Hope's Birth Story

It’s hard to believe that this time over a year ago I was listening to techno/disco music thinking, “Am I really in labor?” I know, it’s not exactly what one would include in their dream of their perfect labor environment, but a dance party is actually quite common in my house.  This is especially true on cold winter days when the little ones need to expend some energy other than “climbing the walls”, because it turns out that is a literal thing. We had already had a happy due date celebration and continued to wait for our third born child. For me, it was still unreal that I was having another one. With our daughter Hope, I found out that we were expecting her 3 months into my pregnancy and Ian, our second, was only 9 months old. Yeah, you do the math. My husband actually said, “But you don’t get pregnant easily!” Man, did I show him. Ha! The day I found out I was pregnant I was doing quarter mile interval training on a racetrack with my horse to prepare for riding competitively again.  As it turns out, I was going to have one baby in 2017 and one in 2018. I just couldn’t believe it.  As someone who had had 3 miscarriages in one year and thought that I may never have children…I. just. couldn’t. believe. it.  One of the hard parts of having pregnancies so close together is that you’ve just done this, but the benefit is that you’ve just done this.  That night during the dance party when I lay there listening to my children and husband laugh and dance wondering if I was going to have a baby soon…it still had not soaked in. However, I was determined not to have a baby in the car or in some other unexpected place. So I asked a dear friend of mine if her teenage daughter would spend the night in case we needed to go to the birth center. I let my midwife know that I might need her in the next few hours, but I wasn’t sure. You see, I have really long early labors…I mean weeks of it. I’ve been hooked up to machines to check and I really do walk around for 3-4 weeks having true labor contractions and being half-way dilated and effaced. So I ignore it as best as possible and get on with life. And then, wham, it all hits at once and a baby is coming…NOW.  After our friend’s daughter arrived we all went to sleep.  Around midnight I decided I mentally couldn’t sleep through it anymore and into the birth center we went. My greatest fear was making all these sweet people get up in the middle of the night and it not actually being time for me to have a baby. We went back to sleep until 2:30am, I woke up, and at 2:45am my water broke. It was game on, fill up the birthing tub, jump in, and let’s do this. When my water broke I remember saying, “I’m not ready!” Funny how you can know for 6 months that something is going to happen but then still not feel ready. I had an amazing birth with my second, but I was still afraid to do it all over again. It is hard work and there is no guarantee that one birth will be the same as the last. I kept telling myself that though there was fear, my hope was greater than my fear. Now I had an amazing set of midwives and one that especially understood my wishes to have a water birth and to get to deliver my daughter myself.  She also knew how fast things could go since my last birth was 45 minutes. Transition was the part that I wanted “to do better” than my last birth and the part where I had felt out of control.  But as with many things in life, the only way out was to go through it. My midwife looked at me after about 15 minutes in the tub and said, “This is it. This is your moment.” She was right and it took that statement, that call to the very present to remind me and help me focus on my goals. I held my husband’s hand, the calm, brave man that he is. A few pushes later and I brought my daughter up out of the water and held her close. I was laughing, saying, “Thank you, God!” and over and over I said to my daughter, “We did it!” She has been my smallest child at 7lbs14oz and 19inches long. It was 3:13am and we were home before 6am.

What greater gift is there than the gift of life? The gift to breathe, to see, to hear, to feel? I know this is not a popular belief these days, but God has completely changed my heart towards children, to the point where I really don’t care what anyone thinks. When I got and get comments in the grocery store or out in public, like “Do you know where babies come from?” and “You know how to prevent those, right?”, I might give a cheeky or brave response like, “Yeah I do, and it’s fun!” or “Tell me, which one of these kids would you have prevented?”, or my new favorite, “Kids, listen! This person is about to tell us where babies come from!”, but truly I am sad for those who don’t understand the joy of having children. We teach others what we value by what we are willing to sacrifice for. It was hard to tell God, “I trust you” when I thought I would never have children and though it is even harder now, it has been my hope that each day I will say “I trust you”. Each one of our stories is different, as it should be. And I’m not saying we need to all think the same thing and live our lives in the same way, but I do think that for me, claiming to believe in God and in Christ, that there has been no greater love in my life than when I have laid down my life to have these children.  Their births have been the most empowering and incredible experiences of my life.  I consider it a blessing to have co-created something eternal, to have done the hard work to get them here and to have the privilege to raise them.
                                                     

Ian's Birth Story

It’s hard to believe that this time a year ago I was holding my newborn son in my arms. I wanted to share his birth story because when I was pregnant with him I searched and searched for positive birth stories…and ya know what? They’re hard to find.  However, the first two moms that I shared this story with said “I hate you” to my face. Ouch.  So, I’ve taken my time to share it and I only share it with the disclaimer that I don’t think I’m a super birthing machine or that a natural, unmedicated birth is the end-all be-all of birth. That being said I’ve found that I have some really strong believes about what birth can be…it can be powerful, beautiful, calm, peaceful, and one of the most defining moments of your life.  This is where I found myself a year ago, putting my birth where my beliefs are.

I had been having contractions since 37 weeks to the point where I would stop, breathe through them and say “just let me know when you’re serious about this”.  The fact that I was talking to my contractions should tell you a little bit about my state of mind-ha!  An accomplished day included keeping water down, maybe some food, and caring for my 3 year old son, Zeke.  Ian was super low and at “zero station” from the end of the second trimester on.  So I felt like he could arrive at any moment and that’s what I thought was happing at 38 weeks.  As it turns out I was having a kidney stone! Now that is a horror story I will not share and I would actually rather give birth than have another kidney stone! But gratefully my contractions remained constant and though I was dilated at 4cm throughout the whole experience the Doctors, as I ended up having to go to the hospital, felt that Ian wasn’t stressed. We were able to avoid a c-section and go home again.  So, I walked around for another 2 weeks like this. I got so use to strong contractions that I would just breathe for a little bit, get on all fours, whatever, and then get back up and finish dishes, laundry, or whatever I was doing with Zeke. Then my due date came and went.  I’m grateful that I’ve had several friend who have gone past their due date, some to 42 weeks, that passed along some wisdom on patience in that time of waiting.  So, we went out for a “Happy Due Date” dinner.  The next day I went in for my regular chiropractor visit, which had been a huge help to me throughout pregnancy, as I struggle with my hips randomly dislocating, pregnant or not.  As I was driving home I started to have what I would call “a good one”.  The kind where you can’t think about anything else but what’s happening.  This happened several times during the 15 minute drive home.  I called my midwife when I got home and let her know that I thought I’d have the baby sometime that night. Since I already had a 4pm appointment scheduled for that day I cancelled it.  She said she would leave it open for me just in case. I went about my day, doing the normal farm and family routine, stopping to breathe here and there.  Whenever it came time for Zeke’s nap at 1:30 I put in one of my favorite movies and sat on a balance ball.  Any time I thought I was having a contraction, because I still wasn’t sure I knew what they were, I would say “this doesn’t have to hurt”.  Contractions to me are your body doing what it’s supposed to so you can meet your baby.  I had also read several accounts of ecstatic birth and painless birth, which I was going to claim for myself if I could.  Many of these stories were written by non-Christians and I felt like if I claim to know the Prince of Peace as a Christian, then at least I could move forward without fear or fear of pain.  It’s all temporary.  Also, I knew that physically, the more you fight contractions the more painful they are going to be and I thought I must have about 8+ hours of this to go.  Sometime around 2:30pm I called David, my husband, because I started to feel like I didn’t want to be by myself anymore.  When David got home we called the midwives and let them know we were going to come in to at least have them check my progress.  We called our friends that had offered to watch Zeke and went to drop him off.  Then David forgot the directions to our friend’s house!  I sat in the front pointing right or left as I breathed through contractions that were now about 2 minutes apart and feeling more meaningful each time.  Zeke didn’t even have shoes on when David threw him through the door at our friend’s house.  We arrived at the Birth Center at 4pm, my original appointment time and were welcomed by a lot of happy, laughing midwives and nurses.  It was the biggest relief to be there.  It was like having a guaranteed knowledgeable, caring, pep-squad ready to cheer you on through the one of the hardest and best events of your life! I went upstairs to the birthing room I had chosen and the deep tub was already full-yes! This is when David went into action. He brought up our bags, set up my essential oil diffuser with lavender, whipped out my padded yoga map and grabbed a balance ball. He was pretty awesome.  My midwife checked me and said, “You’re at 9cm, want to stay and have a baby?”  I just started laughing! I couldn’t believe that this was finally happening! I was so excited I couldn’t stop laughing and smiling.  I had been able to talk, walk around, function normally, and I hadn’t experienced any pain at all throughout this whole experience.  This just hadn’t been hard enough to be labor.  I got in the tub and just talked to David until I had to breathe.  He held my hand and would look at me.  I don’t remember what he said to me, but I know it was sweet and it was good.  He was there and that was all I needed in that time.  Then things got intense at about 4:30pm and for the first time I felt afraid.  I had this rush of memories from my first birth and every terrible birth story I had ever heard or anyone had ever told me came to life in my mind.  Friends, your words and how you use them are powerful.  Remember that when you talk to pregnant ladies.  So, I started talking to my baby, louder, and louder, and LOUDER. “Please get out, baby!” It was the only thing I could think to say. It just had to be over soon. Then my midwife said that his head had been born.  But then there was a pause and it seemed too long.  So they had me get out of the tub.  Sorry for the mental image here, but I literally climbed out of the deep birthing tub and walked across the room to get on the bed.  David still says, “I don’t know how you did that”.  All I knew is that if that was the best thing for my baby then I was going to do it, no matter what.  It was just a few moments of what felt like rest and then I knew I had come to my end.  I felt done.  It was in that moment that my body did exactly what it was supposed to and Ian was born. And he was just fine.  I don’t even remember pushing.  It was just the best relief and it was surreal.  There he was all 9lbs, 21.5 inches of him! His head at 14.5 inches was over an inch bigger in diameter than the average newborn head size, yet I hadn’t torn or needed an episiotomy.  The first thing that I did was apologize for yelling at him.  Then I told him how glad I was that he was here and that I loved him.  Those moments made every bit of suffering during pregnancy worth it.  Birth wasn’t something that had happened to me this time.  Birth was something that I had DONE, with my baby and with my husband.  He was born at 4:45pm and the last 15 minutes was the hardest work I have ever done in my life.  But let’s be honest, 15 minutes??? Yep, all to bring an eternal soul into the world, a soul that will potentially live and impact the world for the next 80-90 years.  I’d say that’s one heck of a tradeoff.  Some could say I had been in labor since 37 weeks, some for 30 minutes.  Either way, I never would have had time for an epidural if I had wanted one.  I’m so glad that I hadn’t relied on trying to have one.  I felt amazing in my soul and in my body, like I could go run a few miles or go rock climbing. Don’t worry, I didn’t.  We left the birth center before 5:30pm and went home with our new little (big) bundle.  It’s taken longer to have pizzas delivered to our house than it took to delivery our baby.  This birth was one of the most intense, powerful, and redeeming events of my life and I am GRATEFUL that I was able to experience it and was given the precious gift that is my second son, Ian.  For you pregnant ladies out there, I hope that this encourages you.  For those that have had a traumatic birth, it can be redeemed.  Nothing is beyond the healing and love of God.  As someone who had 3 miscarriages in one year and was told I wouldn’t be able to have children, I absolutely believe that.  And to myself, remember what is true about birth, because you’re about to do it all over again in about 5 months J

Cancer, Injury and Attitude

My, isn't perspective everything when riding horses? Two months ago I was frustrated at the level of my riding, the lack of things to jump, and that I wasn't able to make the most of finally having a truck and trailer to use. Then reality hit hard.  Gabe developed lesions around his eyes and I knew they could only mean one thing. The only questions were how far along was the cancer, how quickly would it spread, and how much time did we have together?  So, I called the vet and went for a ride.  No, there weren't any trot sets, bending lines, or counters canter in sight.  It was just a girl and her horse, dangling feet and bareback.  Memories flooded my mind as  tears flooded my face.  My best friend quietly walked on while I was lost in my thoughts.  Until I saw his ears ask me his favorite question...can I run?  Without trotting first?  Was our warm-up complete?  I just didn't care. This was our ride today, not our workout, not our training for some future goal, this was our in the moment, live your life ride.  So, I happily agreed and more memories rushed in...racing through pine tree lined fire-lines on a long-ago lost friend with only wind and spider webs to try and slow us down.  Never again did I think I would find another kindred soul in a mount.  I was wrong and in a starving, emaciated, scared, painted pony I found another love of my life, who would understand my soul and now I was losing him as well.  I hopped off and gave him the usual pat on the neck, the neck that was never clean enough, and a hug, which he pretended to never like if another horse was watching. I then did the only thing I knew to do. I prayed for him, prayed healing over his eye lids, that they would be saved, that the cancer would cease to spread, and that our time together would be sweet. Our vet appointment came and my concerns were confirmed. Since I was already coverning him head to toe in a UV proof sheet and mask there was nothing else I could do until our next appointment three weeks away when he would have a freeze treatment done on his eyelids.  Three weeks of hopeless despair is what I thought at first. Then, our miracle happened.  Slowly, and without treatment the lesions began to get smaller and smaller, while I held back my hope.  The time for our second appointment came.  I tried to wait patiently as he was examined.  "If stuff like this happened all the time I'd be out of business," said the Vet and I unashamedly hugged Gabe's face and cried, because the horse-crazy little girl inside of me had just won back time her best friend.  The cancer was gone.

It has now been two months and Gabe's eyelids look wonderful.  Our training has continued steadily, goals gently held with open hands. A small crack in his front left. Front shoes now. No biggie.  Swelling in his front left leg.  A torn check ligament. Ugh. Three months minimum rest.  Good thing my husband won't let me beat myseld up as I rack my brain on how it happened.  Gabe now takes off his fly mask and hides it to get my attention.  It's like he knows I watch him like a hawk.  While I search for it in the tall grass he follows me asking, "Can we ride now?"  I groom him often, but he's slow to be put back out to pasture.  I can hear him saying, "Is that it?" I love a horse that likes to work.  I tell him to enjoy his summer off and that we'll get back to it when he's better.  I tell him that even if walking is the only thing left for us for the rest of his life, that I will be happy with that and grateful for every day that we have together.

Field of Dreams

It has been a long time since I've taken the time to write and that is for several reasons. First of all I am very convicted that I want to be a "present" mom to my son, so I keep electronic time to a minimum. The last thing I want to see is him mimicking me typing on a laptop or a phone.  Secondly, I now help take care of 3 other children full time...that's 24 hour mom full-time, not 8-5 regular job full-time. Lets just leave it at that.  Thirdly, I started my Masters. I know, cause I didn't have much else to do. And lastly, we've moved! In the fullness of all this it is a luxury to get to sit. and write. and think. think my own thoughts. So here they are.

We've moved onto an 18 acre farm circa 1911. Around the perimeter it's 3 board black, or once black, wooden fencing with cross-fencing and the back portion in wood and American wire or t-posts and American wire with electric across the top (kind of). I'm realizing that a mark of a horse-person is that they begin telling you about the pasture and fencing, not the house.  The pastures could be beautiful, but they've either been neglected and are scattered with weeds and briers or they were over-used with grass barely noticeable and manure being the dominant ground covering. Lets just say that the last person who lived here either had poor husbandry/management skills or they just didn't love this place the way that I already do.  There are several outbuildings and barns, the older ones making more sense in practicality and building techniques. The more recent ones seem pathetic to me standing next to the faded grandeur of the old barns, which were clearly made by skilled craftsmen that took pride in their craft.  "Jimmy-rigged" is how I'd describe the newer ones.  We've actually termed one of them the "Crap Shack". That was as nice as we could be, partially because there use to be pigs kept in it and the flooring is about 5 inches deep in frozen pig poo and the walls are splattered up to my waist in it. Can't wait till the warmth of summer.  They also put insulation in the walls which the birds and mice have found quite agreeable. I've realized even more how our choices can affect others.  Even now I'm reaping the benefits and repercussions of another person's good and poor choices, even though some of those choices were made over 100 years ago. I look at this farm with its beautifully restored 1900 farmhouse and it's fields and barns in need of love and a wonder what kind of impact will I have on it. What will the people who live here 50, 100 years from now think about the choices I made? Will they bring them grief or joy?

I've probably wanted to move back onto a farm since I left one at 18. There's nothing like stepping out in the morning sunrise and hearing your horse(s) whinny at your arrival while your dogs quickly burst at the chance to run in the crisp air.  I love the smell of hay, grain and grass.  I love how it feels to accomplish all your chores, to sweat, to get dirty, to be tired at the end of the day, when sinking into a chair with a cool drink is well-earned. Hence why suburbia just about drove me nuts.  No matter how good of a boarding situation I was in, I always found myself longing for this. Not only because I'm "meticulous" in how I want my horses cared for, but I'd plainly just rather do it myself...an attitude which has sustained me when I've needed it too and has frustrated me beyond belief when I've needed to ask for help. Like when I got my truck and trailer stuck not a week into living here. A slice of humble pie. Then there's having to rely on using someone else's trailer. I've been in so many tight spots because of this and I'm so over it, but trailers are expensive so I'll just have to keep putting up with it.

With all of these nostalgic emotions come the nightmares of my past; the preventable tragic death of my beloved 2 year-old filly, the looming loss of her mother, my first horse love. What if I screw this up too?  I could barely sleep the first few nights after I moved Gabe here because of these very thoughts and memories. It's amazing how the past can haunt you if you let it.

Within these fields I have the opportunity to let the past overrun me. I also have the opportunity to live out some of my dreams and restore parts of my heart that have long sat dormant.  I can slowly feel the fear of failure being replaced with the desire to try, with thoughts of training, jump building, and fence mending. It's like I'm breathing for the first time in years. I've been completely functional this whole time, just not fully myself. I'm ready for this, at least I'm ready to try.

Zeke's Heart

I usually use this blog to tell about the journey that I'm on with Gabe, but today it feels right to tell a bit of the story of my son, Zeke. Just know that during this time, Gabe was happily eating grass in a pasture or being loved and ridden by a wonderful young lady that leased him during this time. That is the picture that I had of him in my mind which allowed me to wholeheartedly give myself to becoming a mom. 

*Let me preface what I am about to say by stating that I wholely believe that one of the reasons that I have suffered in my life has been to be able to love others better who have or are currently going through painful situations and to be an encourager. Sometimes just knowing that someone else had already "made it to the other side" was what kept me going. Also, some of this is graffic, so don't keep reading if you don't want to read about birth or any other real life stuff. * 

Today I took a heart monitor off of my son for what I hope is the last time. I morbidly thought of how much he looked like a suicide bomber with it strapped to his chest with an ace bandage. There seems to be nothing more vulnerable than the unknown well-being of your child. Sitting on the edge of a helpless situation is not my cup of tea. I am a fighter. There's a reason the boys in elementary and middle school called me "Xena" and "Amazon Woman "...poor adolescent boys. Anyways, it is at that very place that I found myself when I was 30 weeks pregnant with Zeke. Before this time I was just so grateful to be pregnant. I had had three miscarriages in the first year of our marriage. "Unofficially" the fertility specialist, after multiple tests, said that the birth control I had taken had destroyed the lining of my uterus. Whether or not we could have children was unknown. The fear and guilt that I had in this time was insurmountable. My husband's one dream in life was to have children and here I potentially ruined it by following modern culture. I never even asked him about birth control. I just went and had an IUD put in, because who wants kids when you're young, poor and still in school. I remember asking him to pick me up from the clinic because I could hardly undouble from the pain. The procedure that was suppose to take 20 minutes had taken over 2 hours and left me crying, curled up in pain for over a day. But I had done it. I had single-handedly "protected" us from children. What a horrible lie. 

At 30 weeks pregnant I sat listening to the heartbeat of our unborn child. The little baby I had thrown up in my muck boot on my way to work for. The little baby that I had quit my job and sold my truck for. The child I had already taken loads of progresterone for, as a precaution against miscarriage. The progesterone which made my all-day/all-night sickness even worse, the injections making my thighs swell to triple their size in revolt. The midwife lingered. Something was wrong. It's in those moments that all the air leaves the room and you forget that breathing is suppose to be an automatic. A routine checkup turned into a visit to the hospital, which turned into not leaving the hospital. My most feared of places on earth. A place of death and suffering. A place of loss and pain. That was not where I wanted to take my child, to be poked and prodded, speculated and theorized over. But there wasn't a choice, so we went and we stayed. Our normal, uncomplicated pregnancy had just become high-risk. Zeke had SVT and his heart was beating at double the normal rate. We stayed in the hospital as multiple doctors tried to figure out how much medication I could handle that would have the desired effect of slowing Zeke's heart down. The best case scenario was that slowing his heart down would not only allow him proper oxygenation but potentially would allow his heart to heal. Doctors get concerned when a baby's heart rate stays elevated for 24 hours. Zeke's had been double the norm for over a week. The major concern was that his heart would just stop. I was put on continuous fetal monitoring.  I lay there listening to his heart beat, praying it would slow but not stop, praying against an emergency c-section and having a premature baby, and praying that my heart could withstand however much medication Zeke needed. Having a normal pregnancy taken from you feels so unfair. It was during that time when I was laying there feeling my own heart slow that I thought about the people in my life. Those who were loving us well, that knew what was going on and actually cared. I thought of those friends that had been lost along the way, those that gave up caring about us. Then there were the strangers that became friends. The amazing nurses. I thought about my past sins, of how undeserving I was to even be pregnant at all. Years of misusing sex, being sexually abused and assaulted, and using morning after pills (all before meeting and marrying my husband) still tormented my soul. Who was I to deserve something so precious and pure as a baby? Maybe this was justice? Or punishment? If you didn't know this about me then you wouldn't understand why I feel so strongly about motherhood and that it is a GIFT. Children are a GIFT. I felt this when my sister visited with my nieces. It was as if tangible joy walked in the room, covered in pink tutus and ribbons. My sweet sister brought lotion to rub my feet and as she did one on my nieces, who was about 3 years old and being unprompted, did the same and began to rub my swollen feet and ankles. Have you ever been served by a three year old? It's humbling. It's pure. And I was absolutely undeserving of it. It was a tangible reminder that though I didn't deserve love that God was going to love me anyways.  In came PEACE. Ten days later we went home.  I spent the rest of the pregnancy way drugged on heart medication. When I went to fill my prescription the Pharmacist wanted to personally call the Cardiologist to makes sure there wasn't a mistake on the dosage. It was three times the normal amount. Then came delivery. We had been told that if we could have Zeke vaginally that there was a high chance of his SVT being corrected and him not having to go into the NICU. In my heart I was determined to do everything possible to make that happen. Then the concerns started to come from the doctors. He's too big. His torso and stomach are larger than normal. Induction at 38 weeks. I refused. Induction at 39 weeks. Please just let me wait. Why are you guys trying to rush this? My body was made to do this. Why do I have to convince you of this? I am not a statistic and they do not soothe a pregnant mama's mind. Finally I consented to an induction at 39 weeks 4 days. It was my husband that had peace about it, not me, but I trust my husband. After 24 hours of induction and labor I finally asked for an epidural. I hated oxytocin/pit before labor and I hate it to this day. I had reached the point of being consumed by pain and knew that I could not do it on my own any more. I felt defeated. Defeated by modern medicine and longing for "regular pain". It's hard when your birth plan goes exactly the opposite of how you want it to. But I was still avoiding a c-section. Another 10 hours of contractions and strange sleep. Numbness. One large strange blow-up peanut. At one point one of my legs fell off the bed/table. I had to call the nurse to put it back on for me. Thank you. Then it was time. Because I was "doing so well", the intern let the midwifes continue my labor. Shift change came right before pushing time. In walked my favorite midwife. Thank you, Jesus. Only a few pushed they told me, any minute now. Two hours later my son was born. But it was silent. As he lay across my stomach my first words to him were, "You need to breathe now, ok? I love you." Those were the longest moments as I watched from the table and no one said a word. I went from everyone pushing and pulling and cutting to one person left cleaning up the mess.  And there was no comfort for me until I heard that sound. It's the sweetest sound I've ever heard. His cry. The cry of my son. He's breathing. He's living. I could've happily died in that moment. But I didn't. The sweetest gift was placed in my arms, in my protection, in my trust and in my love. The midwife stayed on to help teach me how to nurse him and to monitor him so he wouldn't have to go to the NICU. Little do they know they would've had to knock me unconscious to take him from me. Luckily no one had to experience that. The next few days were full of immense pain and immense joy. Our little guy was strong. His heart was strong. Weeks and and months of checkups and Cardiologist visits have come and gone. A year has past.  They still can not find anything wrong. The last 24 hour halter will be our last test. If all goes well, never again will I have to strap a heart monitor to my child's chest. We can just enjoy Zeke's LIFE and be grateful for the lesson I learned before he was even born; that he is an undeserved gift from God. 

Winter to Spring

This past winter and subsequent spring have been full of adjustments, not only for me and my family, but for Gabe as well. I'm sure he thought I had dropped him in the frozen tundra when he first arrived. We learned about pipes freezing and "snowball high-heels" that have horrible traction on grass. If you ever desire to find out what it feels like to ride an ice-skating horse, then go for it, but once was enough for me. I've seen even more how important it is for Gabe to have a job and finding that balance between mental and physical challenges. Preparedness is what I focus on with him. I've set very specific goals for this year, though they are small in my eyes and in the grand scheme of my equestrian hopes. I've come to find that most horses are physically capable of lower level eventing. Let's face it, it's not until the upper levels that physical capability really begins to separate the herd. It is the mental acuity and adaptation that I find to be the challenge in lower levels and yet that is what I find lacking in the upper levels (as an observer and hopeful). It's the staying calm when in unusual or new situations, it's being a responsive listener and following your person, and it's making up for that person when they get things wrong. These are all things learned at the most basic level and yet they are so commonly neglected. I'm a highly critical person of no one but myself, but an acute observer of others. As my horse becomes an extension of me he many times gets put into the scope of my critical sight. For the majority of my riding life I have not know how to handle this and I've rarely met a trainer that did. The advice was abusive or dismissive. I have followed both paths and been equally discontent. It has been until now that I am secure and confident enough to discover this for myself and my horse. Thank God for a patient horse, a supportive husband and one really easy-going baby. The courage I have gained to seek this out has come from being a mom. Not only am I the example to hopefully another generation of equestrians, but I am also an unintentional ambassador for the "riding moms club". I meet many a young girl who looks at me with fear or anxiety when they see I have a kid. How do I do it? Why do you do it? It's the same answer I gave my hairdresser when she asked why I hadn't chopped of all my hair like the other moms. My answer is this: this is how I like it and my child is not an excuse or a copout to do the things in life that take effort. Even more so it is the reason that spurs me on. How I would hate for my son to grow up and realize that he was a scapegoat for not pursuing my dreams? I had one upper-level eventer say to me," I guess now you'll only ride safe horses since you are a mom." First of all, no horse is really  "safe". Some are riskier than others, but you are unsafe the moment you step through the pasture gate. Secondly, I love developing young horses. I love helping them find what they are good at and have potential for and matching them with that person that loves it as well. What a happy existence those partnerships bring! This is something I have loved for a long time and it has poured into every area of my life. From elementary school age I loved rehoming strays; cats, dogs, birds, you name it. I'd do it with people to if I could. Maybe adoption is I our future😊 I love the healing and redemption that comes through being in the wrong situation and seeing it made right, then there being hope, love and joy in and from that. Yep, throw in some adventure and I'm a happy girl. So, no, I will not just ride "safe" horse the rest of my life. How could I fulfill those desires doing that? Now there is a time and a place for risk management, but I will discover that along the way. 

So, please, ladies out there with kiddos, don't give up on your dreams no matter what it is. Be the first example your child has of being a dreamer and a fullfiller. Show them what hard work and determination look like. Know that you are an example of motherhood and you have the ability to affect generations. Now that is powerful. You will affect future generations positively or negatively, but you will affect it and people's perception of motherhood. For those without kiddos, don't look at me with pitty like my life is over. I have accomplished the most challenging event in my life in having a kid and my son is the most powerful motivator I have ever had. Sure my body is in constant transition and the majority of my time and energy is given to someone that can't even walk or talk. But one day he will.  And he will go into the world with the influence I have placed on him. So no, my life is not over. It has just been hugely challenged and enriched. And I would wish it for anyone that is brave enough for the challenge and wants to see a miracle come to life and feel the humility and joy of motherhood. For you mamas who have taken a break from riding-it's ok. It's not going anywhere and you can always come back to it. Sometimes we have seasons in life where it just doesn't work out; whether it's our body, time, money, anything. That time can still be used to better you as a horse person and you never know what your horse could do for someone else. Some of my best and most influential horse experiences have come from someone else's horse that they weren't able to ride. Plus, if it matters that much to you then you will find a way to make it work in whatever capacity that may be. And if horses are a way of life and not a hobby for you then don't worry about it. It'll happen. As my favorite horsey-Aunt use to say,"Leah, the reason your good with horses is that your more stubborn than they are"! That couldn't be more true. I personally am too stubborn to ever not have horses in my life...I hope that for you too! 

As far as what Gabe and I are working on-we're breaking bad habits. I've found that I raise my reins right before I ask for an increase in speed. I'm sure you can see how that could become an undesirable cue. Gabe also likes to walk off the second my butt hits the saddle...ugh bad manners. He also loves to gallop every hill he sees and when I don't allow it he likes to throw his head up, evade contact and trot or canter in place. So, what did we do? We went back to boring for a while, which was easy in the snow. We walked up and down the hilly drive until I thought he was going to start dragging his nose between his legs. Well, not really, but you get the point. It was only then, after a few weeks of walking that I allowed him to trot. And then we did a lot of downward transitions. I've now started to ask for canter sets, which have been more like gallop sets, but he was fighting me so badly that I pulled from a tactic that I rarely use: wear him out. I only will do this  if it's going to mentally benefit the horse. I'm not about running a horse into the ground. But he was telling me he wanted more. Here was the key: I decided when it started, when it stopped, and for how long. In that way I was listening to his wants but they were being done within my parameters. I use to do this with young horses that liked to run backwards when they got confused or were refusing to listen. I would switch to asking them to backup the second they used that as an evasive maneuver and I would ask them to do it a lot longer than they had originally intended. It switched their mind from being unsure or obstinate to thinking that they were doing something you asked them to do. In this case with Gabe I realized it was time to challenge both his body and his mind. We did two 5 minute gallop sets on hills with 5 minute breaks between. I gave him a day off and then the next day I did a small jump set with him and then walked for 30 minutes. He was still sore and tired from our gallop sets. Two days later and he was back to normal but much more responsive and respectful of our speed. The other thing I have been working on with him is using draw reins. I've used them before when doing breaking and training 3 and 4 year olds or retraining OTBs, but I was highly reluctant to use them as I have seen them misused so harshly. I finally decided that it would help me communicate better with Gabe and that it was a tool and an aide, not a crutch or a weapon. Our first ride with the draw reins was wonderful. Gabe was more balanced and I was able to be more balanced and in control because of it. Gabe got a much better workout and I was able to better ask of him what I wanted. Let me state that I am super careful with my horses mouth. I can't stand seeing unknowledgable hands ruining a horses mouth. I think most riders should learn how to ride with just a halter with reins and bareback(with a bareback pad for some security😊). I know, it sounds harsh, but I think many bad habits could be prevented if people started this way.  Anyways, Gabe and I are increasing our endurance and stamina and trying to do it properly. We'll interval train once a week, jump at least once week, and do our dressage tests 2-3 times a week in as many different locations as we can find. Since our dressage is my weakness, that is what we will focus on for me and getting Gabe fit will be my goal for him. I'm hoping to start lessons in the next few weeks and then hopefully a few dressage shows. Once I feel like we're proficient in that then we'll up our jump game and get to the fun stuff! 

My last thought is on Rolex. I'm excited that the roster has so many top-notch  names and many first or second timers. I'm sad to not be there, soaking up the atmosphere and trekking those beautiful hills of Kentucky. I'm also a bit crestfallen as I could've been there this year as part of a team, an opportunity I turned down. I'm crazy, right?!? I followed my gut on that decision and I'm doing my best not to regret it. I will be studying each horse and rider pair from my couch, grateful that USEF Network covers the event or then I'd definitely cry lol. Best of luck to all the riders and I hope the U.S. represents well this year!

Moving Gabe & Recent Learnings

Gabe is here! It was something that seemed so far away even until the day before I went to pick him up. Once I had that trailer behind the truck, it set in. I was really going to pick up my horse. My whole "family" was going to be together again. It had been 9+ months since I had leased him and almost 3 months since I had last seen him. The time in between was an emotional roller coaster. I had the great opportunity to volunteer at a 4* barn while trying to figure out how and when to move Gabe from SC to VA. As it turns out, most people, professional horse-people or not, don't want to make a 20+ hour trip to move one horse. Man, it was frustrating. I felt so stuck. Not having a truck was the worst part. It's one thing to need a trailer, but a whole rig? You must be joking. In the end and to my great relief, my Dad offered to let me use his truck and I was able to find a trailer company that would lease a trailer out to me. And it would all cost a heck of a lot less than having him shipped. Originally I was going to make the trip by myself, with Zeke of course (my 5 month old). However, a day or so before the trip my Dad offered to come along. *Sigh of relief*. As I told him, I'm stubborn enough I could've done it by myself but not so stubborn that I wouldn't accept his help. He had to make the trip up and back again by himself...then an additional 16+ to move Gabe. In total he drove close to 40 hours in the span of just a few days. I will never be able to thank him enough for helping me at a time when I needed it the most and no one else could or would. He was an absolute rock, driving most of the way and trying to keep me calm. Turns out I've picked up some worrying habits. There's a fine line between smothering and mothering and a horse needs neither. I know these things, but gosh it's hard to NOT do them. All things considered, the trip went great! We arrived at the new barn and snuggled Gabe into his stall for the night. I felt like I could finally take a nice, deep breath. 

The next few days were rough to be honest. He had handled the trip so well. He was eating, drinking, pooping, but he was 3-legged lame. He could barely walk and was falling out of his stall. Luckily it was just that he had been trimmed too short on one hoof before I had picked him up. Within a few days I had a farrier out, shoes on and problem solved. But those few days of him being immobile ended up being sweet. They were a reminder of how we first met. Reminder that he still needed me. Reminder that I wasn't just owner and rider, but friend. It turned out to be a great way to start things back up, by just loving on him, soaking his hoof and brushing him. I'm sure if he would've been rideable after I had just come from a 4* barn that I would've completely started back in the wrong way...being so excited to try all the new things I've learned and push our limits. Thank goodness he was lame. We've now started back slowly, snow permitting. I stretch him out...carrot or currently leftover candy cane stretches are awesome! I'm also integrating some bodywork techniques. Not only does it help him relax, but it reminds me of how responsive a horse' skin is. I think many times as riders and horse people we use way too much strength in our touch. Just because it's a powerful animal does not mean we must meet it with superior strength. We will lose every time and miss out on an amazing connection. You also send your horse into a "blocking" state of mind, where you give them no choice but to shut you out. I always like to start out with the gentlest touch possible and use more if I need it. But that is because I want a highly responsive, "conversational" horse. It's not for everyone. Also, my goal with every horse I own is to ride bridle-less and saddle-less. If that doesn't change your foundational work then nothing will. We've come to a really sweet place. I'm ready to set some goals and review everything we know. My biggest challenge has been actually doing what I know. My hope is that it will become second nature and that I won't even have to think about it, but just respond. I must also say that I'm grateful for the look that I got into the 4* world, for the people I met, friends I made and horses I worked with. It made me incredibly grateful for my horse and helped me see how right we are for each other. Even if I had unlimited funds and could choose any horse in the world I would still pick Gabe. I've also realized how set I am in my foundation as a horsewoman and if something doesn't align with my core principles then I'm ok disagreeing or walking away. Nothing is too temping to compromise on that. I've also seen that there are many great horse-people that will never make it to the top. They've done everything right but it's just a "no go". It's a hard road to the top and to some it's not worth it. My hope is that those that try never forget why they began. That they don't forget their first ride, their first touch of a horse' soft nose and tickling whiskers, the conflicting sweet and sours smells of a barn, that the softest spot on a horse is right behind their elbow, that you can, if you open yourself up, you will find no greater or sweeter friend on this earth than a horse.