Puddles and puddles and piles... Oh my.

There have been a lot of puddles and piles in our house in the last week. Lots of different kinds of puddles and piles, too.  We went and cut down our Christmas tree a few days after Thanksgiving. It was incredible the difference between Abi Kate at this time last year verses this year. She wanted to run through trees, touch them and smell them, she wanted to help with the saw… (um, no). The first real tree that I had (or that I can remember) was our first married Christmas. So, we’ve continued to cut one down every year. Walking through the rows always makes me feel like the Christmas season is officially here. Abi Kate insisted that they were Halloween trees, saying “tick or teat” as we walked through the fields (Promise I didn’t forget the r’s… she omits that sound). That is until we lit up the lights on the tree at home and she whispered, “Kiss-mas!” Precious.

 Bye, guys! 

 Abram came too ;)

 Clearly we don't get out much. Sorry babe! ;o

 First sip of hot chocolate :)

We got the tree home and our first puddle happened-- you know where you fill the tree stand up with water and miss?! And then the small pile of needles after it’s placed in the tree and lights are put on and it’s finally finished. We chose a different type of tree than we’ve ever cut before. While I happen to like this tree, I discovered once I started to put the lights on that it has thorns on the inner branches! Oh my soul. I put on long sleeves and gloves to protect my delicate skin ;) And afterwards, we sat with the overhead lights off and just the twinkling Christmas tree lights on…. That feels like Christmas, too.

 Helping Momma with the lights (See my gloves?!)

 She kept finding random pieces of tape and putting them on her chin-- Santa?!

We also started our Jesse tree, a new tradition for us. I wanted to do one with her last year, but I knew she was really too young to participate. So last year, we read the Christmas story and talked to her about it. There are so many cool ways to do a Jesse tree, but I wanted Abi Kate to be able to fully participate in the making of each ornament. She doesn’t have the fine motor skills for gluing and cutting and all the adorable craft making yet, so I found an online source of printables. Because sister loves to color. Actually, while she colors she says, “I coloring. I coloring.” Just in case we didn’t notice. 

 Coloring ornaments on Day 1

Fierce coloring skills, eh? ;)

I love the concept of the Jesse tree because it traces the entire story of the Gospel, the prophecy of Christ’s arrival, the reason we would need a Savior, the way that God wove his story into the lives of everyday people, all the way to the arrival of the Holy One…. It’s just a beautiful tapestry that completely displays the sovereignty of God. I want her to see how it ties together and leads us to our own redemption. She’s too young to understand it all right now, and that’s completely ok. But we want her to hear it over and over again, so her heart will be responsive as she grows. We’ve also used our nativity with the Jesse tree this year. So there are piles of crayons on our floor and piles of hay from the roof of the stable. She calls the stable a “farm” and named the cow “Layla” (SO appropriate). But she’s got baby Jesus’ name down, so we’re calling it a win.

Sorry, everyone under the age of 2 has been pants-less in a our house for a few days... More on that...

 And this gem of a wiseman she named & continues to call"Ra Ra" (which is what she calls my sister). It's incredibly hilarious to me because if Rachel did live back in biblical times, she probably would've been a wise woman. Maybe she would've been black, too. Who knows. Miracles happen, right?! 

Tommy & I are also using John Piper’s Advent Devotional for ourselves. I l.o.v.e. John Piper. Love his poetic words, love his sheer honesty, love that he speaks Truth, unfettered by the fluff and feel-goods. I have a friend who had linked up this devotional on Facebook and I was so stoked to print it off on Sunday afternoon and get started. In our Connect group on Sunday morning, what did our teacher hand out? None other than Piper’s Advent Devotional. With a folder! (Chock it up to nerdy teacher-ness but I love a good folder). My printer was so happy! (And so was I.) It has been so good for me to spend the days readying my spirit for the season. I can’t read any of his stuff without crying-- hence more puddles. I’d highly recommend it if you’re looking for one for yourself. I feel like I’m getting a double dose with teaching Abi Kate the Jesse tree and then reading this as well. I can feel the activity of the Spirit in my heart this season. Maybe in a more real way than in years past.

We also spent the last week beginning potty training with Abi Kate. So… more puddles (and sadly some piles.) She started showing readiness signs around 17 months, but I got pregnant a few weeks later and just could not muster up any extra effort to assist in the encouragement of the potty. I spent a lot of time trying to determine if now was the right time, discussing it with my hubs who knows things are always far less serious than I make them. My comfort was that she’s very verbal and honest to a fault  (“I don’t like Mommy’s cookies.” That’s what she said the other night. Offensive. By the way, they were actually delicious. More for me.)  I felt her communication and brutal honesty would make the process an easier transition for us all- especially if she wasn’t ready. (I fully anticipated her to look at me and say, “No, Mommy. I no like potty.”)  I looked into about a thousand different methods and about 3 days in (with some time away from the situation, some introspection, and the much needed encouragement of a friend) realized that much like most things in my parenting, I don’t fit into a “one size fits all” approach. Most methods are just methods that we have to shift and make work for us. We started off with a bare-bottom and oh my soul were there lots of puddles on the floor! But it actually worked very well for her to identify the physical sensations. On day 3 or 4, she started realizing that she has voluntary control over those muscles, so she began using the potty more as a conditional reflex. She’s still working on the verbal connection, but on day 7, she started running to the potty independently when she has had to go- and she made it ahead of time. Woo hoo! She’s been consistent in doing that daily and going when we tell her with a few accidents still thrown in. I’m sure she will now pee exclusively on our carpet the rest of the day once I hit “publish.”

The other puddles came from me. Crying. A lot. I don’t remember being quite so teary in my other pregnancies, but I have been with this one. A lot of my tears relate to Abi Kate, so that’s different from her pregnancy I guess since I wasn’t raising a child yet. One of my biggest concerns as a parent has always been that I would rush her in doing things. We live in a culture of independence, which isn’t really a bad thing, except that I feel like babies often aren’t allowed to be babies. Toddlers can’t be toddlers. Preschoolers need to be like school-aged kids...  I just want Abi Kate to thrive in her own time because she is her own person. She is unique and develops uniquely, just like all children do. It’s why one-method teaching in a classroom usually isn’t profitable. I feel the same in my parenting with her. We will encourage her and help her become autonomous because we do feel like independence is important, but we don’t want to put her in situations that she’s just not developmentally ready for yet. It's a balancing act that everyone does differently and one that I struggled with in this new experience. It was difficult for me the first few days of potty training because I feared I was putting her in a situation she wasn’t ready for developmentally. Which made me cry. A lot. I don’t fully know why I thought this except that I am just plain emotional right now which ups my irrational level (and that's stunning in itself), lessens my ability to objectively evaluate her progress, and because there are many so opinions on potty training about when and how and what defines success/not success that all differ. It wasn't the accidents--I don’t get frustrated with the accidents- they just don’t bother me. I expect them. (Except the one she had yesterday. On our bed. My side. I cried. No anger just a bunch of uncontrollable snubbing from me. It was really embarrassing.)   I couldn't put my finger on why I felt this way (probably because they were covered with my ridiculous tears), so I had to take some time to sit back and consider two things. First, my motivation--  I saw signs that she's ready and I would adore if she’s potty trained before Abram arrives.I know how I am in transition times-- I don’t do change easily. And I know that trying to potty train my two year old while having a newborn attached to my boob all day long while wearing mesh panties (sssuupppeerr sexy) would not be the most gentle or patient environment for her learn it. Not because of the timing or age or anything else, but because of me. I know I would feel rushed and frustrated because I know myself. Many people do not have this flaw like I do, so later is just fine. I'm just not one of those laid back people. Honestly, I wish I was.  Starting now makes me feel like I can offer a much kinder and patient response as she learns. Second, I realized that this is how she ALWAYS learns. She is always cautious in learning new things-- meaning she doesn’t throw herself into them without exposure. She held the tip of my pinky for a month (really there’s no support in there!) before she decided she would let go and walk alone. And once she did decide she was going to walk, she was done with crawling almost immediately. She was the same in learning to crawl- rocking on her knees for weeks while I encouraged her to come to me and cheering her on when she made it. Once she realized she could do it, she was ready. It’s even reminded me of the first month of breastfeeding. I led the way, not her. I followed her cues for when she was hungry or needed comfort, but the actual act-- I had to position her, I had to help her latch appropriately, I had to help her stay awake to eat. And once she decided that she knew what to do about 4 weeks in, she didn’t need me to do all that anymore. It took me a few days to recognize that this new learning phase is really no different for her. We didn’t rush her to do any of these things. We just gave her the support she needed to reach the goal in her own time. And that’s how learning has always worked for her as an individual-- experience plus time coupled with our patience and guidance as she figures things out. It almost reminds me of Lev Vygotsky’s concept of scaffolding (which by the way I was a huge fan of when I was in the classroom). Heck, even her birth mimicked this pattern-- contracting for 5 weeks. And once her body decided it was actually time to grace our world, it was 5 hours of labor and she was here and it was done. It’s just who she is and how she learns. Once I got a grip on that, realized it wasn’t nearly the issue I was pouring over, most of the tears stopped. I realized we are following her cues while guiding her along the way. We feel no rush for her to be fully trained by the end of the month or even by her 2^nd birthday (and WHY is that looming on the horizon?!). Patience and breathing easy-- two things I’m still learning. ;) And clearly, not thriving at it while pregnant! We’ll just keep being consistent and she’ll fully get it when she’s fully ready. In the meantime, she’s made great progress and she is so proud of herself when she is successful. As usual, I was the only party stressing about this. She thinks it’s fantastic.  

Sorry there's no potty training pics. I'll take a picture of a puddle on the floor next time?! 

So the puddles have diminished significantly from her, at least while we’re at home. She’s not quite ready for potential puddle-making in public yet haha. Maybe in another week. She looks like a big girl in her panties, which she adores. And we had to put coconut oil on her little bottom cheeks from where they got chapped sitting on the carpet (hilarity!) But hopefully those puddles will continue to decrease in coming days/weeks. ;) And on a separate and random note, let me just say that I totally get the start/stop with potty training. It can be uber discouraging and the consistency is just plain exhausting, or at least for us. There were 2 definite days I thought, “I’m too tired/pregnant for this.” In addition, can I just say that for me it is  SOOOO much easier to assist in potty training someone else’s kid?! I’ve done that before. No emotional aspect, so no biggie. Next time, I’m sending my kid to a friend’s house. Get ready, girls. Abram is next. Don’t be shocked when he shows up with cookies for you (obviously not the ones AK deemed gross) and a note pinned to his shirt that says, “Please return me when I am a successful potty-er.”

That said I’m still the maker of most of the puddles this week. I opened the Christmas present she made us in her Sunday School class and sobbed. In my car. Over a handprint. Maybe I’ll get myself under control in a week or so. Or maybe 4.5 months from now. In the meantime, we’re enjoying and anticipating all things Christmas and hope you are too- puddles, piles, and all!

Sweet Baby Love with a Shade of Blue

The last two weeks have been a pretty big deal in our house. We’ve hit just about every branch on the tree of shock, excitement, and anticipation.

                Tom and I both love knowing the gender of our babies. I completely respect the folks who wait to found out, and I love that there are people who choose to wait for the surprise at the end. I think it’s exciting for everyone! That’s just not me- not because I need to plan or just have to know, but because of the connection it fosters between myself and my baby. I remember finding out that Abi Kate was a girl…. I think the love I felt for her multiplied by about 1000 and she immediately found her place in our home, even though she was only 18 weeks gestation. After we found out, Tommy and I prayed together and I remember him praying for her by name for the first time. I remember calling her by name for the first time… it just brings connection to me in a way that’s hard to explain.

                This pregnancy has been very different for me than my past two pregnancies. I have wanted to connect to this child, and while I did love them fiercely the moment I read “Pregnant,” it has still just been different. I haven’t let my mind wander to the future. I’ve struggled to let myself dream over our baby. Even when I wanted to so deeply, my heart just wouldn’t allow me to fully let myself go in this child. I’ve had no fear that I would feel unconnected to our baby once they arrived due to a fearful pregnancy. I know better than that. I knew the minute that I would touch them and see them, it would be like they had been ours forever. And even if I struggled, I knew my body would take over and bond me to them through that crazy chemical cocktail of hormones that’s released upon delivery. I have been fearful, however, that I would look back on this pregnancy and regret that I didn’t feel that intense connection while I carried this baby. Because of that, Tommy and I opted to go for an early gender scan at 15 weeks…. Because I needed it.  

                I didn’t realize it at the time that I scheduled the appointment, but I actually booked it for Election Day. And really, that was just divine timing! The days preceding the election and even the days that followed were just plain discouraging to me on the social media front. What was  disheartening was that a lot of it came from fellow believers. There just seemed like a general unkindness towards people who disagreed with each other, definitely not from a ton of people but just some. I was really bummed out by the regular and out-of-context scripture that I saw from both sides, (Really friends, if we actually believe that Jesus’ point in the Parable of the Rich Young Man was that it’s hard for rich people to go to heaven, then we have not only desperately missed the underlying message of the Gospel but we have also missed the nature of Christ’s teachings), the claim from individuals on both sides that they had a better understanding of Christ’s grace, service, and love because of who they were casting their vote for (I think the scripture says they will know us by our LOVE, not by our vote….). And afterwards, the treatment towards those who won or lost…. It just made me sad. I saw people from both sides mocking other believers for their response; and I saw people mocking the God that they don’t even serve (I’m sorry, I want to contain myself but I can’t…. This typically happened from the self-proclaimed “open-minded”…. And all I could think was, ‘Mmmm, yes…please tell me more about your tolerance and lack of judgment for those who believe differently than you.’ Blah.) All of this to say, I was SUPER relieved to be getting some happy news that had nothing to do with politics or presidents or opinions or controversy or anything of the like.

                We drove out to a boutique in Clarksville that specializes in early gender detection. Long drive, but a fun time just talking with Tommy in the car. When we arrived, as I have been every time, I was really nervous. Tommy already knew I would be and understands me, so he prayed and we headed inside. One of the most exciting parts of this particular place is that they will live stream your ultrasound, so I had several friends and family watching it while we were! It added so much fun to the entire process. I’d prayed that as soon as the ultrasound came up that I would see this baby’s heartbeat so I wouldn’t worry. Sure enough, there was the familiar flicker, and I was extra grateful seeing as this baby was absolutely still. The ultrasound tech tried for a few minutes to get baby moving to no avail. This kid was sound asleep, which completely stunned me seeing as I drank a Mountain Dew on the way so that they’d be active! Seriously, my first caffeine in this pregnancy… the kid should be extra sensitive, right?! Nope. So, I went and hopped on a birthing ball for a few minutes to see if I could wake baby up. And sure enough, baby started moving all over the place. As soon as they started kicking their little legs I think I gasped, and inside my head I thought, “Oh. My. Gosh. A penis?!” She spent another moment looking and then I realized she was checking the cord flow, which really sent me thinking I had indeed seen what I thought I did. I asked what she was doing, and she confirmed that’s all she was looking at. She spent another minute trying to get another shot while baby wiggled all over the place and then she froze the screen and said, “Well, you guys are definitely having a boy!” I think Tommy and I both screamed and then just started laughing. I don’t think stunned even begins to cover it! We got to watch him moving all around, and once he started he really didn’t stop showing us his hiney. I think we had 8 different shots of his assertion that he is indeed male. Sure enough, my phone started dinging all at the same time with “BOY!! OMG BOY!!”

 She also said he has very long legs

 Covering his face

                

We were so excited and completely shocked all at the same time. We were both just certain we were having another girl. And honestly, Tommy usually has some strange ESP about what sex a baby is going to be-- and not just about my pregnancies! I think we’ve both always felt like we’d have several girls (there are no boys on Tommy’s side of the family, I only have a sister.) Not only that, this pregnancy has been identical to Abi Kate’s in every way with the exception that I’ve been more sick. (Really, whoever said you’re less sick with boys L.I.E.D. I usually never subscribe to most of the gender theories, but after being so sick with Abi Kate and understanding hormonally why girls can make you sicker-- that one just makes actual sense to me now). I’ve carried the exact same, felt him early just like I did with Abi Kate, the only regular ‘craving’ (and I use that term loosely) that I’ve had with both was Orange Juice, and even their heart rates have been identical at each check.

                It took me about 24 hours to get my head around the fact that we are having a boy. We were thrilled but just plain surprised! I have a feeling he may be a lot like Tommy. He’s very still in comparison to Abi Kate. So much so, that I find myself freaking out when he doesn’t move as often as I like. Even when he is active, his movements are gentle and soft. In the ultrasound, he was laying on my placenta like it was a mattress with his legs stretched out before him crossed at the ankles (seriously this is exactly how Tommy sits on the couch). Abi Kate’s personality is very much like it was in the womb-- busy and intense. So, I’m interested to see if he will mimic his current disposition as well.

 Most of our "It's a Boy" pictures looked like this--Abi Kate running away

 Bye Abi

                We haven’t settled on a middle name yet, but we both knew immediately his name would be Abram. It is not a name that we had considered in the past. Not the name we just knew we’d use if we ever had a boy. Wasn’t even a name we knew the meaning of until after it had been on my heart. Instead, it is the name that came to me often during my first trimester…. It means “The Father of Many Nations.” For me, that meaning indicated a future-- and on days when I worried, the Lord placed his name on my heart and it would bring peace. (We did also have a girl name-- same story-- not one we’d planned on but purposeful meaning that comforted me… and even though we won’t be having a baby girl right now, I think we’ll probably save it for a future baby girl because we both fell in love with it the way we did with his).

                My world is girly and feminine, so I have lots of learn and adapt for this new little guy. I’m glad to have a husband who is a perfect example of what I hope Abram will personify. I think my biggest concern at this point is just his relationship with Abi Kate. In all truthfulness, I felt like maybe I’d let her and him down because neither one would be having an immediate sibling that’s the same sex. Not that brothers and sisters can’t be friends or love each other-- I know plenty of little kids who adore their opposite sex sibling. I just want them to continue that in their future. My sister is one of my best friends-- by choice. We’re light years different, but I talk with her multiple times a day, choose to do things and hang out with her because I just plain like her. She’s my friend. I know plenty of sisters who are this way and plenty of brothers who are this way. But I think I only know one or two people who have remained very close to a sibling of the opposite sex…I know plenty of people that love their siblings of the opposite sex and like them a lot; but I really mean that they’d choose to hang out, choose to invest in their friendship regularly, want to spend time together, be involved in the daily ongoings of each other’s lives. I just want that so much for Abi Kate and Abram. There is something so special about holding a deep friendship with a person that you have a personal history with, someone who shares your genetic make up. I hope that Tom and I will be able to foster that in our home and that their hearts will always keep them molded close together, even as years pass and they become teenagers and then adults.

                Much like I’d hoped, knowing that I’m carrying a boy, calling him by name… it has been freeing for me and brought with it the deep connection I was waiting for. I’m so glad we opted not to wait until 20 weeks. I love hearing him prayed for by name. I love talking to him by name. I love that I know it is Abram who is moving inside me.

                And no, we don’t feel like because we’re having a boy our family is complete. The completion of our family has nothing to do with genitalia. Sorry. ;) We’re just incredibly grateful for his life. Period. We’re eager to welcome him into our arms and into our home, and we’re eager to fall in love with this sweet baby boy just like we did with his sister. He is the gift that keeps bringing healing to our hearts.  

Happiness

“There’s just no accounting for happiness,

or the way it turns up like a prodigal

who comes back to the dust at your feet

having squandered a fortune far away.

And how can you not forgive?

You make a feast in honor of what

was lost, and take from its place the finest

garment, which you saved for an occasion

you could not imagine, and you weep night and day

to know that you were not abandoned,

that happiness saved its most extreme form

for you alone.”

                                                                ~Jane Kenyon

Sometimes, I find myself in a position or place where words seem insufficient. Not capable of fully explaining or enlightening the listener. Not even adequate enough for my own thoughts to wrap around. In so many ways, this is where I’ve found myself- today, last week, for the last 3 months.

So to say that this is happiness, feels almost too hollow as a description. To see a beating heart, to watch kicking feet, to hear a heartrate that emanates from the deepest part of my being yet isn’t my own… It’s like coming up for a breath of air after being under the water for too long, like falling into a peaceful sleep after nights of restless insomnia.  

I feel like I almost need to write this backwards-- from now back to August when we first learned that we were with life again. I wanted to write in previous weeks, needed to really; but I just couldn’t. In some ways, the last three months have passed with incredible speed, but in other ways they’ve dragged on, turning hours into days. There have been days of deepest peace and rejoicing and there have been days where the fear of this precious life silently slipping away is so intense it is almost palpable. God has been faithful to  grow me, to rescue me from myself and my own thoughts in these waiting days, to speak love over me when I have felt most alone. And I will write about it. I have a lot to remember. Things I need to remember….but not today. Today I will write the easy things and the happy things only.

Really when I wrote this post the other week I should’ve said what I’ve really been doing is pouring all of my energy into growing this baby. In all three of my pregnancies, it’s like I can feel my body working overtime to provide life. This pregnancy has been so much like Abi Kate’s that if she weren’t standing in front of me day after day, I’d be certain I was carrying her…

Back in August, I woke up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom and while walking from the bed to the bathroom, I realized I was very nauseated. My first thought was, “No! I don’t want to be sick!” (Seriously I HATE being stomach sick. I always feel like my life is ending with a stomach virus.) I went back to bed and forgot about it until the next night, when I woke up to go to the bathroom (am I the only person that has to pee in the middle of the night always?!) and I was nauseated again. Tommy swears I got in bed that night and woke him up and told him to pray over me because I was getting sick. I have zero recollection of this event. However, considering my typical dramatic response to stomach viruses, this sounds pretty legit. ;)  When this happened the third night in a row, coupled with several of the other signs I have prior to a positive pregnancy test, I had a pretty strong feeling that we were pregnant. Much like before, we weren’t trying to get pregnant nor were we preventing pregnancy. But sure enough a day later…..

Happy tears and excitement and disbelief accompanied this little test. Funny how a 15 dollar piece of plastic can have that effect on you :) 

I’ve never been sick that early in pregnancy, definitely not before I’m even 4 weeks.  However, I started off sick in this pregnancy, and it has been a comforting friend for me. At 6 weeks, it really kicked into high gear. I’ve stayed nauseated or vomiting for essentially the entire day, every day until the last few days. I didn’t think I could be more sick than I was with Abi Kate. I stand corrected. ;) It has, however, been good for me and helped me keep my thoughts in a good place, so I’ve been deeply thankful. The first two or three weeks were not as difficult and because I have a VERY busy toddler, I couldn’t think about it too much. However, once I became plastered to the couch (seriously, I think there’s an indention), being a stay-at-home mom become much more difficult. Thankfully, we’ve had family and friends nearby who have taken her to help me. At week 6, Abi Kate started saying, “It’s ok, Momma” every time I’d run to the bathroom. Around week 8, that changed to, “She fine.” Like, she didn’t even need to check on me or comfort me at this point. And at week 13, she walked into the bathroom (while I sat on the side of the tub to recouperate) and she leaned her head over the toilet, bobbing it up and down, acting like she was throwing up… lovely. I’ve encouraged bulimia!

I’ve had to change some things to accommodate my needs… I’ve missed church and small group several times, haven’t done much “fun stuff” with Abi Kate during the week… A lot of times, I can hold myself together while we’re in public, mind over matter, though I typically pay dearly for that once I’m home (or in the car)… So, we’ve stuck to the bare minimum of outings each week. She’s watched more TV in the last few weeks than she’s watched in her entire life combined. I took a month off of cloth-diapering and she’s been in disposables almost full-time, and not even the “whole wheat” kind, just plain old Pampers. Most of her meals have taken place on a towel on the floor of the living room instead of in the kitchen, because I can’t be around food and stand that long without being sick…I’ve felt like a turd about most of this, but it’s what life has demanded, and it is just for a season (one that I’m so thankful for).  If this continues like Abi Kate’s pregnancy, the sickness will never completely leave, but it will get much better in a few more weeks.Because the sickness has helped me feel like things are progressing, I haven’t let myself try the few natural alternatives I’d planned on. Now, that we’re in the second trimester, I might change my mind on that…maybe ;)

So much of these past few weeks ties into a future post about this journey, but a few of these things are  contributors to happiness. Before each appointment, my heart has been so fearful, fearful of what we wouldn’t find or wouldn’t see. So minutes before each appointment, Tommy has held my hand and prayed. Each appointment has felt like this huge climax, the determining factor of my future.  At 8 weeks, when I saw the little heart flickering on the ultrasound machine, tears spilled over. But I also no longer rest in the results of an ultrasound being a predictor of a healthy future, so there was relief only in that moment, gratefulness that I had seen this baby wiggle and live inside of me. At 11 weeks, thirty minutes before our midwife arrived, I felt that same familiar fear. So, we prayed. She held the Doppler against me and searched for a heartbeat, and while she could heart placental sounds and cord sounds that indicated a heartrate that differed from my own, she  couldn’t find heartvalve sounds. I could never adequately describe how I felt in those moments…. All I could think was “11 weeks and it’s happening again.” Praise God for her sensitivity. She offered to listen again but then said, “I can just go grab my ultrasound machine out of my car?” And as she plugged it in and connected cords I will never forget what she said, “We are going to find a healthy baby in Jesus’ name.” It took everything in me not to sob on my couch over her expression of faith for our baby. The screen was tiny and it was an older machine, so we just had to wait to see if baby moved…. And sure enough, I saw our baby hop and then begin kicking its little legs all over and deepest relief washed over me. (As with Abi Kate, my placenta is anterior, making it much more difficult to hear fetal heart tones in early pregnancy.) A few days later, I felt our baby move inside me for the first time. And finally at 14 weeks I again felt deep fear, certain that all the soft kicks and movements I’ve felt were created in my mind. So again, Tommy prayed for peace and for life. And we heard the sound I’d been praying for, hundreds of times a day, a constant whisper from my heart to the Throne room. And our midwife held my hand and said, “Katie, that’s your baby.” All of the fear and excitement and thankfulness poured out, and she kept the Doppler over that spot, letting us listen to that sweet sound while I laid there and cried. We’ve met with two midwives throughout this process, both women of deep faith in Christ and in the birthing process, and they have reconfirmed in my heart why I love the midwifery model of care so much and why it has been so important to me to have faith-driven care providers in pregnancy. Both rejoiced with us and reminded us they’d be praying for our baby’s health whenever we contacted them about the pregnancy, both have understood my deep need for the confirmation of life in this pregnancy, and both have celebrated with us, thanking the God that we serve for His faithfulness.  

I would love to say that the fears have left, but that’s just not the truth. It still crosses my mind multiple times a day, and I believe it probably will for awhile. But I am also thankful to celebrate this life out loud, thankful for every day that I hang out near a toilet, thankful to grab my maternity jeans, thankful for soft movements that assure me, thankful to God for knitting this baby together within, and thankful for feeling deep happiness inside of pregnancy again.

And because you should be left with a little happy yourself-- remember the terrible, horrible,no good very bad thing? That happened while I was pregnant. Nauseated. Capable of smelling things 8 miles away. (And that story just got 10 times worse….)

Catchin' Up

It's only been almost two months since I last blogged.... and only 3, 4, something months since I updated about Abi Kate. I have this little five year journal for her that has space to write one line a day about their progress--one thing a day for five years. During her first year, I did so great. And then, I stopped doing so great.....and I feel sure that in five years I will want to punch myself in the face for doing the worst job ever in recording these moments... So here's what we've been doing in this long absence...

We've been Zoo-ing with friends...

Finding & playing with the most inappropriate things 

(at this point there was an entire trail of a variety of feminine products from our living room to our back bathroom... Have no fear, if you spontaneously start anywhere in our house, we've got you covered.)

Juicin' with Daddy-- 

Every night when he walks in she immediately runs to the cabinet where we keep the juicer and says, "Want juice!" I've never seen a kid crave juiced collard greens like her... keep it up sister, you're 18 steps ahead of your Momma. 

Pumpkin Patchin'-

Here she said, "Cow want treat?? Cow shew shew! Cow stink!"

 "I wash pig" 

 Digging for potatoes

Can I please reiterate how much HARDER it is to take a picture of a running toddler? Seriously, we got almost zero quality pics of her smiling. So brutal. 

 Save me!

 Yes, she took a bite out of her pumpkin. I believe, "I no like" followed that bite.

Just plain growin' up--

A week or two ago she stopped calling Tommy "Dada" and started calling him "Daddy" (actually "Da-ee") She's called us Momma and Dada for so long that it just didn't occur to me that she'd eventually stop that... Sad face. 

And basically one word to sum up the last few months of toddlerhood-- Whew. Her first year was definitely light years easier than this year has been, but she also does so many things that are intentional and fun now that it all balances. She keeps us busy and makes us laugh. She started saying her first sentences at the end of 17 months/beginning of 18 months, and for a while they all revolved around one subject-- the dogs. She LOVES the dogs. (Thank the Lord because they have earned themselves a place on my "black list" at the moment.) She still prefers to speak in mostly short phrases instead of complete sentences. And we definitely need to work on girlfriend's grammar and use of possessives ;) ex. "This is Nora tail." or  "Layla is dink water."  But it's still sweet to hear her have complete thoughts. 

She started expressing interest in letters about a month ago, so I sat down with a few of my tactile foam letters just to play and give her some experience (thank you, Kindergarten materials). I was all excited with child development ideas in place and feeling like I was about to play the teacher role again....She already knew half of the letters in the alphabet. It felt kinda like a slap in the face- like, "Momma, please. Your observation skills are as good as your documenting skills. Next." And even worse, I'm pretty sure I have "Super Why" to credit for this knowledge. Sheesh...  

And just to leave you with a nice, embarrassing story (because the last one wasn't enough, obviously)... Abi Kate has had this affinity for finding the most inappropriate things to play with (as shown earlier) since she was about 14 months old. She also finds things that we didn't even know existed inside our house. I have found all manner of things on our living room floor, right out in the open for company to view, things that you'd prefer them NOT to encounter when they walk in-- you know, like a stack of condoms or a pregnancy test. This past Sunday, we were running late, as usual. I ran on into Kid's Worship to help lead and Tommy took Abi Kate to the nursery. Right before dropping her off, he happened to look in her diaper bag and noticed a bottle of something-- namely a bottle of 4 year old KY, and NOT the kind that would make you think "Oh that's just for boo boos or thermometers". Abi Kate LOVES carrying bags around the house and tossing things into them...And of all the bags and all the objects, these were her choices?!  Dear Lord, I'm SO glad he saw it before the nursery workers did. Can you imagine?!? So basically, he walked around with a bottle of lubricant in his pocket all during worship. And during Sunday School, I opened up my  purse and found a condom. Nice, Abi. Obviously, no one should examine the contents of our bags or they'd think Tommy and I can't stay off each other-- even at church. Clearly, we need to double up on the baby-proofing in this house... and we need to throw stuff away (like the 4 year old bottle of lube). I hope you're laughing and you're welcome. 

She's growing up and we're just trying to keep up... that's what we've been doing. :) 

 

The Terrible Horrible No Good Very Bad Thing

I almost didn’t write this, because well…. it’s gross and pretty random. But I have this friend. And if you know this friend, then you fully understand her sense of humor and why she would deem this “blog worthy” and if you’d read her funny text messages regarding this ‘incident’ you would probably laugh. Actually if you’d read the texts coming from several of my friends while this occurred you might’ve wet your pants. It was a close call for me. 

I shared this story with my BFF as she was lost in a scary part of Chicago, where she was relatively certain she’d just seen a child prostitute. We struggled to determine which experience was worse. (No, not really, all you unfunny people) There are no pictures of this experience, just words. You’ll just have to forgive me/thank me later. That said….

We had a good weekend. Tommy had to work a lot, but I enjoyed a lot of time with Abi Kate, just the two of us. Sunday was busy and filled with church and then a visit to Mimi and Papa’s house that evening (though really, the cats are giving you guys a run for your money in terms of whose most important…). I was going to the zoo early the next morning with one of my best friends and her little girls. My gas light had come on as we’d driven to my parents’ from church that night. I went back and forth about stopping for gas because I was tired. I just wanted to go home and put on comfy clothes and lay on the couch. But, at the last minute, I figured it would save me time in the morning (in which I would SURELY be rushed). So, I pulled into the gas station about a mile down from our house. This. Was. A. Mistake.

I pulled into Pump #1. Another mistake. Tommy ran in to get a drink and to pay for gas, saying he’d be right back to pump. I said, “No. I can pump gas. I’ll just use the debit card. It’ll be faster that way. Don’t worry about it.” Third mistake. So he runs in and I hop out. As I make my way over to the card swiper, I get the sense of something out of the corner of my eye. And dear LORD I’m so glad I caught it. I look down and my foot is literally an inch away from a brown pile of mush. I think, “Nooo. That can’t be….” And look beside it to see another pile. And sweet Lord in heaven why did I begin to bend down to make sure I was looking at what I thought I was?!?! (I made SO many mistakes this night but this might’ve been my worst). And well, let’s just say I come face to face with human excrement at least three times a day, courtesy of the toddler in my house. And there was NO DOUBT what this was. Except, this was no kid poop. Oh no. And as I looked a little further down, what did I see, but a wipe… what looked to be an Armor-All wipe. I think I screamed something like, “OH MY SOUL! Savages!!!!” and flew back into my car. I am unashamed to admit that I silently hoped that the chemicals from that wipe were tearing up the culprit’s rear end… I literally tore into another spot as fast as I could, hoping that Abi Kate wasn’t scarred for life (like I am now). I was so befuddled that I pulled into a spot with my gas tank on the other side. This was about the time that Tommy strolled back outside…. And was like, “Honey, what are you doing? That’s not going to work.” I’m relatively certain I screamed, “SOMEONE TOOK A DUMPAT THE PUMP!”  I know I looked like I was in complete hysterics. It is because I was. In the moment I felt like we were having this odd communication failure. Like he wasn’t quite understanding the severity of this.  He was so chill at about the whole thing. Like it’s the most natural thing in the world to poop wherever. On The Ground. In Public. WHERE PEOPLE (namely me!) STEP! And God love his heart because his first response besides just plain calm was, “You didn’t step in it did you?” (Because God is a gracious God, I did not step in that terrible horrible no good very bad thing. I do not care how much I love those Yellow Box flip flops. They would’ve been in the trash faster than a flea on a dog.) Tommy is still being calm and cavalier about this and I really just think it’s because he didn’t have to see/smell the very bad thing. There are some things you just can’t come back from-- like being face to face with a stranger’s dump. I told him he had to go inside and tell the gas station attendant, and he was like “Nah. It’s ok. It’ll just go away.” WHAT?!  Trust me. I do poop all day. It doesn’t just go away. Anyway, he went on inside to talk to this man. And honestly, there is an entire back story about this particular gas station and particular station attendant that involves our first married Thanksgiving together and an uncomfortable holiday invitation, but I will skip all of that. And also please know that I am not even slightly aiming to be politically correct here, so if my geographical clumping offends you, feel free to go drive to Pump #1 and I promise the sight there will offend you wwwaaayy more than my stereotypical language. The attendant is Middle Eastern and doesn’t speak great English. Tommy walked in and told him, “Dude. Somebody took a dump at pump #1” to which this man replies smiling, “Oh yes. This good? Yeah?” Clearly, friend is NOT getting the picture. Tommy’s reponse, “No. Not good. Took. A. Dump” as he mimicks pulling down his pants… (This alone kept me laughing for a good hour). Meanwhile, I am texting this entire scenario to 3 friends and every one of them said the same thing at first, “OMG! WHO WOULD DO THAT?!” Who indeed.

We drove home and it became slightly less mortifying and more funny. Slightly.

 We put Abi Kate in some jammies, and she took off running to her new favorite place (I’d like to suggest that it is her "safe place" and she was recovering just like her Momma from the terrible horrible no good very bad thing. I cannot be the only one scarred from this). She loves hiding behind her glider and reading books. We told her she could have 5 minutes to read, and I went to our bedroom to change into my comfy clothes. I mean really, that’s all I wanted ALL ALONG. I turned on the monitor out of habit and what do I hear, but her reading this story to herself. “Oh No! Blue!” If you’ve read Pete the Cat: I Love My White Shoes, you’ll understand…

I snuck in to watch her… and felt slightly redeemed. Like maybe the poo was just a bad dream….

All’s well that ends well, right?!

 Please note that my gas light came on this morning as I was driving down the same road. I weighed my options. As I passed the scary place where “it” happened, I glanced at pump #1. There. Are. Stains. Oh yes. I may never be the same again. 

In Which This is Saving My Life Right Now

I came across this blog a few weeks ago. The concept of it and the words filled me up. Maybe because my life saving moment was similar to the original poster’s. Or maybe because she quoted the song that has lived in my heart the last 4 weeks, making my soul move to its rhythm and breathe in its words. Or maybe because her writing elicited a deep emotional response in me as most things seem to do these days. For whatever reason, her urge for her readers to consider and write out their own life saving moments stuck with me….

“And we know that God works all things together for good, for those who are called according to His purpose” Romans 8:28  This verse. The verse I have known for so many years, have quoted so many times. It is saving me. So many times a day, over and over again. The things that happen in this life, they are not always good. This world that we live in, it is coming undone. Even creation, as it groans and waits for redemption, groaning as with the pains of childbirth. I know that pain intimately. Those deep, guttural groans as you wait for the close. The brokenness of this world can and does flow into our lives. Into my life. I have struggled and wrestled for almost three months, working out my faith with literal fear and physical trembling. And in the last 10 days, this verse is what has been laid on my heart, over and over again by the Spirit. The brokenness that happens in our lives as a result of sin entering the world so long ago-- that is not good. But the work the Spirit completes in us through those hard events-- THAT is the good. And oh, how sweet that realization has been. The reminder that God brings life through death. It is the gospel pattern playing out in my life. The bitter death we tasted in May, it was the antithesis of good. But the life He has brought to us through that death, the deepening of our faith, solidifying our rest in Him-- it is so good. Sitting in class on Sunday morning, hearing this message repeated again after hearing it whispered all week in my heart-- it was confirmation for me. This verse, the gospel that persists past salvation, bringing me into a deeper understanding of the rescuing love of Jesus… it is literally saving my life right now.

And these quiet moments with my daughter. Nursing her in the quiet of the morning. Sleepy eyes and her daddy’s long lashes. The war I have waged against myself, certain that my body is broken when I was once so confident in my body’s design-- these moments with her undo that lie. No broken body could carry such a healthy baby, could so efficiently birth her with gentleness. No broken body could produce such a precious intelligent child. No broken body could literally sustain her life and health for so long…18 and a half months. In these moments, I am completely certain of my divine design. In these moments, there are no questions. I am completely confident in my decision and my capabilities. She is completely certain of me in these moments-- there are no judgments of my character, no “helpful” words or intrusive statements. There is just us, giving everything I can to benefit her.  And in these quiet moments with her, fewer and far between these days, the Spirit speaks love over me… He created my inmost being…I am fearfully and wonderfully made. This body, His creation, it is not broken. It was knit together  in His perfection. And as I nurse my sweet girl, the enemy’s lies simply fall to the wayside, exposed as the deceptions they are. These moments with her, however much longer they last, they are saving my life right now.

These two things, tangible and intangible, calling me outside of myself and into the heart of the Father...

You are all glorious. My heart leans in. My soul must sing. You are all glorious.

Where Peace Abides

Life has been loud for me lately. From the ongoings of our world to the opinions of others. My thoughts have been loud. My heart has been unsettled. Even social media has had a lot of volume. (I’m not suggesting anything people should post and not post. Your page, your choice. It’s just, overall, been loud). Sometimes even the things that aren’t said, actions left undone-they have shouted through the silence. And honestly, I am exhausted. Worn down from over analyzing, emotionally spent from thinking and feeling, and craving deep solitude.  I’ve found myself in a new place in life, and in this new place I literally hunger for the peace of Christ. It is a good place, this new season. It’s been filled with more challenges than ever before but the victories have tasted sweeter than ever before. 

I have such a tendency to dwell. To linger. To toil over people, circumstances, and situations that I have no control over. It’s usually unprofitable for me, causing me only to despair and not leaving me with much more clarity than I entered with. So, I’ve found myself choosing to settle my thoughts on the beauty and sweet moments in this life. It’s not that I don’t continue to struggle to bring my thoughts and emotions under control. I do. Thankfulness has simply offered me rest in the moment. It has reminded me to take captive every thought & make it obedient to Christ.

So while the noise around me has continued, I’ve found the quiet in gratefulness for:

• The sound of toddler feet running through my house
• Hearts that are responsive to the Spirit’s leading
• The tender reminder from a friend that God does remember me
• Holistic healing
• Finding myself still hemmed in by the patient love of those who have suffered well with me
• Relaxing naps
• Easy days
• Shopping for girly fall clothes
• Really good coffee
• Forgiveness & restored relationship
• Celebrating the sweet lives of friends’ children
• Days spent with Tommy at home
• Friendships that pick up where they left off
• Hearing “Tank too, Momma” multiple times a day (aka Thank you, Momma)
• The gospel poured out over my life
• Family that loves and doesn’t divide
• Sharing life with others
• Good worship music courtesy of my sister
• The knowledge that what is fractured will one day be made completely new & right as Heaven comes to earth
• Late night conversations on the couch
• The life-giving power of Scripture
• Watching my little girl enjoy the company of others
• The anticipation of Fall’s arrival
• Having a husband who is rooted in the assurance of good things in our lives

Big things and small things. Some important and some not, yet all equally capable of providing reprieve and solace. As I walk through these days, I hope this is where I choose to dwell….in the quiet, where peace abides.