Baby Tess Day 2
alec vanderboom
Alcove
Baby Tess Day 1
alec vanderboom
Spiritual Bouquet for Teresa Benjamin
alec vanderboom
Please pray for my little Tess. She got admitted to Children's Hospital in D.C. today. She needs surgery on her small intestine on Tuesday. God is very good. I got her an emergency baptism at our old Hospital with a visiting Nigerian Priest and a Holy Cross Nun as her godmother this afternoon.
You can leave you prayers and offerings for Tess and her family in my comment section. Thank you!
Urgent Prayer Request
alec vanderboom
My baby's jaundice went from mild to super high this morning. I've only got a few more hours of home therapy time left before I need to bring her back into the hospital. Please pray that Baby Tess starts to recover quickly. Thanks!
I'm off to the hospital ER at 7:30 PM to get an eval for admission. Guess we weren't done shining our light there yet!
We're Home!
alec vanderboom
Thanks so much for all of your prayers and blessings!
My husband read all my blog comments to me over the phone while I was alone in my hospital room last night. It was so sweet to receive my aposolate of "cheerful conversation" back from my own blog readers.
Baby and I returned home today around 3 PM.
As always, I wouldn't be a Carmelite if I didn't have at least one final cross to carry from my hospital stay.
They brought me Communion at 10 AM. I had such joy to be able to kneel and receive our Lord. (It's the simple things in life that bring you to tears after child-birth!) It was great to have God, of course, but a timely Eucharist should have been a cue to me that I was going to need supernatural strength to get home.
Baby and I were discharged at 11 AM. We were both completely ready to leave the hospital at 12:01 PM.
However, my nurse couldn't find us a wheel-chair or a wheel-chair chaperone in the entire hospital for the next 2 1/2 hours! For that entire time, I was exactly one elevator ride and one 15 minute taxicab ride away from my home, my husband, and 3 adoring siblings who had set up a surprise "Zero" birthday party for my Tess.
It was hospital policy to refuse to let a new mother walk down the elevator by herself and or carry her newborn baby alone. Both gals MUST exit safely in a wheel-chair pushed by a special chaperone. The hospital had instituted a new, improved wheel-chair delivery system -which clearly was not working today. The entire Maternity Staff, especially the receptionist were beside themselves.
I sat alone in my hospital room with Miss Gorgeous and felt totally helpless. Mr. Benjamin was at home dying from the stress of prolonged separation from his darling girls. He called my room every thirty minutes asking for an update. There was no news to give him. My wheel-chair request had been received, but there was still no time-table on when my wheel-chair would appear.There was nothing he could do, as nothing in his darling 6 foot 5 inch frame counted as either a wheel-chair or as an officially approved wheel-chair chaperone.
As extra penance, I couldn't order lunch because I'd already been checked out of the hospital computer. Of course, you know how hungry breast-feeding a newborn makes you! I was seriously considering handing a complete stranger my credit card in an attempt to get a turkey sandwich from the Starbucks cafe on the hospital's main floor.
At the height of my self-pity, I turned on the TV. Something crazy was happening about six blocks from my hospital room. I'm sure it will hit the national news tonight- a guy, with a gun and/or explosives, held up the Discovery Channel's national office. The emergency news report puts things into perspective. I don't know if my delay was supposed to help with penance for that specific situation, but it suddenly felt like God could have a good reason to ask Tess and I to keep away from our home for a little while longer.
Finally, at 2:45 a lowly Maternity Floor Lab Tech with- a GIANT necklace of Our Lady of Gaudalupe -- got drafted to push me to the elevator with a wheel-chair stolen from NICU. There was only the three of us Mary's girls and lots of luggage, flowers (thanks Jen and Hallie!), a clunky carseat and that silly hospital policy to uphold. We had to put Tess inside her carseat and then put the carseat on top of my lap. A "IT'S A GIRL" balloon bopped the Tech all the way downstairs.
The receptionist cut off the last security band off of Baby Tess and we were finally free. The receptionist talked a mile a minute. Tess was so beautiful. I looked so healthy. I was too tired to do anything but nod. Finally, she asked the dreaded question "So this is number 4. Will you have more?" After days of dodging that question, I finally responded with the complete truth. "It's up to God," I said simply.
The receptionist broke out into a giant smile. "So you might be back! We might see you again?" she shouted. "That's fantastic!"
"Yup, that would be fantastic!" I said. "Next time, however, I'm bringing my own wheel-chair!"
"The Present is the point at which time touches eternity"
alec vanderboom
Hi, everyone! Abby's friend Jen here again. Abby asked me to do a guest post summarizing her birth story. I wasn't able to take notes while we talked, so I hope I got this all right. I'll do my best!
When I talked to Abigail yesterday, she sounded like a different person than she did just a few days before. As you probably know from reading her posts about feeling like she's offending people by breathing or having her childcare arrangements for while she's in the hospital fall through, she was having a tough time leading up to the baby's birth.
But yesterday she sounded joyful. Actually, a better description might be to say that she sounded victorious. The day of her fourth c-section was when the spiritual and metal battle that she'd been fighting for nine months finally came to a head, and the way she handled it was a shining example of how to stay spiritually strong even when you're plunged into a situation that triggers all your anxieties and fears.
"I will bless the Lord either way"
My impression is that the turning point came at 4:00 AM yesterday, the day of her surgery. Abigail woke up and couldn't go back to sleep. She was harassed by those same thoughts that had been plaguing her for days:
The baby's not going to make it.
She's already gone.
You're not going to make it either.
Though she didn't spell this out, it seemed to me that it was at that moment, in the pre-dawn darkness, that she suddenly realized that these thoughts were simply temptations to give in to despair. Every time that she'd indulged them in the past, following the trail of "What-If Worst Case Scenarios", she drifted a little further away from God. But this time she fought back. Her simple response to each of these thoughts was:
I will bless the Lord either way.
Even if all those worries did come to pass, she would still cling to Jesus. She would still thank God for his goodness. That response had a neutralizing effect on those acerbic whispers that had troubled her for so long.
"Let's just try, and leave the outcome up to God"
She and Jon left the apartment a little later than expected, so Abigail figured that they already missed the bus to get to Mass before going to the hospital. Jon suggested that they at least try: maybe they wouldn't be able to make it, but if they didn't at least give it a shot, they weren't even giving God the opportunity to work something out. Sure enough, the bus they needed to take was late, and they arrived at the church just in time.
(Abigail did note that they got a lot of funny looks riding on the bus with her so pregnant and carrying an empty car seat.)
"This is my work"
They called a taxi to get from the church to the hospital, and the skilled driver navigated them around all the rush hour traffic. Abigail got checked in so early that she and Jon were able to say their full morning prayers together in a silent room.
While they waited to be taken into the surgery room, she says she felt waves of panic come over her, but, through prayer, they'd eventually subside. She thought of it like contractions in labor: you have to just push through the intense parts, and know that they'll be followed by rest.
When she faced those moments of anxiety, Jon pointed out that this was her work for today: She was to undergo the surgery to have her long-awaited baby, and unite her suffering with the suffering of Christ on the cross for the salvation of souls. She had a cheerfully resigned tone when she recounted the words she kept repeating to herself as the big moment neared: "This is my work for today!" This was the special task that God had picked out for her, and she'd do her best to embrace it.
"Stay in the now"
Then it was time for her and Jon to separate (he would only be able to return right before the baby was born), and she was led into the freezing, bright operating room, where the arms of the table were spread out Dead Man Walking style. It was tempting to panic. She had so much to fear: the physical pain, her doctors' warnings about the possibility of an emergency hysterectomy, the judgment of the medical staff (who'd already made some comments about this being her fourth c-section), the worry about the recovery, the baby, the money, the size of their apartment.
She clutched her rosary beads as an outward expression of her inner clinging to God. A surgeon's assistant walked in, and she expected that he'd tell her she couldn't keep them; instead, he pointed to them and said, "That's good. Hold on to those."
She defeated the temptation to panic by staying in the "now." The way Abigail described it, it reminded me of a post I recently read by Anna Mitchell where she quoted C.S. Lewis to point out that the future is least like eternity. It's made of unrealities. "For the Present," Lewis writes, "is the point at which time touches eternity."
If I had to choose one theme for the spiritual victory that Abigail wrought that day, it would be that: to stay in the now. Praise the Lord right here, right now. Turn to him with your joys and sorrows and concerns that come from whatever is happening to you at this moment -- not what you fear might happen to you later.
"Our 'extra' baby"
The surgery went great, and the doctor even commented that Abigail was easily in good enough shape to have future c-sections. The joy poured through the phone as she described the moment she and Jon first saw little Teresa. All throughout the pregnancy they'd heard plenty of critical comments about having a baby, especially since they already had three other children. "What's the point?" the society around them seemed to ask. When they looked at the world's newest human being with her little blond curls, they knew the answer.
Abigail will probably take a week or two off as she gets used to life with her new little one. I know she looks forward to updating you soon.
When I talked to Abigail yesterday, she sounded like a different person than she did just a few days before. As you probably know from reading her posts about feeling like she's offending people by breathing or having her childcare arrangements for while she's in the hospital fall through, she was having a tough time leading up to the baby's birth.
But yesterday she sounded joyful. Actually, a better description might be to say that she sounded victorious. The day of her fourth c-section was when the spiritual and metal battle that she'd been fighting for nine months finally came to a head, and the way she handled it was a shining example of how to stay spiritually strong even when you're plunged into a situation that triggers all your anxieties and fears.
"I will bless the Lord either way"
My impression is that the turning point came at 4:00 AM yesterday, the day of her surgery. Abigail woke up and couldn't go back to sleep. She was harassed by those same thoughts that had been plaguing her for days:
The baby's not going to make it.
She's already gone.
You're not going to make it either.
Though she didn't spell this out, it seemed to me that it was at that moment, in the pre-dawn darkness, that she suddenly realized that these thoughts were simply temptations to give in to despair. Every time that she'd indulged them in the past, following the trail of "What-If Worst Case Scenarios", she drifted a little further away from God. But this time she fought back. Her simple response to each of these thoughts was:
I will bless the Lord either way.
Even if all those worries did come to pass, she would still cling to Jesus. She would still thank God for his goodness. That response had a neutralizing effect on those acerbic whispers that had troubled her for so long.
"Let's just try, and leave the outcome up to God"
She and Jon left the apartment a little later than expected, so Abigail figured that they already missed the bus to get to Mass before going to the hospital. Jon suggested that they at least try: maybe they wouldn't be able to make it, but if they didn't at least give it a shot, they weren't even giving God the opportunity to work something out. Sure enough, the bus they needed to take was late, and they arrived at the church just in time.
(Abigail did note that they got a lot of funny looks riding on the bus with her so pregnant and carrying an empty car seat.)
"This is my work"
They called a taxi to get from the church to the hospital, and the skilled driver navigated them around all the rush hour traffic. Abigail got checked in so early that she and Jon were able to say their full morning prayers together in a silent room.
While they waited to be taken into the surgery room, she says she felt waves of panic come over her, but, through prayer, they'd eventually subside. She thought of it like contractions in labor: you have to just push through the intense parts, and know that they'll be followed by rest.
When she faced those moments of anxiety, Jon pointed out that this was her work for today: She was to undergo the surgery to have her long-awaited baby, and unite her suffering with the suffering of Christ on the cross for the salvation of souls. She had a cheerfully resigned tone when she recounted the words she kept repeating to herself as the big moment neared: "This is my work for today!" This was the special task that God had picked out for her, and she'd do her best to embrace it.
"Stay in the now"
Then it was time for her and Jon to separate (he would only be able to return right before the baby was born), and she was led into the freezing, bright operating room, where the arms of the table were spread out Dead Man Walking style. It was tempting to panic. She had so much to fear: the physical pain, her doctors' warnings about the possibility of an emergency hysterectomy, the judgment of the medical staff (who'd already made some comments about this being her fourth c-section), the worry about the recovery, the baby, the money, the size of their apartment.
She clutched her rosary beads as an outward expression of her inner clinging to God. A surgeon's assistant walked in, and she expected that he'd tell her she couldn't keep them; instead, he pointed to them and said, "That's good. Hold on to those."
She defeated the temptation to panic by staying in the "now." The way Abigail described it, it reminded me of a post I recently read by Anna Mitchell where she quoted C.S. Lewis to point out that the future is least like eternity. It's made of unrealities. "For the Present," Lewis writes, "is the point at which time touches eternity."
If I had to choose one theme for the spiritual victory that Abigail wrought that day, it would be that: to stay in the now. Praise the Lord right here, right now. Turn to him with your joys and sorrows and concerns that come from whatever is happening to you at this moment -- not what you fear might happen to you later.
"Our 'extra' baby"
The surgery went great, and the doctor even commented that Abigail was easily in good enough shape to have future c-sections. The joy poured through the phone as she described the moment she and Jon first saw little Teresa. All throughout the pregnancy they'd heard plenty of critical comments about having a baby, especially since they already had three other children. "What's the point?" the society around them seemed to ask. When they looked at the world's newest human being with her little blond curls, they knew the answer.
Abigail will probably take a week or two off as she gets used to life with her new little one. I know she looks forward to updating you soon.
She's here!
alec vanderboom
Abigail's friend Jen Fulwiler here to update you with the joyous news:
Teresa Benjamin came into the world at 11:42am, weighing in at 8 lb. 8 oz. Mom and baby are both doing great -- and Teresa even has little blonde curls!
If you wanted to leave Abigail a note of prayer or encouragement, I know she'd really appreciate it.
Welcome to the world, Teresa!
Teresa Benjamin came into the world at 11:42am, weighing in at 8 lb. 8 oz. Mom and baby are both doing great -- and Teresa even has little blonde curls!
If you wanted to leave Abigail a note of prayer or encouragement, I know she'd really appreciate it.
Welcome to the world, Teresa!
A Slew of Sacraments
alec vanderboom
In the past 12 hours, I've received 3 sacraments: Confession, Communion and the Sacrament of the Sick.
The Sacrament of the Sick was especially sweet. I got blessed by a priest from Romania. (One of the joys of living in Washington D.C. is that we get to hear homilies by the best priests around the whole world at our own regular parish Masses. Priests come to get PhDs at Catholic University and our Archbishop assigns them to celebrate Mass at local parishes on the weekends.)
The Sacristan couldn't find the find the right prayer book, so Jon and I had a lot of time to chat with Father about his experiences growing up as a Roman Catholic under a Communist Regime. His history was so fascinating.
The Sacristan actually never found the book, so I received the majority of this Sacrament in the priest's native Romanian. I'm sure God didn't mind. It will be a funny story to tell my daughter in the future. I'll laugh if she announces one day that she wants to study abroad for a semester in Romania in 20 years.
My Carmelite sisters organized a beautiful prayer session in front of the Blessed Sacrament at 2 pm. The baby hadn't moved all day. As soon as I sat down during Adoration, she started dancing around like crazy. I ended up having to stand for a while in the back because her little kicks were so strong.
This was my first time being blessed by a priest with the new Catholic pregnancy prayers. The prayers were so powerful. I wish I had done this blessing earlier in my pregnancy, because they helped clarify how motherhood is so closely aligned with the Sacrament of Baptism. I now see my pregnancy and the baby's birth as being part of one single thread to the beautiful Sacrament of Baptism.
I highly recommend that all pregnant gals contact their local parish priest and request this new "blessing of pregnant mothers and their babies" as soon as possible. This prayer service (and the graces from the Sacrament of the Sick) greatly relieved most of my anxiety about tomorrow. I was only sad that my husband and my older children didn't celebrate this meaningful blessing with me.
Thanks in advance for all of your prayers!
The Sacrament of the Sick was especially sweet. I got blessed by a priest from Romania. (One of the joys of living in Washington D.C. is that we get to hear homilies by the best priests around the whole world at our own regular parish Masses. Priests come to get PhDs at Catholic University and our Archbishop assigns them to celebrate Mass at local parishes on the weekends.)
The Sacristan couldn't find the find the right prayer book, so Jon and I had a lot of time to chat with Father about his experiences growing up as a Roman Catholic under a Communist Regime. His history was so fascinating.
The Sacristan actually never found the book, so I received the majority of this Sacrament in the priest's native Romanian. I'm sure God didn't mind. It will be a funny story to tell my daughter in the future. I'll laugh if she announces one day that she wants to study abroad for a semester in Romania in 20 years.
My Carmelite sisters organized a beautiful prayer session in front of the Blessed Sacrament at 2 pm. The baby hadn't moved all day. As soon as I sat down during Adoration, she started dancing around like crazy. I ended up having to stand for a while in the back because her little kicks were so strong.
This was my first time being blessed by a priest with the new Catholic pregnancy prayers. The prayers were so powerful. I wish I had done this blessing earlier in my pregnancy, because they helped clarify how motherhood is so closely aligned with the Sacrament of Baptism. I now see my pregnancy and the baby's birth as being part of one single thread to the beautiful Sacrament of Baptism.
I highly recommend that all pregnant gals contact their local parish priest and request this new "blessing of pregnant mothers and their babies" as soon as possible. This prayer service (and the graces from the Sacrament of the Sick) greatly relieved most of my anxiety about tomorrow. I was only sad that my husband and my older children didn't celebrate this meaningful blessing with me.
Thanks in advance for all of your prayers!
38 hours to go
alec vanderboom
My c-section is scheduled for 10:30 AM on Monday morning.
That's like 38 hours away.
I'm making peace with the fact that my long "to do before the baby comes" list is not going to be completed. I hadn't factored in many of the basic requirements such as "make sure that all of the kids fingernails are cut short before bringing a newborn into the house."
Cutting children's fingernails is a long, painful act of penance in my house.
At this rate slow prep rate, I'm going to be lucky to have my hospital bag packed by Monday.
That's like 38 hours away.
I'm making peace with the fact that my long "to do before the baby comes" list is not going to be completed. I hadn't factored in many of the basic requirements such as "make sure that all of the kids fingernails are cut short before bringing a newborn into the house."
Cutting children's fingernails is a long, painful act of penance in my house.
At this rate slow prep rate, I'm going to be lucky to have my hospital bag packed by Monday.
The Moviegoer- "Pressure Cooker"
alec vanderboom
This is an enchanting documentary about an inner-city culinary arts teacher who coaches her public school students to win full college scholarships.
I found the personality of Mrs. Wilma Stephenson to be amazing. She is so tough on all issues related to attitude and discipline! Yet in her heart, she's a softy who buys prom dresses for her poor students. She also PRAYS every single morning for her students. (No wonder her seniors take away almost all the culinary art prize money in the city of Philadelphia each year!)
Even though this documentary focuses on the wonders of "teaching", I watched this film thinking about the wonders "motherhood." Mrs. Stephenson's life in her kitchen is extremely similar to my life as a stay-at-home mother. I felt so affirmed by seeing the results of 41 years spent serving children with both consistent discipline and unconditional love.
Check out the documentary "Pressure Cooker." It's an instant down-load on Netflix. Then catch an update on Mrs. Stephenson by the Rachel Ray show online.
The Friday Round-Up
alec vanderboom
(Or 7 Quick Takes minus 2)
1. 72 hours to go until baby time!
2. This afternoon, I stopped by the hospital to get some blood work done before my surgery on Monday morning. The patient registration person had a funny comment for me. She asked me if this was my first baby. I told her this was number four.
She said "and you're an American? That's so good! In Africa women have 8, 10, 12 babies, no problem. Here in America everyone thinks that more than two children is to much trouble! Very good for you!"
I thought that was so cute that at number 4, I've earned honorary status as an African mother.
3. My baby's Godmother has now become elevated to "totally awesome" status. She drove me and my three restless kids to the hospital for my blood work this afternoon, took us to Burger King so the kids could get some exercise on the indoor playground, bought an heirloom baptism gown for the new baby AND tracked down actual water for the River Jordan for new baby's baptism.
4. While Godmother and I were busy yapping about our Catholic faith, I got to experience our culture's new "anti-boy" sentiments in action. Hannah and Alex started a "girls against boys" chase game with two other 7 year olds on the playground. Alex started screaming in pain after a girl bent his wrist in the wrong directions for several seconds in order "win" the chase game.
I attended my son's injury in complete shock. There was the little girl by my sobbing son. There was no apology or look of concern from either the little girl or her parent. I guess intentional injuries by "older" kids is now considered 'fair play' on a Burger King playground.
Thank heavens it doesn't appear to be a bad sprain. Alex offered up his pain for the "People who make movies to stop making bad Witchcraft ones" and I made sure we said several Hail Mary's at our table to forgive the little girl.
5. Can I just respond to the millions of posts saying "I'm so happy my kids are going back to school." It's a jungle out there. I'm so happy my 1st and 2nd grader and NOT going to back to school next week.
1. 72 hours to go until baby time!
2. This afternoon, I stopped by the hospital to get some blood work done before my surgery on Monday morning. The patient registration person had a funny comment for me. She asked me if this was my first baby. I told her this was number four.
She said "and you're an American? That's so good! In Africa women have 8, 10, 12 babies, no problem. Here in America everyone thinks that more than two children is to much trouble! Very good for you!"
I thought that was so cute that at number 4, I've earned honorary status as an African mother.
3. My baby's Godmother has now become elevated to "totally awesome" status. She drove me and my three restless kids to the hospital for my blood work this afternoon, took us to Burger King so the kids could get some exercise on the indoor playground, bought an heirloom baptism gown for the new baby AND tracked down actual water for the River Jordan for new baby's baptism.
4. While Godmother and I were busy yapping about our Catholic faith, I got to experience our culture's new "anti-boy" sentiments in action. Hannah and Alex started a "girls against boys" chase game with two other 7 year olds on the playground. Alex started screaming in pain after a girl bent his wrist in the wrong directions for several seconds in order "win" the chase game.
I attended my son's injury in complete shock. There was the little girl by my sobbing son. There was no apology or look of concern from either the little girl or her parent. I guess intentional injuries by "older" kids is now considered 'fair play' on a Burger King playground.
Thank heavens it doesn't appear to be a bad sprain. Alex offered up his pain for the "People who make movies to stop making bad Witchcraft ones" and I made sure we said several Hail Mary's at our table to forgive the little girl.
5. Can I just respond to the millions of posts saying "I'm so happy my kids are going back to school." It's a jungle out there. I'm so happy my 1st and 2nd grader and NOT going to back to school next week.
K-LOVE - JJ Heller "Your Hands" LIVE
alec vanderboom
Six Days to Go...
alec vanderboom
My brain is fried. My stomach is sore. Here's a random, wandering update post.
1) Took all 3 kids and myself to the OB's office today. Baby's heartbeat is good. She's already measuring 8 or more pounds at 38 weeks. There are zero signs of an early delivery. So I guess it will be Monday before we meet our girl.
2) My regular doctor was on vacation. This new doctor was kind, but of course had to give me the complete, by the book danger report on having a 4th c-section. I don't know if I'll be this calm during my surgery, but in the OB office today I felt totally calm about the risk of an emergency hysterectomy.
I just felt totally peaceful. If I lose my uterus at age 35, it's okay. It's God's will. I definitely used that body part well. My womb has sheltered 5 souls. I'm simply so, so grateful that I got have another baby after 2 1/2 years of secondary infertility.
3) All the kids in my house have already regressed. It's like I suddenly have twin toddlers and a helpless 4 year old. After a full year of successfully sleeping through the night, both Alex and Maria now come to sleep in our room in the middle of the night. It stinks! Alex knocks over the fan. I have to step over his body to go to the bathroom 20 times in the night. I'm freaking out about adding a newborn to this odd sleeping mix. Jon just jokes that we should start inviting Hannah to spend the night in our room to make night time a true family experience.
4) I've run out of energy to clean. Baby Benjamin could well be brought home to a house with cobwebs, a sticky kitchen floor and thousands of legos stuffed underneath the couch. (It's a sure sign of having a 4th baby when I simply shrug my shoulders and reassure myself "Well, who needs a clean floor? The baby won't be crawling for another 5 months").
5) Another sure sign of baby #4, all of my nesting instincts are directing into getting the rest of the family ready for Mommy to spend hours nursing. Last weekend, I finally set up automatic bill pay on our checking account. I got Jon a new teapot and Hannah a super serious Anatomy coloring book which is actually a Kaplan study guide for Medical Students. (Hours of fun for my science geek and easy home-school lesson plans). I'm ordering some Father Corapi DVDs for my hospital stay.
Meanwhile, I'm going totally minimal on the baby prep. Right now, the new baby only has a few pre-washed clothes, a car seat, and 2 bottles of baby soap in our house. (The baby only really needs a holy, rested, Mama to cuddle her for the first 12 weeks, right?)
6) On Monday, the kind neighbor who was supposed to watch my kids overnight during my 3 day hospital stay, abruptly cancelled. As of this moment, I've got no idea of the "sleeping arrangements" for my kids next week or even if I can have someone watch them during my c-section on Monday. I'm trying to calmly "Wait for the Lord" to direct me on the new babysitter hunt. I promised myself that I wouldn't start to worry about this minor glitch until Friday morning. All things considered, the lack of a car and the lack of a babysitter are very small crosses to take into the excitement of a new birth.
7) I love the Catholic Church! I was getting very nervous about the upcoming c-section. On Saturday, I had a super holy chat with my parish priest during Confession. He told me to focus on how "wonderfully made" I am and how God has blessed our bodies with the ability to heal. It's so helpful to stop fearing the actual surgery and instead focus of the wonderful, physical healing power that Christ extends to a life in grace.
My local Carmelite Sisters are so dear. They are planning a "baby Blessing" ceremony for me with a priest in front of the Blessed Sacrament on Sunday. (The day before my c-section). It sounds elaborate and gorgeous. I'll try to get some good pictures to share with all of you dear readers.
Pray for me!
Also, give me your prayer intentions. I've got lots of suffering to offer up in the coming weeks. You can leave a comment or email me with a private intention.
1) Took all 3 kids and myself to the OB's office today. Baby's heartbeat is good. She's already measuring 8 or more pounds at 38 weeks. There are zero signs of an early delivery. So I guess it will be Monday before we meet our girl.
2) My regular doctor was on vacation. This new doctor was kind, but of course had to give me the complete, by the book danger report on having a 4th c-section. I don't know if I'll be this calm during my surgery, but in the OB office today I felt totally calm about the risk of an emergency hysterectomy.
I just felt totally peaceful. If I lose my uterus at age 35, it's okay. It's God's will. I definitely used that body part well. My womb has sheltered 5 souls. I'm simply so, so grateful that I got have another baby after 2 1/2 years of secondary infertility.
3) All the kids in my house have already regressed. It's like I suddenly have twin toddlers and a helpless 4 year old. After a full year of successfully sleeping through the night, both Alex and Maria now come to sleep in our room in the middle of the night. It stinks! Alex knocks over the fan. I have to step over his body to go to the bathroom 20 times in the night. I'm freaking out about adding a newborn to this odd sleeping mix. Jon just jokes that we should start inviting Hannah to spend the night in our room to make night time a true family experience.
4) I've run out of energy to clean. Baby Benjamin could well be brought home to a house with cobwebs, a sticky kitchen floor and thousands of legos stuffed underneath the couch. (It's a sure sign of having a 4th baby when I simply shrug my shoulders and reassure myself "Well, who needs a clean floor? The baby won't be crawling for another 5 months").
5) Another sure sign of baby #4, all of my nesting instincts are directing into getting the rest of the family ready for Mommy to spend hours nursing. Last weekend, I finally set up automatic bill pay on our checking account. I got Jon a new teapot and Hannah a super serious Anatomy coloring book which is actually a Kaplan study guide for Medical Students. (Hours of fun for my science geek and easy home-school lesson plans). I'm ordering some Father Corapi DVDs for my hospital stay.
Meanwhile, I'm going totally minimal on the baby prep. Right now, the new baby only has a few pre-washed clothes, a car seat, and 2 bottles of baby soap in our house. (The baby only really needs a holy, rested, Mama to cuddle her for the first 12 weeks, right?)
6) On Monday, the kind neighbor who was supposed to watch my kids overnight during my 3 day hospital stay, abruptly cancelled. As of this moment, I've got no idea of the "sleeping arrangements" for my kids next week or even if I can have someone watch them during my c-section on Monday. I'm trying to calmly "Wait for the Lord" to direct me on the new babysitter hunt. I promised myself that I wouldn't start to worry about this minor glitch until Friday morning. All things considered, the lack of a car and the lack of a babysitter are very small crosses to take into the excitement of a new birth.
7) I love the Catholic Church! I was getting very nervous about the upcoming c-section. On Saturday, I had a super holy chat with my parish priest during Confession. He told me to focus on how "wonderfully made" I am and how God has blessed our bodies with the ability to heal. It's so helpful to stop fearing the actual surgery and instead focus of the wonderful, physical healing power that Christ extends to a life in grace.
My local Carmelite Sisters are so dear. They are planning a "baby Blessing" ceremony for me with a priest in front of the Blessed Sacrament on Sunday. (The day before my c-section). It sounds elaborate and gorgeous. I'll try to get some good pictures to share with all of you dear readers.
Pray for me!
Also, give me your prayer intentions. I've got lots of suffering to offer up in the coming weeks. You can leave a comment or email me with a private intention.
Making Peace with Having Enemies
alec vanderboom
During my senior year at Smith College, I served as a Protestant Deacon.
Obviously, the Protestant understanding of "a deacon" differs significantly from the Catholic understanding of that holy role. My job duties consisted mostly of wearing a gigantic gold cross over a black choir robe and passing out bulletins prior to Sunday Services at Helen Hills Chapel. I also read "Protestant Readings" between the Baha'i and Muslim representatives at Inter-denominational Prayer Services, held a student chair on the Alumnae Religious Life Committee, and preached a sermon during my graduation week.
My women's college was intensely secular. At Smith, it was perfectly acceptable to argue that the Gospel of John was actually written by a woman in an Intro to World Religions term paper. The Christian religion was viewed as an oppressive, male-dominated "institution" by most of the campus. My freshman year, the Head of Residential Life made a campus wide policy which forbid students from posting any Christmas "symbols" on our room doors or erecting any Christmas trees in common areas of our dorms.
Even within this anti-Christian environment, I never made any enemies as a Protestant Deacon. I could walk around with a teeny gold cross on a chain for weekdays, and a gigantic gold cross on Sundays, without any cold looks or verbal harassment.
In college, I was careful to toe the line as a "tolerant", "politically correct", inoffensive Christian girl. Christ was "my thing", my way of coping with the onslaught of Senior Year Stress. However, I freely endorsed peoples right to "other things" to relieve stress such as yoga, all liquid diets, fake Buddhist chants, and Margarita parties every Friday night.
Christ was someone I talked about, and Christianity was something I enjoyed "experiencing" on a Sunday morning. Yet Our Savior didn't find fertile soil in my soul to grow a garden of virtues.
Even with a gigantic gold cross on my chest, my life looked similar to every other Senior's life. I approved of fornication and birth control. I worried obsessively about my grades and my L-SAT scores. I gossiped about my classmates and carelessly broke boys' hearts. I could dissect pre-Revolutionary Russian History with ease. But, I was terribly, terribly afraid of intimacy, commitment and motherhood.
At age 25, I entered the Cathedral of Notre Dame in Paris as a broken hearted and confused soul. I recited my first ever Hail Mary, reading the words from an English guidebook that I picked up at the entrance. Mary answered that single prayer in a dramatic fashion. Now I'm here--a married Carmelite who expects her fourth baby in less than 10 days.
I strive to live a life "hidden in Christ." My current world is almost the complete opposite of my college days as the loud-mouth Christian with the flashy gold cross. I stay at home. I don't hold a job. I'm not on any committees. I don't volunteer for any noble Community Service projects. I'm not invited to give "guest" lectures at Women of Prayer lunches or write Op-Ed pieces for my Catholic paper.
I sit at home. I pray. I serve five people in the whole world. Since one of these sweet people actually resides inside my womb at the current moment, I take many naps. I eat vitamins. I cook fish on Fridays. I tell little people to "brush your teeth," "finish your homework," "stop poking your Sister" and "pray before you eat!" many times during the day.
My new "hidden" life has arose the anger of many enemies. There are bus drivers who are instantly offended whenever I enter a bus with my armload of babies. There are nurses who start screaming about my decision to avoid pre-natal testing for Down Syndrome despite the statistics surrounding my advanced maternal age. There are people at Daily Mass who accuse me of praying "too much" and for dragging a "clearly Autistic-looking" five year-old son into Adoration. There are friends who worry about my family being too poor and in-laws who accuse me of being a "free-loader" for not using my law degree. So many people accuse me of "irresponsible parenthood" for having so many babies so close together.
For the first time, I can't rely on my charm and a sweet smile to get me out of sticky situations. My brown scapular is around my neck, my stomach is clearly swelled from pregnancy, and there is no new mini-van parked outside my front door.
Right now, it seems like I offend certain people by simply breathing.
All of this "enemy" stuff profits my soul. My vanity scar is finally shrinking to a manageable size. I know longer instantly second-guess myself whenever I find myself on the end of a cold look or long anti-population growth soliloquy.
Christ promised us that if we follow him, we will have enemies. It's the price of having Our Dear Savior as a friend. The fact that I once called myself a "Christian" without experiencing the world's rejection and ridicule merely means that at one point time, I had no idea of how to be a real friend to God.
Obviously, the Protestant understanding of "a deacon" differs significantly from the Catholic understanding of that holy role. My job duties consisted mostly of wearing a gigantic gold cross over a black choir robe and passing out bulletins prior to Sunday Services at Helen Hills Chapel. I also read "Protestant Readings" between the Baha'i and Muslim representatives at Inter-denominational Prayer Services, held a student chair on the Alumnae Religious Life Committee, and preached a sermon during my graduation week.
My women's college was intensely secular. At Smith, it was perfectly acceptable to argue that the Gospel of John was actually written by a woman in an Intro to World Religions term paper. The Christian religion was viewed as an oppressive, male-dominated "institution" by most of the campus. My freshman year, the Head of Residential Life made a campus wide policy which forbid students from posting any Christmas "symbols" on our room doors or erecting any Christmas trees in common areas of our dorms.
Even within this anti-Christian environment, I never made any enemies as a Protestant Deacon. I could walk around with a teeny gold cross on a chain for weekdays, and a gigantic gold cross on Sundays, without any cold looks or verbal harassment.
In college, I was careful to toe the line as a "tolerant", "politically correct", inoffensive Christian girl. Christ was "my thing", my way of coping with the onslaught of Senior Year Stress. However, I freely endorsed peoples right to "other things" to relieve stress such as yoga, all liquid diets, fake Buddhist chants, and Margarita parties every Friday night.
Christ was someone I talked about, and Christianity was something I enjoyed "experiencing" on a Sunday morning. Yet Our Savior didn't find fertile soil in my soul to grow a garden of virtues.
Even with a gigantic gold cross on my chest, my life looked similar to every other Senior's life. I approved of fornication and birth control. I worried obsessively about my grades and my L-SAT scores. I gossiped about my classmates and carelessly broke boys' hearts. I could dissect pre-Revolutionary Russian History with ease. But, I was terribly, terribly afraid of intimacy, commitment and motherhood.
At age 25, I entered the Cathedral of Notre Dame in Paris as a broken hearted and confused soul. I recited my first ever Hail Mary, reading the words from an English guidebook that I picked up at the entrance. Mary answered that single prayer in a dramatic fashion. Now I'm here--a married Carmelite who expects her fourth baby in less than 10 days.
I strive to live a life "hidden in Christ." My current world is almost the complete opposite of my college days as the loud-mouth Christian with the flashy gold cross. I stay at home. I don't hold a job. I'm not on any committees. I don't volunteer for any noble Community Service projects. I'm not invited to give "guest" lectures at Women of Prayer lunches or write Op-Ed pieces for my Catholic paper.
I sit at home. I pray. I serve five people in the whole world. Since one of these sweet people actually resides inside my womb at the current moment, I take many naps. I eat vitamins. I cook fish on Fridays. I tell little people to "brush your teeth," "finish your homework," "stop poking your Sister" and "pray before you eat!" many times during the day.
My new "hidden" life has arose the anger of many enemies. There are bus drivers who are instantly offended whenever I enter a bus with my armload of babies. There are nurses who start screaming about my decision to avoid pre-natal testing for Down Syndrome despite the statistics surrounding my advanced maternal age. There are people at Daily Mass who accuse me of praying "too much" and for dragging a "clearly Autistic-looking" five year-old son into Adoration. There are friends who worry about my family being too poor and in-laws who accuse me of being a "free-loader" for not using my law degree. So many people accuse me of "irresponsible parenthood" for having so many babies so close together.
For the first time, I can't rely on my charm and a sweet smile to get me out of sticky situations. My brown scapular is around my neck, my stomach is clearly swelled from pregnancy, and there is no new mini-van parked outside my front door.
Right now, it seems like I offend certain people by simply breathing.
All of this "enemy" stuff profits my soul. My vanity scar is finally shrinking to a manageable size. I know longer instantly second-guess myself whenever I find myself on the end of a cold look or long anti-population growth soliloquy.
Christ promised us that if we follow him, we will have enemies. It's the price of having Our Dear Savior as a friend. The fact that I once called myself a "Christian" without experiencing the world's rejection and ridicule merely means that at one point time, I had no idea of how to be a real friend to God.
Ecumenical Play Dates
alec vanderboom
Our favorite neighbors came over for a visit today after three weeks of Baptist Bible Camp. Everyone in the house was overjoyed to see them again.
In the middle of the play date, Hannah and her 10 year old friend, Christian, entered into an earnest theological discussion while playing with our new marble game. It was so funny, I had tears in my eyes listening to them.
Christian would propose a vague Christian truth like "The Devil is bad. He didn't like God or something like that."
Hannah would immediately jump on the topic and spout out all kinds of deep theology such as "The Devil's real name is Lucifer. He once was the most beautiful of all the angels. But he told God "I will not serve you" and then St. Michael kicked him out of heaven. Now we all pray the St. Michael prayer to get the Devil kicked out of earth."
This whole praying to St. Micheal thing was totally new to Christian. He clearly enjoyed the conversation with Hannah, however, and tried to keep up. "What about that Adam and Eve? Why did they have to eat that apple?"
Hannah launched into this deep explanation of temptation, sin and the Devil's role in tempting us to disobey God.
At hearing about sin, Christian, the good Baptist, jumped on the bandwagon again. "Sin is bad! But all you have to do is say your sorry to Jesus. You just need to say sorry and then Jesus fixes everything."
Then my darling daughter, the possible future Nun, jumped off the couch in excitement. She started telling her friend all about the joys of the Sacrament of Confession. Hannah talked a mile a minute about going into the confessional and how the priest acts as Jesus to forgive all of your sins. Then Hannah said "the priest is acting as Jesus when he forgives you. Jesus gives the priest a special power to totally forgive sin. You can't see Jesus when you talk to the priest, but you know he's there. . ."
At which point the throughly confused Christian, a child who has never heard a remote mention of the Sacrament of Confession, latched onto the one statement of Hannah's long speech that he recognizes. "Yes, Jesus is INVISIBLE! We can't see him- AT ALL."
At which point, my Catholic daughter, casually flipped her pony tail and said "Actually, I see Jesus all of the time!"
I'm going to enjoy watching that Hannah evangelize the whole world!
In the middle of the play date, Hannah and her 10 year old friend, Christian, entered into an earnest theological discussion while playing with our new marble game. It was so funny, I had tears in my eyes listening to them.
Christian would propose a vague Christian truth like "The Devil is bad. He didn't like God or something like that."
Hannah would immediately jump on the topic and spout out all kinds of deep theology such as "The Devil's real name is Lucifer. He once was the most beautiful of all the angels. But he told God "I will not serve you" and then St. Michael kicked him out of heaven. Now we all pray the St. Michael prayer to get the Devil kicked out of earth."
This whole praying to St. Micheal thing was totally new to Christian. He clearly enjoyed the conversation with Hannah, however, and tried to keep up. "What about that Adam and Eve? Why did they have to eat that apple?"
Hannah launched into this deep explanation of temptation, sin and the Devil's role in tempting us to disobey God.
At hearing about sin, Christian, the good Baptist, jumped on the bandwagon again. "Sin is bad! But all you have to do is say your sorry to Jesus. You just need to say sorry and then Jesus fixes everything."
Then my darling daughter, the possible future Nun, jumped off the couch in excitement. She started telling her friend all about the joys of the Sacrament of Confession. Hannah talked a mile a minute about going into the confessional and how the priest acts as Jesus to forgive all of your sins. Then Hannah said "the priest is acting as Jesus when he forgives you. Jesus gives the priest a special power to totally forgive sin. You can't see Jesus when you talk to the priest, but you know he's there. . ."
At which point the throughly confused Christian, a child who has never heard a remote mention of the Sacrament of Confession, latched onto the one statement of Hannah's long speech that he recognizes. "Yes, Jesus is INVISIBLE! We can't see him- AT ALL."
At which point, my Catholic daughter, casually flipped her pony tail and said "Actually, I see Jesus all of the time!"
I'm going to enjoy watching that Hannah evangelize the whole world!
Wisdom from Saint Gregory the Great, Pope
alec vanderboom
St. Teresa of Avila used to sleep with a volume of St. Gregory under her pillow. I totally understand. St. Gregory is awesome!
Here's a gem from last Monday's Daily Office:
"Holy men best by tribulation must endure the assaults of those who use violence and verbal attacks. The former they resist with the shield of patience, but against the latter they launch the sharp arrows of true doctrine. . . For they have nothing but patient scorn for the enemy who moves against them, but they sympathize with their weaker fellows and bring them back to the safe way."
(From the Moral Reflections on Job)
I love those powerful images-- "the shield of patience" and "patient scorn". Whenever someone is mean to me I can now picture using the virtue of patience as a "shield" to protect me.
"Patient scorn" seems like such an odd juxtaposition. Patience and scorn. It's deep. I'm still wondering how to better apply "patient scorn" to my enemies in my daily life.
Here's a gem from last Monday's Daily Office:
"Holy men best by tribulation must endure the assaults of those who use violence and verbal attacks. The former they resist with the shield of patience, but against the latter they launch the sharp arrows of true doctrine. . . For they have nothing but patient scorn for the enemy who moves against them, but they sympathize with their weaker fellows and bring them back to the safe way."
(From the Moral Reflections on Job)
I love those powerful images-- "the shield of patience" and "patient scorn". Whenever someone is mean to me I can now picture using the virtue of patience as a "shield" to protect me.
"Patient scorn" seems like such an odd juxtaposition. Patience and scorn. It's deep. I'm still wondering how to better apply "patient scorn" to my enemies in my daily life.
Jon's New Prayer Quote
alec vanderboom
My 7 year old lost both her front teeth this week!
She was "helped" along by her brother's misplaced foot during a friendly game of sibling leg wrestling on Mama's bed. Yesterday morning passed in a great drama of blood, tears, and frantic calls to Daddy, a former army medic. (Why does the bloody stuff always have to happen on my watch?)
One of Hannah's front teeth came out immediately after the leg wrestling match. The other tooth hung on stubbornly by one thick thread for the next 32 hours. Hannah said her tooth was too sore to pull or wiggle. My poor girl couldn't eat well or talk normally.
It was a great opportunity for penance. Hannah happily offered up her sore tooth for the first hour. Then the injury lost it's novelty and a stream of constant complaints began. It was a long day for me.
When Jon came home from work, he dealt with Hannah's refusal to pray (or to help loosen the sore tooth on her own by wiggling it) in about 10 seconds.
"Hannah," Jon said firmly. "God doesn't answer to complaints. He only answers petitions!
I've got to keep that quote around for the painful days after my c-section next week!
She was "helped" along by her brother's misplaced foot during a friendly game of sibling leg wrestling on Mama's bed. Yesterday morning passed in a great drama of blood, tears, and frantic calls to Daddy, a former army medic. (Why does the bloody stuff always have to happen on my watch?)
One of Hannah's front teeth came out immediately after the leg wrestling match. The other tooth hung on stubbornly by one thick thread for the next 32 hours. Hannah said her tooth was too sore to pull or wiggle. My poor girl couldn't eat well or talk normally.
It was a great opportunity for penance. Hannah happily offered up her sore tooth for the first hour. Then the injury lost it's novelty and a stream of constant complaints began. It was a long day for me.
When Jon came home from work, he dealt with Hannah's refusal to pray (or to help loosen the sore tooth on her own by wiggling it) in about 10 seconds.
"Hannah," Jon said firmly. "God doesn't answer to complaints. He only answers petitions!
I've got to keep that quote around for the painful days after my c-section next week!
Catholic nun commercial
alec vanderboom
Go Religious!
You Might be 8 1/2 Months Pregnant If . . .
alec vanderboom
Your three year old says "I want to be the Mama" during your playtime with her doll house. She immediately says "I'm tired. I want to take a nap" and places the Mama doll on a bed. You then notice sheepishly that the Mama doll NEVER reappears during your daughters entire 30 minute imaginative role-play drama.
That's me, right now- the non-moving lump on the couch.
That's me, right now- the non-moving lump on the couch.
The Feast of the Assumption
alec vanderboom
"The Feast of the Assumption is for days when the rent is due, when the baby is crying, and its raining outside."
"This Feast reminds us of the bigger picture. One day God will reward all of our hidden earthly sacrifice with a crown in heaven, just as He honored Our Blessed Mother."
Homily at St. Mary's Church, Feast of the Assumption 2010
"This Feast reminds us of the bigger picture. One day God will reward all of our hidden earthly sacrifice with a crown in heaven, just as He honored Our Blessed Mother."
Homily at St. Mary's Church, Feast of the Assumption 2010