Day 3,295: Welcoming Nora June

Let's call this the almost-a-year-old-walk-down-memory-lane post and not the mama-didn't-write-Nora's-story-before-now post! We are quickly approaching her first birthday and it never ceases to amaze me how much impact ONE day can have. Here is the story of Nora's day....

I woke up the morning of December 1, 38 weeks pregnant on the nose, feeling all kinds of off. I had nausea, gastrointestinal fun, felt achy, and my braxton hicks contractions had stepped up a notch. I took a bath full of epsom salts and oils (maybe my FAVORITE thing to do this pregnancy) and tried to relax. Ordinarily, potential labor at 38 weeks pregnant would have made me giddy but December 1 was the day dear friends were getting married! Oh, and Paul was a groomsman and I was coordinating for them. My mom was in town to help me with the chicks and the wedding details. All morning, I was talking to my sweet Nora explaining that this day was not about us and if possible, we wanted the Bowman wedding to be about the almost-Bowmans and not the Newest Nixon.

Yes, I realize I was negotiating with a baby without the power or comprehension to change any of this but alas, I chatted still. At this point, my contractions seemed to be picking up steam and we were just praying we could get through the reception, all the while shifting our mindset that this baby was coming this weekend.

Well, we made it through the reception.
And the weekend.
And the next week.
And the next week.
Nora June was apparently just doing a trial run on Dec 1. When the happy couple returned from their honeymoon, we told them all the details we had not shared with them that day! It was a funny memory to add to their beautiful day!

Wednesday December 12 was a super emotional and weepy day. I had been up a lot in the wee hours and was just feeling ready. We had marked all the things off of all the lists, the wedding was done, and the day before we'd even been to the capitol to see the Christmas trees in the House and the Senate. Final pre-birth Chick adventure done!

We were ready.

Wednesday afternoon I was texting a friend "So, I'm trying to figure out if my water broke or not!?!" I did a few "tests" and decided that it was most likely not my water after all. Maybe. I wasn't convinced it was urine but didn't have any confirmation it was my water. I was feeling mild tensing but definitely not intense or painful contractions. Once Paul got home from work, I got in the bathtub. I still felt like maybe my water was slowly leaking but wasn't sure. As we were putting the girls in bed, Sophie said "Mom, what are we doing tomorrow?" I burst into tears and said "I don't know. It depends if we're having a baby or not!" Sweet little Soph just said "I hope we have a baby, mommy."

I laid on the couch watching Netflix and had managed to get super comfortable. Clearly it was not worth the risk of moving to bed and being uncomfortable, so I decided to just sleep on the couch. At 12:40am I was startled awake. I looked around to see what had woken me up and saw nothing but realized I had to go to the bathroom. When I stood up, I felt a gush and realized my water breaking is what had awakened me. I woke up Paul, then called the doulas at 12:49am. (After having a less than ideal experience with my epidural with Eva, we decided that this was going to be an unmedicated birth. We also knew that we wanted a doula there to help support us in a natural labor. ATX Doulas was an amazing addition to our birth team!) Diana answered and asked me if I had had any contractions yet; I hadn't. She asked how I was feeling and what I wanted to do. Immediately I said "We need to go." Laboring at home can be super relaxing but I knew I couldn't turn off my mama brain if we were at home and I just had this inexplicable urgency to GO. And after reviewing my labor history at one of my last appointments, my OB wanted me to come in quickly if my water broke. (With my previous three labors, once I was at 6cm, I had a baby in my arms 45 minutes to an hour later.) We left home at 1:15am, after Kitty arrived to keep the girls, and Diana was on her way to the hospital to meet us. I had about four contractions on the way to the hospital that I couldn't talk through.

At about 2am, Dr Rouhani checked me in triage and I was 4cm, 70% effaced, and -3 station. She said everything looked good and she was going to take a nap and let me progress naturally. She planned to check my progress at 5am unless I needed her sooner. Apparently there was a baby storm that night (hence, the nap) and our amazing triage nurse got to stay with us to be our amazing labor and delivery nurse. Looking back, I can see the providence in each detail. The hour before we arrived, five other mamas arrived in labor; four were admitted. We have now had four awesome experiences at this hospital and the nurses have been great! But being our first unmedicated labor, God knew the nurse we needed to support us 100%. Ashley was a gift!

We got to our labor and delivery room about 2:15am and my contractions were getting more intense. Standing and swaying back and forth was helping me get through each one. That, and Paul had the diffuser going full blast, Diana turned the lights down and put Christmas lights along the window (seriously, BEST doula ever! Christmas lights make birth all kinds of magical, BTW), and we turned my playlist on! Honestly, this is how I always imagined labor would go but when it came down to it, I never made a "birth plan" so I wouldn't be disappointed if it didn't happen that way. It was actually super helpful to make a birth plan this time. Not as a plan that cannot be altered, but more as an exercise to determine our preferences and be prepared with helpful things.

As the contractions continued to get more intense, being on my hands and knees on the bed really helped me get through each one. Diana was applying counter-pressure to my tailbone and hips, I was focused on my breathing, and working on breaking Paul's hand from squeezing it. At some point in the midst of this, I remember looking at the clock on the computer monitor and seeing 3:30am.

Diana could see the contractions getting closer together and I wasn't handling them quite as well so she encouraged me to get in the shower. Water in labor is phenomenal. Oh my word. My legs were giving out with each contraction but the heat from the water was so helpful to get through each one. I was in the shower about 20 minutes when I had this overwhelming sense that I needed to get back to the bed. I just kept saying "We need to get back to bed. I need to go now. I need to be in the bed now." I looked at Diana and said "They are coming really fast now!" and was starting to panic a little. She grabbed my arm, smiled at me, and said "Because she's almost here." I wanted to spiral off into hysteria and her calm response, her refusal to join me in my hysteria, shifted my focus.

As soon as I got back to the bed, again on my hands and knees, Ashley checked me. It was 4:40am and I was complete: 10cm, 100% effaced, and she was at +2 station. I am still amazed at the amount of progress since 2am. Such good, swift, yet very HARD work.

It was go time. My contractions were on top of one another so it was really hard to recover in between and I wasn't focusing on my breathing. I remember saying "Noooo!" with each new contraction and Paul, Diana, and Ashley would all respond with "Yes! You are doing so well!!" Finally I said "I can't do this!" and I heard Dr Rouhani say "Her head is out!" After a few contractions without any continued progress, Dr Rouhani asked me to change my position and get on my side because Nora's shoulders were stuck and we needed to get her out. Let me assure you this is no easy task mid-delivery. But doing so allowed just the shift necessary for her shoulders to be delivered. At 5:03am they laid Nora June Nixon next to me on the bed; a mere 4 hours and 23 minutes after my water broke.

Honestly, I was in shock about what just happened. Apparently Nora was, too; she was reluctant to cry at first and wasn't taking consistent breaths. As the nurse rubbed her back to stimulate her, Dr Rouhani cut the cord preparing to whisk her to the warming bed. The nurse was still rubbing her back and I managed to say "Is she ok?!" Dr Rouhani said "We may need to take her for a minute if she doesn't respond." Immediately, Nora let out a short but loud scream as if to say "Don't take me from my mama!" 

I was hypersensitive to touch and any movement so I needed a bunch of help to get from my side to my back. But then, this now-screaming precious baby, a gift of abundance at the end of a crazy year, was happily nursing, with her hand pressed against my chest. Be still my heart. 3,295 days after that first date, we met daughter #4 face to face.

"Intense" doesn't even begin to describe delivery.

Pain I had never known existed, that ended as immediately as it started.

A strength in surrender I had no concept of before.

God's amazing provision in every detail, large and small.

By 7:30am, I had eaten a meal, ordered another meal (hello post-labor appetite), showered, and was wearing my own pajamas. Holy smokes! That. just. happened. We really just did that.

Family was on their way into town when my chicks arrived to meet their newest sister. The same baby they had lovingly watched on the ultrasound screen and excitedly listened to her "heartbeep" for months. Dressed in her "baby sister" onesie, Nora's Big, Bigger, and Biggest sisters arrived with giggles and grins (and the same bows they each wore when they were born).

God lavishing his love on us in the form of a fourth birth we were told would never happen blows me away. No one but God would plan to add a baby to our family the same year we had so much financial uncertainty. No one but God could reveal new definitions of abundance in the tiny face of a new daughter. No one but God could have given me glimpses* of this gift almost two full years before her arrival. But God.

We are not a perfect family. We are definitely not perfect parents. But we serve a perfect God. And for reasons I may never fully understand, He saw fit to give us babies that will forever point us back to how miraculous and marvelous His ways are; how He abounds with joy and abundance.

Sidenote: When we delivered Eva, my epidural had waned and I thought I was feeling full on labor. Did you see the important word? Thought. I thought I had felt full on labor. I was wrong. Full on, unmedicated labor was much more intense than I had realized. Immediately after Nora came, I thought "There's no way in the world we're doing that again." Having had some distance from it now, I can say, while I might want something to take the edge off, I would, indeed, go without an epidural again.

*I have notes from October 2017 and November 2017 about very vivid labor dreams. "Vivid" meaning I woke up thinking, at first, that it was memories from a real labor only to realize it was a dream. However, the details from these dreams line up very closely with how Nora's birth actually transpired. God never ceases to amaze me! In one, I was laying on my side and the OB said "we need to get her out." The other, I could feel the OB putting pressure on the baby's head to check her position. Then she said "I'm going to give you a little test and if all looks good we'll let this progress naturally."

Invade the Darkness, Replace the Noise

Since mid-October we have spent many mornings listening to Christmas music and enjoying pumpkin pancakes. I used to be one that was against anything Christmas until the day after Thanksgiving and slowly that has shifted. Sometimes, you just need to infuse a day with some Christmas joy! (*Note: I am still wholeheartedly against Christmas trees showing up in stores in July, but I digress.*) As of late, that has meant a plate full of pancakes, sticky syrup smiles, and a glimpse of the work God is doing. For much longer than I care to admit, finding consistent joy, tuning out the noise, and hearing the laughter has been an uphill battle.  Our last Christmas was marked with having an adorable newborn and the emotional trauma and struggle of postpartum depression (PPD). 

The last 11 months have included an emotional roller coaster, digging into hard emotional truths, working through the marital ramifications PPD brings, and taking three steps forward seemingly followed by taking two steps back. If you have never experienced anxiety, depression, antenatal depression, or postpartum depression it is not a club I want you to join. And if you have, I am sincerely sorry that you know the reality of this struggle. Despite having found a good combination of supplements to support my brain and mental health, there is additional, hard work to do; learning more effective coping skills, identifying triggers, establishing boundaries, sifting through emotional baggage, relearning when to trust my own filters, and learning to recognize when I'm going into the pit. A great friend, who unfortunately knows the struggle of anxiety all too well, said it beautifully to me:

"It's next to impossible to see clearly when you're in the pit. From my vantage point on the outside of the pit, I can see you in it, but I can also see everything on the surface. You can just see the dirt. It's not your filter. It's just your circumstance. Your filter works fine. But your filter can only filter out what it can actively see."

This was so encouraging to me and helped those two steps back feel a little less defeating. Okay, but back to the Christmas songs, remember?! Songs speak to me. Multiple times God has used songs to speak directly to my heart. This was no different. Every word of "The Singer" by David Phelps pierced through the darkness of the pit. It wasn't a magic button that fixed everything but it allowed some light to break through the cracks in the dirt. When there is a cloudy, gloomy day, logically I know that the sun is still there. Likewise, I know that regardless of my feelings, that often don't tell me the truth, God is the same as He has always been. When I feel distance, it isn't God who has moved. He is there when I'm in the pit, as I am climbing out, and when I am walking on solid ground again. 

Nothing invades the darkness quite like the sunrise...especially when seen from a plane.

Another line of this song shines brighter than the rest to me as well: "Replace the noise, with sweet harmony." A couple of weekends ago, I had the opportunity to meet my mom and sisters in New Orleans to celebrate my mom's 70th birthday. I landed a couple of hours before my family and it was a strange, yet profound time in the airport. I found myself uncomfortable with the lack of chaos. I literally could not figure out what I needed or wanted to do. Was I hungry? Was I thirsty? Did I need to go to the bathroom? Was I tired? Did I want to read? People-watch? The more I attempted to determine the answer, the harder and more anxious I became. Even without the noise of my chicks, there was the noise from my own mind filling the void. And oh, how much noise is there coming from every angle?!? Social media, magazines, well-meaning advice, unrealistic expectations....and in my experience with PPD, normal, everyday things become even more noise. As I sat in the airport reading, slowly the noise started to fade and the words of this song were almost tangible...."Replace the noise, with sweet harmony." 

Only One can invade darkness with light (even the darkness of a pit), only One can turn noise into harmony. The One that came to die for me, and you. Me in all my mess. You in yours. Me in all my shortcomings and struggles. You in yours. I don't know what this journey will look like tomorrow but I know Jesus will be the same tomorrow...and the beautiful music begins at His command....

The Singer, by David Phelps

The music began at His command

And the Singer drew his breath

The melody rose and dawned on the land

And pierced the emptiness

And from a barren and lonely place

Life began to spring

As on the stage of time and space

God threw back His head and began to sing

Let there be light

Invade the darkness

Fill up the void

Replace the noise

With sweet harmony

Let there be joy

And echoes of laughter

And the Singer sings on

And still writes the song of the redeemed

Though beautifully sung, the song went unheard

And darkness returned again

But God had a plan in the second verse

To win back the hearts of man

A star rose up in the eastern sky

That night in Bethlehem

And as the baby Jesus cried

God sang out His song and the angels joined in

Let there be light, invade the darkness

Fill up the void, replace the noise

With sweet harmony

And let there be joy, and echoes of laughter

And the Singer sings on and still writes the song Of the redeemed

And every time a soul receives that joyful Christmas song

He rises from His throne and all creation sings along

Let there be light, invade the darkness

Fill up the void, replace the noise

With sweet harmony

And let there be joy, and echoes of laughter

And the Singer sings on and still writes the song Of the redeemed

And the Singer sings on and still writes the song Of the redeemed

Let there be light let the darkness be shaken

Let there be light let the soul be awakened Of the redeemed

Eyes, Puzzles, and Proverbs 31

Have you ever studied the human? The mind reels at the complexity of merely one part of our anatomy. As if the human body wasn't complicated enough to point to a Creator, learning more about the intricacies of the eye leaves no question in my mind. And yet, I remember when I first learned about the rods and cones and how the images our eyes see are actually inverted in the eye and flipped by the brain. The pupil is like the most advanced window ever; altering its size to allow the proper amount of light in for any given environment. The eyebrows and eyelashes are like soldiers designed to keep intruders from invading. And yet, despite learning all that the eye is does without me even thinking about it, I remember being annoyed when I learned one more fact: The eye focuses on only one thing at at time. I remember thinking "That can't be true. I'm going to prove that wrong." And then proceeding to look around believing I would be able to focus on multiple things at once. Nope. You can't. But I bet you, too, are trying it right now just to be sure.

image from allaboutvision.com

Just typing that makes me kind of giggle at my arrogance. To take this amazingly complex gift of sight and be annoyed at the one thing I felt like it couldn't do. I was no longer impressed at the design that allowed my eye to focus on anything at various distances, or the fact that I could take in all that surrounded me. Nope. I was annoyed at this limitation. Sure, we have peripheral vision that allows us to see things like a widescreen and our amazing brains can recognize so much that isn't in focus (for example, I can tell which toys are covering my floor right now even as I stare at the computer screen). But where I place my eyes is the only thing in focus. We were never meant to live in the peripheral. 

Perhaps, this aspect of the eye that I perceived as a limitation is actually by design.  I believe God created and designed us (Genesis 1:26-27; Genesis 2:18-23). Scripture also says that He never intended for us to have the knowledge of good and evil (Genesis 2:16, Genesis 3:22). God wanted us to focus on Him as the creator and provider and He wanted us to not carry all the knowledge he has. And from the beginning, our focus has been divided from him and we have pushed against our designed boundaries. 

My girls were struggling with a puzzle the other day and I was explaining that it is easier to find all the edges first....

"Find all the pieces with a straight side and put those together first. Then you know where the boundary is." They were so eager to see the puzzle completed, they didn't want to sort the pieces and find the edges first. But once we did, they could more easily see where other pieces fit. The border defined the space and helped anchor all the rest of the puzzle.

I giggled as their little minds were blown at how helpful knowing the boundary was after they were so against completing it this way. And then I realized what a good image this is for how I live my life! God is very clear about the boundary lines for me: he tells me what I am capable of on my own, he places desires in my heart, he has gifted me in certain areas and not in others, he aligns circumstances to bring about his plans for my life. And daily I argue that it would be easier without setting that boundary first; I set about my day based on my own list, I am disappointed when I don't get things I decided would be best for me, I measure my own success based upon gifts and skills he has gifted to others, I make my "should-be-doing" list based on the advice of people in a different season with different circumstances, and I get annoyed when I can't do all the things, all the time. 

And then I read Psalm 16:5-6 and I am given a new perspective:

Lord, You alone are my portion and my cup;

you make my lot secure.

The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places;

Surely I have a delightful inheritance.

The first two lines go back to the eye and focusing on one thing: Lord. The next two lines show a beautiful acceptance of what the Lord has given: boundaries. 

Recently, I was listening to a the Journey Woman podcast (episode 69) with Hannah Anderson. In that episode, Hannah explains the importance of having humility in accepting the limitations of being human and having 24 hours in the day. This brought me full circle with my eye and puzzle images: I can be annoyed at what I am perceiving as a limitation or I can be humble enough to recognize that the Author and Creator of my faith set my boundary lines on purpose. This is hard for me to do when I often think "this won't take long, we can get that done, too", "this is a worthy task to take on even though it is a lot, we'll figure it out", "if I say yes to this, I'll should say no to that but I think we'll do both". Sometimes God is calling us to do something seemingly too big so his power and provision can be displayed. Other times he is calling us to not do something (even a worthy something) so his power and provision can be displayed.  

Other words stick out to me from Psalm 16:5-6...secure, pleasant, delightful. I think my human brain sees boundaries like my girls saw the border of the puzzle: something to restrain us. But the reality is that there is immense FREEDOM found in the boundaries set by the Lord. It is an amazingly beautiful contradiction that only Jesus can prove true: these loving boundaries provide more freedom than we can fathom. My constant striving to push through and demolish the limits with which I was lovingly designed means I am often missing the gifts of the season I currently find myself. 

I want to be all of Proverbs 31 in a day, so to speak. My wonderful counselor explained, as she was taught, that Proverbs 31 is a view over a lifetime; it's not a to-do list for daily living. That woman was likely focused on a single aspect at a time for a specific season. Embracing the focus God is giving me right now doesn't diminish the focus he has given in the past and doesn't mean this will remain the focus forever; its a season. The boundaries lines have always and will always fall in pleasant places even as the picture on the puzzle (focus) changes with different seasons of life.

There seems to be a disconnect...

I love a good analogy. Even better if I can get a mental picture to help me grasp a concept. One of my favorites is the analogy of our walk being like a lamp. A lamp can't shine light unless it is connected to the power source. Likewise, I can't shine the light of Jesus unless I am plugged into the source--i.e. spending time with God in the Word. This analogy took on a whole new meaning for me a few weeks ago.....

I was drying my hair and somehow dropped the hairdryer. It hit the floor with a deafening crash yet continued running. Parts spilling out, wires visible, yet it was still running. I slide the switch to "off" to no avail; it kept running. I slid the temperature switch from hot to cool; hot air continued. It was plugged into the power source but somewhere there was clearly a disconnect. The hairdryer wasn't responding to the signals to stop running, stop blowing air, change the output.

I started to tear up standing in my bathroom because never was there a more accurate analogy to how my journey with antepartum/postpartum depression and anxiety has been. Feeling broken, insides spilling out and visible, and feeling like there is a distinct disconnect from my Source.

I have poured over scriptures about anxiety and prayed desperate prayers at all hours of the day.
I have also been comforted by scriptures of those struggling in the bible, those who are weary, defeated, and exhausted.
I have stood in my kitchen literally walking in circles unable to wrap my brain around the steps to make pasta for my family.
I have cried in various aisles at HEB trying to calculate which option is the better deal.
I have cried so many tears on my sweet baby's head from overwhelming guilt of not being able to produce enough milk for her (or any of her sisters).
I have chosen a particular brand of pacifier/bottles simply because of the marketing that read "feels the most like the mother's breast" (is this even true!?! are the babies confirming this for them?!?).
I have physically struggled to answer the question "What can I do to help?"
I have been too tired to sleep--who even knew that was a thing?!
I have been hyper-critical of my husband.
I have hulked out on my family more than I hope anyone remembers.
I have felt like there was a physical barrier to me accessing my faith--like throwing a ball against a low ceiling only to have it bounce back and smack you in the face.
I have wrestled with the idea that I am both not enough and I am enough simultaneously.
I have read other women's accounts of their own journeys and felt encouraged I am not alone and also so sad that there are others in this boat. 

Admittedly, reading my bible hasn't always happened daily and it is something I am working to improve. Despite it all, feeling like I have been uprooted and knocked over, I have also seen God do a great many things through this....new life, new branches, new growth.

I have been encouraged by some amazing women of God who have walked their own unique, but similar, journey.
I have seen God provide counselors for us that can encourage us in the word, untangle my thoughts and feelings, and offer invaluable support.
I have learned, through counseling, that this has been a battle for longer than Paul or I realized.
I have felt layers of clouds lift as we have found better combinations of supplements and diet changes that are working for me.
I have a 4 year old who declared "Guess what I can say now?! Postpartum depression!" with the biggest smile on her face and all the pride she could find! This was a gift, because despite my struggles, my girls are getting a front row seat to how God works through hard things. 
I have come to understand that even with Jesus, I will never be enough-that is why I need HIM. And because of my Creator, I am enough just the way He designed me (my own unattainable standards not withstanding).

I had a day recently where I texted a couple of friends saying that I felt more like myself than I had in a really long time. And then I have days where I can feel the clouds almost tangibly. And thankfully I have been given, and am continuing to learn, more tools to help navigate and handle the bouts of anxiety and depression. But more than anything else, I have seen God in a whole new light.

God intricately designed our bodies and everything from hormones to emotions to our brains to our digestive system--it is all interconnected--by design. So when I get sucked into thinking I just need to add a little more faith and a little more Jesus and this wouldn't be a struggle, I remember this is both a spiritual AND physical battle. More Jesus is never wrong and there is purpose in the hard (see the image below). Dealing with the physical disconnect (be it hormonal imbalances, adrenal fatigue, thyroid issues, lack of sleep, a mineral deficiency, etc) is also a vital part of the good, hard work of healing. Were I the lamp, and my bulb had burned out, no amount of electricity would make it turn on.

God is ALWAYS there when I call His name.
God hears me and sees me. God has not forgotten me.
God is good even when life is hard.

Something's been brewing....

Something's been brewing....God has been whispering to my heart for a while now to start writing again. I have a notebook filled with scribbles and notes that wouldn't make sense to anyone else; and sometimes not even to me. My kids will say something and the phrase on repeat in my head is "that's a blog post." Honestly, there are so many thoughts swirling in my head about this:

How fun!!
Wait, are you sure I have anything helpful to share?
What if no one reads it?
What if everyone reads it?
Can I make the time?
I have messed up and still mess up--really, me?!
Are you sure, Lord?
Writing is fun and I enjoy it!
I have been hurt by sharing in the past, what if that happens again?
Are you really sure, Lord?
Do I know enough about the bible?

And then I realized that every one of these questions makes this about me. And obedience has little to do with me and everything to do with God; His purposes; His plans; His timing; His call.

I won't always get it right. I'll take scripture out of context unintentionally. Heaven knows, I'll probably overshare my feelings and thoughts. But God....

God knows the why. He knows why he is asking me to do this. He knows who will read it. He knows who will keep scrolling and who will find the encouragement for which they have been praying. God knows....because this is about Him.

So all my questions above still remain, swirling in my head. And they don't matter. Because God called and said its time.

I started this blog years ago to chronicle the whirlwind way God brought Paul and me together. As our family grew and life changed, it fell lower and lower on the priority list. In this new season, God gave me a new title for the blog and with that, a new focus. Rocked and Anchored, to me, feels like a daily balancing act. A boat who has let its anchor down won't be carried away by each passing wave, but those waves still cause the boat to move in response. Going through this life like a Stepford wife is not my goal; all smiles, no feelings, oblivious to the things of this world. Likewise, being swept away by the fleeting things of this world that threaten to rock my foundation isn't my goal either.

Taking this first step is my goal. Because it is a step on my journey with the Lord.