Adam David Guerra LeJeune

My baby boy was born 3 days after his due date. The delivery took about 9 hours and with all the contractions I have had over the past few weeks, there was no pre-labor. From the moment the contractions started till the moment Adam was born they were only a couple minutes apart and very intense! I've got to say, labor was every bit as painful as one might imagine. But I am so thankful that everything went smoothly and naturally. The birthing center was great, although I only spent 2 hours in labor there. Almost all the laboring I did at home. My mom, Seth and my dula Andrea were my amazing support.
When I held Adam for the first time it seemed so unreal. We didn't even check to see if he was a boy or girl till after he was on my chest. I looked down at him and there was no mistaking, we had the boy we had imagined. Seth and I felt sure he would be a boy, although we didn't find out his sex prior to the birth. I'd have to say it didn't feel real till a couple days later... He really is my son and I am his mamma and he is the cutest baby in the world. I am a proud mamma.

He was born at 8:09 am on March 9th, 8 pounds 6 ounces, 20 inches long and beautiful.

His name is very special. Seth and I loved the name Adam and agreed it fit our first son, the first man. David (his first middle name) was chosen in honor of my "brother" Paul whose birth name name is David Paul. When I think of what an adventurer Paul was as a boy (and is today) I can only hope that Adam embraces the world with such courage and joy. Paul loves the Lord with all his heart and will be a good example of a man for Adam. Adam's second middle name is also my maiden name, Guerra. It means war in Spanish; and that is what I hope for Adam, that he become a warrior of light. Also, my father never had a son, in his honor our little boy carries on his name. Also Adam's father has two middle names and the second one is his mothers' maiden name. So in a special way he is also named after his father. 

I thank the Lord daily for such a precious gift He has trusted us with. A sweet little person to love and hold and teach in the way he should go. Our little family has grown. I look forward to many new memories...

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My Bird. My Baby.

Our new home is much better than our last.
Although the stories were hilarious to recount, the experience was less than desirable. We had neighbors with the stamina to fight with each other (loudly I might add) for over 12 hours. Impressive. I felt like I was eavesdropping with our cardboard thick walls. Another joy of our apartment was, "our pets". At least, that's what we humorously called them. We had a least two small creatures living in our attic. They liked to claw,  and tumble around. I'm not exactly sure WHAT they were doing up there. But a wrestling match with a trampoline for hurling their furry bodies at each other was not out of the question. There were times when the thumps were so loud I was sure they would fall through ceiling and land in my house.
The worst thing about our old place was how common the sound of gun fire was. At least 2 or 3 times a week we would hear shots fired. And the really disturbing part was that we got used to it. We were so used to it, in fact, that we stopped calling the cops. And more often than not the shots were followed by silence, instead of sirens.
Our new house is a new experience altogether. We can't hear our neighbors at all. Haven't once. In fact, most of the time it's a quiet neighborhood. (I haven't heard a single gun shot, thank God). We have upgraded in so many ways. We have two bedrooms now instead of one, the kitchen is bigger, the windows are nicer. But one of my favorite things about our new place is our bird. I began calling it that after it's third or fourth appearance. You see, there is a bird couple residing near our house. They are adorable little things that are obviously in love (as much as a bird can be).
They fluttered about like they were twitterpated and the lady bird was obviously full with eggs. The mommy bird liked to perch her chubby eggfull self on the ledge of our deck. Which is how I first noticed her cuteness. I was sitting on the chair by the sliding glass doors when she looked at me. She likes to just sit, look in, bob around a bit and flutter away. Sometimes she uses her perch to rest for a few minutes and we look right at each other. If she could talk I'm sure we'd be friends.
It snowed nearly a foot and I didn't see my bird for a few days. At first I was concerned. But then, there she was, she managed to sit in the snow on that ledge. Her tiny body was covered in the mess, so she didn't stay long. The last time I saw her perch was a few days ago. I don't think she'll have as much time for me as she used to... Because she wasn't chubby anymore. She must have laid her eggs.

Maybe the reason I was so enamored with that little eggfull bird is because of my own pregnancy. It was a journey we were both experiencing. I am 1 day past my due date and I am desperate to have this baby! I've eaten spicy food, taken a walk, done squats and more. Most first-time moms are late. My mom was 10 days late with all three of her kids. And I know I don't REALLY have a choice when this baby will come. And it's not as if I need to rush... The baby will be more of a challenge than my uncomfortable belly ever was. But....
I'm ready to hold my baby.
I long to hold this new little person in my arms and tell my little one how much I love it. I long to see my husband's tear stained face at becoming a father, and I long to be a mother. I can't wait to know if it's a little boy or a little girl.
I feel so honored that God has entrusted us with this special little person. I know so many struggle to get pregnant and many cannot conceive at all. I don't take this for granted. We are blessed. Undeservedly blessed. And I am thankful. Everything about the pregnancy has been pretty normal. No reason to think they'll be any complications with the birth. We will be at a birthing center with no conventional pain killers, just all natural remedies; that's my style. Any hour now I hope to go into labor. Or as I tell my belly, "bring it on baby!"...

Please pray that the baby comes swiftly and everything goes well. Pray that God gives me the strength and endurance for labor and pray for speed and ease.

Thanks for reading...

-Leah LeJeune

Belly Magic

One of the most amazing feelings in the world is the feeling of a child moving inside the womb. It is something so sacred shared between mommy and baby that nothing in the world can touch. They say 13 weeks is the earliest time which a mother can truly feel the movement of her child. However, many woman have an inner knowing long before 13 weeks or even before they take a pregnancy test that they are indeed with child. Some mothers have reported "knowing" immediately after intercourse. With the knowledge of a baby inside, a mother is eager to connect with her baby and to protect her baby. The first time you feel a baby inside you it's like butterflies wings gently batting at the insides of your stomach. A little fairy magic sprinkling nervous surprise.
I am a pregnant mother, a first time mom, and the experience is new and wonderful to me. I did feel the butterfly wings as 13 weeks and have felt my little one moving ever since. My husband and I got to witness a beautiful sonogram as well. Our tiny little child was swimming and flapping its' arm very passionately. The connection we felt to our child at that moment was amazing. I can't even imagine what we will feel upon holding our baby. And meeting our child in person. We laughed, we held each other and for hours after the sonogram, we were walking on air. We had a happy, healthy ball of energy growing inside me, a person our love had formed.
For weeks I tried putting my husbands' hand on my belly so he could feel it move, but our little one was too small. He felt left out. There he was, so close to his child. The baby could hear his voice. But daddy still couldn't feel the movement. I am 18 weeks along now and today our baby got stronger. Seth (my husband) put his hand on my belly right where I told him, as we had done many time before. But this time he felt it! The thud, thud, of our baby was more pronounced. I wish I had taken a picture of Seth at that moment. He was a proud father, glowing. And he got to feel just a small part of what I get to feel everyday; belly magic.

Walking on Water-Chapter 16

The rains began the next morning and continued for three days. It was heavy rain. The kind that penetrated even the deep forest. But unlike feeling rain like big constant drops, the upper leaves would deposit showers that drenched periodically if you stood in just the wrong spot. Marcson tried to explain to Ethory how to walk just right between the trees to not get as wet... But it was no use. After hours of instruction no matter how closely Eth followed Marcson and no matter how he tried to heed his advice a downpour would cover his head what seemed like every three to five steps.

Sheera turned and laughed after a particularly heavy dump. “How do you expect to make it across land with us when you can’t even stay dry?”

“Well I suppose I’ll just have to learn to travel wet.” Ethory said shaking his arms and wiping is face and hair with his hands. “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, right?”

“Wise man. Truly spoken.” Marcson encouraged. Who was getting a bit discouraged that Ethory couldn’t stay dry even after his extensive lessons.

“I mean I can’t be perfect at everything right?” Asked Ethory with a laughed.

“Or perfect at anything.” Sheera cut.

“Hey now, you haven’t eaten my cooking, or seen me hunt. I’d say I’m fair at both.”

“I must agree my lady. Ethory makes a mean stew.” Marcson said.

“Yet to be eaten, too true. But I don’t think you men would know a good meal from a bad one.”

“Fair enough my lady. Fair enough.” Conceded Marcson.

Ethory thought her too proud. “Can you cook?” He asked her. “I don’t think you’ve made a single meal in three days.”

Sheera was caught off guard. “A Trivedell has no need to cook. Magic of the north makes my food when I am there.”

“Isn’t much use down here with us regular folk is it?” Ethory prodded. "We have to cook for you..."

“Speaking of food. I am rather hungry. Should we stop and make a tent and some sustenance before dark?” Marcson cut in.

“No. There is a clearing up ahead and I think we should push up the next incline and then rest.” Sheera suggested.

“But wouldn’t it make sense to set up camp within the trees where at least we have a little cover?” Asked Ethory.

“Do you feel dry here?” asked Sheera.

Ethory seceded and both men followed her lead up the next hill. It took nearly thirty minutes to reach the crest and they were very hungry and tired once they reached it. One thing Ethory could say about their female companion was she certainly had more endurance than any woman or man he had ever come across. He accounted it to her ancestry. In the next hour dinner was made and a shelter as well. The three sat huddled together under their scant shanty and heard the rain tapping on the cloth. Ethory watched as the drops rolled off the edge of the fabric and disturbed the short grasses beneath. The wood lay behind them and an immense field lay before them with no end in sight to their long journy. 

“How many days do we have left before we see the others?” asked Ethory.

“At this pace, ridiculously longer than it would’ve taken on my own.” Sheera replied. “I would’ve been there days ago.”

“Aren’t you special?” Mocked Ethory, who was done with Sheera’s pride. “Now you can tell me what you think or you can leave me guessing. But I really don’t understand why you wouldn’t just tell me when you think we’re getting there.”

“It should be about one more day.” Interjected Marcson, “Don’t you think Sheera?”

“Yes, or half day at my pace.” Sheera said.

“Lets try it my pace shall we? I might travel through tonight. I’m sick of all this walking. I want a roof and a soft bed.” Ethory said.

“Do you think the castle will house you?” Sheera laughed.

“I don’t mean to question your ladyship.” Said Marcson, “But that’s just what he will do. My father and mother are the king and queen of Berloge and have been on good terms with the king of Natchare for many years. We will all be welcomed into the courts.”

“A prince have we?” Asked Sheera.

“You never told me you were a prince.” Ethory said.

“You never asked.” Replied Marcson.

“You are of the Kensworths’ then… I should’ve known.” Replied Sheera shaking her head as if her chide herself. “You’re Marcson the second. The son who has been on a quest to find his brothers’ killer for years now… You left your father, mother and sister years ago.”

“I didn’t know you had a sister…” Ethory began to feel Marcson had hidden a great deal from him. “Yes. Princess Melodi, the lovely. She is my older sister…. Sorry I did not tell you Ethory. I like for men to know me as a man before they know my bloodline. I don’t like my crown to proceed me.”

Ethory could respect that and he nodded.

“Oh such a sweet prince. The ladies swoon over thee I’m sure.” Sheera laughed.

Marcson just shook his head and laughed. But Ethory wondered if there was someone back home. Why wouldn’t there be? Marcson wasn’t only a great guy (not to mention a talented man) he was royalty too. Wasn’t he what every woman wanted?  Ethory felt very ill. Once Amber knew who Marcson really was, she’d never give him a second glance. But he didn’t dwell on her long.

Wasn’t his mission to find his father? (How impossible it seemed). Why was he going to the capital in the first place? Maybe he should try going on his own for a while.

“I think I’m ready to go.” Ethory said. “I can head west and get to where were going right?” A huge leaf dumped gallons on his head that very moment and he paused pursing his lips with frustration. Sheera and Marcson could not help but laugh. Ethory wiped his eyes and left them. But he heard Marcson’s voice behind him. “Yes that’s right Ethory. We will catch up.”

But Ethory hoped they wouldn’t. He wanted a moments peace. He hadn’t had a minute alone since he got to this world. His own world felt strangely distant and he wondered if he would ever drive a car or eat a cheese burger again. Would he ever really be home? Ever find his father? Ethory knew he was becoming discouraged and he didn’t care. He let the dark thoughts overtake his mind and he fell into a despondently thoughtful and determinedly quick stride.  

Soul Mates

I didn't used to believe in the concept of "soul mates" two people so perfectly suited for each other that them ending up with someone else would be a travesty to love. I had been wrong too many times. I'd been so sure that this time it was real, was right, was God's design. I began to think more and more that choosing a mate had more to do with my choice than anything else. You meet someone and instead of some cosmic force of God and nature the Lord Himself (being a fan of free will) says, go for it if you want to! I liked this view better because it took the pressure off. There was a thought in the back of my head, a fear really, that if I finally made my decision and settled down that i would shortly after meet the one person the universe and God had destined me for. And I would be doomed to live a life short of the beautiful romance I'd hoped for.
When I met Seth I tried to run in the opposite direction. I was sick of being wrong about the guy. Sick of dating. Of committing. Of having my hopes dashed on sharp rocks. I wanted to wait for a storybook, a chic flick relationship. A relationship so perfect that I couldn't have a doubt in my mind that this was it.
But as I grew up I realized I no longer wanted anything that was fake. Anything that was contrived. I wanted the ugly reality. I wanted a man who was so real and honest that there was no way he was "acting" to get me to love him. I knew Seth so well I hoped it would be him. I didn't have some romantic notion about him being perfect. I liked it. I also had an immense amount of respect for him as a person.
He is the kind of guy that men revere, that grown men turn to for advice. The kind of man that is proceeded by a pastor who says he appreciates him. He's the kind of guy that past girlfriends can't say an ill word of. He was first and foremost the best, most faithful friend I had ever had.
So I married him. I made a choice. I prayed, I asked God if this is what He wanted. He said that it was my choice. And that it would be hard, (marriage to Seth that is). And the He would be with me in it and we would be blessed.
I must say that not having a clear "yes" or "no" about the this infinitesimally important decision was not fun for me. But I knew that I loved Seth more than I had ever loved anyone. I knew He loved God with the same devotion and fervor that I did. I knew we had sparks. Chemistry. Fun. And when it wasn't fun we had solid friendship and made decisions well together. Worked well together. So in the end I married a man by choice, not by destiny. But what has happened since we got married over a year ago is curious. I began to think that not only was this God's perfect design, (for Seth and I to marry) but that Seth and I were truly made for each other. Soul mate seems like the perfect description for the kind of melding we have together. The kind of magic that happens when we're together.
Not everyday is easy. Quite the contrary. We live far below the poverty line (in US standards). We stress from week to week about bills. We get our feelings hurt. We get mad at each other. We don't always agree. But there is a rhythm to our life, our communication and our marriage that is the heart beat to our song. The most beautiful sonnet I've ever heard. A life I couldn't have imagined. It's too beautiful for words...

Gift of Rain

I sat in my living room lit by a dull grey from the window. The clouds were think and the house gloomy. I went into my tiny rectangular kitchen to find the sink full of dishes from the night before. I proceeded to transfer them to the dishwasher. Something about the lightbulb in the kitchen kept me going. I brush cleaned the sink, the counters, the stove. I glanced begrudgingly at the rubbish bin. A full bag of trash, (my husbands job to take out). But i didn't want to look at it a moment longer, and he'd be gone for hours. I lugged the bag full of old food clippings, papers and such out my front door.
As I proceeded down the three flights of steps. I stopped on the landing halfway down. There were three beer bottles that had been an eyesore for a week. I quickly proceeded to add them to my load. When I was about to be greeted by the outside I noticed the last two steps of my journey to the sidewalk were soaked. The wood looked slick with rainwater.
I managed not to slip as I carefully maneuvered down in my flip flops with the trash bag and my little pregnant belly.
I've never been afraid of a little rain and I wasn't about to bring my trash back up to rot. As I walked along the sidewalk to the dumpster I remembered again how much I love rain. There was always something so cleansing and romantic, so pure and perfect about a rainy day.
I felt the gentle spray peppering my arms. I watched as the huge green trees on the other side of the chain link fence blew gently in a soft wind. The sound of rain drops masked any other. Everything felt quiet. As I looked out into the car park it seemed, no one was going anywhere. There was not another soul.
I heard a familiar bird watching me from the trees. It's soft song elated my spirits. I dumped my load in with the other garbage. I took my time as I moseyed back up to my building. I noted the soft pitter patter of rain drops making puddles in the dips in the sidewalk. The cool rain drops on my skin and the general feeling of the world being blanketed and washed. The smell of rain is something I've always loved... That fresh earthy smell like green is growing greener. I took all this in, in a matter of moments and then I felt two feelings unmistakably present.
Peace and Gratitude.
The peace was surrounding me, incasing me in a soft warm blanket of stillness. Steadiness.
And the gratitude, it welt up within me like a mountain stream. I found myself thanking my creator for giving me such a beautiful morning as to be in His creation during a little rain.
I loved every moment.
It's rather remarkable how my creator can change a mundane task like, taking out the trash, into a gloriously magical moment. But He always has. When I was a girl I remember picking up the mail from the mailbox at the end of my parents' property. They have a long driveway that passes by a pond and over a creek on its' way to the mail box across the street. This task took a few minutes and I always cherished it. It meant I got to spend time alone with Jesus in His creation, to feel His peace and joy and still myself from the stresses of the day, whatever those were.
There are so many gifts we've been given everyday. They are free gifts. We have to do nothing to receive them. All we need to do is look, in order to receive them.
 It takes a looking of the spirit. A longing for it.
And we have to stop thinking about our own worries, long enough to accept them. But if you'll look for a gift everyday. An experience. A word. Something special, even small...
I promise you, you'll find it. My God is that good. You might even find it in the rain.

The taste that fits my mouth.

I love tea.
As a child I did tea parties for my birthday 4 years in a row. I wished I was English. I was prim and proper. As a child I chose to take an etiquette class, for fun! I even tried reading parts of a 400+ page book from the 1930s with the title, "Etiquette" (I was ten).
As a homeschooler I chose a Canadian curriculum based on Anne of Green Gables which meant I learned European history more than American. I studied the Kings, the Queens... As I grew I didn't change much. I was not as prim and proper as a teenager, but my love for the English grew stronger. (Too many English authors, movies, BBC, I loved it all).
At age sixteen I became friends with a boyish adventurer from England named Paul. After years of spending time with our family I began to feel like I had a little brother. Now, he is family. I consider him as much my brother as I do my sisters, my blood sisters.
At age 19, I flew across the pond!
For two weeks I enjoyed the company of Paul and his parents. England was all I'd hoped for and more. Someday, I want to go back and live there. Be a true English native. The culture fits me. But until I live there I'll have to settle for the taste that fits my mouth. Nothing tastes more perfect to my tongue than my favorite tea.
Roobis, filling a gold edged English teacup.