Positively

There is a lot in the news these days that is positively controversial. I find it a tad tiring hearing about only negative things, I've been thinking about nothing else today. This post is dedicated to the positive in a small corner of the United States.

We have been very blessed with AWESOME neighbors. Our next door neighbors being vietnamese. I love, love, love these people. So much so we refer to them as our roommates, (they speak quite loudly. We can routinely hear them from within our apartment, so much so it almost sounds as if they are in our apartment, which, to be honest, would not be unpleasant). This past weekend I had just popped a pizza in the oven when I heard a know at the door. It was our roommate letting me know that she'd just made dinner for us, home made eggrolls and chow mien. They were delicious! They were given from one of the warmest women I have meet, who is unfailingly kind to myself and my family. To top it off the plates she delivered them on are just beautiful. We don't often see such ornamented plates here. The whole situation just continues to make me smile.

George Laughed for the very first time this weekend! He was a little silly because he was so tired, (it's nice when a baby turns silly from tiredness rather than cranky), and Joe had him propped up on his lap. Joe was patting George's tummy, George had his head leaned back against his dad's knees with his eyes closed and a huge smile on his face. And then it happened, he just let out the sweetest little laugh I've ever heard! And then he did it again. And again. SO special!

I made Pie Crust cookies from a modified Julia Child pastry dough recipe. She is deluxe! I'm well versed in pastry dough recipes. Julia Child's is hands down the best I've found.

I got a text from my younger brother bearing his testimony to me. The kid is amazing! He'll be 17 in October, and he is an example to me. Unfailingly good, he is.

My husband and I sat on the couch and watched two good movies, and read some scriptures. The King's Speech, and Toy Story 3 -- and also from The Book of Revelation. The book of Revelation is wonderful to me! What are my favorite verses you aks (I think I need a speech therapist...)? It's a toss up actually between Chapter 12:10&11, and 21:3-7.

My Little Muffin, and Prayer

I'm sure when George gets older he'll probably be embarrassed by the fact that he's been called a muffin for most of his life. That's really just how nicknames are I guess.

I was looking at my little muffin this morning after I put him down for his morning nap, and felt that quiet that just surrounds him. It inspires me to pray more often than not -- whether or not I heed that prompting is another story entirely. This morning, having a little time, I did. It really made me think about how close he is to God at this phase of life, being so pure. All children are just so special! I'm grateful to have him to help me remember my need to be better. He inspires me to strive to be closer to God and my Savior too.

Another George Birth Birth Story

I've been through many drafts of this birth story, and what I write never quite feels right. I wish I could tell you all what it was like for me to be there in those moments, but I don't have the words.

My water broke about 2:45am. I thought I'd had an accident in bed, but I soon realized that I had not -- which I am still grateful for. It was a wonderful realization that I'd be having my baby soon!

I walked carefully into the bedroom to tell Joe the exciting news. And then we both thought, "What do we do now?" Being in the actual moment is so different than what I'd prepared myself for. We called Paula our midwife to let her know, but since no contractions had started she advised getting more sleep. First Joseph gave me a beautiful blessing (in our church we believe in special prayers of healing, and also of comfort, given by the laying on of hands by worthy men. If your interested in learning more click here). Next I really did try getting more sleep, but the excitement coupled with the sensation of the amniotic fluid draining made it basically impossible. I guess it was about 4 or so when the contractions started, and at that point we decided to just get up and eat something. The contraction built quickly and somewhere between 4 and 7, I ate a little and we called Paula. She and two other midwives were on their way! (Our midwife, Paula, always has more than one midwife present for the births they attend. I LOVED having all of ours there with us -- Paula, Laura, and Caitlin. I love them!)

7am found me kneeling by the toilet trying to throw up what I'd eaten for breakfast. Paula and friends arrived and set up camp in our living room -- and they then proceeded to clean our entire apartment! We'd started filling up the birthing pool prior to their arrival. I was in pain.

At this point things started to roll together. I stopped looking at the clock, so as to not know how time progressed. I tried the birthing pool but felt like a caged animal. I needed to be able to move. Being in labor was a whole sensory experience for me -- I went into my own little place since, though I was acutely aware of everything happening around me, responding to my environment would bring me back to that other place where everyone else was, and I needed to be disconnected. So I simply paced around the apartment where the midwives had wisely dimmed all the lights. The midwives also only whispered, and everything was done in a very quiet manner.

Eventually everyone, Joe included, left me completely and stayed in the bedroom, save the times one midwife would come out to check the baby's heart rate. I remember hearing Joe and the midwives having conversations in the room, and I even remember things I'd wanted to say to them to contribute to the conversations... There was a time when I was pacing in our kitchen, and I noticed that I could see the time on our microwave. Every time I would pace that direction I would push a button to make it so I couldn't see what time it was. But no matter what I did, because I wasn't cooking something, it would automatically go back to showing the time! I was so frustrated by this! It makes me laugh now, I ended up just unplugging the stinking thing.

Time passed, and I continued to pace. I was making about every sound you hear on a farm, other than oinking. Every I don't know how often, Paula would come out and ask if she could check my dilation. At some point to my surprise she told me I was dilated to an 8. I was so close now! Paula asked if she could sit in the corner of the couch in our living room, because I was so close she thought it wise to have someone on hand. She promised she wouldn't speak to me unless it was necessary :) I don't know why I found it so distracting to have others present, I don't know that it really could have made the pain more intense... nevertheless, with every sense in my body so heightened, I retreated from Paula's quiet company, again to the kitchen, and the bathroom. (Our apartment is very small, so it wasn't really very far from the living room.) I remember saying to Paula at some point that day, "Why am I doing this?" She is so wise! She quietly said, "Because it's a good way to bring a baby into the world." Or at one point I said, "Oh Paula, it hurts." She, with so much kindness, said, "I know it does, sweetheart." Each of my midwives have such wonderful spirits!

After a little I ventured back into the living room, and I realized that I was beginning to feel the urge to push, and that I had, unconsciously, been holding it back. It may sound silly, but I asked Paula if it was ok for me to push when I felt the need. She checked me and said there was just a little cervix left, but she went and got everyone out of the bedroom to prepare for that phase.

The midwives covered the floor with chuck pads, and I strayed into that area. As my back was hurting Paula showed Joe how to give counter pressure, which I greatly appreciated! Pretty soon I started pushing, and the rest is history. Just kidding!

I started pushing! Wow, I wasn't quite sure what I was doing. I'm grateful I realized after a few pushes that there was a difference between effective and non-effective pushing. At first I was squatting with a midwife on each arm holding me up when I would bear down. Bless them! I was squeezing their hands so hard! Joe was positioned at my feet so he could see George emerge. Joe was my constant! It was so good to have him there where I could see him. The excitement on his face was such a rush, and it gave me what I needed to hear him tell me he could see more of little George's head with every push. The midwives suggested changing positions, and I could feel George move down quite a bit more after I moved. After a while I thought I was more comfortable squatting, so I again changed positions, and again I felt the little fella move down more after I shifted. After a few pushes in that position Paula told me that she had a strong feeling that I should push in a more sitting position, so I shifted, slowly, so that my back was against the couch and my tail bone was on the floor. Caitlin sat behind me for support -- I think they suggested Joe sit there, but I loved having him where I could see him! I don't know how long I pushed after that (in all it took about 45 minutes or an hour to push George out all the way -- he had a huge head at 14.5 inches around, and then his shoulders were 15 inches... I attribute the length of time it took to push him out to not having torn), but it seemed like just a moment later I could see George's head myself! He was still working his way out, but I could see him! He had such big shoulders Paula gave him a little help by putting her fingers in his armpits and easing him out a little. Joseph then caught him and promptly put him on my chest. I was in my own little heaven for a moment. George didn't cry, he just looked. I know they say babies can't see at that early age, but I can promise you, I know he looked at me and saw me. He is just so beautiful!

Immediately after George was born, my contractions stopped and didn't resume. After trying a few things to get them started again with no success, I was given a shot to jump start them. I'll spare you the details, but in the course of the placenta coming out, it actually pulled my uterus and cervix down! Had it not been for my midwife, who knows what would have happened. Paula reached her hand inside of me to hold things in place. No complications came of it. Everything turned out just amazingly, which I attribute to God, working through these wonderful women to help me. I'm so grateful! If Paula hadn't had the impression to have me sit to birth instead of squat, my uterus may have come out altogether.

George Darnell Marshall was born January 26 at 1:26pm. He weighed in at 9lbs. and was 23 inches long.

Welcome to the world of George Darnell Marshall. This place now belongs to him.

Following is an account of the birth of our firstborn. If you are too bored to read what happens when three midwives assist your non-medicated wife's birth in a one-bedroom apartment, skip down and see the pictures and watch the Youtube vid. I'm including all the details of this remarkable, remarkable event.

Phase One. Baby George decided it was time to break the water balloon he was living in and come out to play, Wednesday, January 26, 2011, at 2:45 in the AM. I got up and made Melissa some eggs at about 3:30, and she called the midwife. At about 4:30, the contractions began. It was a dull roar at first, but by 6:30 they were moving along swiftly. I began to get my true education of why natural birth is so greatly feared in our society. Melissa was amazing. She asked me for a Priesthood blessing, which I gladly gave her. Then Mia, a lovely friend in the Church here, came and picked up little Rico (our happy Chihuahua-Pomeranian puppy) so he'd not be in the way. The midwives arrived at 7:00, and set up shop in our little abode on the second floor. We had a little pool set up, planning to do a water birth, but Melissa decided she felt more comfortable out of the pool for the process and the birth. So she paced, we helped when contractions rose and fell, and eventually she found it was easiest not to be distracted by us but get through the contractions on her own. I have never felt such humility I don't think, waiting for her in the other room with our three truly remarkable midwives, Paula Schnebelt, Laura Stalkr, and Caitlin Kirkham. Melissa always wished to do it this way, though it was somewhat happenstance we did it in our own home. In the end it was definitely the way to go. She had her own space she was familiar with, took her time and was in no rush. Also, these midwives do only home births, and I am so grateful we had them -- couldn't have asked for more capable hands to deliver baby boy George. While they waited for the baby to come, they actually cleaned the apartment, every nook and cranny! Yeah, you should hire them sometime -- no, not for cleaning, that was incidental.

Phase Two. Time had come for delivery, so we all got with her there on the living room floor. Paula, the head midwife, asked me to push with my fist on Melissa's lower back as she pushed back, for support. My right neck, shoulder, arm, and lats are all hugely sore today :). We pushed and pushed -- Melissa considers the birthing almost as difficult as the contractions. It took an hour or so before the crowning began. Before that, we had tried multiple positions to get the baby out, and at a moment when Melissa was squatting on her knees and it looked like it was working and she felt comfortable with it, Paula suddenly said: "Melissa I have a strong feeling that we should go back to attempting the delivery sitting on the ground rather than squatting." She herself did not know what wisdom pushed her to feeling so strongly, but no one questioned her judgment. We continued with her sitting on the ground, her back against the sofa, and little by little the head began showing itself. My eyes bulged. One could see no pigments of skin due to the dark matted layer of dark hair on his little noggin. I smiled pretty wide. The baby's head was also rather large, 14+" around, and the midwife later congratulated Melissa for birthing him with no tearing of any kind. It took quite a while to get the length of the head out, but it went quickly after that, difficult as it still was. I was amazed, am still amazed, at the bravery it took for her to get through all this. I now have a new respect as to why this process has always been labeled "labor" or "travail". Little George emerged in full at 1:26 PM, and I took him by the head and lifted him up. It was remarkable watching my baby exit my wife's body, where he had slumbered for many months, and to assist bringing him so integrally into the world. I took him, smiled real big, and then placed him on his mama's lap and chest. Her transition was as beautiful as anything I may have ever seen. She went from the agonizing pushing (and that from the agonizing contractions) to feeling and seeing her new baby on her lap. "Oh... oh my baby! Oh George!" she exclaimed, sounding almost surprised he was suddenly on the OTHER side of her abdomen. She swiftly pulled him up and wrapped her arms around him. From the start he showed signs of a sizable newborn. This event will ever be marked as one of our lives' greatest.

Phase Three. She kept her arms around him whilst the midwives negotiated the umbilical cord out, followed by the placenta. He sat there so quiet and content this whole time, never crying, just making little noises of cooing and grunts, not yet opening his eyes. Melissa kept bleeding from the placenta coming away the uterine wall. The midwives weren't worried about the loss of blood, but as it came out, it began to pull the cervix and uterus out with it. The baby was on her chest, not yet feeding, as Melissa had to go through one of the most difficult parts of the birth. Paula had encountered this problem only once before, but due to her brilliant intuition she made it unnecessary to go to the hospital. She actually reached her hand up the birth canal, and after feeling around, held the cervix in place where it belonged, even while Melissa had to endure the enormous pain of it. They both sat there a number of minutes, and eventually she pulled back out, confident everything would stay in there if Melissa stayed supine on the floor for a while. It did, staying where it belonged, and the bleeding stopped at that time as well -- wonderful miracles. We later realized that, had Paula not followed her intuition to have Melissa birth while sitting on the ground, and she had birthed squatting, things in that position could have gone badly. I attribute as much to Paula and God for their wonderful relationship as I do to our prayers for a safe birth. Melissa sat on the ground for some time after that moment had passed. They handed me the scissors and I clipped the umbilical cord. Then the baby had his first oral feeding, after which they swaddled him up, giving him to me while they checked how things were going inside Melissa. The weather inside was beautiful at that point. I got to hold my little baby boy for the first time. What a great boy, he's just right. And no, he's not as little as I keep calling him -- he's a future lineman for the Utes.

So here we are now, and he's just over a day old. We crashed soon after he was born, and the first night was nothing unpleasant. It was weird waking up rather continuously, but not unpleasant for us. There was a portion of the night when I took the baby and let him sleep on my chest. He had been with Melissa since the beginning, and was making it difficult for her to sleep, due to his adorable cooing and little wiggles. She had had so little sleep the night before and had such an enormous day, that I wanted to give her a break. I don't sleep on my back, but I was really very glad for that time with my boy there on my chest from about 5:30 in the morning. It's sacrifices like these which have always made me feel so very close to Melissa and now with my baby too. So then, thanks everyone for your support and your prayers and your love for us. We hope our experience will inspire other couples to consider birthing at home, because if Melissa can do it, so can they :). Either way, we are so happy, and can't stop staring at our boy and his full head of hair.

Top 10 Reasons I Love Being Pregnant, and Also Jo Dee Messina

Reasons I Love Being Pregnant: (incase you were wondering, this is the Melbi half writing here...)

1. I love feeling that little fella kicking around inside of me. Or, really, rolling around these days. There's not a whole lot of room for kicking in there at present.

2. I love the fact that my midwife told me to eat more! I really love eating...

3. I like the way my clothes look when I get dressed in the morning.

4. I love the way my husband talks into my belly saying such things as, "Hello in there! I want to meet you!"

5. I love the fact that very small children get confused looks on their faces when I accidentally run into them with my protruding stomach... (It's very funny, I can't lie. I was babysitting the other day and the little boy smiled up at me and said, as only a small child can phonological problem and all, "You belly is bewy big..." SO CUTE!)

6. I don't really love this, except that it makes good stories to tell. I find it very funny that all of a sudden men callout to me from their cars when I'm walking down the side walk. Never experienced that before, in some instances it's a little creepy... It's very funny to think back on, though. Pregnancy is obviously a beautifying process.

7. I love that I have an excuse to take 2 1/2 hour naps during the day. I don't really mean to sleep that long, that's just how long it happens to have been when I next wake up... I'll be parting with that luxury with my next child I'm sure.

8. I love that my husband loves my rounding-ness. He is the sweetest of all men.

9. I love my sisters coming up and rubbing my belly as if I were a lamp and a genie will pop out. Oh, I can't say enough how much I have loved this phenomenon! I love my sisters!

10. I love going to see my chiropractor. She is very kind, and loves the miracle of the body and how it functions.

Reasons I love Jo Dee Messina: (I don't really have ten of these... I don't really listen to anything other than hymns and instrumental these days, but I have respect for this woman.)

1. She is very rich/famous, and uses her money to help others. A lot.

2. Her music is very uplifting. Take for example the lyrics to the song "Bring on the Rain" (This is what inspired my thoughts on her today. this song randomly popped into my head). She says about having a bad day, "Tomorrow's another day, and I'm thirsty anyway, so bring on the rain." Love it!

.... .... .... Well... that about sums that one up. I just really appreciate musicians who choose to be uplifting instead of wallowing in the muck. Thanks Jo Dee! (Yes. She and I are on a first name basis...)

Rico's Big Adventure

OK, so some of you wondered just what happened. I'll tell you. Two nights ago, we were down at the laundry room near our apartment. Rico is terrified of that room full of loud machines, so we normally just tie his leash to a pole and he waits at the door and runs around and comes back and waits at the door, etc. For our second trip down, we decided to take him down off the leash. When we go for a walk, we always have him off now. He stays close but is too cute when he bolts ahead and runs around in circles to resist. We may risk a ticket, but as long as my wife is present, I know we would never get one -- probly just a warning :). So he just sat at the door like always while we changed the loads -- I checked on him every minute. Then after we both changed a different load (takes a while -- the washers are SMALL!), I checked again and right, no Rico. He sticks pretty close to us, even when not in sight, so I walked the perimeter calling for him. Still no Rico. Walked towards our apartment and in the opposite direction (the laundry room is right in the middle of Village Square Apartments), whistling and calling him. When he hears us, he almost always bolts towards us cause he knows he'll get it if he doesn't. But something was in the air this evening, because he was not returning.

Seemed like nothing, but after ten minutes of looking, we both started wondering. We spread our perimeter, putting out the Rico Alert to whomever we saw. We checked all his favorite places (we walk him the perimeter of the complex frequently, which is a good four square blocks or more in size), and everywhere else on the lot. Dinner was on the stove and getting cold, so we decided to head back home. Before doing so, we drove around the whole place so to check little corners quickly, as well as through our routine walk to the park and surrounding neighborhood which he loves. Still nothing. So we got home and ate, as cool as we could. Melissa comforted me, saying how dogs do this and they always come home -- they can find their way. Her position was annoyed parent, my position was worried parent, because I was not so confident he would return. We decided I would walk to the park to check again, while she waits in the case he returned home. At this point I was very discouraged. I was whistling, but not with as much force as before. When discouragement hits, it seems to take some wind away from your lungs, I guess. During the initial search, I prayed quite a few times for God's help to bring him back to us. I told Melissa I had a strong spiritual sensation, one I don't feel every day, that things were going to be all right. She told me she got the same feeling. That was a comfort. Then at home, I prayed a few times again, and then it hit me that repetitive desperate prayers are not going to help anything. They could possibly act as a kind of placation to one's paranoia, but God heard me the first time, and he never says in the scriptures we need to ask repetitively for what we need -- just asks that we ask. So I decided to stop praying and start doing something.

While searching, things got quite introspective in my mind. I started wondering if this was God, giving me a taste of fatherhood and the kind of responsibility I'll need to have in that time, and was using a dramatic example to drive it home. Melissa and I were both blaming ourselves for not getting the leash in the first place, and that burden was weighing heavy. I felt all the standard parental emotions -- mostly worried sick that he was cold and scared somewhere, or dognapped. We weren't worried about him being hit by a car -- he knows to stay on the sidewalk. We were more worried about an adorable unaccompanied puppy being scooped up by a random passersby. I told God I would take it if that was his plan, but that it wasn't necessary -- that I'm actually very good normally at taking responsibility for the things and people I care about, and I'll be better yet. I got home with no puppy in arms, and Melissa and I were both very sad. So we sat down and watched game show bloopers for a few hours, mostly as a distraction. Rico disappeared at 7:00 pm -- we decided we needed to go out at 10:00 to look some more. We pulled on our shoes and opened the door... and immediately heard footsteps walking up our stairs (outside). Immediately I knew someone had him, and I was right. Two little girls and a mom walked up, one with him in her arms. We were amazed: "Where did you find him?!?" I asked. He leapt into my arms, and started trying to scramble over my shoulder into the house! I held on tight while we chatted with them. I still couldn't believe he came home.

Rico apparently wandered into some area where a random passersby did in fact find him and scoop him up. For anyone who doesn't know him, his love for people is only second to his love for other dogs. I'm guessing he was pretty scared by the time he got lost, and started heckling said passersby for help. Said passersby happened to bring him to the home of a little girl who happened to be present for one of Melissa's Rico Alerts earlier in the evening. She recognized Rico because her friend Jasmine used to walk him for us. But she didn't know where his owners lived. She went over and got Jasmine and they gave him some water and then with her mother they all came to our place. To this moment I'm amazed he fell into the hands of all the right people. There are plenty of persons even in the complex who'd have taken him for themselves. So in finality, it's as I said on Facebook, sometimes God makes no effort to conceal himself.

The Piano

I am currently sitting on the couch listening to a nice gentleman tune Joe's new piano. This event has brought to my mind some unexpected memories from my childhood. My mother owned a very old piano, one of those extremely tall uprights. She took piano lessons from an elderly lady in our ward, but she didn't really practice at home. This brings a smile to my lips as I think of the lovely new family I've been adopted into. As a child it never occurred to me the frustration this sort of student brings to a teacher, but as I've grown I've come to believe, for my mother, these lessons were just a pleasant outing each week.

The sister who taught these lessons is a woman I will never forget. She must have been in her eighties, her name was first Sister Jacobsen. A few years after moving to this ward we noticed a nice elderly gentleman accompanying Sister Jacobsen to church; he doted on her in the loveliest of ways! Soon their engagement was announced, and we were all thrilled for them both. I don't recall what Sister Jacobsen's new married name was, there are many things that I don't remember from those years. I can, however, tell you many things I do remember about this remarkable woman. Sister Jacobsen was a widow. She was our ward organist. She, even in her advancing years, never failed to sign up to take meals around to families/individuals in need in the ward. Sister Jacobsen had two daughters with handicaps that she took care of. She made sure that she and her daughters were at church every week!

What a hero! What an example of enduring to the end; and with a smile! She was always happy. I wonder how she is doing these days? I'm sure where ever she is she is still smiling, and still serving. She doesn't know that I was watching the things that she did for others. I didn't even know until years later. What an example.