#6 Give Muay Thai a Try

A few nights ago I looked up some different gyms in the area, picked one with a good trial option, and signed up for my first Muay Thai lesson. #6 on my 40 before 40 list. 

I've never done any kind of martial arts or boxing. Never worked with a personal trainer. Never been coached in any way one-on-one, haven't been coached at all since I was about 11 years old. I've also never been especially coordinated or even all too aware of how my body moves and should work together (things not one, but two physical therapists have told me. Apparently I don't even breathe correctly, but I digress). 

Despite my lack of knowledge, I felt pretty confident going in. I have a lot of rage and the thought of hitting something seemed nice. For some reason I really thought this might be something I am good at. 

I got in, met my trainer. He seemed wary at the sight of me, which is fair. I did a few laps and then he wanted to know if I was right or left handed. And that's where the first problem began. I was transported back to my T-ball days and the utter confusion I felt over which arm is my dominant arm. In softball I just switched year after year....I'm sure no one will be surprised to learn that I didn't really excel at the sport. So when the trainer asked me, I hesitated. Obviously as I am a 38 year old woman, that was confusing to him. After I tried to explain that I didn't really know, we spent the first few minutes just trying to ascertain my dominant side.  Then we began. 

I provided my trainer with a one hour comedic special and I am confident he has never laughed more with a client. Sometimes I would move and we would just look at each other and laugh. Sometimes I didn't know my right from my left. Sometimes he would show me a stance and then I would forget the stance and then I would try to do the stance, and he would just bend over in laughter. Sometimes with all my might I would punch and he would just look at my face and burst out laughing. About half way through he seemed to switch to the coaching method he uses when children come in, which involved lots of pretending to be hurt by my punches. As time went on, I wanted to punch him as hard as I could, but that just seemed to make it all the funnier. 

Anyways, I did it. I did something new that intimidates me. I showed up in a space that I don't really feel like I belong. I do believe that I disrupted that space today with the constant laughter, but oh well. Laughing is fun too. I paid for three sessions so I gotta swallow my pride and go back two more times. Who knows, maybe I'll end up liking it enough to keep going. 

A prayer for my son

Mama's Prayer

God,

Thank you for this baby boy-for the timing and beauty of his arrival. We acknowledge that you created him and know him- we rest in your power as his Maker and your love as his Father. We praise your mighty works and take comfort in knowing before his days on earth began, every moment of his life was laid out and known to you.

Thank you for entrusting this gift to us. Thank you for being such a good Father, whom we can strive to learn from and love like.

We pray that we grow into this huge task of raising not one, but two children. We pray for Jubes and Pax- for the sweetest friendship, a deep love, and that they would be thick as thieves from now until forever. Give us wisdom and patience and strength as we love them and teach them and model to them in these years. May our home be filled with laughter.

We pray Paxton comes to fully know your love and the power of your peace. We pray he is drawn to your redemption ways and learns the joy of surrendering to you at an early age. May he truly delight in your presence, and earnestly seek you.

May Pax be an instrument of your peace, actively working to bring about the Shalom, the flourishing and wholeness, of all. May he love as you love. May he point the way to you, as a light in the darkness, "showing the way one foot at a time down the path of peace" (Luke 1:79). May he be like his Uncle, a man who chooses joy and delights in the wonder of life, an inextinguishable, tenacious light.

Paxton's Birthday Poem

“To Paxton Ayaanle”

This time of year the whole world stops
To hope and pray for peace on earth,
And strains of carols raise our eyes
To gaze towards that momentous birth.

And yet the Angels that once sung
Of man’s goodwill and of new life
Seem lost, like shadows in the snow
Carved out by endless war and strife.

But as we view your shining face
Our hope awakes anew again
Your humble birth seems holy like
The one who graced that blessed inn.

He ushers in a kingdom aimed
Towards Pax in Terra, but it starts
When we embrace His deep Shalom
And let His peace come heal our hearts.

So as you navigate your path
And know the depth of loss within,
May you find wholeness in His arms
That softens hardened hearts, and then
 
We pray that you would find the strength
To love when men deserve it not,
To hope when justice fails, and to
Wage peace till no more wars are fought.

Paxton's Birth Story

If you’re like me, you love a good birth story, heck even a boring birth story. There’s a million and one
ways it can all unfold and it is just pure magic whatever way it does. If you’re also like me, you
probably weren’t really into birth stories until you were pregnant/had children and that’s okay too. Or
maybe this isn’t your thing in general. Wherever you’re at with that, you’re also at my blog. =) The day
my two children were born feel like the longest day and shortest day- a million intense and magical
and serious and crazy moments packed into a short and long amount of time. Mark and I are still
remembering little moments that we never had a chance to process during all that was, and for me it’s
all the littlest moments that I want to remember. So, a detailed birth story:

We started our day much like we start every day. At 6:30 Mark was up and getting ready for work,
and I was still laying in bed (trying to) sleep. Jubes woke up and climbed into bed with me for some
morning snuggles. Mark was in the shower when I had some sudden, intense pain. I called out to him
that I was hurting and wasn’t sure what was up. After a minute or two that pain subsided and then
normal contractions started.. By 10am I was having regular contractions. When I was pregnant with
Jubes I planned to stay home as long as I thought possible, but we knew with this baby things would
play out differently for several reasons: my first birth was fairly fast, our hospital can take anywhere
from 20 minutes to 1.5 hours to get to depending on traffic, and our childcare plan was all up in the
air depending on time of day we needed to depart. But, there’s just something so nice about being
in labor at home, am I right? Jubes settled in for some morning cartoons and way too many snacks,
almost oblivious to me. She did ask at one point if I was frustrated, to which I responded, no, but
when babies come it’s hard work for mamas. ;) I scurried around the house finishing laundry and
dishes and other tasks that I didn’t want to come home to with a new baby.  Mark was teaching but
had a planning period around 10:30. When he got home and discovered via our family line group that
my contractions were timing between 4 and 6 minutes apart, he went into high alert mode and started
moving us towards the door. I kind of have a love/hate relationship with anxious Mark that shows up
during births and newborn baby life. But- after finalizing a few things, showering, calling our wonderful
friends to settle Jubi’s care, and a slow waddle out to the taxi stand- we were on our way. At that
point my contractions had slowed down and were closer to 10 minutes apart, which I attribute to my
husband’s anxiousness. =)

We got to the hospital around 12:30 but decided to hang out awhile before checking in. Our care
package is timed, so we wanted to be smart about that. But also, I didn’t want to be discouraged
by any bad news that I wasn’t dilated or baby wouldn’t come for awhile (as I had falsely been with
Jubilee). We got some yummy snacks and settled into some comfy chairs in a lobby and had some
really lovely conversation for a few hours. Every time contractions rolled around I would slowly lift
myself from my seat and walk back and forth through the pain. I got lots of smiles from passersby,
some occasional looks from an old man sitting across the room, and finally decided I was done with
the lobby when a women came and sat right next to me and openly stared at me during my
contractions. So, off to the maternity ward we went.

We checked in around 2:30. My doctor was in and asked to check for dilation after chatting with me.
She was shocked that I was dilated to a 5, baby had turned a bit and was in a better position
(he’d been posterior the last half of my pregnancy or so), and she was sure I would have the baby
before the day was over.

By 3:30 we were in the labor and delivery room. We pretty much chose this hospital and remained
with the same doctor we used for Jubes because the natural birthing room at Samitivej is awesome
and decked out with lots of tools to help you progress through your labor and manage the pain. I don’t
know if everyone has this experience with the staff there, but we love that they kind of let us run the
show. Once we figured out how to dim the lights and plug in our playlist and fill the tub- they made
themselves scarce unless we asked for them to come. One of my goals during this labor was to try to
remain active and upright for as long as possible. It was so interesting to experiment with my
movement and positioning- I could tell my labor slowed down when I laid or sat- if you are an
expecting mom and got it in you- stand! I took a short dip in the tub (because my labor is always in
my back and that warm water is the bessst) but got out as soon as I started to get a bit drowsy, as
with Jubilee I felt the tub completely zapped me of my energy. After spending more time pacing and
bracing against the ladder I was ready to rest my feet- which I had pretty much been on since 7 am. I
spent some time resting and listening to music in bed. During my labor with Jubilee I had not wanted
Mark to touch me or massage me or honestly even talk to me- I went inward to deal with the pain and
any distraction was unwanted. But this time (at the unsolicited encouragement from my doctor) Mark
helped with counterpressure on my back.

Me during labor is something like this:

Early labor: Hey babe, can you get me some water from over there. Oh, this song, love that it’s on this playlist.
Remember that time…Do you mind rubbing my back?

Mid labor: Mark- water- now. Back rub.

Transition: WATER. BACK.

Height of labor: Angry grunts that Mark must decipher or more angry and exasperated grunts will follow.

I have no idea if I spent ten minutes or two hours laying there, but during that time I was already
feeling done and done. I remembered my labor with Jubes and that my progression from 8 to 10
had felt incredibly long and hard so I waited as long as I could before asking to be checked to push.
I was very sad to hear I was only 7 cm dilated. Around this time I decided that something didn’t feel
quite right- my contractions seemed less strong and I could tell my doctor was concerned about them
and my level of fatigue. When the staff left again I told Mark I was worried that if something didn’t
happen differently soon, we would be headed towards some sort of interventions.. And as much as I
wanted to be done, like immediately (I had actually already told Mark I was ready for someone to
just “cut this baby out”), I’m also really afraid of all medical things  (like IVs and shots and major
surgeries like a cesarean). So, I hoisted my humongous self up and found my best spot (clutching
the ladder and squatting into each contraction) and within ten minutes I was ready to push. In fact,
I felt so sure baby was so close I moved to the pushing chair and instructed Mark to get ready to
catch the baby. Haha! I wasn’t quite there yet but when the doctor arrived she gave me the greenlight
and I pushed from the chair several times (and again, as before, I couldn’t have done it without
Mark’s coaching- not sure why breathing and pushing and counting aren’t all possible for me at the
same time, but they absolutely aren’t). I then moved back to the bed as my doctor felt she could
better guide the baby out and ensure a smaller wound for me from that position.

My Jubilee girl came out in just a few pushes and they put her right on my tummy. I’d remembered reading about the “breast crawl” and I watched in awe as Jubes did just that. It was beautiful and miraculous and perfect in every way and I love to think of those first few moments and they always bring me the happiest of tears.

Paxton came more slowly, and when they finally put him on my chest it was with a quick “he isn’t
breathing” and “the cord was around his neck” before they quickly rushed him out of the delivery
room, with Mark following behind. Thinking about this moment makes me cry different kinds of tears.

To say I wasn’t my best self in those moments is, well, to say the least. There may have been a time
that I would have felt a bit more untouchable from the tragedies of the world, but it has passed. And I
remember praying or saying or thinking that this will not be our story. I asked my doctor what would
happen and I honestly don’t even remember if she responded to me or not (though surely she must
have). But not long after we heard his cries. We named our son Paxton Ayaanle, and one day soon
we’ll share more about why. But we thought it fitting that he lived up to his name so very quickly, as
Ayaanle means lucky one.

Our hours following Paxton’s birth were difficult. I had a harder delivery and lost a lot of blood. I was
dizzy and faint, could barely even sit up by myself. Paxton’s oxygen levels kept dipping so after his
initial breaths and checks they brought him back so I could see him, but when his levels dipped again
they rushed him to the NICU. He was born at 7:50 pm and I didn’t get to hold him until 11:00 that night.
I know that compared to many mom’s stories, that’s nothing, but it was a lonely 3 hours for me.

We remain incredibly thankful for the care we received at our hospital, despite some of the cultural
differences and occasional communication struggles that made some moments frustrating. I’m feeling
so much better- so much better these last two weeks, and overall sooo much better than the last
several months of my pregnancy. And praise God, Paxton Ayaanle is just fine and will suffer no long
term health consequences despite his rocky beginning.

We prayed that Paxton would be bigger than his sister was (but not too big!) and a good eater (one
day maybe I’ll write about what getting Jubilee to eat was like..) and he is both!

Little man was born on December 10th at 7:50 pm weighing 7.5 pounds and 19.5 inches long.

I have been delighted to find that he is so different than Jubilee was- his sounds and movements and
needs. We can’t wait to learn him better. I’ve also been delighted to find that I am not nearly as
anxious as I was with my first…which is probably normal but super helpful. Jubilee has handled things
incredibly well. The hardest part is figuring out how to juggle them both, love them both well, and still
remain a bit sane and get a few winks of sleep. ;)

A Christmas Baby

I haven’t always spent my Christmas season in the tropics, with the air con cranked high,
a hodge podge of Christmas decor and traditions a part of my holiday celebrations.
I’ll always think there’s a little something extra special about spending Christmas in a place that
actually has a winter, there’s just a bit more romance, magic, and “rightness” to it all, in my opinion.
I remember the year I fell in love with Mark, right during my most magical first Christmas in Denver.
The snow illuminates all the city lights and it’s just… breathtaking. I loved Christmas time in Denver.

I don’t have many memories of Mark and I planning for or chatting about children.
(Back in our first years of marriage I was desperate to get overseas, and probably every
“serious” conversation we had was about my burning passions and our 5 year goal of how we’d
end up where...so almost nothing has changed except that I’m able to have this conversation way
less frequently now….like once a month instead of once a week ;))

But one of our last Christmas’ in Denver I had a “moment”. Our church, which Mark was the
Music person (pastor? Director?) for on top of his teaching job, put on a musical using Andrew
Peterson’s “Behold the Lamb” album (fantastic, btw).  I remember one night sitting in the church- for a
service or a rehearsal or some such thing. It was cold and dark outside, and dark inside too, but
the twinkling Christmas lights and friendly faces made it warm and inviting. I was sitting next to
a friend who was expecting, bursting (like I am) with life coming at any moment. The band started
singing “Labor of Love”- a song about Mary as she gives birth to Jesus. And I can remember being
so swept up in that moment- in the magic of Christmas, the strength of Mary, the whole Christmas
story. And I guess at that time I knew children were a bit far off for us, but I remember wishing that
if the time ever came for us to have a child, that I could have a child right around Christmas time,
because of the magic and beauty and power of this season.

In insignificant ways I sometimes think God remembers me. This is hard for me to think- hard for me
to say- harder still to believe and impossible not to believe. I have prayed and hoped for so many
much more significant things, and yet in this small insignificant way, I think perhaps I was heard.
Mysterious and maddening.  

I read an essay about Advent by Sarah Bessey, whom I really enjoy reading when I have the time.
She says “advent is for the ones who know longing”.

I think of our daughter and why we named her Jubilee. Because we long for restoration and
we hope to be apart of bringing His kingdom here.

I think of our son, and the name we have chosen for him, because again, still, we long.

This Advent I am longing, and very soon I will hold a new little baby in my arms. I imagine we will
sit under the blasting air con, with the twinkly lights and Oh Holy Night and all the best Christmas
songs playing many times in the next few weeks. And I pray that this Christmas season is especially
sweet as I think of Mary while holding my son.