the reluctant pioneer

or, The Rest of the Story "Welkom" (Before I begin, I want to make it clear that while I differ from my family-of-origin, I do appreciate my parents' take on Halloween, esp. in light of Lutheran theology on our deceased brethren.) A couple years ago, it seemed every Catholic mommy blogger I followed was writing her own thesis on her DIY theology of Halloween: why it was really ok to not only participate, but revel in it. I read them out of curiosity, looking for some solid foundation, and ultimately rolled my eyes as I determined time and again that it was an eloquent way of excusing their desire to play dress-up and get candy. I grew up without Halloween and somewhat intentionally, Mark and I have continued that, um, lack of tradition. You might assume it's because I found value in not participating in it myself. You would be wrong. I hated Halloween growing up, but it was a hatred stemming from intense jealousy of everyone who got to go trick-or-treating

Part I , II , III Having survived another Minnesota winter, May brought the promise of green plants, fresh air, flowers, and, at the end of the month, my birthday. Finding myself suddenly tucked away from it all for an indefinite amount of time, I was struck by a longing for Spring that even the darkness of February hadn't roused in me. Despite my desire to breathe fresh air, I was very well-equipped in my spacious long-term-stay hospital room. There was a private bathroom with a tub/shower, a mini-fridge, a pull-out sofa, and a wall-to-wall bank of windows with a view of a gravel-covered roof beyond which I could see some of the buildings of downtown St Paul and the tips of two adolescent maples, bright green with the baby leaves of early Spring. I was so grateful for these two trees, and reminded myself that missing the entire month of May was an infinitely small price to pay for the life and health of my baby. I made the choice to surrender May and make my room my own litt

Part I , II Joey is nearing 5 months old and as I sit down to continue writing his birth story, I'm amazed at how long ago it all seems. I've moved on from the chaos of life during May and June and the memories are already fading. I need to write this down before it becomes a memory of, "He came early..." ---- The first item of business after confirming my rupture was to give me the first of 2 steroid injections, to help baby's lungs mature. I would get them 24 hours apart. 48 hours after the first shot, they would be fully effective. My prayer became, "Please keep him safe inside me at least until Tuesday morning." Along with the steroid shot, they started me on an IV of Magnesium Sulfate [Mag]. This had a 2-fold purpose: to prevent labor and help protect the delicate preemie brain if I did go into labor. In addition to the pokes and prods, I was informed that my beloved doctor, who had been giving  instructions over the phone, was passing my