My Ebenezer

This is a short version of Eden's birth story, a little of my recovery, and how we chose her name. Birth Story and Recovery (the rosy, less messy version): We had planned a c-section for November 15, due to my having had 2 prior c-sections--the magic number when it comes to the possibility of natural birth, at least with my set of doctors.  During the final weeks of pregnancy I was becoming increasingly uncomfortable and ready to give birth, so I started praying that I'd go into labor on my own.  I didn't really think it would happen, in part because Noah and Seth were both born on their due dates, and my c-section was scheduled for the 15th, two days prior to my due date. Thursday, November 10 started out normally. I did a major grocery shopping trip, cleaned out and vacuumed our car, put away clutter, and mopped the kitchen floor (nesting much?).  I then laid down propped myself up for a short nap.  When I woke up at 3pm, I felt a little crampy, so I decided to ha

"Like arrows in the hand of a warrior, so are the children of one's youth. How blessed is the man whose quiver is full of them; They will not be ashamed when they speak with their enemies in the gate." Psalm 127:4-5 I used to wonder how a person could know when their quiver was full.  I'd overhear moms conversing at the park. Always nonchalant, but always adamant, as if the choice were really up to them; "Oh, we are so done.  No more kids for us." I'd puzzle over that for a while because no matter how hard I tried, I just couldn't relate.  All I've ever known through my married life is the pining after children.  One, then two, then a third.  I thought I would never be satisfied, like the barren womb in Proverbs which never cries, "Enough!"  I thought that I'd always want one more.  Even when I was pregnant with Noah and then with Seth, I'd feel pangs of heartache at the thought that this could be the last time I'

Way to leave a blog mid-story and go dark for 6 months, right? I have no excuse for myself except to say let's just pick up and move on, shall we?  It would help me if I didn't have to recap all of what has happened in the last half year. The Lord answered those prayers way back in March, and I'm now almost 7 months pregnant with...a baby GIRL!  I can't begin to tell you how excited we are to welcome a girl into our family in mid-November, Lord-willing. And now, let's get back to what this blog has been about: sharing my thoughts, events, and lessons learned. Stay tuned!

This is a story all about the miraculous power of our God.  I've been dwelling on Psalm 104 some lately, and yesterday I saw it played out in real life. "[Man and the animals] all wait for You to give them their food in due season. You give to them, they gather it up; You open Your hand, they are satisfied with good. You hide Your face, they are dismayed; You take away their spirit, they expire and return to the dust. You send forth Your Spirit, they are created; and You renew the face of the ground ."  Ps. 104:27-30 Yesterday I had my embryo transfer.  It did not start out on a good note.  Dr. W. pulled us into his office for the usual pre-transfer briefing, and before we had even sat down, he matter-of-factly stated that we only had one remaining embryo out of my 4 that were doing well last Friday.  "So, Joanna, we'll just transfer the one today, Joanna."  He likes to use my name copiously in every conversation.  Josh and I joke about it

As of this morning we were in the middle of an IVF cycle, and then, like a really good dream, it was cancelled this afternoon just when it was getting to the good part. I was already prepared for everything we needed to do next; miraculously I was even mentally ready to give myself the monster shots they call progesterone, and then to eagerly await Monday's transfer and the long-awaited PUPO (Pregnant Until Proven Otherwise) status. I knew when I saw the nurse's number pop up on my phone that this would not be a good call.  I was right. "Your progesterone levels are already too high," she said.  Her voice was lacking its familiar cheerful sound. "I"m very sorry. We're going to have to cancel this cycle." She began telling me what to do next, which surprisingly still included giving myself those dreadful shots.  I was in a fog.  Surely she didn't just tell me to start the shots tomorrow!  But she did. All so we can clean the slate and start a