All things to all people.

What an adventure we have been on for the last week and a half.  It all began last Thursday when my dear friend Melanie called to tell me that she was finally in labor after 41 weeks of pregnancy.  I was on call to be her doula and was so grateful when my charge nurse let me leave work early to be with Melanie.  When I arrived at her house early Friday morning she was in early labor but the contractions were fairly consistent and uncomfortable enough that she couldn't sleep.  We all tried to rest, knowing labor can be a long process (this is where everyone should laugh, though they know not why yet).  I went home later in the morning, as her contractions had spaced out.  I figured she would be calling me later in the afternoon.  By late afternoon the contractions had puttered away completely, so I went to celebrate Jonathan's brother's birthday with the family.  We ate Mexican food and played putt-putt.  When we came back home we settled down for bed.  I had just gotten out of the shower when Cameron, Melanie's husband called to say that she was contracting pretty strongly and very regularly.  I told him to call me back when they felt as if they needed me.  I slept lightly, knowing he would be calling within a few hours.  Two hours later I was up and on my way to their house.  Melanie was clearly in painful labor and before I could enter the house she was coming out, saying she was ready to go to the hospital.  We went to the hospital to find she still was not dilating, despite the contractions, so they gave her a nice medicinal cocktail to try to help her get some rest.  This was the second night a row that she hadn't gotten much rest from the contractions, and essentially she had already been up for two days.  By the time all of this transpired it was around 5:15am.  I slept two hours in her room and then got up to go meet Jonathan for a conference I had promised to attend with him.  We spent all day at a wonderful conference on the spiritual roots of disease, and we both got a lot out of it.  To add to the chaos, during the lunch break at the conference we went to a wedding of a friend.  I was intermittently on the phone with Cameron, encouraging him in ways he could assist Melanie through the throws of labor. At the end of the conference, I couldn't reach anyone on the phone so I headed to the hospital unsure of what had transpired in the last few hours.  By the time I arrived at the hospital it was 10:15pm.  Melanie had desired to labor naturally, but after 48 hours of labor and 3 days without any rest, she opted for an epidural simply because she was exhausted.  Understandable!  She was such a champion to make it that far!  We spent the night trying to rest as she chugged along through the labor process.  Of course, "rest" in this situation still only means a few 30 minute naps here and there.  By 5:00am she was increasingly uncomfortable, and we tried to keep her as comfortable and relaxed as possible.  Her epidural was wearing down, and she had finally reached labor transition.  After less than an hour of pushing, my dear friend Melanie gave birth to a hefty (in the cutest way possible) baby boy.  Rhyan Scott Ford was born at 7:11am.  All I could say after 54 hours of labor and 4 days without sleep was "THANK HEAVEN FOR 7:11!"  Rhyan weighed in at a whopping 9 pounds 7 ounces, but the Lord designed Melanie for it and she truly gave birth like a champ, even after what must have been a record breaking time in labor.  Welcome to the world, little Rhyan!  After the new family was settled, I headed home to pick up Josiah and go to church to see the dedication of sweet baby Lucas, the child of our friends Derek and Angela, and coincidentally the last birth I attended back in January.  I apologized in advance to our pastor, knowing I would never be able to stay awake during the whole service.  I'm glad to go to a church where I can admit that openly and be received with grace.

When I finally got home Sunday afternoon I crashed.  I had somehow managed to be present for all of the REALLY important things I wanted to attend that weekend--the conference, the wedding, the birth, the dedication.  I slept all afternoon and woke up at 6:30pm.  It was now time to pack for our early morning flight out to the Virgin Islands for vacation!  I spent the next 6 hours packing, cleaning, and putting Josiah to bed.  I was almost ready to go, but I just needed to get Josiah's passport.  I went to the drawer where I had seen it last to see it was not there.  I resisted the urge to panic, consoling myself that Jonathan probably moved it and didn't tell me.  Unfortunately, Jonathan arrived home shortly after 12am and had no idea where the passport was.  He headed to the bedroom to pack and I began an in depth search for the passport.  After 30 minutes of very meticulous pilfering I announced to Jonathan, "I am trying not to panic but I can't help it.  I have no idea where this passport could be."  Jonathan paused his packing to help me search.  It HAD to be around somewhere.  We searched long and hard in every possible place we could think of.  45 minutes into the search we sat down to pray.  All I could say was, "pleeeaaaaaseeeee, please, pleeeeeeasssee, please, pleassssssse God."  Terror streaked through me as I contemplated what time of morning to call my parents to announce the news that we would not, in fact, be traveling with them in the morning.  I had originally settled on 3am, since we were supposed to head out around 6:45am, but at 2:30am I reached a point of desperate delirium and I called my mom.  I whimpered across the phone, "Mooom... (quiver in my voice) I don't think we are going to be able to come with you in the morning."  My mom, concerned and still a little sleepy of course asked why, to which I responded, "Because (break into sobs) I can't find Josiah's passpoooort! (continue sobs)."  They decided to get ready and try to come help us find it.  We had looked every imaginable place by this point, and we had combed the realistic places at least 4 times.  While I waited on them to arrive, I started looking in completely irrational places.  I started pulling the linens off of my closet shelf, wrinkling them up to verify it wasn't in each sheet.  I got to the bottom sheet and when I lifted it up I went bug-eyed.  There, in all of it's navy and gold glory, sat Josiah's passport.  I went outside to get Jonathan, who was searching the cars.  I was cheering, "I found it, I found it!" and "Thank You, thank You, thank You, thank You!"  One of my favorite authors, Anne Lamott, says the two best prayers are "please please please" and "thank you thank you thank you," and in that moment I certainly couldn't disagree.  I called my mom to cancel her early departure.  It was 2:56am.  The only justification we could come up with regarding WHY the passport was there, was that Jonathan was intending to put in the the fire safe with the other passports and got distracted en route to do so.  Of course we didn't make it to bed until after 4am because we still had to do the things we intended to do at midnight, like, wrap things up, finish packing, and shower...but at least we were getting on a plane in the morning.