Jameson's Birth Story

I sat in church on Sunday, May 11th, Mother's Day, and could not stop the tears from coming down.
These were not happy tears.

Josh didn't even have to ask "Are you ok?" He knew I wasn't, and that there was nothing he could do about it. I was so scared that I couldn't worship; I could only cry.

Let me catch you up...

~

On Thursday, 3 days before, we had a somewhat routine ultrasound scheduled, 3+ weeks before Jameson's due date.  My tummy was measuring about a month behind at this point, and they wanted to check that he was developing properly. If a mother's placenta is not nourishing the baby correctly, the baby's growth slows dramatically towards the end of the pregnancy.  If that indeed was the case, it is often better for the baby to be OUT than IN.  So this ultrasound was scheduled to verify that he was still growing in there and that I was just a small mama having a small bebe.

The ultrasound tech squirted some cold goop on my belly and scanned over the big ol' lump that had been pushing up into my ribs...his butt, more than 3 midwives had previously assured me.

"So, there's his head," explained the ultrasound tech, who was unaware that WE were unaware that that lump pushing into my ribs was actually his head. "You have a breech baby."

Josh and I looked at each other puzzled and slowly the weight of the situation hit us.  I had remembered waking up one morning, around 25 weeks, saying, "The world turned inside of me last night!" I know now that was the day Jameson flipped...and that he had been breech all along and no one had caught it. I had questioned the midwives about that hard little lump up in my ribs - could that really be his butt? - and they calmly reassured me it was.

Well it wasn't.
                         
The ultrasound tech then also explained to us that my amniotic fluid was low, which could be a sign my placenta wasn't functioning properly. She didn't sound overly concerned though. She also showed us his cute button nose, his kissy lips, and his hair waving in the little amniotic fluid that I did have. We left, more in shock than anything else.

3 hours later, I got a more concerned phone call from one of the midwives saying I needed to come in right away. They needed to monitor Jameson's vitals, because my amniotic fluid was so low, that if he was under any stress, they would need to take him out right away.
Luckily, Jameson was as happy as a clam in there. They sent us home, but on alert for any dramatic decrease in Jameson's movement.

When we got home, we got another phone call.  This time saying they would like to try a version (in normal people words, they wanted to try to flip Jameson.) We Youtubed "versions" and while we had been warned they would be painful, the videos on Youtube didn't portray the women in excruciating pain, the flips worked, and the women ended up delivering vaginally - our ultimate goal.  So why not try?

If you're thinking about a version, DO NOT TRY IT. IT IS TOTALLY NOT WORTH IT. Unless of course you like the feeling of someone trying to shove their hand through your abdomen.

That Saturday morning at the hospital, I experienced the worst pain of my life.  Don't be fooled by my smile in the picture to the right. It was taken before the version when I was still living in happy-la-la land that my baby would flip painlessly and we would deliver him naturally on his due date. Later on, someone would tell me the version was worse than their labor pain.  WHY DID YOU NOT TELL ME BEFORE!? Jack Bauer should use the version as an interrogating technique. I would have told him anything he wanted to know, and then some.

And with all that pain, Jameson didn't move an inch.....

They asked me if I wanted to try again.

I said yes.  WHAT THE HECK!?

About halfway through the second attempt, I begged them to stop.
It wasn't going to work anyway.

I lay in the hospital bed, my face red and stained with tears, when the doctor told me we should schedule a C section for Tuesday morning.  My amniotic fluid was measuring 6 cm. The low end of normal is 10 cm; most women have upwards from that.  They do emergency c-sections when your fluid is 5 cm.  I was just too close to that line to be safe for Jameson.

~

So here I am in church on Sunday morning, carrying the weight of the weekend's events, scared to death of what I know is ahead of me.  Did I mention my original birth plan was to have a natural birth, in a tub, no painkillers? I even considered a home birth.  And now I had a major surgery scheduled two days away.

This was not the plan, God.

~

On Monday night before the C section, Josh and I lay in bed staring blankly into the dark, knowing we would be parents within 12 hours. I think the progression of contractions generates some adrenaline that prepares you for becoming parents. But when your first child comes by way of a scheduled C section, the emotions are very different. Don't get me wrong, we were thrilled to be having a baby.  But we had our plans change so drastically, and then had too much time to sit and think about it. It made for a collision of emotions that left us feeling very uneasy.

At 3:30am, our alarms went off. This baby was scheduled to come out, ready or not.

We arrived at the hospital at 5am. They admitted me, they inserted an IV, they checked Jameson's heart rate. I met the anesthesiologist who gave me this nasty little cup of juice that would stop my intestines from working for the next few hours.

Josh prayed over me the Scripture my Mom had repeated to herself during her two C-sections. It was also the verse that a dear friend of ours texted us the night before. It had comforted him and his wife as they watched their little boy be rolled into the operating room for brain surgery.

For I am the Lord your God
who takes hold of your right hand
and says to you, Do not fear;
I will help you. 
Isaiah 41:13

I had a mysterious peace waking up that Tuesday morning. Even though it was the scariest thing of my life, I knew Josh would be beside me, and God was in control.

They rolled me into the operating room at 7:45am.  They let Josh into the room at 8:05 after I was all prepped and ready to go. At 8:15, the doctor held Jameson's cute little face and gangly body up over the blue cloth.

And I melted...

There is nothing comparable to that first look of your first child. Not even your wedding day compares. All of a sudden, nothing and no one matters more to you in the world than this little sweet-faced bundle. They brought Jameson to lay near my head, and he put his hand upon my cheek. Hi Jameson.

Jameson Paul Warner was born Tuesday, May 13th, at 8:15am, 6 lbs 9 oz, 19 inches long at Silverton Hospital. 

He had been growing just fine all along in there, and probably could have even cooked a little longer, but we are so glad we got to meet him when we did. His first week of life was packed full with visitors and Josh and I were in awe of how many people dearly love our son.

I sat in church on Sunday, May 18th, and could not stop the tears from coming down.

These were happy tears.

God had seen me through.

I held my healthy 5 day old baby boy in my arms and I was grateful.  A type of gratefulness you can only experience after God takes you through the valley.

And oh, how sweet it is on the mountaintop.

A Shauna Niequist-Inspired Post

I just closed the pages on Shauna Niequist's new book Bread & Wine, a gathering of snip-its of her life 'around the table.' Her passion for food just leaks out all over the pages. The whole book made me drool!  Not only did her recipes at the end of each chapter sound delicious, Shauna Niequist speaks my "I'll love you by cooking for you" language.

"What makes me feel alive and connected to God's voice and spirit in this world is creating opportunities for the people I love to rest and connect and be fed at my table."

She might as well have been defining Annie Warner. Nailed it.

And for this reason, I'm channeling my inner Shuana Niequist tonight and writing my own chapter.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was a normal day like all the others, just a few months after we had gotten married. I spent the day in front of a computer screen and Josh spent it out on the baseball field. But when I got home around 5pm, I got that urge to do something special for the hubster. I always operate on the thinking that love = food, so I decided to make sesame beef for dinner. I turned on the fireplace, pushed our coffee table a little closer and snuggled two chairs up beside it, lit some candles, added plates and champagne glasses, turned on some Brian McKnight. Josh came home an hour later to his newlywed-wife with dinner-plated and sparkling cider poured... Just one out of a hundred times we've eaten sesame beef. Did I also mention Josh made sesame beef for me for our second Valentine's Day together? It's one of those easy, can-eat-it-every-night meals, but also one of those meals that can be souped-up and made fancy for company or special-occasions.

It goes without saying that sesame beef is one of our favorite go-to meals. Josh will waver between sesame beef and poppyseed chicken as his ultimate favorite, but I personally think sesame beef takes the crown, rules the whole palace, and makes everyone its servant.

It has morphed over the years too. My mom always made it with sesame seeds on top (hence the name), served with buttered potatoes, steamed green beans, and a green salad.  Josh and I have adopted a more Asian style, serving it without the sesame seeds and on a bed of brown rice. We often steam up some veggies to add to it - broccoli, green beans, water chestnuts, peppers.  And the very best thing about sesame beef is that it can be made ahead of time.  Often I buy a package or two of pre-cut stir fry beef and throw it in the marinade as soon as I get home from the grocery store.  Then I pop it right in the freezer! Then, on a weeknight, I take it out of the freezer to defrost, cook up some rice, and brown the meat in the pan. Walah! Tastes like I slaved over it all day.

So, friends, here is the recipe. May you eat it with your hubby around candlelight dinners, on Valentine's Day, and every other day of the week.

Sesame Beef 
2 tablespoons sugar
2 tablespoons soy sauce
2 tablespoons oil
1/4 tsp pepper
2 garlic gloves
3 green onions
1 lb. beef

Dump all the meat and marinade in a frying pan and brown on medium-heat. To plate, throw meat over brown rice, allowing some of the juices to flavor the rice. Add veggies too, if desired!

Notes: When marinading, I throw it all in a ziploc bag. I like to have it marinade at least a half hour if you are in a hurry; all day is better; all week in the freezer works too! I buy the stir-fry cut beef from Winco. And I hold off on the green onions when I know I'm going to be freezing it. They get a little funky in the freezer.  (Oh and the original recipe is from a Betty Crocker cookbook. Thanks, Betty!)

Guess what's for dinner tonight?

With the recent revamping of my blog, this post seemed to fit perfectly as my first of many Throwback Thursday re-posts.  I wrote this December of 2007 as a freshman in college. I can't help but think God must have given a little chuckle, knowing all my future would hold. It is important to note that I did not
know Josh when I first wrote this.

I put a sweatshirt on. I am bundling up for the cool night air I will soon encounter.  One step out the door and my bones are chilled.  But with every step, my body begins to generate heat. I walk down the old, crumbling Aagard steps, painted white on the edge so as not to trip. I decide that tonight is a night of risk, as I mosey into the road. I perform a balancing act on the two yellow lines in the middle of the pavement. No cars come. It's just me and the yellow-lined road. The gravel crunches underneath my feet when I come to what was at the beginning of my trip a far off parking lot. It is now just beneath my toes. I'm almost there. I place my foot on the middle bar and hurl my leg over the pointy edge of the gate. I land with a thud on the cement pad. I have successfully jumped my first chain link fence.  

I breathe in the cold night air. I am now in my sanctuary. The blackened night sky goes on for miles above me. Glimmering stars are painted across the great expanse. Below, green grass stretches right up to the farthest fence, a fence that urges the team to "go hard or go home." A raised dirt mound finds its place in the center, where the focus will remain on one man in tomorrow's game. Four white bases stand out in the darkness of the night. Will you be called safe? I make my way to the dugout.  The discards of sunflower seeds litter the ground.  I sit. The metal bench is like ice to my legs and back, even through clothing snuggled up to my skin. It is said that my first trip out of the house as a newborn was to a baseball game. 
I remember that and smile. 
My life has always called me 
back to the baseball field.

I am an accountant. I am a closet hip-hop dancer. I am a decorator. I'm a gym-goer. I'm a veggie lover, and a pizza lover. I am a Jesus-believer. I am a sister. I am a nail biter. I am even a baseball coach's daughter. But the most important thing that I am is a baseball coach's wife.

I am a warrior wife.

It took me a year and a half of marriage to figure out what that really means. And it all occurred to me during girl talk on the way to church with my kindred-spirit Jennifer. She's the only one who really GETS my crazy love and passion for the game of baseball. She is a warrior wife too, in everything meaning of the word.

She said it so matter-of-factly.  "Baseball is #1. He's gonna tell you, you are number one. But you and I both know, we're not. And that's ok."

A baseball coach eats and breathes baseball. And so must his wife.  I think I had such a hard time with baseball/tax season last year, because I wanted to be number one - and there was just not enough time in the day for that. When I changed my attitude, and let baseball be #1, and supported Josh in all his goals, passions, and aspirations, all of sudden I started to feel like #1 again.  It was that whole love-and-respect thing. He felt respected when I finally understood that he still loved me, even when he was at the field or on the phone with recruits all day. Being a baseball coach means sacrifice, and long hours, and little pay. And the most loving thing I can do for my husband is to get up and go to work every day, be in the stands as much as I can, and be understanding when he has to take the recruiting phone call at 11pm at night.

But it's not all sacrifice. It is moments like this weekend...when I'm gripping the seat in front of me, bases loaded, one out, in the bottom of the 13th inning against the #8 ranked NAIA team in the nation, and we're tied 3-3.   And one of those Corban recruits Josh talked to at 11pm at night smashes the ball to deep right center for the game-winning hit.... it's all worth it. Jennifer and I fist pound and agree, we could spend EVERY DAY at the baseball field.

When Josh is a coach of a D-1 program or an MLB team one day, and someone is willing to pay money to hear our story, I'll tell them, it all started right here.