Baby No. 3 Makes His Appearance

I wrote out Cade's birth story in my journal shortly after his birth, so I'm going to share that here with a few of the gruesome and more graphic details left out of course. This one was definitely a little more graphic! So if you are interested in birth stories (or obsessed with them like I am!) here is how our sweet little third baby joined our family.

May 11th, 2016
Our sweet little babe Cade Andrew was born just a few days ago, Friday May 6th. He was 8 days early, thank goodness, because he was 9 pounds 6 ounces and 21 1/2 inches long. I can't even imagine how big he would have been if I had carried him full-term!
On Thursday I was looking at the weather and Friday was supposed to be cold and rainy and I told Austin that would be my perfect day to have a baby. As though I had willed it to happen, at 12:30 Friday morning I was trying to fall asleep and having bad cramps. Then a huge gush of fluid and I was horrified that I had peed my pants! It took me an hour to accept the fact that my water had broken. I kept cramping and gushing fluid. Finally at about 3 AM I woke up Austin and then called the midwife. She said try to sleep and call if anything really started.

I was so worried because my water had never broken early in labor, it always stayed intact until right before pushing. But I went to bed and slept for a couple of hours. Then all morning I waited and waited for anything to happen. My contractions were totally sporadic and not strong at all. I was cleaning and vacuuming and trying like a crazy woman to get things started. We even went to Cabela's with the kids to walk around (what were we thinking?!) I'd have a couple of really strong contractions and then nothing for an hour. Finally we had Austin's parents come pick up the kids. I had to be in active labor within 24 hours or I'd have to be induced. So we figured we should get the kids taken care of because no matter what we were having a baby! Even if it was all feeling VERY anti-climatic. 

The midwife said that if I wanted to I could take 2 ounces of castor oil. I really didn't want to end up going to the hospital so I mixed some into a smoothie and forced myself to drink it. It was 3:15 and by 3:45 my contractions were steady and 7 minutes apart. Austin had gone to the post office to drop off an eBay package for me because someone wanted something shipped overnight. Which was crazy! I was breathing through contractions while printing a label and packing up a dress. Life is weird.

After about 15 minutes my contractions were twice as strong and every 5 minutes so we packed up and headed out. We got to the birth center at about 5 pm because traffic was so bad. The car ride is always the most stressful! When we were getting out of the car I said, "Hang on, I'm gonna have this contraction out here." But then there was a HUGE boom of thunder and I was like "Nevermind! Let's get inside!" The midwife checked and I was 4 cm and mostly effaced, so we settled in to finally have a baby.

Austin was so sweet and brought in my crockpot with washcloths and oils and all my comfort stuff. He knew how worried I was about having the support I needed and did all the things I had asked for. I tried laboring in the water because that's where I spent my other two labors almost entirely. But the castor oil was making me so sick I couldn't just be still and relax. And laboring with my water broken was horrible. The contractions were so sharp and concentrated in my hips and thighs. I just could not get comfortable. I started to feel like I was nearing transition because I was getting really dazed and exhausted and feeling like I might die if this went on much longer. But we hadn't been there for long at all and I was feeling worried that maybe I was just wussing out too soon.

In the car I had asked Austin when he thought the baby would be born by and he said 7:45. So my whole labor I really believed him for some reason! I kept looking at the clock and thinking, "Just one more hour, just 45 more minutes." So at like 7:10 the midwife said my cervix was still posterior, just like with Mason, and I wasn't fully dilating because of the pressure from baby's head. It was like a horrible flashback to Mason's birth and I kind of started to panic. But I was so determined to get the baby out and have it be over that I told her to just do whatever we needed to do to solve the problem.

I don't even really know how far I was dilated but I could tell that I was starting to go through transition. She had me push as hard as I possibly could while she held my cervix again. The pain was beyond anything I experienced with the first two births. The pain and exhaustion were so excruciating that my mind kind of left, like it tends to do in transition. I was in that outer body place for those last few minutes. I felt drained with the first two. But this time it was like for survival. It was that complete surrender that they always talk about in birth books. I knew so clearly that there was only one way to end the pain and that was to walk straight into it. The next coherent thought I had was realizing that she was having me reach down and catch him. And I remember thinking, "He's here already?!" I looked at the clock and it was 7:46. Somehow dads know these things.

As I held him up to me it was like I fell back into reality.
I was suddenly flooded with that acute awareness of all my senses. To really come to that understanding of what we had just accomplished. To look around and be aware of how loud and messy and crazy and chaotic the last couple of hours had been, but that it all culminated in this perfect moment of total peace and calm. That's what feels like the purpose of birth. To experience something that makes you feel so alive. To feel so human but so spiritual. To embrace feeling weak and tired but incredibly powerful at the same time. All of those seemingly contradictory things that converge in one soul changing event.

And the love. Oh to feel that kind of love. That all consuming and heartbreaking love. Mingled with the relief and joy that the birth was over, that the pregnancy was over. It was almost overwhelming. And Cade was so beautiful with dark hair and a little puckered up mouth. I said, "He's so tiny!" And the midwife said, "No, no. That is not a tiny baby!" I at least felt justified that he was so big and that's what made my pregnancy so difficult!

This birth felt so drastically different from the other two. My midwife told me on the phone earlier in the day, "This baby is just writing a different story for you." It's amazing that I've done it three times now and still feel like I have no idea how to do it or what to expect. 

And how beautiful that it's not something we can plan for. That contradicts everything about my personality and that's why I need the unexpected things like this. No matter how I picture it in my head and try to prepare, it can go completely differently and still be just as wonderful.

And I'd do it every day to have that healthy, lovely baby in my arms.

How We Made the Change

I could go on for days about all that we did to fully adopt the minimalist lifestyle. But the basics were this:

~I went room by room in our house and cutting back our possessions to the barest minimum. Keeping only basic necessities and obvious keepsakes. When this process was complete to my satisfaction, our entire craft room was empty except for two tupperware bins. My kids' closets were clean. Our attic was almost empty. Our garage was almost empty. I couldn't believe how much space we didn't need when we got rid of what we didn't need.

~We donated load after load of our things to a local women's shelter and Goodwill. Then we had a massive garage sale.

~I adopted the concept of a Wardrobe Capsule and cut down what was in my closet by no joke, probably 90%. Can I even begin to tell you how good it feels to give away clothes that you've had since high school? Please. Go try it. Let the nostalgia turn to pragmatism. And free yourself from the bonds of trying to fit into things that will never fit again.

~Once the house was clean and basically empty, we put it on the market. Showings were exponentially easier because our house was basically always clean. The few things we used during the day had an easy place to be put up and cleaning was a breeze. After about 4 months we received the offer that we decided to accept. We closed in October but hadn't found a house yet, so we put our things into storage and moved in with my in laws.

~As we began our search for a new house, Austin and I made our "perfect" list. All the things that we could have in an ideal world. We knew this would be next to impossible to find, but we wanted to know what we both wanted. It included things like at least 3/4 of an acre, 5 bedrooms, no HOA so we could have chickens, a wood burning fireplace, within 20 minutes of Austin's work, etc. It had about 25 items on it.

~Living with my in laws was such a huge blessing and a great opportunity for us and the kids to spent time with them. It was also a way for us to save money and have fewer responsibilities for a while. It was so nice to just not worry about managing so many bills or dealing with the other downsides of home ownership. That mental freedom allowed us to clear our heads and commit even more fully to the minimalist lifestyle.

~In February, 5 months after we sold our home, we closed on our current house. It is everything on our list and more. We actually managed to find a house with every single thing that was important to us. When we moved in it felt so good to be moving in only things that we loved, things that we very intentionally chose to keep. And it has made our house feel like a home.


We have lived here for 4 months now and what prevails the most in our home is a feeling of peace. I feel so calm here and so unburdened. Our home is uncluttered and it makes my mind feel clean and free. I feel this deep satisfaction that has come from freeing myself of material things. I don't resent the housework that needs to be done because it isn't a result of owning too much. I used to clean up the same silly toys or rearrange the same dishes or books or craft supplies what felt like a thousand times a day. Eliminating that from my life has brought clarity, gratitude, intention, calm. 

And that feels like coming home.

In the Beginning....continued

After my mental wrestling match the night before, I woke up a little confused and a lot tired and completely ready to do whatever had to be done.

And for whatever reason my first instinct was to start looking at new houses. And the very first house I pulled up was the most darling, tiny little farmhouse in a city about 20 minutes away from us. With a farmhouse sink and a chicken coop and beautiful rustic wood floors. It was half the size of our current house with twice the land. I felt like my heart might just burst at the sight and thought of that house. Because it looked like a real home.

To preface, we had bought our first home only 2 1/5 years before this. We got an amazing deal on a foreclosure and had a lovely, large, new home in a great neighborhood with a pool and nice neighbors and we had essentially felt very comfortable there. We always said it was our 8-10 year house. We had never even considered the thought of moving sooner than that. Why would we?

So I called my husband and had basically this conversation:

"I think we need to sell the house."

"Umm, what's going on?"

"I just really feel like we're supposed to live somewhere else....like in the country....like on a farm."

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah. I want chickens."

"What? Are you pregnant?"

A valid question of course, but the answer was no. And as we talked and I couldn't even begin to articulate why I was saying the random things I was saying, he lovingly asked if we could talk about it when he was home later that night.

So I spent my day researching what I was feeling. I love the internet. It always makes you feel a little less like a cuckoo bird.

What I found was that all my feelings were pointing me toward one concept: Minimalism.

That word is a verb and a noun and an adjective and can mean something different to everyone. What I took away from it was that it meant living a life with intention. Not just floating around wondering how you ended up in a certain place with certain people and a bunch of things. But making a choice to do everything in my life intentionally.

Here's my favorite definition from theminimalists.com:

"Minimalism is a tool that can assist you in finding freedom. Freedom from fear. Freedom from worry. Freedom from overwhelm. Freedom from guilt. Freedom from depression. Freedom from the trappings of the consumer culture we’ve built our lives around. Real freedom."

This hit me hard because it's not like I really felt trapped or imprisoned, but this idea of true and complete FREEDOM was speaking to my soul.

I think minimalism also means we have to take full responsibility for our lives. If we are living with eyes wide open and making very careful decisions, then we know that things aren't happening to us by mistake or happenstance or because of a lack of involvement in our own destiny. Not all the time, anyway. 

And I wanted that so desperately. I wanted to feel like my life was of my own very careful making. To wake up each day and choose to the best of my capability what I was going to fill it with.


And thus began our journey.

In the Beginning

Some changes in life happen so gradually you hardly realize it until the transformation is complete. Like turning 30 and looking back to when you were 20 and realizing you'd barely recognize that person anymore.
Or like when you put on your favorite jeans and suddenly they're too tight and you can't really blame just one specific cookie or one extra slice of pizza. 
Or the other day when I looked at my almost 5 year old and realized he's basically a grown up all of a sudden.
Most of the time, changes in our life sneak up on us. One day at a time. One small decision at a time. Until we choose to reflect and then suddenly see that somehow things are different. And that can be good different or bad different or just plain different.

The change that I realized had crept up on us a year ago was a not so great kind of different. And while it was gradual, I can pinpoint the exact moment that I finally opened my eyes to take in the full extent of the view I was now accustomed to.

One night in late March of 2015, when my husband was out of town, I lay in bed for hours just tossing and turning. I'm a paranoid maniac when my husband is gone anyway, but I knew this lack of sleep was different. I wasn't just hearing pretend, creepy noises that just had to be murderers. I couldn't stop thinking about everything in our life.

My mind was going a million miles a minute about all the crazy things: money, debt, schooling, futures, retirement, how we were raising our kids, our everyday life routine, etc etc etc and on and on. You know that feeling, right?

And of all the things I was troubling over, it was these three questions that came to my mind:

Are my children happy?
Is my husband happy?
Am I happy?

And as I answered each question in my mind, I had to say no. Not for any real reason. We were content. We were "fine". We were doing really great by a lot of standards

Yet in a moment of total and raw honesty with myself, I answered no. And then of course burst into tears. And then of course talked myself out of feeling that way.

I'm not sure what brought on my moment of transcendence that night, but I can safely say that from that moment forward I have not been the same. I started on a quest to find out why I felt that the very distinct answer was that NO, we were not happy. And even more importantly, what did I need to do to be able to answer YES and really mean it?