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I became Catholic at Easter.

It was…awesome.  Honestly no other word works.

I love the Catholic faith.

Love it.

And I want to dive more into why I love it so much.

But tonight I’m writing about where I part ways with the Church.  It is about birth control, but not in the most conventional sense.  I actually agree almost fully with the churches teaching on birth control.  I think that the vast majority of married couples should be open to life.  I desperately wish I could be open to life…but I can’t.

My pregnancy almost killed me and my baby.  If I would get pregnant again, the chances would be worse for me and for my baby.

And I would gladly give my life for any of my children.  No question.

But, I will not give my life for the children that are not yet here.  Not yet conceived.  I won’t risk it.  The three children I have need a mother.  And I won’t risk leaving them.

I hope that at some point the Catholic church grants a dispensation to women like me who would likely die in subsequent pregnancies.  We are not sinning.  We are protecting our families.


Adventures in a Semi-Crunchy sitcom

This post is full of WAY TO MUCH INFORMATION.  It talks about poop and menstruation.  Not for the faint of heart people.

We aren’t quite all the way crunchy in our house.  I mean, I’ll be using some “greased lightening” to clean my stove top later today.

But we eat a far healthier diet than most Americans do.  My kids like veggies a lot.  We drink raw milk.  We vaccinate on a delayed schedule.  I cloth diaper.  I usually use baking soda and vinegar to clean things.  Lots of hippie crap.

And today I got my period.  Which I was super excited about every since I saw my friend Danielle’s moldy tampon on her blog, then a wide variety of news agencies picked it up.  After the moldy tampon I decided to go the diva cup route.

Diva cups are little cups that you put up your hoo ha and it catches all your fluid then you pour it out and catch some more until you are all done.

Those things are quite the adventure for the first time user.

It was easy to get it and secured.  So that was good.  And then I had to poo.  And I went and couldn’t feel it anymore and was super sad because I thought it fell into the toilet.  And I was *not* digging to find it.  And even if I did, I could *never* put that in my hoo ha again.

Okay whatever.  But my gut was telling me just wait before you put in a tampon.  I was hoping that my flow would be light enough that I could drag the kids to the hippie market and buy another one this morning.  I had to go to the bathroom again and noticed I was still clean.

That damn cup is now way UP there and I’m terrified I won’t be able to get it out.  And the very last thing I want to do is have to go to the ER to get a diva cup removed.  Seriously.  That is the *last* thing I want to do today.

Life in a semi-cruncy sitcom.  Ugh

Moving on

This is a weird point in our lives for us. The flyboy just got orders to stay at the same base for three more years. This is a good thing and we are happy about it.

But our friends in the navy are all moving away! They have all gotten orders to other bases around the country. We are feeling….aloneish? It is weird to say goodbye to so many people. Our world here is small. The flyboy and I are both introverts. But the people that we have spent the last three years living and working with are moving to the next station. Many will be back. Some won’t.

And for us this is by far the longest we’ve ever been someplace. We are feeling a tiny bit restless as we realize that we are used to moving on at this point. That was our norm for most of our lives. Wonderlust is a bit killer sometimes.

How not to be a douche #2

Don’t walk across my lawn, then tell me to “build a fucking sidewalk” when I tell you to move…in front of my kids.


I had a friend visit us the past couple of days

She is another gentle mama.

It was beautiful and rewarding to visit with her.

Her kids match mine in age and gender….very well.  I wish she wasn’t three hours away, I would be very interested to see how our families grew together.

One of the biggest struggles in attachment parent…nee in Christian attachment parenting is the lack of families in the United States who parent in similar ways.  Sadly most protestants who take their faith seriously also hit their children.  They are under some delusion that Jesus is cool with that.  It seems they must be assuming that when Jesus said “let the little children come” it was for a spanking with a wooden spoon or paint stirrer.

I love the interwebz.

It connected me with people who make me a better person.  And that is cool.

My friends baby….very sensitive, be warned

Seriously, this is sensitive…If you are an emotional person who can’t handle stories of pregnancy/child loss go away.  I don’t want to put you through this.

My friends baby died in the second trimester of her pregnancy.  Her wanted and planned pregnancy.  He died.  She had to labor and deliver a dead baby.

“That Sucks” doesn’t begin to cover it.  It is more like “that is one of the most horrifying things that could happen to a person”

I was there with her.

She called me when I was at the park at a playdate with two of my friends.  Both were actually pregnant at the time, which I didn’t realize until right now.

She, my friend, was finding out the gender.  And she was looking at the ultrasound screen, and it wasn’t moving…no heartbeat.  No little limbs moving around.  Nothing.  I don’t know beyond that but she called me right away.

One day when I was pregnant, and before I got really sick, I called her at my wits end.  I was so tired, and so overwhelmed, and the flyboy was of course gone.  I didn’t know how on earth I was going to make it.  She came to me, and brought me chocolate, and gave me the chance to unwind.  I should have napped, but I didn’t.  I laid in my bed and was playing on the internet the whole time she was here watching my children.  I relaxed for the first time in the 17 weeks that I had been pregnant.  I doubt she knows how highly I value that day…It was one of the kindest things any person has ever done for me.  I can’t imagine ever forgetting it.  It was truly, and completely, what Jesus would have done for me in that moment.  Do you understand what it is like to actually see Jesus in a person who loves you.  To see Jesus give patience and kindness, and Joy!  True JOY! to bless you.  I will never.  Ever.  Ever. forget it.  It is in the top days of my entire life.  This simple act of kindness ranks up there with the day I really truly understood the sacrifice that Jesus made for me….the day that I married my husband….the days that my children were born.

And the women I was with took care of my kids.  My husband was thankfully home and was able to help too.

And I went to the hospital to be with my dear dear friend.

I will never forget a moment of it, though rather ironically the details aren’t super clear.

I’m making some of this about me, because damnit I was a part of it.  I’m allowed to have some serious emotions about what went on that terrible day.

This woman…who is truly one of the most kind women I know.  Who oozes the love of Jesus.  She was facing her third miscarriage, but this wasn’t any old miscarriage, this was the passing of a baby that was supposed to be.  Aren’t we told that we are safe once we are in our second trimester.

He should have made it.  It isn’t right that he didn’t.  It is horribly awful and a cruel price of the trick that the Enemy played on Eve.  There are fewer greater pains than birthing a still baby.

She called me.  I found care for my older children and took my nursling to the hospital.  He was a gem the whole time, and provided a beautiful and welcome blessing in the midst of a horrific tragedy.

I first found her sitting at the admitting desk.  She was sarcastic and light…typical of people of our energy type.  Dealing with things full on right away is sometimes tough.  No tears.  Sarcastically stoic….is that possible.  It was that day.  But despite the stoic front she looked shockingly small sitting in a wheelchair in front of the admitting station.  This was where I had visited so often when I was pregnant with stealthy….but I was pregnant, I knew he was there…This was her last stop, at only 19 weeks.  It was surreal.  Like a painting I wasn’t supposed to be a part of.  Perhaps a beautiful piece of china with a terrible chip and gash in it.  It shouldn’t have been real.  It was.

Oh it was real.

The thing about his woman…about this whole family…they love Jesus.  It isn’t in a small or petty way.  She could easily be earning a six figure income…but she isn’t.  Because they believe in the gospel so much that they have truly forsaken the love of money to share the Good News.  But not only with the world, but the three….nee four children, that God has entrusted them with.  I’m so obsessed with money, in a bad way, though I didn’t realize it until I met this amazing family.  They live their lives in a way that makes you realize your sinful nature without ever having to say a word.   Can you imagine….really truly imagine…what that must be like?  To know people who so humble show the heart of Jesus that you are convicted to live a better life by just knowing them.  Truly they are an amazing family.

But for some reason, God has allowed some tragedies to enter their lives.  And my heart breaks knowing they already struggle.  People like this shouldn’t be struggling.  They should be first in line, always.

But her baby had died.  Probably around 15 or 16 weeks.  The baby that she was so excited to hold.

We went back to the room that they had for her.  I guess I didn’t notice until hours later, but there was a little picture the hospital staff had placed on the door.  Leaves with a single raindrop.  The one that God Heard was that very raindrop.  Perhaps a teardrop.  Perhaps…..

We were terribly irreverent in the hours that followed.  Never toward God, never.  But we watched the Honeybadger on youtube.  We made insensitive jokes.  We actually laughed a lot.  Her sister joined us.

Then all of a sudden the mood changed.  Stealthy went to sleep and we all realized it was time to quiet ourselves and pull close to the Savior…

We cried.

And the lights were dim.

And the strongest, kindest woman I’ve ever known delivered her second son and her husband had his third son.

And this baby had died weeks before.

And his little body was there with us.  And his soul was resting with Jesus.

And frankly….I think we all wished we were with Jesus.  It was truly hellish.  I can’t even begin to imagine what it must have been like for my dear friend.

I can’t imagine.

I don’t want to.

But I find myself doing it.

The most wonderful people I know held their son, and prayed over him, and sobbed over him.  He was supposed to nurse, to play with their kids, to grow up and marry and have children of his own.  But he didn’t.  He was luckier I guess, the little Helper man is with his Savior.  Despite the amazing earthly parents he would have had, his heavenly father is far better.

But it is hard to see.

And I don’t understand at all.  I have faith it went the right way…but I don’t understand it.

It doesn’t fit in my understanding of right and wrong.

His sisters miss him.  His brother would have been his best friend.  And someday those relationships will be restored.  But it isn’t what God wants for us.

And on a selfish note I miss this little man.  My kids are the same ages as these children, save six months.  It is such a fun match.  But this little Helper would have been such a fun little addition.  I’m sure the bigger girls would have doted on him, and I’m sure the boys would have become good friends with him in time.  I miss him.  He was supposed to be a part of my extended family, my kids family….And he still is, but oh I wanted to see him play.

He was due this week.

I miss him.

I can’t begin to imagine how his parents feel.

So strange

When I look at Stealthy I see someone who looks like me, and his daddy, and my mom.  The my mom one is the weirdest part, as I refuse to believe I look like her.

And he is real.

But I look at my bigger two and I see myself, and their daddy, and my mom, and my grandma, and the people who shaped us.  But it looks different.

The bigger kids look exactly like their birthmom.  It is almost uncanny.  The weirdest part is…they look like their dad and I and Stealthy too.  I’ve seen pictures scrolling across my screen saver and wondered if they are Berry-boy or Stealthy.  I honestly can’t tell the difference sometimes.

And I know people mean well….but I hate hearing how “God arranged” that all our kids looked alike. Did God have nothing to do with the woman down the street who adopted a black child out of the foster care system….or my friend who adopted her son from Ethiopia.

It pisses me off.

I don’t know if my kids ended up with me because of Gods will, or the fallen world we live in, or a combo of both…..

All I know…and this is so off topic of the rest of my post it doesn’t even matter….I miss my big kids birth mom….

I can’t even begin to imagine how they must feel.