Constance Fern

My baby is a little over five weeks old, now. She was born August 8, 2012 at 6:41 am. She weighed 6lb 4oz and was 18 inches long. Here's some long expected photos!

Of the day she was born:

 And the day after:

And some memorable moments since:

 Her baptism at 4 days old. My dad, an OPC pastor did it while he was visiting.

Her papa reading her first novel, Watership Down by Richard Adams, aloud to her:

"Papa! what's going to happen to Hazel, Bigwig, Fiver and 3 or 4 of the others?"

First day at the beach! On her papa's birthday. He was out surfing...

She can't wait to learn to surf, too

And her first visit to The Lake house, where she went on a hike and had a dip in the lake!

Labor Day weekend

We also went to King Richard's Faire where she posed as a faery babe and I showed off my new short haircut!

Matchin' outfits, yo

The changeling

The faery family

More on the hair cut next time! I also want to write out my birth story on here. And maybe post a few more of the Medieval Fest pictures, because she was especially adorable in that outfit...

Meantime, this baby needs some sweet cuddles and maybe a walk on this fine day. Hope you enjoy the photos!

Twenty five for twenty five, a birthday post

April 21st was my birthday. I turned 25 this year. I'm wicked excited to reach this number. Finally, a grown up sounding age!

Enjoying sunshine and flowers on my 25th birthday

There's a lot of preconceptions about age. Some people reach a milestone like...25 or 30, or 40, and groan (I've even heard a few lame-o's groan at 22 or 23, like that's "old" or something.). They worry and fret about "growing old." Not me, I love it. Every year God gives me on this earth is a blessing. Every full rotation I make around the sun is an achievement. Another year to learn, grow, experience.

But I'm still kind of surprised by my age. I think back to when I was just a sprout, eleven or twelve, when I met people who were "twenty five" they were so grown up. I know that when kids meet me, when they call me "Mrs." (To which I still haven't gotten the hang of responding) I know they see me as an adult. I am so grown up to them. I'm married. I'm pregnant. I live on my own in state far away from my family. Even teenagers probably view me as a full fledged adult.

So why do I still feel so...Young? I thought I would know a lot more at twenty-five. Maybe even be a different person all together. But I'm still me. I still have the same experiences and memories I had at 18, just a few more now. And the few more aren't enough to make me feel "Grown up."

Is it always like this? Every year? I thought I'd feel grown up at 22, honestly. When it didn't happen, nor the years after, it's starting to make me think... Maybe I'll always feel sort of "young" and inexperienced. Maybe I'll always just be Me, but with a new number attached.

I kinda like it.

But enough of philosophical rambles! Let's celebrate!

Because I love lists and I'm incredibly vain, here's 25 facts about me. (I remember thinking of doing this when it was floating around Facebook, but since I cringe at doing what everyone else is doing I refrained. Now I'll give in to that desire because after all, it is my birthday).

1. Purple is my favourite colour. Followed closely by green and then orange. I love these colours separately and paired. I wear them when I can, but purple tends to make me look pale. According to quite a few people, I look really good in orange and green though.

2. I think about what I'm going to wear often. Picking out unusual clothing combinations is my favourite. I love breaking "fashion" rules; mismatching my earrings, mixing patterns, skirts over pants, contrasting colours. I love when people tell me I have an interesting style. I probably seek this type of attention more often than is good for me.

3. I think about food even more than I think about clothes. Food blogs are my most frequent time-consumers. I love cooking, for myself because I LOVE food, but also for other people. I crave people's compliments on my food. I like making interesting and different food. I enjoy pairing unusual flavors in desserts. Like rose cupcakes with sea salt and black pepper frosting. Or lavender chocolate scones, or dandelion icecream.

4. I imagine posting to this blog 100 times more often than it actually happens. You'd know all these facts by now if I actually posted some of the stuff I think of or plan to post.

5. I have several albums worth of photos that I took specifically for use on this blog, that have never been seen by human eyes. (Uhm, except mine.)

6. I don't use shampoo. No, I don't use baking soda either (though I used to.) No, my hair isn't disgusting. In fact, its more perfect, beautiful and shiny than it's ever been. I used to have a major greasy hair problem. No longer! (Should I do a post on this?)

7.  I make my own deodorant. It's very effective, too.

8. I make my own laundry detergent.

 9. I make my own mayonnaise (and ketchup and sauerkraut too, now!)

 10. I make my own bread, and have done so for more than 3 years.

11. I make my own clothes frequently. Usually refashioned out of some premade thrifted garment. And except for a swimsuit, I haven't bought a new item of clothing in more than five years.

12. If it occurs to me that I can make something from scratch, instead of buying it, I will not rest until I figure out how. Then I decide if it was worth the time, effort or cost of base ingredients to continue doing so. In the case of the above, it most certainly has been. Sometimes its not, like home made tortillas, those things are hard work, man!

13. I hate consumerism. Can you tell?

14. In every pattern, print, blob, wrinkly curtain or bedspread, ceiling design, grains of wood, bundle of sticks or leafy bush there is a picture, a face, a figure. I will find it, I will find multiple ones. I will look at it from different angles to see how it changes. I will imagine stories about this animal or person. I will draw them. They will become mine. *cackle*

15. I want a house with a huge plot of land. I want to plant an herb garden just outside my kitchen door, and a vegetable garden in the back yard. I want lots of chickens that I can move around in a little chicken train to fertilize land as I need and eat their scrumptious healthy eggs. I want goats and cows and to drink their good milk and make cheese and yogurt every day. I want bees and orchards and berry patches. I want to be as self-sustained in my little farm as much as possible. My own homestead kingdom. This is quite possibly my number one desire in life. It is, no doubt, an idol that I should cast aside so I can focus on God again.

16. If I could choose any time period to visit, it would be early colonial America. Back when Americans were hardcore, rugged and awesome.

17. If I don't go outside in a day, especially if the weather is sunny and breezy, I get seriously depressed.

18. I'm a researcher and a looker-up-er. If I plan to embark on something I thoroughly search out all the facts, read the guides and pore through the information. Sometimes I'll do this multiple times before I do or decide.

19. The above fact is probably why I have such strong convictions about what I believe.

20. But it doesn't necessarily mean I'll follow the rules, (directions, recipe, or whatever.) In fact, I'm very bad at following directions, even if I've read them over a few times. I pretty much can't follow a recipe without changing at least one or two things, if not more.

21. I have 8 siblings; six sisters and two brothers. I'm number four. I enjoyed baby sitting. (No, really, I did.)

22. I was homebirthed, breastfed, homeschooled and catechized. I plan to do the same with my children.

23. I'm very passionate about foraging and herbalism, though I'm still quite an amateur in the area. I would love to advance in my foraging so well that I can live off the land without planting a seed. Except I would plant a lot of seeds if I had room to. (see fact 15)

24. My husband, John, is my best friend. I love him more than anyone in the world. I can't imagine a more amazing man to spend my life with.

25. I can't imagine a life more beautiful than the one I currently have. (With the exception of my life added to fact 15.)

How John and I came to Be Together, Part Three

This is the third and final post in mine and John's love story. See here for part one, and here for part two.

Despite the fact that we weren't calling it "dating" what  happened after that was more or less, us dating. We had a mutual fondness for each other and now that it was out it was a little hard to be strictly friends. We were still very good friends, but now we were more...sort of.. During his stay in the Keys, my family decided to take their vacation early because of an impending hurricane. Abby and I were to stay home because we had college classes to attend. To avoid appearance of evil, my dad arranged for John to stay at the church at night, but all during each day we spent blissful time together. John and I went out for companionable walks, he came with me to my college classes (the ones that weren't cancelled due to the hurricane) we went to the beach together and did some star-gazing together.

On one occasion, we had the evening to ourselves because Abby went on a date with Terence. We made dinner together and dressed up a little and ate. After dinner John suggested we dance. I put on some Celtic music which we both enjoyed and we did some merry jigs together, feeling a little giggly and silly. The evening was growing late and John needed to be going soon. We decided on one more dance. It was a slower song, so we commenced to waltz. I remember we entwined fingers for that dance and as it went on, we got closer and closer. As the song ended and the next track came on, John and I fell into an embrace. We had taken to hugging each other before he left for the night, but this hug went past the normal duration of hugs. It lasted the entire second song. Then John quickly broke it off, he hastily placed something in my hand and closed my fingers over it before he said goodbye and quit the house in a flushed hurry. I watched him go with my heart pounding and then opened my hand to see what he gave me. It was a ring he had always worn. I was stunned, and that was when I knew I was wildly and madly in love with him

Funny how after that we continued as we had before, but now our evening goodbye hugs lasted longer and I found myself wanting to look at him a whole lot more.  One night as we looked at the bright stars together, John asked if he could put his arm around me; I readily agreed. And on the walk home, he asked me if he could hold my hand, to which I also agreed. After that, we always held hands when we walked.

He did eventually have to go home, though. He had relatives in NC that were expecting him to stay with them on a particular date. They like things to be just so, so he couldn't extend his stay any further. He had already called his uncle and asked if it was okay if he showed up a few days late once, so he figured he'd better not push his luck. Since he wanted a place to stay on the way up.

After he left but before my family returned, my house was so quiet. Abby was almost always gone because she had things to do with Terence and so I frequently was alone in the house. I had a lot of time to reminisce and think. I was happy that John and I had established a relationship of sorts, but I was also very sad and pensive about how long it would be before I saw him again. We did not have a "next time" planned, or figured out. Abby and Terence's wedding was coming up, and he had been invited, so he hoped to come to that, if finances allowed, but it was quite a few months in the future.

We continued our long distance communication, staying up late chatting on the phone or internet. It seemed that we never ran out of things to talk about. Our conversations never got very sappy or romantic, but they were always so wonderful and encouraging.  Sometimes, however, it was very difficult to be 1,800 miles away from the person you like the best. I think John felt it the most since it was mainly up to him to figure out how to get us together. In the mean time, I was busy with college and making semi indefinite plans to move to Tampa and helping Abby plan her wedding.

Abby's and Terence's wedding got moved up in the calender, they wanted to get married before Abby's college semester ended so that they'd be settled for her first summer off. John didn't quite have the funds to make another trip to Florida so soon. He missed it and I missed him. I decided I would go to him, since he had come to me last. I got a job and bought a car and saved up for a road trip to New Hampshire with my younger sister, Julie. Unfortunately, my car was not the most reliable and it broke down a month after I bought it. Road trip being no longer possible, I decided to fly. We went that summer and stayed somewhere between two and three weeks with John and his family. It was one of the most delightful summers of my life.

We didn't get a lot of time to ourselves, but any time spent together was precious. We hiked Mt. Washington and picked blueberries, canoed on his family's lake, did some archery and spent a lot of time exploring the woods behind his house. All these things included Julie and John's younger brother. Then one day we managed to convince Julie that John and I needed to be alone (she didn't seem to understand that we were in love) and we went on a wild round about trip to the beach. The night before we packed a picnic, then early, early, we rode with John's dad to his work in some north east part of Massachusetts. While he worked, John and I borrowed the car to find a magical beach in Maine called Ft. Foster. John had been there several times in his childhood but never drove himself. We took quite a few wrong turns and went in circles a few times before finding it. But when we arrived, it was wonderful.

We had our picnic and frolicked in the waves and sat on a rock over looking the ocean. The wild New England coast is so different than the tropical waters of the Keys. While exploring a little stone turret and looking at the sea John took my hand and asked me if he could kiss me. I thought about it awhile. I had kissed Tod way back when, once and regretted it ever since. I didn't want to throw away kisses on every boy who asked me, even if I was sure I was going to marry him. I said no, and told him why. He understood and respected that. But the rest of the trip and especially after Julie and I went back to FL, I wished I had said yes.

While in NH and staying with John's fabulous family, I invited them to come down and stay with my family some time. To my delight John's dad seemed to think it was a great idea and actually started to consider it. The time between visits was frequently difficult. I was happy to know I had a dedicated guy, but I longed to be with him. Money was the main obstacle that kept us from closing the distance more often, but sometimes, I wondered if my family was suspicious or disapproving of how often we attempted to see each other. I still hadn't told my parents because I didn't think they would take our relationship seriously. So when John's dad decided he wanted to see the Florida Keys, it was a real boon to John and I.

Right before I moved to Tampa, early in the December after Julie's and my trip to NH, John's family came down to the Keys. Our relationship was still fairly secret, since it wasn't official in any way. John and I took every chance we had to sneak off on romantic walks and time alone. It was on one of these walks, while looking at the stars on the same abandoned bridge that he told me I was the only one for him, that we kissed for the first time.

I can't even say who initiated it; we had our heads together and we weren't actually paying very much attention to the stars. But somehow our lips found each other and that was that. I remember thinking, when I realized how close our faces were and sweet his breath smelled that if he kissed me, I wouldn't pull back. It could have been on my decision alone that allowed it to happen, but it was perfect. The most romantic first kiss a couple could have dreamed of. It was John's first kiss of all time, and I heartily wish it were mine as well.

It might seem strange to some how we moved along in the physical aspect of our relationship. I said no to John's first offer of a kiss because I wasn't quite sure or comfortable enough to allow that to happen. But between that summer and that winter, our love and relationship progressed to where I was one hundred percent sure of John. We didn't have many chances to kiss after our first one, on that visit, but each one was special and romantic. And by now we had a plan for being together forever....

As I mentioned before, I intended to move to Tampa. The time came for me to make that definite move and January the following move was the time. The same year, John made plans to move his self to Tampa.
He visited me once before he planned to move. In April, for my birthday. It was a sweet short visit, and we knew that the next time we were together, we would never have to really be apart again.

 While I established myself there, living with my sister and her husband, working at a health food store and going to the community college, John saved up his money and prepared to make his move. He had originally planned to move down with a friend who was interested in a particular school in Tampa, but then his friend found a girlfriend and decided he'd rather stay in NH. So John forged ahead on his own. And the plans all came together. The time between visits grew shorter every time. We went from a year and a half between meeting and seeing each other again, to eight months, to five months, to four months. Two months more and we'd be together forever. 

One of John's cousins were getting married in North Carolina in June. John's family drove there, and I flew in. They picked me up and we booked two rooms at a hotel. John's mom and I stayed in one room and John and his dad and brother stayed in another. We went to the rehearsal dinner and party where John and I sneaked off to a corner in the garden to make out and spend some time together. We had a jolly time on that trip with his family, stopping in Virginia on the way home to see some sites.

Back in New Hampshire I helped John pack and we loaded up his Subaru. Not long after that we set out to drive to Tampa, Florida.  Once there, John applied for a job at the same health food store I worked at and was hired on the spot (I had a good reputation). Then we went to the library and internet searched and craig-listed for apartments. My brother-in-law was unwilling to allow John to stay in his house for even a night, even though he never actually said "He's not welcome," he made it fairly obvious. Neither John nor I even bothered to ask. John slept in his car for three nights before he found a well-priced and reasonably close apartment. When I think of it now I realize how brave it was of John to simply pack up and drive down here with only a shadow of a promise for a job and no prospects of an abode. I felt terrible leaving him at the Wal-mart parking lot at night where he parked his car and slept, but it was certainly a sure way of him to convince me how much he loved me.

And then he found a place. It was the most perfect apartment in the world. Situated directly on my way to work. I picked John up on my way to work and we spent nearly every waking minute together. Bliss. I left only at night to sleep at my sister's house.

The rest from there is fairly obvious.  We dated in real life like normal people for about two more months, then John proposed at the beach during sunset. It was romantic and beautiful. I burst into laughter and said yes. I actually was taken by surprise by his timing, but it was perfect. Sometime just before John moved to Tampa, I told my parents that John and I were dating. My dad gave me very similar advice to when I was considering Bert, strangely.  Despite the fact that I had told them how serious we were, they still seemed very surprised - shocked, even- when we announced our engagement. Nevertheless, we were engaged in September and the following spring; the first day of spring, in fact, March 21st, 2008, we were married.We had known each other for five years and more or less dated for two.

And we've been living happily ever after!

A sign I painted for our house

So there you have the incredibly long and fairly romantic story of John and Christiana and all the hardships they had to endure between blissful visits with each other. If you've read this whole thing, I salute you.

How John and I came to Be Together, Part Two

This is the second part of how John and I met, fell in love and got married. For part one, go here.

According to John, the night of the day he left the Keys he called his dad. "I met the most awesome girl in the world, Dad. She was so cool." He said. John's dad asked him if he was going to start a relationship with me. He was 15. He hardly knew me and he lived 1,800 or so miles from me. Some how, a long distance dating relationship did not seemed entirely too daunting to him. He settled with keeping in touch with me via email and AIM.

Now I have to mention all the other relationships I had to deal with. At that time in my young newly turned 16 year old life, I was semi "dating" a guy I had had a crush on. He was a few years older than me but apparently didn't know any better. He lived in a different state, somewhere.... We'll call him Tod because that's totally not his real name and if he's some sort of stalker he'll still know I'm talking about him and be offended by my using an ugly name to call him. (Sorry if your name is Tod in real life.)

Tod and I had had a mutual crushes on each other back when he lived in the Keys with his brother and he came to our church. As far as I was concerned I was going to marry him. But then he got tired of the no-where job he had at Kmart and how mostly boring the Keys can be when you don't have an interest in water sports, so he up and moved back to where he came from.

I figured, well, I'd just have to date him long distance. I wasn't going to be of marrying age for a good 3 to 5 years anyway. Well, we kind of dated and we kind of didn't. He was a jerk and never responded to my emails or real life letters. He occasionally called me and then didn't say much. He wasn't a very good conversationalist. My journal at the time is filled with tearful entries of how confused I was that this guy with whom I was "totally in love" simply wouldn't communicate with me.

Shortly before the New Hampshire Boys came in to our lives, a pastor from way north Florida, who was good friends with my family, thought that it was time my sister, Abby, at 19 was in a relationship. There aren't many eligible guys in the Keys and that's just that. How any of us expected to find husbands is beyond me. So our pastor friend sent down a very nice young man, we'll call him Bert, to meet Abby and see if they would fall in love and get married. They didn't.

Instead what happened was he fell in love with me. Well, sort of. He remained friends with our family despite the fact that he and Abby were obviously not in love and visited us occasionally. While we were still friends but not in love was when we met Seth, Sam, Rob and John. I remember telling him about them over AIM.

John's and my relationship was limited to friendly, funny emails and the occasional AIM chat. My relationship with Bert remained friendly as well, but I found myself seriously having a crush on him as my relationship with Tod spun wildly out of existence.

A lot of things were happening in my life at this time, my family moved from living above the church to a new, beautiful house of our own. I started attending the community college in Key West and continued with finishing my highschool. I considered more seriously moving to Tampa to live with my sister and I also seriously wondered if any of these guys would be the one I would marry.  I was growing up and figured I needed to sort things out.

One day, around the age of 17 I decided Tod really wasn't the one for me. I liked Bert and he had told me that he liked me too. I wasn't sure if I wanted to be in a "Serious" relationship, as in courting or dating with intention to marry, I still felt I was a little young for that, but Bert was adamant that he was willing to wait for me if I needed time. (He was finishing college and moving to a real life big time job around this time.) I broke it off with Tod and wondered why I had taken so long to get around to it.

My sisters' and my friendship with the NH boys remained fairly steady despite long lapses between conversations. Though while I was staying up til 3 AM talking to Bert over AIM, my correspondence with John became much slower. And once, Julie, chatting with John on AIM told him that I was in love with someone else. "They're practically dating." She had said. And looking back I think that may have been around the time when my correspondence with John had ceased completely, for a good three or four months. I hardly noticed, I'm sad to say. At this time I went to France for three weeks with Abby, our older sister, Bett, and her husband.

 Then one day, a couple of the famous NH Boys, Sam and Seth, came down with a few new friends, and we met more "New Hampshire Boy" gang. I remember being sad that John didn't come down too. Sam and Seth thought we ought to come to NH for a visit and see some snow and learn to snowboard. So that next winter, we did. Well, Julie and I did. Abby was forming a relationship with a fine man in town and was not interested in leaving him at the time.

I'll never forget the night after we arrived in New Hampshire. We headed over to Seth's apartment and I remember asking Sam (at whose grandparents house we were staying, and who was driving) if there was a possibility of us seeing John. As we pulled into Seth's driveway I saw through the window Seth talking to a very handsome guy, whom I did not recognize. "Hey, John is here." Sam mentioned to me. I wondered how he knew because there were no other cars in the driveway.

We entered the house and Seth grinned and hugged us, then I turned to the handsome stranger. My jaw musta' dropped. It was John. The same John I had met two and a half years before, but now his hair was short and while it was still a little wild, it was very dashing. His face was more chiseled than the 15-year-old boyish face I had remembered, but still freckled. I think my heart must have done a little flip flop when he gave me a smile and a nod and called me Lady Christiana.  Then we cut with the formal stuff and gave each other a brief and friendly hug. And even though I was "practically dating" another guy and fully expected to marry that other guy, I more than enjoyed every moment I had with John on that trip.

Like times before, when John and I were in a group together, we were side by side and generally in our own bubble. It felt like we hadn't spoken in aeons since we hadn't really emailed in awhile. We had a lot to catch up on. Just as easy to talk with as before but now he was handsome and dashing too. And chivalrous. On one occasion I had left my notebook in his brother's car and we had already taken off our shoes. He ran outside, barefoot, in the snow to grab it for me. When he got in, I remembered my pen was still out there. He ran out again. I thought I would burst with the romance of it all.

Then, sadly, the trip ended. This time, however, John and I renewed our correspondence commitment, and we even exchanged real addresses for snail-mail. My life suddenly seemed a lot less bright and amazing when I had left John's side. Pair that with the reality of my relationship with Bert and I began to realize some very important things. Shortly after seeing John, I had a visit with Bert. I stayed with him and his family for a few days and while on the trip I noticed something about myself.  And that was, that myself with Bert was very different than myself with John, or any of my other friends. I realized that due to the difference in age and stage of life we were in, I acted a lot more serious and grown up around Bert. Not that it was a bad thing, I think, I still had good times with him and we joked around together, but I found that I liked the way I was with John so much more than I liked the way I was with Bert.  The insight gave me some serious things to think about.

I was a few months from turning 18. I knew when I did that Bert would pressure me a little more about "officializing" our relationship. He would want us to formally enter a courtship stage and move on from there. I began to get panicky. I talked to my dad (a great idea). He told me I was still young, even though I would soon be of age for a great many things. He encouraged me to hold off on any serious relationships if I wasn't sure about them. Grateful for not only the good advice (which I kind of already felt, but it was nice to have it affirmed) but also the good excuse of "My dad doesn't think I'm ready." I told Bert. Tearfully; for we had had a rather nice relationship and he was a great guy and was always very honourable by me (unlike that scuddy Tod). I was mostly sad to break his heart, the idea of being free of any kind of serious relationship was a great relief to me, though. I told him I was interested in finishing college before I wanted to look into marriage. I told him I could not guarantee that I would still be attracted to him at the end of it (honestly, I was already pretty much over him, but I did still really like him). I told him not to wait for me. He, though saddened by it, agreed to this and we separated ways. Our relationship had not been a very strong friendship before it became more, and so we didn't have much in common any more once we broke up. But he said a funny thing in one of his last letters to me. "Whoever you end up with (and I have a feeling it will be that John fellow) will be a very blessed and lucky guy." I guess I must have talked about John quite a bit back then...

Meanwhile, John's and my correspondence, both real letters, emails and AIM continued strong. He even called me occasionally. Then one day, perhaps a week after I had broken up with Bert, I was checking the mail again for my family, not expecting anything, for John had just sent me a letter a day or two before. There was another letter from him to me in our mailbox. My heart thundered. What could it be about?

I remember I immediately went and hid behind my parents hot-tub and read it, the rest of the mail in a pile beside me on the ground. It was a proposal of courtship. I nearly fainted. I wanted to write him that same day with a "YES! I would LOVE to date you and marry you!!!!!" But then my sensible self chimed in. "Hello? You just broke it off with Bert with the excuse that you wanted to finish college before you had a serious relationship. If word gets around he'll think you just use that as a convenient excuse to date John." Oh yeah. I couldn't really do that, now could I? Bert had asked if there was anyone else I was more interested in at the time of my breaking up with him. I said (and honestly) no. Because while I was very fond of John, he had never made any romantic advances towards me. Our relationship had been only friendly.

I wanted to cry as I wrote the letter saying I was honoured by his request but not interested in any serious relationships until I was done with college. I remember writing, with hope, that if his interest in me remained the same at the end of 4 years, I would be more than happy to date him then. We both agreed that even though he had asked me to date him and that I had refused, we could easily still be friends. And we did. But now it was slightly different. I now knew that he did in fact like me in a romantic way, and I returned the feeling secretly. We let the scenario pass after one complete conversation about it and remained friends just as before.

Somewhere around this time I finished highschool. Proud of myself and feeling the need to celebrate, I decided to invite John to stay for a few weeks with me and my family. I asked him if he wanted to take me on Promenade. My sister Abby had had Sam take her on Prom and nothing romantic ever came of it, so I figured it wouldn't be very forward of me to ask. Whether it was or wasn't, John happily agreed and came down that September.  For our promenade, we dressed in Medieval clothes and booked a short sail on a historical tall ship that did a pretty sunset sail in waters of Key West. My sister, Abby and her then fiance, Terence, offered to make a "magical" dinner for us. They set up Terence's patio like a medieval tavern and
 pretended to be inn keepers and served us shepherds pie and walnut salad. It was fun and romantic, even though John and I did not in fact, hold hands or exchange words of romance to each other. We were still strictly friends at this point.

After eating, we spent some time at a dark beach looking at the ocean. Then we drove back to my family's house. Funny enough, it was the next day that we established our relationship. I was still going to the community college and John accompanied me to one of my classes. Afterwards, while driving home, I encouraged him to pass my street and keep going, I wanted to show him a pretty place further up my neighbourhood. There, on an abandoned bridge over looking a pristine green canal, John told me he was not interested in having a relationship with any one else. He was still interested in me and was willing to wait as long as I needed. These dedicated words warmed my heart and encouraged me.  I told him that I returned this feeling. We weren't dating, but we were dedicated to each other, in a sense. I did not feel guilty that John was willing to wait for me the way I felt when Bert said the same thing. John and I were the same age and in the same stages of life. We were still young and in need of some establishment before any kind of marriage could happen. In the very least we needed to live in the same town. I now look back on this moment and think of it as the official start of our romantic relationship.

Okay, turns out this is way too long to do in only two parts. Come back tomorrow for part three! Concerning our dating and marriage.

Four years of marriage. Boo ya. Or How John and I came to be together Part One

On Wednesday, March 21st, John and I celebrated our four year anniversary. I intended to do a post on that day but I'm rather far behind on this blog and of course, I was too busy cleaning my house and preparing a special anniversary dinner (and *cough*, making mugs and vases for fun on my friends pottery wheel....)

Well, last year, for our anniversary I wrote a long and boring post on why I don't think marriage is hard. Or at least, that's what it was supposed to say. It was really just long and ramble-y. But this year, I think I'll write the story of how we met. It's way more interesting and pretty awesome too, although also very long. I'll split it into two parts for ya. Part one is how we met. Part two is how our teenage, long-distance acquaintance turned into a serious and beautiful relationship.

But before I begin, do you remember this?

Actually, I don't think I told you about it. And I'm not sure why I took a photo of it either, just something kind of funny to me about an egg falling off my table and breaking on my carpet, I guess... On my anniversary. Last year....
Except now it's especially weird because while I was making eggs and toast for John for breakfast on our anniversary this year, I broke another egg. Twice now, I've broken an egg on my anniversary. Good thing I don't believe in omens! Totally weird, but definitely coincidental...in as far as I believe in coincidences, which don't really exist because God is completely sovereign and has it all planned out from the tiniest detail to the big eternal picture. And this is pretty clear when you hear our story, because it's wild that a girl in Key West should marry a guy from the mountains of New Hampshire, isn't it?

In Boston

Now, to the story.

I grew up in the Florida Keys. My whole life. I traveled a little with my family, but not extensively, the Florida Keys was my world. And while I figured one day I'd grow up and move off somewhere, maybe go to college, that somewhere never really extended farther than Tampa, where my older sister lived. I was only fifteen.

Well, it was the day before my birthday, the next day I would be sixteen. It was Easter Sunday. We were in church, my dad in the front being his pastor self, and the family sitting in the backer rows of the building. Right as the 11:00 service started, four young men entered the building and sat directly behind my sisters and I. They were kind of dirty, a little smelly and their shirts were really wrinkly. They all had long hair, some of them in braids. I didn't get the greatest view of them before they sat down, so I probably took these details in afterward, since obviously, I wasn't going to crane my neck around to look at them.

 I don't remember if I wondered who they were, or if they distracted me from the service or if I intended to introduce myself to them after the service, but then, I don't remember the sermon much either (sorry, dad).  It just so happened, that after the service, Abby, my older sister, and I turned around. And there were four young men, standing there. We introduced ourselves to the visitors like model pastors daughters. Their names were Seth, Sam, Rob and John. Seth and Sam were brothers. Rob and John were brothers. This is how it happened:
Abby said "Hi, I'm Abby."
They said respectively "Hi, I'm, Seth, Sam, Rob, John"
Then I said "I'm Christy" and they said, once again, their names respectively. Except for John who said "And I'm....still...John." Which immediately endeared me to him. Because I was thinking it was very silly that they were all repeating their names when I had just heard their names.

 They were from New Hampshire, they were on a road trip. They had been driving most of the night and slept, the four of them in Seth's five seater car, on the side of the highway. When the morning came, they thought they would like to go to church, it being Sunday and all, but they also wanted some better sleep. So they headed into Key West to sleep on the beach and while driving through the lower Keys they saw our church building, and the big sign that said "Worship at 11". Which is when they decided to come to our church because the service was the latest they had seen yet and therefore they could get more sleep before going to church.

Cool how that worked out, eh?

Well, while Abby and I chatted with these boys, it turned out we had common spirits. Not a lot in common, necessarily but similar attitudes towards life. That is, we did stuff that we liked and thought was fun, and didn't care if it was considered "cool" or not. Of course, that really means we just had our own definition of cool, because no teenager can actually not care about being cool. And since Abby was the oldest of our new formed group at 19, we were all teenagers.
Seth was, had been, a snowboard instructor for the winter, Rob was an apprentice electrician, Sam and John were still in school, but the cool part was that they were homeschooled, just like us! We chatted about the merits and awesomeness of being homeschooled. We chatted about the retardation of public schools. We chatted about life in the Keys and life in New Hampshire. Then it was getting late, and no more people were in the church. They said they were going to go into town to see some sights and we invited them back to evening service, if they wanted.

And they came. Much to Abby's and my delight.

It now occurs to me how very unusual it is that four young men, on their own in a different state from their parents or anyone that they know, should come to church at all. But especially strange that they would voluntarily go to an Sunday evening service. And even more so, because their church at home didn't even have one. The first service means one thing, but I think their attending the second service might mean something else.

After evening service, we regrouped and continued to chat. Our topics of conversation were varied and sundry and at some point, my mom and dad joined the conversation, which didn't phase any of us. When it came out that they didn't actually have a place to stay in Key West and that they intended on sleeping in their car or on the beach again, my Dad offered them a couple night's stay in our church's sanctuary. They gladly accepted and asked if there was anything that needed to be done around the church premises that four strapping young men could help out with.

Turned out there was. Though it didn't really require their strapping-ness.

My dad's evangelistic ministry puts out a quarterly newsletter. Back then, it was quite the process to get out. over 1000 people received our newsletter by mail, and then we always needed extra to hand out and keep on the church's back table. These newsletters needed to be folded in half, have the insert placed in the middle, and folded again. Then mailing sticker dots put on to keep them sealed shut and address labeled after that. It's a long and arduous process made better and faster by more helping hands and some good conversation. Abby and I already had been working on newsletters most of Saturday, so we showed our new friends the work room and the six of us sat and worked and chatted. Mom and Dad went home (which back then, was upstairs of the church) and late into the night four boys and two girls talked and folded paper in the church offices.

It was during these hours that John and I sat beside each other compared interests. We actually did have a lot in common. Both being wildly interested in fantasy literature, reading and writing it. And while I was thinking this guy is so cool, he's just like me! It's like we're the same.  John said aloud "You're just like me! We're practically the same!"

I was smitten. He was moderately good looking, with his straw coloured hair in shoulder length braids, and freckles and blue green eyes, but what really got me, I think, was how much attention he paid me. And the fact that we had so much in common. He was cool and sweet and had a very funny sense of humour. He made me laugh more than anyone I knew, and best of all, he was the first person of all time (maybe the only one?) to tell me that I had a beautiful laugh. Up until that point in my life I had been told on many occasion, that I had a "weird" and"obnoxious" laugh, that it was "too loud," "sounded like a donkey," and "sounded like a pig." And once I had been told I should "get a new laugh." And he told me it was beautiful. Beautiful. Yes, I really was smitten.

The next day was my birthday, and since our New Hampshire Boys (as we called them from then on) were staying beneath us, we saw them. They went to the gas station down the road and bought themselves a gallon of milk and some cereal, and then they had breakfast with us. Our family had cereal too, and would have gladly shared with them, but it was just as well that they bought their own, for all we had was soy milk and the healthy cereals....

Being homeschooled, and it being my birthday, I declared it an official holiday and all my siblings followed suit. We took our NH boys on a walk around our neighbourhood and showed them the quarry were we liked to swim and the bridge where we liked to jump into the water. It was a jolly time. They expressed interest in seeing my dad's evangelism technique in downtown Key West so we took them to the famous Mallory Square. More accurately, they drove themselves and myself down (since it was my birthday.) and my sister rode with my dad down. We played hacky sack and roamed Key West before going back home to have birthday cake with my family and then proceeding to the church offices once again to continue to fold newsletters. My younger sister Julie joined us then, realizing she was missing out on a lot of fun.

It now occurs to me to wonder at the trust of my parents, both in their daughters and in complete stranger guys to allow us to hang out so much without any kind of chaperoning. All I can say is that my parents are incredibly reformed and very much trust God's sovereign will.....

That night, we folded newsletters till about 3 am. When we ran out of newsletters to fold. After that, we talked a little more and then we got to playing card games and Mafia and all sorts of other stuff. It was the first and only night I ever did not sleep. The sky began to lighten. We walked down to the quarry together again and watched the sun rise and the morning bloom. It was nice.

During this whole time John stayed by my side as much as possible. While Julie and Abby grouped up with the others, John and I seemed always slightly paired off and to the side, holding our own conversations. I felt very fond of him; I appreciated his attentions and loved how much we had in common. I had never had such easy exchanges. His humor and wit were hilarious and original, I didn't even know such funny people existed! Though I did not think him particularly handsome or hot, I did find him rather cute. He was only 15 after all.

That afternoon they left, saying they had arrangements to stay with some friends in northern parts of Florida and then they had to be somewhere else soon after that. We all exchanged e-mail addresses and AIM names before parting ways. (There was no facebook back then, thankfully). I went to bed to take a nap, smiling in my sleep I'm sure.

Stay tuned for part 2!

Life history update: Solomon

Caution: this post will probably be sad and very long.

I was thinking of posting this yesterday, but it was my anniversary, so I didn't. Plus, I didn't want to post two too serious posts in a row. I want this to be a happy blog. But I do feel that this is an important thing to share. It is a rather important part of my life now and I want to be able to refer to it here without people wondering "What is she talking about?"

I was pregnant at the beginning of this year. 21 weeks pregnant and filled with happy dreams and thoughts of a baby due in May. How fun it would be to have a tiny baby with me on all my activities this summer! I'd take him to Old Songs festival and dance to the folk music with him there. I imagined tying him to my back or front (I plan to be a baby-wearer) and picking summer berries with him. I'd take him for my hikes and sit on logs or rocks in the woods to breastfeed him. And on the weekends John and I would take him to the beach with us. We would be a real family, the three of us. And all our plans and ideas for anything happening after May of this year included a third brand-new person.

note: I didn't know he was a boy at the time; we chose not to get an ultrasound because of expense and we didn't have any insurance. But in proper English grammar "he" is appropriate if you don't know and less bulky than "he/she" so I always referred to the baby as a "he" to keep it simple and grammatically correct.

I hadn't realized at the time just how much love and eagerness we had put into my pregnancy and the product thereof. I certainly did everything I could to make sure I was healthy and the baby was healthy, starting even before conception. I took folic acid and gave it to John too so all parts of our future baby would be protected from spina bifida. I didn't really know what it was, but I definitely didn't want our progeny to have it. I stopped drinking alcohol once it was a possibility that I was pregnant. No babies with fetal alcohol syndrome for us! I read up on preconception diets and pregnancy do's and don'ts. Do get regular exercise - I started walking and stretching every day. Don't smoke - duh! Neither John nor I have ever smoked anything in our lives, and I didn't plan on starting while pregnant. But I made especially sure to stay away from any kind of second-hand smoke. I was going to do everything right.

When the happy day came when the pregnancy test was positive I wandered about in a dream planning my homebirth, reading about The Bradley Method and natural childbirth and looking up midwives in my area. I ordered my prenatals and omega3 fish oils to give my baby a brainy headstart. Our kid was going to be a genius, John and I both agreed. And maybe he would have been. We'll never know.

What we do know was that he was healthy. Incredibly well formed, handsome for his age and size. All the right organs in all the right places. He enjoyed kicking up a storm whenever I was resting on the couch, reading or crocheting, and frequently while lying in bed trying to fall asleep. I didn't mind. I loved feeling my baby. I became so accustomed to those kicks that even when he was gone I thought I was feeling them. And he had bravely kept up that kicking, even in the last hours of his life, when his home, my womb - the safest place on earth, supposedly- failed him and emptied itself of all amniotic fluid.

I think back to those days before it happened and wonder "if I had known, if I had called the midwife earlier, gone to the hospital before it was too late, could we have saved him?" The midwives and doctors said "No." But I wonder still. Maybe they're just trying to make me feel better. After all, "What if's" And "If only's" can't bring babies back anyway.

It was new year's eve and I felt the baby settle a bit, what felt like lower in my womb. He seemed to be directly on my bladder. Even when I didn't actually have to pee, I felt like I had to. Frequently, when he kicked, it felt like he was kicking my bladder. It was vaguely uncomfortable but I had heard that it was quite normal to feel a constant need to pee and I've heard and read about many pregnant women complaining of a baby being on their bladder. I brushed aside my worries and enjoyed a new year's eve party with friends, toasting the new year with sparkling cider and then scurrying off to bed to get a good night's sleep.

It occurred to me the next day that the real reason I was feeling uneasy was the change in my discharge. It had become watery and there seemed to be more than usual. Sometimes, I would feel the wet leak into my underwear and think I had peed some. That had happened occasionally, though usually along with a sneeze or a cough. It didn't feel like anything had escaped my bladder though. I thought to call my midwife, but I had only just called her the day before about some blood spotting. She said it was due to the intercourse we had had, and not to worry unless other miscarriage symptoms happened. So instead, I googled my problem. I found that sometimes it was amniotic fluid, but that usually was a light yellowish colour and smelled strange. My discharge didn't smell like anything and it was very clear. But then I read that sometimes it didn't smell like anything. I also read that when you get into your second trimester (which I had reached a few weeks before) your discharge becomes more watery. Well, that was probably it. I figured. And tried really hard to dismiss the knot in my stomach. I'm feeling it now, just thinking about it. Why didn't I call my midwife then?

New Years day was a Saturday. And it came and went without much happening. Sunday, my knotted stomach continued as the watery discharge did. And sunday night, while using the bathroom, a flood of liquid trickled into the toilet, it was definitely not pee. It was definitely not regular cervical mucus. I paled. I panicked. I told John. He told me to call the midwife right away. I desperately hoped to her reassuring me that I was silly to worry and get some sleep. Instead, she told me to meet her at her office as soon as possible. We got there around 9:30pm.

She did a test on the mysterious fluid, which I felt leaking a whole lot more after the gush. As far as her tests were confirmed, it was amniotic fluid. She sent us to a hospital she worked with to do further tests and see if we could save the baby.

Before heading to the hospital, John and I stopped at home to pick up some items - toothbrushes, books, a change of clothes. We didn't know how long we would be there. I grabbed my camera. I had read in "What to Expect when You're Expecting" That after 20 weeks, if you had to give birth, or went into labor, there was a slim chance the baby would survive. I held on to that thought with all my might. I brought my camera in case I had to give birth (I had no signs of going into labor). We'd have pictures of his first moments of life. John and I prayed the whole way to the hospital. I was feeling jarred, but hopeful. John kept saying it would be fine. He told me not to worry. It was going to be okay. I let myself think "Maybe it will be okay."

It wasn't okay. We endured tests from the moment we got to the hospital at 11pm until around 3am, when the current doctor on staff told us that as far as she could tell my womb was nearly devoid of all amniotic fluid and the baby probably wouldn't survive. "But" She told us, "We'll have to wait till morning, so we can do further tests with a much higher quality ultrasound machine to really see what's happening." John and I slept at the hospital, fearful for what the morning would bring.

I remember when I gave up hope. Or I thought I did at the time. We waited for the ultrasound technician to be ready, and breakfast to come. I wasn't hungry, but I forced myself to eat. From what the doctor had told us, if the ultrasound confirmed what she was afraid of, inducing labor would be our best option. I shoveled down unsweetened cream of wheat, barely tasting it. Around this time I caught John's eyes. They were wide and sad. He took my hand and whispered "we can try again."

No.

My heart failed. All along John had been telling me it would be okay! If he had given up hope, it would definitely not be okay. "No!" I said. My voice caught and my objection turned into a sob. "Please, don't say that." I said. I wanted this baby. I didn't want to have to try again, I didn't want to have gone through all that- the hoping, the dreaming, the morning sickness- only to have to try again. Tears filled my eyes.
"I'm sorry." he said. "You're right. It will probably be okay." But I could tell he didn't mean it.

We went across the street where the little ultrasound office was located. They looked at our baby. He was strong and had an amazing heartbeat. He was in a womb that was empty. He had no chance to survive inside. And then another doctor came in to talk to us. At 21 weeks, life outside the womb was "inviable" she said. But, but, but? "What to Expect When You're Expecting" said.... Were my thoughts. She told us she was sorry. She told us our options: To wait until the baby died and let my body naturally go into labor, or to be induced and have the baby as soon as the pitocin went to work. The first option included the risk of infection and being monitored for up to a few days depending on how soon my body decided to expel a dead baby. We chose the latter. And then I realized I hadn't quite given up all hope until now. John was crying. I was crying. I was thinking "I've never seen my husband cry before." And I kept wishing I still hadn't seen it.

To make it worse, we had to call people and *cringe* tell them our terrible news. We called our friends first. We had had dinner plans with them and we called to tell them we wouldn't be making it and why. They immediately came to the hospital to see us. We called our pastor. He and his wife also came. I called my parents down in the Keys. My dad prayed for us and comforted me over the phone. He sounded very sad. He really likes having grandkids.
Every time John and I would manage to dry our tears and regain some composure, another person would find out and call, or come into see us and they'd be crying and we'd start all over again. It was terrible. And wonderful. We realized how many good friends we had up here.

Well, the pitocin kicked in and I went into labor. John and I hadn't started practicing the Bradley method together yet, but we both new the basics and put what we knew into action. I relaxed as much as possible and he held my hand and massaged my back. The midwife told me that my contractions and labor would be the same as if I were giving birth to a full sized baby. The only difference would be the actual pushing part. I had read so much on pregnancy and childbirth that I felt as prepared as I'd ever be.

Somehow, four hours went by. It felt so short! I kept my eyes closed nearly the whole time. I stayed as relaxed as possible and let my body do its thing. As long as John held my hand I felt okay. He left once to try and eat some food they had brought to him, and I felt completely deserted. He abandoned his burger and stayed by my until the end. Somewhere in the recesses of my mind I felt this was a little unfair. I knew he had to eat, but I couldn't let him go. I needed him too badly. I also kept thinking, "wow, I have an amazing husband. How do women give birth without their husbands by their sides?"

I had to pee the whole time and it was really getting ridiculous. The midwife attending me let me try once, but it was in the bed that I was to try and I simply couldn't. I remember her checking to see how dilated I was and telling me it was okay if I wanted to push. Well, I didn't want to push, but I wanted to be done, so I did. He was a breech baby. His tiny body slipped out quickly and then I had to actually work his head out. That was hard. But it was short. I think. I felt so gross having half a baby hanging from my body and working up a sweat to push out his head. Head-first babies seem to have a lot going for them, kept thinking. Then it was over. I had my baby. A boy.

So he was a boy all along. I thought so. Then again, I had a 50/50 chance, so...

There's the facts: He was long and skinny and his skin was wrinkly and kind of see-through. He hadn't developed fat yet. His eyes hadn't finished perfecting yet so his eyelids were still fused shut. His fingers were lanky, one wrist was bent weirdly, like it had been broken during the rough birth. His head seemed much too big. He had some reddish abrasions and there was dried blood on his face. The midwife gave me a warm wet cloth to wipe his skin, but it was so delicate I was afraid to wipe him almost at all.
Then there were my feelings: He's perfect. He's beautiful. He's tiny. He's mine. I love him. The nurses gave him a little yellow preemie hat. We took a lot of pictures of him. We both held him and kissed him. We named him Solomon.

We spent another night there, at the hospital, with our still-born baby in a bassinet beside our bed. The next day we made arrangements for his incredibly small body to be cremated. I was numb after the birth. I had just gone through a very real labor and birth and after I went home, I had no baby to account for it. My womb was empty. My arms were empty. A mother without a child When it sunk in, I cried for a long time. On and off. John and I went home and slept. Friends brought us food, they cleaned our house, they invited us to their homes for dinner. One of the deacons in our church paid for my mom to fly up and be with me. We loved the company. It was better than being alone to think about it and cry. Of course. We did cry, but over the weeks it was less and less. John was an immense comfort. I wouldn't have gotten over it if it weren't for him. But then, like he said "You wouldn't be dealing with this if it weren't for me." True.

In one of my sketchbooks I have the quote by Christina Rossetti "Better by far that you should forget and be happy than remember and be sad." And it's true for me. Of course, one has to allow themselves to grieve, but after a point the grieving doesn't help any more. It's like beating a dead horse. And even the sympathy gets old. I never knew how to respond to it. "Thanks" "I'm sorry too"? I won't forget Solomon, but I can remember him now without sadness at his death and the circumstances surrounding it. (Though I admit to shedding quite a few tears while writing this.)

So, nearly three months later, I feel pretty well recovered. My body is finally healed (though that was quite an ordeal in itself.) One more period from now and I have the doctor's go-ahead to try again. And I'm looking forward to it. I want to try again now. I'm willing to go through it all again for a live baby. Solomon can't be replaced, but he can have siblings.

Here is a link to photos of my first son:
http://s1140.photobucket.com/albums/n580/ChristyClaire/Solomon/
please be warned that while he is a fully human-shaped child, he was a little undeveloped yet, so they might be somewhat disturbing and very sad to the weak of heart.

The Beginning

Almost a year ago, we decided it was time to leave. We being my husband John and I, Christiana. We had been living in Tampa for about two years and were sick and tired of it. Key West was out of the financial question and John never liked the heat of Florida any way. He only put up with it for my dear sake. But now we were married and settled and ready to move on. And on to where would we move? you may ask. Well, New Hampshire of course. John's home state. The state in which we were married (oh right, state of bliss, yes.) I never liked Tampa anyway, it was just cheaper to branch out on one's own than the Florida Keys were. And so we pulled out a map.
"Here, here or here." I said. It looked like a nice area. Close-ish to friends we knew. Close-ish to the seashore, close-ish to John's family. Several good churches were also in the area and a community college. We ended up deciding on Exeter. It's gorgeous. I love it.
It was spring. Almost. It was mid-April, really. The trees were still bare and the grass still yellow, but the air was growing warm (not to my tastes, but to others who had experienced a full fledged winter, it was) (to my Florida skin, it was positively freezing)
Then leaves popped out. And flowers really started to bloom. I was going to love this. And I hadn't even experienced a real full New Hampshire winter yet!
Now 'tis a year later. I had my winter and now the air is growing warm (for real this time) and snow is disappearing. I'm ready for spring with the mindset of one who has seen enough snow and cold for the next three seasons. Last year may have been my first year of experiencing seasons, one by one, spring, summer, the glory of fall and the sparkle of winter. But this year I'll truly be seeing them. Looking forward, knowing what they bring and the way they feel.
And oh BOY am I excited!