You know, people tell you that pregnancy is challenging, but it's one of those pieces of advice you can't fully grasp until you're feeling it. Literally feeling it. About a month ago I chronicled my latest and greatest meanderings on what it is to be a preggo-that is how I have affectionately labeled myself throughout this BUMPY (get it, because I have a bump?) ride- and I must tell you, my thoughts and, ahem, my belly, have only grown since. Now 11 pounds(since my last doctor's visit 2 months ago), 2 long airplane rides, multiple holiday parties and 1 tall box of Godiva chocolates later(we're talking a three tier courtesy of my WONDERFUL boss) I am a Waddling Wonder. And I definitely have to continue choosing joy over fear.
First trimester was scary and new because I had never before been pregnant. It's all still new, by the way, but my curiosities are different.
Before, I was nervous that: -something could happen to the baby - something could be wrong with me -Babe-o wasn't moving enough, or at all, actually
...among other things based on readings and information I gathered from friends...
And now, it's: - finding the perfect name - making space for this kid - taking classes - registering for all the "right" (smart, safe, and quality) products - reading the right books - finding a DOULA( more on that later...)
It's enough to make my head spin! I dream in lists, and awake with a drive to accomplish everything ASAP. With the flurry of the New Year and the bustle of creating the ideal resolutions, everything sort of tangles together. The lists are limitless...my brain feels like spaghetti(...which actually sounds DELICIOUS right about now...)
YET Here are the facts: My Babe-o is coming this year and that is a good thing from the Lord. I can either rest in and enjoy the blessing, or I can plan myself to death and miss it completely.
So, today [and everyday] I am embracing the reality that these lists must be surrendered to Him day-by-day, minute-by-minute. I cannot accomplish anything in my own, and worrying only wastes my time and my energy. Instead, I can recall His faithfulness and move forward in it. I can remember all of the seemingly insignificant ways throughout the process--and the day-- that God has reminded me of his love. It's those little things that remind you of the BIG THING that God is doing...and the BIG VICTORY we have because of the Gospel.
I can remember everysmallvictory and live in hope.
That's all the energy I can muster for now...
The cycle spins on: eat(something salty, naturally, then something sweet) potty, fluids, eat, potty...etc
You get it.
P.S. Babe-o DID kick at 19 weeks, and it hasn't stopped since. :)
Yet this I call to mind and therefore I have hope:
22 Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. 23 They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.
Ever since I found out that there is a tiny human growing inside of me, it feels like nothing has been the same. And I'm not just talking about my waist size. My hormones alone have been...well, extreme {to say the least}. Add that to pumping an extra 50% more blood{which means shortness of breath, fatigue and tripling my water intake} plus cravings/ food aversions and you've got the recipe for chaos. Or at least, in my brain. That's another thing: I forget things constantly. So much so that I keep a running list of things people say, what I'm supposed to do, etc. This leaves my already ADD functioning brain majorly crippled. It's not a bad thing. It's just a different season. In fact, this baby{Babe-o, as I fondly call him/her} is a blessing. But it's one of those blessings that sometimes feels like a burden. Call me crazy if you want. I'll probably get some kind of reprimand for being so honest. But someone very wise recently reminded me that honesty makes you more approachable, and that's what I'm aiming for here, folks. I don't want to paint some façade of a perfect life. I want to be raw. My goal is {as always} to make you feel a little less crazy normal by sharing some of my craziness life experiences with the world. If you're still reading, kudos to you, Glen Coco!
The word burden has developed a negative connotation. It's sad, really. I feel sorry for burden. Poor burden. People hear it and instantly think you mean you're dissatisfied with what you've got. But the noun burden literally means "that which is carried". No joke. It's just something you carry. I could say that my purse is a burden. Or my hair is a burden('cause, you know...I carry it on my head...and stuff). But that doesn't mean I'm saying the burden is unwanted.
I realize you probably wonder where this is going. I'm getting there, promise.
So if this Babe-o feels like a burden, it's because it is. Physically, my body changing drastically. My hips are expanding, and my tummy looks like a semi-inflated beach ball. My clothes aren't quite as loose as they used to be, and I fall asleep a lot sooner than my standard bedtime. My mood shifts periodically{sometimes I wonder if Relient K wasn't totally off about their point that emotional girls should all wear mood rings. Except, I think only preggos should. Might make things a little easier on the rest of the world...}. And my desire for food is ongoing. BUT I'm thankful for it all: the growth, the discomfort, the overwhelming truth that this person inside of me has to get out somehow{WHAT?! I still haven't come to grips with that one. Mr. Stork, you're coming, right? We'll do this together, yeah? Great :) } I want this burden. I want this thing that I am physically carrying inside of my body. Not because it's such a cool experience(don't get me wrong...it is amazing!) but because God has given it to me. So everything that happens is a blessing.
When I first found out about the baby{at around 6 weeks} I was blatantly attacked with fear. What if the baby doesn't get the nutrients it needs? What if my body can't handle this? Or worse: what if this baby doesn't make it? What will I do?
That is Satan's Game. He wanted me to partner with the lie that God is not in control.
When I was about 9 weeks along, some of my lab work came back abnormal. I listened as the nurse on the phone calmly explained that my child could have the disease, and that my husband needed to be tested as well. She murmured something about Genetic Counseling and potentials risks involved, but the words Cystic Fibrosis just kept flashing through my brain. I called Tyler back and together we decided that he would get tested. Then, I researched{if you're preggo and wildly imaginative, don't do a lot of this...}. Then, I buried my head in my pillow and cried.
It wasn't until I read the Apostle Paul's words in Philippians, that my perspective changed:
I know what it is to be in need, for I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do everything through him who gives me strength
-Phil. 4:12-13
If the Apostle Paul--who faced prison, floggings, stoning, shipwreck-- can be "content whatever the circumstance", then so can I. What PEACE lies in believing that!
I am now about 17 weeks along. My story progresses with the bump. I work, play and generally do life with it. Sometimes the bump slays me, and I can barely keep my eyes open long enough to type, but other days, I feel energized and healthy. And every day, whatever the circumstance, I am reminded to be thankful.
The current lie I am tempted to believe is that Babe-o won't move, or that something terrible could be wrong because I haven't felt anything yet. In every week of this journey, there are potential "plagues" to entertain.
But if I have learned anything so far, it is this: The Enemy wants for me{or you, if you're a preggo like me} to lasso the lies; to let them entangle me and cultivate fear. But GOD--the Creator of both ME and my Babe-o, My Abba--graciously {and daily} ushers me into freedom with HIS truth--Babe-o is "fearfully and wonderfully made"(Psalm 139) and I must "Seek the Lord and his strength continually"(Psalm 105).
So yes, Babe-o is a burden. But I carry it joyfully and peacefully in daily dependence upon my Savior.
And each day I am presented the challenge: Will you partner with fear or freedom?
Today{and every day} I choose freedom.
This entry, of course, begs a Braveheart reference:
“Blessed
be the Lord God of Israel, for he has visited and redeemed his people and
raised up a horn of salvation for us…that we, being delivered from the hand of
our enemies might serve him without fear,
in holiness and righteousness before him all our days” (Luke 1: 68-69, 74-75)
These
words come from Zechariah, the earthly father of John the Baptist, shortly
after John was born. Zechariah had been a servant of the Lord all of his life.
He was a priest, so this idea of living in service to God was no news. But learning to live without fear was.
We don’t know much of Zechariah’s character, but we do know that he was a
righteous man, who faithfully followed the Lord’s statutes (1:6-7).He pointed the people to God, and he was
married to a godly woman. But when an angel visited him and told him he would
have a son in his old age (though he had prayed for this), “fear fell upon
him”(Luke 1:12). He didn’t believe that it was possible. In fact, he demanded
evidence (vs. 18). Because he doubted, his mouth was closed until the baby was
born. That would have been embarrassing, wouldn’t it? Not being able to
communicate with friends and family, or order your favorite tapas, pray at
dinnertime, yell at a football game, or sing Christmas carols (well, they didn’t
have football back then and they didn’t sing Christmas carols,
because…uh…Christmas hadn’t happened yet…er…but you get the picture) and all
because you just had to question
God’s plan. But this was his lot for the next 9 months. I probably wouldn’t
have been too pleased with the situation. I would’ve felt so helpless, and
ashamed. And I think Zechariah probably felt that way, too, at first. But the verses
above tell me that eventually he put on his “big boy pants” and decided to
learn from his mistakes. Verse 63 tells us that while the family was arguing
over what the baby should be called
and came to him for the final word, he wrote “His name is John”. What happened
next? His “tongue was loosed” and he began blessing God! Well, his friends and
family members were stunned, and maybe a little scared, but Zechariah was
not. He had been released from fear! Filled with the Holy Spirit, hefelt complete freedom, and humility. And he
blessed the Lord.
“…That
we, being delivered from all our enemies, might serve him without fear, in
holiness and righteousness before him all our days…”- (vs.74-75)
I’m going
to be transparent with you: I borrow fear. My vivid imagination sometimes
expects or conjures the worst, and fear becomes my closest enemy. I fear the unknown…which
means I fear the future, darkness, etc. You name it, and if I don’t have a plan
marked out in my brain to tackle it, then I’m afraid of it. My husband and I
were having a conversation about this last night. You see, I’m a little afraid
of death. Though the thought of being with Jesus face-to-face excites me, death is still the unknown, so there is fear. This does not honor God. What Zechariah
realized—and proclaimed—was that any fear God’s people harbor is not grounded.
He knew that because of the sacrifice the sweet little one born of Mary would
make, God’s people are wholly free, covered in the grace and righteousness of
Christ.
Theologian
Matthew Henry explains it well: We are therefore delivered
from the iron yoke of sin, that our necks may be put under the sweet and easy
yoke of the Lord Jesus. The very bonds
which he has loosed do bind us faster unto him,Psa_116:16. We are hereby enabled to serve God without fear.We are therefore put
into a state of holy safety
that we might serve God with a holy
security and serenity of mind,
as those that are quiet from the fears
of evil.
This is the Gospel. Because of the perfect
sacrifice of Jesus, there is nothing to fear—in life and in death. We can trust
him completely. All of these miniscule fears I create are not from Him and I
cannot be bound by them. God has not called his children to live in fear, but
to serve “in holiness and righteousness before him all our days”.There is no time for fear when we’re happily,
quietly resting in Him.
Geeze.More
and more I realize how little I know and
how unworthy I am apart from him.
This week, my precious little Lab Shiloh injured her
right paw.A couple of days ago when our
garage door was open, Shiloh took her obvious opportunity to go racing out of
the house. She sped down the stairs, down into the garage, and out into our
townhome complex. Naturally, I ran after her, looking just as crazy as I’m sure
my neighbors imagine I am.She then decided
that she would poop on the sidewalk AND terrorize a new resident. Great. When I
finally caught her, she was limping pathetically, and my anger dissolved. I surveyed the damage and found that her paw
was bleeding a bit between the toes. I tried to clean the area as best I could,
but as soon as I touched her paw, Shiloh yelped and whipped back in pain,
almost biting me.Now, every time I sit
down to play with her, Shiloh looks at me and walks away…probably because she
thinks I’m trying to hurt her. The truth is exactly the opposite.I love my dog. She is not a human, but she’s
my company when my husband is away at sea (which he just happens to be for the
next two weeks). Call me crazy, but sometimes I even have conversations with
her. She is always by my side, and she’s there waiting on me when I get home. Plus,
she’ll cuddle with me whenever I need it, which seems to be more often than not(it’s
like dogs have a sixth sense about these things or something).She’s my pal.
This morning I found myself weepy over her lack of affection. I contemplated
writing a desperate email to my husband about how sad I feel now that she won’t
come near me, but then I realized that he, unlike myself, probably has too much
going on to be bothered with my hormonal ramblings. I know that he would care,
but I decided to spare him this time.So, I was left to my journal. At my kitchen table, I tearfully penned:
Lord, I know
this seems childish, but please make Shiloh trust me enough to come to me.
And then, almost audibly, I felt the Lord reminding
me: I have the same desire for you.
If you know me well, you know that I worry about the smallest details
of life. I mean, I am the girl whose heart starts racing and stomach starts
churning whenever we have an icebreaker at Bible study because it means I’ll be
forced to talk. And if you asked me to
share my testimony to a room of people, I might just run out crying. I don’t do
well with being out of control of my personal “bubble” and I start sweating
profusely if traffic makes me 2 minutes late. Sometimes it seems like I let
this anxiety rule my life. It’s not
right, but it’s true. Anxiety is too much a part of my life. In fact, I would
venture to say that it shouldn’t be a part of my life at all.There is a difference between being concerned
and planning well, and partnering with anxiety. And I’m pretty sure that because anxiety is my
“life crutch” it means that I don’t trust the Father. I don’t trust him to
provide faithfully(as he always does) or to be in charge of the chaos that is
my life(which, incidentally, probably would NOT be as chaotic if I just let go
of control)Honestly, my thoughts are so
divided that I don’t go to Jesus because I don’t know what it means to rest. In
his grace. In his truth. In his calming embrace( and no…I did not mean for that
to rhyme…this is what happens when you spend the majority of your day with
children J )
Jesus knows me. He loves me. And he desires that I come; with my fears, with my
anxieties--with all of these things that keep me from experiencing freedom--and
to lay them down. It’s that simple.
Therefore I tell you, do not
worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you
will wear. Is not life more important than food, and the body more important
than clothes? Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store
away in barns, and yet your heavenlyFather feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they?
Who of you by worrying can
add a single hour to his life?
Matthew
6:25-27
PS: Shiloh is fine J
She is being treated for an infected baby toe. She’s in some pain, but she’s
still acting like a crazy puppy, so all is well, in case you were wondering.
