Felicity's birth story

This was a long awaited day. That day in June 2014 when those two lines appeared on the pregnancy test seemed an age ago as I awoke the morning of February 12^th2015. 5:15am,I felt a strange sensation; my first thought was “Am I getting my period?” then it dawned on me, that wasn’t a period. I stood quickly and ran to the bathroom; I made it just as a gush of fluid ran out of me. Shocked I shouted to John “My water broke”. We both looked at each other and laughed, out of excitement but also nervousness. It was happening. In true Caton form we hadn’t got around to putting the car seat in the car yet so John got straight on that. He walked back in the house around 6am and we decided to go back to bed. No contractions yet and we were due to see the midwife at 9am anyway. 

After a few short hours I was checked by the midwife who couldn’t confirm if my water had broken and I was sent to the main hospital to check. It had broken and a stress test confirmed that contractions had begun; they were mild and around 20 minutes apart. They sent me home and said come back tonight. That day was a sweet day, John and I talked and ate and enjoyed each other’s company. We had decided before the birth that it would be fun to see how far we could get through the Marvel movies before I would need to go to the hospital; we made it to the end of Iron Man 2. That evening, still with mild contractions we returned to the hospital. All was the same, still early labor and I was sent home again. They told me if I didn’t go into active labor overnight then I would be induced in the morning. 

Several months prior to this day I had written a birth plan for how I wanted Felicity to enter this world. I believed with all my heart that a natural drug free labor was best, I didn’t want to be offered pain relief and I didn’t want to be induced. My main reason for wanting a natural drug free birth was so when I saw her face and she saw mine that the moment was pure, untainted; not drugged and out of it. Not long before her birth I asked my friend Bronwyn Shepherd to be our doula. Many friends spoke of how amazing she was during labor and John and I both agreed we needed the support. Amazingly God provided exactly the money we needed to do this.

As we drove home from the hospital we prayed I would not be induced. Upon arriving home we decided to go to bed. Without a wink of sleep the contractions changed, stronger; not as manageable as they had been all day. 2 hours passed and each contraction got more intense until they were 5 minutes apart and we were on our way back to the hospital. We called Bronwyn and she was meeting us there. 

The contractions grew in intensity as we walked through the hospital to labor and delivery, at one point I stopped to lean on a wall in the ER. I was offered a wheelchair which I stubbornly refused and kept walking. As I entered labor and delivery they took one look at me and put in me in a room. They did a stress test and confirmed contractions were coming fast; lying there still for 20 minutes while they did the test was awful, I wanted to move, change position, something to relieve the pain. Once I was unhooked the labor nurse offered me an exercise ball which upon sitting on I kicked away shouting “No!” The pain was worse on there than in the bed. Just as I felt myself losing it Bronwyn arrived. She helped me focus my breathing and I was back in a strong place again. We decided I should get in the tub and labor in there a while, I did and it was the best decision we made. The warm water helped so much and Bronwyn constantly had the shower head over my belly. We diffused ‘Serenity’ DoTerra essential oil (A smell that we love even today!) and played some worship music. I had moments where I would lose focus and panic and this increased the pain but John and Bronwyn always bought me back to a place of strength. Eventually the sounds of worship and the smell of oil faded into the background and I entered, what I now know, as labor trance. The contractions were a minute or two apart and extremely intense. I would grunt and growl and breathe and then fall asleep, I don’t know how many hours this went on for. Around 5am, after active laboring for 7 hours, the midwife wanted to check how dilated I was. I got up out of the tub and made my way to the bed. As she checked me I just screamed for her to not touch me. She asked me if I wanted to know how dilated I was and I said “No please tell Bronwyn but do not tell me”. At the time I didn’t know why I said that but I know in hindsight it was the right thing to do. I wanted to make decisions based on the messages my body sent me, not on any outside information. I didn’t want to get too excited if I was fully dilated and I didn’t want to be discouraged if I wasn’t. I labored over the back of the bed another 2 hours. I lost focus much more in those 2 hours as exhaustion was setting in. 

At 7am I turned to John and said the word “porcupine”. It was our safety word. It was the message that I was done. I knew my body couldn’t go any further. It was a decision that although I do not regret caused me deep disappointment as I thought back. However I had listened to my body all along, in the moments earlier when I wanted to give up it wouldn’t let me. I had to honor my body and give it rest. In my heart I surrendered the birth plan and the hope of a drug free birth. In my heart I knew it was best; best for me, best for Felicity. It was my first lesson in parenting, letting go of how you want it to be and embracing what it is. I had peace in my heart.

It was a further 45 minutes or so before the epidural was administered. After it kicked in I rested for a few hours. As I awoke I spoke with Bronwyn and she asked me if I wanted to know how dilated I was. I said yes. She said 3cm. My heart sank, 3cm. Most women get there in early labor; I had labored hard for almost 10 hours. The midwife checked me and said I was now fully dilated and the baby was in position; just a few hours of rest were all it took. That peace in my heart was right, following my body’s lead was right and now I was ready to push. After an hour I was given Pitocin to make my contractions stronger so I could get a better push. I rested before pushing for another 2 hours. I have no memory of this but Bronwyn tells me I was cracking jokes the whole time. At 1.09pm I pushed and there she was. This beautiful baby girl was placed on my chest and I was in awe. John had the honor of catching her and cutting the cord. She was perfect and alert and that moment of meeting her was untainted and beautiful. I don’t know how long she was on my chest but I never wanted it to end.

Later I gained some clarity on why I didn’t dilate as most do. Her head was ‘sunny side up’ meaning that despite the strong contractions she wasn't putting the pressure on my cervix so I could dilate. She needed me to rest so she could fix her position. She didn’t fully turn which led to many hours of pushing but she was in the right position to come out eventually, she arrived with eyes open and seeing her Daddy. 

I look back on Felicity's birth with great joy. The labor was empowering, and it showed me what my body was and is capable of. It also taught me to listen to my body and trust my instincts. I don’t look back with regret. I look back and I am thankful.

What has past and what is to come

The thought comes to me every few days; "I should update the blog", then I think of all the time that has past and I wonder where I would even start.
The best place to start is where I left off. So here we go...

John is HEALTHY. Whole. Restored. I pray often that I would not take that miracle for granted.
We have a daughter, a beautiful, vibrant bundle of energy. Her name is Felicity and her story deserves her very own post.

We still have the incredible privilege of serving with YWAM Boston Inc. 9 years collectively of living by faith and seeing God do amazing things in Boston.

I (Amanda) continue to wrestle my thoughts about writing a book about our medical journey. I know it's in there, the words locked inside my heart and mind- pray they can  be released onto paper.

John is BUSY. In school 4 nights a week studying for his Pre-med qualifications. Yes you read that right, pre-med. And that in itself deserves it's own post.

I am excited to get back into blogging and sharing more about our lives and I hope you enjoy reading. Felicity's story coming soon...

Post Surgery

We are no stranger to the Brigham hospital in the morning. Thursday we packed up for what we both hope and pray is John's last surgery. They were running late so he didn't end up being taken to the OR till 11.30am. I kissed him goodbye and went to wait. The surgeon said 4 hours but I knew better than to set my mind there, always best to mentally prepare for 2 hours longer than whatever time you are told. I felt very peaceful while I waited and thankfully my friend Jessi took me out for a little bit of that time to get my mind off it.

Around 5 hours later the surgeon called me to tell me it went perfectly, just like they had hoped. Phew. That was good news. The next day he was coming home. He has been slow on his feet but is recovering well. He has fought a few low fevers which we think were due to the sinus infection he has had. All in all very little to report and that, my friends is how I hope it will stay :)

 I (Amanda) have also began once again to work on a book about John and I's journey these last years. My sister who is an editor is helping me (http://lockwoodelizabeth.wordpress.com/)
My hope is to finish in 2014! :) I know God wants to use our story to encourage many others.

Thank you so much for all your prayers, love and support.

God's Promise

I have spent a lot of time these last weeks wondering how to word this blog entry. The words just wouldn't come. They still won't and yet I know I must put pen to paper, in the electronic sense. John has another surgery this month. And we need prayer. Sometimes I am so fooled into thinking people must think were a broken record but I know that's not true. That there are many out there who care about us and want to pray with us. That we do not and have never walked this alone. Boy am I pleased about that. To give you some history. They discovered a problem with John's iliac artery 8 years ago during a routine scan. 2 aneurysms. Both small, one already clotted off so no problem. Every year since they have scanned and no change until December of last year. As always after John's appointment I spy on his results on his online account, I often know before the doctor; got quite good at reading them too. I guess I am a seasoned carer. I went to read his report from the scan expecting the same old write up, I am sure they copy and paste. But this time I was stopped in my tracks. Frozen by the words. The aneurysm had grown, it had grown a lot, almost double. From the depths of heart I felt the rising "Oh no" that I know so well. I called John in and I just cried. It wasn't just that, with each new challenge the pain of the previous rises up. In many ways I am stronger because of what I have walked through but in many others ways I am weaker. And in that moment I was weak. I still am. A few days later John is sitting with the surgeon planning the date. The surgeon had grace and let us travel to the UK for Christmas. I met the surgeon today at John's pre op appointments. He is a good man, kind and soft spoken. He also has an excellent reputation- that combination makes a great doctor. He told me all about the operation, really quite simple in comparison to what we have been through and recovery seems fairly easy and not too long. He told me the truth, that the aneurysm is basically a ticking time bomb, that if it were to rupture John would die, probably before we could get him to the hospital. That's a sobering statement. The 23rd cannot come soon enough for me. Friends would you once again pray for us. Throughout this new trial I remember God's promise to us that he would heal John completely. It wouldn't be complete unless this was fixed and God always keeps his promises.

Thoughts from a New American- A Reflection on my Citizenship Journey

I laid out all my red, white and blue clothing on my bed that morning in October 2013 and considered "What would I wear on this long anticipated day?". I wanted to show the world how proud I was to be become an American. I smiled all morning considering the implications of what was about to happen. I have always been in love with the idea of America. I grew up hearing my parents tell me of their adventures on the west coast and my curiosity was peaked. Even at that young age I imagined one day I would go there. I was totally taken in with the American dream, the idea that you could do and be anything you wanted. I would become transfixed with the images of big cities in the movies, thinking they must be magical places. But it wasn't those things that eventually captured my heart. When I first landed in the states, a little dazed from jet lag, I was greeted by a lady who would become my dear friend, Debi. She had taken out her best tea set and greeted me with a cup of tea and a smile. As we sipped she showed me photos of her family. I was a little taken a back that she was so open with me having just met me but as she told me stories my nerves eased and I began to relax. I don't think anyone had ever welcomed me like that in my whole life. As the years went on my friendships grew and I was able to travel around different states. With each new meeting that same hospitality and openness met me. Americans know hospitality. They are the kindest people I have ever met. But even this was not the most impacting thing. It is their love for their country that captured me. Their pride in their land. I used to think it was fake and wishy washy and I was almost irritated by their patriotism, I mistook it for arrogance. "What makes them think their the greatest country in the world?" But can I be honest? In my opinion it is. America is different. America is revolutionary. It truly is, in my humble opinion, the greatest nation in the world. Any why? The answer is their foundation. They are formed out of resilience, from a dogged determination to have freedom. The people who left England to form this nation did so to be free, they were truly the rebels of the day. And their spirit lives on in the heart of this country today. The heart to fight for freedom and equality and for rights endowed to us by God. One read through the constitution and you see the beautiful formation of this land; it's such a progressive work- establishing God as sovereign and fighting for human freedom as our God given right. Nowadays some may say the country is slipping away from this but I believe the American spirit will always fight for what is right; even if some stray. So that brisk October day I put on my red, white and blue and read my oath of allegiance, holding back the tears. I was and am proud to be an American. It takes nothing away from my British-ness, I mean why would it? The majority of this nation is made up of a mix. It's the melting pot, I have met very few people who are not a mixture of at least two countries. That's the beauty of America, we're all mutts :)

The journey to citizenship was not an easy one but I am so happy I did it. It's like my heart was always meant to find it's way here. I admit I am hopelessly in love with this nation and the people. America is my home now and although I miss my beautiful England this is where I belong now.

Home for Christmas

Christmas 2007 was my last Christmas in England; the excitement was high, my brother was getting married and I was going to Boston. My parents were seeing a lot of change in the space of a month. I remember saying goodbye to my Mum and Dad at the airport and they were weeping; I thought "why are you crying? I will be home in 6 months!" My parents were smart. They knew, deep in their hearts, that it would be longer. I didn't know that Christmas would be my last with my beloved Father. The last time we would go together Christmas shopping for Mum, the last time I would search high and low for country music albums for my him (they're hard to find in England), the last time we would sing Christmas carols at church together, the last time we would open gifts together. That Christmas haunts me in a wonderful and painful way. Each year since then I have celebrated with my family in Western Pennsylvania, creating new traditions, making precious memories but my heart brims knowing I can go back to my heart land this year. I have wanted for so long to be with my Mum in this special time. But as I ponder on the trip there is an edge to the excitement I feel, a sharp edge. A pain. A grief that I cannot suppress. My family will do what we always used to do; go see the Pantomime (Christmas play), exchange gifts, sing carols and eat yummy food but we will do so with a void; a missing piece. And although I want to pretend it doesn't hurt and I want to breathe back my tears I will not. I will be real. Real pain and real joy. And many of you reading this know this void and I share this for you. Christmas is hard. Really hard. The month of December is always is filled with tears; the first Christmas song I hear brings such strong memories that I have to turn it down. It takes me time to ease into the season. If you are reading this and have lost someone you love you feel this too and it's ok. But this pain is not all there is. When I reflect on Jesus, his birth and the hope he bought and ultimately perfected on the cross then my grief is eclipsed by peace. I suddenly think of heaven and I can almost see it. My dad in the presence of God, more human than ever, cancer free and enjoying eternity with him. And I, as a friend and follower of Jesus, will join him someday. And on that day there will be no more goodbyes. When I remind myself of that truth joy begins to creep into my heart and I begin to reflect not on my dads absence but on all he bought for so long and the future fellowship we have to look forward too. And this hope is not exclusive. It is for you too. Maybe you are reading this and Jesus has never been more than a distant concept but something stirs in your heart as you read this. Then I say today is the day to meet him. Today is the day to let him comfort you. Today is the day of hope. Jesus is real. His presence is real and only he can bring meaning to the loss you feel. He has done it for me and he can do it for you too.

A Dream Becomes Reality

When emotions overwhelm me I have to write. It's the way God wired me. It's the way I process; ponder and pray. Tomorrow is a anticipated day. During the last 4 years of medical craziness a thought began to creep into my mind; normally on the days that seemed without hope; that wouldn't it be nice to get away. I would close my eyes and imagine John and I, health restored just taking a vacation. A marking of a new season, a moment to symbolize the old passing and the new coming in. Just like the changing of the seasons. I began to pray, selfishly I confess, that God would make a way, after all the medical stuff was done, to give us a break. I remember so many days of trial and pain being lightened by talking about that possible future getaway. I remember whispering to John when he was in pain "One day you'll be healthy and we can getaway somewhere warm and celebrate". It bought solace to our darkest hour. How odd that such a small hope could bring light to a dark place. A few months ago, as we were praying John could have his hips replaced a good friend called and said he was sending us a letter and it would arrive tomorrow. The next day I met the mailman at the door and got our letter. As we opened it we saw a check for a quite large sum of money. In the letter they told us they felt God wanted us to have it and mentioned "you guys should take a second honeymoon, you need a vacation". I just began to weep and weep and weep. God, who had already given us so much, gave us even more. We decided on Mexico, Playa Del Carmen to be exact and we leave tomorrow. Tonight the tears have just flowed. I just keep looking at John and saying "It's here, you're healthy, we made it". How good and extravagantly loving is our God. Even today, a day that for my family was devastating for reasons that are not for me share, I am reminded once again that although I do not understand His ways, I know they are good and I know they are loving. And yes He cares about the small things too. Our physical bodies are healed and I know in this next week God will finish the healing of our hearts. Once again, to everyone reading this, we thank you, we love you.