I LF U

I looked beside me at the precious boy drawing letters on a blank piece of construction paper. He was sounding out what he was attempting to write. . . "I . . . LLLLuuFFFF UUU!!" And, to my sweet son "I love you" is spelled this way. . . "I LF U." To say my heart melted into a puddle on the kitchen floor is an understatement. I LF this little guy to pieces!!

When God Touches My Heart

When I walked the aisle at the age of 8, I didn't really understand what I was saying yes to. I think that I understood as much as most 8 year olds would? I know that a question of some sort was posed, and for me the answer to that question was yes. Did I want a savior? yes. Did I need a savior? yes. If the question had to do with God, my answer was going to be - yes. I didn't understand what it meant to be a follower, but I knew that I wanted to be a part of God and that is really all I knew. When I found myself at the end of the aisle and my pastor prayed with me, the tears began to fall. I couldn't stop them. They poured. I'm not sure our First Baptist Church had ever seen anything like it before. Most people went down the aisle a bit more composed, but I was weeping. And, I have no idea why. I wanted to stop, but I couldn't.

And, I have found through the years as I have walked with my God that this is the norm for me. Confrontation with His Spirit reduces me to a puddle of tears every single time. He never fails to have this effect on me. If a praise song touches me, I cry. If God speaks to my heart through a speaker or a Bible study lesson, the tears slowly fall. But, I am thankful for this. To me it means my heart is softened to Him. And, I like that. I like His power over my emotions. It is one way that He is tangible to me. I feel Him touching my heart, moving me, stirring emotions that only He can stir.

Today I was brought to puddle of teary mess twice. First by a Rob Bell video that I watched with the youth in Sunday School, and second by this Chris Tomlin video that I saw at Deidre's. So, enjoy, and I pray it stirs your soul, too!!!

Saving Lightning

Earlier this week Deana B. and I took our babes to the park. Somehow, completely unknown to me, Joshua got out of the car with one of his toys. My sweet son often asks permission to take toys from home with us on our journeys in the car. I allow him this privilege with only one stipulation. And, that is . . . he cannot take the toy out of the car until we return home. So, when we run in Wal-Mart or go to, say for instance, the park, the toy must remain in the carseat waiting for us to return to it. Then, we drive home bringing it safely back to its designated, neatly organized bin. My husband calls me a toy Nazi. But, in my opinion, I have to be. If I don't the toys will rise up and overtake me, and I am not ready to let that happen.

I digress. . .

So, shortly after we got out of the car and began playing at the park, I noticed Joshua hurling something red into the air. "What was that?" I asked. "Lightning McQueen!" he answered running to find him. I shook my head realizing what he had done, but choosing my battles carefully decided to keep my mouth shut and let this one go. After several hours of play (and by play I mean that Joshua continued to do the same thing over and over - throw his little red car up in the air and then hunt for it in the grass), something devastating happened. I watched as Joshua threw Lightning McQueen (or Mr. Queen, as JCT calls him) up in the air one last time. As clearly as if it were in slow motion, good old Lightning fell down out of the sky and slipped between the grates of a drainage ditch falling down, down, down into the nasty mess that lies deep below. My son's face went instantly pale. "I. . .I. . . was just trying to throw him to the tree. . . and he went down between those bars. . . " I wanted to cry for him. "Mommy can you get it?" he asked. I told him that I could not. He was silent for quite some time. Deana and I just looked at each other. Joshua knelt down beside the grate staring at Lightening who was lying amidst the mud and leaves and water in the drainage ditch. His next statement. . .

"We gotta call Pop! We gotta tell Pop what happened to Lightning." The boy knows where to go when he needs help - grandparents. He's sharp like that. So, we played a bit more and then left. But, Joshua never forgot. He talked about it all evening. He told everyone he saw the whole story. As we drove home from church that night, he started to worry about Lightning. "But, Mommy what if it rains on Lightning? We can't just leave him there." Shortly after this thought came, "But, if it rains on him, he will grow into a flower. A big, Big, BIG Lightening Mc Queen flower!!!!" And, so the talk continued. . .

On Friday we dropped the boys off at the babysitter so that Erik and I could have a nice dinner alone. On our way out of town, Erik stopped at the park. Let me preface this by saying - my husband looked nice, date clothes an all.

Erik: "Show me where Lightning is."
Erin: "You can't get to him. There is a grate over the ditch. Besides, you are dressed up. . ."
Erik: "Just show me where he is."

So, I took him to the place, and through the leaves and yuckiness, you could still see a little spot of red. Erik lifts up the grate. I didn't know that you could do that? Anyway, in his dress clothes he jumps down into the ditch and rescues a very dirty Lightning McQueen. I have never been more proud of my husband, the hero. He lifted himself back out of the ditch, replaced the grate, and walked to the car (without a smidge of mud anywhere on him). What a man! We placed Lightning in a bag, all muddy as he was, so that Joshua would know without a doubt that this was his Lightning rescued from the ditch. We had not gone to the store and bought him a new one. No, that would have been too easy. His father had rescued his Lightning. An act, I assure you, of pure love and selflessness.

When we picked Joshua up and showed him Lightning, he could not have been more pleased. He hugged his Daddy over and over. He thanked him, and together they gave Lightning a bath in the sink. And, all the while, I kept reminding Joshua, "Your Daddy loves you so much, little man. He loves you so much to get down in that ditch and get Lightning for you!" And, Joshua would just smile, look at Lightning, and hug his Daddy's neck.

My Sara

Two of my very best friends share the same name. One is my Sara (without an "h") and one is my Sarah (with an "h"). I love them both dearly for reasons unique to each friendship. Two days ago my Sarah celebrated her 31st birthday, and today my Sara celebrated her 31st birthday. Pretty much everyone who reads my blog has meandered over here from Sarah's blog, so you all know how very precious and wonderful she is.

But, let me take a second and tell you about my Sara. We grew up together in a small southern town. And, there is something to be said about the people who grow up with you. They know you, the real you. They are the people who, in some way or another, shape who you become.

I am going to attempt in one paragraph to sum up our friendship during some of the most pivotal years of our lives. . . I had alot of friends in high school, but Sara understood me on a deeper level. We were dreamers. Our conversations were deep, way below the surface. But, don't get me wrong we knew how to have fun, too! By the end of high school we were nicknamed the dynamic duo - either President of Vice President of nearly every club in school, Validictorian and Saludatorian, completely and whole-heartedly connected at the hip and the heart. We had this silly little ditch on the edge of town that we could both walk to from our houses. So, we would meet there. We called it "our place." And, we would sit on a gravel bridge across this drainage ditch throwing rocks into the water, watching the sun set over a wheat field, and talking about whatever our hearts were feeling at the time. Sometimes we laughed, sometimes we cried, but it was always genuine and heartfelt - real.

Well, after high school we went our separate ways. Sara's goal was to go to a private college, get an incredible education, and then attend medical school. My goal (not that I am proud of this now) was to go to the BIG state university, pledge the sorority that I had my heart set on, and marry a really handsome frat boy who would make lots of money and take care of me and my 2.5 children. What happened? She did exactly what she set out to do, and I took a few detours. I attended the BIG state university, pledged the sorority that I had my heart set on, but ended up transferring after my freshmen year. I felt God leading me to a small Christian school, and God blessed me with the friendships of my Sarah and Jen (who eventually led me to meet my husband - who is the antithesis of a frat boy, but is undoubtedly the man of my dreams).

Sara and I have remained close over the years though not as close as we both would have liked. You can imagine how completely blown away I was when she called me two years ago and told me that she was depressed, suicidal. I was pregnant - about to pop with JCT when she broke the news to me - a secret she had been keeping for some time - I think even from herself. Anyway, the next year, as she began the healing process, our friendship grew closer than it has been in years, a true blessing. She sent me this copy of a testimony she wrote for her church about what God has been teaching her over the past few years. I asked her for permission to share it with you all because I thought it was truly beautiful. God's grace is a beautiful thing, and I think all who read this can relate to that. . . Here it is. . .




"There is nothing that God can do with my life now" was what I wrote in my journal the morning I awoke in the hospital. I had spent years creating my "perfect life": finishing medical school, marrying, about to finish residency and start a competitive fellowship, but behind my smile, a vast emptiness was lurking. The day before I had given in to the pain and attempted to end my own life, and in that instant my carefully crafted image spiraled into something resembling a Lifetime movie gone bad.
My life had become a mixture of fear and guilt with a smattering of pride mixed in for good measure, and after there were no more tears to fall, a numbness, which cannot be explained in words, settled into my soul. After I was sure that I could not rescue myself, I finally asked God to step in. I wish that I could say that I then had an "aha" moment with lights shining down from heaven and was instantly transformed into a mentally healthy soldier for Christ. I am sure God could've done it that way. Instead He chose to heal me through a process, one that has been long, not always pretty, and certainly not fun for those who were forced to come along for the ride. A process that involved dealing with wounds which were deeper than I had remembered. One that often left me wondering, "will I make it through this?"
My self-sufficiency, which previously made me feel as if somehow I could earn God's approval, was traded in for God's amazing grace in the face of my failure. Romans 8:1 became my battle cry, and I would fight my negative thoughts with "there is no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus". I found that I needed the body of Christ desperately, and their prayer touched me in a powerful way. A stranger who heard my story at a prayer group called to tell me that the Holy Spirit had led him to pray Psalm 3:3 over me during his morning run. I saw Christ in my husband who loved me selflessly even in the face of great pain. I learned to lay myself at the feet of Christ in the midst of depression, to thank Him for His love even when I didn't feel it, to worship Him even if it was with a heavy heart. And slowly, masterfully, He became my healer.
Throughout this, I have been given the privilege to relate to family, friends, and patients in similar circumstances with newfound empathy. That sometimes the best advice is better spent holding a hand silently and crying with someone in pain. A dear friend asked me the other day if I thought I would always struggle with depression. I do not have the answer to that, but I do know that I am better broken, dependent wholly on Christ. I am learning that God loves me just as much now as He did when I presented myself so "perfectly" to Him. He sees my healing wounds, and He still thinks I am beautiful. Oh Lord, do not let me forget what you have done for me.

2 Good Reasons to Celebrate!

I am still a bit behind due to our little internet miscommunication problems. I have had some family and a dear friend (yes, you Sara) request some pics from the boys birthday parties. Better late than never!

Joshua had a Thomas cake - complete with Annie and Clarabel behind (they didn't make the picture). And, James Christofer had a James cake complete with coal tender. Every year I swear that next year I WILL NOT do it again. I will buy their cakes or have them made, but I WILL NOT make them. And, by the time the next birthday rolls around . . . I do it again. A hopeless case am I!

The boys had one birthday party. They shared it. And, I don't think that they minded it one bit!! Both love trains - Thomas to be exact, so as you can tell by the cakes, we had a Thomas themed party this year!! The night before the party I could harldly sleep. I was so excited!! I couldn't wait for them to experience the balloons, friends, cake, presents, all the wonderful things that go along with children's birthday parties!!

And, the day was a day like no other. I watched as my firstborn play with his friends, and I was awestruck by how BIG he is! I thought back to the day he was born. I don't think I really believed he'd ever be 4! Somehow, I thought he would be a baby forever, and then, I blinked and what happened? He grew, and he has friends, and he likes to play with trains and my baby has turned into a little boy. And, my JCT, is not really a baby anymore. He is 2!! He reminds me of this daily when he looks at me with confident green eyes and says, "I can do it. . . by mysef." My little do-it-yourself man is growing up!

Notice in the background of the picture of JCT and Joshua getting ready to blow out their candles - there is a little boy with a basketball on his shirt. This is Reed, a.k.a. Joshua's "bestest buddy." Reed is a little miracle. His parents tried to have children for over 10 years. They had two children during that ten year period that were born too early and lived only a few days - one was a boy and the other a little girl. Reed was born when Lisa was 23 weeks pregnant. He weighed a whopping 1 pound and 1 ounce, and just look at the little guy now!! He is a happy healthy independent little 4 year old!! A blessed miracle he is, and we love him to pieces.

I love this picture. I am not sure why? I love that the picture of Joshua and James Christofer is in the background. And, I love that Joshua looks as if he is thinking, deeply. He is my deep thinker boy, and goodness, I love him. And, I love JCT, and what could be better than a day to celebrate the two of them. They are reasons to celebrate that is for sure!

Not Just Any Other Day - Part 2

Let's see, part 1 ended with my Joshua's "birth" day, February 4, 2003. We enjoyed Joshua as a baby and knew that we wanted to have another. We chose to forego any use of BC in order to let God give us another whenever He chose - praying that wouldn't take long. It took a little longer than we had hoped, but on Father's Day, June 20, 2004, we found out that we would be expecting baby #2. We were ecstatic! Dr. Young gave us the official due date - February 25, 2005.

Now the nine months that followed didn't have quite the same magical feel to them as the months prior to Joshua's birth. . . I was nauseated off and on during the first trimester - something I didn't experience at all with Joshua. And, the second trimester had something else waiting for me. . . varicose veins. Ugh. I dawned support hose in late October and kept them on all the time (except at night) throughout the rest of my pregnancy. And, I am a girl who hates hose, hates hose. They itch. They are confining. But, I knew that he would be well worth it. I didn't have quite as much time to relish the pregnancy because this time I was chasing a little one year old around. But, I enjoyed it nonetheless. . .

We didn't really think JCT would be as early as Joshua. With Joshua I had a kidney stone at about week 34, and we wondered if all the painful sleepless nights, etc. threw me into an early labor. I guess you never really know when a baby will come. All the sudden one day God stirs something inside the little one and whispers, "It's your time to come. . ." And, the little one makes his way out of our bellies and into our world. And, other than through the use of modern medicine, we have little to no control over all of this. . . I think that is great. Godspeed.

The pregnancy went along as normal - a contraction here or there - nothing noteworthy. Until February 3rd. . . I was scheduled to see Dr. Y on Friday, Feb. 4th for my first weekly appointment and my first time to be checked. So, on Thursday the 3rd, I had no idea if I was progressing at all. I woke up that morning with a lot to do on my daily planner. Joshua's 2nd birthday party was scheduled for Saturday, and I was going to attempt a 3-D Bob cake and a flat Larry cake. I am an overachiever, but a 3-D Larry Cake was just a bit above my skill level. So, a friend came over to help me take care of Joshua while I baked and iced the cakes. I contracted all morning from 9 to noon. I remember occasionally wanting to sit down because the contractions were fairly strong. I decided that if I was still contracting that evening when Erik got home I would tell him. But, the contractions tapered off at noon, and I forgot all about them. We had a babysitter sit with Joshua that night and we, get this, went out for Mexican food with another couple. I guess it is something about Mexican food? We came home - still no contractions. I rode the stationary bike and then decided to scrapbook for a few minutes before going to bed. I was determined to get Joshua's scrapbook caught up before JCT came.

And, this is when it happened. . . I simply bent over to pick up a piece of paper. . . small pop. I literally felt this tiny little bubble burst, so strange. And, I stood up and thought, "Could that be my water? Nahhh." I took 2 steps and felt it. . . drip, drip. In less than a second all these thoughts ran through my head, "Lord, have mercy. No. Not now. Not tonight. I'm tired. I just want to go to bed. You are kidding me. I was going to be ready this time. This time I was going to have a bag packed, baby clothes washed, the nursery set up and ready. Please, give me a week." Let me just say, that I am not a night owl. I am very much a morning person, so the thought of laboring at night was not super appealing. I think I bargained with God to let me wait until morning, but He said, "No."

So, I took a few more steps, testing the water - no pun intended. But, the drip continued. . . I walked into the living room where my sweet husband was watching Sports Center. "I think my water just broke," I said, and walked past him to the bedroom without even making eye contact. I sat on the potty, water started really gushing out. I looked up to see Erik standing in the doorway (I am so proud that he left Sports Center for me - that says alot). I got up and let him check me. He said he thought that I was about 3 cm dilated. That was all it took. . . I started shaking uncontrolably and crying. We called Dr. Y who wanted me to come to the Women's Center asap. Great. When you want to go natural, this is not the way you want labor to go. . . My water was broken, and I was not contracting. I could literally see the nurses hanging bags of Pitocin while I lay in bed in fetal position writhing in pain.

We called a friend to stay at our house with our sleeping Joshua. And, at around 11 p.m. we left for the hospital - a 30 minute drive. It was somewhere between our house and the hospital that it hit me. I looked at the clock in the car. "Erik," I said, "I'm not going to have this baby within the next hour. He's going to be born on Joshua's birthday." And, we just looked at eachother - confused - should we smile or cry? "Oh, me," I thought, "This is not what I had planned. . ." I was still shaking, but, thankfully, I started contracting on the way to the hospital. By the time we got there, I was 5 cm.

We called my parents. They were on their way, but they had a 4 hour drive. My nurse, oh me, I shouldn't complain. I was just so blessed the first time. Let's just say that she was very green and not accustomed to natural labors. The contractions intensified, and by 3 a.m. I was ready to push. Erik disappeared to put on scrubs, and I was left with my darling young blond nurse who was more interested in playing with monitors than assisting in my labor. Several contractions I pushed, counting alone in my head, while she worked on things around the room - completely unaware that I was even contracting. Oh, how I missed my mom! But, in the end, all was well and James Christofer Truett came out sunny side up with the cord wrapped around his neck twice!

I am thankful for the minutes after everyone cleared out of the room. It was quiet - just Erik, JCT, and me. And, we enjoyed the peace of those moments after the craziness of the last 4 hours. . .
I couldn't believe that I was holding him. He was supposed to be in my belly. But, he was here - 3 weeks early and all at once - boom - he was here!

Oh, and needless to say, I opted for the wheelchair this time. I wasn't much in the mood for a victory march. I felt a bit wounded and very, very tired.


I never slept that day. I just couldn't. I couldn't wait to introduce my boys. Erik brought Joshua later that day, and quite possibly my favorite moment on earth transpired. . . I'll never forget how he looked when he walked in the room. I was sitting in the hospital bed, and in walked my big boy. . . on his 2nd birthday. He had on an orange winter hat and a big brother t-shirt, and he looked precious. Without saying a word or anyone directing him, he walked over to the bassinet and peeked inside. It is a picture that will never leave my heart. . . It was love at first sight. Joshua adored him, absolutely adored him. He examined his little fingers and toes. He wanted to hold him. He loved him. By far, JCT was the best birthday present Joshua got that year! The gift that will keep on giving, right?

Although they were arguing the other day and Joshua looked up at me and said, "Mommy, do you think we could just sell him back to Dr. Young?" I don't really think he meant it. At least, I hope not. Ahhhh. . . the bonds of brotherhood.

And so, February 4th, will never be just another day to me. It is a super special day to me - the day of my oldest boys' births. And, I will say that as we celebrated the boys' birthday, the thought crossed my mind, "Elijah, are you going to come on February 4th, too?" But, it was not his time, not yet. . . He still has a few months of growing to do.

How fun it is to look back over the years - the four years of my Joshua and the two years of my JCT. They may share a birthday, but they are cetainly unique. Joshua is my sweet boy and JCT my silly boy. One makes my heart warm with his tenderness and the other makes my heart laugh with his silliness. But, both of them make my heart swell with pride and thankfulness.

Valentines 2007

Valentines Day 2007 could have ended at 7:00 a.m. if you ask me. I had already received all the love I needed by that time! At 2 a.m. in the morning, Erik woke up, rolled over, and said, "I love you." He does this occasionally from time to time when he wakes up in the middle of the night. He whispers sweet things to me. Sometimes I acknowledge them and sometimes I am just too sleepy. But, his next sentence touched my little heart. He said, "I love you so much it's crazy. I really do." Now that woke me up enough to respond with an "I love you, too," before I quickly returned to my near comatose state. Then, at 6:45 I woke up to an adorable little red headed boy standing beside my bed with a big smile. As soon as I opened my eyes, Joshua said, "Happy Valentines Day. I love you, Sweetie." And, I decided that I could just cover myself back up and go to sleep because the day was complete! All the love I needed. . .

Not Just Any Other Day - Part 1

For years I wrote this date over and over. . . On the top left hand corner of college rule notebook paper, on nursing flow sheets, on letters to friends, etc. Over and over I wrote it, February 4, ####, but it was just any other day to me. But all that changed in 2003 when for the first time February 4th became a significant day. And, little did I know it in 2003 - but that was only the beginning of why that day would become one of the most prized dates on my calendar - hence the 2 parts to this post.

After 6 or so months of trying to conceive, God chose to begin a little life in my womb. And, June 12, 2002 will go down in my book as one of the happiest days of my life. For the first time, I saw the 2 pink lines smiling back at me from a skinny little stick. Dr. Y gave me the date of February 17th as my official due date, and the nine months that followed were nothing short of magical to me. I loved, cherished, and lived to the full every moment of those 9 months. No regrets. I wasn't working during those 9 months. I volunteered at a Crisis Pregnancy Center nearby and had time to spare, time to soak in every moment of the experience. Precious memories. . .

I decided early on in the pregnancy that I wanted to have a completely natural labor. I wanted to experience it to the full, every bit of it. . . I read everything that I could get my hands on about natural labor, watched Baby Story on TLC daily, and spent hours trying to remember everything I could from my clinical experience in labor and delivery during nursing school. I was not confident that I would be able to do the whole natural labor thing, but I was going to give it my best shot. Erik was sure. He is my confidence when I am lacking. He was determined that I would do it, and he was more than willing to do everything to help me make this dream come true - even if it meant reading 2 Bradley books cover to cover and attending 3, yes 3, sets of pregnancy and labor classes. I think the entire nine months were consumed with baby this and baby that. And, I loved every last minute of it - so much so that I wasn't ready to let it go. . .

On January 31, 2003 Erik and I went to see our OB. He was scheduled to check me for the first time. Erik and I expected to hear something like, "You are a fingertip dilated. We will see you next week. . ." Dr. Y was running late that day. It was after 5:00 when he finally got into our room and the office was becoming a ghost town. . . Erik sat beside me in a little chair. Dr. Y asked me if I had felt any contractions yet, and I assured him that I had not felt anything. He checked me and then rolled his little chair backward smiling. . . And, with a half laugh, he said, "Are you sure you haven't felt anything?" I assured him, nervously, that I had not. "Well, you are 3 cm dilated, 80% effaced, and your membranes are bulging. You won't make it until your next appointment." Erik literally came out of his chair. He was so excited. I was scared. I smiled, agreed to come back on Monday for my Group B strep test, and promised to call if I started having regular contractions over the weekend. I remember feeling like someone had hit me in the stomach. I was so scared. I had expected to be late - or at least on time - not early.

We ate dinner and went to a movie with some friends of ours. When the evening was over and it was just Erik and I again, I started crying and cried all the way home - a 30 minute drive. We took our last "belly picture" when we got home that night, and it is easy to see that my eyes were still red and teary. I was scared - scared to endure the uncertainty of my first labor, but mostly, scared to be a mom. Having Joshua inside of me was one thing, a wonderful thing, but having him on the outside was something completely different, something quite frightening to me. I was afraid of sleepless nights, of a baby who I couldn't console, of a whole myriad of things. . .

But, as always, life went on. . . I think I felt a couple contractions over the weekend - nothing that concerned me. On Monday morning I went to see Dr. Y. He checked me again and said gleefully, "You are almost 4 cm! I can make you 4 cm and go ahead and admit you if you'd like." Before he could even say the last of that, I quickly replied, "No, thanks. I'll just wait. I'll call you if I start having regular contractions." This was not the response that he expected, but it was my response. All day I felt like I was about to start my period, so I sat around hoping to put the inevitable off a little longer. I knew the time was drawing near and there was only so much that I could do. . . Erik and I went out for Mexican food that night. We called it our "Last Supper," knowing that we wouldn't eat out alone again for awhile. Then, I lay my little head on my pillow and slept until the contractions woke me up the next morning. . .

And, so I woke up that morning, Tuesday, February 4, 2003. There was no denying it. It was time. My darling husband took his sweet time showering, calling his office and his friends, and packing a little bag. We finally arrived at the hospital around 8:30 that morning. Erik stopped me as we walked into the hospital. We stood there in the parking lot and held eachother - a sweet moment on a sweet day. I checked in and was taken immediately back. I was already 7 cm. Dr. Y asked me if I wanted him to break my water. I declined. It was a wonderful day, a perfect day. The sky was blue, the weather a crisp cool, my mom made it to the hospital on time, and I had a wonderful nurse. The pain seemed surprisingly bearable. When Dr. Y checked me at 11:30 and I was only 8 cm., I agreed to let him break my water. Okay, this is when the bearable became a bit unbearable. I went from 8 to 10 in like 3 contractions. I kept telling my beloved husband that I felt like I needed to push. He kept encouraging me to wait one more contraction and "then we'll call the nurse." He finally called the nurse, and everyone came in ready to the job they do everyday. But, it was all new to me, and I watched intently. Erik, my coach, left to change into scrubs (Dr. Y agreed to let him deliver the baby), so my mom stepped in. And, at 12:33 Joshua was born. They plopped that little red, wet baby on my tummy facing me. And, I just stared in amazement - that came out of me! That darling little baby was inside me? all this time? Whoa.

It was by far the best day of my life, at least in 2003 it was. Erik was so proud of his son and of me. And, I felt his pride. I felt it so strongly, and I loved it, basked in it. Oh, and get this. . . I walked, this is crazy, from my labor room to my post partum room. Yes, one hour after giving birth I walked the corridors of the Women's Center. Thankfully, I didn't pass out! It was a great day, and that was my victory march!!

Joshua was beautiful. He was perfect. I couldn't bear to let him sleep in that silly bassinet. After all, he was used to being inside me, and the bassinet was much too far away, you know, beside my bed and all. So, I slept with him on my chest. I was uncertain about many things - but I was more than certain of one thing. I had never felt love like this before. I changed that day, Febuary 4, 2003, and I will never be the same person I was before. And, that is a good thing, a very good thing. But, the story doesn't end in 2003. . .

A Scrapbook of Sorts. . .

Oh, me! Where to begin?? We have been having some technical difficults at our home! Due to a mix-up with our internet provider, we have been without internet access for over a week!! But, thankfully we have gotten it all worked out - or so we hope!!!

Oh, and the chocolate cobbler that you all asked about. . . I didn't make it - sorry to disappoint! A drug rep brought it to Erik's office with lunch, and Erik (my darling husband) brought some home to me!! It was good, very good.

Being without internet for a week made me realize how much blogging has become a part of my life. I missed reading my favorite blogs - catching up on all the sweet families that I have come to know and love. I hated that I wasn't able to post my boy's birthday pictures for my parents (who were unable to be at their party) to see. But, mostly I missed being able to journal my life. This blog has become a scrapbook of sorts for me. I love to scrapbook, but I have always been unable to stay current. And, that has always been a huge frustration for me. When Sarah introduced me to blogging, I had no idea how much I would love it, how much I would need it!

For the first time since my sweet Joshua was born, I feel content that I am not forgetting things. I am capturing the cute stories when they are fresh on my mind. I print out all my posts and keep them in a notebook. And, this notebook is my little scrapbook of sorts. Suddenly I don't feel so guilty about the fact that my real scrapbooks are a wee bit behind - because the stories aren't lost. I have captured them as they have happened - a snapshot of these wonderful days - hard times, good times, and lessons God is teaching me. I love it! I am so thankful for this little hobby!

On that note, today the boys had the great privilege of meeting 2 of their favorite cartoon characters. We are huge Veggietales fans!! Joshua's 2nd and 3rd birthday parties were veggietale themed! I got quite good at making Bob and Larry cakes and Junior and Jimmy and Jerry. . . Anyway, today we went to "Bob and Larry's house" as Joshua calls Lifeway, and the boys met the beloved tomato and cucumber! They were so excited!!