11.18.2015

The Lord Delivers the Righteous: Psalm 34

Since the resurgence of my quest to find peace amidst the unceasing turmoil created by the evil of ISIS and other radical groups, I have had some astoundingly comforting and sweet time with The Lord. Daily, He has pointed me to promises made in scripture through His written Word. Today was no different.

The study I've been following for the last week or so had me resting in Psalm 34 this afternoon and it could not be more perfect for the current happenings around our globe. This is what I love about the Bible. There is no other book that can say the exact same thing through hundreds of years but speak so intimately and specifically to every person in every phase and season of life. The Bible is never irrelevant, regardless of societal beliefs.

In my particular Bible, each chapter/section of each book is titled. Psalm 34 is titled, "The Lord Delivers the Righteous." In the study notes, I learned that Psalm 34 is given this title because of its relation to David's deliverance from King Achish of Gath. Achish was a Philistine and knew that David had killed many Philistines in his time. David became paranoid that Achish would be after him soon and because David was already fleeing the grips of Saul, it seemed certain that death was gaining ground.

Isn't that true for us today? Doesn't it seem certain that death is gaining ground? That evil is conquering good? Couldn't we use some delivering today?

Friend, God has promised time and again that He delivers those who trust in him. Verse 7 of Psalm 34 says is beautifully, "The Angel of the Lord encamps around those who fear Him, and rescues them." Yahweh fights for His people (2 Kings 19:35). We need not be afraid, we have the Creator of the world on our side. We have the Giver of hope, the King of kings, and Lord of lords in our circle.

But here is one thing we must remember, deliverance doesn't always come this side of heaven. Suffering happens. Disasters occur. People groups get wiped out. Generations lost. But "the Lord redeems the life of His servants, and all who take refuge in Him will not be punished" (v. 22).

Our hope is not in this world. It is not in this life. We were made for something greater, somewhere greater. This place is not our home. We cannot expect safety on this earth. Our citizenship is in heaven, at the right hand of God. Even when disaster strikes, God is still on His throne. He is unchanged. He is unthwarted. When we truly believe that, we can say faithfully, "I will praise the Lord at all times; His praise will always be on my lips" (v.1).

11.16.2015

Love Thy Neighbor. Even the One Who Wants You Dead.

Paris has been attacked. ISIS is steadily gaining ground. Muslim extremists of other groups are continuing to destroy the Middle East and Africa. Drones of seemingly normal Americans are risking their lives to join ISIS. Floods of men, women, and children are begging their bordering neighbors and the United States to take them in as refugees, to protect them from their murderers who wish them extinct.

The happenings of our world have weighed heavily for years but, until now, I have had times of respite. The bloodbath in Paris has prompted my mind, once again, to grapple with grief, fear, and the search to find peace that my King is still in control. 

Saturday night I made a huge mistake. One that I work hard to avoid daily. I was baited and clicked a link to one of those ultra-bias, put the fear of God in readers, BS websites and watched a stupid anti-refugee propaganda video. I still can't believe I let that happen. C'mon, Wiggins! You're better than that. From there I found myself digging deeper into the rabbit hole of the interwebs. Never a good plan, but especially not after 9 pm.

With a heavy heart, I cried myself to sleep at 11:30, dreading the 7 am (or likely earlier) wake up call ahead. 

The next morning I awoke with, still, a heavy heart. After processing with my husband, I needed more encouragement so I decided to text some of my more thought out, mature friends. Unsurprisingly, they pointed me to the cross, as my husband had, through scripture and Godly wisdom. I am eternally grateful for the holy people God has placed in my life. They are truly amazing and I would unhesitatingly lay down my life for each of them.

Last week, our pastor began a new study titled "More than a tourist." In this series, we have discussed the extremes we tend to lean towards as Christians: a tourist, who works to blend in with the culture or a terrorist who works to destroy a culture. While we tend to identify with the extremes, Jesus's example was to be an ambassador, to represent our homeland (Heaven) and our ruler (God). I'm convinced that we have some serious prophetic thing happening in our church right now. The last two weeks have been perfectly on point with the current events (i.e. last week's Starbucks debacle, of which I am convinced was a joke and this week with the Paris attacks).

I knew worship would likely be an emotional time for me, considering the lump that had claimed residence in my throat the night before. However, no one could have fully prepared me for the intensity of the waterworks awaiting me in the sanctuary. One line into the second song and I was sobbing my face off. With red streaks down my face, where hot tears slid, along with that weird throaty sound your voice makes when you cry, I was a hot mess. I continued to sob throughout worship and the Lord continued to comfort my heart and speak truth to my soul.

The sermon this week, "Ambassadors of Hope", set up in 1 Peter 3:8-15

Verse 9 says, "Do not repay evil with evil or insult with insult. On the contrary, repay evil with blessing, because to this you were called so that you may inherit a blessing" (emphasis mine). We could have read verse 9, packed up, and gone to lunch. I cannot tell you exactly how many times I've heard or read that specific passage, but it's somewhere along 109,872 times. Approximately. 

Through my American lens, I've always read "evil" as "rude" but never as actually evil. The kind of evil that wants dead all those who oppose their views. The kind of evil that will rape young girls and behead men or burn them alive. Evil with a complete disregard for human life. This evil, this gut-wrenching, disgusting evil is what we are to repay with blessing -- did you read that? Blessing

My humanness wants to shut the borders to all for good. Lock the doors. Draw the shades. Hide under the covers. Screw the rest of you, you should've been born in America. Wow. Thank you Jesus for not reacting to my sin this way. Thank you for inviting me into your grace when I was but a sinner. Thank you for replacing my callous heart with Your heart of grace and mercy. 

Could an extremist weasel his way into our country somehow? Sure, one did in Paris. But as 2 Timothy 1:7 says "God gave us a spirit not of fear but of power and love and self-control." He is in control and he is calling us to find peace in him, even when it terrifies us, even when it means we may die, even when it means our children may die. He is calling us to find power and love in Him, through Him. He is calling us to take a chance for the least, the lost, and the lonely at the {potential} risk of danger. He is calling us to "love our neighbor as ourselves" (Mark 12:31). 

Trust me, I am scared, literally, for my life and yours. We have no way of knowing what will happen when we open our doors to strangers. That's life. We take chances every single moment of our lives. We have to trust God to mean it when he says that "His eyes are on the righteous and his ears are open to their prayer. But the face of the Lord is against those who do evil" (1 Peter 3:12). We have to trust that He defeated death when he rose from the grave (John 20, 1 Corinthians 15:55-57). We have to trust that His ways are higher than our ways (Isaiah 55:8-9). We have to believe Him or we will surely fail.

"For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you clothed me, I was sick and you visited me, I was in prison and you came to me.’ Then the righteous will answer him, saying, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you drink? And when did we see you a stranger and welcome you, or naked and clothe you? And when did we see you sick or in prison and visit you?’ And the King will answer them, ‘Truly, I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of these my brothers, you did it to me.’" Matthew 25:35-40

10.28.2015

But a Mist || Thoughts on Aging and A Charge to Care for the Elderly

As we pulled onto our street, I was met by an elderly man driving his electric wheelchair in the middle of the road. After my initial annoyance of "Why can't he drive on the sidewalk" wore off, I decided to check on him once we pulled into the driveway. 

I got out of my car and was greeted by the sweetest man. I asked him if he needed any help (water, a snack, me to call someone, etc). He told me no, that he lives with his son on the next street over and was moseying through the neighborhood, thinking about his wife. She'd passed away a few months ago and he has been missing her, although he says he knows he will see her again.

After assuring me that he was fine and repeatedly thanking me for checking on him, he scooted along on his way, enjoying the cool breeze and a Reese's peanut butter cup. I pulled in the garage, unloaded the kids, and we went inside. The full weight of this encounter struck me as I sat down to nurse Nora, as uncontrollable tears streamed down my face. 

It is so easy to get caught up in the monotony of today that I often forget life as I know it will not last forever. 
With littles surrounding my day, needing diaper changes, clean underwear, and endless snacks (so many snacks), it is incredibly easy to get wrapped up in the whirlwind of this moment when their livelihood depends on me. I forget so easily that there will be a day when these little babies grow into fully capable adults and move out of my house to find their place in this world. My job, in the now, is not to simply survive until the next moment. It is to thrive in every moment with joy and peace, thanking God for the gift of each new second I'm given.

And let's talk about the man responsible for giving me these precious babies. How many moments have drifted by me without a single ounce of gratefulness for his hard work or his selflessness? Way more than I'd like to admit. Many drowsy mornings, nursing a newborn, where I didn't even get off my behind to send him off to work with a smile. While I know that we all eventually lose someone we love, my husband is not usually one who falls into that "Future Loss" category. That place is typically reserved for grandparents and maybe parents. Realistically, though, our goodbye kiss this morning easily could have been our last. As grim a thought as that is, we simply do not know the hour we will be sent Home. 

Among these revelations from the brief interaction, was one I didn't expect. I do not appreciate my physical abilities like I should. There will, inevitably, be a day when my body is so worn out that I will no longer have the

luxury of relying on it. There will be a day when I will be reduced to a walker, cain, or even wheelchair - if I'm lucky. There may very well be a day when those little humans, I helped raise, will be changing my clothes or feeding me. While there are many days when this sounds ah-mazing, I cannot imagine the disappointment of such helplessness. There has ne'er been a burpee I enjoyed or a plank I wanted to repeat, but, have mercy, am I ever the more thankful that I can do one, if I so choose. 

I have always had a soft spot in my heart for the elderly. They seem so overlooked by our society but, man, they have such wisdom and insight to offer us, if we are willing to take a moment and listen. Next time you see an older person, don't let their frailty overwhelm you; be the neighbor you hope to have when you are one day in their orthotic shoes, because, friend, as much as we choose to avoid the thought, it will, indeed, happen to each of us. 

"Why, you do not even know what will happen tomorrow. What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes." James 4:14

"Religion that is pure and undefiled before God, the Father, is this: to visit orphans and widows in their affliction, and to keep oneself unstained from the world." James 1:27

7.14.2015

Remembering and Rejoicing

It was almost a year ago to the day that I woke up from an afternoon nap to use the bathroom and found blood in the toilet bowl. When you're 12 weeks pregnant, this is your biggest nightmare. My heart shattered. I knew I was losing this precious life that had been growing inside of me for almost 3 months. Fear, anxiety, anger, brokenness flooded my entire body. How could God let this happen to me? I had been healthy, eating right, exercising, taking organic prenatal vitamins -- going above and beyond what I did with my first pregnancy.

I had no idea how much God was going to teach us by allowing us to walk through this valley of fear, not knowing what was happening to my body and what was going to happen to our baby.

Through my questioning, worrying, and wondering, The Lord brought me peace. He brought me to a place where my fear met with his greatness; where the unknown met with his sovereignty. I had to face the ugliness of my doubt and decide whether or not I believed that God was all that He said he was. If I lost this child, would I still call him good? Would I still believed that he cared?

I don't know what it is like to lose a child but I know what it is like to believe you will. For so many this story doesn't end with a baby. For so many the bleeding continues and doesn't stop until the heart inside quits beating. For so many the day of remembering is not met with wide eyes and fuzzy hair. For you my heart aches. With you I grieve for your loss, your suffering, and your doubt. I will not turn a deaf ear to your cries or a blind eye to your tears. Your mourning is worth acknowledging. Your grief is worth joining.

My eyes flood with hot tears as I reflect on the day when I thought my world was crumbling. I am humbled that I stand on the other side with a squawking, giggling, healthy baby girl. I am blessed and I am lucky.

God is faithful. Even if the ending had been different, God is faithful. We will never know why he chooses to spare some and not others, we're not meant to understand. There is no rhyme or reason to those circumstances. All we do is trust that He is sovereign and believe that He will be the same through it all.

"Tho Satan should buffet, tho trials should come, lest this blest assurance control, that Christ hath regarded my helpless estate and hath shed his own blood for my soul. It is well, it is well with my soul." 

6.21.2015

To the Man Who is More…..

"Together we forge the throes of parenthood, rarely with ease but always with support. Time and again you have my back and that is what makes us great team"

Check out my debut post on the Fort Worth Moms Blog honoring all the dads who do it all! Check it out and maybe share it if you love it. Thanks for following and boosting my ego ;)

Much love, 
 Cate!!

5.20.2015

Confessions of a Functioning Bigot: White Privilege is an Actual Thing and I Had No Idea

Hi. My name is Cate and I'm a secret bigot. It has been one month since my last racist thought and I'm very sorry.

I feel relieved and embarrassed at the sight that sentence.

Admission is the first step.

Until about a month ago, I had no idea I was a secret racist and I'm guessing hoping you didn't know I was either. I grew up in Alabama and while that is not an excuse it is a fact that has made my bigotry hard to identify and overcome.

Now before I lose friends, let me clarify, I have never hated individual people of any color nor have I ever thought I was better than individual black, hispanic, etc. No, my bigotry was more broad and less obvious. My bigotry came in the subtle form of ignoring white privilege and the continued existence of racism, using words like "they" and "them", locking my car doors when I saw a black dude walking across the street (super subtle, right) because of course he was probably nice but you never know.  Granted, I locked my doors when a sketchy person of any color walked across the street, but isn't judging someone's character based on outward appearance, race or otherwise, bigotry?

With riots in Ferguson, New York, and more recently, Baltimore, I started seeing how my inner race monologue was actually a problem. Until recently, I couldn't understand why someone would be mad about the death of a criminal.

See, I grew up in a world where subtle racism was the norm. We liked black people but our hearts raced a little faster and our palms sweat a little more when we saw a "dark" group walking towards us. In high school, I was allowed to be friends with anyone I wanted but it was quite obvious I was not allowed/encouraged to date a black/mixed/non-white guy because "they have different backgrounds. Plus it would make life for your children very hard". We said things like "she's pretty…for a black girl"or "he's well-spoken…for a black dude." Even still, if you asked me 10 years ago if I were a racist, I would have told you "no".

My book club recently read the book Just Mercy: A Story of Justice and Redemption by Bryan Stevenson. The timing of reading this book could not have come into my life at a more perfect time. It came after Ferguson and New York with Baltimore happening right in the middle.

It is a social justice biography where Bryan Stevenson tells stories of legal racial and social injustice that occurred between the 1980s and 2000s and how he and his organization, Equal Justice Initiative in Montgomery, AL, represented "the innocent, the inadequately defended, the children, the domestic abuse survivors, the mentally ill—the imprisoned" (review by Amy Cheney, Alameda County Library, Juvenile Hall, CA). He tells several stories of injustice throughout the book but the main story throughout is about a man named Walter McMillian, a black man accused of the murder of a young white woman in Monroeville, AL (Rob's hometown).

Long story short, a young woman, Ronda Morrison, was murdered in broad daylight at the cleaners where she worked and when, after months of searching, police officials could not figure out who did it, they pinned the murder on Walter who had a plethora of witnesses at his home for a barbecue during the time of the murder. Walter was sent to death row before he ever had a court date. Stevenson took on Walter's case and eventually, after many years and even more hurdles, got Walter released from prison. Sorry for the spoiler, but google would tell you the same thing.

Throughout his book, Stevenson shared multiple stories where someone had been wrongly accused, unethically treated in jail or prison, sentenced to death or life in prison as a child for violent and nonviolent acts (most of whom were mentally or emotional impaired). At the beginning of every new story, Stevenson always gave background to the subject. He did this because it is unfair to define someone by what they do and ignore from where they come.

When we white people complain about our black counterparts rioting or protesting in the streets, running from cops even though innocent, claiming racism when we see otherwise, we are not taking into account the years decades centuries of racial injustice: lynchings, hangings, beatings, oppression that our dear friends and their families have faced.

It has not been that long since a black man could be found hanging from a street corner tree because he was accused of looking at a white woman the wrong way. It has not been that long since dogs were commanded to attack a black woman for peacefully marching across a bridge for racial equality. It has not been that long since a young black girl was verbally attacked by grown white men and women as she walked into an empty schoolhouse because all the white parents refused to bring their white children to school that day.

There are deep seeded and long standing feelings of fear and oppression in the black community that we cannot simply ignore or deny. 

I get it, though, racism gets thrown out there a lot when the black community has routine interactions with police, like being pulled over, and it annoys white people. This is where white privilege comes into play. When we get pulled over for speeding, we realize it was because we were speeding. When a black person gets pulled over, his/her mind automatically assumes race and here's why: history has trained him/her that everything is about the color of his/her skin.

White people: we don't assume race because we've never had to. That is white privilege. 

It is no secret that Freddie Gray and Eric Garner had broken the law. Freddie had the illegal switch blade and Eric had been illegally selling cigarettes, allegedly at least. I don't think anyone is arguing whether or not the crimes they committed were illegal. What people are arguing, why the black community is so upset (and we should be too), is that these men are now dead because of minor and nonviolent crimes.

As citizens of the United States of America, these men deserved a day in court; a chance to defend themselves in front of a judge and jury. They will never get that chance because they are now dead. Regardless of the color of the policemen who killed them, they died at the hands of law enforcement and they shouldn't have. The black community isn't upset because black men and women get arrested. They're upset because they feel targeted and they're upset because our white privilege denies them their experiences every time we deny that racism still exists.

In the book, Just Mercy, Bryan Stevenson tells of an encounter he had with an elderly black woman after a day in court defending one of his many cases. The woman explained to him that every week she would come to the courthouse to comfort the people in pain. When her grandson was just 15-years-old, he was murdered. His murderers (also young black men) were sent to prison for the rest of their lives. She, at first, thought their conviction would make her feel better but it didn't. After their day in court, she sat in the courtroom and cried when a stranger came up to her and let her lean on them for comfort. After that encounter, she decided that she was "supposed to be here to catch some of those stones people cast at each other."

Thinking of racial injustice is very overwhelming. We have a lot of time to make up for and a long road of recovery still ahead of us. We won't always get it right, but the risk of fumbling through racial reconciliation is a risk worth taking. We have to start somewhere. I suggest we start by becoming stone catchers instead of stone casters. We can help rebuild broken relationships from long ago, one stone at a time.

"Constantly being suspected, accused, watched, doubted, distrusted, presumed guilty, and even feared is a burden borne by people of color that can't be understood or confronted without a deeper conversation about our history of racial injustice." Bryan Stevenson

"And as they continued to ask him, He stood up and said to them 'Let him who is without sin among you throw the first stone." John 8:7 

5.05.2015

Exciting News!!!

After toying with the idea for a few weeks almost a year, I finally decided to take a chance and go for it. With encouragement from some close friends, I went for it and I GOT IT!

I'm excited to announce that I am one of the newest contributors for the Fort Worth Moms Blog!!!!


I am working on my first post right now!!! Whether you are a local Fort Worth mama or just a mama who needs encouragement or a good laugh, check out our blog at www.fortworthmomsblog.com

3.12.2015

Then There Were Four Part 2

At 4:40 am, I woke up to my first consistent contraction. 10 minutes later I had another. These were different from the Braxton Hicks I had been experiencing for weeks. They were equally as painful but they started in my back rather than in the middle of my torso. Since my doula and midwife both live 40 minutes north of us and rush hour was about to start I decided to give them a heads up.

My doula, Tonya, had just gotten to her workout and since my contractions were somewhat sporadic in timing and length she decided to come after her workout. No big deal, but I knew I'd be needing her help soon.

Elijah woke up around 6:40 and we alerted our dear friends to come get him when they were up for the day so he could play while we labored. Rob and I are both incredibly thankful baby girl came when she did. If she decided to come in the night we were planning to let him keep sleeping. Now after knowing how much we moved around the house and how loud delivery was, there's no way he would have slept through it all in our 1400+ sq. ft. house.

Tonya arrived at 7 as Elijah was leaving with the Bonnoitt's. Y'all. Let me tell you. Doulas are Jedi masters. For real. She actually made labor manageable and somewhat enjoyable. Disclaimer: results not typical BUT if you want to give natural labor a chance, GET A DOULA!!! She's totally worth the money. Snaps for Tonya. You rock sister!!

Two hours after Tonya arrived, my magnificent midwife, Sue, pulled up. Sometime after that my BFF and family photographer, Aliciana, and then the second midwife showed up. Forgive the vagueness but well…I was in labor.

In stark contrast from E's labor, this one was really not bad. Sure contractions hurt in the throws of them, but I don't feel like I ever got "in the zone" like most women do. I was pretty chatty between contractions and even remember Tonya and Sue both telling me not to entertain and instead to focus on laboring. Looking back I laugh because I was really laboring and making progress, it just really wasn't that bad (which I sort of feel like I deserved seeing as I went TWO WEEKS past my due date).

In preparation for labor I read a few encouraging scripts to read or recite during labor. There was one that stuck out to me the most and several times throughout labor I repeated it to myself. "Every new wave of pain brings you closer and closer to meeting your new baby." Each time I repeated this to myself I felt my emotions overtake me. I had waited so long to meet this precious girl and it was finally happening. Truly, every new contraction brought me closer to meeting my newest angel.

At 11 am, we decided it'd be a good idea to have Sue check my dilation progress. As we walked down the hallway to the bedroom, Rob encouraged me not to be disappointed if I wasn't farther along than I hoped. I completely agreed, thinking I was maybe 5 cm dilated. Little did we know that I was actually WAY further along than any of us thought. At 11 am after just 6 hours of laboring, I was already 9 cm dilated and the sack was beginning to bulge. (I apologize for the descriptive post, but c'mon you're reading a post about my labor…it's gonna be descriptive.)

I'm so glad that I didn't tell Sue to hold off on the check like I had considered. Otherwise I may have been giving birth in the hallway on our hardwoods.

After realizing pushing was just around the corner, I got into the birthing pool (blow up pool we rented from the midwife). Things were not chatty for long. Soon it was time to push. And holy schnikies was it time to push. Since I didn't have the epidural this time like I did last time, I realized that I totally romanticized this part of the process. With E, I just felt pressure. With this one, I felt e-ver-y-thin-guh!!! The pressure, the burning, the stretching, the tearing (2 degrees which my midwife was able to stitch up at home). Everything. The water helped a little I think, but it was still quite painful.

After several "I seriously can't do this" statements, more comments on it being the worst bowel movement of my life (trying to keep it light, ya know) and what felt like 3 hours of pushing, my baby girl was born. In the sack.

I don't know if you know this already, and maybe you do, but it is SUPER rare for a baby to be born in the sack (or more scientifically the caul). If the sack doesn't break during labor, most doctors end up breaking them either during labor to hurry things along or just before the mom begins to push. Most midwives, however, don't mess with it. With every push Sue and Tonya kept saying how strong my sack was because it kept bulging and not breaking. I really think that's what made her delivery so painful. I was clearly trying to push out steel. Once I finally heard that they could see her head, I gave it one big push and in one contraction girlfriend was outta there! She never even crowned.

At 12:08 pm, after 6.5 hours of labor and 30-40 min of pushing we welcomed into the world our beautiful daughter, Nora Kathryn Wiggins. After she was delivered, Nora was promptly placed on my chest for bonding while her cord finished pulsing (about 15 minutes). Sue then clamped the cord and Rob cut it. Getting out of the tub, my placenta was still intact. So that was…um…interesting. I delivered the placenta in our bed atop cheap sheets we'd been sleeping on since week 36, a towel, and some large puppy pad looking mats. While I got sewed up, my herbal bath was prepared. When my sutures were finished I soaked in the bath (good for healing) and not long after I got in, Nora joined me. She loved the warm water and almost fell asleep a few times.

Nora is every bit of amazing and we are so grateful to all those who prayed for us during her pregnancy. Her birth was something I'll never forget and was far more than I could have imagined. I am eternally grateful for my birth team: Tonya, Sue, and, of course, Rob. I most definitely could not have had the success I did without each of you. Your encouragement meant and still does mean the world to me. Thank you for trusting my body to do what it was created to do and for believing in me that I really could do it. Rob and I are so incredibly thankful to God for entrusting us a second time with one of his precious children. I pray I never take for granted their wonderfulness.

And now I leave you with some of my favorite photos of the day.



Not sure what's happening here, but I love the excitement in Rob's face
 
This guy was a rock star!!
 Tonya being her Jedi self

 SHE'S HERE!!!



 Herbal Bath with Mama

 Nora Kathryn

8 lbs, 4 oz, 21" long

3.11.2015

Then There Were Four Part 1

I'll make this part brief. I'm a horrible blogger, it's been like 7 months since my last post, I apologize, blah, blah, blah! You know the drill.
In the time between this post and my last, we found out we were having a daughter. I went two weeks past my due date (with my second child I might add. um hello body, that's not how it's supposed to go) and I gave birth completely unmedicated at home. Here's part 1 to the story of how I brought my beautiful baby girl into this world.

I was due January 27th and at 34/35 weeks I had already begun dilating. At the advice of my midwife I decided to take it easy so that we could keep baby girl in long enough to ensure that we could still have the birth I was wanting (it's Texas state law that you cannot deliver a baby at home before 37 weeks). At 38 weeks I was dilated 3 cm. After weeks of very strong Braxton Hicks (practice) contractions we thought for sure this little girl was coming early.
40 weeks came. Then 41. Every morning I woke up slightly depressed as I looked down at my still pregnant belly. I cried pretty much every morning when Rob prepared to leave for work. My energy was wiped clean but I still had to be mom to my 2 year old son. It was during this time that I was am so thankful to have had the support of my wonderful husband, midwife, doula, and village of moms. It is quite discouraging to go 2 weeks past your due date, have not one, not two, but three letdown nights of non-progressing contractions.

Between 41 wks, 2 days and 41 wks, 6 days, my midwife striped my membranes 3.5 times, I took rounds of Start Up herbal supplement, blue cohosh, cotton root, and red raspberry leaf tea, got adjusted with a chiro, had two pedicures, and one acupuncture session.

It's hard to be almost 2 weeks late and have 5 (yes 5!!) babies come before your baby who were due after your baby. I decided that if the acupuncture didn't work, I was done trying. I might as well just lay on the couch, watch Friends and eat Joe Joe's.

Monday (41 weeks, 6 days) at 11 am, I had my first acupuncture session. 18 hours later, I woke up to the first consistent contraction.