Why I chose homebirth

I originally wrote this as a note on my facebook page but I have decided to post it here as well. My passion for birth has recently been rekindled due the fact that I am currently surrounded by pregnant women and newborns in my circle of friends. (No, I'm not pregnant) I have been reading and researching much about pregnancy and birth in whatever spare time I can find and I'm sure I will have many posts to come on the issue but I wanted to start with my own reasons for having my children at home. 

Being a mother of two children now I have had many conversations with a large variety of people about birth and our experiences with it. I am always a little apprehensive when people ask about mine because I'm never sure what their reaction will be when I say, "I had two home births." Most of the time they look a little shocked and then say something to the effect of "Wow! Your brave!", some really love it and others clearly think that I irresponsibly put my and my children's lives at risk. I decided to write this note because I want to give a clear explination of why I had my children at home. 

First I want to make a couple things clear:

• I was not motivated by some macho feminist mentality 

• I did not feel like I needed to "prove" something by having a natural birth 

• I do not think hospitals are evil places

• I am not trying to be trendy or a hippy

• I did not do this for crazy religious reasons

• I am not "super brave"

• I do not believe I have a higher than average pain tolerance

Now that those are out of the way, on to the reasons I did choose homebirth!

When I was pregnant with my first child (Titus) I initially looked into the local hospitals to try and find the right fit for me. I knew I wanted to try a natural birth and had read some great things about waterbirth and it's effectiveness in helping relieve pain. I also wanted to be with midwives rather than an OB. After some searching I found a hospital that met my criteria and started my prenatal visits. The staff was friendly but I felt like there was something lacking in my care. My appointments were 30 mins long but most of that was spent either with a nurse, taking my weight, blood pressure, etc and waiting around for the midwife to arrive. I only really had about 10 mins with a midwife and it mainly consisted of going down the check list of routine questions she had for me, but I had nothing really to compare it to so I just assumed that is how it is supposed to be. After a couple of visits Robert and I were asking about the hospital's policies concerning birth. There were a lot of the typical things like not eating or drinking anything after being admitted but the one that pushed Robert and I into looking for other options was this: Because we were in the height of the H1N1 scare no one would be allowed into the room with me who was not vaccinated against it. Robert and I were both firmly against the H1N1 vaccine so that did not sit well with us at all. So we began looking else where. 

We watched a documentary with some friends called "The Business of Being Born" which started my investigation of homebirth. I found a homebirth midwifery group and made a consulation appointment to check them out. The appointment was an hour long and we were blown away by the knowledge, kindness and enthusiasm about birth that we encountered. We agreed that this was definitely the place for us.

As my pregnancy progressed I became thirsty for information about pregnancy and birth. I read book after book, watched documentaries, talked to lots of people and spent hours online researching different things. The things that became overwhelmingly obvious was that birth is a tranformational experience regardless of where you are, who you are or how it happens. You will be changed by it. Often our attention is so focused on the baby that we neglect the woman during the birth process! It is not just a baby that is being born but a mother as well. Because this process is so important to a woman it is essential that she not only be safe but comfortable. For some that comfort is at home, for others it is at a hosptial or a birthing center. For me, it was at home. 

When I made my decision to give birth at home the most common question I was asked was "Does that mean you won't have any drugs?". Yes, it did in fact mean I would be laboring without any option of pain killers. This is usually when I would get the "Oh man! You are so brave!" or "I would never want to give birth without an epidural!" or "Aren't you scared of the pain?". Honestly, yes! I was scared of how much pain I would be in! I didn't want to be in pain and I would love to have a painless labor! So why not go the hospital and get an epidural? Because there was something that scared me even more than the pain: injury to myself or my baby. (This next part is not written in an attempt to demonize hospitals or critisize anyone who has opted for medical intervention. It is simply explaining the risks that are associated with common interventions in the birth process that are not often known.) Recieving an epidural is actually not risk free. In fact there are quite a few risks associated with it but they are often not known. When you recieve an epidural an injection is given into the spine to block the bodies ability to feel anything from the waist down. This does not work for everyone (in fact, my mom had epidurals with both my sister and myself and it only took to half of her body both times). When your body looses this sensation a few things happen. The first is an obvious side effect, you can't stand up. You loose your ability to move around, not only because of the loss of sensation but you are also hooked up to the epidual machine as well as having a cathater in place. This loss of motion can make laboring much more difficult and even more risky. When a woman lies on her back her pelvis actually becomes smaller and it becomes much more challenging to push a baby out! Standing, being on your hands and knees, squatting or just sitting up all open up the pelvis much more allowing the baby more room to come out.

When you loose the sensation of pain your body's natural pain killer, endorphins, shut off. This means that when the epidural wears off the pain is much more intense than it initially was because you don't have anything helping you cope. The loss of sensation and subsequnt altering of hormonal response can, and often times does, slow or stall labor. If this happens often a labor inducing drug is given to keep things going. Often the contractions induced from drugs are much more intense than natural contractions so the epidural is increased. The problem with this is that while you may not be feeling the contractions, your baby is. Natural contractions tend to be intense but short allowing the baby time to rest between them. Drug altered contractions tend to be long and strong cutting off the baby's oxygen flow for longer periods of time, therefore increasing the risk of fetal distress. 

Assuming the epidual is still in effect when you reach the pushing stage it is remarkebly hard to push when you can't feel anything. The lack of muscle control because of numbness can lead to the need for either vacuum extraction, foreceps or even a c-section. 

On top of all of those risks there is also the possibility of allergic reaction, post-partum bladder dysfunction, nausea, vomitting, maternal fever, loss of sexual sensation and function and even death. And despite what many may claim, the epidual drugs DO cross the placental barrier and can cause drowsiness at birth, poor sucking reflex and there have been new studies out linking epidurals to ADHD. The rate of epiduals in the US is around 75%. I wonder what it would be if these risks were explained to women before they went into labor. 

Back to my pregnancy. My water broke at 4:30am June 19th 2010. I was finally in labor. The first few hours I had regular contractions that were coming about every 5 minutes apart and growing in intensity. By 9:30am I could no longer talk through my contractions and started to enter that "labor land" mindset. My contractions picked up and quickly became more intense. By noon I was have extrememly strong contractions lasting at least 5 minutes with about 30 seconds in between. My midwives checked my progess and found I was only 4 cm dilated. They quickly discovered that he was posterier (facing forward instead of backwards) and stuck. With the help of my mom, my doula, Robert and the midwives we spent the next 4 hours doing everything we could to get him to turn. My contractions were not letting up and were now lasting at least 5 mins up to 10 mins long with virtually no breaks in between. I will not lie, it was extremely painful. Finally around 4pm he was in position and I was fully dilated. I started to push. He was out in 27 mins. Both of us were healthy, happy and tired! Afterwards  my midwives told me that I had one of the most intense labors they had ever seen. That night I was asked by a good friend if I was happy I had him at home. And my answer, YES! Why? Because of two reasons. First, had I been offered drugs I don't know that I would have refused them, as much as I didn't want to have them. Second, more than likely I would have ended up with a c-section had I labored in the hospital. The only reason my labor went as smoothly as it did was because I had at least 2 or 3 people assisting me and trying to get him to turn for close to 8 hours. That would not have happened in the hospital. 

This brings me to one of my biggest reasons that I chose and will continue to choose homebirth. I do not want a c-section! The c-section rate in America is around 35%. That means one in every three births are c-sections.  The World Health Organization (WHO) states that no country should have a c-section rate higher than 15%. We are more than double that. Sadly our health care system has become so broken that it is easier and actually legally safer for doctors to just jump to a c-section then it is to help women labor natually. OBs are very skilled surgeons and such a blessing to have available but have very little training for natural birth. The hospital system is geared towards very medicalized births. (I know this is a general statement and does not apply to all hospitals and is not how all OBs/nurses/midwives see things but as a general trend in the US this is true) Because of the increased likelihood of having a c-section just from going to the hospital I chose to be at home. The risks involved in having a c-section are long but the risks in having multiple are even longer. I want to have lots of children and while a c-section does not stop me from that, it would make it much more difficult. VBACs are becoming harder to do and sadly, more costly. For the safety of both myself and my children I plan on continuing to labor and birth in the safety of my home. 

In America we spend more per birth than any other country in the world but we are 33rd in the world for infant mortality rates and 41st for maternal mortality rates. Clearly there is something wrong with our system of care if we are so far behind virtually every other developed country in the world for mortality rates. I want to end this note with an message to all women out there.  You are strong! We were built to bring children into this world and God created us in a way to do it without help! We have been raised to fear the pain that labor brings but I want to tell you that not only can you endure the pain but that there is nothing to compare to the moment the pain ends and the exhilaration of meeting your child for the first time. Don't doubt your own ability to labor. You were created for it. :-)

Putting down roots

Growing up I never liked gardening. Despite my mother's desperate attempts to give me a green thumb or at least help out in the beautifully landscaped yard that we had, I was never interested and actively tried to avoid doing any kind of yard work. After I got married the feelings didn't change. My husband and I lived in apartments and I was perfectly happy not having to mow a lawn or worry about watering plants or (the worst of all) weeding. Even house plants would usually die after a short period of time simply because I would never remember to water them. This all started changing about one year ago.
I cannot put my finger on exactly when or why I started desiring some kind of vegetation in my life but I remember telling my husband that I, for the first time ever, really wanted a house plant. My desires were slightly satiated when we received a bamboo plant from a friend as a gift. I even managed to keep it alive! (I know, bamboo is basically impossible to kill) But my desire did not stop there. It just kept growing.
This past March our family moved back to Oregon and into a wonderful little townhouse with a small yard. Finally I had a place that I could use all of this pent up garden loving desire! I was so excited to see that there was already a raised bed in the corner of the yard and after discussing options with the landlord decided to work towards putting in more garden space in the future. I was psyched! Over the past few months I have managed to plant and keep alive multiple flower pots, three herb gardens, zucchini, cucumbers, tomatoes and blackberries. I just planted snap peas, string beans, carrots and lettuce. I am so excited about seeing my plants grows!

After working in the garden for a couple of hours today I was reflecting on why I have become so invested in something that had never before interested me. My answer is simple, my life is no longer about doing the easy thing. I hated gardening because it was hard. It took lots of time, effort and patience to grow a good garden. I had so many other easy things to do that gave me immediate gratification that there was no desire to spend so much time on something so mundane as tending a garden. Now, after many years and life lessons I have come to appreciate those things that take time to accomplish.
I just turned 27 and as I reflect on what I have experienced so far in life and look forward to what's ahead I begin to see that the desire to "garden" applies to all areas of my life. My priest has given the analogy many times that our life is very much like tending a garden. We have to make sure that we are getting enough of what we need and be aware of those "weeds" that are choking out the important parts of our life. This applies to my spiritual life, my role as a mother, my relationship with my husband and all my friendships. As I begin my 27th year of life I am realizing that I need to weed out those things that are not important and really start to put down strong roots in the things that are. Not only will I benefit from this but my family will also enjoy the fruits of my labor. It will not be easy and there will be times it will not be fun but I look forward to watching all of my "plants" grow so that I can enjoy a lush garden later in life.

Mother's Day with Sister!

I have been neglecting my blog recently but I feel justified in blaming that mostly on my sister. My younger sister has been living in Thailand for the past year working as a journalist for YWAM and just returned home this past Friday to her ecstatic family and friends. My husband, the kids and I spent the weekend celebrating both my sister's homecoming and Mother's day at my parent's home. It was a wonderful weekend and a fantastic way to celebrate motherhood.
Sunday afternoon, while the family was gathered round the table eating lunch, my sister asked both my mom and I what our favorite thing was about being a mom. My mom's answer surprisingly was birth. She saw the beauty and wonder in the struggle that it is to bring a new life into the world and that unparalleled moment when you meet your baby for the first time. I completely understand why she answered that way. And it is a big reason why I have become such a huge supporter of natural birth (I'm sure there will be many posts on that to come). After thinking about the question for a while I had two answers I couldn't decide between. The first was the absolute joy and wonder it is to get to know your children. It still baffles my mind that these adorable little babies have distinct personalities, dreams and desires that will grow and morph as time goes on. I am made aware of this distinctiveness every day as I try to give both my children the attention and care that they individually need, often in very different ways.
The second answer I had was the great eye opening realization of who you are that comes with being a mom. There are very few things that can humble me as quickly as when I realize that the reason I am getting mad at my child is because of my own selfishness rather than any wrong act. (Don't get my wrong, there are plenty of disobedient acts to get frustrated over, but that is not always why I get angry) Our priest once said that the flaws we see in our children are often mirror images of the flaws we ourselves have. Children are little sponges that soak up everything around them. Sadly this also includes our short comings and mistakes. While I would rather that my children do not learn my bad habits I do see their reflection of them as a way for me to see what I need to change about myself. After I have recognized the need for the change and begun that process can I show my kids the proper way to act. It does me no good getting frustrated at Titus because he wants to play games on my iPhone when the reason I want my iPhone is to play my games. My kids are my best and easiest method of learning patience and humility.

My mom and sister in Thailand

I want to conclude by thanking my mom for teaching me how to lovingly and joyfully serve my family the way she cared for us (and still does). I still talk to my mom at least once a day (often a couple times a day) and while we may get made fun of for it, I pray that my kids will want to call me everyday when they are grown up. I was blessed to have such a wonderful family and thank God for them daily.

Wait, you named your daughter what?

My motivation in writing this post is to answer that burning question that I have been asked so often, what is your daughter's name and why on earth did you name her that?

My daughter's name is Ksenia, pronounced X(hard x sound, like in box) en-ya. I know it is unique. Upon telling people her name I have had most every reaction from "Oh that is beautiful" to "Wow, that is.... unique.". One lady actually apologized to my daughter telling her how sorry she was that she had that name. But the most common response is "Why did you name your daughter that?". So here is my explanation for this "crazy" name we gave her.

First, my name is Jessica. Jessica in 1985 just happened to be the #1 name for girls. It held that #1 position for most of the 80s. That meant that every class I ever had from kindergarten to college there was at least one other Jessica or Jessie. In one class there were actually six Jessies and Jessicas. I hated it. Because of this I always swore that I would not give my kid a really common name. Second, when you are baptized in the Orthodox church you take the name of a saint or feast of the church as your "baptized name". Often parents will name their children what they want them to be baptized as, though not always. Robert and I both agreed that we wanted to name our children what we plan on them being baptized as. That being the case we have limited our name options to those of the saints. We had originally chosen to name our first daughter Elena (after Saint Helen) because we both love that name but circumstances changed our minds.

St. Xenia of St. Petersberg Russia lived in the 18th and was considered a "fool for Christ". She lived her life in such a manner that seemed foolish to the world around her but was done purposefully so that she was not praised for the acts of kindness and mercy she preformed. Her life can be found here: http://ocafs.oca.org/FeastSaintsViewer.asp?SID=4&ID=1&FSID=100297

As an Orthodox Christian we believe that the saints are "alive in Christ" in heaven and intercede for all of us in prayer to God continually. It is a common practice to ask a specific saint to pray for you as you would ask a friend for prayer. Certain saints are known for helping in specific areas because of their lives or miracles preformed in the past. St. Xenia is often asked for help in find work and housing. The past four years we have asked for her intercession often for both of those things and with her intercessions we have seen God provide for us in ways we would have never expected! Because of the impact her life has had on us as well as her prayers for us, Robert and I both felt strongly that we wanted to name our first daughter after her to honor her.

Ksenia is the Greek spelling of the name Xenia. We chose to spell it in the Greek style partly because we like how it looks better and because we wanted to avoid people called her "Xena" or "Zeen-ya". I am well aware of the fact that she will always have to explain her name to people but I see that as well worth it to bare the name of such a beautiful saint. 

The freedom of wheels!

I love being a stay at home mom and would not want it any other way but there are those days that I long for a little more freedom. Robert and I only have one car so when Robert heads off to work if I want to go anywhere it better be within walking distance! I don't mind most of time (I'm kind of a homebody anyways) but it would be nice to run to store with the kids during the day if I need to or go to a play date that isn't only at our house. So when I found out that we were going to be borrowing my sister's car for the two weeks before she gets home I was elated! Visions of shopping trips, play dates and random trips to all of the other places I always wish I could take the kids started drifting through my head.
We got her car on Saturday afternoon and I was jumping for joy! Come Monday morning Robert left for work in her car and I had the van and you know what I did? Nothing! I stayed at home with the kids all day and went nowhere. After realizing that I wasn't going anywhere I was angry at myself for not taking advantage at my short lived freedom but then I reviewed what I had spent my time doing that day. I had spent the morning making my family a yummy breakfast and then after cleaning up a bit played with my kids. I worked with Ksenia on her sitting up skills and read Titus a plethora of books. After making lunch for them they both went down for naps and I got a little break. I loved how I had spent my time. I could have been out doing all those errands I always want to but instead I spent enjoying my children.
I do plan on taking advantage of my mobility and have arranged a play date for almost everyday for the next week but the freedom to go places made me appreciate the fact that I enjoy staying where I am at.

Robert's roommate the bread baker

Every once in a while you go through such a strange experience that looking back on it you have a hard time believing that it really happened. Robert and I had such an experience our senior year of college and I promise you, everything I write actually happened.

Robert and I both attended Seattle Pacific University from 2003-2007. Our senior year Robert was living off campus in an old large red house lovingly referred to as "the barn house". He had four roommates, Lukas, Garrett, Kyle and Mike, each with their own rooms. They all got along very well and overall was a drama-free environment. Garrett had signed up to go to a YWAM school in Australia for spring quarter so they were going to look for a new roommate after spring break. There were lots of friends that came and went from the house freely so it wasn't uncommon to see someone you didn't know in the house. Over spring break Robert and I came home and found a guy, Seth, sitting on the couch watching TV. That wasn't too strange except that he was the only one home. We got his name and figured he was a friend of one of the other guys so we didn't say anything else to him. The other roommates got home and he started hanging out and talking with him so it was assumed he had been over for them. It started getting late but instead of Seth leaving he went upstairs to stay in Lukas' room, who was currently in the Galapagos Islands for spring break. None of us said anything, again assuming that Lukas must have told him to stay there. He stayed overnight and kept hanging around the house for the rest of the week. 

The day that Lukas got home we were standing around in the kitchen talking when we discovered that NONE of the roommates had invited Seth over. Lukas and Mike both knew him as an acquainted from church but had never invited him to come over, much less to stay for the week. No one really knew what to do so they decided to just let him keep staying till they figured out why he was there. The next day they found out that Lukas' mom had told Seth's mom that there was an open room at the house and so Seth could probably move in. Seth just failed to mention any of this. Since he was already there and they needed a roommate they decided that he could officially move in. 

After Seth had lived there for about a month he received a very LARGE box in the mail. I was at the house when it got dropped off so I helped pull it into the house and it was heavy! Seth got home a little while later and I told him about the box. He kinda looked a little worried and said "oh, right." He took the box up to his room (which is directly above the living room) and started moving things around. When he came down again I asked him what was in the box. He just looked at me and said "What box?" I responded, "The box you just took upstairs". "Oh, that box. It's a secret" That was strange and I probably would have dropped it if it had just stopped there.

Shortly after that conversation Seth came downstairs and asked Robert (I quote), "Would you mind if there is a sound like a vacuum cleaner, that's not a vacuum cleaner coming from my room?" Robert and I just looked at each other and Robert responded, "No, but what's making the sound?" Seth looked worried again and said, "I can't tell you, it's a secret." We pressed him a bit more but he refused to tell us what the source of the noise was. After making sure we wouldn't care about the sound he went to the basement and then returned carrying a styrofoam ice chest and a wooden spoon. Our curiosity spiked but Seth still refused to let on to what he was doing. 

After returning upstairs a series of strange sounds started to fill the house. First was a vacuum cleaner like noise followed by a loud banging noise and then a brief period of silence before starting over again. This continued for about a half an hour when Kyle got home. Kyle did not care much for Seth and is a very blunt person so if anyone could figure out what was going on, we knew it would be him. We filled Kyle in on what had been happening so far and Kyle took up the task of solving this strange mystery. He ran upstairs and started knocking on Seth's door demanding to know what was going on. Seth just kept yelling "Go away Kyle! It's a secret!" All of the bedrooms upstairs had spaces above the doors where windows should have been but were instead just open holes. Kyle proceeded to climb onto the banister next to Seth's room and poke his head through the open hole to see what was going on. What he saw was Seth sitting in the middle of his room with a large bag of grain to his side and home mill in front of him with the ice chest now half full of flour off to the other side. Kyle upon witnessing this said, "Seth, what the heck are you doing?!" Seth got angry and started yelling at Kyle to get out of his room. Kyle climbed down and ran back downstairs to tell us what he had seen.

Before Kyle could finish his description Seth came running down stairs, covered from head to toe in flour, screaming at Kyle for invading his privacy. Kyle responded with "You are invading my privacy with your noise!" Somehow this seemed a valid argument to Seth and he apologized. When asked why he was making flour he refuted it! We pointed out that he was covered in flour, which he had no answer for but still refused to admit what he was doing. He then retreated to the basement again for some unknown reason. While in the basement Kyle ran upstairs and retrieved a handful of grain and flour so we could see what the "big secret" was about.  It appeared to us to be a normal mixed grain and flour. After doing some research (checking the label on the box it all came in) we discovered that it was exactly was it looked. Seth had a personal mill and mixed grains that he was using to make flour. As if that wasn't strange enough it got even weirder...

About a week after the "flour" incident I came over and discovered bread baking in the kitchen. The only two people home were Robert and Seth. I knew Robert wasn't baking bread so it must be Seth's. When Seth came downstairs I asked him about his bread. "What bread?" He responded. "The bread you are baking in the oven." "I'm not baking any bread in the oven." He said. "Well the bread you "aren't baking" is starting to smell burnt" I told him. He informed me that it couldn't be because he set a timer. He continued to bake bread daily for a few weeks, all the while refusing to admit that he was the one baking the bread. He also refused to share any with us. 

Sadly, I never found out why his bread was such a big secret or what possessed him to make his own flour. Seth lived there until their lease was up with many more odd events occurring (including a 5am ritual of break dancing and singing praise songs). I have no idea where he is now or what became of his bread but I love to share the story. I hope you enjoyed it too!

How to love life despite lameness

This is dedicated to a dear friend of mine who is struggling right now.

Most of my life growing up I was a very outgoing, carefree, happy person. I was about as extroverted as you could get and had a very easy going disposition. My junior year of high school things changed. I'm not totally sure why everything changed that year but through a series of events I became majorly depressed and began a very destructive cycle of physically and emotionally hurting myself. I developed an acute anxiety disorder which continued to rule my life for many years afterwards. After a couple years of counseling and anxiety medication I was able to get things under control but the uncontrollable anxiety was always right under the surface. 

Probably the most frustrating thing people would tell me when I would be suffering an anxiety attack was "Just trust in Jesus". Problem was if I asked for an example of how exactly to accomplish that I would usually get a lame answer like, "Just know that God has everything under control and Jesus loves you." As reassuring as that may sound it did not help me when I was in the middle of an anxiety attack. Now don't misunderstand me. I do love God and I know that He has everything under control and that trusting Jesus really is the best thing I could do. The problem was, how. And no one could give me a good answer. This constant battle raged under the surface for years and while I was getting better at eventually calming myself down the anxiety itself was ever present. That is until a couple of years ago.

For those of you who do not know, Robert and I converted to Orthodox Christianity back in November of 2009. When I came to the Orthodox church I was overwhelmed by all the beautiful stories of those Christians who had run the race before us and finished in triumph. Those saint's stories were an amazing source of encouragement that I had never had before. One saint in particular really touched my heart, St. Nectarios of Pentapolis and Aegina. Here is a very brief summary of his life. 

St. Nectarios was born Oct. 1st, 1846 to very poor parents in Greece. He moved Constantinople when he was 14 for school and after graduating moved to Alexandria, Egypt where he eventually became a bishop. He was very pious and loving man. All of people he was bishop over loved him dearly and he quickly became a favorite among the public and the Patriarch (Arch Bishop). Sadly, he was removed from his post by clerics who were jealous of his popularity with the people. Lies were made up against him by the jealous clergy. Patriarch Sophronios refused to listen to St. Nectarios. He was sent away from Egypt without trial or explanation, and was never given an opportunity to defend himself.

After his dismissal, he returned to Greece in 1891, and spent several years as a preacher. He was then appointed director of the Rizarios Ecclesiastical School for the education of priests in Athens, where his service was exemplary for fifteen years. He developed many courses of study, and wrote numerous books, all while preaching widely throughout Athens. 

In 1904 at the request of several nuns, he established a monastery for them on the island of Aegina.

In December 1908, at the age of 62, St. Nectarios resigned from his post as school director and withdrew to the Holy Trinity Convent on Aegina, where he lived out the rest of his life as a Monk. He wrote, published, preached, and heard confessions from those who came from near and far to seek out his spiritual guidance.

While at the monastery, he also tended the gardens, carried stones, and helped with the construction of the monastery buildings that were built with his own funds.

St. Nectarios died on the evening of 9 November 1920 at the age of 74, following hospitalization for prostate cancer. (Wikipedia, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nectarios_of_Aegina)

Through out his entire life he was constantly coming up against extreme persecution and unfair treatment often at the hands of fellow Christians, but he never despaired. His response to it all was quiet acceptance of the situation, giving thanks and then lifting up any concerns in prayer to God. He did not try to defend himself most of the time and he always offered what he had of his time, talents and possessions to others, even when that meant he would be going without. He was not afraid of suffering difficulty because his deepest concern was how he suffered, not if he suffered. He knew that he would be hurt by the people he loved and cared for but he refused to harden his heart to them. He would accept the pain, thank God for it and then offer it up in prayer asking for forgiveness for those who had hurt him. His view on life was so different from mine. 

I am not a saint and I doubt I will ever become one. I do not accept all of the difficulties in my life and give thanks for them but it is when I do that that my burden is lifted. The thing I came to realize is that to "just trust God" requires action on my part. It is not a passive attitude that you can attain easily. It requires that you take in the full situation, THANK God for every part of it and then ask Him for the grace needed to overcome it. That is hard but without it you will be overwhelmed. This is why St. Paul said "Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, in everything give thanks; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you." (1 Thes. 5:16-18) 

I thank God every day for the gift that I have in the faith He has brought me to. I can gladly say that I no longer have an anxiety problem. Through out the past few years I have learned to quietly accept what I am given and thank God for it. I pray that I can continue on that path evermore and learn to be content in every situation, lacking nothing. 

Give thanks!

A mother's prayer rule

Last night I attended a parenting class at my church that was specifically for moms. It was led by our two priests' wives on how to be good wives and mothers. There were a lot of wonderful things discussed and I could probably write multiple blog entries on the few topics that we were able to touch on but there was one that really made me think. One of the moms expressed her struggle with pursuing her own faith when she is so overwhelmed with all of the tasks demanded of her on a daily basis. She said something very poignant, "It is hard to have faith that having faith will do any good". I could not agree more. When you feel like the house will never be cleaned, the dishes never done and there is laundry up to your earlobes, how can you be certain that praying will accomplish anything? I think all moms struggle with this question at one time or another. I know I certainly have and do! After this mom had expressed her concern many ideas were shared on how to persevere despite the constant distractions and pressures but one in particular struck me. One of our moms shared a conversation she had with the abbess of a monastery about this very thing. After lamenting to the abbess her inability to ever say her prayers or do prostrations the abbess told her that a mother's prayer rule is sitting up with your child when they can't go to sleep and that her prostrations are picking up your baby when it needs to be held. We are still praying and disciplining ourselves, it just looks a little different. I found this thought not only encouraging but beautiful! What a blessing we have as mothers to be surrounded daily by opportunities to show our families love! This transformed understanding of the spiritual life of a mom not only removes the guilt of never having enough time to "really pray" but gives new purpose to those moments when the kids are melting down and everything is a mess. It is those times that we can take a deep breath and say a short prayer thanking God for the opportunity to love our family.

I have by no means attained this mentality and I daily reach a point where I am much more likely to run screaming from the house than thank God for crying children but I am trying to change my mindset. I have started this process by realizing that my spiritual struggle at this phase in life does not involve hours of quiet uninterrupted prayer and spiritual reading. My spiritual goals are different. My focus is on raising christian children and creating a home where God is present. This has not been easy and I am by no means good at it but it has helped transform the way I view my time. Children are sponges and notice more than we realize. If I am making a daily effort to make God present in our home, even in a small way, the kids will notice. Even if all that means is putting on a paraklesis (prayer service) CD while folding laundry and saying the short evening prayers with the kids it makes a difference. If my children see me trying to remember God throughout my day (in the small ways that I can) it will teach them to remember God in theirs. I may not be able to prayerfully focus on a whole Sunday service but I can make sure that my children experience the liturgy and participate in the Body of Christ. I may not be able to make it through all of small compline but I can show my children how to cross themselves and show reverence to holy things. My spiritual struggle now is to train my children in the ways of righteousness. I can only pray for wisdom and grace to do it. 

I look forward to the day when I can again set aside an hour to pray and dig deep into a spiritual book but for now I am content making God a reality in my home in all the ways that are possible. 

My "second" post

It is almost 6am and I sitting on my couch wide awake wishing I were still asleep. Why am I awake? Well it is a short story. You see, Ksenia (my 6 month old daughter) woke me up at 5am to nurse. Groggily I picked her up and laid her in bed with me, thanking the Lord that I could continue "sleeping" while she ate. After about a half an hour she was falling back asleep so I laid her back into the bassinet and myself back to bed. That's when it happened. Although I was exhausted only moments before and basically asleep while nursing the moment I laid back down I was wide awake. I don't know about you but it is during those wee morning hours when I wish I were still asleep that all the motivation to do things I wish I had during the day hits me. All of the sudden I have the strongest desire to shampoo my carpets, go running, organize all those papers in the guest room that need filing and start a blog. After much consideration and many futile attempts to fall back sleep writing a blog won out. 
I have never written a blog before. Well, that's not true. I have at least a half dozen blogs scattered across the internet with only partially finished first entries. So I will amend my statement: I have never successfully blogged on a semi consistent basis. I blame my lack of success of two things: firstly, my laziness. secondly, the difficulty of writing a "first post". I hate introductions. My whole life I have struggled with them. In school I loved to write  papers and could easily write 15-20 pages on almost any topic. The problem I had was starting them. In fact, most of the time I wrote the introduction last because if I tried to write it first I would spend more time on one paragraph than I would the whole rest of the paper. I always felt like an introduction needed to be the inticing summary of whatever it was I would be writing about. The problem was, how could I summarize something I hadn't yet written? This problem is magnified in a blog. I have no idea what my blog entries will entail so how can I correctly portray what this blog will be about before I even know? So I am asking for your patience. Please consider this entry to be my second post, not the first. I have no idea what this blog will be about or how often I will be writing in it. I suspect it will take me year of blogging before I will feel confident to write my "first post". 
So why now? I have been an avid journaler most of my life but my journaling has fallen by the way side the past couple years due mainly to children. I still consider writing down my thoughts and life events as important but have decided that in light of my current station in life, blogging will have to be my outlet for a time. 
For those of you who have made it through this far, congratulations! I hope I haven't bored you to tears. I will try to write as often as possible and maybe even make sense sometimes. Enjoy what you can and leave the rest!