Baby Update (2).

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The last (and only) baby update I wrote was when I was 18 weeks pregnant – now? Thursday starts 24 weeks and I’m six months in!

What in the world?

Evie - six months

Evie’s already wearing pink.

Another few weeks and Tom, Evie, Gus and I (yes, this is very much a team effort ;) ) begin the third and, thank God, final trimester.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m enjoying my pregnancy but I’m definitely not one of those women who lives to be pregnant. It’s an odd set of physical limitations to work with. I like manual labor, I really do. I enjoy randomly re-arranging all of the furniture in the house; lifting TV’s, pushing dressers and moving couches.  I like yard work, I like sore muscles and I like cleaning and re-arranging closets, cabinets and corners for hours at a time. I’ve never (ever, ever, ever) been athletic (HA) but I’ve always been active  and pretty strong for a girl. It’s hard for me to just…sit (unless it’s pouring rain and I’m on my porch).

In a way, pregnancy may be the best thing for my spiritual life.

I’m learning stillness.

I can’t lie, it feels a tiny bit like a prison sentence. A mandatory restriction to the couch when I didn’t do anything wrong. Yet, in these days of physical fatigue and extra precautions (read: Tom making me swear not to pick up the bed…again) to keep my body healthy and help keep Evie safe, I’m learning contentment (again) and the value of stillness (again).

Solitude will never be my natural bent. I didn’t grow up with it (oldest of six children) and don’t necessarily crave it (unless I’m sick) but I still need it.

Silence is also speech – Unknown

Silence has spiritual lessons no sounds can teach. I know I miss out on those valuable lessons sometimes. I listen more fully when I’m physically still. I’m remembering that.

We need to find God, and he cannot be found in noise and restlessness.  God is the friend of silence.  See how nature – trees, flowers, grass – grows in silence; see the stars, the moon and the sun, how they move in silence…. We need silence to be able to touch souls.  ~Mother Teresa

More updates; Evie is 8 inches long and  weights about 1.2 pounds. We got to see her little legs kicking and her tiny heartbeat on our ultrasound last month! Some moments I’m so absolutely overwhelmed with love her that I want to cry (thank you, hormones). A few days ago I was at Dunkin’ Donuts (to pick up my…vitamins. Duh) and she kicked me.  That little reminder of her precious life was enough to make me tear up while trying to pay the poor (utterly confused) cashier.

At six months pregnant I crave watermelon. All the time. Sadly watermelon’s are still seven dollars apiece and…I can’t justify that. Come soon, summer watermelon prices, come soon.  I’m still not sleeping much – which makes my full-time job interesting at best and torture at worst. I have started taking naps over my lunch break (errands will just have to wait) which helps. I also finally look pregnant which is fun!

We have our baby registry - I LOVE the bedding we picked out for her. We recently found out we’ll need to move in a year (when Evie’s about seven months old) which changed a lot of my nursery plans. I plan to decorate with pictures, bright bedding and fun colors instead of re-painting the room (since decorative items are portable). I’m so excited about her that I’m even looking forward to having a diaper bag. It’s come to that.

In closing, one funny pregnancy story: last week I was at Target buying a vacuum for a wedding gift. I lifted it into the shopping cart but, when I got to the register, was forbidden to lift it from the cart (by the tiny lady behind me in line). She was sweet and said I “shouldn’t be lifting that” (if only she knew about my re-decorated living room). That was the first time in my pregnancy that anything like that has happened, when I told Tom the story I ended with “it was my first….my first…what IS that called?”. He calmly suggested that I had a received a “pregnant help”. YES. A pregnant help.

Then, the next day I was asked out by a random guy in the Aldi’s parking lot – which is less of a pregnant help and more of a pregnant…what the heck?

The adventure continues.

P.S. In my moments of mandatory stillness this song has been an incredible blessing. Enjoy.

Guest Post: Fun Activities with your Newborn!

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Last week I was able to write a guest post over at Life n’ Stats! The blog is finally live – click on it and leave a comment? I’d love to keep writing for them and, the more views my post guests, the better my chances :) .

Click here to read my post!

Thanks so much for your support everyone, breaking into freelance writing is HARD work. I truly appreciate the kind words, emails and encouragement from all of you as I’m pressing on with something I enjoy so much!

A Letter to my Daughter.

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My precious Evie,

I felt you kicking your little legs last night.

Curled up next to your dad, grieving Boston and coming changes, your innocence brought me hope. Your feet haven’t touched a fallen earth, your fingers haven’t had to wave goodbye, your heart hasn’t been broken.

But all those things will happen, Evie. They’ll happen over and over again while you’re here.

I can’t write that without tears.

Thinking about all the inevitable pain I can’t protect you from. You’re going to grieve, you’re going to lose things that are so precious to you, your heart will be shaken in ways that cut you to your very core.

Since I can’t protect you from everything I’ll do my devoted best to prepare you for life in a shattered world.

I want to say this about faith in Jesus Christ to you, Evie Claire: it’s the heart and soul of your parent’s lives. You are already prayed for every single day; that your limbs would grow strong, organs would develop and that your wild and precious life would, one day, be devoted to Jesus.

We can’t force that belief on you, Daughter (nor would we want too, a forced faith isn’t faith it’s obligation).  You’re not ours to program or mold into our preferred image. You’re ours to discover, to forgive, to show grace too. We’re yours to ask questions of, to wrestle with your faith and struggle through tough issues with.  Don’t be afraid to ask things that shake your world just, please, talk to us about them.

I’ve lived seasons of my life silenced by fear. It’s not the way to go. We will talk with you about anything and everything, Evie. Your faith (or lack of it), your sexuality, your college choices (if you go), your fears and dreams. We will certainly not always have an easy answer but we will wrestle through it with you, we will find our knees in prayer for you and we will hug you so tightly you can’t breathe. You will always have a home with us, somewhere where everything you are belongs.

You’ll meet a lot of people who don’t believe in Jesus. You’ll meet people who have been crushed by others claiming to be Christian’s. You’ll see fights about religious, debates about what to believe (or why you shouldn’t believe anything), you’ll be pelted with arguments for and against every facet of your faith. You’ll have friends who don’t agree, other friends who reject everything they’ve been taught. In the midst of all, look to Jesus.

When Christian’s preach reconciliation and grace and live division and hate, look to Jesus. When your heart is divided between loves, look to Jesus. When you’re terrified that everything you know is slipping away, look to Jesus. When you can’t see him for the mist of the flatlands still gaze towards him, morning will come.  He has promised and, Evie, in my 26 years on earth I’ve found him faithful. Not predictable, easily understood or always visible but eternally faithful.

Can you seem Him, Evie? Can you? His face and body crushed for us? His life an exercise in precisely balanced truth and grace? He is the purest love you’ll ever know. He is The Constant in a world spinning off its axis.

Before you even know Jesus you’ll see him reflected in your daddy and me. That’s a high calling for us, a humble task.

Oh Evie, the first thing your dad did, when we found out you were a girl, was to look up  lists of everything a daughter needs to learn from her dad. He’s got you covered in the life skills department, honey. More importantly,  he will help you see what it means to love like Jesus did, He won’t do it perfectly but he’s committed to it. To you.  He’ll encourage you, tickle you till you laugh so hard you cry, teach you Greek, read you books and hold your tiny hands while he prays over your little bed. I know this because he does all those things for your momma (plus some).

You’ll see so many things that break your heart when you’re here.

Let them break it.

Stay pliable. Stay sensitive. Stay compassionate. Don’t hide behind arguments or anger. Grieve the pain and injustice than jump in to do something about it. Life’s not primarily about you, you are absolutely loved and valuable but your “job” while you’re here is to pour yourself out for the needs and hurts of those around you.

Be a healer, Evie.

Be a woman who helps others. Make a difference in a thousand small ways, they’ll add up to change lives.

I want you to know that life is not about what you wear, how much you weigh or where you work – you’ll meet people who try to convince you it’s about all three. Be the best you possible (you’re one of a beautiful kind), raise your glass in a toast to everything you’ll never be and move on with your life. Don’t waste time agonizing over what you’re not.

Be kind to every person you meet, honey. They all matter as much as you do. You don’t have to (and shouldn’t) let yourself be treated badly or agree with everyone’s actions but each human being deserves your utmost respect. Whether you agree with them or not, whether you like them or not, whether they respect you or not. You’ll have to stand up for unpopular things in your life, Evie. Your convictions may not always be widely accepted but you must never forget that you walk a fine line , balancing grace and truth, that’s suspended over beating hearts. See the person in every human.

There are a lot of big lessons and bigger truths in this letter and, when we meet you in September, Evie, you’re going to be a very little person. It’s all intertwined to me though. The reason you’ll talk to us about the big things is because we were faithful to be your dad and mom in the little things.

There’s so much I don’t know; where you’ll take your first steps, what country you’ll grow up in, how many siblings you’ll have, what your first word will be, what needs you’ll have, where you’ll struggle, how long we’ll have you, how long you’ll have us. So many question marks.

What I know is that every second of every day that we have each other; we’ll be there for you.

Holding you at 3 a.m. Changing another diaper. Teaching you to play with Gus (oh, you’ll love Gus), helping you count the flowers, practicing your letters, letting you be a helper even when you’re doing everything but helping, feeding you cheese, taking care of any special needs you might have, teaching you about life, showing you Jesus (and, oh Evie, you need him to make it through life). Through the in’s and out’s, the up’s and down’s, the everyday mundane. They’ll be rough days, you’ll be sick, I’ll be tired, you’ll be need, I’ll be anxious, you’ll be cranky and I’ll be angry – at times, all three of us will probably be crying but your dad and I will be there.  You’re our girl. Forever.

There’s so much more I want to say but I’ll save it for future letters, future whispers in your newborn ears and future talks when both of us are squished into your bed.

I love you so much,

Mom

Baby Update (1).

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First, bump selfies? Nearly impossible to take (here’s today’s attempt).

FotoFlexer_Photo

Yay, you can see the bump!

I realized last night that I haven’t done a real pregnancy update post and, suddenly, I wanted too.  So, here goes (male readers -you’re welcome to stick around but I’m not under any delusions that this is a post that will thrill you. Don’t worry I’m not the slightest bit offended).

The Bump has finally arrived! We found out about the baby so early (around 4 1/2 – 5 weeks) that it felt like an eternity before there was anything to show for it!  The belly still comes and go’s a little bit but, as Tom said last night, “wow, I can really SEE it now!”.  It seems to be sticking around on a more regular basis.

This week we head into EIGHTEEN weeks of pregnancy. Our ultrasound is scheduled for early April (yes, we’re finding out the gender and yes, we’re telling people) which will officially be the half-way point!

So far I’ve had a great pregnancy. Mild on the nausea and extreme on the fatigue (seriously, around 8:30 most nights Tom asks if he should tuck me into bed. Also, most nights I say yes). I am starting to feel a little more energized but it comes in unpredictable spurts – on Saturday I couldn’t stop checking things off my to-do list. Yesterday? All I could do get out of bed and finish the must-do’s. In theory this gets better? Still waiting for that (though, I will take fatigue over throwing up any day). I’ve been able to keep my full-time job and stay involved in most church, family, small group activities. Very grateful for that.

Currently? I’m slowly gathering ideas for the baby registry/nursery – I don’t like clutter so we plan to just get the essentials and add as we need too. I’m thrilled to (almost) be able to choose some colors and nursery decor. I love Indian needlepoints and prints, turquoise, yellow, gray and navy so I know we’ll be building off those. Here are some ideas of what I’m thinking (all from various places around Pinterest).

We’re desperately trying to decide on a boy’s name (we’ve had our girl’s name since we were dating). We’re both 100% convinced it’s a girl buuuuttttt just to be safe we want a boy’s name too. We’d honestly be thrilled either way. We want boys and girls through a combination of natural birth and adoption – whatever order and way they want to come is fine with us.

Tom has been amazingly patient with me.

I’ve been more emotional about everything and, as already mentioned, a lot more tired. He’s been a faithful provider of back-rub’s, tolerant of the same quick dinners and comforting when I randomly dissolve into a puddle of tears (which, thankfully hasn’t been too often, ha!). His prayers for me and the health and safety of this baby are precious. He’s eagerly waiting for the day when he can feel the baby kick (he checks every night to see if he can feel even a little wiggle!) I’m very grateful for his kindness and provision as my husband and can’t wait to see him snuggle our baby.

I haven’t had any (noticeable) cravings. Early on I couldn’t get enough tomatoes and cheese….but I already ate those. I still hate pickles. No change there, haha. I gave up caffeine (in the form of coffee, I also hate soda) when we found out we were pregnant (I realize this isn’t 100% necessary – it was my personal preference). We’ve also been eating a lot more fruits, veggies and leaner proteins – the result is that, even without morning sickness, I’ve lost ten pounds in the first four 1/2 months. WEIRD. I’ll certainly take it, I was just  a surprise each time I stepped on the scale . I want to be as healthy as possible during this pregnancy (while, umm, still eating frozen yogurt). I’ll gain every oz. the baby needs to thrive but I want to be as intentional as I can to make the rest of my pregnancy, labor, delivery and recovery as  healthy as I personally can. Pray I’m not overwhelmed too regularly by the desire for pasta ;) .

Lately, we’re just getting excited to discover who this baby is. Taking guesses about their little features and personality. Praying that we’ll be able to teach them about grace and unconditional love. Brainstorming art projects and games we’ll get around too eventually. There’s (obviously) so much we don’t know about parenting. Yet, I know in time and with much prayer and practice we’ll figure it out.

Counting down the days to meet you, baby. We love you so much already.

 

We’re All Searching For Something (Part 5).

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Before we get into the hilarious, sobering and all-out confusing list of search terms that have found my blog over the last three months I have a pet peeve I would like to share.

South Carolina drivers: PLEASE MERGE, FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THINGS MERGE.

When there is not enough room remaining in the on-ramp for your BIG TOE to fit (let alone your entire CAR) it’s time to MERGE into an actual lane. When your car teeters precariously between the emergency lane or forest lining the road and the lane it’s time to get over.  When traffic has stalled behind you as you waver between reality and your invisible third lane it’s time to stop texting and merge in with the rest of us.

Ok, I feel better.

Thanks for listening.

Moving on.

1) “no one is old enough for fairy tales”: Au contraire, everyone is old enough for fairy tales.

2) “how to make love”: Courage. Passion. Patience. Flexibility. Time.

3) “longfellows iced coffee”: Venti? Grande? Milk? Cream? Also, just because you didn’t ask, here is a snippet of my favorite Longfellow poem (“Day is Done”).

The day is done, and the darkness
Falls from the wings of Night,
As a feather is wafted downward
From an eagle in his flight.
I see the lights of the village
Gleam through the rain and the mist,
And a feeling of sadness comes o’er me
That my soul cannot resist:
A feeling of sadness and longing,
That is not akin to pain,
And resembles sorrow only
As the mist resembles the rain.

4) “wife loses modesty on honeymoon”: You didn’t clarify but as long as its YOUR wife…I don’t see the problem here?

5) “how to break up a relationship between two christian people”:  Huh. I was almost on your side with words of comfort – then I re-read your search. Don’t be the middle man (or woman) who breaks UP a relationship.

6) “christian i broke up with the love of my life”:  I want to hug you.

7) “insurance adjuster communication motivational posters”: If insurance adjustment is your line of work I would imagine you need all the motivation you can get. Sorry I couldn’t help (I…eerr…think).

8) “fairy tales you can say under 2 minutes”: This one? Be warned, it’s a tearjerker.

9) “shaky hands and unstable body is a result of”: So. many. things. You should probably see a doctor (also, you probably found my blog because of this post).

10) “home schooling jumpers cool”: I rocked a denim (and, seperately, a floral)  jumper back in the day. Never again. I’ve written about them though.

11) “things that inspire me to write poem when im at the beach”: EVERYTHING.

12) “giving up swimsuit modesty”: Please don’t.

We Helped Each Other Through.

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Everything is blooming most recklessly; if it were voices instead of colors, there would be an unbelievable shrieking into the heart of the night.  ~Rainer Maria Rilke

If you came to the blog today and your first thought was not SPRING!!  Well then, I have failed. There wasn’t a more vibrant floral pattern to choose from or it would be proudly displayed.

I love seasons.

I’m glad I didn’t migrate so far south that seasons ceased to exist (say that sentence five times fast).

The best part of a new season is the anticipation, the way the world holds its breath on the cusp of change. Sometimes I think fall is my favorite, sometimes it’s spring. Rarely summer but, you know, it still has its perks (primarily: sunsets, fireflies and strawberry popsicles).

Winter is when the world hibernates, all the life sinks slowly underground. There I imagine it being cradled, warmed, patched and rejuvenated so it can burst forth in pink blossoms, bumblebees and lacy ferns.

I’m ready for that.

I’m tired of my purple coat, I’ve worn out the heels on my winter shoes and if there’s one more Sunday when it’s not warm enough to eat breakfast pancakes on the porch I might cry.

The first day of spring is Wednesday, March 20th. EIGHT DAYS, people. Eight days.

I’ve already unpacked our shorts (Tom is rejoicing), hung up the sheer, springtime curtains (I was rejoicing), Tom bought me white roses to get me through the last days of winter (oh, he also bought me a chocolate Easter bunny…which didn’t make it to spring). We’re ready.

Spring is even more meaningful to me this year.

The new life on the azalea’s, daffodils and ferns in my “garden” (read: small pots and plots of land in front of our trailer) are such beautiful reminders of the new life I’m carrying. They’re visible reminders that a baby grows, nestled safe, invisible to all but Heaven’s eyes.

In just a few more weeks we find out if the babe is a boy or girl!   We honestly don’t have a preference. Sometimes we hope it’s a girl, sometimes we want a boy. We’ll be blissfully happy with either (although, we both kind of think it’s a girl). We’re finalizing names, talking nursery colors – enjoying the planning.

There are times I’m still afraid. Fearful of losing the baby, uncertain of how our financial future will work out, nervous about the changes and the pain to come.

The vice that was on my heart so much of January and February though has loosened.

Why are we so afraid to say we’re afraid?

Fear is part of the human experience. It’s part of life in a broken world of crumbling earth and uncertainty. It’s alright to feel fear,  it’s when we’re wooden and unattached that we’re actually the most vulnerable. Brittle things shatter when they break. Vulnerability, opening our hearts despite loss, despite grief, is what keeps us tender.

God, I want to be tender.

We had a little scare last week. During our fifteen week check-up they couldn’t find the baby’s heartbeat with the doppler. My midwife heard lot’s of “fetal movement” (all I heard was…whooshing) which was only mildly comforting.

When your primary reassurance that all is well is a tiny heartbeat and that heartbeat can’t be found it’s nerve-wracking. They looked for fifteen minutes with two different doppler’s but they just couldn’t find it.

After leaving the office we prayed. And cried. And waited.

That night sweet friends met up with us (this little one is already so loved). They prayed with us and let me cry some anxious tears. They helped me through.

I don’t know how to live life any way other than that.

To be helped. To be a helper.

Isn’t that the purpose of community?

When my life is over I want to be known as a woman who helped people, in whatever ways she could. People like that have made all the difference in my life.

This little snippet of poetry strikes me both as reckless and inspirational. I wouldn’t give alms to all who ask and I hate that it uses the word stupid (pet peeve) yet, it beautifully summarizes the life of a helper; centered on other people. 

Love the earth and sun and animals,
Despise riches, give alms to everyone that asks,
Stand up for the stupid and crazy,
Devote your income and labor to others…
And your very flesh shall be a great poem.
~Walt Whitman

I want to be a helper. I want my flesh to be a great poem.

We went back to the birth center the next day and our sweet midwife found the heartbeat almost the second the doppler touched me (our child is already stubborn).

… but what if she hadn’t found it?

That’s the uncertainty of life, that’s why the reality of Christ’s comfort is my rock and that is why we need the helpers. We need each other.

Accepting that grief and rejoicing are both part of life has been my bridge between life as an emotionless robot and days spent as an emotional basket case.

It’s a process for me. A daily remembering. A whispered prayer when I find myself tipping to an extreme. Holding someone’s hand when I feel numb.

It’s both humbling and comforting to admit how much I’m helped along the way. Yet there, there is also freedom. And, there in the humble place, is also the courage and determination to help others.

Happy (almost) spring.