One Year Ago Today...

I read this letter to Abi Kate this morning about an hour before her "real" birthday. She laid on me and listened, then babbled and jumped and called for the dogs to come over to her-- everything I'd expect her to do. :) 

To my sweet baby girl,

                You are one today. A full 365 days old. It’s hard to believe that you have arrived at this point already. I remember bringing you home and snuggling you tight and thinking about you being a one year old little girl-- it seemed so preposterous, so distant. But here you are, older and intelligent and beautiful . So many days I’ve sat back and watched you growing. I watched you when you were small beginning to fill up the swing’s seat a little more, watched your surprised face when you rolled over for the first time, watched you figure out that you could propel yourself across the floor to reach a toy. Now, I sit and watch you look at books, turning the pages and talking out loud as if you’re telling your own story. Time with you has been like water running through my fingers. I’ve tried to hold it all in my hands, keeping it with me; but just like water does, time found the cracks and crevices and has slipped on through.

                Your arrival and your life has changed my heart in ways that I struggle to express. My words won’t do justice to the beauty that you’ve brought about, but I will try anyway…..

I remember the 2 months before you began growing within me, when each pregnancy test told me no. I cried out of fear and out of selfishness. I’ve always loved control. I hope you aren’t that way. This was the beginning, when Christ started calling my heart to surrender, to surrender to His will, His timing, and His control.

I remember the extreme excitement I felt mixed with fear when I found out I was carrying you. So many of my friends have had tragedies in their pregnancies, and I feared this with you. I set goals for myself-- I could stop worrying once I reached the first 7 week ultrasound and saw your heartbeat. When I saw your little heart flickering, the joy spilled over into tears. But that wasn’t enough. A new set of worries came. So, I told myself I could stop worrying after I heard your heartbeat.  That sound. I will never forget it. Waiting in anticipation, praying that they’d find you, that you would be lively within me…. You were. But that wasn’t enough and a new set of worries appeared again. So I told myself that after the first trimester was over, I could stop worrying, stop analyzing every pain that made me think I might be losing you.  And yet, that wasn’t enough either. So, my 18 week ultrasound became my next goal. I laid in bed one night while your Daddy prayed over me and you. I told him I was afraid, afraid I would love you so much and you would go once I did. He told me to love you without restraint anyway, so I did. My heart was always meant to love you. I know that. Even when I tried to hold back because I was scared I would never be ok again if I lost you…. Even then, I couldn’t stop myself from falling in love with you. Once again, God called me to surrender. To surrender my worries and my need for control, to surrender the one thing I held so dear and to trust Him and His plans. That one thing was you.

I remember when I let go and trusted your Creator. It was so liberating and a little scary, stepping out in faith alone, faith that He would see you through until completion.

I remember the weeks of carrying you, even the difficult ones, with fondness. I loved being pregnant. I loved waking up and watching my stomach stretch and grow. I loved that I needed bigger clothing-- it was proof there was life within me. I’d always wondered what I’d look like pregnant, what it would feel like to have a baby squirming inside. It seemed so surreal that it was happening to me. I treasured those moments. Carrying you was the fulfillment of so many dreams.

I remember the weeks of pregnancy, reading and preparing for your birth. So many women don’t make choices in their births, and it’s not because they don’t care. They just simply don’t know. But I knew, and when you know better you do better. So, we planned a natural birth for you-- no interventions, no medicine, no IVs, no beds, no monitors, and no hospital except for delivery.  

I remember the anticipation and fear I felt, wondering if I’d be able to make it without pain medication. Fearing that other people would be right, that what I’d planned for you wouldn’t come  about because I’d be too weak. They’d forgotten about the strength found in the Savior, and so had I. But He reminded me a few weeks later.

I remember when the contractions began at 35 weeks and thinking that you’d be coming early. I remember my appointment with my midwife that week where she thought the same thing-- my body was preparing and showing signs, your head was engaged, and yet you waited. You are living proof that you like to do things right on time, my love.   

I remember one night at 37 weeks pregnant when contractions started and kept coming for two hours. I remember waiting for that magical trifecta-- longer, stronger, and closer together. I remember they began to fall into that pattern. Then just as quickly as they’d arrived, they stopped.  The waiting grew harder.

I remember two days before going into labor, longing to meet you. It wasn’t a desire to not be pregnant anymore. Even when I was humongous, and I felt pretty sure you were going to fall out of me at any moment because you were so low, I still loved pregnancy. But I just couldn’t wait to see your face, to hold you, for all of the work my body had been doing in previous weeks to come to fruition.

I remember the day proceeding labor, 2 days before your due date. I remember spending time with your Daddy that day. We watched movies and hung around the house. I cleaned and he took pictures of me while I swept. Later that night, when contractions seemed to be changing, I texted our doula, Gaylea, to let her know. She told me it sounded like we might be having a baby that night and to go to bed. I followed the rules. Your Daddy didn’t.

I remember the anticipation, the difficulty I had falling asleep that night. But somehow, sleep came to me until 12:46. I remember waking up and going to the bathroom, coming back to bed and looking at the clock. 12:48. I remember how hard it was to get into bed at that point because I was so big. I remember the gush of water that came when I sat down, racing to turn on the light to check, and hollering for your Daddy.

I remember him running into our bedroom. I will never forget his face. He was so excited. He had just turned off the TV and was getting ready to come to bed when I called for him. Sleep would have to wait. You had different plans for us that night.

I remember the significance of that night- my labor beginning where conception began. My pregnancy coming to an end in the same place that your life first started. Two beginnings- yet one beginning closing and another one was unraveling into life.

I remember the contractions, working through them in the darkness of our house. I remember being stunned by their raw intensity. But I wanted to feel everything, to complete this journey with you. It was so hard, but God was so faithful. It was a continuation of the surrender He’d begun in my heart months before. His peace was present, even palpable. It was intimate, and He taught me much on my knees.

I remember looking at your Daddy while I labored, just the two of us alone, and loving him intensely in that moment- for doing what I could not. The years of togetherness giving him the wisdom to know what I needed, even when I couldn’t speak it. I remember his touch on my shoulder, his voice when he prayed, and his arms that helped me stand through the pain. I remember the peace that was in his eyes. I have loved him for so many years, but maybe most at this moment. I hope you experience this one day.

I remember the car ride to the hospital. I was complete 10 minutes after we left the house.I knew it. I didn’t need to be checked to confirm it. I felt so connected to you, so connected to what was happening to my body in those hours. When we passed the Smyrna Airport, I knew you were ready to meet your new world.

I remember the great relief when we arrived at Vanderbilt and your quick arrival- 11 minutes later. True to your character, when you’re ready to do something, you do it right then.

I remember them placing you on my chest as soon as you were born. Your cord was still pulsing and your cry filled up the room. I remember examining your face and those precious little lips in the shape of an “O”, quivering and screaming. Even now, when you cry, your face looks exactly the same as the first time I saw it, and I go right back to that hospital bed in room 9.

I remember the surreal feeling- I couldn’t believe that you were finally here... Looking at you and thinking how much I had to learn about you.

And oh, how I remember the love. My girl. My precious baby that I’d felt and waited for my entire life. The tangible proof of God’s goodness, of the love He cultivated in the heart of your Daddy and me. You literally took my breath away. You still do.

I remember looking up at your Daddy beside me and saying, “We made it! No drugs!” It was such a feeling of accomplishment, that the 3 of us had run this marathon and won together. There is a saying that parents would take on any amount of pain so their child would be safer and happier. This was one of my first gifts to you--choosing the pain so you could have a gentle arrival. And I would do it all again a thousand times over. You were worth it.

I remember 1:00 that day. Everyone was gone. Your Daddy had finally fallen asleep after being awake for over 24 hours. It was just you and me. I held you and wept. I couldn’t believe you were mine. You were better than I expected, more than I’d prayed for.

I didn’t feel that overwhelming sense of “What do we do now?” when we brought you home. I felt so comfortable with you, comfortable just loving you.

I remember the first few weeks, this indescribable bond that emerged as we learned what you liked and what you didn’t, felt out your personality, and became more connected to you than we ever imagined.

I remember watching your cheeks grow. You were so chunky. I never imagined I’d have a chubby baby and I loved every single roll!

I remember when you started chatting and cooing all the time. I knew you were going to be a talker. I waited in anticipation to hear your voice, to hear a real word come out, and when it did I was blown away.

I remember the mornings spent in physical therapy with you, reminding myself of the things that God was teaching me. I loved watching other people who had no previous connection to us invest themselves in you and your well-being. It was so humbling.

I remember simple days at home just watching you grow and develop, and the excitement that I found when you achieved simple things-- sitting up, reaching for toys, a new tooth. I am so grateful I have these treasured memories with you.

I remember asking questions to my family & friends, wanting to do what was best for you. Second guessing myself, hitting my knees in prayer, talking with your Daddy about a thousand different things regarding childrearing. Your life has taught me how great my need is--the need to dwell in the presence of the Savior.

I remember rocking you at night, even months after you were born, even now…. And just crying when I watched you slip into sleep. Sometimes I see you from across the room and my heart fills up so much that I don’t think I can stand it, and the tears flow as I remember these moments with you.

All these memories, etched in my heart. Even if my brain forgets, my heart will always remember. I cannot tell you the insurmountable love I have for you, Abi Kate. I pray that God gives you a daughter one day so you can experience it for yourself. You are exquisite.

I love you for being you. I love you when I see traits of your Daddy and me inside you. I love your unique personality and your pleasant disposition. But I love you for more than just this-- I love you because Christ used you to reach me when I was unreachable. Oh, I’ve never been really out of His reach, I know. But I had steeled myself against things that He’d been calling me to for years, things He wanted me to surrender, a faith He wanted to blossom, a heart He wanted to prune. I am humbled that He would use you, use my own child, to quicken my heart and my life to Him, to teach me the beauty of surrender.

My doula told me countless times while I was pregnant that I was giving birth not only to my child but to my motherhood. I did my best to get a grasp on what that meant, but I didn’t truly understand until I had you in my arms. The way we prepared for your birth, the way it played out-- that has fashioned the way that we've parented you. It taught me to be bold in my choices, to question ideas and research, to trust the decisions that we make for you, and to be an advocate for you in every way. But most importantly, it taught me to rely on the One who has all the answers already. You ushered me into motherhood so gently and easily, and I am so grateful to you for that.

Your name fits you perfectly, the name we picked out long before you were conceived, before we were ever even married. Abigail means “The joy of the Father”  and Kate means “Pure.” This is you-- you possess these qualities. I pray so often that your life will continue to bring joy to your Heavenly Father. That you will seek after Him and live as a pure and holy vessel, that your identity would be found in Calvary’s cross.

One year ago today, I couldn’t have known the love I now feel, the fulfillment I experience, the gratefulness and growth that has taken up residence in my soul. You have spurred on this change, Abigail. You have given our lives this great new meaning. And we love you desperately.

Happy first birthday, Abi Kate! We are so thankful for your sweet life. You are our most priceless gift. 

Bellies, Babies, and Christmas

And Mary said,

  "My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, for he has looked on the humble estate of his servant. For behold, from now on all generations will call me blessed; for he who is mighty has done great things for me; and holy is his name. And his mercy is for those who fear him from generation to generation.He has shown strength with his arm;he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts;he has brought down the mighty from their thrones and exalted those of humble estate; he has filled the hungry with good things, and the rich he has sent away empty. He has helped his servant Israel, in remembrance of his mercy, as he spoke to our fathers, to Abraham and to his offspring forever."

      ~ Luke 1:46-55

I love this scripture. I love its context and what it signifies. As we enter the Christmas season, I can’t help but be drawn into this verse. It sends my thoughts wandering, contemplating Mary’s experience with pregnancy and childbirth. Christmas does this to me now. At this time last year, I was preparing for Abi Kate’s arrival. As I began spiritually preparing myself for childbirth, I kept coming back to this verse. This verse is, in fact, one of the reasons Tommy & I decided to trust birth, to trust the perfect design of an omnipotent and sovereign Creator.  As we considered what our culture says about birth and compared that to the way that our Holy God chose to bring His own perfect, unblemished Son into the world, we found ourselves at a crossroads because we saw two very different pictures. This image of Christ’s birth was so purposeful and compelling that I even had Christmas worship songs on my labor playlist.

If you know me, you know it doesn’t take much to get me talking about birth. Mention just about anything pregnancy or birth related and we can sit down and chat for a reaaaaallllyyy long time, so it’s really not a stretch that this verse would bring my thoughts back around to this. If you knew me a few years ago, you’d know that I would never have considered a natural delivery. Much less would I have thought of it as a sanctifying process. If you’d told me I’d be joining together with a group of precious women to inform others about Christ’s great plan for birth, I probably would’ve laughed in your face. In fact, I used to say, “I want to enjoy giving birth to my child and remember it. Why would I ever want to have that awful experience?!” I hate that I looked at birth like that, and I really hate that I spoke those words because they were wrapped up in so much ignorance.  They were ideas engrained by a culture that perceives birth as a sickness, as a risk, as something that we need to keep under control and manage by our own standards (standards that we humans came up with).  Ideas founded in fear-- fear of pain and fear that results because we have willingly adopted the idea that we have to handle the pain alone, that there’s no help or relief from that pain outside of a human created narcotic. Please don’t misunderstand, I’m NOT a pain medicine Nazi. I know the pain of labor, I have felt it and lived it, and I’d be lying if I didn’t say that I have some anxiety about experiencing that pain again (though I know that I will choose to do it the same way). But what I normally hear when discussing birth is, “I could never do that. I don’t like pain.” But the truth is-- who likes pain!? I’m no masochist. A sinus headache can just about do me in. I’ve also heard the idea that natural birth is only for feminists or is a form of “feminist machoism” which is just not true and is completely insulting. I’m not a feminist and I’m definitely not macho. I dropped a bottle of vitamins on my foot this morning and almost cried because it hurt so bad.  But labor pain is different because it is purposeful. And while I’d be the first to toss you a bottle of Advil for a headache, I just can’t apply that to birth. We live in a world that automatically assumes that you have to have pain medicine to have a memorable, positive birth--that you are foolish to attempt to do it without. But I am completely convinced that this picture of birth can look so different in the life of a believer. I know this because I know that the pain of birth is manageable when you look to the Creator of birth.

One of my friends labored for 26 hours and gave birth after hours of pushing-- no pain meds. That’s right, friends-- 26. She did it again two years later saying, “Thank you, Jesus” through contractions. Another friend labored and delivered with no intervention after 3 hours starting with a water break (Don’t be confused here…. If you know much about birth, you know that short labors don’t mean less pain. There’s no gradual shift over time of increasing pain-- it just starts off extremely intense and moves on from there, especially when there’s no water bag as a cushion). And still another friend labored and delivered without pain medication in an extra room in the hospital because there was no room in the regular rooms (Um, stable in Bethlehem anyone?!). Each one of them waited those long days for labor to begin on its own, when pregnancy was hard and trying. And they didn’t do this because they’re feminists or because they like pain. They didn’t wait for labor because they’re laid back and schedule-less girls. It’s not because they are so strong and impressive. And while I am certainly impressed and terribly proud of them, I know that they managed that pain, waited on Christ’s timing, because they let their fear be replaced with faith. Even though I cried from sheer excitement when I got the messages that their babies were here and they’d done it without intervention, I know they didn’t do it in their own strength. They looked to the cross, to the Creator of their child and of the process of birth, and they pulled their strength from the Ultimate Source. They didn’t create peace in their own power, they let the author of peace fill their hearts and draw them close to His. And oh, how He made good on His promises! He sustained them in childbirth (1 Tim. 2:15), He did not leave them or forsake them while they were in need (Deut 31:8), and in the midst of pain and uncertainty about how long it would take and how they could keep going, He quieted them with His love (Zeph. 3:17). This is the beautiful picture of childbirth. It is not a screaming chaos where everyone’s life hangs in the balance. This is the sanctifying process that He will bring us to if we will let Him-- if we will let The Creator call our child from the womb at the time that He has prepared for them instead of forcing them to come in our time, if we will trust that His grace is enough to surpass any amount of worldly pain, if we believe that our light and momentary troubles are nothing compared to the surpassing knowledge of knowing Christ Jesus our Lord.

There’s plenty of reasons people choose to deliver naturally. There were a lot of reasons for me, personally. I could tell you about the risks of interventions, but honestly, you don’t have to look far at all to find those on your own.(And as a tangent, if you have a care provider who tells you there are no risks from induction, pain medicine, episiotomy, IV fluids, etc. they have just lied to your face. Do not walk out of their office. Run. That or they are not practicing evidence-based medicine and they haven’t read a medical journal published in the last 10 years. Which is another really good reason to run.) I’m not saying one reason is better than the other, but I want to look at it from a Christ-centered perspective, not from the other reasons. I’m also not suggesting that you can’t have a Christ-centered birth unless you have an intervention-free delivery. That’s not true either. And yes, I am completely, 100% aware that there are true medical reasons for intervention, and I do believe that some of them are completely warranted and necessary. I’m a believer in birth choices, not just one way. I may one day arrive at a place where the benefits of an intervention outweigh the risks. It’s a definite possibility. And I know that Christ’s power in birth is not lessened because of an intervention by any means. But what does break my heart is the way that birth is viewed by so many women, what they’re missing out on because of fear or a culturally centered perspective. That so many women look back and speak of their experiences as awful, terrifying, chaotic, and the worst thing they’ve ever gone through.

Long before the invention of pitocin, epidurals, spinal blocks, and Cytotec; before the weekly doctor appointments and cervical checks (which by the way are not good indicators of when labor will begin), before we took what we as humans studied and learned and applied those ideas to birth, there was a design by a far more intelligent Creator whose “ways are not our ways” who thoughts “are much higher than our own” (Is. 55:8-9) And in this time, He brought forth His own perfect child in the way that HE deemed best. Mary didn’t need medicine to bring Jesus at 40 weeks gestation. Jesus came when it was the right time, called out by the Father. She labored in pain, no doubt, and her child was born. There was nothing extra strong about Mary, just like there’s nothing extra strong about women in our generation who long for a natural birth. She was a sinner in need of a Savior in the same way that we are. And the power of the Heavenly Father was magnified in her, in a stable, not surrounded by doctors and nurses but by her husband. I have no doubt that Mary experienced many spiritual truths and growth through that birth-- that she saw the faithful hand of God once again in her life, that she saw His perfect plan that was hard but purposeful, that she found humility in her position as the creation and not the Creator.  

When I looked at the Magnificat, I couldn’t escape what it pictured- Mary’s willingness to accept God’s plan in pregnancy & birth and declare Him holy in hardship. It was so powerful to me that it was one of the scriptures I wrote on an index card that Tommy read to me in labor. And after birth, it is even more applicable to me.  God truly looked upon the “humble estate of His servant” (v.48) on January 27. He did “great things for me” because of His “holy name” (v. 49) not because of my strength.  He scattered the pride found “in the thoughts of my heart” (v. 51). The first hour of labor, I let fear grip me. My water broke, I felt that first contraction, and thought, “What have you gotten yourself into?!” I made it through each contraction in my own prideful strength, and it was hard. So hard. But around 4:30 am, when I let go and let the pain take me where it needed to, when I embraced the idea of surrender and found myself in a place of complete humility, aware that I was in no way capable of completing the task ahead in and of myself, when I whispered that prayer, “I can’t. Please help me,” He was there in an instant. There was unspeakable peace and intimacy with my Savior. And though the pain intensified quickly and greatly, the ability to cope was stronger than the pain. And when Satan tried to pull me down in that last hour and I felt like I might not be able to endure, I was surrounded by two people who reminded me that Christ’s power rested on me and dwelled within me, and because of His great love and faithfulness, yes I could and would do it. And His mercy that was for each generation (v .50), reached all the way down through time, even to me.  He beautifully displayed the “strength of His arm” (v. 51) in Abi Kate’s birth. I am reminded of that regularly. He didn’t just do this for me or the women I know or for the mother of Jesus, He has done this for countless women before me and after me. When I’ve shared her birth story, I’ve shared and love Spurgeon’s statement, “We are welcome guests at the table of promises.” And oh, how we are- even in birth we are welcome to take part and feast on the kindness that He has wrapped us in. It is truly magnificent. After Abi Kate’s birth my doula/childbirth educator/friend told me, “You chose faith instead of fear and Jesus instead of drugs. And you were blessed by the choices.”  These blessings, they are free for the taking for us as believers.

To me, birth is like any other aspect of life for the believer-- it is faith in action. We make faith applicable in dealing with work, school, people, sickness, big things, small things-- why not this, too? And just like many aspects of Christianity, our culture looks at that, shudders and says, “Why?! That’s ridiculous.” The truth is, you can have a natural delivery and not experience the great blessings and lessons that Christ longs to teach. You can go through it completely unchanged and just have “made it through” and be proud in yourself that you were “strong enough.” But that’s not what I’m talking about. Likewise, you could have a birth that ends in a C-section and still be taught and have walked the path of sanctification, allowing God to have His rightful place in your pregnancy and in your child’s arrival. The exact circumstances & conditions aren’t specific. The attitude of the heart, embracing God’s strength and plan, letting go of what’s culturally “right, safe, and acceptable,” the surrender-- that’s what is vital.   

   

I was talking with a fellow birth-obsessed friend (Sorry, sister! You know I love you!) recently about the goodness God shows us. We talked about how amazing it is that the pain that was brought about as a punishment for sin so long ago in the Garden could be used to create such precious moments of strengthened faith and communion with the Savior now. Only God would do that. Only He would give that to us, turning a punishment for something we deserved into something beautiful.  It is the ideal picture of the character of God, of His mercy for His children, of freedom from the burden of sin. My prayer is that as we enter the Christmas season, we would remember the beauty of a holy God’s design. I pray that we would allow that design to completely rewrite what we have previously thought about birth, that we would have faith in Him and His capable plans; and that we, as believers, would be changed in more ways than one by the high privilege and calling of birth and parenthood. 

The Great Joy Sucker

Abi Kate will be 9 months old tomorrow. "Time flies" is an understatement. In light of that, my mind has been on how God has used her in such a short time to bring me to a more steadfast love for Him....

 A few months ago at Abi Kate's 4 month check up, her pediatrician very casually asked us a question. In the moment, I had no clue that this simple question would be a great "joy sucker" for me. If I had, I probably would've been on my knees much longer that morning. He asked us if she normally held her head tilted to the side. No big deal, right? I told him that she did sometimes, but not always. He very casually mentioned that she may have a tightening of the muscles in her neck, physical therapy would loosen it over time, and just to keep an eye on it and if we didn't see improvement within a few weeks to call him back. It was funny that he mentioned that because as soon as he drew attention to it, we noticed it. Often. Most of the time, in fact. I wasn't overly concerned about it. I'd looked it up online (this is a BAD idea friends. Do not follow this example). It seemed that he was suggesting that she had torticollis. Of course, my initial thought was, "Oh no. Something is wrong with my child." But her pediatrician was very calm about it (which I am ever grateful for), said it could just be developmental as she was learning to hold her head up completely, and so I told myself just to be at peace. I left his office feeling pretty confident and ok. We took her back about a month later, he said it was torticollis (though only a mild case), and he scheduled us to meet with a pediatric physical therapist. Nothing major. I asked him to please tell me what had caused it and he told me basically what I'd read about it-- often it's from positioning in utero (to which I said "Thanks a lot, uterus. Thanks a lot."), it could be just a preference that she developed over time, or it could be from birth trauma. Birth trauma was immediately ruled out. So we started considering the first option, her positioning inside of me. When she was born she had an asymmetrical nose (basically, it was smushed on one side.)

       *Look at that sweet little smooshed nose!*
Almost as soon as she was born, I looked at our doula who is also an RN and said, "Her nose?!" and then repeated that same question when her pediatrician came to do a check on her the next morning. Cute as it was, as new parents we were mildly concerned. They both assured us it was simply from how she'd laid against the uterine wall and it would pop out over time. They were right. :)

* A few days later, more popped out but still a little smooshy. (Oh my soul, how was she this tiny?! Tears..)*

               *And about 2 weeks later, her precious little button nose was completely "normal".*

Long story short, the way her head would've been tilted inside me for her nose to be flat coincided with the way that her neck chose to stay tilted.
In general, I was grateful that this was the only "problem." There are so many parents with sick babies, difficult pregnancies, truly traumatic experiences. This was just a tightening of muscles, it wasn't preventable,  and it simply required a bit of physical therapy and some stretching. Or at least this is how I felt at the beginning.

Abi Kate began therapy in July and went once a week. We adored her therapists. They loved on her like she was theirs. They snuggled her and kissed her and were so gentle. There's nothing better than to see someone else genuinely caring for your child. They taught us stretches to do at home; we did them religiously. We didn't broadcast it simply because people didn't seem to understand the diagnosis. That's ok-- I wouldn't have either I'm sure. A few times we got, "Oh I bet it's because she didn't do enough tummy time. Or she was in her swing a lot."  Which those things can lead to a predisposition towards torticollis, but that just wasn't the case for her. She hated tummy time, which we now understood why. But we did it, and I wore her from the minute she was big enough to be worn (which is also a form of tummy time).

                                                                       *1 week old!*

 In addition, Tommy and I never subscribed to the theory that you could spoil a newborn by holding it. The swing and bouncy seat were nice occasionally, but not used for hours on end. (Seriously, she slept on us for the first two weeks of her life. Tsk, tsk, I know.) I mean, we were ridiculously in love with this child. Why wouldn't we hold her as often as we could?! And 9 months later, now that she moves and crawls and jumps and wiggles and doesn't want to be held most of the time, I'm so grateful we soaked up those moments and held her as close as we could as often as we did.

We also heard, "Oh, just turn her neck and make her look this way." Which is nice in theory. But it's kinda like telling a blind person to just open up their eyes so they can see. It's not that they don't want to, they just can't. Really, people were just trying to be helpful and understand. But I was already grappling with the idea that I had carried my child inside "incorrectly" and it resulted in needing therapy. So everything sounded like it was my fault, something that we could've avoided if we'd done things the "right way". It is funny to see how quickly the enemy snuck in and started turning something that I initially felt wasn't a big deal into something that was a *BIG* deal for me.

It started just like I said... I started thinking that I hadn't carried her "right". I went through a laundry list of things that I tried to do to protect her and offer her a great start. I took prenatal vitamins for a few months before trying to conceive to make sure my body had what it needed, I used natural remedies when I was sick during pregnancy, I took 1 Tylenol my entire pregnancy, I was regularly adjusted, and we'd chosen to birth her with no medication to keep her safe from the side effects of pitocin and anesthesia. But somehow, I kept those thoughts at bay for awhile. She was making quick progress in therapy, she loved playing while she was there, and so it was easy to put it out of my mind.

She had been in therapy for about a month when she turned 6 months old. If you know anything about child development, you know that this particular month is a really rich month of growth-- both physical and cognitive. She was sitting up, trying to move from sitting to prone, grabbing toys out of her reach. And the stretches we had to do became hard. She hated them and would scream and cry while we did them. It broke my heart. I've never been one to cry when she cries. I didn't cry when she had her blood drawn, when she had a shot, etc. I know that babies just cry-- it's how they communicate. But this was different. She struggled against me and I knew the stretches were uncomfortable. They didn't hurt, but they were working those tightened muscles. I remember one afternoon just crying with her and telling her I was sorry because I felt like it was my fault. She wouldn't have to do the stretches if I hadn't done something wrong. I knew logistically that this was incorrect. But I couldn't stop that tidal wave of emotion, and my thoughts just started spinning. I didn't identify it.1 Peter 5:8 should've bolted into my mind. "Your adversary the devil prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour."  But it didn't.

Abi Kate's pregnancy and birth were times of heavy spiritual growth for me. They were refining for my faith and the Father used them to draw me to Himself. On the morning of January 27, I needed the physical presence of Christ in a way that I'd never needed Him before. And just like He promised, even when I doubted, He showed up and sustained me. He delivered me, He comforted me, He quieted me with His love. He offered peace in the pain and calm in the chaos. He answered every tiny thing that we prayed, and I was overcome. I still struggle to explain adequately what her birth meant for me on a spiritual level. I will never forget the hours of intimacy with Christ in our home while I labored. Nine months later and I still can't talk about it without tears. God used those hours to magnificently display his faithfulness to me, His sovereignty, and to show me, a lover of control, how beautiful surrender truly is. In 5 hours He showed me things about Himself that I hadn't learned in 17 years of following Him. It only makes sense that this is where the enemy would begin his "devouring." And on that afternoon while Abi Kate cried and I cried for her, I shamefully started to doubt.  I doubted our decisions. I forgot what He had showed me not so long ago, and I started to look for control.

I began to doubt the birth choices Tommy and I had made. Decisions we'd labored over. Prayed over. But I questioned them just the same. We'd considered home birth with her early in my second trimester, but things didn't pan out and we didn't feel peace about it. I started thinking that if I'd had her at home, I could've delivered her as soon as I needed. I wouldn't have fought against pushing in order to make it to Vanderbilt. Maybe if I'd gone to a nearer hospital.... There were so many if's....  Maybe she was too big for my body to carry and maybe this would happen to all of our children. Maybe I hadn't paid enough attention. Looking back at her pictures from her first week on,  it was SO easy to spot it. Things that I had originally looked at and thought, "She doesn't hold her head up completely yet." I even emailed our doula asking if something had happened during her birth that I'd done ( to which she patiently told me that home birth couldn't have prevented it, going to another hospital wouldn't have fixed it, and nothing had happened in her delivery-- all hands were off her when she arrived. No pulling or guiding. She was simply caught by the midwife.) But there was still this incessant need to know what I had done. And what I didn't recognize in the moment was that at the center of all that, there was a huge crowning and loving of self.  What had I done? Not what He had done. Why did I decide that? Not what He had led us to. Graciously, Christ used His people to point me back to His wisdom and to point out my position. Tommy pointed me to scripture, and I remember the words of one particular friend verbatim. "God's hands were all over her birth. Don't forget that."

Through this process, I realized that even though I'd acknowledged His strength and utter holiness, I had somehow managed to keep myself elevated to a position of control. I had allowed the enemy to suck the joy from one of the greatest cornerstone moments of my life. And how easily he'd been able to because of my great love for myself. My great need for control. The same things that Christ had broken me of 6 months before, on my knees in my living room at 4 am while the rest of the world went on with their day. I ignored what Christ had prevented, the health that He had given my child, and had made it about my actions-- this one small thing that I couldn't control. In the ease of my everyday life, in my lack of attention to the spiritual war that is always raging around me, I didn't give credence to "the immeasurable greatness of his power toward us who believe, according to the working of his great might.." (Eph 1:19). It was a humbling moment from a merciful God. Walking in humility is something that I continue to struggle with, and I imagine I always will (parenting is a good help with that! haha). It is still amazing to me the amount of ignorance I foster about my love for myself and how I easily go from day to day without recognizing how incapable I am and how sovereign He is. I am grateful for His unending kindness that leads me to repentance.

God showed His faithfulness even in my shallowness...Something that never ceases to touch my soul. Abi Kate was released from therapy in September. And in that time God reminded me to make much of Him and to make little of myself.  Much to the surprise of her therapists, she never presented with or developed any physical delays as children with torticollis often do. We weren't surprised. :) He is good.

     *Her tilty little neck ;)*

                                                                      * Still there...*

                                                                    * And now... :)  *

One of the scriptures that resonated with me from the moment I read "pregnant" on the at-home test to the present moments of our lives with Abi Kate.... The scripture painted in her room because I identify it as hers. It spoke perfectly to this experience. "The Lord has done GREAT things for us, and we are filled with JOY." Psalm 126:3

Things You Should NOT Say To A Pregnant Woman

The news is out!! Tommy and I are expecting our first baby! We are unbelievably grateful for this wonderful gift that our Savior has blessed us with, and we are absolutely ECSTATIC to meet our sweet little one. It was a fabulous journey to arrive at this place, and one day I will share that story. In the meantime, I decided I needed to do the typical 'I'm Pregnant!' blog so I will remember all of these awesome days in the future.... Now, here recently, I have been 'graced' with MUCH advice, opinions, stories... you get the idea. What is it about pregnancy that makes everyone want to tell their stories?! What is it about pregnancy that convinces EVERY WOMAN that her pregnancy/labor/delivery/breastfeeding story is so awful (much more awful than everyone else's in fact), and BONUS! She wants to share that awful story with you.... what a blessing. *Are you detecting the sarcasm? Because if not, you're totally missing out....*

I have been very sick with our little one, but because I am such a worrier, I have been grateful for the nonstop rendezvous with the nearest toilet, trashcan, and the occasional bush. There were actually times where I said, "Thank you, Jesus" after completely emptying out even the most minute contents of my stomach.... HOWEVER, I have learned that if you were one of the lucky ones who were not sick with pregnancy, it is difficult for you to grapple with how it affects others. Or, if it has been a long time since your last pregnancy or you were only sick with your first and have since had 3 kids that are now all school aged, you might have forgotten what it was like to vomit all day every day. Now, I know this is not true for all women. My experience with these women has taught me this...

Lesson 1: Do not EVER suggest that sickness is just in the mind. Yes, I did have someone tell me that maybe I was just "expecting" to be sick. And if I didn't expect it, it wouldn't happen. Really?! Because I'm pretty sure if that were the case and I could just force myself to throw up, it would've saved me many tears & prayers that the good Lord would just let me puke as I laid on the bathroom floor many a night with a stomach virus that was initiated in hell. If I could've just, "expected" to be sick, I'm pretty sure I would've done that! I am not one of these people that can force themselves to throw up... I'd make a pathetic bulimic... seriously. Also, can I just mention that prior to pregnancy, I was laboring under the delusion that I would NOT be sick during pregnancy... Minutes before I was offered this little gem of wisdom, I had just puked up all my breakfast... If only I had known that I should just tell myself, "You're not sick," then maybe I could've held onto those chocolate donuts... just maybe.

Lesson 2: If you were sick your entire pregnancy, feel free to keep it a secret unless asked. The first thing people always ask when you tell them you're pregnant is.. A. When are you due? and B. How are you feeling? Since I'm honest, I just tell them I've been sick. This has been met with many stories such as, "Oh, honey! My friend was sick through her ENTIRE pregnancy. She threw up every day until she delivered." Awesome. Or how about, "Well, most people will say that it will stop at the end of the first trimester, but you'll probably keep throwing up for another month or so." Wow, friend. Thanks for the vote of confidence. I mean, I know that there are people who are sick the entire time, but seriously, let's shoot for a little bit of encouragement. If I happen to be sick with our sweet baby the entire time, you can bet that I WILL NOT be sharing this little tidbit of information with the new pregnant girl! If she asks, I will tell her. But I will not be offering it up. I mean, why rain on someone else's parade!?

Lesson 3: All labors & deliveries are relatively traumatic. There's no need to terrify people with your story. Ok, now I am one of those goofy naturalists... I know, I know. I believe pregnancy is a process, it's not a medical condition that needs to be treated. It's just my philosophy. However, I also know that you cannot bring life into this world without some trauma... I mean, you are BIRTHING another human being! Somehow, I feel like some people's stories tend to get worse the longer they tell them.... I mean, by the end of some delivery stories, it's like that delivery messed you up so bad they had to sew you a new vagina as the old one was labeled as "ineffective"... Honestly, less drama is best. Wow. I believe it was difficult, you don't have to convince me.

Lesson 4: Just because something didn't work for you, doesn't mean it won't work for me. This has ALWAYS been a pet peeve of mine, in a MAJOR way. Like, when people ask how many kids you want and you say, "Four" and they say, "Oh yeah, I used to say that, too. Just wait til you start having them, you'll change your mind." I'm sorry you changed your mind, but please understand that our life circumstances are different.... Just because you did it, doesn't mean I will. I have noticed that some people tend to lord over you an experience they've already had-- and OF COURSE, their experience is the one and only way it could ever be. I know I'm guilty of doing this at times, too, but I really make an effort not to do this. Here lately, this applies to me because, as I mentioned, I'm a fan of natural labor & delivery. Now, I am not an idiot-- I KNOW that I've never had a child before, so I have no clue what my labor might be like. I am not suggesting that I would NEVER have pain medicine or would refuse medical care which could endanger the life of my sweet child. But I do believe, that it is best for me and for my baby to do it as naturally as possible for as long as I can. This is why much preparation has gone into this for me already-- lots of books, classes, exercises, hiring a fabulous doula, making a specific birth plan with my midwife, planning to labor at home for as long as possible. I really haven't told too many people about this because so many people are TOTAL nay sayers.... Like, "Oh you just wait. You'll change your mind." Again, thanks for the encouragement, friend. Now, there are exceptions to this rule. My momma had a completely different type of birth than I am planning. But she has been VERY supportive of me-- and WHY?! Because she loves me and our baby, and she knows that there is more than one way to successfully birth a baby. Thank you, Momma!! Please teach others how to be encouraging like you!

That's all I've got for now... Though, I am certain that the longer I go along, there will be more awesome nuggets of wisdom....There's nothing like a major life change to bring out the stories of trauma... Of course, truthfully, I am grateful that the majority of people care about our sweet baby and about our newly established family. Thank goodness for those folks! :)

Here's the earliest peek at 'Baby G.'....