Joseph Jay Ram, born February 1st, 2014 at 4:24am. 6 pounds and 7 ounces of beautiful, WHITE baby. 

I think the first thing I said was "He's perfect!" and then the second thing was "He's so white!". Much of J's first few hours of life are cloudy in my mind, partly due to exhaustion and partly due to medication. He is now 4 months old, and I'm finally feeling peace with his birth story.

Our doctor (whom we love and trust) did not want me to go more than a week past my due date. On Thursday, January 30th we were admitted to the hospital to be induced. I was incredibly nervous, but also excited. I had every intention of an all-natural, unmedicated labor and delivery. My mom did it twice, my sister has now done it three times, I felt sure I would join their ranks promptly.

After a sleepless Thursday night, I was given the "okay" to walk out my labor. Joe and I paced and did countless squats in the horseshoe-shaped hall of the L&D/PP units all day Friday and all night. At about 1am Saturday morning I'd only dilated to a 6. No food or sleep combined with the pain of contractions was starting to wear on me, and I broke down. I asked my mom to come into the room and "assess" me. I knew that she would be honest with me and say "I believe you can make it to the end" or "You should get an epidural". She watched my limbs trembling as I vomited several times (water) and told me "Honey, I think you should get an epidural so you can rest. You're not going to have enough energy to push at the end with how slowly you are progressing."

I think I was just looking for someone to tell me it was okay to "give up" with the all-natural route. Joe didn't count (love you babe!) because he just wanted me to be healthy and happy- he didn't know that I needed to be all-natural to be a real woman. I asked for the epidural, and I could have cried at the relief it brought. Instead of crying, I immediately fell into a deep sleep. I woke up about an hour later because the nurse and my mom were trying to heave my extremely pregnant body into a different position. The baby's heart rate monitor was telling us he was having a hard time. As soon as we moved into a different position and his heart rate went up, I fell asleep again. I just couldn't keep my eyes open! A while later his heart rate dropped again. 

Our doctor gave us a little more time to stabilize before giving me two options: One, I could start Pitocin to help my labor progress. Two, we could have a c-section. I asked if JJ's heart would be able to handle the Pitocin, and our doctor said he couldn't tell me "yes" with certainty. I think he was trying to give me the choice of avoiding a c-section, as we had already discussed my all-natural plan. It was an easy decision to make. I wasn't going to risk my baby's health for the sake of my pride. I opted for a c-section and after signing some consent forms I was wheeled into the operating room.

I'd never needed so much as a single stitch in my life, so the reality that my body was going to be cut open terrified me. My whole body was trembling violently, partly due to anesthesia and partly due to fear. I tried everything to hold still: meditation, prayer, deep breaths, mentally singing songs, focusing on Joe's face, trying to imagine our baby... Nothing could stop me from shaking! I felt completely out-of-control and it made me even more frightened.

Within minutes we heard our baby's watery wail. Joe and I were both crying. He left to be by the baby's side and I was finished up and taken to the recovery room. When they brought JJ to me, I told the nurse I didn't want to hold him because I was still shaking so badly I thought I would drop him. She kindly said she would help me and kept her hands close after laying him in my arms. They administered Demerol which stopped the shaking but made me incredible drowsy. THEN I was worried I'd drop him by falling asleep! The nurse helped us latch and J ate like a champ. He was the most beautiful being I'd ever seen.

A few days later, once I'd come out of the fog of pain medication and somewhat recovered from the physical trauma, I began to feel guilt. I'd taken the easy way out. I'd given up. I'd failed. Yes, I had a healthy, precious newborn in my arms, but I didn't have that gold star that I could offer up as proof that I was a strong, capable woman. I was weak. 

I've since talked to my doctor about my rough labor and delivery. He explained to me that when they opened me up, he and the surgeon saw that I have "an unusually curved sacrum" which made it difficult for me to dilate and for JJ to progress downward. Our doctor believes that if I was able to deliver naturally, it would have been with JJ because he was pretty small. He does not recommend trying for a VBAC.

That was another blow to my ego. Never give natural birth? My loving family gave me so many reassurances that I'd done what was best for our boy. I needed to be thankful that I lived in a time when these procedures were relatively common and safe. I had a healthy baby and that's all that mattered. I heard all these things and still held on to my guilt. I was discussing my feelings with my close friend, Manda, and she asked me why it was so important to me that I have an unmedicated birth. She gently asked if it was my pride that was making me so miserable and disappointed. 

Until that time, I hadn't diagnosed the source of my sadness. I hadn't admitted to myself that I was making JJ's birth story all about me.

Romans 8:28 "And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good..." 

All things, even the events of JJ's birth were for good. I had a birth plan for my child(ren), and it wasn't the same as the Lord's birth plan for me. 

Proverbs 3:5 "Trust in the LORD with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding."

I don't believe it was wrong to hope for a certain way, but to bemoan the experience and the shape of my bones isn't profitable. My God who loves me blessed me with this specific story. I can finally lay aside my guilt and simply be thankful for my doctors, my family and my healthy baby.  

Psalm 63:3 "Because your steadfast love is better than life, my lips will praise you."

Today is November 7th, 2013, which was my due date with our first baby, Emmanuel. I was blessed with the opportunity to talk through my mixed up feelings with a couple of my dear friends today and it helped me feel less guilty about my confusion.

I'm sad and I'm happy. I miss our angel baby very much. It hurts that I never felt him kick or push up on my ribs or roll around. My heart breaks when I think that we could have had our first son in our arms today.

I'm happy because if the Lord hadn't taken Emmanuel, I wouldn't be carrying our precious Joseph Jay right now. When Joe put his face against my belly last night, it wouldn't have been J.J. who spontaneously punched his cheek. I'm happy that I never need to worry about Emmanuel being hurt or lost or sick or sad. He's spending eternity with our Savior, which is what Joe and I want for all the children we may be blessed with.

I know that if my first pregnancy had continued, I wouldn't even be aware of this second miracle, but I love both my boys so much. I'm sad and I'm happy, and I can praise the Lord because I know He is demonstrating His perfect will in our lives.

Quite a bit has changed since my last blog post. We still think of our sweet baby and we are still thankful for the role he played in our lives, even for a short time. Joe successfully completed his first half-marathon and I am so proud of him! Hopefully we can do one together someday.

After losing our surprise baby, we realized that we were more ready to have one than we thought. The idea of having a tiny human around stuck with us, and on May 17th I found out I was pregnant again. This initial experience was very different than our first. There were a lot more tears and more prayer. I struggled with trusting the Lord with our second pregnancy. Until I passed the point that I had miscarried Emmanuel, I didn't feel attachment to the baby. I stopped drinking alcohol, cut back on caffeine and ate healthier, but other than that I didn't behave like I had with my first pregnancy. I didn't daydream or plan or really dwell on the baby very much at all. Until I passed the 3-month mark, I felt like I was just waiting for something bad to happen. My husband encouraged me by reminding me that this baby belonged to the Lord and that He loves us and does everything for our good.

We told our friends and family later in the pregnancy and with less fanfare than the first. Of course everyone was thrilled and we welcomed all the prayers that came our way.

I was sick for most of the first trimester and I slept ALL the time. Joe would get home from work and I was passed out on the couch almost every day. It was slightly reassuring to have these symptoms, but mostly I was praying that they wouldn't last the whole pregnancy. The day I started my second trimester the sickness disappeared and I felt great! Slowly but surely I grew in love for the little life inside me. Hearing the heartbeat for the first time, finding out that he is a BOY and feeling his kicks and punches grow stronger and stronger have changed me for good!

As I type this I am 27 weeks and 5 days along. I can't believe how fast and how slow this pregnancy has gone! I feel like I've been pregnant forever and I can't wait to meet him, but I can't believe it's been 7 months already!

Through God's providence, Joe was offered a job in Fresno and he took it. We were stunned by the opportunity to move back home! I was ecstatic thinking about having our baby with family close. I made sure Joe wasn't just doing it for me and that it was a change he wanted. We miss our Tehachapeople like crazy but we are adjusting to life in our hometown.

God's hand in our circumstances and experiences is obvious when looking back on this past year and a half. He's tested us, blessed us and grown us in love for each other and for Him. We are eager to see what He does in this new chapter (parenthood!).

They say "no news is good news" to which I say "True and false."

After my last post, Joe and I were faithful to training. We did a couple long runs in Fresno and Tehachapi, and it definitely made me appreciate the low elevation and mild winter of Fresno. Exercising was good, we were looking forward to the half with nervousness and excitement.

On March 5th, I took a pregnancy test, and it was positive. Say what!? All it takes is once, like every health teacher warned. After the initial shock of realizing that we would be responsible for another little life wore off, I was ecstatic. I found out while Joe was at work, so I rushed to buy a cute onesie (it said 'Property of Mom and Dad') and a baby book (Guess How Much I Love You?). I wrapped them and gave the gift to Joe when he got home. He was immediately suspicious because of my weird smile and the fact that I never, ever get him gifts "just because". After his glazed expression cleared, he was all smiles. I must say, even though we were happy, we both felt like it was unreal for a few days. 

Gradually we started talking about the baby like he was a real person growing inside me, and I would say things like, "Cookie dough ice cream, please! ....the baby wants it!" For some reason we both felt strongly that it was a boy. Maybe wishful thinking? At this point, only my sister and one of his close friends knew that we were pregnant. I was on the phone with my sister when I took the test and sent her a picture of it, and she was the one to tell me "MOLLY, even though it's faint, that second line means you're pregnant!". I really didn't want to tell our parents the good news over the phone, especially since it was our first baby and his parents' first grandbaby. We made up a lame excuse for going to Fresno, even though we were JUST there the weekend prior. Joe brought home blank onesies and fabric markers and we decorated them to "tell" our families.

His parents were so happy! His dad couldn't contain his excitement. My mom said that she knew I was pregnant the second she opened the door to welcome us in. We went out to lunch with both sets to celebrate. :)

I stopped training because while exercise is good, my doctor preferred that I didn't increase in difficulty and endurance while pregnant. I missed long runs with Joe, but I was proud of him for continuing to work hard.

On March 17th I began to experience some discomfort, which progressed to pain, and that night I miscarried our precious babe. Joe and I were devastated. I think the worst part for me was seeing my husband break down. I didn't realize he was so attached to this little bean-sized alien baby that we couldn't touch or see yet.

At first, when we told people what had happened (who knew we were pregnant) I felt a little foolish for being so sad. We never heard its heartbeat or saw it on an ultrasound. Why were we taking this so hard? It took some very loving people to point out that even though our little one was in the beginning stages of development, it still has a soul. 

I was put on bed rest for one week after the miscarriage, which was a blessing for spiritual and physical healing. We were heartbroken, but thankfully able to see God through it all. Our Bible study put their arms around us in sweet ways, including flowers, cards, dinner and visits. My mom and sister and little niece visited and cleaned my house for me and loved on me. I was able to connect with others who had also experienced miscarriage, including one of my dear friends who miscarried the same weekend. Joe was so tender and thoughtful in taking care of me, and I think this was the first tragedy that we have suffered through together. We are closer for it. We take comfort in knowing that our child will be with Jesus forever.

Like I said earlier, we both felt it was a boy. Joe did some research and suggested we name him. Emmanuel is the name we decided on. God is with us.

As my wise husband said, it would take a little while for my body to remember that it likes running. Thankfully I was able to run 3 miles this morning, though not without difficulty. My end time was right around 33 minutes, so an 11-minute mile average...not bad. I'm thankful I haven't been experiencing shin splints again, although I have a feeling they will come when we start doing our long runs over the weekends. 

Something AWESOME that I've been anticipating finally happened: I got headphones! They are bright orange, of course. (I have orange and gray running shoes and an orange and white iPhone case. I think I'm obsessed.) I had the ear buds that came with my iPod, but they would NOT stay in my ears no matter how viciously I wedged them in. Thanks to Target, I now have headphones guaranteed to stay in. And they work!

Today I listened to Queen while on the treadmill. I love Queen. It definitely distracted me from the monotony of what I was doing. Running on a treadmill is SO BORING. You may ask why I don't run outside. 

Um, that's why. Sleet, snow and wind? Not for this girl. I'll take boredom over frostbite.

Something that I've been feeling guilty about health-wise is the amount of coffee I drink at work. My addiction is iced coffee with vanilla and cream. I'll have at least two grandes during my six-hour shifts, and sometimes three during my eight-hour shifts. I don't drink nearly as much water as I should. I'd like to limit my coffee intake to one per day, and not be so dependent on the caffeine for my energy. I'd also like to get in the habit of drinking a lot more water.

Well, there are my immediate goals! I'll let you know how it goes.

I'm back! Joe and I have been a pair of sickies the past couple of weeks, so the gym has been missing us. Excuses excuses, blah blah blah. We hit the treadmill Monday night, and boy was it hard. Thanksgiving eating combined with no exercise and a sickly constitution equals a HARD run. I only made it to 2.25 miles before I had to start walking. My sweet husband was very encouraging and assured me that it takes time to get back in the swing of things.

We now have a major incentive to run faithfully: we are both officially registered for the SLO half-marathon in April. This is the same one that my daddy and I punched in the face a few months ago. I still remember how impossible the last three miles felt, so I get pretty nervous when I stop to think about it. I think it will be helpful having Joe to train with. Last year I was able to do a handful of long runs with my dad in Fresno, but all the runs/exercise during the week I was on my own. And guess what? This time around it's a family affair. My dad, sister and brother-in-law will be running, and also both my mother-in-law and father-in-law! Watch out SLO, here come the Bogarts/Ramos'/Rams! We got this. 

I've been planning our meals each week and making a grocery list that way, but it's brought to my attention that Joe and I are sadly lacking in the vegetables department. Neither of us are veggie-lovers, so it's hard to keep them in mind. Any good vegetable recipes out there that disguise compliment the vegetable taste?

It's been almost two weeks since my last blog post. We bought a gym membership for me, I have been faithful so far! I'm using my half-marathon training as a fitness guide:

Weeks 1 and 2

Monday: Cross-train (elliptical, weight-lifting, etc.)
Tuesday: Short run ( 2.5 miles)
Wednesday: Rest
Thursday: Short run (2.5 miles)
Friday: Cross-train
Saturday: Long run (4 miles)
Sunday: Rest

So far I've been pretty good at obeying the schedule. I missed a cross-train day here and there, but I've been a stickler about running. Joe's been semi-faithful. He needs a little encouragement after work, but once he's done working out he feels good.

We both made goals. I'm not telling specifics, but I need to lose about fifteen pounds and Joe wants to gain about fifteen pounds. I got on the scale after two weeks of the above schedule and was horrified to see that I had GAINED 2 pounds. Why body, why?? Joe assures me it's muscle that I'm building up, and that muscle weighs more than fat, but still. It was sooo discouraging.

I have to admit, I am starting to see results. I've lost a little in the *ahem* chestal region and I can see a tiny difference in my belly. Or maybe I can just suck it in better because my muscles are getting stronger. Either way, I'll take it!