July 10, 2017


Have you ever found yourself completely tuned out until a friend or preacher starts telling a personal story? Its not just me. I watch people who are actually paying attention straighten up and pay closer attention. We crave stories. Even people who annoy me to pieces, I want to hear stories about their lives.
Margret and HA Rey

We watch and read lot of Curious George, or just "George" as we call it in our house. After a couple books I kept noticing Margret and HA Rey as the authors. Is this a man and wife childrens book writer/illustrator team? If so, thats real sweet and cute. So then one day I remembered to google it after months of wanting to.

Y'all. What a story. Hans grew up next to the zoo in Hamburg, Germany. They first met at Margaret's sister's 16th birthday party. Then later meet again in Brazil while Hans is selling bathtubs. They get married and move to Paris and escape hours before the Nazis take it over on HOMEMADE bicycles. He draws and she writes. "
They wrote seven stories in all, with Hans mainly doing the illustrations and Margret working mostly on the stories, though they both admitted to sharing the work and cooperating fully in every stage of development." How precious are these people. (1)

Yesterday, a friend asked me to write down my story. Well the part about depression... so here it goes. 

I started getting sad when I was about 14. No real reason. Just couldn't get myself out of the funk. It would come and go, I'd be great for weeks then inconsolable in my bed, or just blankly nothing at all. I went to a counselor who said that I "lacked joy." Not extremely helpful for the amount of money it cost for her to tell me that. Also I may have been pre-occupied with the fear that she was going to make me talk or role play with puppets. I would sit there and stare at the basket of them and prepare what I would say if she asked me to. One time she picked one up, just to move it, but I almost died in that giant puffy floral chair. I was 16 I think. 

Fast forward to college. I fell apart pretty hard. I would go to the big christian weekly event (can't even remember the name) and watch people interact and smile and enjoy and I COULD NOT. I would come late and leave early to miss the social aspect of it. Then I would get in my car and cry my eyes out about how alone I was. I went to a counselor who told me I didn't know who I was. I disagreed. So I moved colleges, from Tech to Texas State. Moving didn't fix anything. I fell apart harder. So hard in fact I would label it my "rock bottom." It was the realization that I was helpless to get myself out of the sadness, despite my best efforts. 

I came home one weekend and talked with a friend who was dabbling in some kind of drug or another. I asked him if he was addicted. He said yes but that it was the same as my addiction to being sad. WHAT?! Who would choose this?! But he was right. It had been so long that being sad was my comfort zone. Its where I knew how to operate and I didn't hate all the aspects of it either. I could write for hours. My creative mind was opened full wide in the midst of it. I later read about how this is a thing. Depression and creativity. Even my beloved Counting Crows would write their best songs in the pit. "You can get addicted to a certain kind of sadness" -Gotye... So real. 

Then some things hit SO HARD from out of nowhere. Things that are true, and are the exact thing you needed to hear, though you didn't know you needed to hear it. I watched the movie "Proof" with Gwyneth Paltrow and Anthony Hopkins. A story of math geniuses who also suffer from mental illness. Dad genius asks daughter genius "How many days have you lost?" (to her mental illness) She knew the number. How many days had I lost? How many more was I going to lose? That question hung in the air, illuminated, repeating itself in my mind. "How many days have you lost?"  

When I try to describe depression this is usually what I describe. Take an egg carton full of eggs. They all fit perfectly into their little "nests." Those eggs are named "friends" "family" "school" "faith" "church" etc. Then, one by one those "eggs" that you KNOW fit in the carton, no longer fit. Then you start thinking about those "eggs." Well this is what I thought about my ________ but if it doesn't fit anymore maybe I'm wrong and what I thought isn't true. You stop knowing what is real or made up in your despair. You end up with an empty carton, and giant gooey mess on the floor that you're trying to put back together. But you can't put a broken egg back together. You have to start over and get new eggs. 

"I can't get myself out of this. Help me, make me better" That was my prayer. I had moved back to Lubbock for the spring semester of my sophomore year. I found a room for rent in Tech Terrace where I had my own bathroom and got to roll the dishwasher to the sink to hook it up to run it. And it was there that the Holy Spirit, the Counselor, began to guide me out of depression. "Take every thought captive" (2 Corinthians 10:5) I didn't realize how often my thoughts were a spiral of terrible things. So I started to catch myself. Stop the spiral. I couldn't trust my thoughts so I needed something I KNEW was true. The word of God. I would wake up, pray, and read a scripture, TRUTH, out loud. I can still see the morning sun rays through the blinds in my musty room. Truth hanging in the air, illuminated, repeating itself in my mid. 

"I have a plan for you" Jeremiah 29:11
"I will heal the broken hearted" Psalm 147:3
"I am near to those who are crushed in spirit" Psalm 34:18
"I will not leave you or forsake you " Hebrews 13:5
"The Lord will fight for you, just be still" Exodus 14:14
More verses like this.

Honestly, after this semester of replacing lies with truth I was better. It would still hit me in waves but not like before. I got married in 2010 and had a really hard year of depression, largely in part to birth control making me out of my mind (more on this in a future post). But bless Rob, we made it through. I found a counselor who was absolutely precious and called by God to be a counselor who spoke so much truth into my life. 

Depression has a way of making you very self-centered. Not because you want to be but because at any given moment you are fighting so hard not to fall apart.  

I share this because I was asked to, and because its not all my story but the Lord's story of healing. And because I can share it without shame or embarrassment, I know that healing has taken place. "Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God." 2 Corinthians 1:3-4

We are the sum of our stories. Stories are our navigation of hope. Share your story to a friend or a counselor. Someone else may need it, maybe you just need to hear yourself say it out loud... you may find healing as the words come out of "hiding" into the light. 

(1) https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Margret_Rey

June 19, 2017

Bad Word Sundays and Crockpot Provision

If I'm going to say a bad word, its probably on a Sunday morning. It never ceases to amaze me the absolute CLUSTER of trying to get ready for church with two little kids. Sure we wake up in plenty of time, so in the spirit of "rest" I leisurely make coffee just before the kids wake up (just minutes before don't be impressed) and wake them with an excited "are you ready to make new friends at church today!?" or to Perry, "Good morning sugar baby!"

This is our first full Sunday in our new town, and the church (community) is the sanity of our existence so there was no doubt we are going this morning. Sesame Street is shutting down so I rush to make some scrambled eggs. Its too late the baby is hungry ... hangry. Ive "rested" too long. She likes to pull on my clothes because she wants to make sure I can hear all the whining in a physical way too. This really only bothers me in the mornings because pajama pants have elastic waists. I have cooked one too many breakfasts pulling my pants back up. Stress.

We eat breakfast and I think "we should invite your brother and fam for dinner" because I want to be that person that invites people to dinner. Even in corporate, smoked-in, oh-sorry-we-keep-the-poop-diapers-on-the-patio-balcony-till-we-take-them-out apartments. So I rush to make a crockpot (more on this later) meal as fast as I can so we won't be late to church. Stress.

You watch the kids. Ill do this. and that. and gather all the little things we forget we HAVE to get and do on the way out the door. Oh you have to take a shower, that sucks for me. Ill get out the clothes. Where are the bike shorts?! She HAS to have them under her dress. "Just tell her to wear something else." Ha. You tell her. *screaming and gnashing of teeth* Nora is now dressed in jeans and a shirt that matches her purple bow, but wait her pants are "just falling off all the time!" *wailing and tearing of garments* STRESS.

I don't want her to be miserable at church her first day so I find Perry's 18-24 mo bike shorts and squish those chunky 5T legs into them. Boom. I don't know hows she's getting out of them but at least were dressed. I can only find one earring. We discuss (in an argumentative way) about waking up earlier and off we go. yay. so excited. (enter emotionless face emoji here)

Church was lovely, the girls did great. I saw friends from college and their babies. We ate lunch in peace. Took naps. Played with the patio door open in the sunshine, listened to the new John Mayer and Chris Stapleton albums. The girls just played together. And I just watched. REST.

Dinner was tasty. The cousins tried out poking each other, stealing toys and took turns making each other laugh/cry. Cookies, ice cream, wine, laughs, goodnight.

There's a million reasons not to go to church but you just go. And it changes everything when you follow through with a commitment... and walk in obedience.
"Let us not give up meeting together" Hebrews 10:25

Speaking of walking in obedience: This move was a step in what we feel like God was calling us to do. Everything has just worked out y'all. We found a funky (positive and negative connotations) little house in midland, sold our house in Katy in 6 hours for way over asking price, a contractor to begin the day after we closed, have friends who tell you about all the things to sign up for before we even moved and a crockpot.

We moved into a furnished corporate apartment. After going through all the kitchen things I decided I wanted 3 things: Bigger coffee cups, a blender and a crockpot. We decided we could live with tiny coffee cups and no blender but a crockpot was must. So we went to walmart and bought a cheap one. The next day I went to check on our house and there was a package from a sweet friend with two giant coffee cups from a coffee shop in Georgia called the "Dancing Goats Coffee." The day after that the apartment beside us was getting cleaned out. They left in the hall... basically in front of my door... a blender and a crockpot. I asked the lady if they were working and she said "yes, take them." I took the blender and left what would have been my crockpot (had I the patience and spirit to ask for one) for some one else.

I forget sometimes that the Lord cares about little things, but He does. Remember that.

October 4, 2016

Goat Food

Well I did it folks. Cleaned out the ole trash box, got some new dirt, then some more new dirt and planted some seeds... and some already sprouted plants for self-encouragement. 

Since I last blogged we have learned that Nora also has my condition of hereditary high cholesterol (Familial Hypercholesterolemia) Meaning that despite our healthy food choices and activeness ... its still going to be high. Or so that's what I was taught starting at the age of 8 when my total cholesterol was over 300 (LDL over 200 for you people who know that totals don't mean a lot) and I began taking medication. I was on medication until the age of 27 when I stopped to try to get pregnant. Almost 20 years on various drugs including statins with side effects that are so bad that high cholesterol seems less risky than trying to reduce it via medication.  For a good 14 of those years I struggled with depression which I have now learned is a possible side effect as well. 

Since we got Nora's test results I have started my Ph.D. in biology and nutrition. Not an actual Ph.D. but Im learning everything there is to learn. Im drawing fatty acid chains people! This is for real. I am also UN-learning a lot. In 1992 the government created the first food pyramid, one year before 8 year old me is sent to the dietitian to learn how to eat the "right" way. The base of that pyramid has you eat 6-12 servings of grains. Grains that turn into sugar, cause inflammation and signal your body to create cholesterol to repair the damage of inflammation. And then there is the LOW-FAT disaster of advice. There are no studies that link low consumption of (good)fat diets to the reduction of heart disease. The study used that this advice was founded on is no longer regarded at good science. The government last year even issued a new dietary guide where total fat and food cholesterol are no longer limited... because it has no beneficial effect on weight loss or overall health, including cholesterol levels. 

How interesting. Do you know what Nora's doctor told me when we got the results? 
Put her on a low-fat diet. Many doctors and dietitians still do not know what they are talking about in regards to "healthy" eating. They are talking about what they have been told and they are wrong. I could go on and on about this forever but I can tell you what I know so far. 

  • If it comes in a box/packaging you can almost bet its not gonna help your health one bit
  • Eat fruit and vegetables ALOT -that are in season.
  • If you are going to eat meat, eat meats and eggs STRAIGHT from the farm where the animals/animal products you are eating are from animals that are living as they were intended to live, eating what they were intended to eat. 
  • You NEED GOOD fat for energy and million other things. 
  • Grass-fed butter is actually good for you. Fake butter is NOT good for you ..its all bad oils (see below). If you can't handle the dairy in butter then use Ghee or nothing.
  • Whole grains are better than partial-grains(?) they fill you up but you will be hungry again in no time if this is the bulk of your eating and it should not be. 
  • AVOID AT ALL COSTS -VEGETABLE OILS: Soybean, Cottonseed, Safflower, Corn, Canola, Sunflower Oil. Read: INFLAMMATION.
  • Sugar is the prettiest tastiest most addictive health destroying devil. Take one last look & RUN. 

Im not getting back on medication after I'm done nursing Perry. Its too risky. And Nora's not going to be put on it either. If smart eating can control our "poor genetics" then thats what we'll do. Not ready to sign up for dementia, diabetes, and depression. No thanks. I don't eat perfectly. (I may or may not have eaten 12 cookies every night for the first 5 months I was nursing) Its so much harder to eat right, but its worth it. And now I have a precious 2.5 year old reason to figure this out and teach her how to eat well too.
So its been so long since I started writing this post here is a garden update! (also amateur hour... who knew peas needed something to climb up. Added those too large trellises yesterday. oops)


Then theres the other side of things... 
Meals. Celebrations. Togetherness. Breaking bread together. Its no wonder to me that we live in a time of so many food allergies, strict diets and very difficult food choices when God intended meals to be a time of fellowship, rest, & renewal. I have recently been pressed to embrace this, the cooking of meals and inviting people in to my home to share meals. God is good like that. To lead me in a holy direction before/during a time of so much science and research about diets and health. Bread is my favorite food. FAVORITE. Man can not live on bread alone? I would like to try. (jk Jesus, I love your Word) So whatever my current beliefs about bread/wheat ... I know the breaking of something together is the key.

In my head I have a grand garden and at the end of the season we have a meal with all our friends. A Harvest. Like an annual Friendsgiving. Pretty sure my garden isn't going to feed many this year. But my goal is to gather. We may share a couple peas and some weird looking carrots but that ok. Lets learn to cook vegan or gluten-free, its not that hard. Let's break broccoli together if that what it takes.
Ill leave you with some art by my dear friend Lauren of Tone&State :

August 20, 2016

"A bit of earth"

Whoa my friends. Whoa. It has been a little over two years since I have blogged. I'm pretty sure I have written at least 15 mental posts but in a season of learning to become and mother and becoming a mother again I haven't found the right time to sit down and type it all out. Lately though, I can't shake it. I MUST write it down. I hope its worthy of your time, or at least your glance.

A quick 2.5 year recap: Nora born. Whoa. Non sleep. Then sleep. Diapers. Talking. Dinners. Groceries. LAUNDRY. No Diapers. Big girl bed. Perry Born. Whoa. NON SLEEP. Laid off. Job. Then more non-sleep. 

And that's basically it, with a whole lot of joy, tears, new friends, seeking the Lord, and reading sleep books. My brain capacity feels so much less than it used to be so bear with my 5th grade vocabulary... as I have regressed. Anyway... here we go...

Have you read The Secret Garden? Here's the part I always come back to:
“Might I,” quavered Mary, “might I have a bit of earth?” 

In her eagerness she did not realize how queer the words would sound and that they were not the ones she had meant to say. Mr. Craven looked quite startled.

“Earth!” he repeated. “What do you mean?”

“To plant seeds in–to make things grow–to see them come alive,” Mary faltered.
He gazed at her a moment and then passed his hand quickly over his eyes.

“Do you–care about gardens so much,” he said slowly.

“I didn’t know about them in India,” said Mary. “I was always ill and tired and it was too hot. I sometimes made littlebeds in the sand and stuck flowers in them. But here it is different.”

Mr. Craven got up and began to walk slowly across the room.

“A bit of earth,” he said to himself, and Mary thought that somehow she must have reminded him of something. 

When he stopped and spoke to her his dark eyes looked almost soft and kind.

“You can have as much earth as you want,” he said. “You remind me of some one else who loved the earth and things that grow. When you see a bit of earth you want," with something like a smile, “take it, child, and make it come alive.” 
As I look at my very muddy/weed forest/stray cat crap box of a garden I am sad every time. Remember when Rob just built it?! So exciting. But its a tedious process. And you have to remember to water it. And do all of the other things in life. Then there's bugs on your precious baby veggie leaves and if you spray it with the stuff from home depot is your garden then still ORGANIC?! Tough stuff y'all. 

do notice my pj pants reflection in the window
But I think there is a lot of merit it gardening. As Sarah Clarkson says in A Life Giving Home ...

"However we view vocation and occupation in this modern world, the fact remains that in the beginning, one of the primary human cares was that of the earth. To grow, tend, and, we believe, simply to behold the splendor of what comes forth from seeds planted in the ground was part of the original human identity given by God in the opening glory of a new creation. Planting a garden is a way of returning to an awareness of essentials. It is, first, a way to remember our dependence on the earth to produce the food that nourishes and heals our bodies" 

I want to garden because its peaceful. Because its the opposite of Facebook. Because I want to eat from it. Because I want my girls to love gardening and growing and to have a love for the earth. Because it is beautiful. 

I am in a season right now of really deciding what I want to "plant" in my girls. And how to plant it. But eventually I just have to plant and figure it out as it grows or doesn't. 

So hold me to cleaning up and cultivating that "bit of earth" in my home and back yard. And impart your wisdom on me! I'd love to hear your best tidbits of what works and doesn't (gardening and child growing)

Have a lovely day friends. 

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June 9, 2014

Why I Chose Midwives and Nora's Birth Story

"What does your doctor say?"
"Oh, well I am with Midwives, but they say .... "
*blank stare*
"So are you like delivering in your house!?"

I think I had that conversation about 8,459 times. 
How did I get to using midwives instead of an OB?

Through A BUNCH of bad stuff that went down with my doctor treating me like a serious medical case when there was no real reason to...  I switched doctors. I started bleeding pretty much from the get go. I would call and they would say come in... she does an exam (I bleed more because of the exam) she says everything is ok. Put this on repeat for 5 weeks.

I told a friend about all the crappy "happenings" with the doctor and she told me about how her sister had had a traumatic first birth and wanted to go for a more natural approach with her second kid and take out unnecessary medical intervention. I started researching Midwifery (my sister cannot handle the goodness of this word) and was amazed with their philosophy and again felt disappointed with America's view of medicine. Let me explain...

Did you know midwives are the primary care people for pregnant women almost everywhere else IN THE WORLD except the US and Canada? Thats right. A healthy pregnancy equals a midwife, and with that a very personalized care model. An Obstetrician is trained in pregnancy as a medical specialty, which is very good and important given the need for "medical specialty." Midwives view of pregnancy is that it is a natural part of life, let your body progress and grow this baby as it was designed to. Medical intervention is used when necessary, not routinely. Joanna Goddard of Cup of Jo blog did a segment some time ago about American mothers living around the world. It was really interesting to read their birth stories with midwives (as is the norm in those countries). This one (Northern Ireland) and this one (Norway) are great reads, but really they all are. Like this one about breastfeeding and breast milk in the Congo.

I put myself on the wait list for the Midwives at Texas children's downtown Houston.


When I started with the midwives (based out of a hospital, where they also deliver) I was about 16 weeks along. My first visit lasted over an hour... and that means one-on-one time, me and the midwife talking in depth about my medical history, my current place in life (job, stresses, relationships, hopes, feelings, not kidding!) and of course the baby! I was still bleeding a little but we discussed at length what the bleeding looked like, how much, when it occurred and didn't occur and what the OB had found (or not found via ultrasounds and exams). She decided a pelvic exam was not necessary not wanting to cause any more bleeding from the exam. I left and cried knowing this was exactly where I needed to be.

From this point, a lot of it looked the same as it would with an OB, I went every 4 weeks, then 2 weeks, then every week... each time making sure I had met with each midwife at least once (they are a group of 6) so when the time came for Nora to be born, I would have been acquainted with whoever was on call. Midwives, viewing pregnancy as a normal life process, also believe in helping the body through labor sans medicine if that is the wish of the patient. This looks like education. YOU, the pregnant lady, knowing what labor will look like and how it will progress, and also ways to move and help your body along the way. They, of course, guide you through this during labor but want to know you are informed beforehand.


About week 37, one of the midwifes figured out my belly was too big. I went to a specialist (an OB) and figured out I had excess fluid. That story here. Because there was so much fluid, Nora was basically floating. Though she was head down she couldn't get down far enough to put my body into labor. At 40 weeks 6 days, barely dilated, I went in to be induced.

Go in to have cervical softener overnight. The TV sound doesn't work. Im bummed. Im excited! Tomorrow is the day! Talk to midwife about New Girl and shows on Netflix.

Start Pitocin... 8 hours later, nothing has happened. NOTHING. Take me off pitocin, start over tomorrow. Midwife (a different one) says this happens, my body just needed to get ready today, it will work tomorrow.

Start Pitocin ... 2 hours later my water breaks. It floods the room. There is a "caution floor is wet" sign placed in my door way. Not kidding. Midwife (another different one) comes in and says "I knew it was your room because of the sign!!" Then labor really starts. Slow at first and then picks up. My plan is no meds... so here we go. Mary, the midwife, talks me through breathing. We walk, we sit, we breathe, I get in the bath and she rubs my back and runs water over my back, she massages my legs and feet. We talk about midwifery, babies, behavior therapy, my sister, how I want to throw up because I can smell the beef jerky Rob is eating. About 12 hours in I'm at 9 cm. "You're so close!" Rob says. Well 5 hours later I am still 9cm. In birth class you learn that in transition, the contractions to get you from 8-10cm, are the worst but the fastest and then you push a baby out. Not so for ole Danielle. Mary has tried everything, I am basically dead from being in transition for 5 hours/labor for so long. Also Nora is faced the wrong way, destroying my back. I give it a few more contractions but my body is so tense from pain that I'm not progressing to 10cm. At this point I can try to keep going with no pain meds knowing if I don't get a baby out in the 24 hour mark from my water breaking its a c-section.. OR I can get an epidural, relax and let my body keep working and save energy for pushing. Given epidural or c-section... I choose epidural. Rob has to leave according to hospital policy. Mary, just hugs me and talks to me, tries to keep me still through contractions while they are doing the epidural. I love this woman.

Nora didn't like the epidural. Ugh, this is why I didn't want one. They have to take me off pitocin and start over again, slowly. There is an OB on the case pressuring the midwife to let her intervene. There is no need Mary says. This all becomes blurry. Sometime around 3-4 am Im 10 cm. PRAISE GOD! I push for no less than 4 hours, because she is faced the wrong way and giant (as we now know). A big thank you to sister for holding my leg for so long and seeing way more than you wanted to see :)

21 hours later, Friday 8:04 am, Nora is born. Nora means "light," she was waiting for the sun to rise. She came out eyes wide open looking at Danay and Rob. They laid her on my chest, let me know she's really here for some moments, then took her to the baby station. "10 pounds!" they yell out.

They sew me up (2nd degree tear which is amazing considering her size and that I delivered her head and an arm) I have lost a lot of blood. I turn yellow-green and stay that way for the next 3 weeks. She is perfect. I don't remember very much of the first 3 weeks to be honest. It breaks my heart that I can't really remember her in the hospital. Just bits and pieces. I have pictures holding her so I know that I did. I remember Rob being a super hero, he did everything. Diapers and swaddling, bringing her to me to nurse and laying her back down, getting me food and making sure I ate and drank, helping me stand up (after I could without passing out). Love that guy. I remember in the hospital the nurse saying, "after you feed her let me take her to the nursery and you get some rest." I say ok, I sleep. She comes back and I ask if Nora slept, she says "no, she was my little buddy for the last 3 hours" A theme to continue, little did I know. I never got a sleepy newborn that you can sit in church with all peacefully hahah. Nora is wide eyed and more alert than any baby I have ever seen. And we're in love.

Swaddle Master

I firmly believe if I was not with the midwives I would have ended up in an unnecessary c-section. Nora's pediatrician even said, "I can't believe your OB let you deliver her." I did, and it was tough but I did and we were both fine. I am so grateful for a vaginal delivery and for trusting my body and the midwife trusting me and my body despite what other medical people thought and think after hearing the story.


If you are considering midwives, I urge you to do your research. Ask your doctor what their c-section rates are. Compare that to what the midwives are. In my case it was OB 30%, Midwives 4%. Ask your doctor questions! Challenge them if something seems weird to you! I felt the hospital was still the best place to deliver with midwives, though there are home-based and birth center based too. My insurance covered them. My OB never acknowledged Rob in the room, the midwives got to know him and asked him what questions he had. My OB left for the weekend without giving me a call back in a serious situation because it was past 12pm on Friday. The midwives stayed on the phone with frantic me on more than one occasion and called back to check up. Its obvious I believe this was the best choice for me, but that in no way means I judge your choices. I know there are amazing OBs out there and thank God for them! Just wanted to share my experience because its different than the norm and I have had so many questions.

One Month
Two months
Three Months
Please let me know if you have any more questions! I would love to answer them. Comment or email me at danielle.goates@gmail.com

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February 18, 2014

Nora's Nursery

Well folks, Im due tomorrow and still no baby in sight... well besides my giant "are you having twins?' belly. But it did give me ample time to finish her room. The only thing lacking is the quilt but its coming!

 The name "Nora" means "light" I had this verse printed in gold foil...

 This print from Satchel & Sage was a gift from Laurel for my birthday and fit perfectly in here :)

Growth chart from Gus & Lula on Etsy

Letters from Rob's mom!

Crib skirt made by my mom is my favorite fabric

February 13, 2014

Sugar Withdrawal: A "cartoon"

I went to the midwife a little over 2 weeks ago and my belly measured 3 inches bigger than it did the week before. Uh oh. I went to get an ultrasound and it showed I have WAY too much amniotic fluid. This can be caused by a lot of things, but usually its gestational diabetes. I tested negative for that but it doesn't mean I don't have it.

So then began my cold turkey cut of sugar and bread. It was a nasty little journey that I thought I would draw pictures about because I wake up at 3-4 am every morning and have nothing else to do. If you want to quit sugar... Here's what to expect:

Never before had I cared about chocolate commercials or understood why they show melty chocolate flowing everywhere. 

When you stop eating sugar things with even tiny amounts of sweet, taste sweeter than they used to!  Your palette adjusts and you crave sugar less. Its an amazing thing. 

Went back to check on the fluid and it has gone down! Praise the lord! 
All the stages are definitely worth going through for me and the babe. 

Goat & Spoon © 2013.

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