Why India?

India Watercolor

One of the very first questions we get when we share our intent to adopt is,

"Why India?"

Answer:

Lots of reasons.

-Why not India?

-India is a beautiful country, rich in culture and traditions from long before our time. The bright colors, beautiful people, distinct foods, unique animals, and the like all have their certain appeal.

http://www.theatlantic.com/infocus/2012/03/the-colors-of-holi-2012/100259/

-Children are children are children. American children, Asian children, or African children - RED, YELLOW, BLACK, OR WHITE - they are PRECIOUS in His sight. And all children want a mama and daddy. All children want to have a family, and a home, and memories, and traditions. All children want to be hugged and kissed when they skin their knee. All children want pictures of themselves hanging in their home. All children, whether they know it or not, want a support system - a place that is safe - people who love them unconditionally. Not a single child on this entire planet wants to think they are not worthy of love... not worth being fought for... not wanted by someone.

When I think about my biological children, I consider 2 things:
1) If I ever HAD to give even one of them up for adoption... how might my heart might explode! I would pray with every breath, every ounce of my being that someone would love them they way I wish I could. With every ounce of my energy I would hope that, by some miracle, God would give them the family that I couldn't provide - one of love, strength, protection, friendship, and free of harm.
2) If I could see the BIG PICTURE that God alone sees, and one of my children wasn't "born" to me but was WHEREVER just waiting for me... what WOULDN'T I do to get to them!! I would fight. I would cry. I would raise a million dollars. I would desperately seek any way that I could to get them home safely to my arms. Nothing could stop this mama bear - be it hell or high water, mama's getting her raft and Jesus is preparing the way. I know this is true for every mama out there.

-This is my "don't be embarrassed" story... I know God works in a myriad of ways. One way He worked in our hearts was through film - an independent film and a documentary. I'm not sure the first time I saw Slumdog Millionaire, but I can assure you, it rocked my world, and is still one of my very favorite movies of all time. The conditions of the slums is something I knew little of. Slumdog literally puts you into a world of the poorest of poor... and eventually orphans - seeking to change their own destiny.
Born Into Brothels was the 2nd film that captivated my heart. This documentary is about a photographer who wants to understand, love, and help some of the slum children in the red-light district. So she goes in there and realizes they'll never accept her alone into their world, she'll never see everything as it truly is. So she gives a group of children cameras, she teaches them to use them, and they capture STUNNING images of their world. Through her photography project, she tries to get them into better schools, out of the slums, and really seeks to empower these sweet children, to show them that they have a choice.
Having seen these two films, years ago, once we seriously started talking adoption, there was no other option in my heart and mind. India was it for us.

http://www.kids-with-cameras.org/kidsgallery/

-There are an estimated 25 million orphans in India. Recently, India has done an excellent job of promoting in-country adoption - so Indian orphans are being welcomed into homes of Indian families.  This is amazing news - and is as it should be. However, most Indians want that perfectly healthy, typical baby. Very few are willing to adopt special/individual needs, thus, children with special needs are adopted out to international families. Special needs can range from a birth mark (yes, you read that right) to Down Syndrome, HIV, Cerebral Palsy, being blind or deaf, missing extremities, being small in stature, heart problems, tumors, etc, etc, etc. And because of India's specific adoption system, many Indian children are being overlooked.

I have been informed that India works this way: Indian children with special needs will probably not end up on your average "waiting children" lists (these are lists that are published via the internet with information and often photos of children with individual needs - the hope is that word will spread and these babes will quickly find families because of their moment in the spotlight). In order to see India's children with individual needs you must be approved by your agency (meaning a complete and approved homestudy), choose India as your country of choice, AND be approved by their adoption system. Once all of this has occurred, you can actually view the full profile of approximately 30 children a month. (Each agency that works with India can see a limited number of children's profiles (all with individual needs), and those children must be "claimed" or they rotate out of the system and new children are rotated in -- this process happens on a monthly basis.) In other words, some children literally may have one chance of being adopted. Thirty days. ONE CHANCE.

I cannot tell you how many articles, blogs, and websites I read, or how many different agencies I had to talk to get this information. No one had concrete answers. No one really knew how to respond to my questions. FINALLY! I found an agency that could help me out -- someone with real knowledge of India and their new system. DO YOU KNOW why I couldn't find the info? Because it's not out there... yet. Which also means, very few people know about the orphan crisis in India. There IS a great need! A HUGE NEED! But people just don't know it.

-It is no secret that young girls are being trafficked all over the world. Sold into prostitution, kidnapped and forced into prostitution, or prostitution is their "only option". I've heard of girls aging out of their orphanage and on the day of their departure out into the world, alone, without a soul to fight for them, men are waiting... offering jobs and training in different fields... they go with these men... and poof! They're gone. Lost into a world of devious, money hungry, soul crushing pimps, drug lords, and trafficking rings. India is no exception.

Father to the fatherless, defender of widows — this is God, whose dwelling is holy. 

God places the lonely in families.

Psalms 68:5-6

I know this is a lengthy post and their are many heavy heavy issues in here, some of which I barely or poorly touched on. Thank you for seeing it through to the end. I could write about all of this FOREVER. But mainly, I want to write about it because I want to help GET THE WORD OUT -- India is FULL of "unwanted" children, often considered "untouchables". We believe God has set aside one of them for us.

today is a new day.

We are the same as many of you. The ins and outs of changing from a teenager to an adult - from kids reliant on everyone else - to older kids who can pay bills, cook food, and in-turn, be relied on by a tiny person - that shift, that season of life is like learning to walk on a blow-up exercise ball. I don't mock this process - mine was an extreme kick in the pants, and WE WERE READY for marriage, ready for a mortgage, ready for a baby. Yet, here we are, two adults, three Miglets later. Somehow we've survived this far. We have fun every day. We love our family. We make it through hectic schedules, tight finances, and crazy stages of child/parent development. God is good.

When we started talking about having kids, I said I wanted 8. Yep, EIGHT. Ty has always said he wanted 3. haha! Eventually I moved down to 5, and then I thought, "Well, 3 is a good round number. Especially if I don't ever have to push out another baby." HAHAH! I laugh at this. Childbirth rocked my world each time. 3 babies in 5 years - nursing or pregnant for 6 SOLID YEARS. My body is tired. So we decided that for now, no more babies will be birthed into our family.

...looming in the back of my mind, I have always thought, "but maybe we'll adopt one day." Seriously, there has never been a time when that wasn't an option for me. Baby Daddy on the other hand, has always scoffed at my thought process. He almost passed out each and every time I told him I was pregnant. Then it took a solid month before He could talk about a new baby without a bit of panic creeping in. I knew we would NEVER be able to consciously CHOOSE to have a child, that is, to sign a paper for adoption. Never without an actual God-reach-His-hand-down-into-our-lives-and-make-it-happen -  a miracle.

Our closest friends, Aaron & Jenny, had already had multiple adoption experiences... and they were currently in (and still are in) process for sweet V. I had been extremely exposed to the thoughts of adoption, special needs adoption, and what it all looks like, what it all means, for several months. Still, the tangible ideas surrounding adoption were distant and aloof.

A few days after my sweet Lu turned 1 whole year old, I read this post over at another blog with a very similar name. (Re-reading it 6 months later, it still gives me chills and brings the waterworks.) I could not let it go. So this is what it looks like for a child who very well might NEVER have hope for a future, and now NOTHING is out of reach. Nothing is impossible. Over the next few days, I went back and read it again and again. I even sat Ty down and took him through the pictures, telling the story as if we knew these people and I had been verbally told these details. I thought about it so much, I literally had no choice but to pray about it as the days and weeks went on. When something KEEPS coming back to mind, it manages it's way into your prayers as well - even if you are an inconsistent, scatterbrained pray-er, such as myself. I decided to verbally commit to praying over these adoption-centered thoughts for an entire month. I sketched some words in red sharpie onto my inner wrist to help me remember to keep thinking and praying.

The time came that I finally brought up the discussion with Ty. I KNEW what his reaction would be, and I KNEW I had to take it slow. 1st time - "I don't want to talk about this..." 2nd time - "You're such a dreamer Linds..." 3rd time - "You know you'd want to bring ALL of them home with you..."And from there it became a constant conversation between us. The more we talked about it, read about it, researched it, and asked God to show us His will - not our own, the more it was like we were talking about OUR baby. Our child. 

From November to May, 6 solid months of preparation... our hearts and minds were being molded and shifted... and last week WE TURNED IN OUR INTERNATIONAL ADOPTION APPLICATION!!!!

We feel that God has set aside a precious little Mig girl in the beautiful country of INDIA (more on this to come) and we are working, working, through the initial phases of our homestudy (work!). We hope to bring her home some time in 2014.

We are so excited about this. I can't believe it's happening and I get "roller coaster tummy" every time I think about it. What a joy a new child will be!!

Please pray for us as we begin this journey. Pray that the Lord prepares our hearts and our family to struggle through this battle as we wait, and pray, and long to welcome #4 HOME! Pray that she is protected (as she is probably already ALIVE right now!!!) as she waits for a family to call her very own. 

Stay up-to-date with us -- we will begin fundraising soon!

And thank you for loving us through this, dear friends. I have been ecstatic to share this news with you for quite some time. We consider each and every one of you a blessing in our lives!

You are the helper of the fatherless. LORD, You have heard the desire of the humble; 

You will prepare their heart; You will cause Your ear to hear, To do justice to the fatherless 

and the oppressed, That the man of the earth may oppress no more.

Psalms 10:14,17-18

Bombs and Babies

I have so many random thoughts swarming in my mind about the recent events occurring in Boston. 

-When the media swarms in on a potential suspect and zeroes in on his past, old pictures, where he came from - ESPECIALLY WHEN HE WAS A NORMAL KID, it makes me feel like I knew him. So, in my gut, I have this feeling of loss. Sadness over the loss of a perfectly good life. The victims of the bombing make my heart scream in sadness, but I have to imagine the possibility of if I knew them... if they were my kin, child, or school-age friend. This is where I think the media fails. So much time and attention is spent on the bomber, we forget that lives were taken, that families are grieving, that people will never come home again, that people have lost the ability to walk down the street or to type with two hands. Every angle is tragic. People were killed. Sin abounds. Satan feels victorious. 


-Now, our country rages against this young man. The boy, Dzhokhar  (Jo-har) who was a normal American teenager and is now a "murderer" and a "terrorist". He was perhaps brainwashed or at the very least duped into someone elses battle, and he will pay with his life or loss of life. He is the only one left to "point" at and blame. He is guilty. But he is human. He was a friend, a classmate, a cousin, a competitor. He was a woman's baby, her youngest child. He had happy times and sad times. Birthdays and funerals. That is all gone. My heart is burdened for his soul. I pray he meets Jesus and learns of the Living Water that is only offered through trusting in His Holy Name.

For, we are all capable of such atrocities. We are all lost without the love and mercy of the Christ. We murder in our hearts and we lust after things that kill the flesh.

For we ourselves were once foolish, disobedient, led astray, slaves to various passions and pleasures, passing our days in malice and envy, hated by others and hating one another.  Titus 3:3

As it is written: “None is righteous, no, not one; no one understands; no one seeks for God.  Romans 3:10-11

The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately sick; who can understand it?  Jeremiah 17:9

And you were dead in the trespasses and sins in which you once walked, following the course of this world, following the prince of the power of the air, the spirit that is now at work in the sons of disobedience— among whom we all once lived in the passions of our flesh, carrying out the desires of the body and the mind, and were by nature children of wrath, like the rest of mankind. Ephesians 2:1-3 

We are all capable.


-Perhaps one of the most tragic aspects of the Boston Bombing story, is the fact that it is stealing the tiny bit of light shining on another case... 

Kermit Gosnell is not just another abortionist in America. Beyond slaughtering thousands of unborn babies, he kept their body parts in jars, containers, cat food canisters, and the freezer. He delivered late-term babies, alive, and then stuck a pair of scissors in their neck and snipped the spinal cord. One of his nurses testified that a baby was not deceased after an abortion, but Gosnell left him/her on a shelf - screaming, mauled, alone, to die. 

He ate in his "surgical" rooms. 

He let multiple flea-infested cats roam the office. 

His machine that properly sterilized his surgical equipment was broken for years. 

He aborted babies in underage girls who did not want the abortion, but their mother did.

He aborted several babies where the mother changed her mind on the table, but because anesthetics had already been administered, he continued the procedure.

He transferred stds to several of his patients (verified on minors who did not have the std before visiting his clinic). 

He allowed rusty equipment and blood spatter to abound in his clinic.

He had a cleaner, more updated room for the white women.

He made many of his patients sterile.

He allowed untrained, uncertified "nurses" to assist with the abortions, including administering anesthesia (sometimes over 500x the needed dosage). 

He killed (at least) two of his patients.

He made millions of $$ each year.

This is the tip of the iceberg for the case against Kermit Gosnell. Yet the media was paying it ZERO attention until the prolife community forced the issue with a #Gosnell Tweetfest on twitter. We need to keep talking about this - and bring light to such a dark industry. "We share this story [of Gosnell] not to "win" but in the service of truth, beauty, justice, and human dignity. To cover this is to allow more evil to continue. This must not be."2 The more we talk about it, the more people can really struggle with the hard questions surrounding abortion. The more we talk about it, the more justice can be done as we allow healing for those that have made the devastating decision to abort. The more we talk about it, the fewer will get away with such heinous crimes in the future. "No matter how well-kept the abortion clinic, no matter how sanitary the abortionist's tools, abortion is still an unspeakable act of violence against children and against their mothers. That's reality, and it can't be sanitized."1

Four people died at the hands of the Boston Bombers. Thousands and thousands died at the hands of Kermit Gosnell. Evil abounds but we must be light. “You are the light of the world. A city set on a hill cannot be hidden. Nor do people light a lamp and put it under a basket, but on a stand, and it gives light to all in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father who is in heaven." Matthew 5:14-16

May lives be saved physically and eternally. And may God receive the glory forever and ever. Amen.

http://thegospelcoalition.org/blogs/tgc/2013/04/16/a-different-kind-of-back-alley/ 


1 - http://www.usatoday.com/story/opinion/2013/04/18/abortion-live-action-editorials-debates/2095169/
2 - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7222bz2amY4&feature=youtu.be

rooted.boon.

for years i've been clueless on what to call my creations (namely, my signs, but who knows what the future holds?!). so i just sent them off with my email address written on the back. but 3 days ago something was driving me to come up with a name for my etsy shop, and thus, my work.

the final product: rooted. boon.

my thought process went something like this...

i love to create things with my hands. scratch that. i HAVE to create things with my hands. something that i have to mull over, make a plan, execute my plan, make changes if necessary, and see my final product all within a limited time frame. it is my therapy. i'm not sure why, but i do know, when i'm not creating, it's like my brain doesn't function correctly. i can't organize my thoughts or my days. i can't focus on one thing at a time. and i cannot manage to be (no matter how hard i try) my naturally optimistic self.

((i tried cooking. that was a total FAIL. i am so much a perfectionist that if my meals didn't come out absolutely perfect AND delicious (which was a rare event), i felt miserable. it is hot and exhausting work. and when you're done, it disappears. GONE. and then you have a mountain to clean up. nope. not for me. i love to eat and i am SO thankful for those people in my life who create delicious food for my mouth and belly, but it's just not for me.))

((i tried gardening for 3 years. between miserably HOT summer days, nasty bugs like you would not believe, being anywhere from 4-8 months pregnant, and rarely having enough crop to eat... yeah. not for me either.))

my creative abilities and needs weren't randomly given to me though. it is evident, in my family line, that many of the women have been bitten with the creative bug! one of our great-great grandmothers was an expert at tatting. my great-grandmother, nannie craven used to sew professionally. she gave sewing lessons and had customers that she frequently made outfits for. one of her pupils loved her so much, that the girl's father actually gave my great-grandmother and great-grandfather some land - the land that my family still lives on and farms today. nannie also could crochet like no one's business. my grandmother could also sew and crochet. one of my aunts is an incredible seamstress and embroidery buff. and another aunt was the first female to go through the woodworking program at lanier tech. all of these women crafted in many different ways and their passion came through in their work!

more recently in my life, i have been beyond blessed by my husband's family and all of their talents. literally all of my inlaws are crafters of one kind or another. especially the women. my mother-in-law, beckie,  so graciously bought me a sewing machine and my first ever sewing class. she makes amazing cakes, crochets beautifully, paints, and excels at any craft she attempts. my sister-in-law was the one who pushed me to actually make my first sign. my 4 sister-in-laws keep me motivated with my crafting because they keep crafting the most lovely things, which keeps my wheels just a'spinnin'. =)

i LOVE my family.

so in searching for the proper name for my creations i wanted to give credit to the women who have taught me and shown me what it looks like to make things by hand. i was looking for words that hinted at things being passed down through the generations, things that run through the family tree. and that was it. rooted.

the second word was a little more random. i count my blessings as i think of the way my brain works. colors, patterns, fonts, materials, textiles. to use all of these things in creating. boon.

rooted. boon.

i am proud to put this name on my work. it gives credit to the generations before me that passed on a legacy of craftmanship. and it points to the Lord, Who is the Giver of all things.

for now it is just the name of my etsy shop and will go on the back of my signs. who knows where it will end up in the future.

rooted. boon.

sink or swim

as i was as-always over analyzing every thought that ran through my head at church on sunday, a picture danced into my brain. this brief picture gave me a glimpse of where i've been for so long. the picture: me. in open water. the middle of the ocean. a gray, dreary day. no sun. no waves. just me. doing everything i can to stay afloat. and looking, as i would assume, like someone about to give up, about to take their last breath, and sink beneath the waves. every bit of my face underwater, all but my lips. my body rhythmically treading, giving every single bit of strength i have to stay afloat. to stay alive. but so close, to letting go. "THAT'S IT!!!!!!" i thought to myself. that's exactly where i am. drowning in the world of excuses and distractions, drowning in myself, when all i need is to be hoisted up into the air - plunged into breath that doesn't require work. "oh, i've never left the water." my thoughts continued. "even if it was just my foot still touching a bit of damp sand on the shore, i've never left the water. but i've been in much better circumstances than almost drowning myself." but then, something in my thoughts shifted. "no, no, no. that's not it." God is the water, the Living Water. being in sync with Him, in harmony with Him, in stride with Him, THAT is the water. living for myself, my wants, my longings, my impatience, my guilt, my greed, my judgements - that is the air. the air that i won't stop breathing. the air that i refuse to quit sucking in. oh, to just sink. to let the currents of His love carry me. to die. die to myself. and only live because He lives in me. only love because He first loved me. to be washed in the water of His saving grace. to float in His mercies. i am not dichotomizing my worlds here. isn't it remarkable? i don't remember a day in my life where i didn't believe Jesus saved me from sin, death, and certain destruction, yet i still battle the same basic, elementary issues as i did the very first time i could mentally asses them. thankful today for a merciful God. and thankful for Spirit-filled preaching, from His Holy Word.

muddle fuddle

this is going to be the everything/random post. ha. as if the rest are something different.

1- i really like having some nights to myself. when ty started working his nightshift job several years back, at first i HATED it. every little noise, even the a/c turning on, would instantly make my brain go to: "SHOULD I GO GET THE GUN!?!?!?!? THIS MAY BE MY ONLY CHANCE AT SAVING US!" then it became normal. THEN i began to love it and i started getting stuff done. stuff i LIKED to get done - crafts got crafted, movies that he wouldn't like got watched, i stayed up super late just because. soon he'll be gone every 3rd night when he gets on shift. i have a feeling my crafts will be getting done, my blog will be more frequently updated then, and my brain will be rejuvenated with more casual reading very soon. I LOVE having my man home. but mama's gotta' have some time to herself too.

2- what is it in our dna that makes our babies the way they are? ALL THREE of them have been identical in many aspects. they all try to hold their head up as soon as they exit my hoohoo. they ALL have insane gas - so much so they need to be moved/bounced non-stop to relieve their upset tummies (aka to be in a decent mood). they all have HATED being babies - no cuddles here. no cradle hold in mama's arms. oh no. definitely no laying down. they all say "HOLD ME UP. ALL THE TIME. I WANT TO SEE AND BE A PART OF EVERYTHING GOING ON AROUND ME. OH. AND BY THE WAY, DON'T STOP MOVING."

3- tallulah is a mama's girl! and that's it! daddy gets brief visitations here and there but mama better be real close by. and she's teething. drooling everywhere. poor girl. it's been a rough week and a half. she's still the most precious thing ever!!

4- 40 DAYS FOR LIFE recently began their spring campaign. constantly thinking of ways we could participate at our nearest abortion clinic as a little family. they are close to the road so no standing with a 4mo old, 2 year old, and 4 year old - not practical. maybe take lunch? maybe make signs for the kids to color at the clinic and then leave them with other volunteers. i think it is so so important that these people who are so close to sacrificing their own child, be face-to-face with a living breathing little person - last chance. and it's equally important that my children learn they need to speak up for those who can't speak for themselves, from as early as they can remember.

5- my story is too long to share on this blog. most could care less to read that much about my personal life anyway. but, i am and have been so lost for the past several years. not LOST lost. just wandering around completely bewildered. like a drunk person in the middle of the forest. or the desert. or the ocean. just drunk. and lost. read this today. i will elaborate on the words that sang to my soul. thank GOD for the living and active WORD.

a clean heart create for me, o god, and a steadfast spirit renew within me...

((i want a clean heart. i need a clean heart. i LONG FOR a clean heart. but i can't do it. he has to create it for me. and a steadfast spirit - good grief - what i wouldn't give to be steadfast. to stop swishing around like ripples in the water. to be steadfast. renew it. give it back.))

give me back the joy of your salvation and a willing spirit sustain in me...

((give me BACK the joy of your salvation... bc it's long gone. peace'd out a looong time ago. and a WILLING spirit. i'm such an effing rebel. what the heck. SUSTAIN IT IN ME. i can't make it happen. only he can.))

o lord, open my lips, and my mouth shall proclaim your praise.

((i literally cannot even open my own mouth to praise him. he has to manually open my lips for me.))

psalm 51:12,14,17

this is literally where i am. no spiritual growth here. no topical discussions. no holiness. simple, basic wandering. longing for him to open my mouth so i can utter a word to him. desperate to be steadfast in his love. screaming for willingness. pleading for the joy of salvation.

and wondering, isn't it CRUCIAL that i have all of this nailed down while raising my children. gah. praying that he scoops them up and claims them before i can destroy them. ((this isn't my way of screaming WOE IS ME, or begging for pity. no. please don't. i know that my children's salvation is totally and completely the work of the lord. this is me wallowing in my sin and realizing just how filthy and dirty and mucky i am. i learn it more and more every stinkin' day.))

and on a lighter note

6- i am starting this little easy work out to try and squeeze my mushy self into a bathing suit this summer withOUT self loathing...


thinking "i'll start slow. no need to kill myself." today i did 10 squats (with no weight) and 15 lunges (with no weight) aaaannnddd almost fell over. my legs felt like spaghetti. i squatted down to pick up tallulah and almost fell on her. ha. way to go mama, way to go.

IT'S A GIRL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

We got our precious girl! And (as if we need any more) she's going to add some PUNCH to the mix! Fo' sho'!



Labor and Delivery
(written November 15th)
Tallulah’s birth was not at all what I expected. Both of my boys were 4-hour labors from the very first twinge of pain to delivery – both of my boys were steadily consistent in contractions and pain. Riott was a very painful, labor-some birth. With Beckham, I barely knew I was in labor until it was time to push – and I didn’t even really push, my body just forced him out. Tallulah was about 7 hours of labor, with lots of concentrated effort. All I can say is my girl must take after her mama – has to do things differently, stubborn as hell, and a rebel to boot.

It’s interesting to note that Beckham was due on October 11 and came 3 days early on October 8. Tallulah had the incredibly awesome due date of 11-11-11 and also came 3 days early, on November 8. Two weeks before Riott’s birthday, a month to-the-day after Beckham’s birthday. Needless to say, fall is a very busy season for us.

The anticipation of our third baby was incredibly high. Though completely unplanned, we were ecstatic for our #3 to join us. Tyler and I both thought very strongly that we were having a girl, but we chose to wait to find out the sex. I was running around literally until the day she was born nesting like crazy – and not just preparing the house for #3’s arrival, repainting the whole house, redecorating the whole house (or as much as hubby would let me), sewing her a blanket, making her (if she was a she) hairbows, a baby doll, swaddling blankets, burp cloths, a wreath for the hospital door, finding a book for friends to sign, etc. It’s been crazy around here for months now. I’m sure Ty will love it now that I have to slow down and level out a bit.

I planned on a 3rd natural labor and delivery. Both of my others went quickly enough and with no complications that, in my mind at least, it wasn’t worth the risk to add medical interventions in the mix. I thought, “I’ve done it before. I can do it again. It hurts like hell but then it’s over, I’m holding a baby, and my recovery is quick.” This time around my anxiety about delivering was super high. My imagination ran out of control with thoughts of the “what if”s. What if something goes wrong? What if I miscarry? What if I have to deliver a still-born baby? What if I do something wrong (don’t take prenatals, am overly active, etc) and something happens to the baby? I was overwhelmed with the very real and very tragic possibilities. Those pregnancy hormones will make you crazy!!

But thankfully everything went great – with no complications at all (except for the few in my brain).


((my delivery position. this is what i looked like in between contractions.))

I labored in many positions and in the tub. My doula-aunt (who was also pregnant) showed Ty a few pressure holds for my hips and pelvis so he was right in the action through all of the most painful contractions. What a man! I ultimately delivered on the bed, on my knees, leaning against the raised portion where you lay your head - so my back was to everyone. Also, she came out still IN the amniotic sac, which is very uncommon. They had to tear it to get her out of it.





My Midwife, Jack, was a dream! He advocated several times with the nurses for me and what I wanted for a delivery. He was incredibly patient and understanding. I could not have asked for more! And when someone fights for you like that, when they are there for you in such a way at one of the most beautiful moments in your life, they become family. Here's to "uncle" Jack!



Here’s the rundown from first contraction to delivery:

-3:20am felt first contractions
-3:30am woke up and decided to shower (since showering is supposed to make you stop or progress depending on if you’re in true labor)
-4:30am texted Tonia and woke up Ty
-5:30am got to hospital and contractions had all but stopped (!!!)
First check – dilated to a 3, 70% effaced (WHAT!?). Told we may go back home (WHAT!?), but to wait it out a couple hours to see how I progress.
While Ty got breakfast, Tonia and I walked a lap and I decided that was enough since it was making my contractions come back hard and fast, and I wanted to enjoy my biscuit. However, that one lap seemed to be enough because I took about two bites and couldn’t eat any more because of my contractions.
-8:00am 2nd check – dilated to a 5, 80% effaced, contractions 3 minutes apart. Told to stay at the hospital.
-9:52am dilated to 7-8, 90% effaced
-10:17am dilated to 9.5 about to start pushing
-10:25am water started breaking
-10:45am water finished breaking, baby crowning and born

I know my labors are nothing, NOTHING in comparison to what some women have to endure. And I’m sure my hubby and doula-aunt both thought I was a big fat whiney-hiney the whole time I was in labor (there are lots of hilarious commentaries written down as my contractions were timed…). But still, this labor took me by surprise in so many ways. After delivering baby Lulah my only thought over and over was “I’m done!” and “Never again!”. But today, a week later my heart and my body think it’s not totally impossible to consider another Miglet (though daddy says we’re done!). Two days after she was born, I wrote out: “Thankful on this Thursday that the good Lord provides a void of remembrance for how tough and hard and painful childbirth truly is... otherwise, I may not have made it to my precious number 3 that's currently sitting in front of me, stealing my heart at an alarming rate.”





Her Name
Many have asked about her name and I just tell them I love the name, which is true but not the whole story (most people don’t really want to hear the whole 3-part explanation)… Tallulah actually was not the name we were set on for a girl in the beginning. With each child our “girl name” has changed. One random day somewhere in the midst of the first and second trimester, I was cleaning the boys’ room (hard to believe, I know). I wasn’t thinking about names. I wasn’t even thinking about the baby. All of a sudden, the name Tallulah popped into my head. I remember while pregnant with Beckham, I had randomly mentioned the name to Tyler and he turned his nose up immediately. I liked the name back then but it didn’t strike me enough to put it on our baby name list. This go-round was totally different. This time, Tallulah was the only name I could think about! I couldn’t get it out of my head. So I looked the meaning of the name up…



Tallulah: is of Native American Indian origin, and the meaning of Tallulah is "leaping water". Related to the Choctaw word for water, "oka.” Maybe it’s not a big deal to some, but Lindsey means “trees near water”, specifically it speaks of the Linden tree that only grows around a water source. And then, Tallulah means “leaping water”. I just fell in love with the comparisons immediately.

And THEN, I thought about the very real possibility that her nicknames might be LuLu or Lulah… growing up I was always called Lindsey-lou (“and tigger too”). So in two ways, naming our girl Tallulah, was naming her after me, her mama. Plus Tallulah starts with a “T” like her daddy, and Lulah or Lu is an “L” like her mama. Love love love.

The name also possibly derives from a Gaelic name meaning "fruitful woman"... which I hope and pray that she is, in more ways than one.

Eve came from my mother’s name Evonne. We took out the “onn” and were left with the “Eve”. And so little Tallulah Eve is named after her mama and her Vivi.



I am so smitten with my girl. She is mine. She is attaching to me very quickly and very differently than the boys did. I look at her and want to bust out crying all the time because she is so beautiful and so lovely, and simply a precious gift. All of my boys are in love with her as well. She is the perfect addition to our little Mig family of five.



Thank you to all of our nearest and dearest – we were covered in love and food and visits and gifts – welcoming our peach into the world! You are all so wonderful and we are beyond grateful to call you all friends and family!