Elizabeth Wynne {Happy 1st Birthday!}

Elizabeth Wynne.

Your name shouts "God is abundant." You are daily proof of His unceasing love and creativity. We can't believe our "wynne-some" little lady is a year old!

A year ago, at this time, I was waiting for contractions to become more consistent. My heart was so ready to meet this little lady who so surprised us with her coming. Through a roller coaster of fear and physical trials, it was not easy to "grow" you. You forced your mother to her knees before she even saw your face. And God taught me the painful lesson over and over, "My God is enough." Your beautiful birth story was a picture of God's love and faithfulness.

Now, our sweet baby is ending her first year. If I thought time went quickly with the first baby, that's nothing compared to the second. By the time my **fictitious** seventh child finishes his/her first year, I'm going to need Dramamine just to keep from getting dizzy!

Character {at age 1}

{Less than 1 month}

"Betsy-Boo-Boo," as she is affectionately known, is a remarkably happy, contented baby. She loves people, and seldom fusses or whines. That being said, when she's convinced that something is wrong, she reacts as though she is dying. Her reaction to early bedtimes is the most vehement, and her sobs would make any theatre connoisseur proud. But her volatile moods are few and far between (and usually reserved for when Daddy is present).  Her general state of contentedness lets her play with one toy for hours and remain calm when there's nothing to entertain herself with. She sits quietly, loves books, and delights in watching the antics of her brother. This contentment also sometimes transfer to indolence, and wee Bets is not always fond of hard work (like rolling over, sitting up, or crawling). Each physical milestone has been a battle because of her proclivity for lying still. (No, don't worry, there's not anything actually wrong. She just loves being still!)

{3 months}

Bets is a quick study when it comes to obedience. She learned what the word "no" meant with less than five repetitions! She's very quick to respond to verbal correction and doesn't require a lot of repetitions to learn what is expected of her. She is very docile and obedient (although more creative in trouble-making than her brother was!), and her parents are incredibly thankful for her tender heart and her desire to make Mommy and Daddy happy.

And she does make us very happy. Laughter is very common when Bets is present. She is already a dynamic "story-teller" with crazy facial expressions and flailing arm movements. She will react to different sounds and sights with over-done drama. She will watch other people's faces and attempt to mimic their facial expressions. Our darling comedian already uses her flexible face and big blue eyes with great effectiveness.

Milestones {at age 1}

{6 months}

As mentioned above, physical prowess is probably not in our daughter's future (although we would be delighted for her to surprise us!). Bets does a "sea-turtle" crawl on her belly and can cover a lot of ground rather quickly. This morning, just in time for her birthday blog, she propped herself up on her knees and rocked back and forth. She's also gotten fairly good at "standing" when supported by Mommy or Daddy. Can't wait for the little sea turtle to turn into an official crawler. Mommy is ready to kid-proof the house again!

While perhaps not fond of physical endeavors, Bets is incredibly verbal. She does different voices, sings, and "talks" all day. She growls, blows bubbles, and makes silly noises with her tongue. Bets said her first word at 10 1/2 months of age (it was "uh-oh!" produced with huge eyes and a big round mouth) and has since added "no," "Dadda," "hi," and "I love you." (Very social words from our very social Chicken Little).

Favorites {at age 1}

{6 1/2 months}

Because of her easy-going nature, Bets doesn't seem to have a large amount of strong opinions. Our easy-going girly is really okay with letting her brother dictate his favorites, and then going along with him.

She loves her new "Cinderella" Little People toy, and gravitates towards all Little People in general. (She loves to carry them around as she turtle-crawls from one room to the next). Bets loves books and enjoys joining her brother in anything that he is playing with.

{11 months}

Food is also an area of general compliance. Baby Girl will eat anything. She loves penne pasta and also enjoys cottage cheese, yogurt and fruit. Leafy-green veggies are still not her favorite, but she will try them without too much protesting. What Bets really loves about eating is feeding herself. From day 1 of "grown-up" food, she has loved stuffing her own mouth full. It's one of the few areas in which she is incredibly stubborn: for Bets everything tastes better if she can do it herself.

Bets is also a cuddler. She initiates cuddle times. She loves hugs. And she's always happiest perched in someone's arms. If she ever crumples down onto your shoulder, that's a "Bets hug" and it means she likes you. Please don't be too excited, though. She likes pretty much everyone...

Beautiful girlie, your Daddy and Mommy pray that you will daily become more aware of your Savior and your need for Him. We delight in seeing your gentle, teachable spirit and pray that this, coupled with your joy and thirst for drama, will lead you to the only God who can give you the dramatic life, filled with joy, that we know our little chicken would love. We love you, darling.

You make known to me the path of life;
in your presence is fullness of joy;
at your right hand are pleasures forevermore.
{"Bets' Psalm": Psalm 16}

Happy Birthday, Bets! We love your beautiful sunshine!

Elizabeth Wynne {Newborn Photo Gallery}

When each Blake baby was born, my parents selected a psalm. We children referred to these psalms through the years as "our psalms." I have mine (Psalm 103) memorized, not so much from personal discipline, but rather from constant turning to this passage during the past 25ish years.

When Scott and I became parents, we continued this tradition with Grant. I chose Psalm 145. When Bets announced that she was coming, Scott chose Psalm 16.

As I walk you through these pictures of our adorable new package, I've coupled the pictures with a verse from "Bets' psalm." These verses have been a very present help during pregnancy sickness and late night feedings. I pray they may be "Bettina's" life cry.


{As a side note... I love the varied facial expressions of my baby girl. She was not designed to do the classic "sleeping newborn" poses. She has loved performing almost from birth... and her faces provide almost constant amusement to her parents. Hope you enjoy as well!}

Preserve me, O God, for in you I take refuge.

I say to the Lord, “You are my Lord;
    I have no good apart from you.”

As for the saints in the land, they are the excellent ones,
    in whom is all my delight.

The sorrows of those who run after another god shall multiply;
    their drink offerings of blood I will not pour out
    or take their names on my lips.

{Her face of terror just happened to be paired with this verse... hilarious!}

The Lord is my chosen portion and my cup;
    you hold my lot.

The lines have fallen for me in pleasant places;
    indeed, I have a beautiful inheritance.

I bless the Lord who gives me counsel;
    in the night also my heart instructs me.

I have set the Lord always before me;
    because he is at my right hand, I shall not be shaken.

Therefore my heart is glad, and my whole being rejoices;
    my flesh also dwells secure.

For you will not abandon my soul to Sheol,
    or let your holy one see corruption.

You make known to me the path of life;

in your presence there is fullness of joy;

in your presence there is fullness of joy;

Bets: our tiny package of joyful drama.

A Family of Four {The First Month}

Well, our house is now "empty."

After five wonderful weeks of Grandma, Grandpa, Oma, Opa, aunties and uncles... we are all alone. Just the four of us.

The past month has been a blur of learning and sleeplessness. It's been much easier than when we did the same thing with the Grantopatomus. I want to believe that the "easiness" has come as a result of increased spiritual maturity on my part. That's what I want to believe. I did walk into this period of sleeplessness better prepared--I had verses to meditate on, a Bible reading plan, and a commitment to mental and spiritual discipline.

But in the end, it was the grace of God, not all my striving... He knew I needed spiritual rest. And He graciously provided it when I sought it.

The Lord is my provider.

That's what I've learned this month.

I can do everything "right." And it doesn't matter. God calls the shots. He provides and withholds as He sees fit.

I learned this in His willingness to provide spiritual rest. And I learned this in His allowing physical difficulties for my little baby girl. Wee Bets is still not at her birth weight. I did everything "right." And God, who is the ultimate provider, decided that my baby would stay small, that breastfeeding would be a massive challenge, and that feedings every hour (even through the night!) wouldn't be enough to boost her weight.

Now, armed with internal peace and a small syringe/medical tubing to feed my baby, I think we're finally on the upward trajectory. We'll find out on Thursday at our doctor's appointment!

(One of these days, I will have a fat infant... But so far, my children seem determined to test my sanctification by being incredibly small and difficult to feed.)

Because stringing words together is still a challenge, I've decided to finish off a summary of this past month with pictures. I've countless other thoughts tumbling around in my head, but I'll wait until they can be more coherently produced.

Meeting Oma at the hospital!

Tia Julie and her newest niece... 

"Umm... what is this?" 

Our precious "Bettina"

Helping Daddy with a project. A 124 year-old house means he'll get lots of opportunities to learn!

Playing in the toolbox Daddy made when he was little.

Little "Chicka-Bee" meeting Opa

Of course, a visit from Uncle Teej guaranteed that Grantlet wouldn't be neglected.

This was not staged. They both clearly enjoy napping.

Fighting for his title of "the cool uncle."

Imbibing the Grantopatomus with a love of hats.

Wee Bets and "cool Uncle Teej."

Whirling across the floor in a diaper box... Opa is so COOL!

Like we said... Opa is so cool. Mad grandparenting skills.

Meeting Grandma Marcia! (Baby is our own Little Miss Bug-Eyes!)

Meeting Grandpa Keith!

Exploring the most amazing bubble machine of all time.

Loving our Moby wrap... Baby heaven, Mommy multi-tasking.

Cuddles with Daddy-o.

Milk-drunk baby... Our daughter is quite the ham.

Learning to use a fork! (Although, we prefer to use it as a baton, as opposed to an eating utensil.)

In case anyone was worried... The Grantopatomus didn't suffer from a lack of attention.

Daddy/daughter nap time.

Stay tuned for our next post: Newborn pics of "Bettina," "Wee Bets," "Chicka-Bee," "Betsy-Boo-Boo."

It's a miracle my children ever learn their given names...

Elizabeth Wynne: God's Abundance

This is the story of how we met Elizabeth Wynne, face-to-face, after nine long months.

Every child has a different story. Regardless of the way in which God brings babies into families, each moment, each breath, each tiny soul is a picture of God's ceaseless grace to mankind. God doesn't have to give new life. But He does.

My mother booked her plane ticket in late December. She was coming on January 28th and staying till February 18th.

My due date (as of my last ultrasound) was February 6th. (Although both Scott and I were firmly convinced that this baby's actual due date was January 25th.)

I was staunchly determined that Bets was going to arrive on January 29th, one day after my mom, so that I could have 3 long weeks of help from my mother. I had no idea what obstacles I would face while parenting two babies, but I was determined to have my mama there to walk me through the first tricky weeks.

Right on schedule, at 6 a.m. on January 29th, I began to have contractions. I was psyched. I had just had an amazingly restful night, and I was ready to meet the little person inside of me.

Throughout the rest of the day my contractions continued, but the time between them varied from 4 minutes to 15 minutes. I had a midwife who (in her own words) told me, "I'm a one-woman show. Let's not spend hours hanging out at the hospital." And I was totally in favor of that. My plan was:

1) arrive at the hospital
2) pop out a baby as quickly as possible,
3) sleep.

Further "birth planning" I did not do. Perhaps that was foolish, perhaps I use up all my planning mojo on a daily basis (I do love a good planning session!), perhaps I was just ignorant, but I firmly believed that the baby would come how she wanted when she was ready. Stories from my friends had taught me how often birth plans get thrown out the window. So, I didn't even bother.

By five that evening, I was exhausted... and that's when the contractions really took off. By 8:30 p.m. I was admitted to the hospital at 5 centimeters dilated.

In my ignorance, I thought I was tired then.

Over the next 2 hours, my contractions intensified. And I was super-duper mad at Eve for eating that fruit in the garden of Eden. I'm sure every woman has coping tactics for labor. Mine consisted of cutting off my husband's circulation to his hands, neck (yes, neck), and arms. Scott was wonderful. He didn't say corny, encouraging nothings. He didn't pretend to know what I was going through. He merely let me order him into a variety of positions that let me lean on him for support. Fortunately, the nurse and midwife stayed out of the room for the majority of this time. For whatever reason, I hated it when others were in the room. Talk to me, and I wanted to punch you. I wanted to do this alone. Only Scott was comforting.

By 10:40, there was no break between contractions and I was in horrible pain. I was no strenger to debilitating pain, and had dealt with it (with a morphine drip), multiple times in the hospital. This was a completely different kind of pain. Not worse. Just different. Think menstrual cramps that make you want to commit suicide. Many of my contractions were in my back. It was excruciating.

And I was done.

I had been trying to have a natural child-birth. My reasoning was two-fold:

First, I did not want to pay for an anesthesiologist. My pregnancy was a "pre-existing condition" when we switched insurances, so none of my hospital expenses were covered. The church had graciously given us a very generous gift to cover labor and delivery, but my recent experience with hospital billing departments (compliments of Grant's adoption and my ulcerative colitis) had taught me that the crazy prices of medical care are a constantly moving target. I didn't think an anesthesiologist's addition to a bill would keep us within budget.

Second, I wanted to see if I could do this. Women have done this for centuries. From Eve's induction into pain-drenched motherhood, to Mary, birthing a Savior, alone in Bethlehem with Joseph--alone without her mama--women have dealt with childbirth. When the west was being settled, I'm pretty sure there weren't competent doctors with happy drugs and a big needle. I have this weirdly stubborn streak (which never exhibits itself at good times, usually just when I'm sinning or being stupid), and my stubborn streak wanted to prove I could do this. (Like I said, my stubborn streak makes me stupid.)

But at 10:40, while I was groaning, "No, honey, I'll be fine please... Oh, this hurts!" Scott had had enough of my pain (and frankly, so had I), and he left to track down the midwife and an anesthesiologist. I did not try to stop him. I was done proving to the long-gone women of the Wild West that I could do this. I wanted to not feel anything south of my neck.

My midwife, Ronni, returned, and (after telling me that I was dilated 9 centimeters), gave me a calm, matter-of-fact pep talk. She basically convinced me that an epidural wouldn't really help much at this stage in the game. Ronni was God's provision for this labor and delivery. I love her. Even though any future pregnancies will be covered by insurance, I'm not going to an OB. I am going back to Ronni. Her coaching was clear, her directions concise, her knowledge amazing. Her business-like approach to the next stage of labor, coupled with a brief break in contractions convinced me that I didn't need an epidural. I could do this.

And I did.

Tiny, but so loud! Even the nurses commented on her lungs.
Scott said she's the next Sandy Patti.

At 11:27, I started pushing. And at 11:46, Elizabeth Wynne Allison was born.

God gave me a wonderful blessing after months of miserable pregnancy: He gave me a smooth, fast, and (comparatively!) painless delivery. 3 hours of real labor. 19 minutes of pushing. And a healthy baby that made the months of misery and the hours of pain fade like fuzzy nightmares in the morning. Within 24 hours of labor, I felt better than I had felt in months. Such an unexpected blessing!

Scott caught Bets and cut the cord. I cuddled my baby, sticky, slimy, squalling. She was so tiny! Six pounds, ten ounces, 18.5 inches long. She had a head full of dark curls, my massive chunky fingers, Scott's hairline, huge blue eyes, and gorgeously deep nail-beds which she will love when she hits high school.

She was a complete and total surprise. I spent 9 months convinced that I was probably just growing a massive tumor with its own heartbeat. When I tried to picture my daughter, I never imagined such big eyes and dark hair. I never thought she would be so petite. Honestly, even though I tried, it was hard to imagine a human at all...

Poor Chicka-Bee... Adjusting
to life is hard!

"Elizabeth" means "My God is abundance." As I held her, my body shaking with fatigue, my mind washed with joy and adrenaline, I was in awe at God's goodness. God did not have to give me this baby girl. God did not have to add to our family. He had already done massively great things by giving us Grant, and now He has given us "Bets." He grew them both. He planned them both. He orchestrated their entrance into the world and into our family. One He used paperwork and a selfless birth mom, the other He used my DNA and months of sickness. But He planned them both for our family. They are not our babies. They are a trust. A gift. They belong to God. And He is letting me be their mom!

So skeptical! And so precious.

Every baby has their own story.

And the underpinnings of each baby story, regardless of differences of conception, development, and birth, belong to a God whose love and grace cause Him to give new life.


Hallelujah, my God is abundance.