March Madness (Minus the Basketball)

So much for posting once a week, eh? As usual, life has been busy. This entire month has been a bustle of busyness. But busy with the really, really good things that this life offers us sometimes-- celebrating friends' coming-soon babies, celebrating our coming-soon baby, celebrating new marriage & the goodness that binds those different events together-- love.  

A few months ago, I started thinking of some special things I could do to mark this pregnancy with its own uniqueness-- things that I didn't do in Abi Kate's pregnancy. I have a sweet friend who does henna tattoos and all things birth related (really, if you need a childbirth class, a doula, essential oils, a belly cast, or henna -- she's your girl. You can check out her services here). I knew I wanted  the "painting" be a special experience, so I invited a few close friends over. This was in no way an exhaustive gathering of closest friends, but just the ones that I knew I needed to be present for this, were available to be there, & with the exception of one (who is so close to me that we even share genes ;) ) they all have something in common with me in this season-- they've been exactly where I'm at. They are mothers. Most of them of 2 children. I wanted it to be a time of fun and celebrating, but also a time of honesty and prayer. Each of these women all know me well- they've proven themselves close friends. They know the harder details of our loss, they know about the scale of emotions and fears I worked through in the in between time of our loss and Abram's pregnancy. And simply put, they just love me well. They know I make mistakes and they love me through them. They respect me as a woman and a parent, so when they walk away from me, I know that their communications about me are genuine. I don't feel like they play nice to my face but discuss my inadequacies after they're away. They support me and understand our birth decisions.... and not because we've all had the same experience-- we haven't. But they recognize, without question, why the preparation for the day is important to Tommy and I. We all parent differently, or don't parent quite yet ,but there's a unifying love that supercedes that-- Christ.

So, we all came together and ate a lot. And laughed. I even ate fudge pie while Heidi worked. We took pictures and talked. We dug through Heidi's oils and my living room smelled really good. And then when it was all done, I shared with them my personal concerns about my pregnancy and birth, and they all laid hands on me and prayed over me & those specific concerns. It was an incredible blessing.

 See, I totally ate that fudge pie ;)

 The transformation is really neat, so I'm totally sacrificing myself on the altar of dignity with my huge belly & the pregnancy stretch marks that I don't adore. Heidi free-handed the whole thing. 

 

 The beauty of henna--- it covers pregnancy stretch marks

 

 All done! Texting pics to my friend who was busy having her wedding hair practiced.

 

 My shirt is only up because the paste had to dry! Seriously, he is so low, he really IS going to fall out.

 

 One of my closest friends, Lauren, is due 3 days before me. And she has the cutest kind of belly that makes you think you shouldn't stand beside her while pregnant!

 

When I took the tape & paste off the following day, Abi Kate was with me. While I pulled each strip, she said, "Abram is coming!" I just looked at her and said, "I wish it was that easy!"

   She also tried on the tape strips.... just for good measure.

Then, two days later we celebrated Abram's impending arrival with a shower with more friends that I love. It was so sweet to open little boy packages with blue gifts inside. And I hate myself for walking out and leaving my camera at home. I'm so thankful for friends who love this little boy before he is even here.

We had maternity pictures done, and I loved looking at the end result of those pictures in comparison to the ones we had done two years ago-- to see how our family is and has grown. Several weeks before, I'd run into an accquaintance from high school that I hadn't seen in years at a restaurant. We chatted for a minute and after walking away, I remembered that she was now a photographer. So, after contacting her and realizing that she didn't think I was a total crazy hippie (or maybe she does but hides it really well!), we set up a time for pictures. Because she was so dedicated, the weather was pretty gray for the day we picked and she insisted on giving us quality pictures with the right lighting. So we took pictures of just my henna and met up again the following week-- and she was so very right (you can see more of Cody's work here.) I'm so grateful we opted to capture these moments. We will treasure them without a doubt.

 

 

 

 

 

I spent the next weekend celebrating two friends' little babies-- we are all due 4 days apart at the most. Clearly, August was a really good time to get pregnant. It's been fun being pregnant with my friends, sharing in all the joys and harder parts of pregnancy with them. ;)

And then this past weekend, we had the privilege to stand by friends that we've loved for a really long time as individuals, long before Tommy and I were ever married or even dated-- and we watched them become one under Christ. It was a beautiful wedding, and I love a good wedding. The decor was gorgeous and everything about it looked exactly like the personality of my beautiful friend-- from her hair to her dress, to the reception tables, to the aisle runner-- it was just her. I love when that happens. But what was more beautiful was the knowledge of what was taking place. Seeing two people who individually follow Christ, unite together to run the rest of their race here on earth as one instead of two-- that's what is beautiful. I cried when my little girl walked down the aisle throwing petals, stopping for a few seconds midway to consider the flowers in her bag and continuing  (partially because I was so relieved that she didn't run and ruin the wedding!) I cried when I saw my friend step onto the aisle runner with her dad, and not just because she looked physically beautiful (and she did), but because I knew the significance of what she was walking towards, the importance & reward of the covenant of marriage. And I cried because I caught the gaze of my husband standing across from me during the vows, and I knew we were both doing the same thing- remembering the moment when we made those vows and how they've unfolded for us in the last six and a half years, both feeling  very blessed to witness the beginning of the same thing for friends that we love who had waited so long for that day. And the little boy inside me started kicking while they took communion, and I thought about how things have come full circle for us inside our marriage, how the baby inside and the one out in the audience are the best results of those vows, so I stood there hoping the same precious things for our friends and cried some more.  

 Petal-throwing (Abi Kate is in the back)

 Bless the child who bruises just like her momma ;)

 

*I totally lifted these from Facebook. But Holly can also photograph your memories for you here

 

I could blame all those tears on pregnancy, but that's not it. I love the biblical design of marriage. I love its reflection of Christ and the church. I love my marriage. And I love the very selfless man with whom I share my home and heart. To share every aspect of your life with someone else- the good and the bad, the minute things and the really important ones, the physical and emotional and spiritual-- it is so good. It is work and requires personal sacrifice as you put the other person's needs first, but the rewards are  sweet. The intention put into the relationship and the friendship that runs deep makes the rewards even sweeter. So to stand in support of people you love embarking on that same journey, it is humbling. We are eager to see our friends experience such incredible moments together now instead of as individuals.   

 The Bentons! Woo hoo!!  (This photo is courtesy of Holly, too!)

 

We were resting between dances-- I could do one dance and then contractions demanded that I rest before the next one haha ;) We had a blast! May I also suggest that after looking at myself in this picture, when you're almost 9 months pregnant, you should under no circumstances, hunch down for a picture!

So, that brings me all the way til now....35 weeks. And in all likelihood, the countdown til Abram's arrival could be done on one hand. If he arrives before week 40, I will consider it a result of the Cha Cha Slide's demands to hop a bunch and take it down low at the reception this weekend ;) Our birth kit arrived this weekend, and while they're dragging their feet, the antenatal herbs I took in Abi Kate's pregnancy should be arriving any day now.... and it makes everything feel VERY real. I had the opportunity to serve as the "pregnant subject" for a midwife's certifying skills exam this past week, so I got to hear our little guy again and feel the relief that he's still hanging out LOA (come on, buddy-- just a few more weeks-- you can stay that way!) His kicks are starting to hurt more often now as he grows bigger and stronger. But even when they make me wince, I'm trying to thoroughly enjoy them, because I know I'll only be feeling him from the inside for a few more weeks...and that makes me even more sentimental and emotional than usual-- good Lord.
All of this to say, after several weeks of exciting and high-emotion events, I am one big blubbering mess of emotion these days. And I think I can blame that on the little boy who is currently taking everything I've got ;) March has been a really treasured month for us and for our friends. It has been filled with the reminders of God's grace and outpouring over His children. But I'm almost ready for April... ready to see Abram's sweet face and ready to hold the fullness of him in my arms. I'm thankful for sweet moments this month and for the ones that await us.

31 and Counting

Not my age--Weeks of pregnancy of course! ;)
 

3 weeks of the third trimester down and a few more to go. I've noticed subtle differences throughout my pregnancy between carrying Abi Kate and carrying Abram, and I'm afraid I'm going to forget them if I don't write them down... I've always heard that repeat pregnancies have a tendency to be more trying, particularly if they happen within two years of each other. I definitely don't think that's a hard or fast rule, but it has applied to me more often than not these last 7 months. I don't really think there's such a thing as an "easy" pregnancy. It's just not easy to develop and grow another human being. But in saying that, with the exception of our miscarriage, my pregnancies have been very uncomplicated. They are not easy, but they're also low-risk and very healthy-- fair trade off.

A few days into my third trimester, I started feeling pretty confident that yes, I had escaped the return of sickness....by midweek, my boy reminded me that I would not be escaping it for long. ;) When I was pregnant with Abi Kate, I was very sick in my first trimester. It tapered off around 16 weeks and just came occasionally (usually once or twice a week) during my second trimester. It returned with my third trimester, though not as intensely. Abram's pregnancy followed the same pattern, except more extreme. I was sick from 3 weeks pregnant with him until 20 something weeks. Very sick. Almost around the clock sick. There were times in those first 15 weeks that I wondered if I was toeing the line of hypermesis. It slowed down significantly around month 6, with mostly just nausea in the morning and sick a few times a week. However, I didn't get sick at all from weeks 26-28 (minus the stomach virus- seriously?! How fair was that?), and so I blissfully thought I was going to ride smoothly on into my final weeks of pregnancy. Just kidding. ;) It's still nothing like those first several months of sickness, so I'll take it.

 I remember around week 30 with Abi Kate telling Tommy that I was so unconnected to what was going on in my body, which was a bit unsettling for me. I've always felt ridiculously aware of my body's natural rhythms, what's going on with it and what isn't going on it whether I'm pregnant or not... but the third trimester really challenged that for me as my body prepared for labor and delivery. This time, I don't really have that same sense. I've done this before, so I usually know what's going on. I can tell relaxin is doing its job already (and I'm pretty sure my chiropractor can tell as well!). I can tell that my boy is growing hard and fast as my body and my physical abilities slow down. I really have to fight discouragement hard from that, but my head knows it's just an outward sign of what's going on inside my body-- and that is a very good thing. And my uterus has been reminding me for weeks that it remembers what to do when inhabited by a baby-- thanks, sister. No need to jump the gun on that one. ;)  I did a lot of contracting with Abi Kate in the weeks prior to labor so this is not a new sensation for me, but the intensity in progressive pregnancies has made me stop-- literally-- and say whew- again literally ;) Basically, everything has just happened faster and quite a bit earlier and sometimes a bit more extreme than it did in my pregnancy with Abi Kate. I anticipated the majority of that in my head, but my body is still usually shocked by the difference.

I carried Abi Kate down low and out front. I've carried Abram similarly, though shockingly enough, even lower. I feel sure that once I'm in labor and complete, he's just going to tumble out (wishful thinking, huh?!) His positioning and the fact that this is a repeat pregnancy have brought with it some new sensations that totally freaked me out when they first started happening-- like "OMG. There is so much pressure that if I stand up he IS going to fall out..." Thank goodness for great health care providers who know what's normal and who listen and encourage.

I get a little tickled by their differences in utero though and while I could be 100% wrong, I do feel it's the earliest indicators of personality. Abi Kate was so busy in the womb. She moved a lot and she was pretty fierce with her movements. If you pushed on her, she'd push right back. This is SO very much how she is outside the womb, too. She rarely sits still, takes curiosity to levels I could never have imagined. She's incredibly opinionated and bold in her emotions. And while I'm not usually a fan of stereotypes, she's definitely got the "red head" stereotypes down to an art form. When I carried her, I felt like she was going to be very sweet but very savory... and she is. Abram is her opposite. He does move more often now (though nothing compared to her) but rarely are his movements hard. If you push on him, he just gets still and relaxes. He's just more laid back, and I feel like that's how he is going to be on the outside as well. I'm certain he'll have baby and toddler moments like every kid does, but it's just the sense I get from him overall. Time will tell...

Abi Kate found our old fetal heart tone amplifier, and she runs up to me every day and says "I want hear Abram's heartbeat". Precious. (Please forgive the background-- that room was being emptied that day!)

I can feel the pull of myself switching gears this week, as the sense to begin preparing for his birth has moved to the forefront of my mind and my heart. I got out our Alpha Childbirth workbook so Tommy and I can review some things together in the coming weeks. I've been setting up my Itunes with the spiritual and scriptural affirmations to ready my heart. This is one area that's the same and yet different altogether once again. I remember anticipating the pain of labor, the process, all of it when I was pregnant with Abi Kate. I remember feeling fearful if I would have what it takes to make it through from beginning to end, what would unfold, how my body would respond and how her body would respond. This time, I know in general what to expect. I know how contractions feel inside my body. I know how to make it through them, one by one. I know the importance and support that will come from my birth team--they were hand picked for that moment when I hit the inevitable wall, the one that will make me say, "I can't do this anymore."  I don't have the same fear of the unknown anymore. I don't have the same amount of  concern of "can I do this at all, can I handle the pain". I've done it before and I will do it again. But I do know how hard those hours will be. I've thought in the last few days, "Are you sure you can do it again?" I remember well the pain and the surrender that has to come. And then I remember that the question of if I can do it, is all about me and the answers come...

One of the things that I treasure so much about birth is the preparation for it. Tommy and I were very selective in our choice for childbirth classes several years ago. I'd looked into several different types, the "big" ones that most people recognize by name. But all of them were missing the biblical aspect. Different methods work for different people but I just couldn't sync myself up with most of them until we found Alpha. Because the truth is, I don't believe in the power of suggestion. I don't need to retrain my mind for birth, I need to retrain my heart. I don't need a birth coach telling me what to do(not even my husband as fabulous in labor as he is) , I need the author and designer of birth guiding my spirit. I don't need to follow a set breathing method to make each contraction bearable, I need to rest in the promises of the one who has made a way for me already. I don't need human created phrases and sayings to empower me, I need the genuine power of God-breathed scripture. And I don't need to trust that my body is capable and strong because I'm a woman, I need to trust that my body is able because of Christ. And that... all of that... it takes preparation. It's like preparing for Easter with Lent, preparing for Christmas with Advent. And that's where I'm at right now. Yes, readying my mind with basic reminders and logistics and refreshing Tommy's memory as well, but really  readying my heart and my spirit for the task at hand.

I've often heard it said by people out in society, "Why does birth even matter? It's just the one day. It's the other days that matter." And in a culture that spends more time researching the type of television they're going to buy than how they're going to prepare to meet their child for the first time, I can't say it's that surprising of a response.  I always think about my grandmothers as to why it matters.... they may not remember what they did last week. But you know what they do remember with vivid detail and emotion 6 decades later? The day they met their babies. The way they were made to feel by the circumstances and the people surrounding it. And some of it is not so lovely. So the simplest answer for me is that yes, it does matter. It matters to me the way that I feel when I meet my babies for the first time. It matters to me that the people supporting me understand that this is not just a physical journey but a spiritual one as well.  It matters to me.... in infinite proportions. Just like parenting matters to me- it's my first day of parenting, and that one day with that one child, when I look into their eyes for the first time, it is never repeated. So for me, it matters-- a lot.    

And it matters because it is a sanctifying process and often a redemptive process, particularly when Christ is welcomed into the experience. It doesn't look the same way for everyone, nor would I assume that it would-- we are all different, with different bodies and different needs and different spirits. The place and the actual way a baby arrives, is not key.  But for the believer, birth (however it takes place) is simply faith in action. The same way that we take our faith and apply it to the workplace or to school or to difficult situation-- this is really no different. And just like surrender happens in our hearts at the precipice of decision and difficulty, surrender happens in birth too-- and when it does, the Spirit is active, so active. It is why I like labor and delivery, and why I look forward to Abram's. It isn't because the pain feels wonderful. It is pain and pain hurts. And it is the type of pain that doesn't matter what your pain tolerance level is at all- that just has nothing to do with it.  When I say giving birth to Abi Kate was one of the hardest things I have ever done, I mean it. It challenged every physical marker, every emotional and mental wall, and every spiritual stronghold I held in my life. And when all of that was laid down-- because it did have to be laid down-- the pain was met with peace, the sin of control was met with the grace of surrender, and the most natural process in the world, the one that happens with or without or say, became supernatural instead. This is why I'm readying my heart now, because I know myself. I know my desire to control. I know my hunger to dictate the circumstance. I know my heart is prone to wander, and I know it is hard to spiritually rest in the midst of physical pain. But if I want to be met by the Savior, if I want those moments to be filled with worship instead of filled with myself, and if I want to be taught and restored, then I have to prepare for that. My heart just doesn't naturally fall in line with those things.  

In her book Redeeming Childbirth, Angie Tolpin says it so beautifully and simply--

"It is not where the baby is born that marks a birth as redeemed. It is the act of surrendering our agendas to The Lord, seeking His will for our childbirth, and then experiencing His presence working in us, through us, and around us that makes it a redemptive milestone in one’s life.”

I love that because it's simple truth. It's not about specifics. It's about the intent and surrender of the heart.

We got to meet with our midwife yesterday and hear our little guy (who was not posterior!-- he might be the compliant child) ;) I don't care how many pregnancies I have and how far into them I am, the sound of their heart beating is incredible to me.. every single time. I can't ever just stop myself from laying there and smiling while she finds him. He/I measured exactly 31 weeks. It was such a blessing to speak honestly with her about my uncertainties and concerns and to not be rushed or discouraged. It's so important to have a care provider who just gets it.... and she does.

And it is indeed a super crappy picture, but here's a picture Em (and only  4 days later haha)

If you know much about positioning, you can tell from the lumps and bumps of my stomach how he's laying in this picture. So neat ;)  And the next thing I do will be to clean the mirror and make sure I don't leave streaks this time :/

He is growing :)

Questions and Answers

Happy Love Day, friends :) I should probably post something festive (I do like love!), but it's not. Sorry (and all the Valentine's Day haters rejoice).

This last week(s) has been decently trying for me. I think a lot of it has to do with pregnancy and physical limitations. I've noticed a definite slowing down in my body as I've entered into this final section of pregnancy. I've felt overwhelmed by the smallest of things both physical and emotional, by the preparations needed for Abram's birth and arrival, by parenting my toddler, certain that every day I have a hard day with her is a predictor of my inability to parent Abram well. I've had this longing to stop everything that I'm committed to, because I just want to sit down and think about this little boy-- not about other people and other things-- just him and who he is. In all the chaos of daily life, I've been fearful that I'm missing moments that should be about him. But life rarely offers us those time-stopping opportunities. We just have to engage in the midst of the busyness.

As I get closer to April, my thoughts have settled on a few things in particular, questions about how our family will change, concerns with parenting and life. I don't have too many concerns with Abi Kate loving Abram. Maybe I should. I am completely certain there will be a transitional period with her and that she will have days of acting out. But she's a helper, and she much prefers to be in the presence of other children instead of alone. She's never shown any real jealousy over Tommy or I holding other kids/babies-- she's normally just been curious.  My heart knows her heart, and I think she'll love him just fine. I fear I'm not going to explain myself well here, but I'll do my best...

As Abram's arrival inches closer my own doubts and fears of the unknown inch closer to my heart, making me question my ability to mother two children. I've reached the point of vulnerability in this pregnancy where the pessimism of others has the ability to permeate my thoughts in a way that is typically easier for me to reject.  I don't mind truth, even truth that's harder to embrace. I can appreciate truthfulness for all that it holds. I don't like cynicism and martyrdom. It's been difficult to escape the "you better get ready" comments in regards both to parenting more than one child and in regards to having a boy. Cultural as those comments may be, they really don't serve to encourage the listener or to help prepare them for anything specific. They just seem to be a way to "one-up" (which I personally think derives from insecurity). Kind of like when I hear people tell first time parents, "Oh you better sleep now because you'll never sleep again." That's not true. Of course there will be times where you'll lose sleep, but I think most expecting parents are pretty aware of that. It just feels like fear-based commentary, sweeping statements made to make the hearer feel less significant and unprepared. Usually, I can just acknowledge comments like that for what they are. But as I've struggled with my own concerns, those comments have found a wedge into my mind. There have been a lot of uplifting comments too which I'm so grateful for, but I guess within the last two weeks the others have just been louder. I've been very thankful in recent weeks for the close friends surrounding me that have encouraged me with honesty about the harder realities of parenting multiple children while also balancing it with all the wonderful things that happen with adding new life to the family. It's good to hear truth, and it's even better to see it displayed in their lives-- the way that they very clearly love mothering, even on hard days.

This weekend, I made a trip to GA to see one of my favorite mothers, and while my hips still have not forgiven me for those 8 hours in the car, when I made mention of what it would be like to parent two instead of one, her response was simply, "You will do beautifully. It's great. It is." It's funny how some people know just the right thing to say. I needed to hear that. I didn't need to hear a heavy dose of someone else's vague reality-- I will be getting my own experience with that in a few months. I did need encouragement. She didn't know that, but as usual, her love for motherhood shone clearly in her words and her actions. I felt the same way when I told my midwife, a mother of boys and girls, that all I've known is girls and I hear boys are really different... she said, "Nah. You'll figure it out." To her, it was just a passing comment. She probably doesn't even remember saying it, but I do. Because it implied that my ability to parent well rests much less on the gender of my child and more on my knowledge as a mother... and I so deeply appreciate that. 

I appreciate it for all that it awakens in me. We didn't enter into Abram's pregnancy lightly, and I don't hold a unicorns and rainbows theory about parenting multiple children. While I won't share our very specific prayers after our miscarriage, I will say that I believe his life has heavy purpose, otherwise I do not believe I would be pregnant. And in giving us this child, God in His wisdom obviously knew we'd be raising two young children. It's easy to forget His calling and His anointing. But these people reminded me of that-- just with their words. I am insufficient on my own, but in my weakness He is strong. Strong enough to equip me to mother two children.

But the deepest concerns that have laid on my heart most heavily is the change that will inevitably take place with Tommy and I. I've always been protective over my time with him because I believe it's vital to successful marriage. These days, I feel that pull even more, wanting to spend every second I can with him and shut out everything else before this big change happens in April. It's funny how our culture has a way of rushing things, urging us on to the "next big step" as soon as we complete the first one. It's a rare event to stop and cherish the moments we're in instead of anticipating the ones that will arrive. I'm guilty of that. Tommy and I were married for 4 years before having Abi Kate, and we dated for 4 years before getting married. 8 years of just us. At the time, I definitely thought about having a family often, finding myself ready to move to the next level, dreaming about it and how sweet it would be to have a big belly, to feel  a baby move, to watch Tommy snuggle a tiny one- our tiny one. I'm thankful for the people around us that said, "Take your time" and I'm thankful that God's wisdom overrides our own perfect plans. I look back on those years with just the two of us, and they are so precious to me now. I cherish them in a way that I wish I would've had the knowledge to do back then. I wish I'd spent a little more time savoring the days of us, and a little less time dwelling on the potential future. It wasn't because we were young that we needed years together. Younger or older, I don't think it has a ton to do with parental preparedness. I've seen great young parents and less than stellar older parents. But I'm glad we had them, because even in my own naivety of the transformation that was taking place, our hearts were so ready for Abi Kate and the changes parenting brings to a marriage. We found pleasure in the sacrifice of releasing time with just the two of us because we had waited for her as a bonded unit for 4 years. We communicated more easily about parenting issues because I knew him as husband and he knew me as wife so very well. Marriage is different than dating, and parenting inside of marriage is different than marriage alone.  It's not a bad thing at all-- it just requires more intentional effort. There is a spontaneity that must be sacrificed, the ease of independence as a couple to do whatever whenever that shifts. The simple tenderness of just the two of us fully investing in only each other to investing in another life, a life that is needy of love and direction and time from us both... It is a change. This new season, as we wait for another child to enter our home, I know that things will again change and be different. Getting away will be harder, staying deeply connected in the midst of two age two and under won't flow so easily as it does with just one. And sometimes, I find myself just missing the ease of those earlier years. Don't misunderstand--I don't think there's special as parenting with the person you are in love with, the person that really is your closest friend. Period. It is precious. The relationship evolves to new depths that could not happen without the experience of pregnancy and parenting. And Tommy and I are closer now than we were back then. But the knowledge of how children shift things has made me aware of my need to live in THESE moments, something I don't do well naturally. Not to dwell on the past, but to appreciate it for all that it was and all that it brought us. Not to dwell on the future where fear of the unknown permeates, but to rest in the assurance of our very deep love for each other. Not to long for easier moments that we will one day do again when these selfless days that we will surely miss slip by, leaving us as just us two once again. I want to simply enjoy THIS moment. The one where I'm at. The one where it's too hard for me to lift the toddler after prayer time at night. The one where we share our lives with just one little girl. The one where I feel a little boy kick me from inside. I'm a planner and a preparer, so staying in the moment is often hard for me. I want to fully appreciate these moments, and to anticipate the rewarding things that await our family instead of the difficult ones that society brings reminders of- the way it will be when Tommy and I see Abram for the first time. The first hours that we will spend with just each other and our new baby. The moment that we watch our little girl see her little brother for the first time. The way we will watch him sleep together at night, completely mystified that we ever lived a moment without him. The way we will value time with just each other when both our babes are asleep. The way our love will grow for each other and for our family as new life joins us.    

I'm convinced  the reason pregnancy lasts so long is because there's so much work to do, inwardly, before a baby arrives. There's still so much of myself that will have to die in the face of childhood needs. There's a great amount of sacrifice that my heart will have to yield to so I can lovingly respond to both Abi Kate and Abram. Every late night, every busy morning, every selfless moment where I must put them first...my heart is still being readied for those things. I can feel it. And I think the chaos of the previous weeks has been a quiet urging from God-- to recall my own insufficiencies and rely on His abilities instead. To make a practice of relying on Him for the easiest of things, things that would likely be easy targets of frustration when there is more than one child who needs me. I can always tell a difference when my efforts are of my own.

In the still moments, I remember that at some point between birth and these last two years, I've become a mother. I learned how to mother Abi Kate. I learned to pay attention and be sensitive to her individual needs. And I will learn with Abram the same way. It will be busy but that's what these years have been preparing me for. I won't do it in and of my own accord. I will do it with the calling that Christ has laid over my life to do it. And no matter what fears I have or what fears are spoken over me by strangers or people, that will be enough. There are worse things than little boys that scale furniture and two young children that need everything I can give at the exact same moment. I can think back to May and remember things that are worse indeed.

There are big changes on our horizon for sure. Some will be hard and some will be better than we dream. And in the waiting time, I am doing my best to treasure these days for all that they are-- even when they overwhelm me. I'm going to stop letting one hard day with one child make me certain that I can't mother two. I'm going to close my heart and my mind to the cynics. I'm going to spend time with the man that I adore and rest in the knowledge that we were designed to raise these babies together, even if life gets busier with the addition of Abram. I'm going to place my certainty in the One who equips me, the One who has knit these lives together,  instead of in my best efforts. Because the truth is, this was never about me anyway... these little lives and these days are always about Him.

3 Is the Magic Number

3rd trimester. 3 more months. 28 weeks. We’ve arrived in the third trimester, thankful for and anticipating this baby boy. I wanted to do a better job of documenting his pregnancy than I have, so I’m hoping I’ll stick to it in this last section of the journey. I hate that I didn’t do a better job of it with Abi Kate, so I’m going to attempt to do one every week from now until he arrives… we’ll see…

We’ve started busying ourselves with preparations for his arrival. Even though we still have roughly 12 weeks ahead of us, I know how quickly that time will pass. We’ve begun the process of playing ring around the rosie with all the bedrooms in our house. I get a little tickled thinking about the back and forth we’ve had about staying in our house or not- all 1200 square feet of it- good thing we all love each other a lot since we'll be nice and cozy! ;). It’s the home we bought the month before we were married, and 6 and a half years later it’s where we still live. When we first bought it, we were certain we’d move before having a baby because of it‘s size, hoping to keep it just as a rental property. Then, the housing market crashed, but moreover, my pregnancy was just too trying to even consider moving while also teaching full-time. So, we had a contractor close in our garage and build us a big storage closet for the few things we had in our garage at the time. As time got closer to adding to our family again, I just plain didn’t want to move or leave this house. It is where all of our big moments have happened. It’s where we stayed on our wedding night. It’s where we conceived our babies and where we’ve labored with them. One day in the not-too-distant future, we’ll need to move. But not right now. Simplicity and financial plans and my sentiments towards this tangible structure urge us to stay. That said, making space that will be livable and comfortable for us on a daily basis is our current chore at the moment. I don't love the chaos of things being out of place and moved around, but I know I will thank myself in a few weeks when everything has a home. ;)

Snow baby bump ;) Bye, feet!

Having another baby is a bit different in its process than the first baby. I know that I really have all I need for his first several months--  I have boobs. After doing this once already, I think I could pretty much get by with that alone. But we also have all of the baby gear from Abi Kate, and we did use it often so that’s nice too ;) I know that Abram doesn’t need much. He doesn’t need a bedroom-- he’ll be in our room for months. He doesn’t need a crib for the same reason. But, I need it for him. There is something so special to me about preparing a place for him in our home. For me, having his room painted and mostly ready and filled with things for him, it says, “Yes. You belong here. You belong with us. You have a space in our home and in our hearts. And we’ve been waiting…just waiting for you and for your presence.” I know it’s just a room. And I know it’s just a bed and decorations on the walls. And I know that he won’t even be utilizing that room and it’s furnishings hardly at all for a good while. But it’s part of my connection to his arrival, the proof that he is indeed coming. I know that sounds dumb considering the size of my belly, considering the sweet heartbeat that’s completely separate from my own, the one  I’ve heard countless times and rejoiced over, the baby I’ve seen on a black and white screen, and all the movements I’ve felt for months now…. Obviously, a baby is coming. But my heart has been resistant to trust that, to fully yield to his arrival.

A friend of mine told me that pregnancy after loss can often have dark moments, and she is right. At least for me. I don’t mean that to sound as depressing as it probably does, because there really are no right words to describe the inner workings of my soul and my emotion every time I hear Abram or feel him or see him. It’s a level of rejoicing that’s hard to illustrate. But there are moments of fear as well. Fear of the knowledge that everything can be right and then suddenly be wrong with no warning. Fear of the raw emotion that comes from losing. I know a lot of people hold their own personal “scare zone,” and once they’ve bypassed it, they breathe easily. That’s just not me, at least not this time. Pregnancy is such a vulnerable time in the hearts and lives of women. It’s one of the reasons why I love it. God is and has been so active in the insecurity, in the doubt, and ultimately, in the faith growing process.

I haven’t spoken much as of late about the fear in the process because sometimes, the most well-intentioned responses are hard to take. And, it’s hard for me to effectively explain that my fear and my joy have been balanced. I don’t sit around dwelling all day about my concerns. You're much more likely to find me dwelling on how he will fit into our family, what kind of mother I will be to him, and dreaming about those first moments together. I love this little boy with a ridiculous love already, and I am so eager to meet him. But there are moments of fear. Moments that are different than in Abi Kate’s pregnancy.

There are a lot of clichés and such about fear, and ones that I’ve had to stop and consider for their validity and how they actually work out in life. I hear a lot that as believers we just have to choose our response to fear. That any amount of fear felt is sinful because we‘re not trusting God. And after walking these last several months, I just can’t say I agree with either of those statements in their entirety- though at this time last year I probably would‘ve freely offered up either of those sayings myself. In the earliest months of this pregnancy, I spent a lot of time praying through my concerns and evaluating fear’s place in my life with Tommy and with my sister. Fear is an emotion. And our God is a God of emotion. In scripture, Jesus raises Lazarus from the dead. But before he does that, he arrives to find that Lazarus has died. And Jesus, in all of His perfection, doesn’t clap his hands and begin rejoicing-- He cries. In fact, He weeps. Jesus certainly didn’t need to cry-- being God Himself, He knew He could and would raise Lazarus within the hour. But I think the real perspective is that Jesus also felt. He was fully God and yet fully man, and in being human, He felt. He didn’t run from emotion and act like he’d had a lobotomy where He could do nothing but be happy. He felt sorrow, and that was ok. He didn’t dwell inside that sorrow, but he did feel it. In the Garden of Gesthemane, before he is arrested, Jesus prays that God the Father would let the cup pass from him. Scripture says that he was so overwhelmed, even to the point of death, that His sweat became like blood. If you’ve ever read anything about hematridosis, you know the incredible amount of emotional stress one must feel for the body to yield that physical reaction. Again, he felt; and not just happy or joyful. I remember telling Rachel one night that I was trying so hard to not feel fear, to only respond in faith to my concerns. She said two words, “Stop trying. You can’t try hard enough, be good enough, conjure up enough faith to bring peace to myself. You fail at it because it’s not your job-- it is the job of the Holy Spirit. Stop trying, and ask Him do it for you.” We put a lot of stock into our responses as believers, and I’ve found that usually only results in pride. Because then, we could pat ourselves on the back and say, “Yes. I overcame this fear. I responded in a holy fashion that pleased the Lord.” When in fact, if our only boast is in Christ, it is Him inside me that affords me the privilege of peace. It isn’t a simple “choice” that I made to put myself in a positive frame of mind.

My sister, who is not only a gifted counselor but also a beautiful writer, wrote an illustration that I love several months ago…. Her words are far superior to mine but I’ll do my best to paraphrase the concept. She said to imagine that you are in a vessel at sea in the midst of a violent storm. The waves are overtaking you. It is dark and you cannot see in front of you. Thunder and lightening, pelts of rain pour down upon you and in looking around, there is no rescue. But suddenly, you see a lighthouse and you are able to make it to concrete structure. You run inside and are shielded from the storm. The storm outside continues to rage, it does not stop. The wind and water pours and blows against the lighthouse. You may even feel fearful of the storm outside, but you are no longer accepting the blows of the storm. The lighthouse is absorbing those now. And you, in the midst of the storm, are kept safe. I love that illustration, because it is exactly how I have felt in these months many times. I have felt the rage of the storm, the possibility of everything coming undone. I have lived inside of the very little control that I have. I’ve had to surrender my need for control because I can’t dictate life’s circumstances.  But I have been kept safe inside of Christ. It doesn’t mean I have felt only peace and happiness. I haven’t. But I am no longer the one receiving the blows- Christ is. There may be fear of the storm, but I feel rest in the assurance of His protection in the midst of the storm. I do think fear can lead us to sin, and I would be lying if I said that it never has for me during this time. But my fear has also refined my faith. It has been in the midst of fear that I have found the very presence of Christ. It has brought me to the end of myself, which is the very place where I am most moldable.

So, I have felt and still do occasionally feel fear over Abram’s pregnancy even all this time later. I fear that I will have the carpet pulled out from under me the way I did in May. But when it arrives that fear continues to bring me to a place of surrender, and it makes my heart hunger for Abram’s arrival in a way that I do not believe I would have felt without it. It has almost been like an unlayering of my heart, a laying down of self and pride to reveal the softest and most vulnerable parts of myself. And strangely enough, it has been the tangible things that have worked in conjunction with this unlayering to make me ready to hold him, to connect to him, to see his face and stay up late at night watching him sleep.

Two weeks ago, I stripped and prepped a part of Abi Kate’s girly cloth diapers, and within a week and half I’d sold almost all of them, making a quick $300 bucks (see it also pays to cloth diaper-- literally), which I used to buy part of Abram’s stash (with 100 bucks left over- yay!). And as these teeny tiny diapers have arrived in my mailbox, it has made me want to count down the weeks like I did with Abi Kate. Just until I can hold him. I wasn’t really certain I was going to cloth diaper in the newborn phase…I’ve done the newborn phase before, and exclusive breastfeeding alone will keep you fully busy in those earliest weeks. I mean, you literally have about an hour between each feeding. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to tackle that along with a parenting a toddler and add in extra laundry loads…. But I rationalized, telling myself that I’ve breastfed before, so the mechanics should be pretty second nature for me at this point. And once that first little diaper arrived, well… I was sold. I’ve felt the need for simplicity in our home lately (really, don’t stand too still in this house… you might be taken to the Goodwill). I’m not sure if it’s from nesting or just a shift in myself, but less has been my aim. With Abi Kate, I had a million different diapers-- brands, types, fabrics, etc. This time I’ve felt the need to streamline things and cut back . I never would’ve imagined I’d be a prefold girl, but something about the basics of just cotton and a few covers-- the frugality and the simple consistency has appealed to me. So prefolds and pockets (only my favorite brand this time) are making up his stash. Almost all of his diapers have arrived or have been ordered. It makes his coming all very real. And I love it. I think once his room is ready (or mostly ready), I’ll be fully ready too.

A few of his cute little diapers... how can his booty be so small?!

We got to hear our baby boy yesterday and because my brain is on a need to know basis, I asked our midwife to tell me his position. I’ve been feeling like he’s been head down for about 2 weeks now, and when I’ve palpated my abdomen it felt consistent with that, but I just wasn’t 100% sure. Sure enough, he was hanging out head down (hallelujah)…. And posterior (not so hallelujah). So I spent all day pep talking my uterus about how that was just unacceptable and telling my sweet, unborn son, “No, sir” for the first time. ;) Really, it doesn’t matter so much how he’s laying right now. I know this. He could’ve been anterior two minutes later or even transverse and it still wouldn‘t matter at this point. I do all of my exercises, sit in certain manners, and have regular adjustments to line him up appropriately anyway. BUT… I’m not taking any chances so don’t be getting too comfortable like that, son.  

Despite my massive belly, I’m only at a 7 pound weight gain, which is quite a bit less than where I was with Abi Kate at the beginning of my third trimester. I’ll probably start packing it on any day now. ;) Or I’m just going to have a huge baby (which is a statement that I hear often--- one that, for the record, I do not adore).

I'm so eager to meet this little boy, to see him in our home, to love him with our actions and not just with our hearts. So bring it on, April...we're almost ready for you!

Tea for TWO!

I had really good intentions of a follow-up post, a real one, after the last one filled with ridiculousness. But, it’s like the universe read that post and said, “Oh really, Katie? You thought that was a big deal?” So, promptly the following Monday I had to get a new tire after running over a bolt. Later that day, our laptop stopped working and we took it in assuming it would be a quick fix only to find out that the motherboard was gone and we needed a new computer altogether. And one other crazy thing that now escapes me happened that week, too. I’ve lost track of the crazy. My sister offered us her laptop for the following week until we could get to Best Buy one night and go buy a new one. Even that plan got thwarted…which you will get to read about ;)  But, the positive in all this is that I have Rachel’s laptop, and with it comes Rachel’s music. And that is a very good thing. 

That following week, we were gearing up for Abi Kate’s birthday party, so every night we had something to drop off or pick up or get together. I’m not a great party planner, but I really love putting her birthday parties together. Even when in the preceeding days I’m stressed that everything won’t come together. I was so excited for her party this year because it is the first year she had an understanding of what was going on.

In the months before her birthday, she started making “tea” and “coffee” every day, multiple times a day for us. That prompted me to decide that she should have a tea party for her second birthday. The week of her party, anytime she opened saw something with tea cups or tea pots she’d say, “Tea Party!!” I think I was equally as excited as she was for this party. This is also the first year that she has an understanding of friendship. She loves her little friends, and asks for them usually once a day if not more, by name. I couldn’t wait for her to have them all in one place together. 

 Kid's Food Table/ Birthday Book "Sign-in"

 Tea Party table

 All the little girls really did sit down and eat together! And drink "tea" (aka apple juice) together out of their little tea cups! So sweet!

 Our 2 year old!

 Friends!

 Blowing out candles :)

 Playing...

 And snacking...

 And lovin'...

Tea for two and two for tea!

We had the kitchen for the girls to cook in, dress up, and the big slide my parents got her for Christmas. There were so many fairies and beads and tea cups and squeals as they took turns going down the slide I almost couldn’t stand it-- and I mean because I loved it so much. She was completely taken with her little friends and playing with them and it was such a fun time just to watch her enjoy. I could’ve cried just watching her. She’s evolved from this little baby into this little girl with a big personality, full of extremes in her emotion like her Momma and full of her Daddy’s mannerisms and soft heart. She has the ability to wear me out and melt my heart all within a 2 minute span of each other. 

I was so thankful for the people in that room (and a few that were missing, too). They know her and they know us. They know that she isn’t a perfect child and they know that we aren’t perfect parents, and they just keep on loving her and loving us anyway. They keep investing in us and in her, choosing to dwell on the good things she does and we do, encouraging us as we parent her and encouraging her when they see Abi Kate growing. They have stayed near to us in hard times this year and genuinely celebrated the happy times with us. Their children have invested in her, playing with her and setting examples for her to learn from. To be surrounded in a room full of people like that… it is good. Abi Kate has learned in this year what friendship is at its most simplistic level. What it means to spend time with others and to put others first. She’s seen what it means to be the offender, to be forgiven , and to have restored relationship-- kids are so good at that. She’s learned what it is to forgive others-- kids are good at that, too. Funny how forgiveness, true forgiveness- the kind that fully releases the offense and returns immediately to loving the offender-- happens so easily in the hearts of little ones yet becomes so much harder as we get older, or at least to me. It seems outlandish that such big things would be learned at such a young age, but I'm certain they are. I've learned much about my own weaknesses from watching her...and it makes me want to press harder into Jesus so I can love all people that way, easily and simply. I am so deeply thankful that she is growing up in the knowledge of what it is to be a friend and to have friends and to keep them-- that others have given her that opportunity. There are a lot of things we hope for Abi Kate, and one of those things is that she would be a lover of people. I sat on the couch, and looked around at the adults and the kids, and felt so grateful that these people both big and little have placed themselves in her life so that she could learn those things, and moreover that she could apply them, in ways that I often struggle to as an adult. 

Last year it was really emotional to see her turn 1. There’s just something about that first birthday as a mom I think. This year, I thought about the two days before… one of the best text messages ever received from my doula- “Don’t have sex tonight, ok? Tell Tommy I’m sorry.” It had snowed earlier that day and she was iced in on back roads. I laughed when I remembered that. I thought about the day before, cleaning my house and watching movies with Tommy- the sweet solitude and the ease of spontaneity--savoring the last day of just “us,” though we didn't realize it at the time.  I even told him, “Babe can you believe 2 years ago today it was just us two?!” I thought of that night, the realization that she was probably coming in a few hours. And I of course, thought of the moment that my midwife handed me her warm little body, breathing her in, and the breath-taking realization that she looked exactly like her Daddy. I thought of all our moments of parenting her within this last year-- the hard ones and the easy ones. The shifts that took place in our family and the ways that she softened the hurts and made the sweetest moments sweeter. And I thought about the future-- what she will learn as a two year old, how she will become a big sister in this year. I still cried when we laid her in her bed that night, realizing that another year with her has passed. She rolled over in her crib and waved goodnight, snuggled her Minnie Mouse. She’s so grown and yet so little and I just wanted to soak in those moments because I know they will pass with an intensity that I could never be prepared for. 

Snuggling my big girl before nap time after her party

 Her birthday morning, ready for church & a little bit extra ;)

The days before her party I felt this recurrent need to just pray over Abi Kate’s health. So, I did. I prayed that she would stay healthy through the weekend and through her birthday so she could just fully enjoy them. She did. And sure enough, the night after her birthday, I woke up at 4:30 am to hear her in the monitor saying, “Oh my goodness. I need wash hands!” I didn’t think anything of it at first because she talks in her sleep, it’s not odd for her to talk or jibber in the middle of the night and go right back to sleep. But she repeated this statement and then added, “I need wash mouth! I need drink!” I just thought she had woken up and couldn’t go back to sleep, so I went into her room and sure enough-- vomit. Her first stomach virus. At least we made it to age 2? And bless her, she DID need to wash her hands and mouth-- and she definitely needed a drink and new jammies and new sheets. I was doing good cleaning up, and then my body remembered I was pregnant and I started gagging, so I called out for Tommy. We cleaned her up and laid her back down, both mentioning that we felt kind of queasy too and maybe it was just the dinner we ate. At 6:00, we woke up to the same, “I need wash hands! I need drink!” I was still nauseated, but let’s be honest, that’s just par for the course for me. But by midday, Tommy and I were both sick. As were various other friends from her birthday party, everyone’s sickness beginning within about 5 hours of each other-- 4 kids and 6 adults… lovely. Come on down to Abi Kate’s party, make sure you take a tea pot cookie, a balloon, and a little bit of norovirus as a parting gift! :/ She definitely shares her Daddy’s immune system (thank God he passed that on)-- she got sick those two times and that was it, though her appetite took about 3 days to return. She is SO much more resilient than me.  It seemed the majority’s lasted between 48-72 hours. Today is Thursday. It is the first day I have felt like a regular person since Sunday. The awful sickness stopped after 24 hours but the remains just hung around. I do not recommend getting a stomach virus while pregnant. Ever. Around 8 pm I started to get nervous that I was dehydrated. I hadn’t been able to keep any food down (the 4 saltines that I tried) and I couldn’t keep any liquids down. And the Braxton Hicks contractions were becoming a bit more, “Ow. That really hurt.” Abram was moving all around, more than he ever does--but I started to get a little freaked out nonetheless.

You know how when you’re caught up in a moment it feels really big and way more serious than it is-- like for example, I was certain I was going to die on the floor of the bathroom. So there I am, certain that death is imminent, and pretty dang sure I was headed towards dehydration-- and all the images of the NICU and IV lines and hospitals started popping up in my head. I texted Gaylea, my doula/midwife assistant, because, well-- I think she knows my freak-out level well enough by now to not be surprised… I asked her if there was anything to be concerned about, and sure enough she confirmed the contractions… and also reminded me of a few things to try. Am I the only one who responds really poorly to being  “in the moment?” Like I forget everything I’ve ever learned about pregnancy and should do?! (Clearly, I am NOT the person you want near your side in a serious situation. I’ve proven that I will just stand there and freak out. At least when the situation pertains to me.) Thank God for wise care givers and for my sister who ran to the store for coconut water and Epsom salts and dropped them on my porch. Much as I hate it, that coconut water stayed down and the bath helped too. The next day, I ate ¼ of a piece of dry toast around 11:00. And my sweet little Abram who had been moving and kicking non-stop finally settled down… He was hungry, people! How sad is that?! Starving my baby before he even arrives! (This also taught me that when he does arrive and when he’s hungry, I better be ready to feed little brother right then… I don’t need to be waiting around and taking my sweet time-- he doesn’t appreciate that. When he needs to eat, he needs to eat.)

It’s been a fun few weeks in our house ;) I think everything is finally settling down a bit-- at least for the moment. I’ve done a terrible job documenting Abram’s pregnancy and I have full intentions of doing a much more sufficient job of that in my third trimester, which is only a few days away… My word.

But here's a really fabulous 27-week shot for you Tommy took while I was putting shoes on for church... He's a looowww rider...

 All in all, we’ve had a busy but great month. I can’t believe we have a two year old little girl and that we’re on the downhill slide to meeting our little boy. It’s one of those moments to stop and soak in… because this season will be past all too soon…