Resurrecting the old blog for the official birth story and slide show of Wyatt John Grappe

  This birth story starts two years before we actually had a birth. My husband and I had been married 3 years and wanted to start a family. We tried for several months without any luck. Anyone who tries to get pregnant and doesn’t knows how discouraging this is.  The mental battle that usually accompanies this set of circumstances is equally difficult to deal with. It doesn’t matter if its months or years…it still messes with you in some way. We kept pursing a family until I became severely ill with Guillain-Barre Syndrome. It’s an auto-immune disease that attacks the peripheral nervous system and myelin sheath that covers every nerve in your body.  I went from running a half marathon in the previous months to being in a wheelchair and struggling to put one foot in front of the other for the next 10 months. My autonomic system was also affected and my heart and lungs struggled to regulate my heart rate, blood pressure, and oxygen intake.  I was in my senior year at Texas Tech and after missing a month of school; I took my finals in a wheelchair barely able to hold a pencil. I was on my own with my husband and family waiting for my body to heal itself. It left me with chronic nerve pain in my legs, arms, hands and feet, and loss of coordination to do very basic tasks. It was hard to write, hard to move my legs. My body became severely disabled. For months, the most that I could do in a day was to take a shower. The light at the end of the tunnel for me was to be a mom. So I started physical therapy to help learn how to walk correctly again. My body failed to function in any way reminiscent of my old life.  It always felt like one step forward and ten steps back. I had to quit school and dedicate all my time to healing my body. My biggest motivator was being healthy enough to start a family.

  In this year, I educated myself on everything that involved the birth process. I read birth stories, books, research, medical literature, and case studies. I joined support groups for people with Guillain-Barre Syndrome and got in touch with women that had the disease and went on to have children. I wanted to know what their births looked like. What I found was that every woman I contacted was either induced or had scheduled cesareans, most while being put completely under general anesthesia, even if they weren’t technically “high-risk”, their doctors weren’t comfortable with their condition and just didn’t trust their bodies. There is also a small risk of relapse with epidural anesthesia.  So with all this information, I knew it was extremely important to get off of pain medications for my chronic nerve pain, and to find a doctor that I could trust and would trust me and to be considered low risk in other aspects of my health. After much research,  I knew the safest way for me to have a child was to do it naturally. The thought of being back in a wheelchair and not being able to brush my hair again terrified me. I had one relapse before and a second one would be even more devastating. I did not want to go back there…no matter how small the risk. This was a choice I was not willing to gamble and see how my body reacts to medications on the day of the birth.

  This led me to one of my best friend’s, Deborah who was also our birth photographer, brother-in-law, who had just moved back to Lubbock and started practicing medicine. His wife had natural births, one hospital birth and one at a birth center with a midwife and doula. She was also very passionate about birth practices in America and was really instrumental to build my confidence in my body as I followed her fearless journey to becoming a mother. I knew Dr. Brinker (Jared) was familiar with midwifery research and more supportive of a natural delivery than the average doctor. In a lot ways, I feel like his wife pioneered the way for a lot of us to achieve natural births with him. I really trusted him because he advocates for natural births, not just because of the emotional and physical benefits for the mother and baby, but because of conviction. And lets face it, conviction is the only reason a lot of us do the right thing even when we don’t want to.  Conviction is why women choose to birth their babies naturally, it’s also why we climb and fight every breastfeeding obstacle to keep feeding our babies. It’s not for an award, bragging rights, or a pat on the back. Its truly because we were led to that decision with so much thought and research.

  Our first appointment was a pre-pregnancy counseling visit, to just see if my body was well enough to handle a pregnancy. I honestly expected to hear, “ its too soon” or  “I think you should wait awhile longer.” He came in with a stack of literature, case studies, and information almost an inch thick about Guillain-Barre Syndrome with pregnancy. The visit ended with…” I’m pretty confident that you can do this…now go get pregnant!”

 

  Of course the perfect pale pink lines were the most relieving and wonderful things I had seen in the last year after dramatically changing my diet to support fertility and all the work I had put into recovering my body.  The pregnancy was pretty uneventful and actually really easy compared to women that I know. The nerve pain became almost unbearable which landed me into a chiropractor’s office and ultimately landed me a really good friend as well. Dr. Hillman (Jenna) treated the nerve pain with cold-laser therapy, essential oils, and adjustments. The pain became so much more manageable until the last trimester where I needed therapy every day to function. I refused to take any medication and take the risk of it harming my child. I’m pretty proud of the fact that I didn’t take anything besides vitamins and supplements the entire pregnancy.

 

At 38 weeks, I had started labor. I labored for 24 hours at home with my doula, Ashli. My contractions would be consistent and then taper off and then pick back up. They were all over the place. My doula was suspicious that his positioning wasn’t right and that’s what was causing the irregularity. We did everything to encourage our son to move : walking, belly sifting, essential oils on my back, side laying,  sitting on the ball. Jenna even came to my house to adjust me and put essential oils on my ligaments and stretch them to help them release. My body was physically spent and I couldnt do it anymore. So my doula thought we may try to get him out of my pelvis to let him re-engage in a better position. She said it could be hours, days, or weeks before he tried again. So we did inversion for an hour in my living room and he totally backed out of my pelvis. My contractions gradually went away in the next few hours and I slept for 20 hours, only waking to eat or use the bathroom. Jenna lasered my legs again because they were killing me after the whole episode.  This whole scenario, I was so thankful I didnt run to the hospital at the first sight of contractions. If I didn’t have a great birth team, I could have ended up with pitocin, artificial rupture of membranes, and most likely a forcep, vacuum,  or cesarean delivery because my son wasn’t in a good position. This is the exact opposite of the birth that my heart longed for and feared that my body couldn’t adequately recover from.

  I had contractions on and off the next two weeks. And my next appoinment revealed that my body made big progress from the prodromal labor…by the way, I deeply resent the fact that they call it “false labor”.  Some of the most abrasive things come out of my mouth when people call it that. I mean…come on…false? Labor? Pff…so I guess jogging isn’t really running then?

  So at 39 weeks 6 days. I had the most ironic conversation of my life. I was lying in bed talking with my older brother when he was worried and asked me what happened if I didn’t have Wyatt tomorrow. I said “nothing”. Haha! He was asking me about when women’s water break and rushing to the hospital. I explained to him how rare it was for a women to actually have their water break before labor begins and how you don’t typically run to the hospital if it does unless the baby isn’t full term or if the fluid has meconium. He was baffled by this information because the closest thing he has ever seen to labor were dramatic scenes from movies. We laughed together and wished each other a good day. So we hung up the phone and I prayed. You know those desperate prayers you send up at the end of pregnancy just because you are so DONE being pregnant, “Please Lord, can this be the last day that I heavy breathe on my walk to the bathroom.”  I do the tidal wave roll out of bed and as soon as my feet hit the ground…my water broke. It was 10 am. I died laughing.

   I called my husband who was on his way to our farm. I will never forget that phone call…awaiting the arrival of the first child has so much anticipation tied to it. It felt like we had been waiting forever. Not to mention that since the prodromal labor episode…my husband had been looking at me like a loaded weapon every minute of the day. We were ready. 

  We checked in with our doctor, doula, and chiropractor…let everyone know it was baby day. I wasn’t having any contractions so we just hung out for our last few hours together just the two of us. Brewed some fresh Red Raspberry Leaf Tea. We had a lovely lunch, got a redbox, met my chiropractor to get adjusted one more time. It was 5 hours before any contractions occurred. The fluid was clear, and my son was moving so I knew we were okay. I started having contractions at 3pm but weren’t hard enough to call my doula yet. So I just bounced and rocked on a birthing ball and listened to worship music in my bedroom.  Around 5, I felt like I should do some walking to get this labor thing going.  So my husband and I walked up and down our street and my contractions picked up to around 5 minutes apart and about a minute long. Our neighbors had been watching me shamelessly “curb walk” for two weeks previously to try to get this baby out. This time I was actually in labor and had some funny conversations with them in between contractions. I texted Ashley and thought it was time for her to join me.  So she came close to 6 to walk, talk, and put counter pressure on my sacrum during contractions.  I asked mark to go get us all some chik-fil-a because I thought it would be awhile before I wanted to eat, silly rookie laboring woman decision.  In the meantime, one of my best friends is a nurse/photographer ,who is also my doctor’s sister-in-law, this is Deborah, was canceled to work that night. So she came to shoot our birth and came to our house quick enough to advise me to not eat a lot of food, good call Deb…good call. My contractions were 2-3 minutes apart and a minute long, but were not being exactly consistent. My doula was pretty sure that Wyatt’s head wasn’t sitting right on my cervix and that we should try different positions during contractions. We later found out that she was right.  My contractions dramatically changed while I labored in my kitchen. I went from laughing and joking between contractions, to being totally annoyed with everything. I decided it was time to go to the hospital. So my husband loaded the truck and a few contractions later, we were there. For some reason, contractions were easier for me to get through with my eyes closed. I needed to turn the distractions off.

  So this is when my inner-mama-bear-crazy-lady came out. We arrived at the hospital and they were FULL.  It was a full moon, and the nurse made a comment about all the Christmas babies were being born. I wish that didn’t embarrass me as much as it did, thanks for calling me out lady. Anyways, they wanted to put me in triage, “check me”,  and make sure that I was in labor.  Things got a little wild west at this point…I refused for anyone to check me unless it was my doctor, and that I wasn’t stepping foot into the hospital unless I had my own room and was not going to triage… I mean…I’m leaking water. You think that would indicate that I’m in labor? So as stubborn as I am…I labored on the brick wall outside the hospital glass doors until my doctor got there to talk to some sense into somebody that needed it. When in reality, he is the most gentle and kind man, He has a such a pleasant demeanor that makes people listen to him. So with all my dignity and heels dug so deep into that concrete, I wasn’t moving.  So for 20 minutes, I made everyone set up shop with me outside until Jared got there.  I mean, I was so obviously in labor.  My husband holding all our belongings, I’m leaned over the brick wall laboring, my doula is rubbing my back, and my friend Deborah is standing there with her camera talking to Jared on the phone and filling him in.  I was prepared to have my child outside if I had to. At the time I didn’t feel like any of this was unreasonable. And lets just be really honest here…active labor isnt typically a woman’s shining moment of “reason”.

  Jared so politely got me into a room and it was such a rushed process for the hospital that it didn’t have a bed. I didn’t care though. My team set everything up and got situated while staff retrieved a bed and linens.  My doula started diffusing oils which was so amazing. She also called my chiropractor to come to the hospital because I was having intense nerve pain in my legs and needed her to work her magic. I had to have antibiotics for 15 minutes which I wasn’t thrilled about but when it was over I was not restricted or hooked up to anything.  I consented to be checked and found out that I was 6cm and fully effaced. So whats a women that’s free to labor however she wants in the walls of a hospital to do? Get in the dang shower. Let me tell you, I could not get in there quick enough. The hot water felt amazing and I didn’t want to leave. It took some acrobatics to fit in that tiny shower, which I was good at because of all the practice I had trying to shave my legs those last few weeks. My doula was putting counter pressure on my sacrum, and my chiropractor held the water handle directly on my back.  Can I get an amen to water birth? These hospitals need to get with the times. I would have done anything to be completely submerged in that water. 

  This bliss was short lived because we kind of flooded the bathroom, such a bummer. It was also at this time that I hurled into the sink. Chik-fil-A was bad choice.  Note to self: Maybe something lighter next time we start labor.

  I went to the bed and did some side laying. Goodness gracious, this was the hardest part of my whole labor.  My doula was massaging my feet with oils and maneuvering my right leg during contractions.  While this made my contractions a lot more effective, I did not like her for it.  My husband had my hand in one and a barf bag in the other. The contractions were so intense at that time that it was so hard to be still. I remember just wanting to get out of my body, but all I could do was lay in a fetal position. Too painful to move, too painful to stay still.

  My nurse came in ever so often to listen to Wyatt’s heart beat for awhile. All was well, and I knew it was. Instinct is such a powerful gift.  I HAD to move from that position and we raised the back of the bed so that I could hang over the back and sit on my knees. This was the ticket.  I was not budging. They would have to pry my hands from the cushion with a crow bar to get me to move.

   I must have sounded like a broken record because at almost every contraction, I said, “ Im going to throw up”. And I did…one more time.  My doulas was so encouraging and kept telling me that it was okay to throw up because it would help release my pelvic floor and facilitate further dilation.  Jared came in and asked to check me as it had been a few hours and I was in hard labor. And apparently I said okay, but when he went to…I may have swung at him.  Now, granted…it was during a contraction and it is my personal opinion that a woman is not responsible for any violent act during a contraction. He apologized and backed up, while my doula and chiropractor laughed at my response.  I did let him check me, and I was 7 cm and he was a -1 station. I literally cussed.  I thought…”All that work and im only a 7!” I asked ashli to repeat what he said because I was in disbelief. And she told me and I cussed again. I asked her several times, “ when is this going to be over?” and “how much longer?”. To which she replied with, “ as long as it takes, you’re doing so great.” I don’t like vague answers, especially associated to time.  I remember looking at Jenna and saying…” I don’t think I can do this!”

  It’s funny though. I didn’t mean it. But it somehow made me feel better to say what I was thinking.  Jenna looked me square in the face and firmly said, “ you are doing it, and you will do it”. I really needed her voice in that moment. That “ buck up and get it done” voice.

  I labored longer, and at 1:30 am I felt Wyatt move down. I felt pressure and asked for Jared to check me again. I was 8 and zero station.  SERIOUSLY! SERIOUSLY????!! COME ON!

  He leaves, and at 1:40, I’m like...” um, I’m having a baby. Someone get him back down here.” Deborah calls him and tells him that I’m asking for him. He comes back, and I was 10 and +3 station. PRAISE GOD!  

  I hear everyone getting ready, and I have no urge to push. Not. At. All. So I didn’t.  Everyone told me that I could push anytime now, and when I felt ready. Well, I wasn’t.  I thought ,” nah im good…lets just hang out.” I kind of freaked out, and thought lets try some hypnobabies…I’ll just breathe him down…breathe him on down. I have no hypnobabies training.  Maybe it was stage fright. We could all see his head, but I was so not motivated to push. 45 minutes of breathing down, and the violent rush of automatic-no-control-waves hit me.  I could not stop the push if I tried! I just collapsed into a turtle position during each contraction and my body pushed so hard. I would crawl back up the bed and bury my face in the cushions, and collapse down again.  I pushed 4 or 5 times, and jared supported Wyatts head, quickly unwrapped the cord around his neck,  and passed him straight through my legs to me.  I was in total shock and awe. I could not believe that I did it. I PUSHED MY BABY OUT! My son, Wyatt John Grappe was born at 2:39 AM.  I got to just sit there and hold him, look at him, take him in, examine his little body. He was so alert! I was smitten. The nurse cleared his nostrils and gave me a blanket which I threw down. I wanted him on my skin and to rub in his vernix. We did delayed cord clamping, and it was around 15 minutes before it stopped pulsing and Mark cut the cord. GIVE MY BABY HIS BLOOD! I lay down with him and we did the belly crawl.  We placed Wyatt on my belly and he literally pushed and crawled up to my chest and latched himself to nurse! It was the most magical thing I’ve ever seen! He nursed so well and there wasn’t any busyness in the room. While I nursed, my chiropractor lasered my legs.  Everyone waited on us and admired him with us until we were ready to have him weighed, measured, and given a physical examination.  It was at almost 2 hours. I loved that we weren’t rushed; the staff just followed our cues and worked around us.  He was 8 pounds and 7 ounces, and 21 ¼ inches long. His head circumference was 14 and a half inches. The nurse laughed at how big his head was, and I immediately thought…uh-oh. So when the damage was accessed, I was totally shocked to know that I had minimal tearing! Those “horse lips”, visualization, and relaxing my face during pushing paid off (thanks Ina May)!

  My son got his first adjustment at 2 hours old. He had a lump on the side of his head from not sitting on my cervix quite right. The nurses explained that he may bruise and it would take a few days to go down. Well my fabulous chiropractor worked her magic and within 15 minutes, he lump was totally gone and never bruised.

  The after birth endorphins are no joke. I felt like a truck hit me, but I had so much energy! So much energy that I was awake for another 24 hours on the hormone high! I showered, and let my husband have some alone time with our son. Got ready for the day and enjoyed all of our visitors the rest of the day telling the story of how amazing my birth was and how amazing our son was.  Our son stayed with us the whole time in the hospital. We were able to co-sleep with him and nurse as much as he wanted and needed in the hospital. Those days and nights were so important for me to learn his cues and how to respond to him.  I was not bothered frequently, which I was so grateful for.

  So after the birth, my body freaked out for a bit. Upon standing the day after I gave birth, my heart rate was totally out of range. The nurses kept thinking they were getting a false reading.  I stayed for 3 days and wasn’t able to walk long distances. I was tachycardic and short of breath for the next few weeks with little exertion. I knew what to be aware of in the case of a relapse so we just kept a watchful eye out.  I had a follow up appointment with my neurologist after Wyatt was born to check in and see how my body was reacting.

My body eventually chilled out and about 3 months later I felt like I had my bearings again. 

  It’s so hard to put into words the amount of appreciation I feel for my birth team. My doctor is also my friend. My doula is my friend. My chiropractor is my friend. My photographer is one of my best friends.  My husband is my best friend. All of these people had complete faith in my body to do what it was made to do. The whole 6 hours someone was comforting me, massaging me, applying pressure, talking to me, helping me, making me laugh, or focusing my energy. My faith waivered at times. Totally stricken with fear. I needed each of them to draw strength from.  This experience developed a confidence in my body that I never knew existed. Giving birth, and doing it naturally, was so healing.  I have never felt more empowered, more proud, more like a woman than that day. I would give birth 10 more times the exact same way if I could. It was magical.

So friends…a disclaimer…birth is beautiful…but its not always pretty. Here is the promised video.

Birth of Wyatt Grappe from michal grappe on Vimeo.

The first day that me, Michelle Grape, could have...

So, I started my second semester back at school on Wednesday. I was pretty relieved to be busy again, and was looking forward to my first day back. I always have a little bit of anxiety about the first class meeting though. There is always an oral roll call, and usually the teachers make you tell them and the class something "unique" about yourself. This first hour of every class never gets easier. The first mental debate that I have is...do i tell them something real? or do I make a wild story up? or do I go for the funny? or do i say something awkward just because that would funny to? Because my name doesn't come up until the "G's" always buys me a little time. So I listen to other people tell awkward stories about their boyfriend, or their grandma that passed away over Christmas break. REALLY? thats the foot you want to lead with? I always feel so AWKWARD...as a spectator and as a listener!

The second mental debate that takes place is, are the going to say my name right? Answer: NOPE! NEVER! I get called everything but Michal, and everything but Grappe. I get michelle, mykel, michel, grape, grappy. So after every teacher sounds out my name and looks around confused in the sea of faces starring back at them. Me, blonde, girl raise my hand. So immediately i have to explain my name because they have a look on their face full of question marks. I usually respond with, Michael but without the "e", and Crap but with a "g". This happened 3 times on day one. One of my professors is Korean, and i knew immediately she would especially struggle with my name so i was watching her stare at my name in confusion. After I explained to her my name situation, she responds with...." I had no idea Michael was gender neutral".I tried to say that it's from the bible, but she didn't acknowledge it. Then says, " Are you okay with that?" I laughed along with the other 70 people in my class. Because for the people in my class, this was their 3rd time to go through my name dilemma that day as well. Anyways...long story short....The name Michal Grappe is a bia for me and everyone involved when it comes to the beginning of school.

So, in between the classes their was a mini break. I was able to go home and get some more coffee which i needed because I dont know if yall remember? but the high was like 22 degrees!? I'm dressed cute, and was actually running a smidgen late because of this little cup of coffee that I wanted to brew so badly. Im in the parking lot. Have my bags, door open, and i reach for this little cup of coffee that i waited so patiently for. And....the....lid...falls...off. Coffee covered me in places i never thought was possible.NEVER. THOUGHT. So i stand outside and had images of myself throwing the cup and shattering it into a million pieces. I thought to myself, "yes that would make me feel better, to have some revenge on this stupid cup." I looked around but there was nowhere to throw the cup to release my anger. I could feel the moisture starting to freeze onto my body, it was so cold outside. I assessed the damage and realized there is no possible way that i can walk into my first day of class looking like i peed and pooped my pants. I look in my backseat and see some gym clothes and Mark's north face jacket.

Let me just say, this was the first time in my life that i saw gym clothes and it brought a smile to my face. Usually, the look of dread consumes me.

I changed clothes in the parking lot and walked into class not dressed cute anymore and reeking of coffee. This is the kind of day i need to learn to expect, just because these days lurk around frequent corners in my life. I'm just glad that I can laugh at these stories and remind myself of how bad it can get when i have those "WHHYYYYYY!!!!!?????????" days.

Robert? You named it Robert??

So, I have been happily married to an incredible man with immense integrity, not to mention his striking good looks, for almost 2 years. This man has been in my life for a total of 7 years and 6 of them in a committed relationship. I can tell you that smell of blueberry muffins and chocolate chip cookies make him elated to be home. His favorite things to do are all outside. You know, the manly things--hunting, fishing, spitting, golf, building, mowing, that are due to being raised by an excellent outdoorsman. Its in his blood. I know that he never wears his seatbelt, drinks so much dr. pepper that he probably sweats it from his pores, cannot stand to sit still, and has a consistent diet of meat--all meat, any meat, and grimaces at the mention of anything being "healthy". The first and last thing he watches every single day and night is sports center. I know which shows to record for him on DVR and which ones not to cancel when it interferes with my recordings. I know that he was a ninja for every halloween of his childhood that his mom would let him and he was the first and last grandchild that Grandfather ever spanked ( it only happened once and Grandfather swore he would never do it again). His favorite memory of disney world was the indiana jones show in which he begged for an arrowhead necklace. He bear crawled as an infant, and had his first girlfriend at mothers day out. I thought...after the novel of life stories that i know about this man, I know every thing about him.

Then, I was recently informed that as a very very very small boy mark had a teddy bear that he/himself/alone named "Robert". I mean, Robert?? really? you named it Robert??

Weird. Zombie. Holocaust Day

So today was weird. I drove to school with the attitude of dread. I was thinking how terrible it was that I had to go school in this kind of weather, when all I want to do is stay inside and maybe read a book while listening to the rain. It was cold, wet, and foggy. While I was driving, I recalled the last time that I saw a day like this. It was in a zombie movie. So i imagined myself driving to class and zombies running across the road and stopping moving cars. I got so caught up in this story in my head, thinking about how awesome it would be if there were really were zombies taking over lubbock, texas so that I wouldn't have to go to class. I wished it were true. Then I quickly snapped out of it, and realized how psychotic that sounded. I thought, Do i really hate this class that much? and the answer was yes.

My day proceeded to get even more strange when I was in that class, and we were discussing the holocaust. There are 11 people in the class, so it is pretty intimate. However, we don't know each other very well. So unfortunately, questions asked by the teacher usually are unintentionally rhetorical. It's common for it to be dead silent, which is probably has something to with why I hate this class so much.

Anyways, the teacher was talking about concentration camps. But instead of saying " concentration camps", she said, " consummation camps" during her lecture. If this had been in any other class, I would have laughed...probably out loud. But instead, I smiled to myself and looked around to see if anyone else was catching what she was saying. No one else seemed to have the same reaction that I did and my teacher continued the lecture each time saying "consummation camps" . Each time, I would smirk and lightly laugh and no one else did. LAME...

Education plan

So i am still in college. Its been almost 4 years since i graduated high school. That statement freaks me out. I don't feel like I'm old enough!! I am wrapping up my education degree and for about a year now have felt like I can do bigger and better things. I have been 200% about my education degree. I talked to God about, and we were cool with that decision. So I pushed the gas, and haven't let up at all until about a year ago, I felt like God was telling me to put on the brakes and all of a sudden thought " RUH ROH, I don't think that I am supposed to be a teacher!"After much thought... much prayer...speech pathology always remained in the back of my mind. I kept coming back to it relentlessly. I would search other fields while trying to stay true to what I felt like my calling was. When I began this journey 4 years ago, I remember absolutely knowing that God gave me a gift to work with kids. So naturally, if i am pursuing further education, what degree do i go for?? Bachelors in Interdisciplinary Studies in Early Childhood Education. That's a mouthful for the simpler equivalent of a teacher. When i made this decision, I did not take into consideration a time when God told me I would work with special needs or impaired, but specifically deaf children. From the time I was able to read, I would always gravitate to the sections in bookstores about sign language. My mother and father had many many books teaching sign language that i would often take out our home library and read from such an early age. I never knew why I had an interest in it, but I knew I was supposed to. I remember when mark and I started dating, and he asked me what i thought my calling was. I told him, "kids, I'm supposed to be with kids and I have always felt like I was supposed to learn sign language. I don't know if it's because I will have a deaf child someday, or maybe that will be how I work with kids."
I am kind of pissed at myself for not staying true to that calling on my life but felt like I was doing what I was supposed to for the time being. Therefore, last year I made the official decision to get my Master's in Speech Language Pathology through the levelling program at Texas Tech, then Graduate School. So this semester was time for me to apply after much thought and conversations with my parents, my husband, husband's parents, and such. SO I am glad to say that I just submitted my application for the levelling program at Tech and without hesitation I will pursue this new road.
Now, how does working with deaf children tie into all of this? I didn't know at first and was just praying that it would be revealed to me. And this is what i found out. I was looking up PhD degrees with a masters in speech path, and at Texas Tech it is Audiology. WHAT!? How crazy! I have been blindly following the spirits tugs to here and then there and here again and there again. Today, I felt like I had a " clouds open up and the sun shines through with the sound of angels singing" moment. I know that I shouldn't be surprised because it's God, but I'M SURPRISED!!! I feel like I kind of know where I'm going now and it makes me excited even though I will still have many years of school. I know it is going to be H-A-R-D! But It's easy to keep your eyes on the prize when you are doing it for the glory of God.

Church Clothes

So tonight, I was trying to convince Lindsay (my little cousin, 8 years old) to pick out her church clothes by herself. I wanted her to do it alone because I would go in there and "help" her but all of the options I laid out would get vetoed. She would ultimately wear what she wanted. So, I figured...she could pick them out by herself. As I was sitting in the living room, she was in her bedroom staring at her closet. This is how it went:

L-" Should I wear long sleeve or short sleeve?"

M - "Long."

L - "Why?"

M - "Because it's going to be cold."

L - " Why is it going to be cold?"

M - " I dont know...it just is!"

L - " like...how cold?"

M - " I dont know! just...COLD!"

L - "Like freezing?"

M - "no!"

L - " Just a little bit cold or really cold or kind of cold?"

M - " i dont know...probably pretty cold."

L - " is pretty cold the same as really cold?"

My final response, " for the love of God..."

She picked out a dress with white tights and furry boots.

Food, Inc.

So, i have been recently introduced to a movie called Food, Inc. Its about the food industry and the government protection of that industry. It exposes the corruptness and inhumane treatment of the animals that we are to consume. I know what your thinking, " its an animal, they were made for us to eat...get over it", because I always said the same thing. I used to snub people who said things similar to that statement. I probably still would, just being honest. However, I was disgusted and repulsed by the way our meat market is ran. It made me mad more than anything just because I feel so powerless. Aside from the meat market, even the farming market is controlled to the -inth degree.

Anyway, this movie brought on a lot of reflection. I always played with the idea of eating "kosher" or "organic". I tried to be a vegetarian for a week, and about DIED! I lasted 7 days, and on the 8th day...I caved and ate burger. It was so hard!! Back to the kosher/organic thing, I have thought about it, but never really wanted to follow through with it because of the stigmatism attached to the label. I never wanted to be one of those "weird or radical" people that are members of PETA, wear eco-friendly clothes, and smoke organic cigarettes. Especially in texas, the only place it is semi-acceptable to locals is Austin. I am far from Austin and my husbands favorite meal is steak and potatoes. What's a girl to do?!! I also never wanted to be that person that constantly had to explain their eating beliefs at restaurants or group dinners.

Therefore, the only reason I am seriously considering changing my lifestyle is not because I am some PETA extremist, but because I have a growing conviction to continue to eat and support the monopoly that is taking advantage of the ignorance and avoidance of the American population about the food we are really eating. I have problems with exploitation of workers in the industry by these corporations. It just gets my blood pumping!

Im not saying that i'm fully committed. I'm on the fence, because i know it would be hard. I will likely start slow and gradually add a little more over an extended period of time.

This is the link for the trailer of the movie. I highly recommend this to anyone who eats food...so everyone :)

http://www.foodincmovie.com/