Welcoming our Rainbow Baby

 On September 7, 2019, I woke up realizing that I hadn’t slept very well. I remembered waking up probably 6-7 times in the night with a serious contraction that I had to breathe through. I wasn’t due until September 19. I never felt like they were close enough to time or worry about it being the real thing, but I knew that they were prelabor contractions and they were doing their job.

Around 3 or 3:30 pm I started having somewhat regular contractions, about every 10-15 minutes. Again, they were intense and required my focus, but I wasn’t convinced anything was really happening. My cousin brought her baby over for me to watch at 4, with the plan of picking her up around 6. I didn’t mind and was glad to help (especially as she has watched our kids quite a few times), but the contractions took enough focus I was definitely looking forward to her coming to get her so I could go relax in a hot bath. I made myself eat a little dinner, but didn’t want to move far from my current position sitting on the couch as every shift brought a contraction. At 5 I texted my midwife, Valerie, and told her that I was having contractions, and had been up in the night with them as well, but wasn’t really sure that it meant anything today. She told me that she had just delivered two babies within the last 12 hours, and was super tired. She was still helping clean up from the second birth, and we both “decided” that I should wait to have my baby until the next day. He, however, had different plans. She told me that she was in my town from that birth and would be for a couple more hours, and asked me to keep her updated.

Around 6 my cousin showed up to take her little one, and, while I was glad to see them, I was relieved when I had the house to myself to be able to go take a bath and rest. Valerie had told me that false labor usually stops or slows down if you eat and take a hot bath, so that was my hope. I didn’t mind having a baby that day, but I did NOT want to go through hours and hours of false labor if I could help it.

As soon as they left I drew a bath and got in gratefully. Michael and our 4 year old son started getting the birth pool set up just in case, and our 2 year old daughter came in the bathroom with me to keep her busy. Every contraction I had to focus with all my strength on relaxing. I would picture a lighthouse (which the Lord had told me would be the symbol of that birth), take deep breaths, and my daughter would reach out and take my hand. I started asking her to say a scripture for me, and with each contraction, her sweet voice would fill me with peace; “Trust in the Lord with all thy heart, and lean not on thy own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy path.” I loved hearing this reminder of my favorite scripture and the peace that comes from leaning on the Lord. I had some soft hymns playing on my phone, which was a nice touch. I think it was soon after getting in the tub that I had my bloody show, and was pretty sure we were having a baby that night. I just figured it was still going to be a long time.

At 7:15 I texted Valerie again to tell her that contractions were strong and a regular 10 minutes apart. Michael was still trying to get the birth pool set up. The liner we had was not the correct one, and so it was nearly impossible to get on. He had the pool inflated, but couldn’t fill it until the liner worked. Between contractions I giggled at poor Michael getting one side on solidly, asking our son to hold it down, and then pulling on the other side. Every time I saw our little guy start inching his way up the pool, pulled by his daddy’s strength on the other side. I knew it was getting really frustrating though, so between contractions I jumped out and helped Michael get it on. Even with two adults it was hard, but we had the prompting to deflate the pool a little, put it on, and then re-inflate. It worked, and back into the warm bathtub I went.

What happened next is rather blurry. So much happened in so short a time that I don’t know if the order is all right in my head. My contractions still seemed to be about every 10 minutes, and while they were intense, I thought they were early labor contractions still. They hurt, but mostly were just a strong force, and as long as I relaxed I got through them fine. Michael was trying to get the kids in bed, as well as the tub filled, and I was eager for him to be done so he could come be with me. I knew he was getting spread thin with so many things to do, but I really just wanted him. Contractions were getting harder, and I no longer had my little daughter acting as doula. We had to get a good amount (I think it was 4-6 inches?) of cold water into the birth pool before we could add the hot, so that it wouldn’t melt the pool. I wanted out of my bathtub so badly! It was just so hard and didn’t have enough room. It was hard to relax in it.

I had been texting my mom through this, and at one point she asked (if I had the chance) if I could let her know when we texted Valerie. I texted back that we just had, and when she was confused, I tried to call her. On the first ring I realized that a contraction was coming, so I hung up. She called right back, and I remember being aware of the phone sitting next to me vibrating during that contraction, which for some reason was a bit amusing to me. She hung up after a couple of rings, realizing what was probably going on. As soon as the contraction was over, I called her back. We chatted, I told her what was going on, and I told her that even though it was feeling very serious, I thought it may still be a while because I was so cheerful and talkative between contractions, and aware even during. She didn’t tell me at the time, but she knew that wasn’t likely. I told her I had to go because a contraction was coming. I thought it was a 10 minute call, but looking back at the call logs it was only 5 minutes, so my contractions were getting a lot closer.

I think around 7:30 or so, I had a contraction that felt like it would feel a lot better if I just pushed a bit. That was odd, as with my other kids I had ZERO choice in the matter. My body just started pushing. But this time it was a mostly-conscious choice. I pushed a bit and it felt right. Michael yelled from the other room, asking if that was what it sounded like, and I told him yes, I was pushing a little, but just because it felt good. He came running in and grabbed my phone to call Valerie. I remember that he was so busy and flustered (trying to do 20 things at once to help me), that I offered to talk to her. So I told her what was going on, and she said she was on her way.

About the second or third contraction that I pushed a bit, I felt my water break, and figured baby was coming sooner than we thought. It was about 7:40. We texted Valerie, and apparently after seeing that she figured she wouldn’t make it. She still was hurrying, but told me later that when an experienced mom has been having contractions and then her water breaks, there is usually not much time left at all!

Looking at this on paper it looks like it was hours, but poor Michael was still trying to fill the tub and get the kids in bed. At 7:45 I heard the front door open, and Valerie came running in. She heard the pushing noises and knew baby was coming SOON. She asked me where Michael was, and I told her he was getting the kids in bed. She said, “He is not going to want to miss this!” and went running out to find him. I remember thinking that was funny. I knew I was quite close since I was pushing, but I didn’t think I was THAT close. Thankfully, the kids were FINALLY in bed, and they both came back in. I told them between contractions that I really wanted out of the bathtub, and into the birth tub, but it still wasn’t ready, and Valerie doubted there would be time. She told me I could do a land birth if I wanted. I don’t remember if I just laughed at her, or said, “WHY would I do that?” or what… I just know that a land birth was never an option.

They kept filling the tub in the hopes that there would be time. I could feel our baby’s head really low, but really wanted into the tub. After a while they said that the tub was ready if I cared enough to get in it. I did. I immediately got up, walked over, and, with support to get over the high ledge, finally got into the tub at 7:50 (I told you this was a lot in a short period of time!). It was sweet relief, as it always is for me. Soft, cushioned, and relaxing. The warm water finally covering my cold belly, and the bottom and sides of the tub perfect for kneeling, leaning and laying on. I felt like I could finally have my baby, though I hadn’t been consciously holding anything back before.

Contractions kept feeling better with pushing, and although I was conscious about pushing, and I still was choosing it, I don’t know if I could have not pushed. It still felt different from with the other babies though. It was like my body was forcing me to push, rather than my body pushing like it had with the others. I was mostly on my hands and knees at this point, leaning my arms and head against the edge of the pool. Michael held my hands, talked gently, smoothed my forehead, and helped me to feel calm. Suddenly I was SOOOO tired. I could hardly hold my head up, and kept saying that I just wanted to sleep. I giggled that I was so tired when I’d only really been in labor for about 4 hours, and had no right to be so exhausted. Valerie told me it was just the hormones making me tired, and that it was okay, I’d get a chance to rest soon.

I started to push and felt his head trying to crown. My biggest fear was tearing, and I was really trying to be relaxed and slow so that wouldn’t happen. I remember telling Michael (calmly) that I was scared. He told me it was okay, and that I was in control. That didn’t sit right with me, and I corrected him, “No, the Lord is in control, and that’s why it will be okay.” He agreed with me, and I kept trying to focus on that thought. He more or less crowned, and I finally had the (obvious) realization that if I just pushed a bit harder, the tremendous pressure would be relieved. I panted and told Valerie I didn’t want to tear, and she reassured me that she didn’t think I would. So I pushed hard, and his head finally was born at 8:01.

It was sweet relief, and I enjoyed it. I had a solid minute or two between contractions, where I stroked his head, and rejoiced that I was so close to done. After a break, another contraction came, and at 8:03 pm, our sweet rainbow baby was delivered into this world. I shifted to one knee, reached down, and delivered my baby, bringing him up to me. I have a vague memory of the cord being wrapped around his arms and such (I think it was around his arms, neck, and chest) a few times, and having to figure out how to unwrap him. I brought him up through the water slowly, let his face hit the air first, and then slowly brought the rest of him out after a little while. I turned around, leaned against the tub, and relaxed with him on my chest. He was absolutely covered in vernix, which surprised me. It was like cream cheese all over his body, cracking on the creases, but pretty much everywhere. Michael was behind me and together we just adored him. Michael and I kept looking at each other with wonder and amazement that it was already over, and that we had our sweet boy.

He was so very calm and alert. He wasn’t breathing very obviously, so I asked Valerie if she was concerned. She told me that she wasn’t at that point. His body was nice and pink, so she was pretty sure it was fine. After a few minutes she said that his breathing still sounded wetter than she would have liked. She said she didn’t think it was a problem right then, but thought it might be wise to help him to fully inflate his lungs with the ambu bag. We agreed, and she gave him 5 breaths. He did not appreciate it at all, and I think that’s when he started crying a bit. He nursed for a while, and it amazed me again how babies know what they need to do in order to live.

After a while I had more contractions and knew it was time to deliver the placenta. It was tricky as the baby was still attached to it, but I think I held him with one hand, moved to my knees, and used the other hand for some gentle cord guiding while I pushed. It took some gymnastics, but it was finally delivered at 8:35. We realized later it was a really cool placenta. The lobes were attached to the base, but not very attached to each other, which is unusual. There was also a spot that Valerie pointed out where it had started to calcify, which she said was probably why he came a bit early (he was born at 38 weeks and 2 days).

She asked Michael if he wanted to cut the cord (something he has described as very anticlimactic ever since he delivered our oldest), and he said no, he didn’t care. It hit me that even though neither of us really felt strongly about it, it seemed a shame to have the midwife do it, when one of us could. So I cut the cord at 8:38, which was my first time. He was right. It was anticlimactic. I still was glad that one of us did it though.

We got me cleaned up a bit and moved me and our little one to the bed, where we snuggled and breastfed while Michael and Valerie tidied up a bit. At some point during all of this one of the kids needed something, so Michael went in to check on them. He didn’t tell them that they had a new baby brother until the next morning, as we knew they wouldn’t sleep if they knew. We did a quick newborn exam. He was 6 lbs even, and 19 inches long. They got me a bit of food, and then Valerie left to go get some sleep. Our baby was her third birth in 15 hours. Michael took down the birth pool, and then we snuggled and spent time with our sweet little one before finally getting some sleep. It had been a beautiful day, and a beautiful birth.

The Birth of our Joy

The birth of Baby Joy

On Saturday, January 14, 2017, I was working on sewing a blanket for our baby when contractions started. From the very first one they were very intense, more so than I ever remembered them getting with my first baby. I kept sewing for an hour or so, but stopping for each contraction as they got more and more regular. Finally I called my mom to ask her if they could come get our son. I told her I was pretty sure I was in labor. Michael looked up from the couch, super surprised. I guess I hadn’t been as obvious as I thought, and he had no idea what was going on. 

I called our midwife’s assistant, Tabitha and told her what was going on, and she assured me that they would be ready to come. They knew that my first had come pretty quickly, and where this was a second baby, they wanted to be sure they got here in time. I expressed concern that it may not be real. I didn’t want everyone to jump through hoops for me if it wasn’t even time. She told me that it certainly sounded like real labor, but that they would love me either way, and that it would be okay.

Shortly after contacting everyone, I realized that contractions had slowed WAY down. I think they had been regulating to about 5 minutes apart before the phone calls, but they started spacing further and further. 10 minutes, 20 minutes, 8 minutes… It was all over the board. Eventually they spaced out even further, and I was SO discouraged. I wondered if I was just waiting for my mom to come get our son before my body really got down to business.

I asked Michael to give me and our son both a blessing, and he did. I was so worried about Little Man being hurt by another baby being in the house. My baby wasn’t even 2 yet! How could I take his toddlerhood away, and force him to grow up and be a big brother so soon? I don’t remember anything from my blessing, except that I felt comforted, but our son's blessing really stuck with me. He was blessed that his new little sister would not be a trial to him, but instead would be a joy. The word made me gasp, but I didn’t know why.

When my parents got to my house, I was a wreck. I was so emotional, and didn’t want them to take my sweet little boy if I wasn’t even in labor! But we knew it would probably be soon, and they had driven 2 hours to come get him. My mom gave me love and assurances, and I gave my son a long hug and sent them out the door. Contractions did not increase again, and I was so down!

I went to take a shower, listening to hymns and begging the Lord for comfort. It is rather funny now, remembering how distressed I was over something that was not that big of a deal, but pregnancy hormones run high, and I was so worried. I had never had false labor with my first, and so I didn’t know how to cope with the thought that after all that excitement, and after having to let my son leave, we may not have a baby that night. I remember thinking that I would never again hold my son in my arms and rock him, singing songs before tucking him into bed. Thankfully it didn’t take me long after our daughter was born to realize that this was ridiculous! Of course I would still hold him, rock him, and sing to him! Things would be different, but not so different.

As these thoughts ran through my head, I realized that I Need Thee Every Hour was playing on my phone. I listened for a moment. “I need Thee every hour, in Joy or pain”. Again that word! My heart leapt, and I began to weep. I got out of the shower and told Michael about those two experiences. Joy seemed to be everywhere, though I wasn’t feeling it right then. I told him I wondered if Joy was supposed to be a part of our baby's name. We had already decided on Brielle as a middle name, but I thought we should at least consider it. We agreed to think on it, and then went to bed. Contractions were virtually gone.

The next morning I SEETHED as I got ready for church. I was pretty sure I had lost my mucus plug around 6, but wasn’t sure what to do about church at 9. Tabitha encouraged me to normalize my day for my sanity’s sake.  I wasn’t SUPPOSED to be at church! I was SUPPOSED to be at home, lapping up the first day with my precious newborn. I was SUPPOSED to have my little guy at my side, admiring his new little sister. Instead I went to church, still very pregnant, very uncomfortable, and missing my son like crazy. Thankfully I had my wonderful husband by my side. It was so hard when people asked where our son was, because I had to explain why I WASN’T SUPPOSED to be there. It was quite infuriating. Again, pregnancy hormones make for a laughable situation now, but felt so heavy and disappointing at the time.

That afternoon my mom texted to ask what was up. She knew that we had gone to sleep with no baby or contractions, but she wondered if there were any further developments. I remember texting back something about a big fat NOTHING happening, and that I wanted my little boy back, and just wanted to quit. It felt so unfair to “lose” that “last” bit of time with our son when our baby girl wasn’t even on her way. I also knew that I was almost a week early, and that she may not come for a while. My mom comforted me and said that she usually didn’t start labor until about 7 or 8 at night, so there was still hope. I didn’t dare get my hopes up, but right about 7 pm, I had another strong contraction!

Around 7:30 I texted Tabitha again, letting her know that I was getting contractions every 15-30 or so minutes. They were really strong again, but I was afraid to trust them where they were so far apart. I worried that she might be posterior as my back was very crampy during contractions, but Tabitha confirmed that she had been anterior at the last appointment, so we could hope she still was. I planned to go to bed soon and try to get as much sleep as possible.

I told her, “I honestly am just scared to go to bed. I’m afraid that they will either stay every 30ish minutes and wake me up every time I’m finally almost asleep, or I’ll sleep through it turning real and wake up pushing. Haha”

I went to bed around 8:30, but around 9:10 texted again. “Haha, so much for that… I am still going to try, but they are getting closer to 10 minutes apart and really long. Super uncomfortable for the first minute or so, but then I can feel that my stomach is tight for about another TWO MINUTES.. So that’s like a 3 minute contraction… is that even possible? I’m already dreading the next one because of how intense they are. It’s still very manageable but takes so much concentration!”

At 9:42 they were 5-7 minutes apart, and a minute or more long.

Tabitha said they would head my direction, but I was worried it may be too early. I didn’t want to stall things out again. We began to fill the tub, knowing it would take a long time to fill, but wanting to get in as soon as possible. I was worried to though—sometimes getting in the water too soon stalls labor because it relaxes you too much.

Contractions got 4.5 and then 3.5 minutes apart. But as soon as Tabitha said she was on her way, they started to space out again. This was really discouraging as I really wanted a baby, and not another night of false labor. I was also really worried about everyone coming and worrying about me if things weren’t even happening.

Around 10:35 Tabitha, Valerie and Mary showed up. Contractions were seriously spacing out, and I was worried. The contractions were very random, and I never knew when to expect one. I may have one 5 minutes apart, but the next 30 minutes later. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason to the timing. On the other hand, they were SO intense. I remember that every contraction forced me to have NOTHING AND NO PRESSURE on my stomach. I was surprised by that need, and discouraged as my back really hurt. Every time I had a contraction I had to get up on my knees (I was sitting on the couch), face the back corner of the couch where it was high and soft, and lean forward on it, letting my belly hang with nothing touching it. It was weird how strong that need was. NO PRESSURE ON MY STOMACH.

I remember one contraction before Valerie got there, and Tabitha wanted to help with my back pain. She applied gentle counter pressure to my back during a contraction and I was able to express that it was very uncomfortable, so she stopped. After the contraction I thanked her, but said it was just hurting. Later, when Valerie was there, she had the same train of thought (it’s a very common thing for counter pressure to be super helpful with back labor, so it makes total sense that they both wanted to help). During a contraction she came over and pushed on my back. I don’t know if she pushed harder or if the contractions were just more intense by then, but it REALLY hurt. I said something along the lines of “NOO. It HURTS”, but knew it didn’t come out very eloquently. After the contraction I apologized profusely. That is the closest I have come to yelling at someone in labor and I felt awful! She assured me that she was not offended, but to this day, over two years later, I still wish I had been able to control my voice better. I knew that both of them meant to help me, and their efforts were greatly appreciated.

They had been encouraging me for a while to go to bed and rest. They though t that the dark and quiet would be good for me, but I was so worried about it! I knew that I wouldn’t get any rest, as I would have to flip onto my hands and knees every contraction… which doesn’t exactly make for good resting. But finally, around midnight I decided to try. Michael and I went and lay down, but sure enough, within a few minutes a contraction came and I had to flip onto hands and knees, relieving the pressure on my stomach. I lay back down and tried to rest, but a few minutes later it happened again. Contractions tend to be a lot more intense when you are laying down, and these were awful! I was so tired, and honestly didn’t even know yet if I was in labor for real. 

After 3 or 4 contractions, I told Michael I was DONE being in bed, and that as soon as the next contraction was over, I was going back into the front room with everyone. Little did I know that in the front room they were already satisfied: having dark and privacy had pushed me into a more active labor, which was the hope.

The contractions were a bit more regular after being in the room, but not a lot. Still pretty sporadic. I remember getting so tense during them, and nothing was helping me relax, though I was trying to. At one point Mary came over and gently smoothed my forehead, reminding me to relax it, and it was so comforting! I really appreciated it, and it helped me to relax a lot. Still, they really hurt. I was really thrown by that: my first birth didn’t hurt at all until crowning.

I told Michael that after the next contraction I needed to go to the bathroom, but I would need him with me. I knew the cold was very likely to make it hurt more, and I would need his support. While on the toilet, at 12:58, I finally felt the familiar feeling of my body tensing to push. The Fetal Ejection Reflex was beginning to work. It was only for a split second, but that was the first time I was SURE I was actually in labor, and going to have a baby that night. I was SOOO ready to get in the tub, so they began to fill the other half up.

I suddenly was faced with a dilemma. I did NOT want to change, but I also didn’t want to get in the tub in normal clothes. I knew they would be a pain to get off later. So I needed to change, but I knew any cool air would make it hurt more. I also was NOT willing to just undress and hop in. A lot of people say they get to a point where they don’t care about being modest in labor. I never seem to get to that point. I don’t mind being a bit exposed when necessary, but I also want to be as covered as is reasonable for the situation. They helped me to quickly change into the tankini top that I birthed my first in, and I got in the tub. Immediately happy words began to flow from my mouth and mind. I think I said something along the lines of, “Oh, yes! Warm water is God’s gift to women!” I was so relieved to be in the water. It always comforts and relaxes me so much! 

I checked, and felt her head really low. It was so relieving, and I knew it was going to be okay.

I started full on pushing (again, my body doing all the work through FER, but I mean full on bearing down now instead of the little squeeze that let me know it was starting) at 1:11. At 1:15 the chart notes that I was pushing only with some contractions and not with others. Even as late as 1:17, WHILE PUSHING, they noted that my contractions were still quite far apart. I think they were also still sporadic at that time, though I am not certain. At 1:18 I felt a pop and a bit of a gush and knew that my water had broken. I felt her head RIGHT THERE, and knew it wouldn’t be long.

Pushing was weird. With our son I was leaning back between contractions, and laying my head in my mom’s lap. Then the contraction would make me crunch forward as I pushed. I was really able to rest between and feel relaxed though.  But with our daughter it was completely different! Really, there was no comparison. Michael was on the couch behind me, as I lay in the birth tub. I would lay my head back on the edge and rest while I could, but I never felt very relaxed. Then a contraction would come, hard and painful, and I would have to hurry to flip over before it was too intense. I rested my head, arms and chest on the side of the tub, often holding Michael’s hand, and on my knees so my belly didn’t hurt. I remember being really poetic, and saying things like, “Ow. OW. OOOWWW. This really hurts! OOOWWW! Heavenly Father, please help me!”

I was just so surprised by it that I didn’t know how to cope with it. Pushing my son out really didn’t hurt, but this was quite painful. I remember feeling her head, still inside of me, and “realizing” that it wasn’t possible for it to fit between my hips. It just wasn’t going to happen. I felt rather matter of fact about it. I wasn’t worried about needing to transfer or anything, I think I just thought I would be in labor forever and that her head was never going to fit. Thankfully, I was wrong, but it sure felt true.

I remember suddenly realizing (at some point after getting in the tub) that the fuzziness I was feeling was hair! And a lot of it! Having that realization made the baby feel a lot more real. Sometimes in labor it is easy to forget about the point, and what the end of labor will bring. Remembering that this was all about a baby, MY real, live, beautiful daughter, made it a bit easier. 

Finally, I felt her begin to crown, and then we had a head at 1:22. I thought for a moment that her hand was by her face, but then it was gone. Later Tabitha said she thought she had seen the same thing, but was not sure. At 1:23, my sweet daughter was born! I delivered my own child, lifting her out of the water, laying down and putting her to my chest. It was SO nice to be able to finally lay back and rest, holding my precious bundle. They told me 1:23, but put 1:24 on the birth certificate. When I checked the chart, it was because she was born at 1:23.56. So I still claim 1:23. J

The placenta was delivered at 1:42. I don’t remember much after that. I was exhausted! I only had a small tear which they decided did not need to be stitched, so that was a relief.

It took me months to come to terms with my birth story. I felt like I had failed, and turned into a baby at the last minute. I had been so much “braver” during my first birth, but it also was much easier, I didn’t really have to be brave. My son's birth taught me that my body can do anything, and that my body was made for this! My daughter's birth taught me that I could do anything with the Lord on my side. It was SO hard, but I did it.

When they filled out the birth certificate that night, they asked for a middle name. Michael and I had not discussed it since the previous night. We looked at each other, and Michael said, “Joy.” Baby Joy is truly a joy to us. She has an intense and strong personality, but cannot help but bring joy where she goes.

The Birth of Our Angel, 03/31/15

This is the (VERY long in coming) story of my baby's birth. There will be talk of birth related things, such as dilation and placentas. If this bothers you, stop reading here. :)

For the rest of you...

We had everything necessary packed and ready by 37 weeks along, because that is what you do. We had the carseat installed in the car, with help from our local police station (they offer free carseat installation help), our bag for the birth center packed, and all of my "labor food" bought.

With that said, I was CERTAIN I would be pregnant a good while yet. Most first time moms go a week or two "late," and my mom always did. So I really only had things ready because that is what I was supposed to do. Ha ha ha. Now, while I had everything necessary packed, I had nothing extra that was wanted. I planned to have a playlist of soft hymns to listen to, index cards with inspirational scriptures written on them, and some essential oils just in case I decided to use them (which honestly I doubted, but I wanted to be prepared!). I planned on getting those things ready as things got closer.

My "39 Weeks Along" picture

On March 30, stuck in bed (as I was every morning, due to extreme dizziness and weakness, but none of the doctor's tests came back with any indication of why...), I decided that since I was 39 weeks along that day, it might be good timing to decide on what songs and what scriptures I wanted, though I planned on putting together the playlist and writing out the scriptures later. I spent most of the day, and came up with two good lists. I really thought I would get to use them...

I'd been having Braxton Hicks for a while. They were not a big deal, but sometimes distracting. That afternoon we went for a brief walk. This was because it was nice outside and I was actually feeling up to it. It was NOT an attempt to start labor. I was perfectly happy being pregnant, and was still pretty comfortable. I started seeing a pattern to my Braxton Hicks during the walk though. They were about 5 minutes apart, and about a minute long. We got home and I called my midwife, Kathy, just to apprise her, but was sure it was nothing. As I rested they faded, which is a good sign that they are not real contractions.

We ate some seven layer dip and a fruit smoothie (maybe that was before the walk?) for dinner. I took a shower and then lay in bed for a while, texting my midwife before going to sleep:

I'm about to head to sleep, but just so you have an update... 

They got closer together during my shower; about 1:40 apart. 

Then when I got back in bed they have been getting further apart, 

back to maybe 5 minutes, although I haven't been lying down for long. 

I'm still thinking it's nothing, and sleeping will probably make them stop,

 but I'll text/call you if I think I need to in the night. 

-8:26 PM

I tossed and turned for about an hour, finally giving up and texting again. I knew that my midwife recommended a Tylenol PM if you couldn't sleep in early labor, because she knew you would need the rest later on. 

At what point would you have me take a Tylenol PM? 

I can't seem to relax enough to sleep, and I'm still getting regular contractions 

(although I'm not sure how regular as I haven't been timing). 

If this isn't it, I'd rather have a sleepless night than take Tylenol. 

But if I'm really going to need my strength later, I would rather get the sleep. 

Thoughts?

-9:31 PM

She texted back that I should call her. I felt bad as it was the middle of the night. Yes, that is what I thought. Now I look at the time stamps and laugh at how early in the night it was! I wish I went to sleep that early nowadays!

I snuck out of the room (of course my sweet husband was fast asleep and had been for an hour), and called her. We chatted for a bit, and determined that I should take the Tylenol PM. We both knew that if this was the real deal the contractions would wake me soon, but that I would need all the sleep I could get. She told me at the end of our call that this did sound like the real thing to her, and she was pretty sure that I was in early labor, but to try to sleep. 

I didn't believe it even then. 

I went to bed, excited at the thought, but not getting my hopes up. After all, I was sure I had 2-3 weeks left, and most moms have a bunch of false alarms the first time, right?

I woke up at 1:17 and texted Kathy to let her know. Every pregnant woman understands waking up in the night to use the bathroom, and I was pretty sure that was all it was. I got back in bed and tried to go back to sleep. Another hour went by, and again I gave up.

I can't fall back asleep. Contraction are continuing and

 getting more intense. They feel really crampy, and make me 

want to go sit on the toilet or take a hot bath like 

I used to when I was on my period.

-2:12 AM

I just timed a few so I could tell you, and they seem to be 

about 3-3 1/2 minutes apart, but that is only based on a few. 

It's also weird because they are only painful for about the 

first 30 seconds or so. Then the pain fades away, and I would

 think it was over except that my stomach stays tight for another 

30 seconds or more. If they are still going and I can't sleep when 

Michael gets up at 3, I'll probably give you a call.

-2:15 AM

Oh yeah. THAT'S why we were in bed so early! My sweetie worked early morning custodial, and had to be to work at 4. This meant leaving around 3:30, so he got up at 3. 

Kathy wrote back quickly that I should call her. Now I look at this and think, "really?!" My contractions were 3-3.5 minutes apart while I was resting, and I was going to wait 45 minutes to call her?? Sheesh. I think I was just so afraid of being disappointed, and it was a lot earlier than I was expecting...

We talked on the phone, and she agreed that it would be good for me to be seen to get a feel for where things were at. I think this is when we agreed that I should call my mom who was going to be there, but had a two hour drive to make. I think this is also when Michael woke up, but I don't remember any exciting whisper of "It's time!" in his ear... I think he just woke to me on the phone or something? Our midwife's apprentice, Dani, was already at the birth center doing laundry from another birth, so we headed there to have her check me. We arrived around 3:40, because I was frantically telling Michael what essential oils and so forth I hadn't packed yet. Between contractions of course. It was too hard to focus during. I also downed a greek yogurt, hoping to have some calories to be working on if this was the real deal. 

We got to the birth center and visited for a while. She saw me in a few contractions, and we chatted about symptoms, and what the night had looked like so far. She said that she was pretty confident that I was solidly in early labor, based on how aware I was during contractions and so forth. She asked if I wanted a cervical check but I declined. She checked the baby's heart, which was good, and the baby's position. It was funny to me, because the baby had still not dropped and engaged in my pelvis, nor had he turned so his back was in the middle--he was still hanging out with his back on my right. She said we could stay if we wanted, but that she thought I'd be more comfortable at home, which I agreed with. She told me to try to rest, and try not to get out of bed until 8. 

We headed for home around 4:20. I was really discouraged. I really didn't feel that my contractions were painful, but I really had thought I was further along, and they were getting very intense. As we drove, I turned to Michael and said, "I don't know if I can do this if it gets much harder." My poor sweet husband just bit his tongue. 

I had coached him the whole pregnancy that when a woman says she can't do it anymore that she is usually in transition, so if I ever said that he should tell me that meant I was almost done. Well, we had just been told we were far from done, so he bit his tongue and also wondered how much harder it was going to get. 

The moment we pulled onto the freeway I told Michael to pull over, as I had to throw up. We stopped just in time, and I got back into the car even more discouraged. Throwing up is also a sign of transition. I texted Dani and asked if that worried her, but she wasn't too concerned and told me to get some rest and be gentle with my stomach so early in the morning. 

We got home and I climbed into bed, knowing my mom was not far away. The plan was for her (and my dad, as mom doesn't like driving at night, and he wanted to be there to see baby afterwards) to just walk in and head to sleep on the couch. We left the door unlocked for them, and tried to get to sleep. I really don't think we had even been home for 10 minutes when we heard the door. I felt a contraction coming, and told Michael quickly to go out and greet them, but shut the door so I could have privacy during my contraction. 

My contractions were getting really intense, and laying in bed was SO uncomfortable. It was probably only about 5 or 5:30 by now, and I just wanted my mommy. After the contraction I hopped up and went in to say hi. I was so much happier up that I didn't want to go back to bed, and it was so nice to see my parents. My dad was already laying on the couch with a blanket, because we had told them we would be in bed. He thought he got to go back to sleep, but I was not that kind. We all sat out there for a while, everyone talking quietly, and me enjoying the conversation. During contractions they all did a good job of talking even softer, but not making me feel watched. Mom even double checked that they were still okay to talk to each other during contractions, and I assured her they were fine!

A while passed, when during a contraction I felt my uterus tighten in a 2 second long push. I KNEW that was not supposed to be happening yet, and so gathered all my strength and focus to say (still in the middle of a contraction) "There is NO way I am pushing already." 

Everyone sprang into action. Michael texted Dani telling her what I had said. I asked everyone to be calm (still contracting and needed to focus on relaxing). My poor mother sat there KNOWING that we needed to go, but thinking that I didn't feel the urgency. She joked later that she was NOT going to catch that baby, but she was afraid that we didn't realize that this was a big deal. I felt the urgency (enough to talk during a contraction), but needed calm at the same time. 

Here is what Michael sent...

Kendyl has been having some powerful contractions and just 

said she was wondering if she could be pushing. (Which, by the way, 

is NOT what I said. I WAS pushing, and had no control over it! :D) 

Her contraction lengths have stayed about five minutes 

between and 1:30 average duration. 

-6:18

She wrote back saying we should come back in. Michael told her I just wanted a hot bath. Sadly, the rule was that I couldn't get in the bath unless the midwife was there, because it tends to speed things up. So I knew I couldn't, but I really wanted to. She said that we should come and we could make a decision about the bath once there.

I did NOT want to make the 20 minute drive again only to have to go home (yes, I was still doubting how far things were), but I knew that there was little choice. We headed back, arriving around 6:50. Yes, it took 20 minutes to get out the door. My poor mom nearly had a heart attack, but we all made it. :)

I think I had three contractions between the car and the room. I remember leaning against the front desk, swaying and moaning through a contraction, and being vaguely aware of Dani on the phone, telling Kathy it was time to come now. I felt myself pushing a little bit with each contraction still, but had no control over it. 

When I finally got back to the room, Dani asked if I could get on the bed for a few contractions so she could check my dilation and monitor the baby. I was fully dilated (thank heavens! I never had to deal with being told I was only a 2!), and the baby was doing great. He had turned properly, and was fully engaged. I kept asking if the tub was ready yet, but they were still filling it, and I couldn't get in until Kathy was there anyway. 

I think it was the second contraction on the bed when my water broke. It was around 7:14. This made things more intense, and I was DONE with the bed. I couldn't get in the water yet, so they had me try the birthing stool. I HATED it. I mean, I really hated it. A lot. I think a lot of that was because my water had just broken, so I could feel everything a lot more. I think the other part was that it was not the water, so I hated it. :D I think I had two contractions there before we FINALLY heard Kathy walk in the door. It had been almost exactly 20 minutes, which is how far she lives from the center. I thought it was so much longer, but she probably jumped in the car right after Dani called and booked it to the birth center. 

Around 7:16 I FINALLY got to get in the wonderful, kind, happy, warm, loving water. I'm telling you, that was the best thing since sliced bread. I was SO happy to be in the water, finally, finally, FINALLY. 

They continued to check the baby's heart rate between and during contractions, though I barely noticed. My mom sat on the edge of the tub behind me, and I lay back in her lap between contractions. She stroked my hair and helped me relax. Michael was directly in front of me, and I was able to see him and draw upon his strength. He encouraged me, loved me, held my hand, and talked to me between contractions. Kathy, Dani, and Lauren (another assistant who got there sometime before Kathy, but I'm not sure when) were also around the tub, stepping in from time to time to check the baby's heart rate, offer me water, or help me wipe my face (I kept throwing up), but mostly giving me my space. 

This time was a blur. I remember being able to totally relax between contractions, but during pushing hard. It was not deliberate though. This whole time my body was pushing. I couldn't stop it anymore than I could have stopped the waves of the ocean. I just went with it and trusted my body. 

I remember hearing myself moan while pushing (just because the air being expelled had to do something), and once hearing it get rather high pitched, almost like a moaning scream. I knew it still wasn't hurting, so I wasn't sure why I made that noise, but as soon as the contraction was over I looked at Michael and told him calmly that it sounded a lot worse than it felt, and that I was still doing great. He smiled and said he knew, and we continued riding the waves together. 

I also remember thinking at one point, remembering how people say that after you have a baby, hormones come in to make you forget how much it hurt, and how hard it was, so that you will be willing to have more babies. I really was doing fine, and I wanted to remember that, and not just assume that I had just forgotten how bad it "really was." So, thinking of that, I said that it really wasn't hurting, but required a lot of concentration, and that I was feeling great! This statement has given me reassurance many times since then. I just wanted to remember!

It wasn't too long before they could see the very tip of his head making it's way in and out, working past my pubic bone. I reached down to feel it, and remember being distracted by a bubble from his sack that was still full of fluid, and slightly to the side. It stayed there a long time and bugged me every time I tried to feel my baby. Feeling his head was encouraging but surreal. 

Finally I knew his head was really coming. Feeling a slight ring of fire was THE ONLY time during labor that I described as at all painful, and it really wasn't bad. I tried to not push, but again, I had no control over it, so push I did. I felt something give on the right, and knew I had torn a little, though I knew it wasn't bad. 

At 7:55 his head was delivered. I remember being surprised as his head came out, and he immediately turned his neck. I knew that he would turn, but I guess I thought it would be gradual. As he turned his head, it finally hit me that I was having a baby. Like, a real, living baby. Who could move his head! Most of his body followed right after, during the same contraction. 

I knew that usually once the head and shoulders are out, the rest of baby comes immediately. So head and shoulders were out, and I could see him, but I couldn't figure out why they wouldn't hand him to me. They told me he had stopped at his hips (how is that fair!?), and that if I pushed a little (between contractions) that he would come the rest of the way. So I did (my first deliberate push), and out he slithered at 7:56 AM (and yes, we have all laughed at the irony of being told to stay in bed until 8 AM).

They lay my sweet little one on my chest, and I was so happy to see him! He was so perfect, and very purple. :) They told me to rub his back to stimulate him a little, as he wasn't breathing yet. I half-heartedly did, but I had so little energy left that my rubbing wouldn't have stimulated a snail. After a moment Dani took him and gently tilted his head below his feet, hoping to help him breathe. That didn't help either, so finally she asked for the ambu bag. The moment he heard her state that, he decided he'd had enough, so he let out a hearty cry. Everyone seemed relieved, but Michael and I realized later that neither of us had been remotely worried. We both had peace and knew that it was fine. 

Our little one pretty much cried nonstop for the next two hours... But at least he was breathing!

A little time passed, and my placenta detached, but I still wasn't feeling any contractions or urges to get it out. They had me try to push it out, but that did nothing but make us all laugh. I had NO muscle tone or strength left, and had no contractions to help. Eventually, somehow, it was out at 8:14. 

Our first family picture

At 8:16 Michael cut the cord, then he took the baby while I sat on the shower stool and they helped me to get washed off. They told me to tell them if I got even a tiny bit dizzy. After a couple of minutes I told them that I was a little bit dizzy, but wasn't worried about it. When it didn't pass, they had Michael pass off the baby (probably to my mom?), and lift me out of the tub and onto the bed. 

We got nice and settled, cleaned things up (okay, they did that. I didn't help with clean up. ;D), and got comfortable. My dad came to see the new baby, bringing breakfast, and I loved seeing the look on his face as a brand new grandpa. 

My two loves

Eventually everyone left, and the midwives went out to see their other clients for the day's prenatal appointments. We were supposed to rest, but I just lay in bed, watching Michael holding our sweet new baby, both asleep, and I marveled at the love I felt for them. It was truly a beautiful moment, and a nice picture to have solidified in my mind as the day that we first met our son.

He Lives!

As Easter approaches, reminders of Spring are everywhere. The grass is green, flowers are blooming, and sunshine is everywhere. The birds are singing, the air is fresh, and I am feeling grateful to be alive! Everywhere are beautifully decorated eggs, chocolates, and people in the grocery store dressed up as bunnies (How is that cute? Am I seriously the only one terrified of the Easter Bunny!?). There are so many reminders of new life, but I think we often forget why we celebrate Easter. Yes, it is about new life, but in so much more of a beautiful and significant way than an Easter egg can say!

Our Savior suffered in the Garden of Gethsemane for us. He bled from every pore. He felt every pain, sickness, sorrow, and suffering that any of us would ever feel. He also felt every joy, happiness, pleasure, and delight that any of us would ever know. He felt it all. He truly understands YOU, and EXACTLY what you are feeling and going through, whether good or bad. He suffered for every sin that would ever be (or had already been) committed. He drank the bitter cup that we might live with him again. He then died on the cross for us.

All of this is true, and all of this is vital. Without his Atonement for us, not a single one of us would be able to return to live with him. But there is more.

On the third day after his death, he rose from the tomb, breaking free from the bondage of death. An angel proclaimed to his friends, "He is not here, for he has risen" (Matthew 28:6)! What glorious news!

Our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ was resurrected! He has risen, and he lives today. I know that he atoned and died for us, but I also know that he was resurrected and lives for us! Because of him, we may live again, and live with him!

Yes, I know I'm using a lot of exclamation points. Yes, I know that annoys some people. But when you cannot see my face, and cannot hear my voice, I have limited options as to how to communicate the importance and beauty of these words with you.

He lives!! Can you not feel your heart thrill within you? Can you not feel the Spirit testifying that what I am saying is true? I know that if you will pray about it, you will receive an answer. You will come to know this. Our Savior lives for us. He lives for me, and he lives for you.

As you celebrate the new life that Spring brings, and the fun and excitement of hunting for Easter eggs, finding baskets, and dying eggs, try to remember the new life that Easter is really about. And remember that even today, he lives!

It is Enough

I have always loved the story of the Widow's mite. It is the story of many rich men bringing of their wealth to contribute to the treasury. My understanding is that they were basically paying their tithing. As Christ and the Apostles watched, a poor widow arrived, and cast in her two mites. While there is some argument about how much that would equal in today's economy, the point is that it was a very small amount. Then the miracle happened. Our beloved Savior declared, "Of a truth, I say unto you that this poor widow hath cast in more than they all: For all these have of their abundance cast in unto the offerings of God: but she of her penury hath cast in all the living that she had."

The Websters 1828 dictionary defines Penury as "Want of property; indigence; extreme poverty." So
in her "extreme poverty," she cast in all the living that she had. 

This story has always reminded me that it doesn't matter how much or how little tithing I have to offer. What matters is that I give. 

But this time, reading of the widow's mite, I realized a huge part I've been missing - this story is not about tithing! Yes, that is included, but it is referring to any offering. As I realized this, I began to weep. My offering is sufficient.

On the days when we find out we are moving and only have two weeks to pack everything we own. On the days when we end up in Urgent Care with a baby who has a fever of 104.9 that won't go down. On the days when my sweetie comes home to a messy house and no dinner. In the moments when I wake in the middle of the night only to hear our little one crying in pain or fear, and I have so little strength to help him. On the days that driving, or even getting out of bed is more than my anxiety can handle, or my depression has me in the depths of despair "because" I never vacuum, or "because" my sweetie had to make dinner again. In the moments when I am the "worst person in the world" because I forgot to visit teach that month or don't know why baby is crying. In all of these days and moments when what I have to offer couldn't possibly be enough....

It is enough.

The Lord doesn't ask us to offer enough money to build a temple, or a church, or even the podium single handedly. And he doesn't expect us to offer "enough" in our lives and emotions either. We need to offer what we have, even in our penury of spirit and weakness of body and heart. Even when we can't give enough...

It is enough.

You are enough. What you have to offer is enough. Your gifts and talents are enough. Your virtues and strengths are enough. Everything that you have to give, whether you are "wealthy" or "poor" in this season of life. It is all enough.

It is enough because the Lord makes all the difference.

He Shall Open the Windows of Heaven

Often I wonder, "Why am I such an unprofitable servant to the Lord?" It's always bothered me. Those of you that know me know that I can't stand being indebted for anything. I don't like loans, and avoid them whenever possible. I don't like owing someone a favor, or an egg, or anything else that could be avoided by any other choice. But then I think of the Lord, and all I owe him. I try to "pay him back," and have no success.

Good morning world, how are you today? I think. Okay... How can I work to repay my debt to the Lord today? I know I need to pay my tithing, so I'll do that. I need to [teach/visit teach/sing in choir/whatever my current calling is]. I need to take care of my family, so I'll make dinner, and try to be more present for my husband and baby. And maybe I can invite a new ward member over for dinner?

Sounds like a basically good day, right? Lots to do, lots of people to bless, lots of hearts to cheer. So let's do this!

But by the time I can pay my tithing, I have discovered an extra $20 in my pocket. I fulfill my calling, but find that my [lesson] blesses me far more than anyone else. I try to be more present but immediately realize the incredible blessing I have in having a wonderful husband and precious baby to be present for. And I invite the new ward members over for dinner, only to be blessed by a loaf of homemade bread, and a dear new friend.

This is only a tiny example. The Lord promises us that as we obey him, he will "open you the windows of heaven, and pour you out a blessing, that there shall not be room enough to receive it" (Malachi 3:10). And that has been my experience over and over again. So many times it is even literal. He just pours blessings for me, and there is not room for them all.

Matthew 19:29 reads, "And every one that hath forsaken houses, or bretheren, or sisters, or father, or mother, or wife, or children, or lands, for my name's sake, shall receive an hundredfold, and shall inherit everlasting life."

This scripture greatly helped me during a difficult time in my life, when my family moved far from the home I love (high five if you get my reference!) partway into my first semester of high school. I felt a reassurance that the Lord would continue to bless me, and that as I had given up my friends and home for Him, that He would someday bless me an hundred fold, and give me everlasting life.

Another time comes to mind. A story I will probably share more fully in a future post, but I can sum it up here. I had just returned to school for my third semester, and realized that my financial aid had not come through. The school assured me that it would be in within 4-6 weeks, but I knew that I only had about $20 to get me through until then. I begged the Lord for help, and then chose to pay my tithing, even though I needed every penny I had. The first day of the semester came, and one friend came over with bags and bags of groceries for me (totally out of the blue), and my roommate came home with a big box of food, from "some guy" that asked her to give it to me (yes, she lied about not knowing him, yes, I figured out who it was by the end of the semester, but that is not what mattered). The tiny pantry shelves that were assigned to me were literally overflowing with food. I had enough and to spare. As a side note, my financial aid came in very quickly--I think it was by the end of that week.

When we sacrifice for and trust in the Lord, we are blessed beyond measure, and often more than we have room for. The moment may seem totally hopeless, we may feel lost and confused beyond saving, but he still will save. He still will bless us, and he still cares.

And I am coming to find peace in the fact that I can never pay him back. I continue to try to be somewhat worthy of the blessings that he so generously bestows, but I know that I will never really be worthy. And that's okay. He loves me anyway, and delights in blessing me. And he feels the same way about you.

Help Thou my Unbelief

In Mark 9 we read the story of a desperate father, pleading with the Lord to save his son. His son was possessed by an unclean spirit, and had been since he was "a child." This makes me wonder how old the boy was? Perhaps a young teenager? This spirit was constantly plaguing this poor family, throwing the boy in the fire or the water to kill him. I cannot imagine the stress as a mother! Trying every moment of every day to protect your son, who is no longer a tiny baby. However old he was, I am sure it was physically taxing as well, to constantly pull him out of trouble, and try to restrain him for his own safety. As a 2 year old, that would be really hard on either parent. If he were a teenager, it would have been nearly impossible, even for both parents!

This father had obviously heard of Jesus, and had come to find him (possibly even traveling a long way with his son), knowing that he could heal him, and thus bless the entire family. He met with the disciples, as Christ was not there at the time (he was on the Mount of Transfiguration), and, knowing that they also worked miracles, he asked them to heal his son. I'm sure that having heard of the miracles that had been performed, he felt like his long journey was finally at an end.

But the disciples could not heal him.

Amidst the chaos and (I'm sure) frustration that ensued, Christ arrived. People ran to him, and the father was among them. He begged our Savior to save his son. He told him the whole story--all that happened to his son, what the spirit did to him, the fact that the disciples couldn't heal him... I can only imagine the hope that this father felt, and yet the fear he probably had. When this is the very last hope you have in the world for your son, and the rest of your family, to every live a happy normal life, how do you not quake in fear that it won't work out?

"Jesus said unto him, If thou canst believe, all things are possible to him that believeth." (Mark 9:23)

"And straightway the father of the child cried out, and said with tears, Lord, I believe; help thou mine unbelief." (Mark 9:24)

The part that has always struck me in this story is the humility of this incredible father. He didn't hesitate, he "straightway" responded. He did believe. He didn't doubt his faith. As Jeffrey R. Holland said, "I am not asking you to pretend to faith you do not have. I am asking you to be true to the faith you do have."
https://www.lds.org/general-conference/2013/04/lord-i-believe?lang=eng

Then, this father followed up quickly by recognizing that his faith may not be enough. He knew it was there, but he did not know if it was enough.

Our wonderful, loving, faithful Savior cast out the evil spirit, and lifted the boy up, returning him to his father, whole, for the first time in a long time.

While I am still profoundly struck by the humility of this father, something else caught my attention this time. The Lord told him that if he could believe all things were possible. This man did believe, but still had unbelief. Jesus did not say, "Okay, you don't believe enough, but I'll let it go this time." He knew that it was possible according to this father's faith. We are also told that if we ask we can receive. I can only assume that, quietly, and without fanfare, or too much of an audience, the Lord did exactly as this man asked, and helped his unbelief.

All things are possible if I believe. But if I have any unbelief, but I want to believe fully, Jesus Christ can (and will) help me with that first! I simply have to ask.

So many times throughout my life I have questioned things. I have wondered if this gospel REALLY is true. I have wondered if Heavenly Father really loves ME. I have wondered if I can really make it back to Heavenly Father's presence, and if the Atonement is really enough for ME and MY sins. (Spoiler Alert: It is. He does. I can. It is.) I want to believe it. I want to be enough. But something in me (or an evil spirit, whispering in my ear) says I am not enough, and I can't do it. I can't believe enough.

Especially when my depression was at it's worst... I knew that I had a lot to live for. I knew that I have a wonderful family who loves me, and that I have promise and potential. Alas, in those dark, hellish moments, I didn't really believe it. But I did want to believe it.

And in that desire to believe, and that wanting to even want to live, the Savior was able to save me. My depression is far from behind me, but the worst seems to be past. And I didn't believe enough. I know I didn't. But I wanted to.

As I asked the Lord to help my unbelief, and to save my very life, he did. It wasn't a fast recovery. It wasn't an immediate help. I didn't feel better immediately, or I guarantee you my depression would be long over, and would have lasted about 5 minutes, rather than 5 years. But he helped my unbelief, and he saved me. He did all that and more for me, and I know he can and will for you too. You just need to want to believe, and ask for his help.