it's beginning to look a lot like Christmas

My Christmas and birthday gifts arrived on Anderson's birthday this year--a new camera with new lenses. I am SO excited. I decided to test the camera out (ie--start learning how to use the thing) one night this week, so I took photos of some of our Christmas decorations. I have had some requests that I take photos of all of the decorations and explain how I did various things, and maybe, just maybe, I will do that in the next few days. For now, this is all I can manage to do.

twelve years and counting

Happy birthday to my precious Anderson. I would say it just seems like yesterday that he was born, but honestly, it doesn't. It may not seem like yesterday that he was born, but I remember that day as if it were.

I had been in the hospital for exactly one week by the time I was induced on Monday morning at 9 am on November 30th. I had been taken to Cary Wake Hospital (known as Western Wake at the time) in the wee morning hours on November 23rd after days of being in tremendous pain, with irregular contractions and a leg, groin and back that hurt so bad I thought I may not survive the pain. My left leg was swelling (eventually, it was twice the size of my other leg, at least) and was discolored. I went to the doctor's office on Friday where I even asked them if I might have a blood clot because I had read in What To Expect When You Are Expecting that my symptoms may be symptoms of a blood clot. Dr. Vulgaropolis, one of my ob's, asked me to flex my left foot, and since that exercise caused no pain, they said the swelling must be typical pregnancy edema. They thought I was in early labor and would be in that weekend to deliver.

So, on Saturday morning, with the pain as intense as ever and contractions becoming more regular, I went to Rex Hospital to be evaluated. At the time, Western Wake Hospital could not care for pre-term babies, and since I was 36 weeks gestation, they referred me to Rex. Rex kept me for observation, determined that I was not dilating enough to admit, and sent me home.

Finally, on Monday morning around 3 or 4 am, Paul and my mother literally carried me into the closest hospital, Western Wake, because I could no longer walk. I could not even stand up straight. I was shaking uncontrollably because of the pain. All of this prompted Paul to take my father's advice as we entered the hospital which was to tell the staff that Paul had a gun and that I wasn't going home again unless a medical professional went with me. We were done with the run around with doctors and nurses who continually missed the signs of what was really going on with me. (Yes, Paul actually told them that. No, he wasn't sent to jail.)

On Monday the 23rd at 6 am an ultasound technician diagnosed me with deep vein thrombosis, also known as DVT. My iliac vein was being pressed by my uterus and a low-positioned baby causing a massive blood clot to form in my deep vein from my abdomen down to the back of my left knee. I was immediately put on bed rest (I was not even allowed to go to the restroom in anything other than a bedpan) and transferred to Rex Hospital where Anderson could receive the care he needed should my contractions not cease. I was given an IV of heparin to combat the clot, pain medication (I think it was morphine), and a medication to stop my contractions which caused a rapid heart rate (which made no sense to me...did they really want my heart to pump blood through my body at a faster rate?). And I was given a lot of grave looks by those who knew better than I did what was going on inside my body.

That is until Dr. Lemuel Yerby walked into my room that afternoon at Rex. He was a vein specialist with a reassuringly calm and warm spirit that was referred to me by my obstetricians. He carefully explained what was wrong with me and how they would treat me. He asked if I had questions, and he answered them thoroughly and honestly. I remember asking him what would happen if the clot broke off and entered my lungs or heart (the iliac vein leads directly there). He said, "You can get very sick, and you can die." But here's what he did that took all of that growing fear and began to dispel it. He looked me straight in my eyes, he patted my leg gently, and he said this: But YOU are going to be just fine." It wasn't just hope that I felt he was giving me. He was making a declaration. A war had ensued against me, against Anderson, and we would have to fight. As for Dr. Yerby, whether he was aware of it or not, he was verbalizing a declaration of faith--of eventual victory--on our behalf.

For one week I endured total bedrest, for the most part. Let's face it, I'm not the greatest rule follower in the world, and one can only poop in a bedpan once without deciding they will never do it again. Once I discovered that I could temporarily unplug my IV, I started making bathroom trips when no staff was watching.

My obstetricians decided on the 28th that I should be induced after seven days of treatment were complete. At the time, it was believed that after seven days of heparin therapy, a patient with a blood clot was considered to be highly unlikely of suffering a deadly clot breakage. So, around 11 pm on Sunday night, the 29th, a cervical balloon was inserted to start the dilation process. I cramped and ached and wondered again how I would survive an entire night of intense pain. I finally took a sleeping pill and had my family pray for me and found sweet relief in a deep sleep.

The next morning, an IV of pitocin was administered around 9 am. I now refer to pitocin as "hell in an IV" because, frankly, I could not imagine that anything could actually be worse. Pitocin made me feel like my uterus cramped up for a long eight hours without relenting. And that pain triggered all the pain in my leg and groin. I remember grabbing the bed mattress as hard as I could and asking how long it would be until I could get an epidural. The nurse's response? You have to have the blood thinner out of your system for six hours before your blood clotting time can even be tested to see if an epidural is even possible. If your blood isn't clotting normally at that point, an epidural cannot be administered due to bleeding risks in the spine which can cause paralysis or death.

I lay in the bed and insisted that Paul and my mother, the two family members I invited into the birthing room, be completely silent. All I could do was pray. And moan. And cry.

Around 3:30 pm, I found the sweetest relief in the form of an epidural--God's gift to women to give us some form of escape from the "curse". To say I was relieved is a tremendous understatement. I felt rejuvenated, even excited.

Just before 4 pm, Anderson became distressed. His heart rate was slowing to dangerous rates. Dr. Mulvaney, the doctor on call, came into the room to evaluate. I was only dilated to 8 cm, but I felt the need to push, and Anderson was now in serious trouble. An emergency c-section was not a good option for me because of the blood clots, needing to be on blood thinner, etc. It was a precarious situation to say the least. People don't believe me when I say that Dr. Mulvaney said this, but he did. He shook his head and said, "I am too old for this."

What happened next can only be attributed to the grace and strength of God that was manifesting in me as a waiting room full of friends and family--prayer warriors--prayed for Anderson and me. I looked at the doctor and said, "I can push him out. If you help me, I can push him out." He must have checked my cervix again, thought I don't remember that, but without hesitation, he said, "Okay."

Just three pushes later, at 4:11 pm, along with some help from a suction machine and a big, strong Jamaican doctor, the most handsome cone-shaped-headed boy was born. He was laid on my chest for a moment, the color blue instead of pink. But he was breathing, and barely crying. I shook him gently and said, "Cry, baby, cry." The nurses took him and began thumping his foot, and within a few minutes I heard the most beautiful sound I had ever heard--a screaming baby.

We did not know what gender Anderson was until the nurse announced, in the midst of the chaos of his birth, "Aww....I think I see something." She did! It was--for sure--a BOY.

I wish I could describe the joy I felt when I first touched Anderson. I can still feel what he felt like--so warm and tiny and delicate and beautiful. I mean, this kid had the longest head you have ever seen thanks to his positioning in my womb and a traumatic delivery. But he was absolutely GORGEOUS. Needless to say, he wore a hat continuously that first week of his life.

Looking back, I marvel at God's goodness and protection over us. I know the enemy had come to "steal, kill and destroy". Maybe another day I will blog about the countless friends and strangers who came to our side to join us in prayer during this time of great fear and uncertainty, or about how God healed me. God was and is so faithful.

So today marks the anniversary of the day that Anderson Logan Brewer entered the world and the day that God brought great victory to the Brewers. Truly, we have a lot to celebrate.

Happy birthday, dearest Anderson. You are a joy, a treasure, an answered prayer, a hope fulfilled, a miracle. For twelve years, you have graced our lives with such love and joy that I cannot even adequately describe it in words. Thank you for being the human being that you are and for making our job about as easy as it can be. We love you, son.

Mom

conception from a four-year-old's perspective

Well, hell has not frozen over, but I have indeed blogged three times in the last 48 hours. Wonders never cease.

I wanted to record the conversation we just had with Bennett so that I wouldn't forget it. There are some things your children ask and say that you just never want to forget. The following is Bennett's inquisition on how he was conceived. Don't worry. It is a G-rated conversation, entirely appropriate for a four-year old.

Bennett: How did my get into your tummy? (By the way--Bennett still uses the word "my" for "I" in most cases, in spite of Paul's efforts to change this.)

Anderson: (giggling)

Me: God put you there.

Bennett: But how did God put me there.

Paul: He plants a seed.

Anderson: (giggling louder)

Me: Anderson--shhh. We prayed and asked for a baby, and God gave you to us. He created you in my tummy.

Bennett: Was my invisible?

Me: Yes, your spirit was invisible when you entered my tummy.

Bennett: AGH!!!!! Then my am a witch!?!?!?!?

Paul: What? Why would you think you were a witch?

Bennett: Because my can disappear. Like the witch on The Wizard of Oz.

my body needs a cookie

I neglected to mention in my previous post that I am thankful that we actually had THREE Thanksgiving meals this holiday season.

Ava Michelle was traveling to Ecuador for her school break, so Candice and Jordan hosted a Thanksgiving meal at their house on Wednesday, the week before Thanksgiving, so that AM could have a proper Thanksgiving feast before she left. They graciously invited Paul's parents, Paul, the boys, and me over to celebrate. It was a delicious meal in a warm, inviting home. (Sidenote--thank God Jordan married Candice. His bachelor pad has been beautifully transformed into an actual home.)

On the Tuesday before Thanksgiving, my sisters and I and our families gathered at Mom and Dad's for another delicious meal. Mom prepared the turkey, dressing and ham, and we girls brought the sides. Another thing I am thankful for? That my family can COOK. :) Good food!

Then on Thanksgiving day, we traveled to Greensboro to eat more turkey, a Honey Baked ham, stuffing, mashed potatoes, sweet potato casserole, broccoli casserole, string bean casserole, corn casserole (yes, there is a casserole theme here), cranberry salad, yeast rolls, pumpkin pie, pecan pie, cheese cake, and chocolate chip peanut butter cookies.

Although I consider myself a fairly health-conscious eater, I throw every consideration of fat, calories, sugar, cholesterol, etc. out the window for holidays. So suffice it to say that I, along with all of my boys, ate all we wanted at each of these meals. And then some.

And then Anderson's birthday party was Friday (a good time worthy of another post), so we ate pizza and chocolate-chocolate cake a la "Aunt Stacy". And who could say no to THAT? Not me.

So, I am now in a self-imposed sugar, fat, and salt detox. No, I guess it is more accurate to say that I am just backing off over-indulgence this week, giving my body a break. But I may be the only one. Bennett, for example, is still on a sugar kick. Last night I made a lasagna, salad, and cookies to take to our neighbors (her father just passed away from cancer), and Bennett smelled the cookies. He came down and licked the mixing spoons, but that is all I would allow. He returned upstairs while they were baking, snuggled up to his daddy (knowing I had already said "no cookies"), and this is what he said:

"I want a cookie."

Paul's response, "It is too late for a cookie, buddy."

Bennett's voice transforms into a higher pitched whine, he stretches his body out, writhing a bit as if in pain, and pitifully says, "But my body needs a cookie. Really bad. It does. My body needs a cookie."

Paul wasn't convinced.

So Bennett is now on a mom-imposed sugar detox for today. Well, for at least this morning anyway. :)

As for me, I guess I will be off the sugar for a few more days. I drove carpool this morning, so I did have a non-fat latte with aritificial sweetener, but my tummy is still rumbling a bit. I think my body needs a cookie.

a bad but grateful blogger

So, I have not done a great job staying on top of this blog. It isn't at all surprising to me considering I often feel I hardly have time to live my life, much less write about it. I feel I have a lot more perseverance than inspiration when life is moving at such a fast pace. But thankfully, Thanksgiving break has arrived, and I have had time to pause and think and reflect and...well, being that it is THANKSgiving...be thankful.

Today, NC State had a chance to play for the ACC Championship next weekend in Charlotte. All we had to do was beat Maryland. We came out of the gates ready to play, scoring in our first two possessions with the score 14-0 in the first quarter. I'll spare you the details (and my mind from remembering them), but we lost. And so, NC State's season ends at 8-4. Sure, we'll get a bowl game, but we hadn't won the ACC Championship since 1979. It would have been great to have a shot at that again. Anyway--my point. When the game ended, Anderson was very disappointed. Trying to put things into proper perspective and relieve his heartache, my response to him was this: In the grand scheme of things, this is just a game--a game that will be forgotten. We have so much to be thankful for--we have each other, we have our health, we have a beautiful home and a wonderful life.

Sure, it was a speech that many parents give their children. And yes, I could have recited it without a lot of thought. Only I didn't. Maybe I needed to hear those words more than he did--our life is BLESSED. Beyond measure. And while I can easily fret over silly things like the game or the fact that I haven't, for example, stayed on top of this blog like I want to, the truth is I am exquisitely blessed. And I am so incredibly grateful to God for reminding me that a heart of gratitude is the only way to keep a proper perspective in the midst of disappointment.

This Thanksgiving weekend, I give thanks--for my God who has loved me way more than I have ever deserved and Who has given me more than I could have even dreamed for myself; for my husband who, though I occasionally do want to ring his sweet little neck, is the most amazing and loving husband and father, whose integrity and honesty are rare and precious, whose strong work ethic has reaped us great rewards, and who really loves me in spite of myself; for my children who are truly more amazing than I ever dreamed they would be and who really love me and remind me that true love never dies and always forgives; for my parents and sisters who first taught me what love and family are really meant to be--loyal, faithful, honest, and merciful; for the family I married into who is so much like the family I was born into that loving them and maybe just as importantly--liking them--is effortless; and for my dear, close friends who are the most understanding, loving, faithful, kind, supportive, and loyal people one could ever know. Really. Saying I am "blessed" feels like the understatement of the century.

Who knows when I will blog again? Hopefully soon? But I won't hold myself to it. I'll get to it when I get to it, and if I don't have an expectation for myself, I am less likely to be disappointed. But even if I am, I am cognizant of the way to overcome it.

Gratitude.

like mother, like son

I often say that Bennett is so much like me, and sometimes that isn't really a compliment. He has my determination, strong will, drive, ability to "communicate", competitive nature, outgoing personality and love of performing and achieving, all which can work in his favor. Or not.


I love those traits when they produce pleasant results. You know, like when his determination keeps him working at a skill until he has achieved it; when his strong will won't let him back down from failure until he achieves success; when he is driven to learn new things; when he can communicate his feelings effectively so that others can understand; when he gives 100% while playing a game because he likes to win.


But these powers can be used for good or for evil, like when his determination and strong will lead to disobedience; or when his communication skills keep him from filtering and he becomes disrespectful or downright ugly; when his competitive nature urges him to argue that he is taller or older than children who are clearly taller or older than he is. And sometimes we overachievers fall into the trap of thinking we are what we do--that if we "can't get it right", then we are miserable failures unworthy of love and acceptance.


It is a balancing act for us as parents--trying to teach our children that they are not of this world, that they are a part of God's kingdom where NO performance is necessary to obtain love, favor, or acceptance because any branch that clings to a vine WILL naturally produce fruit, and love, favor and acceptance are all a part of an unearned inheritance freely given to us. But, at the same time, we are teaching them to live IN this world, where there is a world's system that often works contrary to Jesus' teachings. They WILL have to perform to make it through school. They WILL have to perform to get into college. They WILL have to perform to get a job. You get my drift....


So yesterday, I got yet another glimpse of how much Bennett really is like his mother. When I went to kindergarten, I already knew how to read and write very well. A kindergarten classmate still teases me to this day about the fact that I used to sit in the teacher's big rocking chair with the class at my feet and read to them on a regular basis so that my teacher could avoid doing her job. Anyway, when I asked my mom recently why I knew how to do those things she replied, "Because you wanted to learn, so you did." I remember being so eager and excited about learning and knowing how to do new things. And I see this in Bennett, which does excite me a little because Anderson was quite the opposite at this age, preferring sports and gross motor development over writing, cutting, drawing, coloring, pasting, etc. It was so difficult to get Anderson intersted in schoolwork at all that I marvel that he is now a very intelligent sixth grader who loves to read and is a very good writer.


Anyway, back to my story...


Yesterday evening, Bennett decides he wants to write his name. I sit with him to do it because he can't remember how to write e's sometimes unless I walk him through it. He must have started his name 4 times, and if he made a mistake on his e's, he insisted on starting over. A little perfectionism? Yep. I recognize that trait, too.


Finally, he wrote his whole name, by himself. The only help he got from me was the reassurance he was doing things correctly. He couldn't have been prouder of his achievement. He smiled from ear to ear. I wish I had a picture of his face when he was done. I don't.


But I do have a picture of his work. Check it out. Not bad for a four-year old newby, right? :) His letters are in order and on a fairly straight line. Like my OCD mother, I admire that straight, neat, orderly style.





So for those moments I have wanted to yank my hair out (or his) during a battle of wills or when his mouth gets him in trouble (as mine always did...and still does), I cherish moments like these when he is an enthusiastic and fun learner, or when he snuggles me at nap time and says, "You are my best Mom", or when he sings a made-up song about how much he loves me, and when I walk in the door and he runs to me with open arms for big hugs. Those wonderful moments far, far, far outweigh the difficult ones, and for that I am grateful. And still sane.

mountain bound

I have always fancied myself a true "beach person"--warm weather, sunny skies, a beautiful and refreshing ocean to dip into, and sand between my toes--I love it all. But I have discovered in recent years that the mountains have begun to lure me, and being in the mountains in the fall may be every bit as enjoyable as being at the beach in the summer. It is still a bit shocking for me that I have begun to feel this way. But I have.

Last weekend, we made a last-minute trip to Blowing Rock, North Carolina to see the fall foliage and to give my boys their first taste of the mountains. We learned that the leaves were becoming vibrantly red, orange, and gold, and we wanted to see them. Plus, we had never taken the boys to Tweetsie Railroad, so we wanted to take them there before it closes for the winter.

We left around 9 am last Sunday morning and arrived in Boone around noon for lunch. After lunch, we headed over to Tweetsie Railroad, a small theme park in the mountains at Blowing Rock that features a three mile ride on an historic steam engine. During the ride, the train pauses for shows put on by "cowboy and Indian" actors. Paul and I both enjoyed Tweetsie Railroad as children, so being back there again brought back such wonderful memories for us both.

The boys had so much fun at Tweetsie. They loved riding the trains (the steam engine and a smaller one), the ski lift, the airplanes and helicopter ride, the tilt-a-whirl, the Drop Zone, the Tornado, the ferris wheel, the go carts, and the kiddie boats. Bennett especially loved flying in his own airplane at least five different times, and Anderson rode the Drop Zone ride at least six times. They also loved playing in the arcade, visiting the Deer Park (a petting zoo with goats, deer, pigs, llamas, etc.), and visiting the gift shops.

After spending several hours at Tweetsie, we left to check into our hotel. Paul was very dear and booked us a room at The Chetola Resort (www.chetola.com) because he knows that a clean hotel with nice amenities makes his wife incredibly happy. The Chetola Resort is set on a mountainside with Chetola Lake below. Our room had a stunning view of this lake with a backdrop of trees and their rich golden leaves. We were a short walk from downtown Blowing Rock which may be have one of the most charming streets I have ever seen! I really want to return soon just to visit all of the shops there.

Monday morning we went to Grandfather Mountain (www.grandfather.com). Unfortunately for us, it rained the entire day, so when we ventured onto the Blue Ridge Parkway, our views were obscured by dense fog and steady rain. We still drove up to the entrance of Grandfather Mountain's park, and the drive there was very enjoyable (though a bit nauseating with all of the curves) because the golden leaves draped the narrow, winding roads.

After our trip up the mountain, we descended to a town called Valle Crucis that Paul and I had visited on a trip there years ago. There is a store there called Mast General Store (which now has several locations--www.mastgeneralstore.com). Since 1883, the Mast family ran this store until selling it a few decades ago. During its early years, the family tried to carry all of the items their neighbors might need - from plows to cloth and "Cradles to Caskets," which led to the popular saying, "If you can't buy it here, you don't need it." Today, the store is on the national register of historic places as an example of an old country store. It still offers a wide variety of products. The boys' favorite section of this store is the candy section. There are literally barrels and barrels and crates and boxes of various candies. Each person takes a basket and picks out the candy they like best. All four of us chose our candies, then we headed upstairs to the toys section. The toys are a real throw-back as you can find all of the toys our parents played with as kids--from paddles with the attached balls to pick-up sticks to old-fashioned cars and aiplanes. We then stopped by the old-fashioned coca cola cooler to pick out our own bottled sodas to enjoy.

I think I may have had tears in my eyes most of our time in the store because it made me miss my grandparents terribly. Everything there reminded me of them--from the soda bottles to the games they used to give us each Christmas to the candy selection. Even the way the old floors creaked evoked memories of Grandpa taking me to an old country store outside of Troy, NC where he would buy me a pack of M&M's and a bottled coke. And the chocolate stars in the candy bins reminded of the my Granddaddy who would buy me those treats at the Belk candy counter every time we went to North Hills Mall.

We left Mast General Store for Greensboro where we stopped and spent a few hours with Paul and Ava (Paul's parents, in case you didn't know) and to cut our trip in half. It was nice to relax there by the fire and eat some delicious Brunswick Stew and to rest up before we drove the last leg of our trip.

Ahhhh.....the mountains of North Carolina. I want to go back! And we will.....a ski trip this winter is in the works. Can't wait!!!

more at jockey's ridge

more jockey's ridge photos

wright bros & jockey's ridge photos