could get a good membrane strip in at 2 cm and I said "YES PLEASE." It wasn't painful at all, just a bit uncomfortable. I was bracing myself for pain-unto-tears, which is why I asked my mother in law to watch Ezra! I left the appointment hoping that it was going to make a difference.

We went through our day and I still felt lousy. Around 3:30 I took Ezra with me to Urgent Care, because I was pretty sure I had a little ear infection (which I did.) While we were sitting there waiting, I started to pay attention to the cramping feelings I was getting every several minutes. When we got back to see the doctor and we were discussing what types of medicines I could take pregnant I said "Well, I might be in labor, like, right now, so could I pick this prescription up in a couple of days?"

As we left Urgent Care, I pulled up my contraction app timer on my phone and started to time contractions on the drive home. About 6 minutes apart, 30 seconds. It was around 5:00 pm. Kyle had worked from home that day, so when I got home I told him I thought maybe this was the real deal. I made some dinner and told Kyle I wanted to head to the gym to walk on the treadmill. They kept coming and I felt pretty confident they weren't going to stop! Kyle dropped me off at the gym and I started walking. Except, it had the opposite effect than what I intended. Contractions started to slow down. They became more inconsistent. They got further apart. 8 minutes now, on average. Generally 12 minutes and then two about 5 minutes apart, then 10 minutes and so forth. I got back home and we put Ezra to bed. They really started to slow down then. Fifteen minutes apart, twelve minutes apart lasting only 15-20 seconds. I started to feel a little discouraged, I had really thought it was happening this time. I had texted my mother in law to let her know we might need her to come be with Ezra in a few hours. False labor? Up to this point, besides a few deep breaths, my contractions hadn't stopped what I was doing at all. I didn't stop what I was doing. I was walking on a treadmill and putting my baby to bed. Only once Ezra noticed I had closed my eyes and started breathing heavier and said "Hey, mama, what do you feel?"

We turned on a TV show and I laid on the couch. I decided if I was in labor, I should take advantage of the timing in between the contractions and try to get some sleep. I texted my mother in law and let her know things had really slowed down and I didn't expect we would be heading to the hospital anytime soon. It was about 8:30 pm. The contractions were around 25 minutes apart. I closed my eyes and started to drift off.

I was stirred by a strong contraction, waking me up sufficiently from my couch-snooze. I got up to go to the bathroom, because, pregnancy. While in the bathroom I had anther contraction, but during this one I started to make some of those deep guttural labor moaning sounds that you only hear come from a female when they are in labor. Kyle called out "Are you okay?" I did not reply. I came out of the bathroom, another contraction--deep labor moans. Kyle, suddenly very aware of me, asks "Should we go to the hospital?" "Yes..." It was around 9:15.

From my best estimation I went from early labor to late-active labor/transition in the matter of an hour, from 25 minute apart contractions to 3 minute apart unable to speak or focus contractions. Kyle's mom got to us around 9:30/9:45. I called my OB office to let them know I was heading into the hospital. I was patched over to the on-call dr, whom I have never met before. She answered the phone and said "So, you think you're in labor?" I could barely speak between contractions, so when I got a chance to answer, I barked out, pretty rudely something like: "I don't think I am in labor, I AM in labor. I am leaving for the hospital, let them know I am coming. Goodbye." (This doctor rounded on me the next day, after Della was born, and I apologized to her haha)

We left for the hospital and arrived just about 10:00 pm on the nose. They brought me into triage and I promptly puked my guts out. Five years of marriage and that was the first time Kyle has ever seen me throw up. Glamorous. I had been nauseous all day, so I expected this to happen. The nurse checked me and I was at a 6/7. She asked if I wanted an epidural and I said "No."

She left the room to go get do something, I am not sure what. Kyle gave me a blessing. When he finished I said that I wanted to get an epidural. I was very keen on my natural delivery and prepared with a whole gambit of labor techniques and mantras and relaxation methods. I had told Kyle many times that there would come a point where I would say I wanted an epidural and he HAD TO BE THE ONE to talk me off the ledge. When I said I wanted the epidural, he didn't deny me, he just looked at me with a "What do you want me to do here!?" kind of a look. I had a very sudden, but profound moment of clarity. I said "Look, I am not having a contraction right now. I am not in pain. I am saying this with a clear mind. I just realized, I want to enjoy this process. I want this to be a good experience that I can look back on with joy. So, I think it would be best to get an epidural."

The nurse came back and I told her I had changed my mind and would like an epidural. She moved us over to our delivery room, from triage, and said she would go find the anesthesiologist. My contractions were about 2-3 minutes apart and I was FEELING THEM. Yowza. It was about 11:00 pm or so when we got moved into the room, all my iv's and what not had been placed. I was sitting bolt upright in the bed with each contraction. That is the only way my body felt it could handle those contractions. They had me hooked up to all the monitors, trying to get a read on baby and I and wanted me to lay down. But, I just couldn't. I was dilated 8/9 cm.

At about 11:30 pm the anesthesiologist came in and we got the epidural placed. This is not a quick thing. Around midnight, I had the epidural in and medicine had started flowing. It became apparent rather quickly that the medicine was not getting to my left side (the same thing happened with Ezra!) The anesthesiologist actually ended up staying through my whole delivery, trying to get that medicine dosage and right, but it just didn't end up happening. It worked great on my right side and back, but I still felt those full contractions through my left hip, front left lower stomach and front of my left leg.

The relief of the epidural though, and the support that I felt from the nurses and anesthesiologist were enough! I was in much better spirits and while I couldn't talk and groan-moaned through each contraction still, I felt happy and chatted a bit with everyone between contractions. Additionally, when all that was happening, I found out my OB, who hadn't been on call that night, heard I was there and decided to come over. It made me feel appreciated and supported. I was so grateful for that effort she did not have to make!

My OB got there at 12:00, which is about when the epidural had gotten placed. I told them at that point I was feeling that pressure and it was probably time to push soon. I had learned with Ezra though, that just because I felt SOME need to push did not mean it was TIME to push yet. I would've saved myself a lot of grief and time if I hadn't started pushing so soon, with Ezra. So, they checked me and sure enough I was almost there. My OB said probably another contraction or two. After about three or four I said I was ready to push.  Tacy, my nurse took my right leg and Kyle took my left. It was at this point (probably should have mentioned it earlier, but I was a bit distracted) that I said "I want to make sure we delay that cord clamping." My OB and nurse both confirmed. I had a contraction and gave two pushes. I felt her crowning, but because of the epidural, it was not painful. My OB kept saying things like "You are doing so so great. You can do this." My OB said I could wait for the next contraction or keep pushing. I waited for the next contraction and gave two more pushes and then they placed a slimy little baby on my stomach. It was 12:37 am, just two and a half hours since arriving at the hospital! And only really 3-4 hours since active labor had started.

Since I had asked for delayed cord clamping, I couldn't pull her up to my chest yet, because the cord wasn't long enough. She gave a couple little cries and then just snuggled quietly. She turned pink quickly. The first thing I asked when she was born was "It is a girl, right??" Even after several ultrasounds, I needed to see to believe! After a few minutes, Kyle cut the cord and I pulled her up onto my chest. I had a small tear and my OB placed a few stitches. Della was calm and quiet. She started to nurse immediately and did great. She is a little tree frog and will pull those tiny newborn chicken legs up under her sides immediately and instinctively when laying on your chest. We lover her so. 

Second, First Trimester

I'M PREGNANT. Who knows when I will post this! I have no definitive plans regarding the announcement of this pregnancy to our family and friends, though a few people are in the loop (Kirstin, Lindsey, Brad...). This post may not see the light of day for a while, but I am going to start writing it anyway.

I am 10 weeks pregnant as I begin this post. My second pregnancy has been very similar to Ezra's so far, but with everything a bit more exaggerated, as tends to happen with subsequent pregnancies. With Ezra my first semester brought extreme exhaustion, extreme thirst, and some food aversion. I didn't eat meat for that first trimester, for example. I couldn't get enough water to satiate my thirst. I couldn't be awake for more than a couple hours without needing a nap.

This second-first trimester has brought moderate exhaustion, extreme food aversion/strong cravings, and lots of impatience. I have not been sick. I am so grateful for this! But food aversion does feel eerily close to nausea and while I have not felt sick I have felt just generally unwell and unlike myself. I have been eating complete garbage. Honestly, I should just be eating out of a trash can. I have had strong aversions to most all food, with strong cravings each day for, usually, one specific food. A "food of the day", if you will. My "foods of the day" have included: mozzarella sticks, chips, taco bell, McDonald's cheeseburgers, french fries, ice cream, sauerkraut, cup-of-noodle and pepperoni. I have eaten so many cups of noodle. I have had general aversions to meat, vegetables, grains, and most everything else, too. At 10 weeks, my food aversions have begun to calm, though they are certainly still there. I am eating a bit more like a regular human being and less like a 13-year-old boy with no parents. Fingers crossed that in a couple more weeks I will be able to eat a vegetable again.

{I am wondering how much of a give away it was when, at a Brown family gathering, I ate something completely different for dinner than what everyone else was partaking in. I just couldn't bring myself to eat the delicious BBQ and broccoli salad (A meal I normally would've gobbled!).  As I sat eating my tamale, I thought "Is everyone at this table thinking I'm pregnant right now?" Also, at another Brown family gathering my completely wonderful mother-in-law served me a helping of perfectly cooked, delicious green beans and I couldn't eat more than two, but had many more on my plate. Kyle snuck them from my plate to his plate and I am wondering how many people recognized the exchange. Shrug! }

Pregnancy is exhausting, but I have found that I am not nearly as exhausted as I was with Ezra. I think this is because of Ezra! As a parent of a child who didn't sleep through the night until very recently, I was more acquainted going into a second pregnancy with what it felt like to be exhausted. So, pregnancy exhaustion wasn't such a difficult blow. I'm physically tired, don't get me wrong. But, I can handle it, unlike the first time around. Additionally, Ezra started to sleep through the night for the first time right as I got pregnant! So, pregnancy exhaustion hit while also getting a full night's sleep for the first time in forever! It balanced out. 

I mostly include the note about impatience this trimester because I feel so guilty for snapping at poor little Ezra as much as I have. Maybe I should take back what I just wrote about being able to "handle my exhaustion." I guess I should change that to say that while I don't need a nap every two hours, I am certainly more short tempered. Sigh. Fingers crossed good memories of nice mom outweigh sad memories of angry-snappy-pregnant mom *crying emoji.* There is a statistic out there in some psychology study, somewhere, that you need to have seven positive interactions to counter balance a single negative interaction. At the end of the day, I find myself doing a mental tally, wondering if the good outweighed the bad. It doesn't always! Some days are just hard days. But, I am trying.

Chicken Run

Backstory:

#1: We are potty training. When he is at home, he wears no pants. This is necessary information for the following story. 

#2: Also crucial for the story is that there was a blizzard here in Colorado last week. Every store and business in the greater Denver area closed--even Chick-fil-a. Winds were around 60 mph. It snowed a few feet. It was wild. As a result of said winds, part of our fence blew over. It is the fence that we share with our neighbors to the right of us. While we are waiting for insurance to assess the situation, our neighbors put up some temporary pliable plastic netting as a barrier between the two yards. 

Now that you are in the know, I can proceed with an account from March 25. We had just gotten home from picking up Kyle at the train and I went into the kitchen to start making dinner. It was a beautiful day out, so Ezra was playing in the backyard. Having a backyard where we can just let him run free is glorious. After about 10 minutes or so, I realized I couldn't hear him and so I went and peeked my head out into the yard. I didn't see him. "Ezra?" I called. No answer. I peek around the house, into our side yard and still no Ezra. I begin to panic, as any mother would. My child was missing from the backyard. But, then I started to hear his voice, afar off. This was a good sign. At least he hadn't gotten too far away, though I couldn't quite figure out where he was. I called inside for Kyle: "Kyle, Ezra is gone!" Kyle comes running. When Kyle joins me outside, we start to hear him talking again and realize the noise is coming from our neighbors yard. How in the world did he get past the temporary fence!? We are still unsure about this. Kyle starts to head over to knock on the neighbors door to ask if we can go back and grab Ezra when we hear Ezra starting to squeal "I'm gonna get you! I'm gonna get you!" The scene that followed was utterly hilarious and my words will never paint an adequate picture. Three chickens come running around the side of the house with our naked little bare-buns-boy chasing behind the: "I'm gonna get you! I'm gonna get you! Oooooooh chickens!" We watched, laughing as his bare cheeks chased these chickens back and forth and back and forth around our neighbors' yard. 

Parenting. What a joy. 

For Mom

Graduating from college has been nothing short of the most humbling, difficult and trying experience of my lifetime. This isn't because the course work was overly rigorous, though rigor certainly played a role. It wasn't because of the late nights and early mornings. It wasn't because of the exhaustion. My college path was so, so different than the one I expected I would take.

Ever since I can remember I was going to graduate high school, go to BYU, marry a boy who was also going to BYU, probably when I was 19 (#BurnhamCurse), then I was going to graduate from BYU and have some babies. I prayed a mission would get thrown in before the marriage part, but since I was Burnham Cursed, it wasn't likely. Though I would tell my parents: "If he is the one I'm supposed to marry, he will be there when I get back!" That was the plan. That's what everyone in my family did. I was the youngest. I looked forward to following the script. 

Looking back now, I think all of my siblings, and my parents, would tell you, that is not the script they followed, but as a youngster, that was my perception of the script. That is what I wanted. Those were my dreams. 

Luckily for me, I met my husband when I was 16 years old. And I knew from the day I met him, or better stated I hoped, he was going to be precisely that, my husband. Love at first sight, I tell you. Really, confirmation at first sight. I've never felt so impacted, first meeting another person, the way I was when I first met Kyle. There was something different about him. There still is. I loved him. I love him. 

But, at the time, meeting him didn't really change my plans. I could still accomplish all the above listed dreams, in the above listed order (except I was terrified of Kyle, who was a year older than I was, going to BYU and meeting someone else....because what college freshman would still pine for their high school girlfriend? I mean, seriously.) But, Kyle didn't go to BYU. He decided to go on a mission right out of high school. Well, give or take a handful of months while he waited to turn 19. I was so excited for him. He was excited, too and away he went.

I proceeded with my plan. Except, I didn't get into BYU. 

I should've gotten into BYU. I mean, at least that is what I tell myself. I know so many people who were "less qualified" who got in. I didn't. I had the grades. The recommendations. The essay. My dreams were shattered! What was I supposed to do now? I had applied to three other schools. I got scholarships to all of them. But I didn't even get accepted by BYU. 

In my dream-shattered state, I turned to the scriptures. I wanted comfort. I opened to a verse and started reading--2 Nephi 20:33 "...and the high ones of stature shall be hewn down; and the haughty shall be humbled." I'm pretty sure I threw my scriptures and said "UGH I GET IT!" through my tears. 

About a month before acceptance letters were sent around my mom told me she had had a conversation with the mother of another girl I went to church with. The daughter was also applying to BYU that year. The mothers were discussing the odds and what not. My mom expressed how anxious I was about whether or not I would be accepted to which the other mom said: "My daughter said 'If anyone gets in it will be Alivia. She gets everything she wants.' "

I do not get everything I want. 

That girl got accepted, though. 

Even though I had applied to BYU-Idaho, I was absolutely under no circumstances going to go there. It was the school you went to when you got rejected from BYU. How embarrassing was that? If I had to get rejected from BYU, I certainly wasn't going to broadcast it to the world by going to BYU-Idaho. 

But, my mom, wisely, suggested we at least go and see what the school was like. I had never been there before, no one in my family had (refer above...*roll eye emoji*) So, we packed a bag and drove down to the 'Burg--Rexburg, Idaho. 

The second we stepped onto campus, a powerful wave washed over me and I knew this was where I was meant to be. No matter how much I DID NOT WANT and I repeat, DID NOT WANT to be there, I knew it was the right place for me. A few months later, I became the newest resident of Rexburg, Idaho. 

There are so so so many things about my time in Rexburg that I could mention here...but this post is already going to be lengthy. Suffice it to say, it was absolutely where I was meant to me. 

A month into my freshman year, the missionary age change happened. EXCUSE ME WHILE I WEEP. I turned 19 during my "off track" at BYU-Idaho. You know where I would not have been off track? BYU. 

I left after the first semester of my freshman year to serve a mission. 

I got home and was engaged, quickly, to my high school sweetheart, the one, the only Kyle Brown.

But, he was going to school is New York. 

Another semester at BYU-Idaho before we were married and I ran across the country to support and be with my love. What now?

Many options were considered, namely, transferring to a nearby college and maybe even Cornell. I certainly would not finish school online. The stigma. I was not one of those people. I was intelligent. I was a hard worker. I LIKED school.  Transferring it was. 

But, no school really had the program I was looking for (Cornell had just gotten rid of their Family Studies major a few years previous.) But, BYU-Idaho did....

Just before the end of my last campus-semester at BYU-I, I switched my major from Sociology to Marriage and Family Studies. And, wouldn't you know it, that was one of the offered online degrees.

So, again, I did what I swore I would never do. I enrolled as a full-time online student. I worked. I studied. I completed an internship that was amazing.

Then I got pregnant. 

BUT I WAS STILL IN SCHOOL. But, again, I was online. So, while having a child and going to college is not convenient, I happened to already be fully invested in the most convenient option.  

Let's revisit the script:

Graduate high school 

Go to BYU

Marry a boy who goes to BYU, at 19

Graduate from BYU

Have babies

I took my dream life and crumpled it up and tossed it out of a fast moving car. Heavenly Father took what I thought I wanted and gave me so much more than I could've ever dreamed. He gave me Kyle (!!!), He gave me New York, He gave me my sweet Ezra, He gave me an online program. 

I have fought my own worst feelings throughout this process. Fighting my prejudices. Fighting other peoples' prejudices, stigmas, and assumptions. This was why graduating from college was the most difficult thing I have done thus far. 

Every step of the way I felt I needed to justify why I was doing what I was doing. Why I was at BYU-Idaho. Why I was doing school online. Why I had chosen my major. 

Imagine being in an Ivy League atmosphere, surrounded by some of the world's greatest minds, being pregnant and married to one of Cornell's basketball players, and saying to a world renowned professor "I am finishing my degree online, in Marriage and Family Studies." Just try and let that sink in. I didn't have a chance to explain my reasoning. To explain my field. To explain that I had not, in fact, been knocked up by this basketball player. The looks, you guys. OH THE LOOKS. I have never received so many pitiful looks in my life as I did as a pregnant counterpart to a D1 basketball player in the state of New York. My lanta. "Her poor ruined life" they must have thought. Every time someone looked at me I wanted to scream " WE HAVE BEEN MARRIED FOR TWO YEARS." 

I digress. 

Brigham Young University-Idaho had a stigma. "Not as good"

Online degrees had a stigma. "Not rigorous" 

Marriage and Family Studies had a stigma. "MRS. degree."

And there was I was in the thick of it. I have felt like I was weeping and wailing and gnashing my teeth against these three things for the past five years. Here's what I have to say, what I have learned.

BYU-Idaho: Brigham Young University-Idaho has an atmosphere that is unmatched by any college campus I have ever been on. It is the only Church school where the honor code is highly enforced, and that brings a unique Spirit to the campus. The power of the campus wide Learning Model is inspired. My teachers were phenomenal, some of them are still my friends today. My classes were intriguing. The devotionals were impactful. The friendships, life altering. I am a proud Brigham Young University-Idaho alumna. I love BYU-Idaho.

{And, I learned, a lot of people who went to BYU-Idaho were accepted to BYU and chose to go to BYU-I instead !?!?!? *dumbfounded emoji* "I guess this place isn't exactly what I thought...." I said to myself, 1,000 times.}

My one *negative* judgement about BYU-Idaho is simply that it caters almost exclusively to people who think generally in the same way. I remember in one class mentioning that I was not a conservative (politically) and I mean, there were some angry remarks made. I would not have minded a bit of diversity of thought. But, with that being said, I was on Cornell's campus during the majority of my schooling, so, the diversity quota was filled in that way.

Online Schooling: It was never my first choice and it still wouldn't be my first choice. But, I am eternally grateful that it was A CHOICE. My online program used the exact same web interface/program that I used when I was a campus student. I communicated with my professor and other students in the same way. I turned in assignments the same way. I learned what my assignments were the same way. I did my reading the same way. I had assignments due throughout each week, I had projects, I had papers, I had group work, I had required synchronous class meetings, I met with my professor. I completed an internship. It was all exactly the same, except I didn't go to a physical classroom.

And you know what online programs do to make up for you not going to class? (A class where many of the students do not attend and/or pay attention/are engaged in any way anyway) You get more work. You get additional reading. You get more group projects. You write more papers. More, not less. 

My program was a miraculous blessing in my life and the life of my family. It allowed me to support my husband, have a child, dedicate the majority of my time to that child, while completing a college education. A college education, I will add, that was a fraction of the cost that it wouldve been had I transferred to a school in New York. Hello, freedom from college loans. (Thanks, Dad <3)

I recently had a conversation where a friend said: "Oh, you're going to graduation? But, weren't you an online student?" 

Ow. 

Yes, I went to graduation and walked alongside all other graduates. And my transcript doesn't say "online graduate" it just says "graduate."

Marriage and Family Studies: The MRS. degree. I have started answering that I am graduating in Marriage and Family Therapy or Marriage and Family Education, because that clears up for people what the major actually is. 

No, I never took a sewing class. Or a cooking class. 

I did take a lot of family theory, sociology, psychology and social work classes.

But, even if my major was about sewing or cooking, why are we so opposed to that idea? Why does it feel wrong? Just something to think about.

This major preps a student to continue onto graduate school, many of whom will do so to become Marriage and Family Therapists. I want to do Family Life Education (CFLE).

I truly believe there is nothing more foundational to the wellness of society than the family. If I was going to make any sort of difference in the world, I had to start at the base. You can't build on a sandy foundation. You want to see more high school and college graduates? Family. You want people just, by golly, to be nicer to other people? Family. You want changes in drug use, alcoholism, obesity, recidivism, violent crime, _______ (insert ANYTHING here)? Family. Strengthen the family. If I wanted to impact the world, I needed to help families. That is why I chose this major. 

I graduated from Brigham Young University-Idaho with a degree in Marriage and Family Studies. I walked in Rexburg, ID with all the other graduates, campus students and otherwise. My diploma doesn't say "Completed online" but maybe it should say: 

Completed as both a campus and online student

Completed with a two year break to serve the Lord

Completed while planning a wedding

Completed with two major cross country moves, and two minor cross country ones

Completed while pregnant

Completed while raising another human being

Completed while breastfeeding

Completed while holding a sleeping infant on my lap and typing over his little body, but not too loudly, because I don't want him to wake up

Completed during nap time

Whatever it says, and whatever the form the journey took, I am just glad it will say: completed. 

Cornell Family Pictures

A favorite

The iconic Cornell clock tower

Another favorite

We love you, Cornell <3

People are Good

Our bathtub clogged. 

We spent a few days cleaning the bathtub every night when dirty water backed up our drain into the tub before I told our apartment to send the maintenance guy. He came. That night gravel backed up into our tub. GRAVEL. Ew. We spent a few more days avoiding taking showers at home and bathing Ezra before I emailed again saying something more needed to be done. The roto-rooters were called in. 

They knocked on my door just before Ezra was due to wake up from his nap. Two men, both middle aged. One was short and round, one was tall and sturdy. The short, round man spoke. He introduced the pair and started to chat with me kindly. They were both dirty, covered in sooty-icky-stuff, head-to-toe. They did not smell delightful. They tracked mud through my house. 

After they had been in the house for a few minutes, Ezra woke up. I went back to the bedroom to get him and then brought him into the living room. The tall, sturdy man spoke for the first time. 

"Sorry, what was that?" I said. He repeated himself. "I'm sorry" I said, shaking my head "I didn't catch that." He repeated himself again. He had a couple teeth missing, I noticed. "Im so sorry, one more time" I said, feeling embarrassed that I couldn't understand. He repeated himself another time "Who's that, your son?"

"Oh, yes. This is my son." 

He turned away and they kept working. As they worked, they talked to each other. Have you ever gone to the deep deep south? Have you ever heard a conversation that you knew was in english, but the way of speaking was so foreign to you that it might as well have been a different language all together? I felt a flash of sticking my nose in the air, pride--grateful that I was educated. "Proud" that I didn't smell bad and that when I spoke people could understand me. 

But, the Lord works in mysterious ways, doesn't He? Who would think that the dirty, practically illiterate man, would teach me such a profound lesson. I'm so glad he did.

They finished working and the short, round man spoke to me about the procedure and so forth. He was definitely the "front man" in this operation. Meanwhile, I noticed the tall, sturdy man peeking around my kitchen. "Why is he snooping?" I thought...

It wasn't long until he found what he was looking for--my mini broom and dustpan. He knelt down and began to sweep my floor. The short, round man had walked out the door at this point. The tall, sturdy man placed the dustpan back in the spot he found it, stood and spoke a sentence I understood quite clearly. 

"I wish I could stay and do the dishes, too." Then he nodded his head and walked out my door.

Matt 23:11-12 "But he that is greatest among you shall be your servant. And whosoever shall exalt himself shall be abased; and he that shall humble himself shall be exalted." 

Matt 20: 16 "So the last shall be first, and the first last..."

Matt 7: 1 "Judge not, that ye be not judged. For with what judgement ye judge, ye shall be judged: and with what measure ye mete, it shall be measured to you again."

Denver and the Baby

I assumed it was time for a life update. 

We are moving to Denver! I am pretty sure there is not a single person, who reads my blog, that does not already know this tidbit of news. For the sake of record keeping, however, there it is. We are excited about this. It is strange because the thought of leaving Ithaca makes us both want to cry. But, the thought of going to Denver makes us yell "COLORADO!!!!" every half hour--quite the dichotomy. 

Now onto the real purpose of this blog: Dime Ezra! 

Ezra is in the absolute most fun stage imaginable right now. I feel the need to knock on wood every time I say this because I don't want to jinx it. He is sleeping well, he is happy always, he is full of energy, he is so darn funny, he is incredibly social, he is chatty, he mimics everything we do, he is communicating so well, the list can go on and on. We genuinely look forward to when he wakes up in the morning and after naps.

He can say: dog, hat, hot, roar, moo, all done, mama, dada, papa, jesus, amen, sock, car, ball and snack. He can sign: prayer, brush teeth, bath time, milk, all done, more, again and please. He can spin in circles faster than I can. He loves to collect pinecones outside. Ezra is 90% joy, energy, curiousness, smarts, giggles, yogurt, and funny expressions. He is 10% squirmy. All 10% of that is at church. I welcome nursery with open arms.