When The Wilderness Finds Us

Since November, I’ve been dealing with debilitating pain in my feet. It started small and just grew and grew. For a couple weeks, I could barely stand up for more than a minute. Some days, it feels like it is spreading. My whole body just aches.

Chronic physical pain is like the ocean – waves are always rolling. Some days more aggressive than others. Some are much more calm.

But it’s incessant. And it is wearisome – physically, spiritually and emotionally.

I don’t want this to sound like a pity post. I just want those who know me to know what’s going on. So if and when you see me, you’ll understand if I need to sit down or can’t stop to stand to talk for a long time. Why my mind may seem a little absorbed lately. Why I may ask for your help doing something. But mostly, why I want to give thanks and share in gratitude with you. 

It’s been four months now that feels like a lifetime. And I have days where I wish I could stay in bed. But I am a wife, and a mother, and I have a full time job. And life keeps on moving whether I do or not.

At this point, we do not know the cause or the diagnosis of my pain. We are seeking answers. But even in the search, answers may not come easily, quickly or at all.

Those who know me best, know that I’ve been extremely active my entire life. I’ve spent most of it dancing and running. Now, I cannot walk around the block. If I did, I would pay for it later, for several days. I wake up in dread of putting my feet on the ground. Wondering, will it be worse today?

At first, every day was different. The pain moved around a lot. It was as if, overnight, some new inflammation would move in and cause more problems or new problems. Lately, the pain is pretty stagnant and pretty widespread, and lately, even in my sleep. The mornings are worse. Movement is sometimes better than none. But too much, and it feels like my feet are bruised all over.

I’ve started swimming, and some biking. If only I were a fish! I’d never have to withstand the pain again. I wish I could live in the water, only coming up for air.

I find victories in the smallest of things. Truly, standing is a victory. A good day is being home with my 4- and 2-year-old – all of us surviving and relatively cheerful and without any melodramatic breakdown – from me or them. Because the pain can just get up there when I am on my feet with them, and, if it does, my patience grows especially thin.

Please know, I serve an awesome God. That doesn’t mean I have weathered these months gracefully. I have had, and sometimes still have, moments where I’ve wanted to quit. I’ve wondered how I could possibly live like this another day.

But He has carried me through those moments, and in and out of days, to the next and the next and the next…

Even to your old age and gray hairs I am he, I am he who will sustain you. I have made you and I will carry you; I will sustain you and I will rescue you.       

                                                                                    Isaiah 46:4

I am learning to lean on Him wholeheartedly. Every day, I let go of a little more of myself, of how I wish things were, of mourning life before this all began, to fully live in Christ alone.  

My hope for you today is that you will give thanks – for every moment, but especially the dark and difficult wilderness moments. We all walk through them in different ways, for different things. But they serve a purpose much larger than us.

Give thanks for the moments you don’t want. Be glad to be in them so that God’s righteousness and power can be revealed.

Give thanks for the things you don’t have. That others who do may give of them freely to you in need.

Give thanks for the sickness or pain. That God’s goodness may be made known through healing in those trials, through those caring for you, even through some moment in eternity that you may never see.

Give thanks for the suffering and heartache. That you will be refined and made stronger and wiser and better able to comfort those in similar places from your experience.

Give thanks for your family and friends. That they will love you best through the times when life gets the hardest.

Nothing in life is guaranteed.

I don’t know what this is that has taken over my body. I don’t know how it will turn out. I do know that God is in the details and that the prayers lifted up on my behalf are only bringing more glory to Him with every word.

God knows my needs. He’s heard my prayers. He is in control, and His ways are always perfectly planned and well timed.

As for God, his way is perfect: The LORD's word is flawless; he shields all who take refuge in him.

                                                                                    Psalm 18:30

Free Time

Since having my two children, free time is one of life's niceties that completely evades me. As though it were stuffed in a time capsule and dropped in a hole deep down in the center of the earth with a retrieval date of 25-35 years.

With it went any shred of moxie I once had.

Full Definition of moxie

1. 1:  energy, pep
2. 2:  courage, determination
3. 3:  know-how

I'm pretty sure I've lost every which one of these things - energy, pep, courage, determination and know-how - to be good at anything other than mothering. And even then, good might be a stretch. 

Before my little darlings burst on the scene, I felt like I was pretty decent at a handful of things. I even had room to dream about a whole bunch of other things that I might be good at given enough free time and resources. 

It's amazing all the things I had time for, like styling my hair and putting clothes in the dryer less than 24 hours after the wash cycle.

But mothering doesn't leave room for extras. It hardly leaves room for all the things we're already good at and enjoy doing. I'm down to three: Running. Writing. Food.

I'm no gourmet chef. But come to my house and I'll whip you up something tasty and good for your body. And even if you don't think it's tasty, I'll go down trying. 

As my clan grows, my free time has been reduced to mere minutes. Lately, I have found myself sort of wading in the shallow end, wondering exactly what to do with myself. I haven't felt any shout from God to move, and it's left me grappling for a sense of purpose. 

Mothering can be like that. Caught up in the hum drum of diaper changes, meal time, play time, nap time, snack time, bath time, potty time, meltdowns over the color of the sky and boo boos that may or may not be there. 

There seems to be a time for everything but me and what I want to do. Like write that book and learn how to sew. Start a business and go on vacation. Spend uninterrupted time with friends I haven't seen in years. Learn French and Spanish. Travel. Read more.

Some days I get a little surge of moxie and decide I am going to be the next Martha Stewart. An hour later, I'm several episodes deep into anything on Netflix that allows me to sit and be entertained without having to think, or move, or do anything for any little bodies. 

And as I talked more and more to God about this, one thing became clear - I was already doing that thing that He wanted me to be awesome at. As Oswald Chambers put it:

Readiness for God means that we are prepared to do the smallest thing or the largest thing— it makes no difference.

Any which way you see it, mothering is a really big job that can make us feel really small at times. 

But mamas, he has appointed us - you and me - to take care of his children. To raise them to be honorable and kind, truthful and courageous, God-fearing and obedient. 

Of course there's no free time for anything else! He planned it that way. It's a big job. 

In my free time, I give kisses and hugs. I fill growing bellies and inquiring minds. I talk about Jesus and sing silly songs. I hold little hands and rock sleeping babies. I play, paint, color and draw. I take walks and rediscover nature. I clean dirty faces and teach life skills. I hide. I seek. I chase. I make animal sounds. I snuggle and tuck into bed.

Now that I think about it, if I had a time capsule, there wouldn't be much room for free time. I'd fill it to the brim with mothering.

When My Hands Were Full

I've got two pretty awesome little people that I've been blessed with raising. The arrival of each came with new challenges. Challenges everyone either forgot to mention, or felt it kinder to omit. Either way, I tend to err on the side of candidness. Tell me everything.

I had some trepidations over a second baby. Most of them revolved around a not-yet potty trained, unequivocally rambunctious toddler, mixed with a little bit of colic PTSD.

Unlike Sosie, however, it was not colic or postpartum gloom that bulldozed me. In relief, I watched that ship sail right on by, despite Sully's rocky start, and felt the fullness of God's purpose for my role as a mother.

But when Sully came home from the hospital for good, after battling RSV his first month, something felt off. It should have been expected. It was a natural familial progression. But the one thing I've learned since becoming a mother is that if you think you've got it all figured it, you're wrong.

God's got a keen way of pulling back the curtain to the untidy inner workings of our hearts.

I had the baby's room ready, the gear assembled and my shush-the-baby bounce perfected, but something in my heart still had to be addressed. My then 2-year-old Sosie stood before me pleading to be held, but for the first time in her life, my hands were full.

As a first-time mom of two, I wasn't equipped with the peace-about-it or the words to explain to her how badly our brand new baby needed me, when in fact, she too was my baby who needed me equally as much.

In the first month, I spent days in tearful fits as I watched my daughter play with my husband and my mother, who stayed after Sully's birth to help. Summer was approaching, and I envied their fun while the baby and I camped out on the couch for long naps and nursing sessions.

I longed to go outside for hours of building sandcastles, nature walks, running through sprinklers and sidewalk chalk masterpieces of toddler proportions. As her chubby little hands waved at me through the window, I fretted. Was she forgetting me? Does she think I stopped caring? Or, worse, could she stop needing me?

My mother reassured me of what God had already hardwired into me from the moment his son laid down his life for mine - that His purpose was much greater than my fear of failure and loss. I was to give of myself joyfully and without fear everyday to pray over them and grow them up in the clean air of the gospel.

For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind. 2 Timothy 1:7

But I was lost in the details of building my tiny kingdom of little people, forgetting they were and are and will always be His to begin with.

Still, my heart ached for my tiny companion with whom I'd weathered a lot of hard life. Who still loved me and offered me grace despite my many truthful moments of struggle to figure out what it meant to be her mom.

It is no small thing, when they, who are so fresh from God, love us.

And then somewhere between necessity and the terrible 2's, it felt as though she had stopped needing me. Multiple declarations of do it myself a day affirmed this, and I sort of accepted my new role as attendant to a very independent, sometimes demanding nearly threenager. Yes, threenager is a real thing.

My mothering became siloed, and maybe a little one sided because, well, the baby didn't talk back.

Then, one morning, my husband commented on my trend in attitude following several very difficult mornings, where I'd greeted our daughter with aggravation as she bounded into our room at the break of dawn with "Shhhh's!" and "Brother's sleeping!" or "Settle down!" and "Just lay still!"

Her loud and messy, energetic, upside-down, autonomous, disobedient and often downright quirky but typical toddler behavior was amplified next to the silent vulnerability of her brother.

My aggravation was evident, and in the next few days, it became a unsightly reflection of my innermost mama-heart at which I could not stop staring.

Where had it come from, other than 10 months of interrupted sleep? I clearly needed a time out.

I had slowly let my fear of rejection and of failure to adequately love and care for two little people get in the way of enjoying my daughter's budding personality and celebration of the joy of God's pursuit for her heart.

Sure, the season of babies and toddlers was physically and emotionally messy and wearisome and nonsensical. But, I'll be the first to admit that I had become complacent. I had lost my whimsy; my sense of adventure and discovery; my quest for the unknown, the not-even-there, and the ridiculously impractical. I had lost all humor in my quirky but typical toddler. 

This post got me thinking and remembering when I was in high school and my mom gave me a key chain inscribed with 1 Timothy 4:12:

Don't let anyone look down on you because you are young, but set an example for the believers in speech, in conduct, in love, in faith and in purity.

At the time, I was fast approaching adulthood. My actions and appearance and behavior were no longer cute and adoring like my daughter's, but scrutinized and judged.

I loved the key chain because the verse reminded me of God's all-consuming love for me despite my own loud and messy, energetic, upside-down, autonomous, disobedient and quirky behavior. It was God's pursuit of my heart and unconditional, sacrificial love for me that had saved my life - and now hers.

It's hard to take off pride, the fallacy that serves as the unsteady foundation for nearly all of our messy hearts. But in God's glorious plan, I am just the mom.

It took several thoughtful and prayerful weeks before I knew I had to stop worrying and lecturing and start laughing and loving every loud, uninhibited, mess-making, monster-fleeing, tantrum-throwing, nap-evading, coffee-spilling, "do-it-myself" moment before they became distant memories.

After all, God doesn't wash his hands and walk away after every one of my adult-sized tantrums and ridiculously impractical pity-parties. And there are a lot of those.

Raising my children up in the gospel brings with it hundreds of teachable moments for our whole family every day.

Surely not the only way, but the best and intended way for my daughter's understanding of God's love and grace is not through my ability to tell her, but my willingness to show her in every blinking, messy moment.

Sully's arrival brought me to my knees (again) and helped me stop putting my relationship with my daughter at the forefront of my life - and return to the foot of the cross. I love the way he always draws us back.

No one can come to me unless the Father who sent me draws them, and I will raise them up at the last day. John 6:44

Now that Sully is nearly 1, I still think about the days when it was just Sosie and me. I took a lot of our time together for granted. And it's hard to find one-on-one time with either of them. But there are moments, when one or the other is sleeping, that just the two of us snuggle up and sit in the quietude together. They are sweet, savory moments. 

They are still so little, but I hope that one day, in the midst of a loud and noisy world, it is God's loving, peaceful presence that they seek the way they do their mama's right now. 

This Prayer Is For You, Momma

When we first become mothers, it becomes hard to discern who we were before our babies entered our lives. At first, reflections of our former self are clouded by sleep deprivation, time deprivation, changing bodies and closeness to our spouse as the demands of a newborn take its place. Over time, it's the expansion of our hearts and reprioritizing of our needs and desires that erases nearly everything we knew to be true then. Something more beautiful emerges - a sort of surrender of self to love another more authentically.

After that, motherhood becomes a universal language that crosses even the most difficult barriers and disparate backgrounds. No matter who you are, where you live or what you do, we all carry the same calling card of loving a little.

It is in this time, more than ever, our senses become heightened to the joys as well as to the pain, the burdens and the sadness of other mothers.

One week after our second child was born, he was diagnosed with RSV (Respiratory Syncytial Virus). In many children, RSV manifests itself as no more than a common cold. In infants as young as Sully was, it can be life-threatening. We spend three weeks in the hospital waiting for the virus to run its course, caught up in the unknown of what was and what could be.

Those weeks felt like a lifetime.

Just as described in this book, I became distracted by my own exhaustion and resentment that I couldn't simply just love and hold and protect my new baby.

At times, I was ceaselessly praying in a way that clearly lacked trust in God. I was trying to rely on my own knowledge, my own strength, my own decisions, and using all the tools and people and research at my fingertips, only to then feel that, even with all of these things, I was not enough to help my child. Of course, I should have known better that that not enough came from a place of darkness.

So I became discouraged.

That's how the enemy works. Distraction, discouragement, doubt.

And right then, before my heart turned to doubt, filed in the prayers and words of encouragement and hope, and actions of love from other mothers that engrained my heart with compassion and prepared it for those whose similar experiences would follow. 

The outpouring of momma-love in that time was tremendous. Whether they'd walked in my shoes or fell within the group of couldn't imagines, what stood out was the solidarity in the moment and the truth that everything would be OK.

"Never doubt in the dark what God told you in the light."

 

The promise of his Kingdom is neverending. He sent his son to die in order to give life to mine.

The day our children are born a seed is planted that then roots and grows so large that it begins to whirl and twirl beyond our own hearts with love for, not just our own, but for all children.

I felt it in every baby's cry during our days in the hospital. I just wanted to run into the next room and pick that baby up and hug that momma's neck.

Regardless of where you are right now - whether you've lost a precious little, or you're watching them go through a sickness or a trauma or a simple boo-boo, or you're missing them from far away, or you're just tired and frustrated today and so are they...

This prayer is for you, momma. 

That you both will find comfort in Him. That he will bring the right people into your life when you need them most. That He will ease your exhaustion and give you strength for the moment, whether that moment is minutes, days, weeks or years. That you will forgive yourself for whatever it is that makes you feel that you are not enough. Because you don't have to be.

He already is.

To The Momma Of A Natural Birth/Sully's Story

Props to all the mommas who have given birth the natural way. Natural (i.e. unmedicated) was nowhere in my "plan." But if I had to do it all over again, I wouldn't have it any other way. After it all, I felt a rush of adrenaline. Like, I just did that. Go me! And physically, I felt amazing compared to my first.

I wrongly assumed that because my first child took 12 hours before any progression, the same would apply to my second. Dead wrong. While I labored for almost 10 hours, I was only in active labor for about an hour. That didn't make the earlier contractions any less painful, but it was manageable. Once they become 1-3 minutes apart, I consider that extremely difficult to manage. And mine went from 10 to 3 minutes apart within a matter of 10 minutes. There also was no consistency to my contractions until the last hour and a half.


There's no way to plan for that.

But if you are struggling with a decision of medicated versus unmedicated birth, I want you to know that God designed you for this. Sure, it's going to hurt like hell, and while you are in it, you will have a little - or a lot - of regret for turning down medication. But it will be amazing, and once that baby arrives, you will look and feel 1,001 times better than you would have with medicine. And momma, you will be proud.

Honestly, everyone around me, including myself, seemed terrified. My mom kept apologizing afterward for not getting us to the hospital sooner. We truly thought my son was going to be born in a truck. My husband and daughter missed the whole thing. And the nurses... I don't think that they see a lot of natural births in hospitals anymore because a lot of women do those at home with a midwife... in a big pool of water... Later, a nurse told me that my arrival was the most action anyone had seen in a while. Most mommas opt for medicine, or their deliveries are scheduled. The nurses were incredible and acted fast once they realized the gravity of the situation... but there was some fear in their eyes because they were out of their day-to-day element of medicated, pre-planned births.

Sully was born on March 28, 2015 at 12:26 p.m. And here is his story:

Rule #1: If it feels like labor, it's probably safe to assume that it is labor.

3:30 a.m. - The faintest waves of pressure wake me up. Having struggled with aches and pains of every sort this pregnancy, I am hoping that this is it, but I am not optimistic. After all, my due date is 10 days away. I wake Corey up to tell him anyway. Just. In. Case.

4:00 a.m. - The "waves" haven't stopped. Corey gets up to get some water. I start to get a little excited. Start timing contractions, but there is no rhyme or reason to them whatsoever.

4:30 a.m. - We decide that we might as well start getting stuff ready, including washing all my clothes since, at this point, I am only able to wear a handful of things. Corey begins packing the car. Still, contractions are anywhere between 15 and 25 minutes apart.

5:00 a.m. - We go downstairs to hang out on the couch and watch TV, eat breakfast. My contractions are chaotic, sometimes 10 minutes apart, sometimes 25, sometimes painful, sometimes quick and easy.

6:00 a.m. - Sosie's up. She seems totally unphased by my intermittent moaning while hunched over. After all, she's got more important things to worry about, like being the Flower Girl in her nanny and BFF Brittney's wedding today. We watch some Curious George.

Rule #2: Babies don't wait for weddings. 

7:00 a.m. - My mom is up, and we fill her in. At this point, no one seems at all convinced that I am in labor. I am Googling "false labor" like mad. Nothing seems to help us decide. I try to eat, but whenever I do, I just feel full and nauseous.

8:00 a.m. - Contractions still make no sense, but some begin to get very painful and last longer. Discussions ensue about whether or not I should go to the wedding. And if I don't go, who is going to go with Sosie, and who is going to stay with me? There seems to be markedly more interest in seeing Sosie be a flower girl than participating in my phantom labor.

8:30 a.m. - A few very painful contractions warrant some concern from my mom and husband. The wedding is an hour away. Corey wins the privilege of assisting the Flower Girl. While I should be sad that I will miss seeing said Flower Girl in the wedding, every contraction dissipates any urge to do, well, pretty much anything.

9:30 a.m. - Flower Girl and my husband leave. My mom and I settle in for what we think might be a very long day.

Rule #3: Mothers, husbands, Google AND nurses are not reliable sources when it comes to discerning between true and false labor.

10 a.m. - My contractions become can't-breathe painful. But they are still mostly 15-20 minutes apart. We call my sister and ask which essential oils might help with the pain. I am supposed to rub one on my wrists and just "breathe in" during a contraction. Right.

10:30 a.m. - Call a nurse at the hospital to ask whether or not mine sounds like true or false labor. She tells me that there is no way to know but to just keep timing. I am frustrated and confused. Later, I decide that nurses should be instructed to tell anyone experiencing labor signs to assume that it is REAL!

11:00 a.m. - I take a shower after some very painful contractions. Another one comes while in the shower, so I get out fast. There are no words for this pain. And as if in anticipation of my preparation, my contractions become 8 minutes apart. Just. Like. That.

Rule #4: Don't wait to shower.

11:15 a.m. - Out of shower. Yell for my mom to start throwing things in the car. I am struggling to get dressed, and my hair is soaking wet. My doctor said to wait until contractions are 5 minutes apart before even thinking about heading to the hospital. But this is ridiculous. So I manage downstairs to the living room, halfway dressed, where I've camped out for the morning

11:30 a.m. - Somehow, very carefully, I get clothes on, and after one contraction, I tell my mom to GET. IN. THE. CAR. This triggers panic, and mom now seems to be moving incredibly slow. I am trying to remain calm and not seem as if this is AN EMERGENCY and then there's some discussion about where the keys are, whether or not there are pillows in the car, or the exercise ball, where shoes are, etc.

11:35 a.m. - I reach the bottom of the stairs just near the front door when another contraction hits and they become about 3 minutes apart.

Rule #5: Over-prepare.  If not, there's always Siri.

11:45 a.m. - My mom helps me to my husband's 10-year-old, manual, two-door Tacoma that might as well be a donkey. Ya'll... I believe labor is why profanity was created. My mom hands me a pillow, and says, "Here, scream into this." I am on one butt cheek (somehow this helps?), hanging on to the handlebar above my window, pounding the other into the truck ceiling with every, now 2-minute apart, contraction. And We. Are. Off. The hospital is 15-20 minutes away, depending on traffic. This is when we are both thinking... we may be too late.

11:50 a.m. - I can't think about anything but getting through each contraction, which consists of a lot of screaming and pounding.

11:55 a.m. - I suddenly feel the urge to push, and I think, "No. No. No. No." I can't do this. This can't happen. But, there ain't no way off this train. And my mom is also a little scared at this point and suggests calling the hospital to tell them to get a team down at the front - pronto! Not a bad idea. I am trembling and trying to focus long enough to ask Siri (yay for Siri!) for the hospital's number when I feel a very strong urge and GUSH my water breaks. All over my husband's passenger seat. Heh.

11:57 a.m. - When the nurse answers, I try to explain the severity of the situation, but apparently nurses believe that mommas in labor overestimate their progression. Super calmly and sort of uninterested-like, she says, "Just come upstairs when you get here." ...................................................... WHAT?! There is not way on God's green earth I can even get out of the dang truck unless someone physically yanks me out.

Rule #6: It's perfectly fine to disregard the advice of men while in labor. 

12:00 p.m. - Pull up to the front of the hospital. My mom jumps out of the car and goes inside looking for someone - anyone - to help. The front desk is abandoned. ....... She comes back out and a staff member on break and a paramedic both see her in distress ... and probably hear my screaming. Sheer shrieks. The (male) paramedic comes over to the truck and advises me to "stop screaming because it's not helping" .......  I mean.

12:01 p.m. Screaming continues.

12:05 p.m. - Woman on break has alerted the L&D staff upstairs, and mom locates a wheelchair and both she and the paramedic and the lady on break are trying to coax me into the wheelchair. But I ain't moving..... Until a gang of nurses descends upon the truck and one very seriously looks me straight in the eyes and says," Get out, now." So glad they now understand what's happening. =)

Rule #7: Don't get too attached to your "birth plan." 
12:07 p.m. - I am carefully hoisted in the wheelchair and as we enter the hospital, I ask, "Is it too late for an epidural?" Cue laughter.

12:10 p.m. -  Wheeled into a delivery room, onto a table. There are probably 10 nurses in the room scurrying around like little ants. About four of them are trying to show me how to breathe through the contraction instead of screaming. I finally give in to their request when the doctor arrives.

12:15 p.m. - Doctor is gloved and ready and says to push. I honestly have no idea what I am doing. A natural birth is so different from a medicated one. She says there is going to be a lot of burning.... In addition to the existing pain and immense pressure?!?!? Yes. I can't even cry at this point. I am in shock.

12:17 p.m. - The God-given momma strength takes over and I focus all my energy on pushing and all I can think is push pain push pain push pain push pain. I forget to breathe. But he is coming, I can feel that he is coming and after about 10 minutes of this chin to chest push pain push pain push pain...

12:26 p.m. - This little body just sort of plops out. And immediate relief...

With this, there is still some discomfort to be had. Another urge to push, almost like a contraction, will deliver the placenta. Then, within minutes your body begins coming down off of all the pregnancy hormones, and I couldn't stop shaking. And I was freezing cold. But the doctor still had to stitch me up, for which I needed a local anesthetic delivered by a very big, very long needle. This all took another 10 minutes. But after that, I felt so alive. So proud and happy and energized. So full.

This is what God intended.

Dear Baby Boy,

Any day now we will meet face to face. Oh I know, we've been intimately meshed with each other for nine months. Still, I know very little about you other than your tendency to get rather rowdy, that you will probably be petite like your big sister, and, oh, you are mine and I am your mama. 

It's going to be frightening at first. For both of us. It's going to be cold and loud and bright and busy out here. Even I get overwhelmed sometimes. But don't worry. You're in good hands. 

You see, you were created in the image of a God so strong, so mighty and so full of love that nothing can overshadow it. Your likeness in Him is the path to your greatest fulfillment. You will find joy, peace and wholeness in the development, expression and acceptance of that existence. As for the bright and busy world, I'd like you to know that He has already overcome it. So we're covered there.

But first thing's first: Just get here, safe and healthy and strong. We can't wait to meet you. To love and nurture you. To help you grow and learn. And one day, to set you off into the world to discover what's in store. 

Your daddy and I have a big job ahead. Sometimes it may feel like we are against you. Just ask your sister. But our every effort is for the very best of you - and her. It's OK if you cry and scream and sulk and get mad. One day, you will understand. Either way, we promise to give you space, but always to protect you. 

So here we are, all waiting. With highly charged anticipation. Nothing will ever be the same soon. But all along, my hopes and dreams and prayers for you remain constant -- 

I hope that you have your daddy's patience, kindness, quick wit, optimism, adventurous spirit, honesty and fidelity. I hope you get your sister's empathy, sensitivity, playfulness, imagination and tenacity. 

I hope you inherit your aunts' sociability and carefree spirits, your Abby's generosity, your grandmother's affectionate heart, your papa's drive and your grandpa's conscientiousness. 

I dream you will find someone to love, to share your life with, to build dreams with and start a family of your own with. I dream that you will treat her like a queen, the way your daddy does me. Your daddy and I aren't perfect, but we've got it pretty darn good. I found my soulmate. I dream you'll find yours. 

I dream you will find something you love to do each day, something that fulfills you and gives you purpose. Something you are excited to get up each day and do. Whatever it is, find a way to serve others through it. Put others first. Treat them fairly. Encourage them. Love them.

I pray for a never-ending joy of spirit. When times get tough, we will be there. But a conviction of self is essential to weathering the wilderness. I pray that you will accept Jesus into your heart. That He will grant you courage and wisdom and, most of all, a heart for loving and serving those who are vulnerable, who can't speak for themselves, who feel unwanted and unloved. That you will stand up for them and say to them: You are loved. You are wanted. You matter. And that you will show them the way.

I know this is a lot to take in. You've got a lot of growing to do first. We are so ready. It's gonna be good. No, great. I can't wait to meet you.

P.S. Your sister is pretty tough. But she's got a tender heart. Look out for her. 

"For this reason I kneel before the Father, from whom every family in heaven and on earth derives its name. I pray that out of his glorious riches he may strengthen you with power through his Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith. And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the Lord's holy people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know that this love surpasses knowledge -- that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God."

In My Bag: The Third Trimester and L&D

Sweet little babes! What in the world would we do without them?

Actually, I can think of more than a handful of things. Like spending all Saturday morning sipping coffee at Starbucks, reading the newspaper and chatting with my husband, to be followed by a no-rush two-hour workout at the gym, where I can catch up on all the gossip magazines and Bravo shows, then spend as long as I want in a hot shower and get gussied up in my pre-baby skinny jeans, curl my hair, and head out for a yummy dinner with an ice cold adult beverage. Come home and fall into bed without any notion of what time I might wake up the next day.

And I only have one child. I've pretty much carved out the next 5-7 years of life for babyhood and toddler land.

I don't lament life. My worries are small. Either way, I will admit that the reward is worth the effort. But the effort can take its toll on even the most resilient.

I have gladly hit the third trimester of my second pregnancy. I'll admit this one's been tough. They say every pregnancy is different, but somehow I didn't expect it from my body. Serves me right.

Being pregnant with my daughter was a breeze. This time I've had pain. Lots of pain and discomfort. You name a body part, I've probably had it there. More weight gain, less sleep, and I will spend the remainder of my pregnancy in winter. The darkness and cold has really put a damper on my pregnancy "glow."

I'm trying to take it one day at a time. I was sad to see pregnancy go last time. This time, I'm not holding my breath.

And yet, one of my favorite things about planning for a baby is, indeed, planning! For type-A organization freaks like myself, nesting is so fulfilling. I can find a reason to plan for anything. Honoring that intrinsic need to nest, I have been making lists for the third trimester and for my L&D. Here are the things in my "bag" in the last trimester and at the hospital:

8 Third Trimester Essentials

1. Whole Foods 365 Electrolyte Enhanced Water. I have terrible taste and smell sensitivity during pregnancy, so much so that even water turned me off. And what does a pregnant woman need more than water? So when my husband brought several huge bottles of this home for me one day, I was hooked. It had zero taste and electrolytes, which most pregnant women need a bit more of anyway.
2. Heating Pad. Like this one from Sunbeam is what I look forward to cozying up with in my bed each night. With the back pain I've had, this is perfect for taking the edge off and putting me right to Zzzzz.
3. Tongue Scraper/Cleaner. Like this Orabrush one I picked up at Target. My taste aversion was at its height in my first and second trimesters. This helps rid of bad tastes in your mouth from bacteria and food remnants after eating and drinking.
4. A Pea in the Pod Maternity Leggings. These have been my favorite leggings so far. With my first, I had this pair from Pea in the Pod and this BeMaternity pair from Target. They worked because it was summer by the time I needed maternity clothes, so I barely wore them. The pair in the first link are thicker, stay in place better and still come at a decent price.
5. Panty Liners. I honestly have not used these, mostly for comfort reasons. And really, this is TMI, but in your third trimester, and especially on your second or third child, leaks happen. It's so embarrassing. I honestly didn't realize how bad it was going to be until the first time it happened to me. Either way, it's your call, but if you know you might be laughing a lot...
6. Basics Women's Felicity Slimming Nursing Cami from Target. I have this in black and white. I wore it during my first pregnancy, throughout 15 months of nursing, and now I am in them again. They are super comfortable, easy to use, slimming and have a reliable shelf bra for those who need a little support when not wearing a bra. 
7. Pillows. I've never used a maternity body pillow. Although they look nice, multiple pillows have worked for me. I typically use four, and my poor husband has slowly lost his. I think he's down to one now. I put two at my head, one at my back and one between my legs. I like plain 'ol pillows because they are more pliable and mobile than one giant pillow.
8. Garden of Life Oceans Mom DHA Soft Gels. Brain development is ramping up in the third trimester, and whether or not studies prove the use of DHA makes a difference, why not? Also, I don't like fish all that much right now. I also liked these from the Honest Company. They are more expensive, but I think better purity-wise.

10 Labor & Delivery Essentials

1. Slippers. I don't think I wore anything else on my feet in my first few months home with my daughter but a pair of slippers like these from DSW. This Christmas, my husband gave me a pair of Sonoma Sherpa slippers from Kohls, since my others have gotten worn and icky. As soon as I enter my house, they go on my feet. But, hospitals are cold and drafty, and I had to walk back and forth between the NICU and my room for three days. Either way, you will thank me for reminding you to pack some in your bag!
2. A knee-length, lightweight robe. SOMA makes the best lounge wear, hands down. Just pop in and fill a bag because it's likely what you'll want to wear only that for the next few months. The only downside is how pricey they are. This one is similar to what I have. You don't want something dragging on the hospital floor, or getting twisted up in your bed. And if you are breastfeeding, you'll want something light and easy to navigate. SOMA has a nursing line, but even their non-maternity, non-nursing stuff works for before and after birth because it is buttery soft, stretchy, nice-looking and loose.
3. Overnight bag. No doubt you already knew this. I love looking at all the fun, pretty bags that people take to the hospital, and I will take any reason to buy a new bag. But it's  hard to beat Vera Bradley. I have the Vera Bradley Weekender in Owl, which is a retired print but still available on Overstock. The new version of the weekender has some nice features too. 
4. Motherlove Nipple Cream. This is honestly an all-purpose goop. I found it to have the best consistency, smell and healing effects than any other lanolin I tried. The ingredients are 100% all natural and organic. It's safe for ingestion. Who wants to wipe off cream every time you nurse? The only drawback I found was that, because its first ingredient is EVOO, it will stain  clothing. I just don't wear my nursing camis without a top/coverup in public. Also try their More Milk Plus/Special Blend capsules for boosting milk supply.
5. Water Jug With Straw. This water jug was seriously one of my favorite things from the hospital. It was like a ray of light descended upon my room when the nurse brought it to me filled with water and pellet ice. My husband makes fun of me for how much I love it and how gaudy it is. I used it throughout nursing as well. It's 32 oz., and the straw was absolutely necessary. After L&D, you feel like moving as little as possible, and during nursing sessions you do NOT want to spill cold water on a newborn. 
6. Hanes Women's Boyfriend Hipster Panties. I picked mine up at Target, and I wore them through the end of my first pregnancy and through the first 6 months of my daughters life. The only con was that the elastic around the legs began to wear sooner than I expected. I've found that larger, cotton panties are best post-L&D because you will be wearing heavy pads for bleeding, and you need something that is comfy, breathable and can handle the load. 
7. Basics Women's Felicity Slimming Nursing Cami from Target. Again, they are super comfy, easy to use, slimming and have a reliable shelf bra for support. 
8. Breast Pump. I invested in the Medela Pump in Style Advanced with my first because it was highly regarded and I knew I wanted to breastfeed. Either way, I had to use mine at the hospital because my daughter was in the NICU, and I couldn't immediately feed her. Either way, you will have the opportunity to meet with a lactation consultant who will show you how to use your pump, make sure you have all the right pieces in the right sizes, and ensure that your pump is working.
9. Always Overnight Maxi Pads. Trust me. 
10. Essential Oils Diffuser. I got mine from Young Living after purchasing an oils kit. But really, most are pretty decent. With my first, I'd made a music playlist and was prepared to sway on exercise balls, etc. All I ended up doing was sleeping, waiting and trying to breath and relax. We diffuse these oils nearly every night before bed: Lavender, Stress Away.