Jen Russum

The Day My Husband {almost} Became Harry Potter

The Day My Husband {almost} Became Harry Potter

It's been a while since we've had a crazy Arizona adventure story on the ol' blog. It is time, my friends. So yesterday, as you probably know, was Labor Day. Since there was no actual labor happening {in the childbirth sense, of course}, it was more of a frantically-get-projects-done-around-the-house-before-the-baby-actually-arrives type of day. However, if you've read about the state of my hip lately, I can only handle physically straining tasks in moderation. So after finishing painting a dresser on Monday morning, I had to rest on the couch for a bit to ice my hip and prop up my cankles. True story. I am pathetic. But icing my hip helps so much, and I am walking better than I have in weeks. Meanwhile, my sweet husband headed out to the backyard to tear out some horrible overgrown ivy that sheds into our pool. These are the joys of buying a house that was vacant for over a year before you moved in. I watched through the sliding glass door as Micah wrestled with nasty bug-ridden overgrowth in the sweltering heat, and my main thought was "cleaning the bathroom every week isn't so bad compared to yard work." Amen. Where it all happened... Suddenly though, the weather took a turn. The sunny skies became gray, and I started to hear thunder in the distance. My freshly painted dresser was still sitting outside on the patio, so I called to Micah and we rushed it indoors just as the first raindrops started to fall. After such a sudden expense of energy, I returned to the couch to recuperate, while Micah pulled his tools under the cover of our back patio to wait out the storm. Knowing this crazy desert rain storm would probably pass in a few minutes, Micah sat down on one of our patio chairs to wait it out. However, the rain didn't let up right away as expected, so Micah decided he should come inside, but first he needed to unplug the electric trimmer he had been using. He caught my eye when he got up, and this is what I saw happen next... Micah took a step toward the back wall of our house and reached down to unplug his trimmer. Suddenly there was a sideways flash of lightning that looked like it was directed straight at our house. Instantly, there was the loudest clap of thunder I've ever heard. If the amount of time between the lightning and the thunder is really an indication of how far away the lightning is... then it was most definitely RIGHT ON TOP OF US. Next, I saw my always-fearless, adventurous, manly-man husband nearly jump out of his skin, and then turn hastily for the sliding glass door. Micah ran through the door and yelled "Did I get hit?!" I looked at him dumbfounded, because I seriously could not tell if he had been hit. And here it must be noted that Micah was wearing quite the outfit during this escapade. Imagine, if you will... board shorts on bottom, so he could hop in the pool if the heat got to be too much during his project. But on top, a hoodie, because he was dealing with cutting down the nastiest debris and needed his arms and back covered. On his head, a black cowboy hat, to keep all the -ish out of his eyes. And, to top it off, a painters's mask, to prevent him from inhaling the dust, leaves, and bugs falling out of the sick ivy. And I should probably mention, just so you can get the full picture, he was wearing mismatched sandals. The day before, one of his Reef flip flops purchased three years ago decided to break on the SAME day as a pair of Nike flip flops he has had since high school. Thankfully, the opposite foot of each shoe broke, so he was wearing one of each to finish up his yard work. Needless to say, when he asked me to visually assess his health, all I could see were his startled eyes beneath his hat and above his mask, and so I sat there silent. His next question was "Am I glowing?!"  It turns out that as he reached for the outlet, Micah actually saw a bolt of lightening go into the wall. As in he saw a tiny line of bright light just two inches from his fingertips... and thankfully, he escaped being hit. In other news, random electric outlets all over our house no longer work, including the one in our bathroom that I use to dry and straighten my hair. Good thing I'm 38 weeks pregnant and have really low expectations for my beauty routine right now. And this is what we've learned after this grand adventure... 1) It looks like we got life insurance just in time. We would have paid $10 for our first month and really reaped in the cash if the lightning had zapped him. {This was Micah's joke, not mine. I'm not heartless.} 2) Even when working in the yard, choose your clothing carefully. Because if you get struck by lightning, you might have on the world's most hilarious outfit when the coroner and the nightly news camera men show up to get footage of your misfortune. 3) God is good and our baby will most likely get to meet its earthly father, assuming we have no other near-death experiences in the next few weeks. 4) If he had been struck, I like to think Micah would have survived but lived the rest of his life with a Harry Potter-esque lightning scar on his forehead... and it would have been awesome. {via} ... Read more

Flowers Fade Friday: Limping and Learning

For the past almost-two weeks now, I have not been able to walk. I should clarify. I can walk. I am blessed to still walk around on my own two feet, but I cannot do so easily. I hobble and limp and each step comes with a wince of pain. I cannot move faster than about two miles per hour, and I use walls and tables to support my weight as I get up and sit down and turn directions. Apparently, I am in a small percentage of women whose hips over-relax for labor and it basically feels like my leg is falling out of my left hip socket at all times. For the most part, I've handled it pretty well, I suppose. I am slow. It's frustrating and discouraging. I feel like I still have a lot to get done before the baby arrives, and I'm physically incapable of doing most of the tasks on my list. I try to ignore the pain. But every once in a while it makes me want to cry because it's just so constant. Tylenol relieves it a little bit, but it's always there. But instead of dwelling on the physical pain and limitations, I've been asking God to open up my spiritual eyes to what He has to teach me through this trial. And I think of the lame, the crippled, the sick, sitting on the sides of dusty roads reaching out for Jesus as He walked by. Desperate for anything He could offer. Relief from pain. The ability to take one step. Rescue from a life spent in humiliation and helplessness. And Jesus, the Great Healer, offered so many of them the physical healing they desperately longed for. He saved them from a life spent lying in the dirt. But more than that, He offered them spiritual healing. Not only could He say "rise and walk" but He could offer them the greater gift... "Your sins are forgiven" (Luke 5:20). One of my favorite scenes at church every week is watching the congregation move toward the front for communion. On the one hand, it's just a bunch of men, women, and children dressed up and walking slowly down the aisle to receive their tiny portion of bread and juice. But on the other hand, it's so much more. These men, women, and children are weary sinners. They are saints acknowledging their Savior. As one week, with its temptations and trials ends, and a new week is about to begin, these sheep march forward, hands opened up to receive not just the bread and wine, but the gift from Savior... "Your sins are forgiven" (Mark 2:5). {via} Last week at church, I hobbled to the front for my taste of the body and blood. In front of hundreds, I was the big old pregnant woman at the end of the line limping her way toward the gift at the front. While the moment was slightly embarrassing, it was also the sweetest reminder that I've already been healed from my true ailment. My ability to walk might be hindered for a while longer, but my true needs have already been met. My sins are forgiven and for that I rejoice. But that you may know that the Son of Man has authority on earth to forgive sins"--he said to the man who was paralyzed--"I say to you, rise, pick up your bed and go home." -Luke 5:24- ... Read more

GREAT with child.

GREAT with child.

Wow. These pictures. I never looked at them closely until I was getting ready to post this. I am officially HUGE. I will no longer pass judgment on those who ask if I'm carrying twins... because MAYBE I AM?!?! Maybe the ultrasounds have been wrong all along and I desperately need an extra car seat on the double. No pun intended... except just a little bit. These are my 37 week photos and it's pretty much a miracle they even happened... because after 36 weeks of a magical and amazingly healthy pregnancy, I suddenly lost my ability to walk. I mean, I can still hobble around as I wince in pain, but I definitely cannot walk like a normal person. Now this walking problem is not the usual "40 Week Waddle." Oh no. I'd give anything to waddle in slight discomfort right now. It's also not the whole "feels like there's a bowling ball in my crotch" sensation as the baby drops down for delivery. Do you see how high that baby is? There are NO signs it's planning to come out anytime soon. It's also not "pretty normal" as my doctor, massage therapist, and countless women have tried to tell me it is. Because if it were normal, I would have seen at least a few of the many pregnant women I've known throughout my lifetime limp around in their final weeks. Now I'm not saying that no one has had this condition before. There are a small number of women who have experienced the same thing, and that comforts me in some strange way. From everything I can read on the subject, I have an acute case of Pelvic Girdle Pain or Symphysis Pubis Dysfunction. Sometimes these terms are used synonymously, but they are technically two separate conditions that often coincide. Anyway, long story short, my hips have over-extended as they have stretched for labor and it feels like my left leg is falling out of its hip socket at all times. I can hardly walk, and I cringe in pain every time I have to rotate my hip to get up, sit down, or turn sideways. So although most women experience discomfort in their final weeks of pregnancy, not many experience what I am describing. But I did make a new friend today who understood my pain. I limped into the gas station and the sweet attendant smiled at me and asked how I was doing. I told her "fine" other than the fact that my hips had decided to stop working. She looked sympathetic and said "That happened to me too." I am skeptical of these claims by now, but then she said "Your hips kill you and anytime you have to sit up to get out of bed or rotate your hips in any way, you basically want to cry because it hurts so bad." Yes and yes. Tears have been considered and stifled... thus far. She then informed me that hers got so bad that she literally had to have someone lift her out of the car when she was in labor. THIS is my future people. But, on a good note, I made new best friend at the gas station. Dress: Old Navy Maternity // Necklace: Australia {similar - similar - similar} So let's just assume this will be the last you see of these bump pictures. If ( or when...let's be honest) I make it to my due date, I will try to limp my way out the back door to snap a few shots, but I can make no guarantees. Also, my face in these pictures? Not the cutest. This might be because I put on make-up this day for the first time in approximately 3-4 weeks. I'm pretty sure my face was like "What the heck is this stuff? Get it off!" Let's just call it a pregnancy-related allergic reaction. P.S. Friendly reminder... there are TWO DAYS LEFT to enter my blogiversary giveaway! |Linking up w/ Because Shanna Said So, The Pleated Poppy, & Transatlantic Blonde| ... Read more