Our journey into the world of real food began with the birth of our firstborn son.
Before I met my husband and got married I had every minute of my life scheduled. I was a full time special education teacher. After I left the classroom I went straight to my second job of tutoring. I would stop at Jack in the Box on my way home for my nightly dinner tacos, work on some lesson plans and crash into bed. On the weekends I was actively involved at church and tried to squeeze all my social activities into every spare second that Saturday would lend me. That was my life and I liked it. I hated having spare time with nothing to do. I lived on fast food, boxed food, and Starbucks.
Then I got married and moved to Oregon to be with my husband while he finished his seminary degree. During the first year of our marriage we got pregnant. We were over the top elated and had told everyone, only to lose that baby in a miscarriage several weeks later. We were devastated. Later that year my husband graduated seminary and found a youth pastor job in Arizona. We packed up all our belongings and headed to the desert. For over a year we tried to get pregnant again. We did everything every Google search and fertility book said to do. Finally after over a year, we became pregnant again, only to lose that baby at nearly 12 weeks pregnant. We wanted a baby so desperately. People kept telling me it would happen in God’s timing, but I always had that fear that maybe it wouldn’t. Maybe children were not part of God’s plan for our lives.
6 months after our second miscarriage we got another positive pregnancy test. We stared at those two pink lines and refused to get excited. At our first ultrasound I remember nearly crying before it even began. The OB must have seen our anxiety and found our little baby’s heartbeat with lightning speed. The sound of that beating heart is one of the defining moments of our life that we will never forget.
October 7, 2010 our firstborn son entered the world. Well, he was forcibly removed from my womb into this world. The OB, for one reason or another, thought it would be a good idea to induce me on my due date. People warned me not to do it, but we were so ready to meet our little baby that their input barely resonated with us. I had taken all the birthing classes and read all the information, but I didn’t care. I wanted to meet this boy who we had been praying for for so many years.
After they broke my water and assured me it would not increase my risk of cesarean section my labor stalled. Two failed epidurals and many, many hours later they determined that his head was stuck in the birth canal. They wheeled me into the operating room and tried to give me a spinal tap. It took me awhile to convince them that I was still not numb, but I think the hyperventilating and twitching pared with slurring “I FEEL that!” finally made them believers. They were asking me what year it was and who was the president and then I woke up in the recovery room. They wheeled in my baby boy, two hours old.
This attractive picture is me seeing my son for the very first time. For the record, I thought I was smiling. I was just so confused. I didn’t know what had happened. Not the ideal first picture any mom would dream about having with their newborn, but there it is.
I missed the first cry, the first breath of life, the first snuggle. I was so drugged up from the two epidurals, the spinal tap, the four rounds of group B strep antibiotics, and the general anesthesia, that I could barely keep my eyes open.
Once we got home from the hospital I became sick with a terrible respiratory infection and was unable to eat or drink anything without it going straight through me (sorry for the TMI). I repeatedly went to the dr and was on all kinds of medicines. They wanted me to quit breastfeeding so I could take stronger meds, but that was not an option. I was determined to keep breastfeeding. Finally I looked my dr. in the face and said “If I stop taking all these medicines right now, how long will it take for me to get better on my own.” “Months” he replied. “And I really don’t recommend that.” I walked out that office and threw the new prescriptions in the trash. I was done with conventional medicine.
Stay tuned for part 2