Evangeline is eight months old!

Weight: TBD

Clothes Size: On the verge of growing out of 6-9 Months… so 9-12 Months (or 12m)!

New Skills: “standing” (if I help her up, she can stand, holding onto something else); babbling “da-da-da-da” (new this week, actually)… and sometimes it seems like she makes a “mmmmmm” sound when she wants me, although that could just be her hungry/sad/whiny sound; feeding herself sweet potato “puffs”

When we were in India in 2008, Dr. Sam Thomas told us stories about how he brought some of the kids into the orphanage. One story has stuck with me for all these years.

Dr. Thomas was on a train, and, as it began to cross a trestle, he noticed a woman with several children standing near the door. As their train car approached the middle of the bridge, the woman thrust open the door and frantically, tearfully began to throw her children off the train. In horror, Dr. Thomas rushed toward them, shouting. “No,” he cried, “you don’t have to do that!” He could see desperation in the woman’s eyes. There was one small boy left, and Dr. Thomas put his hands on the child. “I can help you!” he pleaded. The woman did not look back as she let go of her son and jumped from the train.

The truth is that in India this kind of practice is not as uncommon as you would hope. Often, if a family becomes too poor to take care of their children, they will simply find a way to kill them, rather than watch them suffer a long, painful death to starvation. It is a horrifying and gut-wrenching thing to realize the things that desperation can do to troubled people.

In our country, it is rare to see such acts be perpetrated, but, in fact, it is happening every day around us. Women who are scared, overwhelmed, and feel unprepared to care for a child head to their local Planned Parenthood or other crisis pregnancy center where they are, more often than not, counseled and encouraged to abort. It’s not a visible train trestle, for certain. But the child is just as dead.

It is a great tragedy that so few Christians make any effort to step in.

I imagine that if anyone, Christians or not, witnessed a mother tossing her children off a bridge, he or she would definitely make every effort to stop it, to save the children, to help the mother. However, when it comes to the abortion situation, we find ourselves on the sidelines.

I am personally opposed to throwing babies off a train, we say. But I don’t feel that it is really ‘my thing’ to make a desperate woman raise children she doesn’t want.

It disgusts me that someone would toss a child from a train, we say. But why would she listen to me anyway? Her mind is already made up.

Of course, I am pro-life, we say. But I am just not ‘into’ protests and things like that.

Where is your heart?

I don’t like confrontation, we say. What if someone yells at me or spits in my face?

Where are your guts?

This is your wake-up call.
This is your call to action.

Get off your couch, away from your office, out of your house. For one day, take a stand.

Decide for yourself who you want to be, how you want your children to see you. Are you going to be silent and hopeful, praying that someone else will do the job we are all called to do? Or will you stand up, horrified, and cry out against the tragedy before us, “you don’t have to do that!”

“He will reply, ‘I tell you the truth, whatever you did not do for
one of the least of these, you did not do for me.’” (Matthew 25:45 NIV)

Come to the March for Life!

January 23, 2012 in Washington, DC
Join us »

Evangeline is seven months old!

Weight: 16 lb. 8 oz.

Clothes Size: 6-9 Months

New Skills: Sitting all by herself! “Playing” her little piano (see below), eating solids (mango peach puree, sweet potatoes, and carrots are her favorites so far… I guess she loves orange as much as her daddy does!), experimenting with new consonant sounds (b, d, g, v, and f so far) in her regular babbling. I’m also starting to notice stranger awareness at times. Still no response yet on sign language, but we’re working on being consistent with her so she’ll pick up on it in a few more months. Two teeth have come in (as you can see in the picture), and it seems like she may be working on a few more. Nothing peeking through yet though!

Today, I had to go to my baby niece’s funeral, and I find that I am filled with such sorrow and frustration that, mixed together, feel strongly like anger. I don’t want to be angry that the Lord, in His omniscience and unending love, chose to take Mercy home to be with Him rather than give her the life we expected with us. But at this moment, I am struggling to find anything that makes this day less awful.

I have the verses in front of me that should prove that this day can be one of joy, but instead I find myself dwelling on the hopeless feeling that is hanging over me like a fog … which is actually kind of ironic, since today was an absolutely gorgeous fall day with sun streaming across a cloudless sky.

How is this “supposed” to go? Am I allowed to cry—to show openly and publicly that I am struggling? As with the other deaths I have experienced, I find myself wondering what is appropriate or expected of me emotionally rather than being able to relax and simply feel however I want to feel.

How is someone supposed to react when a baby dies unexpectedly and seemingly for no medical reason at 26 weeks into the pregnancy?

Stillborn.

There. I said it. The horrible word is out there.

It’s not fair.

I know that life isn’t fair, and that’s actually a good thing since we all deserve much worse than what we get. I know that. That knowledge doesn’t make it easier in this moment today to deal with the effects of this broken, fallen world.

It was a tiny white casket, barely larger than a shoebox, on a red pedestal beside a small plaque marked “SHARE No. 98.” No names were on the stone; just a number. It’s not personal, but it’s something. It’s a place to go with flowers and stuffed animals and tears if it comes to that.

It’s not fair.

I try so hard not to dwell on the physical when it comes to death. I am usually okay until I see the box. The box bothers me somehow, makes everything more tangible and real. Instead of being able to keep focusing my mind on things spiritual and heavenly, like my beloved Grandma Rose (Mom-mom) rocking little Mercy in her arms amidst golden walls and puffy clouds, the box brings to mind things like dirt and darkness and bones.

I don’t have a grand conclusion for this one.

I have my baby girl, but my sister doesn’t have hers. It’s not fair.

Mercy Rose
September 17, 2011
You may not have ever taken a breath or opened up your eyes, little one, but I love you just the same.
Aunt Laure misses you, little girl!

Evangeline is five months old!

Clothes Size: 3-6 Months

New Skills: Almost sitting on her own! Two teeth seem to be coming in; loves throwing her head back into a “dip” while you hold her (sometimes really unexpectedly); discovered her legs and feet; often chews on toys, bibs, clothes, and anything else she can stick into her mouth!

Evangeline is four months old!

Height: 24 in
Weight: 13.8 lb

Clothes Size: 3-6 Months

New Skills: holding her head up, getting close to supported sitting (she can do 5 minutes or so in the Bumbo chair before she gets tired of it), lots of squeaking and laughing, sucking on her thumb and/or fingers, reaching for toys in front of her, PLUS rolling from her back to her stomach! Hooray!

Evangeline is three months old!

They didn’t weigh or measure her at the 3-month appointment, since it was just for some shots… But she seems to be right on schedule and growing out of her 0-3 month sized clothes right on time!

New Skills: laughing at toys and rattles, blowing tons of bubbles, still working on holding her head up, down to 5 meals per day with 4 naps

Evie got some good-bye snuggles from Mom-Mom (my mom) before we left Lancaster and headed back to the good ole ‘Burgh. LOVE!

Evangeline is two months old today!

Weight: 10.81 lb
Length: 22.5 inches

(Her appointment is next week… I’ll update this page when I have the details!)

New Skills: smiling, making cooing and squealing sounds, recognizing Momma’s voice, sleeping through the night (started at 5.5 weeks!)

It’s been 10 days since Evangeline was born, so it seems appropriate to get the story of her birthday typed up before it fades from my mind. Some of it already has, so Joel helps me to fill in the blanks. I’ll do my best to keep this from becoming NSFW, but if I do get to the graphic parts, I’ll warn you like this: **TMI ALERT**

When Joel and I went to bed on Wednesday, April 27, I turned to him and said, “I think we have about a week left until this thing happens.” He looked at me and said, “Yeah?” I nodded, very sure of myself, and said, “Yep.” Two hours later, I woke up having contractions.

To be honest, it didn’t cross my mind that what I was feeling were contractions. I just felt a little sick to my stomach, a little crampy. It wasn’t until around 3 am when I couldn’t fall back to sleep because it was beginning to hurt a bit that I considered that the pain was recurring at regular intervals. Thinking that I was probably just imagining things, I pulled up the contraction counter app on the iPad and started tracking. Within 10 minutes, I could see a pattern forming. The pain was recurring every 3 to 5 minutes and lasting about 30 seconds at a time. I remember thinking, This is so weird. I cannot believe this could be it.

I woke Joel up to let him know that I thought I was in labor at about 3:30. We chatted a bit about what it was feeling like and decided to call the hospital to speak to the midwife on call. After explaining what was happening, she agreed that it sounded like I was in labor, but, since the contractions were so short, she recommended that I keep tracking them, watch for my water breaking, and check back in after a few hours. I tried to go back to sleep, but every time I started to relax enough to fall asleep, another contraction rolled around and woke me back up. By 4 or so, I was awake for good.

To pass the time, I played games on the iPad while I sat on an exercise ball that we borrowed from Nicole & Jimmy. Birthing classes taught us that moving through the contractions helps the baby to move down into proper position, so I concentrated on the slow, deep breathing techniques and keeping my hips moving through each contraction. It wasn’t easy, but the pain wasn’t too bad yet. Looking back, it was really more like bad stomach ache… more uncomfortable and intense than “broke my leg” pain (Not that I know what that would feel like, I’ve never broken a bone).

By 7 am, labor was definitely picking up. Contractions were still short, only between 30 and 45 seconds each, but they were recurring every 2 and a half to 3 minutes apart. Every once in a while, I got a 4 or 5 minute break between, but they were mostly very regular. I was also pretty sure that my water had broken. No giant gushing like you see in movies… That doesn’t happen to most women. I called the hospital again to update the midwife on call about what was going on. She said that we should definitely come in by 11 am, but that we were welcome to come in any time between now and then. I wanted to wait as long as possible to go in because I didn’t want to sit in a tiny triage room for like 3 hours while waiting for labor to progress enough to get us into a more comfortable labor & delivery room. I also wanted to eat a good breakfast since I had no idea of when I would be allowed to eat again after I was admitted into the hospital. Once you are in, it’s ice chips and ginger ale only until after delivery.

I made myself a blueberry bagel and ate it between contractions. Joel seemed a bit antsy, so he packed up the car with our bags, washed some dishes, and picked up around the house. Contractions started getting a bit more intense for me, with the more painful ones being followed by hot flashes and nausea. Apparently, pregnancy and vomit go together very well. **Possible TMI ALERT** At least the barf tasted like my bagel, so it wasn’t that bad. I know, I am gross. But in the scope of what I was dealing with, you have to relish the small victories. And yes, I consider barf that doesn’t taste horrible to be a small victory. Deal with it.

After Joel picked me up off the bathroom floor, where I was lying in a puddle of sweat, I started feeling better. Contractions were just as intense, but the nausea didn’t come back. Joel got a few things together and headed to Murrysville to drop Roxy at Walker’s Pet Hotail, where she would remain for the duration of our hospital stay. He had a few other quick stops to make, and then returned home. I passed that time slowly, trying to distract myself from the contractions by watching the remake of The Karate Kid on Netflix. Don’t ask me why I picked The Karate Kid as my in-labor movie… It was there in the queue, and I clicked on it. After only 10 minutes or so, I could tell distraction wasn’t working, and the contractions were becoming so strong that I was having trouble keeping my breathing nice and slow. I was really glad when Joel got home, just because having someone else in the room was comforting. He sat next to me on the couch and encouraged me through each round, and reminded me to breath and relax. It’s amazing how having someone to say the obvious to you is so helpful. I threw up again. Awesome.

At 10, we decided it was time to head to Magee. I was having trouble making the decision, because I was really worried that I would get there and they would tell me that I was only like 3 cm dilated (the goal is 10 cm, for those of you who have no reason to know this kind of stuff). It seemed easier not to know how much further I had to go. The ride to the hospital seemed bumpier than usual, and I could tell that Joel was feeling the stress of everything. Contractions came really quickly during the car ride, probably because of the stress, and Joel started to get worried that we weren’t going to make it in time. Fortunately, he didn’t mention that little tidbit to me at the time.

When we got to the hospital, we debated on parking. Magee has valet service especially for times like this, but I was certain that I wasn’t as far along as Joel thought. I figured I was being a baby and that the contractions I was feeling were really not that bad. So, we parked the car in the garage, and we walked in. Registration at triage took only a few minutes, but I had to pause three times for contractions that I couldn’t talk through. Though it seems silly now, I felt embarrassed that I couldn’t just “grin and bear it” in front of the people in triage. We got all the paperwork done, and they got me into a tiny triage room. Once I got myself situated on the bed, the hot flashes and nausea returned. I had barely gotten myself into a hospital gown when I had to get myself to the attached bathroom to throw up again. Oye. It was getting exhausting to keep myself upright, but, Joel kept up his string of encouragements, and I was able to stick it out a bit longer.

After a while, one of the midwives arrived to do my first check. I was already 5 cm! That was a “holy crap” moment for me for a few reasons. First, 5 cm sounds like half-way to 10 cm, but it’s not. It’s actually more like two-thirds, average labor time wise. So, I was more than half way done with labor… Second, it meant that this was the real thing. No turning back… No “false labor” or confusion. This was IT. And third, I had made it this far without any medication. Sure, getting an epidural had crossed my mind a few times, but it hadn’t been so bad that I thought I needed the meds in order to handle it.

There wasn’t a labor & delivery room available for me since it was a very busy day, so the nurses and midwives arranged for me to use the hot tub room while we waited. The water was hotter than I expected, but it was a relief to be somewhere other than that awful triage room with the hard mattress. The contractions were very painful at this point… a mix of what seemed like the worst gas pain of my life and lower back cramping. It wasn’t what I expected labor to feel like. I had expected it to be must more physical, more athletic-feeling. Instead of muscles pain, it was much more mental… the biggest struggle was deciding that I could handle the next contraction, waiting it out, and then deciding again that I could handle the next one. Having Joel’s encouragement was a huge part of my ability to keep going.

The midwives stopped in every 15 minutes or so to check on Evie’s heart rate during contractions to make sure everything was still going smoothly and she wasn’t in distress. We stayed in the hot tub room for about 45 minutes, which started to get a bit long for me. I got a bit overheated with each contraction (fortunately without the nausea I’d had before), so Joel spent the majority of the time fanning me with a stack of papers or blowing cool air on my neck. As time passed, I started feeling what people call “the urge to push.” I wouldn’t necessarily use that phrase… It wasn’t so much of an “urge” like “oh I think I might push now” as much as an “urge” like “whether you like it or not, my body is pushing this kid out.” It was mentally and physically exhausting, to say the least, to keep myself from pushing. It was like everything in me was trying to make me doing something I wasn’t ready to do… After all, the midwives had told me not to push while I was in the hot tub. I started getting a little worried that I wasn’t going to be able to hold off. The midwives finally showed up again, and I tried to explain, during the 30 seconds or less between intense 90-second contractions, what I was feeling, but it seemed like they didn’t really believe me. Still, they got me out of the water, and we headed back to my triage room, much to my dismay, since there was still no l&d room available. They assured me I was “at the top of the list,” but, seriously, what does that mean to me at this point.

Back in triage, they checked me again, and I was fully dilated at 10 cm, which meant I was as ready to go as I had felt. Within a few minutes, we had a room in l&d, and I was in the much more comfortable bed. I, however, was not comfortable. Ha. Seriously. There is a reason they call it labor. This is where it gets awful and graphic, so I will spare you the NSFW details of pushing and delivery. 12 hours of labor and 30 minutes of pushing later, Evangeline Day was born at 3:24 pm.

7 pounds, 10 ounces
20 inches

The time immediately after delivery went in slow motion. The nurse placed her up on my chest, and I just stared at the back of this tiny head all fuzzy with unexpectedly dark hair. I remember thinking, “Holy crap. That’s her.” I looked up at Joel, and he looked at me. I think we were both thinking the same thing.

Holy. Crap.

The next stuff was a blur… like the slow motion stuff stopped and fast forward began. I barely remember anything from Thursday after getting transferred from l&d into our postpartum room. We don’t have family that lives close enough to get here the day of, so we were on our own for the rest of the day. There were a lot of blood pressure and temperature checks for both Evie and me, and a lot of texting and phone calls for Joel.

Friday was busier. We had visitors all throughout the day, plus a visit from the hospital-contracted photographer (Bella Baby), to keep us pretty busy. It was a bit overwhelming, but it was nice to be distracted from the absolute weirdness that is suddenly having a baby.

We had hoped to be discharged on Saturday by mid-morning, but at around 5 am, a doctor from the NICU came by to talk to us about Evie’s health. Her bilirubin level was higher than they like to see, which resulted in jaundice, and they were worried about it getting worse. They let us know that they wouldn’t be discharging her that day as planned. After a few hours of back and forth, they told us that they were still discharging me from the hospital, but that I could probably stay with Evie if they could get her into the NICU for treatment. I was hopeful, because the thought of going home and leaving her there was almost unbearable. I had pictured that moment of us leaving the hospital hundreds of times… I never pictured that we would leave the hospital without her.

Another hour or so passed, and we got the verdict. Evie was going to be treated in the nursery, and we couldn’t stay with her. I was really sad that we wouldn’t be able to stay; although, I was happy that she wasn’t serious enough to need the NICU. The plan to treat the jaundice was 24-36 hours of UV phototherapy, which required her to be placed in an incubator in the nursery. We weren’t permitted to sit with her in there, so we had to be content to watch her through the window in the hallway. We were also permitted to have her out of the incubator for 30 minutes every 3 hours to feed her, but we had to keep a portable “bili blanket” (a glowing plate that slips under her clothes on her back). One of the midwives was nice enough to take a camera into the nursery to snap a few photos of Evie in treatment for us.

We hung around in our room as long as possible, even though technically we had been discharged mid-morning. Having the room meant a quiet place to nurse as well as a “home base” for our parents and other family members who had made it in to see us. Still, by dinner time, we needed to vacate the room. Joel and I decided head back to our house to eat the dinner that my sister Kelley and Joel’s mom were preparing. We intended to get back to the hospital by 10 pm, which meant that Evie would only need one formula feeding. (Nothing against formula… I just wanted her to get as much breast milk as possible for all those delicious antibodies.) The plan was to get back for the 10 pm feeding and stick around for the next one at 1 am, then head back to the house for a few hours, and get back to Magee in time for the first daytime feeding at around 7 am.

Due to traffic in the tunnels, we missed the 10 pm feeding, which meant we missed our chance to spend time with her until 1 am. I was pretty sad about that, so I asked and got permission to have Evie out of the phototherapy incubator for 15 minutes. I was glad to get that time. It seems weird now, but I think because she’d never been away from me before, it felt weird not to have immediate access to her whenever I wanted. After the 1 am feeding, we headed home as planned, got a few hours of sleep, and made it back in time for breakfast. We got some good news, that her bilirubin levels had gone down a bit, and she would likely be discharged later in the day (Sunday). Since the tests came back with good results, she didn’t have to be under the UV lights anymore, which meant we got to have her with us in a patient lounge area all day. After lunch, our parents headed back east, and we packed up our daughter for her trip home.

And now you know the story! Don’t you feel so much better?