/**/ The Purposeful Wife: November 2013

Wednesday, November 20, 2013

Thankful for My Husband


When Niall saw this picture on my computer screen, he laughed. "That was before the world broke us."

Sure, the last three years since it was taken have been full of ups and downs. Two kids, one less income, and the new challenges in this season of life have left us a whole lot more tired, with greater responsibilities that can at times feel like the weight of the world. That would be true.

Truer still that I haven't always been thankful. I've grumbled and nagged and snapped at him when times were hard or hormones ran high. 

But the good things have been sweet, and the ways that we've seen the Lord work and move, incredible. He's grown and healed our 27 week preemie, provided for each bill and need even when the numbers just didn't add up, and brought our second baby through a full term pregnancy. Being parents has been one of life's greatest joys, and we wouldn't trade our babies for a trial-free-life any day, ever. Period.

So on this, my husband's 29th birthday {which, oh, how he is cringing over}, I'd like to give thanks for Niall.

I'm thankful that he is boring.

I'm thankful that he quietly supported me and knew exactly what to do for our son's difficult labor, the perfect laboring partner.

I'm thankful that he works hard, even extra hours, to provide for us so that I can stay home. I'm thankful that me going out to work isn't even an option in his mind.

I'm thankful for his sense of humor {oh how he makes me laugh!} and his easy going personality that sets strangers at ease.

I'm thankful that even though he isn't perfect, with his share of struggles and character flaws {like the rest of us}, one thing he has always been is an incredibly warm and devoted, wonderful father.

I'm thankful that he still surprises me, and that I don't quite have him figured out yet.

I'm thankful for the hard decisions he's made. That he wants to honor the Lord, and even when I buck and bray, un-submissive wife that I at times am, he stays firm.

I'm thankful that he really and truly, deep down, cares for me and is looking out for me. Without a doubt, the man has my back.

I could go on, but he is probably already embarrassed enough. So here's to you honey- happy birthday.

Monday, November 18, 2013

Thankful for Breastfeeding


In this season of Thanksgiving, I want to thank the Lord for the gift of being able to nurse my son. S and I had a difficult time and were never able to, so it's something I'm trying so hard to not take for granted.

I'm also trying to avoid the pride and ugliness that can crop up in this world of heated words hurled at mamas who make different decisions or are in different life circumstances.

Since giving birth to W at the end of July, one of my absolute favorite things has been nursing. It gives me a chance to relax, put my feet up, and just enjoy my babe. It's also extremely nice to not have to wash bottles.

There is something so satisfactory as a mama about knowing that your body is meeting your baby's needs. This satisfaction {for me} can almost borderline on pride at times.

My heart is so sinful. That I could feel superior and smug over a beautiful and natural gift from the Lord is just ugly.

Because the reality is that all good gifts come from him {James 1:17}. Good gifts should never be a source of pride, but rather of thanks to the Giver. What do we have that we have not received {1 Corinthians 4:7}?

I remember a time when breastfeeding wasn't easy. When my little preemie and I were unable to figure out the complexities of nursing. When I just gave up trying and instead, exclusively pumped for an entire year.

I spent nearly 40 hours each week (yes, a full time job) pumping and washing pump parts, to only produce a small fraction of the milk my chronic projectile vomitor consumed. Many times I wanted to quit. 

I remember that many mamas try hard, and want so desperately to nurse, but for whatever reason just can't. Maybe their supply doesn't come in. Maybe they don't get the help they need. Maybe their current life situation just isn't conducive to it. Maybe they give up in the desperate throws of mastitis or engorgement or nursing strikes. I remember how desperate I've felt in those moments. While 99% of nursing is pure bliss, that dreadful 1% when it isn't, when it hurts like nothing you could have ever imagined and you are so terribly tired, can bring you to your knees.

My friend Mandy very much wanted to breastfeed each of her three children, and unfortunately was unable to. She reminded me that even when what we're given doesn't seem good, we are guaranteed that it is all working together for our good and His glory {Rom. 8:28}.

"While I didn't feel like my issues with not being able nurse were good, they were still a gift from God because they drew me to Him. They taught me about Him. They helped me become more like His Son... I TOTALLY agree that breastfeeding is the best way to go, but it is not the end goal of life for us as mothers or our children and we can't let it be an idol of our heart in wanting it or thinking we are better because of it." {Mandy J. Hoffman}

Being able to nurse is just a gift, plain and simple. God gives different gifts to different people, and the gifts we receive are all of grace. We deserve or earn none of them. I am not a better mama because I breastfeed. You are not a lesser mama because you don't.

I remember telling women that I exclusively pumped, and that breastfeeding just didn't work out for us. So many times they would offer suggestions, or what worked for them, or raise their eyebrows in disbelief.

I think they were mostly trying to be helpful. But oh, how I wanted to scream, "You don't know how hard I've tried!" They didn't know much I'd grieved over it, or that I'd worked extensively with three different lactation consultants, read the books, tried so many different tricks and approaches, given my very best. Unwittingly they added insult to my injury.

The Mommy Wars are just plain ugly. While I strongly believe that breastfeeding is healthier for both mom and babe, I also need to really understand, deep in my heart of hearts, that it is never okay to judge another mother's motives or methods behind the parenting decisions she's made.

We just don't know. We don't know her story, her behind-the-scenes. We aren't intimately acquainted with her child- but she sure is. All we should assume is that she loves her child, and is giving this mothering business her best. 

All this to say, instead of taking pride in the decision and ability to breastfeed, I want to give thanks to the Lord, acknowledging that I wouldn't be able to do so if He didn't provide the milk, and the information and people that have helped me along the way.

Being able to nurse my son is a gift. Having access to formula when you can't breastfeed is also a gift. Loving one another despite our differences in parenting styles is a gift. We are all prone to judging, and we desperately need God's grace to be humble and charitable with one another.

All is grace, friends.

Wednesday, November 13, 2013

Toddlers Learn Organically


Last spring, I was kind of concerned.

S could count to ten {and had a vague grasping of numbers up to 20}, recognize a few letters, quote a few Bible verses, and sing her ABC's.

But she didn't know her colors. *Gasp!*

Other kids knew their colors. A lot of kids her age, and even younger, knew their colors extremely well.

Though I knew better, I semi panicked. We worked on those colors every day as we read books and played, yet she made zero progress. Oh my!

Guess what? Six months later, S has her colors well in hand. She got it long after I gave up trying, so I know her finally getting it has *nothing* to do with my stressing and over-reiterating.

I didn't teach her how to count either. One day in the car {at 18 months-ish} my husband and I were completely caught off guard to hear her count from 1-8. We'd never heard it before, and I hadn't even started working on it with her. She had a toy maraca that counted, and picked it up via simple daily play and repetition.

I'm constantly amazed at the lyrics my child spouts off from memory. How she parrots what she sees and hears in real life. How she quotes word-for-word the stories we've read time and time again.

Kids are wired to learn. They just do.

And while I know I shouldn't stress about milestones, and we've all heard a million and one times that we should never compare... I still do.

Bleh. I am so over it. No more!

I'm making the conscientious decision to just relax. To accept whatever pace my children set, and to not worry about the "whens" of each achievement.

I'm just going to keep reading to them a lot, and talking to them a lot, and playing and working alongside of them.

I think the rest will just sort itself out.


 What's your childhood learning philosophy? Have any major (or minor) milestones stressed you out as a parent?

Monday, November 11, 2013

A Creative Cover for Your Child's Table


Today I have something fun for you. Something that will make your life a little easier, and your kiddos lives a little more colorful.

For her birthday my mom bought S a sweet little table and chairs. S eats at this table, reads at this table, plays at this table, but most frequently; colors at this table.

And every day I would cringe as I heard the crayon scrape off the paper and onto the table. Sometimes it was an accident {because let's be real, two year olds aren't the most coordinated people}. Most of the time it was because coloring the table seemed like way more fun to S.

At any rate, I was a teensy bit tired of scrubbing off crayon marks. If I even bothered to clean them, which honestly, I didn't often. Instead the ugly big marks glared at me, making distracting eye clutter that annoyed my OCD side.


One afternoon a blessed fix dawned on me. I carefully selected a handful of coloring pages, pictures of some of her favorite things {a ballerina. the moon. puppies and kitties.}. Then I took my handy dandy roll of painter's tape, and handcrafted a table cover just for her.

It was a stroke of genius, folks. S loves coloring on her table! There is always something for her to color on, so I don't have to neatly set her up with coloring books every time she feels the creative urge. When she spills a little something, there is a cover to catch it. When I look around the room, I'm no longer plagued by an eyesore. And when the pages fill up or tear, I simply replace them.


I still might cringe for a moment when I hear the crayon take to the table. But then I remember its covered and just relax. Issues? Yes, I have them.

Several friends {who also happen to be toddler mamas} have commented on how neat it is when they're over. So I thought I'd share with you if it could be of any help. Seriously, whatever makes life easier.

Happy coloring!


Warning: The only negative I've experienced with this set up is that the ink from the back of the coloring pages tends to rub off onto the table. For me its still worth it, because 1) I don't see the marks until I take the pages off to replace them, and 2) S has so much fun with this. You could avoid this by printing coloring pages on just one side (as opposed to using two-sided pages from coloring books), if you're concerned. 


Friday, November 8, 2013

Apostolic Encouragement for Weary Mamas


Lately little man has been nodding off earlier, sleeping through the night, and developing a semi-regular schedule. His sister is {for the most part} back to sleeping straight through on her own again after three weeks disruption {molars? illness? nightmares? who knows!}. This mama is finally getting more rest, and finally feeling sort of human again.

Not many weeks ago, however, I was tired. Super, super tired. All the mamas have been there. Some days we just don't know if we can keep going any longer, keep our eyes open one more minute, get up off of the couch one more time to fulfill the many demands on our hours, energy, and affection.

It was one of these drowsy days that my eyes caught the text "in toil and hardship, through many a sleepless night, in hunger and thirst, often without food, in cold and exposure" (2 Cor. 11:27). No doubt about it, Paul endured many physical obstacles in his gospel ministry.

I've been called to the gospel ministry of motherhood. It has its difficulties, for sure, but this day as I read it I was reminded that the Apostles had sleepless nights too. In addition to their hunger, and beatings, and imprisonments, and shipwrecks. And I thought that this motherhood thing isn't so bad after all.

Take heart, mama. "For this slight momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison," (2 Cor. 4:17).

Wednesday, November 6, 2013

6 lbs. 14 oz. {A Termie Birth Tale}


As opposed to 1 lb. 15 oz. {A Preemie Birth Tale}.

Monday night {July 29th, 2013} I joked with Niall as we were getting into bed. "What if I woke you up in the middle of the night and told you my water broke?"

He grinned. "I'd be knackered {translation: Irish for really really tired}, but very excited."

We laughed it off and went to sleep.

Sure enough, I woke up at 2:30 a.m, needing to use the bathroom, and feeling slightly damper than usual {if this is TMI, I apologize... but shouldn't you expect that from a birth story? Warning: it might get worse}.

"If my water has broken," I thought to myself, "than it is really only a slight leak, and I should just go back to bed and see what happens. No sense in waking people up or driving to the hospital for nothing."

Sleepy, but a little excited, I lumbered my big ole 39 weeks pregnant body back to bed.


The cramping started almost immediately. Try as I might to fall back asleep, efforts were in vain. At 2:45 I got out of bed again, convinced I needed to go to the bathroom again. This time getting up I was greeted by a whooshing gush of fluid. I grinned.

"Niall," I gently shook him. "Guess what? My water really did break!" Both a little giddy, he hopped into the shower while I phoned the hospital. I knew they would want me to come in right away (they did), but I was in no rush to get there, and hoped to be as far along as possible before admittance.

I woke up my mom (who conveniently was staying with us for just such an occurrence), rocked on my birth ball, and ate a bowl of cereal while Niall showered. I knew they wouldn't let me eat once I got to the hospital, so it was my little act of rebellion (which I regretted an hour later... but we'll get to that in a minute).

By the time Niall was ready, I was already panting, attempting relaxation measures, and having to concentrate during contractions. It all happened so fast folks! I got into the shower, enjoying the hot water on my aching back. Apparently back labor is my body's style... I had it with both S and W, though neither baby was posterior. As soon as I got out and dressed, we high tailed it to the hospital.

By the end of the ten minute car ride, I was more than a little uncomfortable. In triage, I gritted my teeth through each contraction, annoyed that they wanted me to lay on my back for half an hour so they could get good readings of my contractions. Really?!? I could tell them how close my contractions were! I'm not sure what keeping me on my back accomplished, other than furthering my agony.

Finally they concluded that I was definitely in labor and should be admitted. Ha.


In the delivery room, Niall kindly took a rolling pin to my back. I read this in a birth book somewhere, and it was incredible! It gave me the most relief, and kept Niall from getting to worn out by applying pressure with his hands. My contractions were one on top of the other, with maybe 30 seconds- 1 minute in between. This is when the severe nausea hit and I wished I hadn't downed the bowl of Crispix.

I tried to change positions to find greater comfort, but as soon as I started to move, another would come upon me, and the pain was so much worse while in motion. I always ended up back where I started: birth ball on top of the bed, me leaning into it, rolling pin spinning furiously over my lower back.

I felt a serious need to empty my bladder, but this presented a problem. Walking to the toilet took forever, and when I finally got there my body was unable to relax enough to go before another contraction hit. The nurses scolded me about not giving birth on the toilet, and helped me back to bed.

By this time I started begging for the epidural. "PLEASE" I pleaded tearfully, "give me the drugs!" Inwardly I repented of my silly natural birth ideals.

"I'm sorry honey, but you are past that point. This baby is going to be here really soon."

Moments later I was pushing. It lasted only 25 minutes. Thankfully it only felt like 25 minutes. Oh boy did I scream. My face went purple. I didn't moan in a low voice like I was supposed to. I just out and out screamed.

Then he was here. They placed W on my chest. Instead of feeling that amazing and incredible bonding moment I'd dreamed of, it just felt really surreal. The whole experience had been so quick, intense, painful, and blurry that I couldn't believe it had actually happened.


I've heard time and time again that once pushing is done and you have baby in your arms, the agony is over.

But oh no, my agony was only beginning. Apparently I had torn inside of the birth canal {funny enough, I didn't even know this happened... I thought tearing was external}. Because I hadn't had an epidural, I jumped and writhed with pain as my doc tried to stitch me up. The repair took an entire hour. One hour of pressure and poking and prodding agony.

My doctor felt terrible. At several stages she considered transferring me to the OR for better lighting and anesthetics to finish the repair. In the end, we didn't go. "Oh Rachel, I wish you had had an epidural, just because it would have made this so much easier." Ah well.

I'm thankful that my doctor delivered W, because I know and like her, and I know she was trying her best to make the fix as quick and painless as possible. If it had been any other doctor, I don't know if I could have been as forgiving.

It took me about three hours to decided that vaginal deliveries are preferable to c-sections. Even now I occasionally think that I might actually prefer a C next time around. While the recovery is infinitely more difficult, and major surgery with its accompanying risks are nothing to sneeze at, the sheer intensity of my birth experience was traumatizing and overwhelming.

From my water breaking to W entering the world, the entire experience fit into a space of four hours. Yikes! I'd always wished for a quick labor, and boy oh boy did I get it. Women have said that a short labor doesn't mean easy... and I get that now.


Probably every woman thinks her labor experience was the worst in the history of womankind. I don't know if it was the speed, or the awful repair, or the uncomfortable setting (maybe a combination of the three?) but I'm not "over" it yet. At this point if I had to give birth again, I would opt for drugs (even though theoretically I believe its better to do without).

I don't want to be a negative voice to women facing birth, hoping to go natural, or aiming for a vbac. I do believe that you can have a great experience. It seems that plenty of women I've read about and spoken with have done so. I just didn't.

I'm discouraged by the lack of birthing options women have in my area- only one hospital delivers, and only two practices of docs deliver there. No midwives are employed, and there are no local birthing centers. It's either home or hospital. With my high risk history, home just isn't an option for me.

Pardon the part birth story, part rant nature of this post. I am, generally speaking, not an overly negative person. I loved every minute of the third trimester, and adore the newborn days, sleep-deprived as they may be. I would sign up for both experiences 8 more times in a heartbeat.

Mentally and emotionally, I'm just struggling to wade through this birth experience and put it behind me. I know that I really want to have more children. I just don't want to give birth ever again. I do however want to be pregnant again someday. Is there any way to do one without the other? Ha ha.

It goes without saying that I LOVE this little boy. He has my heart, and I am ever so grateful to be his mama. I am also SO thankful that the Lord blessed us with a full term babe this time around!


Is there anyone out there who can relate? I'm really not interested in advice or statistics... just other ladies who know the feeling and can commiserate. 

Monday, November 4, 2013

Take-Away from 31 Days of Pinterest Applied


Oh. my. it. is. OVER! Woohoo!

October was a super fun month. Experimenting with pins, doing the little extra sorts of projects that I never seem to have time for, and then writing about them. But can I just tell you, I am also SO glad it's over? Because that was just a tad exhausting :).

Before we relegate the topic to the archives, I'd like to share my observations on the month of crazy Pinterest Applied.

It was so very worth it! 31 days later, I've got a few new solid cleaning tricks up my sleeve{this one and that one especially}. I've made some gorgeous family keepsakes that both my husband, children and I can enjoy. My daughter and I have been having fun and making memories with sidewalk chalk paint, our felt Mr. Potato Head, the pipe cleaner color sort, and our soap box filled with crayons. We've enjoyed delicious new treats- pumpkin spice lattes, homemade mozarella sticks, twix bars, and incredible PB pretzel chocolate chip cookies. Some of these have become lasting favorites that we will make again and again. Also, my new menu board has given me a renewed excitement and energy for weekly meal planning!

So very worth it. And while I'd never recommend tackling one new pin every single day for a month, I will be attempting to incorporate them into my life on a more regular basis. Small efforts invested into our homes and families pay dividends!

I'm pinning more realistically. I've adapted a new policy: don't pin it unless if you're actually going to do/use it. Pinning just because it is pretty, or makes my mouth water, or looks like some kind of shiny ideal {that will probably never translate into my own very non-perfect life}, is just adding clutter to my boards and my sense of well-being.

I am in love with blue Dawn, baking soda, and lavender essential oil. What can't you use these delightful inventions for? They are sheer brilliance, ladies. I am pretty much constantly finding new uses for them around here. Couldn't commend them to you enough!

Your turn! What have you learned from your pinning experiences? Great life-hacks, deep philosophical insights, and random thoughts all welcomed in the comments!


Saturday, November 2, 2013

Fall Leaves Mason Jar


This beautiful fall craft did not turn out quite like I'd envisioned.

In the first place, it wasn't nearly as easy as I'd assumed it would be. It was supposed to be a kid's craft, so I thought non-crafty me would have a fine time. Ha.

The leaves didn't want to lie flat on the jar {though they did get a little bit flatter when I finally figured out how to peel the stems off of the back of them- nifty little trick!}. They moved and smudged and the mod podge was sticky and difficult to work with.

Because of the thickness of the mod podge {maybe I used too much? or maybe I should have used a bristle paint brush instead of a foam one?}, I had a difficult time envisioning the finished product, and how each leaf would look. My dried jar has big gaps between leaves... just not nearly as pretty and evenly distributed as the original pin. I think the blogger who originally made it might have used smaller leaves than I did.

In the end, I think my jar looks okay... just not as nice as I was hoping, and I don't feel its worth the trouble to make more {I thought they might work as nice gifts or centerpieces}.

Have you been disappointed with the results of your Pinterest-to-real-life crafts? There is actually an entire blog devoted to this topic, haha.

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