A New Way to Count

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Before you grew in our home, hope did. For a long time, sorrow slept where your crib stands. Prayers and tears spilled on the floor that now belongs to your powerful little stomps.

But God put a new song in our heart when you showed up about a year ago.

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After just enough pushes on November 2nd, 2016, you showed up at 1:30pm on the dot. For an hour, we could only hold you. We couldn’t even speak your name because we feared words would contaminate the perfection of your arrival. We held you and wept with happiness. God reclaimed much in that moment. I don’t think the memory will ever not move me to worship the Creator. In the last year, you have moved your own mountains by growing and giggling without bounds. We’ve been equally challenged and overjoyed to have you in our arms. You are worth every night, every dirty bottle, every smell that I never knew existed. I’d gladly trade my best day without you for an overwhelming day with you. You are everything I desired in my heart and now that you’re here, the prayers multiply. We want you to seek God and find him early. Before all the earthly titles are thrown at your feet, we foremost want you to be kneeling at His. I know this story will never age to us, but God has an even bigger story, and this is just a very tiny piece of it. I can’t wait to tell you the rest.

But for now, happy birthday.

Life Changer

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Forgive me. I know too many days have slid by without me writing my way through motherhood. But as the title hints, life has changed. Quiet moments to sit and type have been replaced by explosions of giggles. Hours where I could hide away and find clarity and now just seconds I can escape to go potty, maybe if I hurry. Things are different – our house, our marriage, my body. Life is very different. The things I spent so many years praying for are here and it will never be the same. I thank God that He hears us when we call and in His sovereignty, chooses how to answer our pleas.

My answer is nearly seven months old. She weighs about 18 pounds, but that is nothing compared to her long-legged length; she is over twenty-six inches long. She can smile at anything. There’s one curl of blond hair that stick out on the left side. She can roll over, spin around on her belly, and scoot anywhere she needs to go. She eats anything that can fit in her mouth – spoonfuls of fruits and veggies, slobbery toys, or her own toys. She is a firecracker when she’s awake and a zombie after nine. I am so proud of her. I love to read stories to her at night and pray over when the last bottle is empty.  Things aren’t always fun (and rarely are they easy), but time seems to fly by.

I guess it’s true what they say – that the days are long, but the years are short.

Here’s a few of our most recent family photos:

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I Owe Her

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I wanted it. I prayed for it. No, I earnestly stormed the gates of Heaven begging for it. And when motherhood greeted me, I still wasn’t ready. 

There’s no amount of books on earth to school you on the highs and lows of parenting. There’s not enough classes to train you, enough research to perfect the mother in you. It’s a fact. And I never understood it until recently, but no one knows exactly what to do. You live and learn moment by moment, or diaper by diaper. And quickly I discovered that I owe her. My mom. 

She hasn’t had to run to my rescue recently, but boy, do I appreciate her more now knowing all she did for me. She deserves for me to stop typing, drive to her house, and fall at her knees in gratitude. Moms do everything and I never realized it until I became one myself. I really do owe her. 

One thing I haven’t had to learn in how to love Dawson. Before I saw her face, before I pinned her name, I loved her. When my favorite show is on TV, I’d rather watch her. She makes 3am seem not so unreasonable. Even on her full-fledged fussy days, she’s still my first pick. She’s everything I’ve ever loved about life wrapped into one person. 

And for that, I owe her. 

Say Hello

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She is far more precious than rubies. – Proverbs 3:15

I have finally scraped up the time and energy to introduce you to this wildflower. As you already read here, Dawson made her way into the world on November 2nd. It’s mind-blowing to think she is already a month old.

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She Has Arrived

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On November 2nd, 2016 at 1:30 in the afternoon, a seven pound four ounce beauty breathed air for the first time. All nineteen and a half inches laid at my waist as her Daddy cut the cord. A very long and natural labor, followed by hours of pushing, produced the most amazing life-changing moment where a husband and wife were promoted to parenthood. 

And it was, by far, the most precious moment of my life. 

The Greater Story

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I have not stopped thanking God for you. I pray for you constantly, asking God, the glorious Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, to give you spiritual wisdom and insight so that you might grow in your knowledge of God. – Ephesians 1:16-17

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I don’t know that this image will ever get old; if the sight of it will ever made my eyes not water. God has been so incredibly gracious to us. And when I try to sum it up, when I try to measure all of His goodness, I fail. There aren’t enough buckets in all the world to capture His love, not enough days in the calendar to go back and trace His miraculous plan for our life.  I try my best to explain to others how God has moved in us and somehow I feel like my plain English only muddies the waters of His perfection.

But deep down, there is a greater story.

Yes, the one where the woman pleads and begs for a child is a well-known one; the one where her long time prayers are finally answered will always be a personal favorite on my shelf of God stories. But deeper still, is the story of a woman somewhere who still prays, who still chooses to wake and worship the only One who holds the power to give her heart’s desire, yet in His sovereignty, has chosen not to. She will always be my hero. For many years, I battled to play by her rules – to wear her brave face, to lace her worn shoes. Many miles were spent trying to learn how to be someone so strong.

Since the plus sign greeted me, I often think of the time Jesus healed a paralyzed man in the gospel. When He pinched a few nerves by asking the eyebrow-raising question of, “Is it easier to say, ‘your sins are forgiven’ or ‘get up and walk?'” I often wonder if people see my adoration for Christ as a new-found worship for the One who makes me a mother. Or do they see the same woman who loved Him in the trenches because even still – He healed my sin? The greater task, you see, is taking a depraved heart as mine and setting it straight. Resolving my infertility was merely a gift, a wave of the hand, a nod to a prayer, but my sin problem – was much more difficult to defeat. God had to send His own gift, His own wave of the hand, His own child to earth – to live and die for me. Not to be pricked and merely slandered, but to be broken and poured out, so that His perfection could atone my imperfections.

The greatest feat Christ has done for me didn’t occur one March morning when I saw two parallel lines. And as much as we prepare for it, ten weeks from now, God willing, there will be a very bright day after a very long season of waiting, but even that, in all of its glory, cannot compare to the morning my God came from heaven and chose to die for you and for me.

There’s a greater story beyond the filled womb and it is the story of the empty tomb. I pray that my lips will never stop quoting it, never cease to talk about it.

Little ears will soon hear about all the things God has done – big and small. I pray that Dawson is quick to learn she is just one of those great things on His long list of miracles.

If I have learned anything: we cannot exaggerate His love for us.

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23 Weeks

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I wonder if I will ever get past the “pinch me” stage. A stranger will ask, “girl or boy,” another will question, “is it your first?” And while my mouth answers, all my head can think is that someone can’t possibly be asking me those questions. And in a weird way, I hope I never get past this stage – never forsaking the absolute gift that it is.

Over the halfway mark, I am definitely showing these days. I no longer feel mistaken for someone with a pudgy, beer gut. Despite the nausea (which still has not subsided), I have managed to snag a few pounds here and there. Maternity clothes are a necessity and I must say, I don’t look forward to returning to clothes that I actually have to zip and button.

As for Dawson, she is quite active. She flips and kicks most of the night away. I suppose she sleeps most of the day minus sudden stabs to let me know she’s okay. And I sure appreciate those not-so-gentle reminders. We go back to the doctor next week for a routine visit. I’m hoping my levels are up because these iron pills are no joke.

The summer is closing and while I am (mostly) excited to return to work, I worry about all the things that are still left uncrossed off my to do list. I wanted to have the nursery near completion. Her painted room is waiting for the truck to deliver her furnishings – the crib, dresser, and comfy chair. My main goal this summer was to get that accomplished and depend on the showers to help me get the drawers stacked, the walls covered, and the closet full. With the amount of random gifts we have received so far, I have a feeling that will not be a difficult task to accomplish.

When Infertility Meets Pregnancy

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It’s a strange reality when infertility meets pregnancy. When all the prayers accumulated over the last three years have a resounding “yes.” Your body changes, but your mind still struggles to grasp it, to accept it fully. There’s almost 20 weeks worth of growth proudly showing from my midsection, but the woman who carries it all – looks so strangely at herself in the mirror. Each day, there’s a shock in the reflection; sometimes, I just shake my head in disbelief. And other times, I cry at the goodness of the mystery.

Even at five months, sickness has continued to wage a war on me. Medicine has been a daily need, but I’m thankful for every episode of nausea. God knew that my little brain would worry and obsess, so He gave me enough sickness to know that things are progressing. All measurements indicate that nausea has been great for baby; the last scan revealed an extra five days of growth. That scan also revealed the gender.

My husband and I decided beforehand that we would find out the gender together, privately. In the waiting, you dream up exactly how everything will be one day – the bump pictures, the gender reveal, the names, the nursery, but when the moment finally arrived, I find myself changing those well-thought plans. I document things much differently than I imagined. We decided early on not to have a reveal party – simply for the reason that at no point could my face turn away from that screen. I wanted to consume every angle, every wiggle, of that 6-inch figure. Later, we surprised our families with the news that we are welcoming a daughter. That’s right, a little girl.

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We have chosen to name her Dawson Elizabeth. We have always favored boy names for girls and Elizabeth comes from my late grandmother. It’s a powerful thing to name someone you’ve never met. I have this sure feeling that everyday she starts to grow and look a little more like a Dawson everyday.

I am so appreciative of the prayers – both past and present. So many of you have wept with me and encouraged me to wake up and find a fresh tomorrow. You have grieved my months and reveled in my victories, as tiny as they were. Many of you have gone before me and found the kind of motherhood I want to have. And then there’s the bravest of you who still pray for it. You are the ones I admire the most – stay brave.

10 weeks

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It just doesn’t seem real. There are small waves of reality followed by oceans of shock. Even still.

I’m still battling horrible morning (noon and night) sickness. I’m currently on two medicines and still feeling the buzz of nausea. It’s not as easy as I wished it was. However, every ounce of “blah” reminds me of something so miraculous growing within. 

I haven’t shouted the news from the rooftops yet. We are trying our hardest to wait for the 12 week mark, but the inconvenience of nausea hasn’t made it easy to hide. 

When God Cancels Your Plans

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On March 10th, we had plans to attend an adoption match meeting.

On March 7th, I found out I am pregnant.

Three days before we packed up, took off work, and rode to the capital, we find out we are 6 weeks and 2 days pregnant. One at home test, two blood tests, and nothing but growing numbers. The past two weeks have brought on sickness, ultrasounds, and the best music my ears have ever heard: the heartbeat of our child.

I don’t know when it happened. I wasn’t charting or measuring. I wasn’t swallowing clomid or injecting rounds of Follistim. If anything, I was preparing myself for the road of adoption. I was pushing paperwork, making calls, and pinning gender-neutral bedroom ideas for a six year-old that I have never met. The mailbox was gushing with our information sheet- a cute postcard with a picture of us and what we were seeking. At the top, it reads, “we are looking to grow our family.” I didn’t know that at the very moment that I held our cards that I was also holding our baby. All 150 of the postcards are sitting on a shelf in the office.

My mind still cannot wrap around the goodness of God.

My pastor recently told a story about a missionary who was willing to travel and share the Word, but he didn’t care to go to Africa. He constantly prayed, “send me anywhere,” but he really meant, “send me anywhere, but Africa.” God continued to nudge and pull on him, but the missionary shrugged and reminded God that he wasn’t going to Africa. Finally, one day, he relented. He told the Lord, “I will go anywhere. I will even go to Africa if you want, God.” And in his spirit, he heard God reply, “Good, but I don’t want you in Africa anyways.”

Gosh. I want it to be said of me, from the beginning, that I prayed prayers that said, “even Africa, Lord.” Meaning, even my second choice, or maybe even my last resort, even those places I am still willing to go for the glory of God. I want it to said of us that we pursued God equally in the no and in the yes; that we worshiped Him and wore His name in both joy and in sorrow.

I want our story to be one where God cancels our plans for His plan.