So, we made a special order for a cabinet from the Home Depot about a month ago. We paid enough for it to expect decent treatment, but first, it took a month for them to deliver it. Second, a box turned up missing. A $400 box. When I called them about it, they said the delivery was signed for, so it's not their problem. I told them we received a delivery, yes, but a box was missing. They basically said, "Sorry, you signed for it." Seriously? Do companies actually operate like this? I paid $400 for an item that I have not received, and you're just going to say, "Your problem, not mine."
If only I were a newspaper columnist who could threaten bad publicity. =D The thought makes me grin with mischief. I could probably get my way pretty quickly and easily if I had that job.
Alas, I am reminded that we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against principalities, powers, and princes of the dark places (like Home Depot.) So, I'll pray about it before I go give them a piece of my mind.
I'm about the business of raising godly children. So far, God has blessed us with six of them! My husband owns his own business, and I'm fortunate enough to stay at home with the kiddos. If you're looking for deep philosophy on this blog, you're out of luck. If you'd prefer random tales of childhood tomfoolery, stick around!
Friday, September 17, 2010
Monday, September 13, 2010
Big decisions
Here's the big news: We have decided to have a homebirth.
I'm thrilled about the opportunity, and here's why: I've had some very normal births with some very offensive hospital policies and practices. With the exception of the twins' birth, all my births could have been accomplished at home. I know every birth is different, and that's why we spent much time in prayer about the decision.
With Saja's birth in North Carolina, a midwife delivered her in a hospital. I had told her how desperately I wanted to avoid an epidural because of the statistical connection between epidurals and c-sections in first births, and she actually talked me out of it when the pain became so unbearable. She offered Stadol, which took the edge off the contractions, and also allowed me to walk around at the end of my labor to finish off dilation.
Also during this birth, I heard, "Push! Push! Push!" until I actually pushed, and then, for the first time ever, I heard, "Stop pushing!" What? Since when do they tell a woman delivering a child to STOP pushing? I thought I must have heard wrong--I was on drugs, after all, so I ignored her. She caught Saja bare-handed, and I ended up with stitches. So that's why she said, "Stop pushing!"
During my second child's birth, I had moved to the Memphis area where midwives do not deliver in hospitals. I chose a single-doctor practice and gave him my very conservative birth plan, to which he reacted favorably. I started labor two weeks early and spent the majority of my labor at home, walking around the block or around the house for hours, eating grapes and drinking orange juice for energy, and bouncing on the birthing ball.
When the contractions became more unmanageable, we headed to the hospital, where they told me I was 9 cm. They loaded up my room with medical students without my consent, laid me out flat on a bed, and watched in disappointment as my contractions slowed down. I asked to walk around, and they told me no. I asked to bounce on the ball, and they said, "You're in the best position to have this baby." (What they meant was, "You're in the best position for US when you have this baby." No midwife would tell you that lying flat on your back is the best way to get a baby to descend and deliver.)
Finally, the last straw broke when Tanya, the nurse from the hot place, told me my fever "was cooking the baby" and I would probably need a c-section so I should just suck it up and get an epidural now. She proceeded to move to the foot of the bed (the business end of things, if you will) and gossip with the doctor about which nurses were shacking up with which doctors. I am not kidding. I thought I would punch her. They made everyone leave for the epidural except my doula, my mom, and my husband. Kora was born about 10 minutes after the epidural.
During my third child's birth at the same hospital with the same doctor, I also labored at home. When we arrived at the hospital, they refused to let my husband come back to triage with me because of the "Safe Haven" policy, where they ask if a woman has been abused. I told them at registration I wanted to waive that right and have my husband by my side the whole time. They said no.
I obeyed, went to triage alone, and when they saw how far along I was, they moved into high speed. I asked time and again for my husband, and it took them 45 minutes to comply. By that time, I had asked to forego the IV without medical indication, and they basically said that I had to have one, or they would make me leave. Seriously? I'm 9 cm and you're going to make me have the child in the lobby?? Whatever. But when Chris finally got back there, the nurses had blown two IV sticks, and he was so angry he was shaking. I still have nerve pinges occasionally from that blown attempt.
Finally, the doctor came into the room in a terrible mood, broke my water without asking or telling me he was doing it, and then turned on the television and turned around to watch it while I was pushing. I never felt the sensation to push with any of these children. They told me to push, and I did, and I burst capillaries in my eyes because of it.
The twins' birth went fine because I did it the way the hospitals and doctors wanted. I came in with mild contractions at 2 or 3 cm. They gave me an IV and pitocin. I lay in bed for 6 hours with no progress. They broke my water. I had an epidural. Three hours later, Tobias and Tyler were born. This was the first time I felt the pushing sensation, because the doctor wasn't in the room yet, and they were yelling, "Don't push!" (I obeyed this time!) It was a fine experience, and I have no complaints, except that the hospital charged us for an extra day in the nursery because Tobias was born at 11:59pm. He wasn't even IN the nursery until the next day, but they went ahead and got their $1500 because they could. Also, they made me choose only one person to stay in the room during the epidural, because it was hospital policy. How amusing that it wasn't hospital policy two years prior!
After all that complaining, I do want to reiterate that I appreciate doctors and hospitals, because they do save lives, both of mothers and babies, when medical intervention is necessary. It just seems that in many cases, doctors and hospitals do things that are most convenient for them, not for the patient. I'm excited about the opportunity to have a medical attendant at my birth who is most concerned about what is best for me and my baby, not for their building or their schedule. (My doctor with the twins had 13 c-sections scheduled for the day. That's why she broke my water at 9pm instead of earlier.)
We feel like God has led us in this direction and will continue praying for a safe, healthy, easy delivery and an encouraging story for families everywhere who have the same desires for themselves as we do.
I'm thrilled about the opportunity, and here's why: I've had some very normal births with some very offensive hospital policies and practices. With the exception of the twins' birth, all my births could have been accomplished at home. I know every birth is different, and that's why we spent much time in prayer about the decision.
With Saja's birth in North Carolina, a midwife delivered her in a hospital. I had told her how desperately I wanted to avoid an epidural because of the statistical connection between epidurals and c-sections in first births, and she actually talked me out of it when the pain became so unbearable. She offered Stadol, which took the edge off the contractions, and also allowed me to walk around at the end of my labor to finish off dilation.
Also during this birth, I heard, "Push! Push! Push!" until I actually pushed, and then, for the first time ever, I heard, "Stop pushing!" What? Since when do they tell a woman delivering a child to STOP pushing? I thought I must have heard wrong--I was on drugs, after all, so I ignored her. She caught Saja bare-handed, and I ended up with stitches. So that's why she said, "Stop pushing!"
During my second child's birth, I had moved to the Memphis area where midwives do not deliver in hospitals. I chose a single-doctor practice and gave him my very conservative birth plan, to which he reacted favorably. I started labor two weeks early and spent the majority of my labor at home, walking around the block or around the house for hours, eating grapes and drinking orange juice for energy, and bouncing on the birthing ball.
When the contractions became more unmanageable, we headed to the hospital, where they told me I was 9 cm. They loaded up my room with medical students without my consent, laid me out flat on a bed, and watched in disappointment as my contractions slowed down. I asked to walk around, and they told me no. I asked to bounce on the ball, and they said, "You're in the best position to have this baby." (What they meant was, "You're in the best position for US when you have this baby." No midwife would tell you that lying flat on your back is the best way to get a baby to descend and deliver.)
Finally, the last straw broke when Tanya, the nurse from the hot place, told me my fever "was cooking the baby" and I would probably need a c-section so I should just suck it up and get an epidural now. She proceeded to move to the foot of the bed (the business end of things, if you will) and gossip with the doctor about which nurses were shacking up with which doctors. I am not kidding. I thought I would punch her. They made everyone leave for the epidural except my doula, my mom, and my husband. Kora was born about 10 minutes after the epidural.
During my third child's birth at the same hospital with the same doctor, I also labored at home. When we arrived at the hospital, they refused to let my husband come back to triage with me because of the "Safe Haven" policy, where they ask if a woman has been abused. I told them at registration I wanted to waive that right and have my husband by my side the whole time. They said no.
I obeyed, went to triage alone, and when they saw how far along I was, they moved into high speed. I asked time and again for my husband, and it took them 45 minutes to comply. By that time, I had asked to forego the IV without medical indication, and they basically said that I had to have one, or they would make me leave. Seriously? I'm 9 cm and you're going to make me have the child in the lobby?? Whatever. But when Chris finally got back there, the nurses had blown two IV sticks, and he was so angry he was shaking. I still have nerve pinges occasionally from that blown attempt.
Finally, the doctor came into the room in a terrible mood, broke my water without asking or telling me he was doing it, and then turned on the television and turned around to watch it while I was pushing. I never felt the sensation to push with any of these children. They told me to push, and I did, and I burst capillaries in my eyes because of it.
The twins' birth went fine because I did it the way the hospitals and doctors wanted. I came in with mild contractions at 2 or 3 cm. They gave me an IV and pitocin. I lay in bed for 6 hours with no progress. They broke my water. I had an epidural. Three hours later, Tobias and Tyler were born. This was the first time I felt the pushing sensation, because the doctor wasn't in the room yet, and they were yelling, "Don't push!" (I obeyed this time!) It was a fine experience, and I have no complaints, except that the hospital charged us for an extra day in the nursery because Tobias was born at 11:59pm. He wasn't even IN the nursery until the next day, but they went ahead and got their $1500 because they could. Also, they made me choose only one person to stay in the room during the epidural, because it was hospital policy. How amusing that it wasn't hospital policy two years prior!
After all that complaining, I do want to reiterate that I appreciate doctors and hospitals, because they do save lives, both of mothers and babies, when medical intervention is necessary. It just seems that in many cases, doctors and hospitals do things that are most convenient for them, not for the patient. I'm excited about the opportunity to have a medical attendant at my birth who is most concerned about what is best for me and my baby, not for their building or their schedule. (My doctor with the twins had 13 c-sections scheduled for the day. That's why she broke my water at 9pm instead of earlier.)
We feel like God has led us in this direction and will continue praying for a safe, healthy, easy delivery and an encouraging story for families everywhere who have the same desires for themselves as we do.
Saturday, September 11, 2010
Attached to the old
Today, I sold a beat-up old dresser with a fold-down desktop on Craigslist. I was proud of myself for getting the $20 back that we put into it last year when we bought it for the girls' room. Since we're moving into a furnished house, we don't need all our furniture, and I am thrilled that the girls will have a matching four-poster cherry bedroom suite. They're old enough to enjoy it and to keep it nice.
However, when Chris dragged the dresser out into the living room, Saja caught wind of our intentions. She kissed her dresser good-bye and then broke into tears. I had no idea she was so attached to it!
It is missing a handle. The fold-down desktop is no longer attached. The knob needs to be replaced. The drawers don't stop, but frequently fall out on the floor, scattering her clothes everywhere! A tic-tac-toe game is inscribed on one side of it. (I don't know if that's their doing or not. We did buy it used.)
Yet Saja refused any comfort from the one who snatched her most beloved treasure from her bedroom and sold it (to a missionary, none-the-less.) No amount of begging, reasoning, or bribing could stop the tears. I, against my better judgment, offered to buy her a brand spankin' new one for her birthday.
She said, "I don't want a new one. I don't even want one just like it. I want THAT one."
Her mood improved after I showed her a picture of a similar dresser that she would have in her room in our new home that even matched her bedroom suite. And Kora prayed at lunch that Saja wouldn't have a bad mood all day long.
The point is, it struck me how often we can do that exact same thing with the Lord Jesus. Perhaps he may want to offer us a brand, new dresser that has all its handles and pieces and never spills, but we tend to hang on to the familiar, regardless of its flaws and faults. It could be your job, your role in your family, your friends, how you spend your time, or even your attitude.
In the end, I told Saja, "I am the mom, and I get to make the decisions." In truth, God is waiting for us to make the decision to let go of that which displeases Him and embrace the fullness of the riches of His grace that He has awaiting us.
However, when Chris dragged the dresser out into the living room, Saja caught wind of our intentions. She kissed her dresser good-bye and then broke into tears. I had no idea she was so attached to it!
It is missing a handle. The fold-down desktop is no longer attached. The knob needs to be replaced. The drawers don't stop, but frequently fall out on the floor, scattering her clothes everywhere! A tic-tac-toe game is inscribed on one side of it. (I don't know if that's their doing or not. We did buy it used.)
Yet Saja refused any comfort from the one who snatched her most beloved treasure from her bedroom and sold it (to a missionary, none-the-less.) No amount of begging, reasoning, or bribing could stop the tears. I, against my better judgment, offered to buy her a brand spankin' new one for her birthday.
She said, "I don't want a new one. I don't even want one just like it. I want THAT one."
Her mood improved after I showed her a picture of a similar dresser that she would have in her room in our new home that even matched her bedroom suite. And Kora prayed at lunch that Saja wouldn't have a bad mood all day long.
The point is, it struck me how often we can do that exact same thing with the Lord Jesus. Perhaps he may want to offer us a brand, new dresser that has all its handles and pieces and never spills, but we tend to hang on to the familiar, regardless of its flaws and faults. It could be your job, your role in your family, your friends, how you spend your time, or even your attitude.
In the end, I told Saja, "I am the mom, and I get to make the decisions." In truth, God is waiting for us to make the decision to let go of that which displeases Him and embrace the fullness of the riches of His grace that He has awaiting us.
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