Please Lord help us. The roar that those are creating about legalizing gay marriage and how torn our nation is right now scare me. Please help those that are lost to see your love, and your light. I know that there can be no light without darkness, but the darkness seems to encase those lost in its claws. Then they too become the darkness. Please help us Lord.
The more dark the darkness, the lighter the light.
This popped up in my newsfeed today:
If you are going to be brash enough to post this, you are asking to open the flood gates of criticism.
First I would like to point out that there is hardly ever a singular meaning of marriage in the bible.
Want some of the examples of what the Bible defines as marriage?
- An arranged marriage—Genesis 24:1-4 (and many other passages)
- A levirate marriage (If a man died leaving no male heir, his brother was required to marry his widow and produce children)—Deuteronomy 25:5-10
- A polygamous marriage—1 Kings 11:3 (and many, many other passages)
- Not inter-racial—Deuteronomy 7:14; 1 Corinthians 7:39; 2 Corinthians 6:14
- Filled with sexual prohibitions—no intercourse during menstruation (The woman is unclean. Yet another degradation of women.) —The woman cannot withhold sex from her husband; she has to fulfill his desire for sex when he wants it. (And another example of the Bible’s misogyny)
- Not allowed to be dissolved, i.e. NO DIVORCE—Matthew 5:31-32; Mark 10:2-12; Luke 16:18
- Except when the man wanted to because his wife had become ‘displeasing’ to him—Deuteronomy 24:1-4
- Between a rapist and his victim—Deuteronomy 22:28-29
- An arranged marriage by a slave owner for his slaves—Genesis 24:4
- Can be between brother and sister
-Intended to solely to produce children—Without children a woman was:
Shamed—a barren woman was looked upon as cursed by God
Unable to be saved—1 Timothy 2:15
Seriously I could go on and on. And never ever does is say that marriage should be between a man and a woman only. EVER.
Secondly, I would just like to kindly point out that the Bible itself was written around 500 hundred years after Christ's death. Upon writing it the "authors" took the gospels and picked carefully those that would be included and those that would be discarded. Those that were kept were edited and made to mirror the image that they deemed appropriate at that time.
As far as the laws of God? Who are we to decide what laws God has made for us. I know that you are probably reading this going Dan, the Ten Commandments? Don't fret, I haven't forgotten those and in the Ten Commandments I never saw once THOU SHALT NOT MARRY THE SAME SEX EVER. In fact I am pretty sure the whole set of commandments is based on respect. Respect of God, respect of your lover, respect of your peers.
I am not here to try to change your mind and tell you that your conservative views are inferior to my liberal ones but I would like for you to please think before you tell me that Jesus or God does not condone this movement. This is a movement of love, a movement for equality, this is a movement to break ties that create hate. The son of God I feel in my life, smiles at this movement. He is a man of love, mercy, patience and forgiveness. Or is it perhaps we do not know that same God and His son?
I go home when David deploys for long time periods. I always
have a ready excuse like the first time he went off I was VERY pregnant with
Pancake and decided I really needed the help and it was too much to ask my mom
and sister to come out to me. So I swallowed my pride and took my seasoned
flyer Scoop, off with me to my hometown. There we waited for a baby to be born
and then for Papa to head back to the States. This time I chose to come home
because my niece was just born. I wanted to be a big part of her life, I wanted
to be there to help me sister navigate her way through this tough labyrinth we
call motherhood.
But really those reasons, good as they are, are not the
reason I chose to come back to this tiny hometown. It is always and forever
going to be that I miss my family while I am gone. The fact that I can grab my
babies and walk ten minutes to my sisters house/wake up and have coffee with my
mom/go to yoga with my Dad/hang out with David’s parents and anything else that
involves having family so close by seems to beat the perks of having my own
house and privacy in Virginia.
My sister, and I have always had this relationship that was
more than just a sibling love. Alex is my best friend; she is the first person
I call when I am frustrated or joyous. Add to that the connection we share with
our mother means that being separated by many states is tough. It’s nearly as
tough as it is to be separated from my husband during these deployments.
And now I face the decision of going home to Virginia to
meet my husband at homecoming or staying here and patiently waiting for him to
join us here. The time span between the two times of seeing him again are
really only a few days, but the kicker is that if we decide to go home to
Virginia to be at homecoming we miss about of month of being in the hometown
with family. The reason being is that if I fly back with the babies we cross
over not one, but two time zones and they need time to adjust to that, along
with everything else. And remember how I said David would be joining us here in
hometown soon after homecoming? Okay well that trip to the hometown is pretty
much a sure thing, whether we fly out as a family together or meet him here.
Last time we did fly back and meet David. Homecoming was a
little different though it was when he got to meet Pancake for the first time.
Days after he got back we packed up and head to hometown for leave. This time
there is not a son that he hasn’t met yet, just a family that is lonely without
the Papa.
So Option A: Fly back to Virginia a month before David gets
home, let babies adjust, meet Papa at homecoming, get a few days as a family,
then turn around and head back to hometown for a couple weeks to turn around
and come back to Virginia. It sounds… exhausting. But seeing David right as he
comes home and then sharing those moments privately with only with our children
sounds so worth it.
Option B: Wait in hometown with my beloved family for an
extra month until Papa arrives on leave a few days after he gets into The
States, share the first moments with everyone, spend leave in hometown with
family, fly back to Virginia together. This sounds…anxious. But not having to
put my children on an airplane and change scenery three times sounds much more
beneficial for them.
Needless to say I am lost and I am lonely. I want so
desperately to throw caution to the wind (and our money, damn airfare prices!)
and hop on a plane. Meet David and have those moments with our family
privately. Its not that I think our family doesn’t miss him the way I do, or
shouldn’t be apart of this homecoming, but there is something about being there
waiting that tugs at my heart.
*Because I hoped to keep the grieving family anonymous names are changed.*
I started the other morning as I usually do, between two sleeping babies. And because they got the memo it was Saturday and you sleep in on those days, I was awake scrolling through emails and social networks earlier than usual. In my attempts to keep my boys asleep by staying in bed and myself distracted I stumbled upon a very sad story.
A grandfather was asking for prayers and thoughts in his family's time of need his new grandson was in the hospital hemorrhaging. The source of his uncontrollable bleeding? His circumcision wound.
After the doctor removed his foreskin from his penis B's blood loss became an immense amount and no amount of platelets, clotting agents, or plasma would help. B soon started to seize and was still losing blood, his kidneys and liver began to fail. After two days of attempts to stabilize B, he died. It was later found that he was hemophiliac, and after his circumcision his body was unable to clot blood to stop the bleeding from the wound.
I shed silent tears for this family and squeezed my babies tight. I was caught in a whirlwind of emotions. My anger was boiling my blood. B had just joined the statistics of "risks" for circumcision, death being one of them. Over one hundred baby boys die from circumcision in America each year. A cosmetic surgery that is elective was the source of this and many other newborns death. I'm sure that the hospital will note that the cause of death as hemorrhaging of a hemophiliac. And the compensation that the hospital gave the family? They will pay for his funeral services. No amount of money will heal that mother's heart of the loss of her newborn.
My anger was cooled only by my sadness. The family and their grief, was ground shattering in my world. I wanted to hold that mother and tell her how sorry I was that she lost her baby boy. I wished that I could reverse time and do what the doctor should have done and warn the family about the real risk of circumcision. I wished I could have been there to at least encourage them to wait and let their son decide if he wanted to be circumcised.
But shock was the biggest emotion I was flooded with. After reading some of the comments on the report of his death, and the attack that this family was receiving while they were grieving was immense. People have no shame in claiming these parents were too ignorant and ignored the facts of circumcision. I wanted to scream at these people to show some respect and let them grieve. To stop pointing fingers and instead use that energy to educate other parents about the true risks of circumcision.
I cried and said a silent prayer and plea to please help this family through the pain and suffering they were facing. I also might have commented that those ignorantly pointing fingers had no right to do so, and made the rest of us normal intactivist look as crazy as they were acting.
But because that is what I am, an intactivist, I felt like this story and others like it should be shared (with respect) to help shed light on the real risks of circumcision. And more so than that please do not revere circumcision as a simple surgical procedure as many people and doctors do. It is a traumatic and invasive procedure. One that shouldn't be done on infants fragile bodies; especially those with heart conditions, traumatic or premature births, and any other compromising conditions.
If you or someone you know is thinking about circumcision, please consider this. It is something that cannot be undone once done. Leave the choice to your son. After all it is his body, and his choice what to do so with it.
For more information on infant circumcision please feel free to visit drmomma.org, savingsons.org, or www.WHOLEnetwork.org three of my favorite sites for accurate information on circumcision and intact boys.
When I had Theo I feel like I was a completely different person from when I had Max. Not only
was I just beginning my journey as a mother I also was beginning my journey into a passion I would hold for the rest of my life.
30 weeks
38 weeks
I spent my whole pregnancy educating myself about natrual labor, pregnancy, and immediate postpartum. After that I was pretty clueless. But here is the funny part I didn't know how clueless I was. I was the typical first time parent that knew what was coming and had done some serious time researching but still had no idea. Now understand that I knew we were delivering a baby boy and that we were no way in hell circumcising him. I also knew that we would be breastfeeding, that I probably wasn't going to be getting much sleep, or really doing anything that wasn't baby related. But after that really it was all just experience and learning on the fly.
The last prenatal appointment I had with my midwife was a week before my due date and the last day I was pregnant. My midwife had asked, "How are you feeling"? I remember smiling and speaking words I wasn't aware I was going to say. "Ready, I want to meet him and see his little face."
When she left the house David asked if I wanted to go off roading with him. At the time we were living with my mom and the house was out in the middle of the desert. The perfect place to put his new off road vehicle to good use. (In hindsight, off roading isn't something that I would recommend for anyone pregnant).We spent the better part of 4 hours climbing impossibly steep mesas and winding our way through sugar sand the wind had blown in. We blasted Incubus with the windows rolled down. We were the vision of carefree. I remember watching the sun set fire to the sky and thinking how happy I was in the moment.
The rest of the evening was spent hanging a sheet for taking pictures and watching a theater movie with ice cream bowl balanced on my belly. David and I crawled into bed exhausted, and as he wrapped his arms arounds me he asked, "What do you think is tonight the night?" Theo stretched inside me and we both watched as he pulled my skin tightly waving his arms and legs getting confortable. "Maybe. He does seem tight in there."
Later, somewhere between sleep and awake I found myself praying. In that moment I saw how blessed I was. With a boyfriend that cared about me and our son, a family that supported us, and a healthy baby with a stellar pregnancy; what more could I ask for. Peace was what I found in those moments of foggy minded clarity.
I was woken early morning by the start of early labor. Laying in bed I let the reality of what was happening wash over me. I was having a baby very soon. Deep breath, I was having a baby very soon. KEEP BREATHING. Oh my goodness I was in labor to deliver my baby boy. KEEP BREATHING! After about an hour of coming to terms with what was happening, I couldn't take it anymore. I had to wake up David. I needed to share this with someone.
I consider that the comic relief of my early labor. It took me going from gentle shaking to yelling and throwing a pillow at David's face to wake him up. And once he finally was conscious he sleepily asked if I was sure. Bless his heart, I know it was just his version of coming to terms with reality like I just had but I still almost ripped his face off. Instead I walked away to get my phone and called my midwife letting him know what I was doing.
I walked back to find that he had grabbed our birth manual from under the bed and was furiously flipping through the pages and spouting off the procedural questions.
"How far apart are your contraction?"
"Have you lost your mucous plug?'
"Is the pain in your back and abdomen?"
And from that moment he was my rock, not leaving my side or letting go of my hand. Poor man I don't think ate for twelve hours straight.
By the time the midwife had arrived I was having difficulty speaking through contractions and had woken up the whole house at the early hour of 4 a.m. Which seemed appropriate because I had quickly dilated to 4 centimeters. And as soon as I heard that I immediately asked if I could get in the tub. I was ready for a little comfort and a warm bath was just the ticket. But while trying to get the tub ready and locate all of our birth supplies my contractions had picked up and were coming so quickly I couldn't speak at all. After another check to see how quickly thing were going I had progressed to 6 centimeters in thirty minutes.
So while mayhem broke loose around me I sank into my tub of peace and worked my way through contractions. When we had everything set up and ready for delivery including my inflatable birth tub filled with warm water I switched tubs and David got in with me.
But after many hours of no change in contractions I realized maybe I was doing something wrong. After another cervical check I hadn't moved one tiny centimeter. Too much tub. It was like hitting a brick wall, I was faced with the fact that I would have to do this for longer than I had originally thought. I had to reorganize my thoughts to accept that baby boy was still a while away. Until then I sat down in the shower (I was scared to leave any form of water for long) and cried. The kind of crying where you can't breathe anymore and there is more snot than tears.
My support team still pulled through. David held my hand in the shower with me reminding me that it was all worth it. Alex sat out side the shower door telling me I was strong and so was this baby. My mother sat quietly waiting until I called for her to remind me that she did this too. Twice. Eventually, I worked my brain around the idea of no water and began to walk around to help labor progress further.
This is where my memory of things shifts from what everyone else knows and what I know. I'm pretty sure I was close to being fully dilated and sitting on the bed but other than that I don't remember anything about the physical world. I had slipped into a different realm, one completely in my head. I swirled around in a world where time didn't exist, reliving memories, peeping into the future, and searching for the peace I had just a few hours ago in bed.
Soon, or not so soon, I felt the grasp of my womb working to get a baby out. I let my midwife know, and she gave me the all clear to push. "But wait, the tub, I want to have a water birth." I managed to say. So I wobbled my way to the birth tub, David slid in behind me and I spent almost and hour pushing in several different positions. Until I found that David supporting me was best. "Dani! Can you feel your baby? Reach down, feel his head. He is still in the caul!" The amniotic sack never broke. Until my midwife was trying to show my fingers where to find my baby and it finally ruptured. Oh yes, finally he was close to being here.
Push. Push. Push. Baby boy born. We all just took a few seconds to admire his beautiful face through the water. And I'm pretty sure under the surface there was the surreal feeling of, oh man, there really was a baby in there Going through all of our minds. So we all just stared and let him look peaceful in the water. Until someone said, "Papa, grab your baby. Bring him to Mama's chest."
I felt this heavy wet baby on me and was brought to reality. My baby, blood of my blood, finally in my arms. It all fell into place. Not crying but cooing, he was already talking, and hasn't stopped since.
I looked into his face and whispered, "I am a Mama. I am your Mama."
