Pray for Stellan! Monday

It's just not fair. I can't help but be angry, frustrated, and even sick over this. Every time I share a moment with my own baby, (which is often, because let's face it he's clingy) I feel guilty (and then I pull him closer and thank God, and then grumble to Him a little.) I can't help but think MckMama should be able to do this too. I have been begging, pleading, and then asking God nicely to calm Stellan's heart, to heal him, to make him strong and resilient. Then I tried to rationalize with him. You see it was because of Stellan that I "came back home" so to speak, at least he was the final step that brought the idea from theological philosophy to practice, He got me praying... and not just for silly little things for my self, but fervently and for him. I have been speaking with God on a daily basis... "now why God, would you take that away," I reasoned. So, by the end of my long night my prayer became for God to please give Stellan, the opportunity to be as great a Man as he was an infant. The chance to bring so many others to God, and do amazing things. That's all I've got. So please pray for sweet Stellan, things have really taken the turn for the worse - but I'm not buying it. Like I said I'm angry, new, and raw... so I can't just find some eloquent way to say God will take care of it and mean it. I'm kind of screaming at him to, and I have a problem accepting the answer "No."

And a very merry half birth day to you..

See that? yep that's me with my preggo clone army when I was about 8 months pregnant with "little" Ori. I was also still riding a bike 8 miles a day to work... anywho...
Six months ago today my not so little third child made his exit from me and entered this world. When I think about it now I envision a caricature of myself bent over with legs spread in my bathtub. My face is twisted into some exhausted grimace as I grasp the tub’s edge, white knuckled and holding on for dear life as my companion and my midwife stand on each side of me – with one hand on my son’s cartoon-ishly large head, and a foot on their (my) respective butt cheek for leverage as they try to pull him out. The baby, of course, has a huge grin on his face - (because as everyone knows children plot against us… and he finds the whole thing hilarious.) and my mother is standing by with the oxygen tank. The whole ordeal seems rather humorous now.
Though I suppose it wasn’t so dramatic…
no one planted their feet on anyone’s butt cheeks.
Sometime close to noon the day previous to Ori A.'s arrival I suddenly felt the need to move all the furniture in my house around. I deny that this urge was nesting. Characteristically, I am a messy person and I knew that this baby was going to be here (hopefully soon) and I was going to have a lot more to deal with and I wanted to start off ahead, and I also kind of hoped that all the activity would start labor. So I spent the whole day in a (seriously until 2 in the morning) furniture moving, grout scrubbing, organizing, laundry doing/folding, bathroom bleaching frenzy. Then with some cramping (that I probably had all day but Braxton Hicks contractions were c.ra.zy through the whole pregnancy so I did not pay much attention to it) I decided it was time to try and get some sleep. I took a shower and decided I should try to spend some time with My Love because I had a feeling baby would be there (here) soon. I spent the rest of the night trying to sleep, and getting up, walking around because whatever pains I was having were too much to sleep through, then the nausea hit. It was awful and with it came diarrhea. The nausea and a fever lasted into the afternoon when I finally vomited and felt a little better. *lol* The My Love came to tell me goodbye since he was about to ride his bike far far away to tutor his middle school children. I told him he could not leave me, after a discussion of whether it was time, whether he would be able to get back in time, and how I did not feel capable of taking care of the children he called and rescheduled. After awhile it became apparent that I was actually in labor - terrible labor where all the contractions felt like end stage contractions. I spent my time walking around, and alternating between the bath, the shower, the rocking chair, and oh yeah screaming there was lots of screaming. Worst labor. EVER. Seriously the contractions never intensified right from the beginning it felt like those right before you can push contractions, that is until those contractions when, you know, I was pretty sure I was going to die, and/or something was terribly wrong... but I didn't want to look like a sissy so when the urge came (and it came often) to scream out what the f*** is wrong with you people take me to the hospital and cut this thing out of me I told myself to suck it up or at least keep quiet, you know, besides all the screaming. I told My Love that I wanted my mommy so he called her and let her know it was time to come (she took an eternity BTW, love you mom). Then eventually he called the idiot midwife who shall remain nameless. Active labor was filled with lots of screaming, crying, and giving up... I would even try to stop breathing and just float in the bath. Anything I tried to do to cope with the pain only worked for a moment. It. sucked. At last I could feel the baby's head crowning. I Thanked God! quite loudly and announced the accomplishment. I thought I had finally come to my sweet relief, that wonderful pushing stage where all the pain seems to subside in natural childbirth... but not this time. Crap, it was strait crap. I pushed and pushed, Idiot Midwife was no help. After what seemed like an eternity my sons huge head was finally birthed, in the process My love had hoisted me out of the water so I was now standing up bent over the bath. I pushed and pushed but our sweet baby was very much stuck. I pushed they pulled, but it felt as though they were trying to push him back in, so I asked why the hell possibly f*** they were pushing on me - like I wasn't having a hard enough time holding my exhausted shaking body up. Eventually (and I mean a really long eventually) or baby was out (I scream OH Thank GOD!) and not screaming or breathing just making some very low rattling noise. I was dying to turn around and sit as opposed to being in that damned 'on all fours position' but Idiot Midwife felt the need to put baby on my back (like I'm a table or something). She sent my mom to get the oxygen tank and asked if it had a name, we asked what it was, A boy she exclaimed. We told her Ori and then for what (again) seemed like an eternity we all talked to the baby and slapped his back. "Come on baby" over and over again. Then he cried his loud foghorn cry that lasted for the first few months, pushing me past my sanity threshold... I think he misunderstood what we were going for. And we had our second son. Our 10 lb 23-24in (the Idiot Midwife didn't stretch out his leg when she measured)son Ori Azariah who's name in Hebrew means "My Light" "Is helped by god". He was a black and blue mess after all that being stuck and not breathing, I do have one terrible picture that was taken on the wrong settling just as my battery died:
I know terrible, right?
Eventually the bruising went down and he got a nice red colour to him, *lol* then he turned orange - but what can you do?
Here he is looking less like a boxer that lost the fight and died (thanks to the camera setting) and more like Mr. Magoo the next day.

And here he is looking less puffy (and rocking his baby legs) on day 4.

Now just for fun here are pictures of Rowan Elíse (sorry this picture was taken when 3 megapixel was alot and i had a 1.5 megapixel camera*lol*):

And Teijah Matthias

When they were around six months.



and if I find my camera I may add one of the little half birthday boy here. stupid missing camera.
These were his first socks (and Babylegs):

and this was supposed to be his first hat:

but it kept falling off so he wore the bigger pink version that I made, you know, just in case he was a girl.
and here's his bed that is about to get lowered, and switched to the hungry caterpillar sheets in preparation to move him into his brothers room.

Ah they grow up so fast and this little man is certainly no exception to the rule! He is my go, go, GO! baby and is in such a hurry that he is far ahead of where his brother and sister where at this point. *sighs* Now I'll spend the rest of the day reminding myself that I want to wait for the next one, and that I do NOT actually want to be the next Michelle Duggar. :)

Banana Sticker Boobvertisement

These two have seriously got to be my favourite so far!












*lol* the best!
In other news, He seems to be turning my predicament and my coffee induced dilemma around quite quickly. My Love's dad came today to drop off our fourth (well technically My Love's third and my adopted) and when hearing of my educational woes; told My Love to just use some of the money he owed him from his financial aid to pay for my minimum 6 credit so I will be attending the summer B semester despite the fact I've been McFired. Thank you Jesus, God, Bruce and everyone in between. Awesome.
I have also decided (due to said coffee induced dilemma) that I am officially pledging my allegiance to Starbuck's.. who cares if it costs more... McCafe can bite me. Hm I wonder if they will give me a part time, only on the weekends, break for pumping job... *lol* Maybe I should aim higher, but they do give you a monthly *free* pound of coffee of your choice allowance... and apparently I like coffee so much I'm willing to get fired for it. Just kidding.

Oh fudgesicle sticks...

*heh* that's how my mother used to avoid swearing... because she didn't until she got around all of us - teenage potty mouths because that kind of thing seems to be contagious... I feel I should also add that she rarely does - but if she does you know someone has really pissed her off. Anyway, this is not a post about my saintly mother. It is just one of those times where swearing really is called for - except I'm quitting so fudgesicle sticks are in high order.
One hour and forty-five minutes ago I was (in front of all three of my lovely children) fired from the McJob that I was over qualified for but is nonetheless the job I go to when pregnant and/or breast feeding because it is one of the only jobs a person can go to with very picky availability and still get hired on the spot. The McJob that I was only keeping until I was done with school, and the McJob overqualified me could have never gotten fired from... well apparently that is not the case.
So what was it that unfirable, over qualified me did that rendered the unthinkable firing?
I grabbed a couple of coupons... you know the free promotional coupons, those ones where every time you buy a coffee you get a stamp and when you get so many stamps you get a free coffee (yes coffee I am rarely seen eating at said McJob in my free time)well apparently I was "seen at 'other McJob location' using" said coupon. And apparently taking free promotional coupons is considered theft, and as of today I am considered fired.
I do not deny grabbing said coupons, but I do not feel that I stole from anyone... I think that the whole thing is a little screwy and obviously I would not have taken said coupons if I had ever thought that it would be viewed as theft... because stealing is wrong, it's one of the ten commandments - that's how wrong it is... even God says it's bad.
So, I called the McFranchise office to ask if what I had done was in fact stealing, because as far as I was concerned it was not and I would at least like to know if what I did was actually wrong. The McStoreSupervivior is supposed to be calling me back because the receptionist had no idea how to answer my frantic questioning.
How hard is it for a person that has been marked with the scarlet F to get a job? I mean seriously in this economy? Someone who can only work certain hours, someone that needs breaks to pump... fudgesicle sticks.
I have been feeling very stuck and unfulfilled lately, not to mention the whole completely unaware of my purpose in life and what I want to be when I grow up thing... I have also been praying for some insight or relief from it all - that God would do what was necessary to put me on the right path, that I would have the strength to let him...
Is that what this is?
Seriously God?
So I have decided to take this opportunity to seek out another job, one that is not the easy way out... one that could perhaps show me what I am being called to do. Hopefully it pans out soon because with this whole firing thing added to this things are really going to be ridiculously tight around here. *heh* but I guess now I definitely have time to clean the house...