Distracting Lies

The last 3 days I have been going on walks with the kids. Now mind you, this involves me pushing a stroller with all three kids on board, roughly a total of 100 pounds. Its a VERY entertaining sight. While I may not be doing a crazy power walk, I do feel the effects of pushing 100 pounds through the Paseos for 3 miles.

Recently, a girlfriend of mine let me borrow some inspiring books. Didn't know quite what to expect as I am not super close to her or aware of her preferred reading material. To be honest, I only took the books to be polite. Ha! God had a totally different purpose than being gracious to a new friend. The books tapped into the inner struggles that I have not been able to put words to, and offered hope in areas that I had gradually dismissed. It was my own awakening, something that I have been eagerly desiring.

The stirrings within my soul have needed time to marinate, and quite truthfully, I am really bad at meditating. I get distracted by the fact that my body isn't doing anything, which could be a direct result of being a momma of 3 young kids under the age of 5. If I want to have deep thoughts about anything, my body needs to be busy. Usually laundry, dishes, walking, cleaning, etc. Its when I am avoiding my "chores" that I know I am actually avoiding the time needed to commune with God. All that to say, the last couple of days or miles, have provided some great time to really allow there to be active transformation in my life.

This morning, as I ventured out of the house like a crazy woman on a mission, my thoughts went directly towards what I was doing intentionally to live authentically as God has created me. (This always brings up my insecurities, and I typically will look for any excuse not to dive into it.) The inspired thought of making every aspect of life purposeful and not just a "never ending to-do list" caused me to dream a bit. What if my morning walks were not just a selfish act of getting my post-pardom body down a few sizes? What if I intentionally prayed for the homes I pass by? What if I prayed for the people I passed by?

Of course, this is when the lies come in. Right when you are on the edge of breaking through to something bigger that God wants you to be a part of, the distraction sets in... "I could never measure the effectiveness of praying for people." "Prayer walks could never be credited with the changing of a city." "People would think I was mentally ill if they heard me and think I was an unfit mother." I dismissed ALL of it with a "well, maybe." I should have known better.

About 10 minutes later, I pass someone who looks familiar. I call out her name in a questioning manner, as I have not seen this person in over 6 years. Thankfully, the identification of the individual was correct, as I was worried I might have become overly dehydrated. She didn't want to hug me or get too close to the kids as she had a cold. Normally, this is when my "momma bear" comes out, and I will protect my babies at all costs, including the price other's feelings. Instead, that part of me stayed in hibernation, because this was the moment. The exact time and place to see what God was speaking to me about in the supernatural realm manifest itself in the physical. I did lay hands on her, pray for her healing and prophetically for an area that she did not share with me till I was done praying for her.

It would have been normal to pass by and not say hello. Acknowledging her and quickly dismissing myself for our play date and her sickness would have been acceptable. But its supernatural to put your own priorities and comfort aside to dream with God and then act upon the opportunities He brings. Lies are sneaky; they are often times disguised as nobel concerns, insecurities, or phantoms of our own brokenness, causing a type of spiritual paralysis. Lies seep in to erode truth; to render us helpless at the moment God wants us to rise to the occasion.

Azariah Joseph Part 3

When the chaos of having an unplanned "At Home Birth" had settled, Stephen and I were settling down for the night in our own bed with our new son. The Midwives and my mom had left, family had been texted, and all that was left was to get a restful night of sleep. Of course, the girls would be up shortly after 7:30 am, a little more than 5 hours away...

So its after 2:00am... You would think after having a baby I would be exhausted, so tired I could barely keep my eyes open. I was tired, and VERY quickly I feel asleep. And then the first feeding hit a little after 3am... That's when I was wide awake. In the cool darkness of my bedroom, as I cradled my son, one question was keeping me from sleep.

"What WAS that?"

It was much easier for me to wrap my head around just having a baby unexpectedly at home than it was for me to find a way to articulate what I had experienced. I have two daughters, ages 3 and 4, and while their births were different from each other, neither of them were in the same arena as Azariah's.

Here was my thought process, deeply flawed at times, but that's why its called a process. There was a journey I embarked on, and my destination was far grander than I had ever anticipated.

After having my two "epidural" girls and two natural miscarriages, my mind would wander when I would read biblical text that referred to "greatly increased labor pains," "women will be saved through child bearing," and the like. I started to wonder if I was taking the easy road out with the epidural and at the same time missing out on part of my deserved punishment as a woman. Its not like I have this morbid desire or obsession with pain. I just was struggling with the thought that maybe me skipping out on a disciplinary action was hindering some much needed character development.

I never really vocalized these thoughts till the last month of my pregnancy. I did not want someone to feel judged or misunderstood because of my difficultly to feel at peace with my choices. But there was also this hope in me. I had heard of labor being described as an act of worship, and while being obsessed with the punishment side of labor made much more logical sense, I deeply wanted a taste of this type of worship. Thankfully, I did share my thoughts with Stephen and Hannah.

Of course, for my husband, he got that "wow, you are so crazy when you are pregnant" look. And he told me that it was my choice and he would support me however I chose to labor. Hannah, not so much. :) She, ever so gently, help to steer my thoughts back to truth. Because of Christ, we are no longer under the curse. Its that simple. Hannah did confirm the worship aspect of labor, and described most of her labor as "precious time with the Lord." And then she shared something that totally rocked me... She didn't think labor was painful. WHAT?!!!

Yeah, labor, not painful? Good luck with that theory! Hannah said that while labor was intense, pain was the wrong word to describe it. I thought she was crazy. She said when your focus is on God, and submitting your body to him, it changes things. She had definitely had given me something to think about. And it was definitely challenging my initial pain and punishment approach.

In preparation for labor, I had decided that I would meditate on a portion of scripture that I knew well, and could easily recall. No need to stress myself out with the pressure of trying to remember exact translation phrasing. What we deem as "The Lord's Prayer" was what I had in mind (although why we call it that, doesn't really make sense. Jesus never prayed that, he gave it as a guide. These are the crazy ramblings that occur when your husband is a student theologian, and your conversations have gone beyond "What did you learn in school today?") Stephen and I had been getting up most Friday mornings at 6am to pray, and we would use this portion of Matthew 6 as a guide. It seemed like it would work.

So come Thursday night, I am in labor, and I am just not feeling "The Lord's Prayer." In the early stages, I am just trying to stay relaxed as much as possible. I actually prolonged my labor with Abigail because I could not relax during or between contractions, so it took me a while to dilate. When labor did get to the really active stage, reciting scripture in the shower did not fit. When you are alone, and completely venerable, you can be a little bit more honest with yourself.

During my pregnancy there had been plenty of difficulties, both personally and professionally, and it was in those moments that I learned that sometimes all you can do is worship. To move the focus off myself, my problem, my feelings, and just turn and acknowledge that God is so much more. All I need to do is worship.

So that's what I did. I worshiped. For two hours. Granted, there were interruptions. It was during those "interruptions" that I would experience pain, cause I wasn't worshiping. I was getting frustrated that Stephen wanted to know where the baby's new outfit was: not worshiping. Thinking about how EASY labor is with an epidural: not worshiping. You get the idea. For those two hours, there was only one song, chorus actually, that was sung. An old hymn that I had learned years ago.

"I need thee, oh, I need thee.

Every hour, I need thee.

Oh, bless me now my savior,

I come to thee."

Hannah was right. Labor was not painful. Pain is the wrong word to describe it. It was intense. It encompasses your entire being. I understand why the word pain is used. Labor is physically challenging and overwhelming, and the only other times our bodies experience physically challenging and overwhelming sensations is pain. It makes sense that we would associate the two, especially if we had not been told they could be separated.

Back to the question that was keeping me up, "What WAS that?"I was having great difficulty figuring it out. The only thing that came close to describing labor was a symphony. And that's when I had my light bulb moment.

Labor is a beautiful song that captures your soul with crescendos and increasing tempos, rushing to an explosive finale and leaves you with the sweet, gentle encore of new life. I started to weep. Laboring Azariah has been one of the most humbling experiences, and my participation was to worship. I finally understood why C.S. Lewis had describe creation being birthed out of song.

Labor is the invitation to join the Creator in the Creation Song.

Azariah Joseph Part 2

July 4th

Contractions 8 minutes apart

6 hours

False Labor

July 12th

Contractions 4 minutes apart

5 hours

False Labor

On July 13th, I was irritated. Contractions four minutes apart that don't produce a baby are just annoying! I decided to FB message my girlfriend who used to work as an RN in the maternity ward. I asked if there was anything I could do to "help" it become real labor and end the stalling. Being a busy momma herself, she didn't get back to me for several days. She sent me a reply with her phone number to call her so we could get into more details.

So I called Hannah on the 19th, and we talked for almost an hour and a half. Being an RN, she held nothing back on her experience working with moms in the hospital and her two home births. While we were planning on having a Birth Center birth, she still explained in great detail the process of natural labor.

Let me pause for just a minute....

This post will be graphic. Not for the purpose of embarrassing my audience, but to share my actual experience. If its not for you, don't read it. I will not be offended. But the truth is, if someone had not been graphic with me, I would not have been prepared.

Ok, so back to my long talk with Hannah. She explained that the reason she, as a RN, did not want to have a hospital birth, was due to all of the "protocol" to manage labor and delivery. (Giving one drug, then having to follow with another because of the first one's effect. Inducing to speed things along, and it resulting in c-sections. Just to list a few.) She understood that the body was created and designed to labor, and that the natural process is usually best for mom and baby. (She also did mention that sometimes medical intervention is necessary, no one is arguing that. Please don't things out of context so you can have an excuse to be offended.)

She then proceeded to describe the different stages of labor; explaining time, emotions, and physically what was happening. I remember thinking "Oh my... seriously long conversation on labor! I don't think I could retain that even if I wanted to!" Thankfully that "long conversation" was less than 48 hours from my midwife appointment and my ability to recall that conversation was vital.

At my midwife appointment on July 21st, I met with my midwife's student Robyn and the supervising midwife Deborah. (If you did not read part 1, my midwife Renee is on vacation.) At my appointment, everything was looking good. In fact, I was already dilated to 4. So all that false labor was doing something! (Thank God!) The three of us discussed ways to encourage labor, as I was getting a little anxious to get things moving. We decided to strip my membranes and to try some Castor Oil. (Now mind you, these will not work if your body isn't ready. But if you are ready, it can be the tiny thing that brings on labor.) When the midwife student Robyn went to strip my membranes, she was convinced she wasn't doing it right. Apparently, I should have been cringing during the process. Deborah went to check, and reported that the reason why was because my membranes were already gone! There was only one spot that was still "attached" and I couldn't even tell that she did anything.

I left my appointment in search of Castor Oil, 4 stores later, and came home to discuss bringing on labor with Stephen. If he wasn't up for having a baby in the next 24 hours, there was no way I was going to encourage diarrhea and contractions. Stephen was totally game! So I decided to call my midwife and get dosage and instructions for the Castor Oil. After I got off the phone, it was about 4:30pm, I noticed that I had been having contractions every 10 minutes or so, and I should probably keep track. The midwives had warned me that stripping the membranes could cause my uterus to contract, but it still might not be labor.

We started the Castor Oil after dinner at 6pm, still having the annoying contractions every eight minutes. But for me, that doesn't mean ANYTHING! I have been in false labor before, and it didn't feel any different. I finished my last dose of castor oil at 7pm, and joked with Robyn that with the consistant contractions I was already having plus the Castor oil, I might not be giving the kid much of a choice! We gave the girls a bath, got them ready for bed. The contractions were getting a little bit stronger, but it very well could be that I was getting ready to spend some time on the toilet. We put the girls down at 7:30pm, and I was feeling sick. It had been about 40 minutes since the last dose of Castor Oil, I should not be having a delayed feeling of nausea.

Then I threw up. Double-Double protein style with fries and a chocolate shake. Yeah, I really hope that In & Out and I can reconcile. I decided to brush my teeth and take a shower, cause I just felt gross. During my shower the contractions started to increase in intensity and frequency, but I was in the shower, there was no way I could actually track it. When I got out of the shower, of course my darling daughters are not asleep and playing in bed. "Where is Stephen?" you might ask. He is on the phone in the living room and dinning room. Pacing. Not because I might be in labor, but because when God has called you to be a pastor, you take distressed phone calls whenever they come. Granted, I was a little irritated. The kids were still awake, and I was either in labor or in desperate need of a toilet.

So I started a new routine. Contraction, walk to the girls room, discipline girls, warn girls, walk back to my room, repeat. After a couple of rounds of this I was beyond irritated, and had moved to frustrated. I also decided to call the midwife Robyn. It was 8:30pm and I was SURE it was labor. (So yes, if you do the math, I was in labor for FOUR hours before I knew I was in labor. This is what months of contractions and false labor does to you.) The midwife and I talked for about 15 minutes, in which she was timing the length of the contraction and the interval between contractions. At that time I was about 4 minutes apart, and the duration was about 45 seconds. She wanted to to try to rest, and at 9pm, start timing them again, and then call her at 9:30pm. She told me if I wanted to get back in the shower that was fine.

So I hung up with her, and continued contracting on my bed. I had remembered that Hannah had told me that using the shower is the last bit of relief you can give yourself, and to try laboring other ways until necessary. Yeah, I lasted only four more contractions before moving into the shower. Hannah had mentioned that rocking your hips (think slow hula dancing) in a "S" shape helps to move the baby down. I was no longer able to do that, all I could do was rock back and forth. At this point, as I got back into the shower, I thought "oh Lord, I am going to spend all night in the shower if I can't even labor on my bed for more than a half hour."

By the time 9:30pm hit, I was still in the shower, and when my midwife called, Stephen had to tell her I was definitely in labor. They then made arrangements to meet at the Birth Center in an hour, well, 10:40pm. Why another hour? The midwife and the midwife student who were covering for Renee both lived outside the Santa Clarita Valley. Think Thousand Oaks and Beyond. Basically they both sped to get to the birth center at 10:40pm. And then there is me, in the shower, on all fours, with the water hitting my back as I rocked back and forth...

After 10pm, I told Stephen to start giving me periodic time updates, so that I could spend as much time in the shower as possible and not be laboring outside the Birth Center. Once Stephen told me it was 10:25pm, I started my journey to the car. I was giving myself 10 minutes to get to the car, because we lived less than 5 minutes from the center. Getting out of the shower proved to be much more difficult than I thought. Translation: I could NOT stand up! I finally made it out of the shower, and tried laying down so I could cool down in front of the fan. My shower had been cold, but man, laboring gets you all kinds of hot! As soon as the next contraction hit, I was back up on all fours! And Stephen is getting a little antsy, because its now 9:35pm!

Yeah, so when we should be getting in the car, my contraction does something that has never happened spontaneously for me. My water breaks. Yep. I am halfway into my bedroom with the lower half in the bathroom. (Like I said, I had not made very much progress to the car.) Hannah had told me that in normal births, the water breaks when your body has dilated to being between 8-10 cm. So the internal dialog now is "ok, how dilated am I? If I am an 8, I can squeeze my legs together, have Stephen carry me to the car, and we'll be ok. If I am at a 10, its too late..." This is flashing through my mind, Stephen is on the phone with the midwife telling her my water broke. And then I felt the "Ring of Fire."

Hannah had described the "Ring of Fire" to me over the phone just two days earlier. Because I had an epidural with both girls, I had no idea what she was talking about. The "Ring of Fire" is used to describe the burning sensation that is felt when the baby is crowning. She told me not to push during this time and to allow the burning sensation to complete. About 30 seconds. After that, the baby head will have stretched everything, and tearing will be minimal. So I start counting... I didn't even make it to 5 and the burning stopped. And then my body, not me, began to push. Seriously, I had no control over it. I went to check my self, and yep, there was the head. I had told my mom the baby had crowned, and by the time she looked down to see if it really was or not, the baby's head was half way out. Literally, no control. She tells Stephen who is still on the phone with the midwife the baby's head is out, turns back to me, and looks to see that the cord is not around the baby's neck, and then the baby comes out!

At 10:42pm, Azariah Joseph Gomez joined our family. He was 19 1/4 inches long and 7 pounds 12 ounces. (Which is almost a full pound heavier than Rachel and a pound and a half heavier than Abigail.) The midwife is still on the phone, now getting directions to our home, and giving us directions on what to do till she got there. She missed him by 5 minutes. :) I am so glad that my "plan" to get to the Birth Center didn't work. If it had, the baby would have been born in the car or the hallway.

So, I only knew I was in real labor for two hours. The Castor Oil didn't take effect till sometime around 4am, while some would consider that a waste, its was actually kind of nice to not be worrying about the first postpartum bowel movement. (If you have never been a mom, this will remain a mystery to you.) I did not tear. I did tear with both Abigail and Rachel who were smaller, and while being supervised by an OB. My bleeding was minimal. Compared to the post bleeding I experienced with Abigail and Rachel, I actually thought something was wrong! My postpartum recovery has been WAY better with him!

Azariah Joseph, or AJ (as we affectionately call him), is a Rock Star! He took his mom's advice and put 10 days between his birthday and his sister Rachel's. The journey of his birth was crazy and memorable, and had a climatic ending I never could have written. (You hear of people who have babies in elevators and taxi cabs and wonder "how the heck did that happen? Didn't they know they were in labor?" Sometimes babies come faster than everyone expects and sometimes the body takes over and pushes them out without any effort on your behalf.

Ps. There will be a part 3 to this story, which you might be wondering "What's left to tell?" A lot actually. There is an entire spiritual journey that happened while I labored Azariah. And for me, that was the best part. Laboring him was one of the deepest spiritual experiences I have ever had.

Azariah Joseph Part 1

Our son was born last week and his story is quite amazing... Hold on tight... Its a long story...

So the story of our son's birth dates back to July 4th, 2005. Yep, you read that right. Not even three months after Stephen and I got married, we were at Camp Cedar Crest for summer camp, and during one of the sessions God gave Stephen the name of our son, Azariah Joseph. Azariah means "Helped by God" and Joseph (Stephen's middle name) means "May God Add or Provide."

Two daughters later, I was really starting to fear that I too might have only daughters like my mother and grandmother before me. Stephen said that if we had 3 girls in a row, we would be done. There was no way that he was going to risk being the father of 4 girls and subject himself to the crazy dynamics of my family of origin.

To our great delight, I got prenant in July of 2009. It was so exciting for us, but that excitement was short lived when we lost the baby at 13 weeks. It was an unplanned natural miscarriage in the bathroom of my inlaw's house the morning we were supposed to fly back to Portland. We waited six months before trying again, and that pregnancy too ended at 8 weeks. Even with the knowledge of being able to carry to healthy baby girls to full term, my baby hopes were really low.

We waited again, and got pregnant in November of 2010. Due to the last two pregnancies not making it past the third trimester, we did things a little differently. For one, we didn't announce our pregnancy until we knew the sex of the baby and second, I did not get prenatal care until 15 weeks. That might seem really strange, but when you have spent more money on the babies you have lost than the ones that have come full term, it makes sense. (Medically, there is nothing doctors can do the first trimester to stop a miscarriage. And considering I had already experienced two natural miscarriages, I figured I would spare myself the agony.)

After living in Portland for two years, my views on health care have radically changed, and I really did not want an OB. I wanted a midwife. Stephen and I met with one in Santa Clarita, less than two miles from our home. She was wonderful, but not covered by our insurance. I appealed to the insurance company, several times, and after being denied by the State, I gave up. We could not afford to pay for her out of pocket, not with Stephen being a "Stay At Home Dad" and full time student. I was crushed. So I found a highly recommended OB in Santa Clarita. HE WAS A NIGHTMARE!!! After three visits with his bedside manners, I knew I could not partner with him in the delivery of my son. So we made the decision to drive 52 miles to the closest midwife my insurance would cover.

My midwife in Camarillo was wonderful! Joyce was such a joy to work with. Rather than waiting 20 minutes to see an OB for all of 5 minutes, my appointments were always on time and she usually spent 20 to 40 minutes with me. The care was personal, and a wonderful reminder as to why I had wanted a midwife in the first place. And then, at my appointment in early June, Joyce informed me that the company of Doctors she worked with had decided not to renew their contract. She was basically laid off, with a bunch of others, and would not be permitted to deliver after June 30th. My due date was July 31st.

When Joyce told me that she was not able to deliver my baby, I laughed. Yep, I laughed. It had been such a crazy journey already, my midwife being laid off in my eighth month sounded about right. On my long drive home, I gave the situation to God. I cried. I was frustrated and confused and really did not want to be looking for a new provider so late in the game. And trying to find someone to take me so late in pregnancy was also going to be a challenge. So I did the one thing I know NEVER works. I gave God a time line for a miracle. Hilarious, I know. On that drive I told the Lord I would spend one week looking for a new midwife. At the end of that week, if I was not able to find a new midwife, I would let it go and find an OB.

I sent a mass email out to 24 different midwives within a 30 mile radius of our home. Most of them replied with not having an opening but recommending a midwife in Santa Clarita by the name of Renee Sicignano. Renee was the midwife we had met with when I had first gotten pregnant. And at the end of the week, at 4:00pm I met with Renee to give her all of my records and become a patient under her care. When we met, she said she knew she was supposed to work with us. Oddly, my name has been on her calendar as one of the moms for July, even though we never had an appointment. When the month of June rolled around, she decided that she should remove "Liz Gomez" from her calendar as she didn't even know who I was! But God knew. He made it so obvious, so that when I contacted her, she knew me by name and knew she could work with us. She was so compassionate to our situation, and made exceptions for us due to the craziness of the situation and our financial need. She is extraordinary, and that is not a complement I give out often.

As I started my care with Renee, I had to see a hematologist. My platelet count was low, and it could have some risks associated with it. Even trying to find a hematologist was difficult! I worried that my count would put me at a risk that would make it impossible for me to give birth out of hospital. On my drive to that appointment, I shared my fears with God, and again my frustration at the possibility of having to find ANOTHER provider. Then God gently reminded me of the miracle he provided with Renee. Of course, I shot back with "then why the heck do I need to go to the trouble of all of this?!" His response was gentle, that it wasn't for me, but a resource for Renee. Ok. So I went to the appointment, and everything is fine. The one thing he said that I wasn't expecting was "no epidural" due to possible paralysis. (Yeah, if a doctor had told me that epidurals could lead to paralysis, I never would have gotten one with the girls!)

The "no epidural" decree was actually for Stephen. He had been worried about the level of pain I would be in, and really didn't want to be around for that. But God knew. If I had been told 3 weeks before my due date that my birth plan of "no pain" was going to be changed, I would have freaked out. But God, in his great kindness knew that, so he put it in my heart to go "all natural" long before. When I had my next appointment with Renee, she was amazed at how wonderful Dr. Black had been to work with, including his staff. And her response was "he is going to be such a great resource to have." (Side note: stop questioning God's motives. They are always good.)

Then, there was the small detail of my midwife Renee going on vacation in July. For one week. The baby was not expected to come during those 7 days, but with the way things had already gone, there was a good chance that the back up midwife would be delivering the baby...

Where Have You Been?

Ok, so I have decided to start blogging again. Mainly because I need an outlet with our newest family addition.

But its been OVER TWO YEARS since my last post. And here's why...

I have been in pain. Not the kind of "my feelings are hurt and I don't want to talk about it" but deep, "I can't breathe right and I am having difficulty functioning" kind of pain.

And yes, its taken me over two years to be secure enough to start sharing my life again. If this seems like a mystery, consider yourself blessed. I would not wish my last two years on anyone.

The process of healing has been a powerful one, and someday I hope to share some of the darkness I had to navigate through. But probably only in bits and pieces... too much at one time could prove to be toxic.