37 weeks, 3 days

I joined a birth board on the internet. It's been rather interesting, going through this whole pregnancy with other June mommies. Sometimes the questions are silly, sometimes they're serious concerns:

Will life ever get back to normal? Will I ever sleep again? Will my time ever be my own? Will I always feel this uncertain? I'm scared of the stretch marks, will they go away? Will I ever have my pre-pregnancy body back? What, exactly, is too much or too little when it comes to weight gain? 

The focus on body image, especially, strikes me at the heart. 

Isn't that exactly like our world? From an early age, we, as females, work toward an "ideal" body image. This image may come from magazines, Hollywood stars, music, or the other women in our lives. And, more likely than not, we never quite measure up. Our chests are too small, our hips are too wide. Our hair, the wrong color. And the list of imperfections goes on.

Even growing up in a loving, Christian household, body image issues still reached me. Elementary, Middle, High School found me self-conscious and focused on my imperfections. I knew God's word. I knew that it said I was fearfully and wonderfully made. But I'm not sure I always believed that. My loved ones told me I was beautiful, but the rest of society didn't back these words up. I always felt "less-than perfect." 

And then, my heart began to change. There were questions, deep inside, that needed answers. 

Do you believe me, God whispered?

Do you belive my word?

What is your heart focused on?

My Savior spoke to my soul, asking me if I was ready to change my perspective. It had to be my choice alone. And it wasn't an overnight revolution. It was slow. It meant burrowing myself in truth. It was an ongoing battle, one that I honestly still face. But one I slowly feel like I'm overcoming. 

I honestly think that most women are unhappy with themselves, in one way or another. We all have our insecurities. It's amazing to me that these reach even into pregnancy. It seems like pregnancy would be a release, a few months when we really don't have to necessarily worry about what we're eating or how much weight we're gaining. But image insecurities reach even to there. 

I went through most of my first pregnancy without stretch marks. And then suddenly, right toward the end, bright red marks appeared, five on both sides of my belly. After my daughter was born the marks faded, but now that my skin is stretched out, they once again appear fierce and red. The first time, they bothered me. This time, well, this time they're just a part of the story. The story of my daughter and son. 

My daughter was looking at my belly the other day and she asked if I needed band-aids for my "owies." I tried to explain to her two-year-old mind that these marks didn't really hurt me. They just marked where babies had grown. Just as she was once held close to my heart, now her brother was there as well, stretching, kicking and growing. It's a story I'll continue to tell both of them as they get older. These stretch marks, they're only the beginning of a story. Many would call them an imperfection. I call them beautiful. I'm sure the marks will fade, after this little guy is born. They'll, once again, become paler, closer to skin color. But the reminder will always be there. 

And it's beautiful.  

On mothering

Have you seen this blog post yet? An Open Letter to Pastors (A Non-Mom Speaks About Mothers Day. A friend of mine posted a link to it on Monday, and I have to admit that it really struck me. This Mothers Day will only be my third one as a mommy. I'm definitely looking forward to it as a day to relax and enjoy those I love the most. But I would hate to think that other women will be at church on Sunday in silent pain. That on a day where I feel celebrated, they feel less than complete. Because that's anything but true. The military life has sent me many places. In each home, women have welcomed me in, prayed for me, made tea for me, encouraged me. Far from my biological family, these women mothered me in ways great and small. There didn't even have to be much of an age gap between us. There was no criteria. Being a mother is just something women do. They welcome, they love, they encourage. They probably don't even realize that they're being a mother. But their care is beautiful. Their love is godly. They are the reason we celebrate Mothers Day. 

I'm so thankful for the women who have and continue to watch over me. I pray that, down the road, God gives me others to love as well. Because being a mother has little to do with biology (Although my own mother is also an amazing one, by the way). Being a mother is just using the gifts God has given all of us as women. 

And so, this Sunday, I pray that you feel blessed and celebrated, just as a woman of God. 

Our High Priest

^"For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but One who has been tested in every way as we are, yet without sin. Therefore let us approach the throne of grace with boldness, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us at the proper time" (Hebrews 4:15-16, HCSB).

In my dreams last night I was reliving the past. Mistakes I've made. Relationships I didn't handle well. Attitudes I wish I could change. Times I wish I could repeat. My heart hurts for that girl I once was. For those times that can't be undone. Life can be so messy, can't it? There are times, seasons of my life that I truly don't want to go back to. That I truly wouldn't want to repeat. Those pre-teen and teen years were especially messy. Especially rough. I wonder about my daughter as she gets to those years. I pray she has a better experience than me.

The dreams last night were rough ones. But this morning, I woke up to a new day. It's wonderful when morning comes, isn't it?

In the night, our dreams and reality often mix. But in morning, we're reminded that the price has already been paid. Our High Priest has already been there, He's covered it all. I don't have to worry about going back to the past and fixing things. There are memories that I just have to give over to Him and let Him wash clean. Just as He has with my heart. 

His grace and mercy upon my life are incredible. indescribable. uncontainable. 

Oh how thankful I am for it each an everyday. 

Because even back then, the church raised girl needed some help. The girl back then didn't have all the pieces put together yet (she doesn't now either). But I can see where she's come from. I can see how far she's come in trusting Jesus with each part of her life. 

And she's so, so blessed. Blessed by a High Priest who covers her sins. Blessed by each new morning. Blessed by the people in her life that have stuck around to watch her change and grow. Unconditional love is a glorious thing.

And so, to the dreams, I say, goodbye. You're only dreams after all. You have no control over me. Instead, I chose to live in today, where my cup is overflowing and my High Priest is King of All. 

One month to go

I've tried to sit in front of the computer a time or two this week. Everytime, my daughter has immediately climbed up into my lap, toys in hand, filling what little space is left between the computer chair and the desk. I find it amazing that she can balance on my legs at all at this point! At times, her intrusion annoys me. I just want a few minutes to myself. Minutes to surf the web, read up on blogs, and to work on my own blog. It doesn't help that she's been refusing naps this week. Naps that she (and I) so desperately need. This lack of napping leaves both of us irratable by the evening. There have definitely been some low moments this week. But there have been some precious times as well. 

Cuddling with my girl and reading story after story (I love that she's already a bookworm!). 

Wearing dresses and twirling to the music (because dancing just wouldn't be the same without a pretty skirt). 

Making apple oat muffins together (she was covered with half of the flour by the end!). 

Meeting up with new friends for a playdate, complete with chocolate chip cookies.

And exploring the Children's museum together on an overcast, windy day.

These are the moments that I love being a mommy. The moments when I'm reminded of how blessed this life is that I live. 

I'm often told by random passerbys that I'll have my hands full with two kiddos, or that I look like I'm going to pop any day now. I honestly take the comments with good grace. They really don't bother me much. Yes, my world will change in the coming month (one month, can you believe that's all we have left?). Yes, life with a newborn and toddler will be hectic for awhile. 

But oh am I blessed. I am truly trying my best to enjoy each and every stage of this journey.

The time will come when I have more time to write.

When I can finish those sewing and scrapbook projects on the backburner. 

 When I have time for that nap I so desperately want to take. 

But then my babies will no longer be babies. Already my daughter is correcting words she used to so cutely mispronounce. She's dressing herself, brushing her own teeth, and cleaning up her own toys. She's learning how to count and can tell you quite a few colors and letters. She's expressing herself, talking a mile a minute, and showing her frustrations about life in new, colorful, ways. 

This children's book by Karen Kingsbury came to mind as I was writing this today. In it, she celebrates not the firsts, but the lasts. My daughter's scrapbook is filled with memories of her first, but how many lasts have already passed us by? How many things have already changed? Was I present, or distrated, at those lasts?

When I am afraid

 “When I am afraid, I will trust in You. In God, whose word I praise, in God I trust; I will not fear. What can man do to me?” (Psalm 56:3-4, HCSB). 

I sat down on Thursday evening, realizing I hadn’t really felt the baby move much that day. I’d had a crazy day, busier than normal.  By the end of the day I was exhausted, unsure of myself, and fearful that I’d missed something. Was our little guy ok? Was he just tired like his mama was? How do I determine if this fear is justified, or if doubts are just invading my brain? That evening was unsettling. I finally felt a few kicks from my little guy, but nothing like the usual gymnastics routine that he usually gives me in the evenings. My mind when to all the books I read, all the horror stories I’d read online. What we read definitely affects our thoughts, doesn't it?  I was truly filled with unsettling worry and doubt. My husband and I prayed for discernment and peace, and then finally, late in the night, I fell asleep. In the morning I was still a bit unsure of myself. Life doesn’t always have easy answers. I prayed that I was doing the right thing in giving little guy a little time to wake up and start his day. After my morning coffee, I was greeted with a gymnastics routine that continued on and off throughout the day. I took that as a cue that my life had been a little to busy. With only 5 weeks to go til this little one arrives, I needed to slow down a bit, listen to my body, and make sure I was in tune with it. Hopefully, next time fear invades, I’ll have a better idea on whether or not to be worried. 

Fear can be God-given. It can tell us when something is wrong. But it's not supposed to stop us from living.  It’s not meant to keep us awake at night, shaking in our boots. Thursday night truly shook me (and my husband) up. Did we do the right thing in not acting, not rushing off the emergency room? I think so. I hope so. We gave the whole situation to God, and felt that we should just wait. Just watch. Just give things a little bit of time.

Oh, the worries of a parent. They start when the child is in the womb and never really let up after that. Isn't it so? The worries and fears just change. Just evolve. What was once a worry about fetal kick counts turns into worries about sickness, separation, how they’ll be treated by others, safety driving, if they’ll find a good job, a good mate, be able to make it on their own. 

I had never thought much about fear being a good thing. Cathy Dickinson pointed it out in our Bible Study on Wednesday (See Taming the Giants, Fight Your Fear). She said that God uses fear to tune us into things, to keep us from doing dangerous this (like walking in front of a moving car during rush hour). It’s what we do with that fear that makes the difference. This, I can definitely relate to. 

When I was fearful on Thursday night, my husband and I took those fears before Jesus. We prayed again first thing in the morning for continued guidance (and some reassuring kicks from our little one!). Sometimes relief from fear is immediate, other times, it takes time for God to answer. I felt extra blessed on Friday when my little guy was sooo active. I truly believe it was God settling my heart. Why wouldn’t He? He knows me, how I tick, and knows how to best comfort my fearful heart.

The safety of loved ones seems to be a big issue for me. While my husband was deployed, I was often concerned for his safety. It was hard knowing he was so far away, in a foreign land, and I could do little to protect him. He was truly in the hands of God. Sometimes I would catch a news story, once again, I was letting my brain and heart be filled with lies and doubts instead of truths, and my heart would clench up in fear. I would wonder if he was ok. Spotty communication didn’t help with these fears much. I truly had to trust that God, the author and creator of life, had my husband’s life in his hands. Those fears were especially real in the evening, after our little girl was tucked in bed, fast asleep. It was in those quiet, dark hours of the evening, before I fell asleep, that the worries would start. I honestly believe that Satan knows when we’re at our most vulnerable. Interesting, in light of my fear story this week, which also took place in the evening! Evening was that time, for me. It was during that time in my life that my dear husband emailed a Bible verse, a portion of scripture that had been on his heart. If you’ve been reading this blog for any length of time, you know how dear these words have become to me: 

"Finally brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable—if there is any moral excellence and if there is any praise—dwell on these things. Do what you have learned and received and heard and seen in me, and the God of peace will be with you" (Philippians 4:8-9, HCSB).

It’s all about what we let in. What we dwell on. What we chose to think about. The brain can be such a tricky place, and such a tool of the devil. While my husband was deployed, I had to consciously think about everything good, true and right in our lives. All the ways God had provided in the past, and would continue to provide. I had to consciously replace the fears with God’s truths. For example: Our all powerful God truly knows the numbers of our days (Psalm 139:16). He is our refuge and strength (Psalm 46:1-3). He could handle my worries and fears then, just as He can now (1 Peter 5:7). He can handle my fears about my loved ones and give me the comfort and wisdom I need to make the the proper decisions. His Spirit can tell me when to act, and when to wait on Him for guidance.

My goal is to always live less in worry and more in His strength. What about you? What do you fear? What happens when you give those worries and fears over to Jesus? Are the answers always immediate? 

“Your eyes saw me when I was formless; all my days were written in Your book and planned before a single one of them began” (Psalm 139:16, HCSB).

“God is our refuge and strength, a helper who is always found in times of trouble. Therefore we will not be afraid, though the earth trembles and the mountains topple into the depths of the seas, though its waters roar and foam and the mountains quake with its turmoil” (Psalm 46:1-3, HCSB).

“Humble yourselves, therefore, under the mighty hand of God, so that He may exalt you at the proper time, casting all your care on Him, because He cares about you” (1 Peter 5:6-7, HCSB).