We're Going to Get Married.

On Sunday during Life Group, we talked about how we met our spouses and the early days or our relationships. Matt and I told the story of how, after only 2 weeks of dating, I told him we were going to get married. If you’re reading this and you knew me back then (and have somehow never heard this story), I’ll wait a minute for you to pick yourself up off the floor before I go on.

Ready?

Yeah, I was not one to readily and easily express my feelings for other people, especially the guys I dated. As is the case for most young people, I had been hurt plenty of times prior to meeting Matt, and in previous relationships was of the opinion that I would not, under any circumstances, share my feelings about the other person unless they made a major expression of love and undying commitment to me. Looking back, I realize how unlikely that would be given how guarded I was in those relationships. Of course, it was also a good thing that I was that guarded in those prior relationships because I was not meant to be with those people, but I digress.

I still remember looking at Matt in the car parked at the Pequea boat launch on the Susquehanna river (we had gone for a drive and were discussing our relationship) and telling him that we were going to get married. I only vaguely remember his reaction because my brain was fighting with itself:

“What in the world just came out of your mouth? Are you insane”.

“Eh, whatever. When you know, you know, right?”.

I don’t actually remember what Matt said in response to this declaration, but we’ve been married for 7 and a half years now, so I’d say it worked out alright.

Whenever we tell this story I’m reminded of the way I felt in that moment, telling him that we would get married. I was completely at peace. I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that I was right. We were going to get married. At the time I didn’t really think much about this phenomenon, but in the years since I’ve realized just how completely in control of my actions I was not. As I said before, this is NOT something that I would normally do. I can’t even tell you how earth-shatteringly uncharacteristic this was for me. What I’ve concluded is that God took over my heart and my mouth that night so that I would say exactly what Matt (who didn’t know it at the time, but has since realized it to be true) needed to hear to begin to overcome his fear of commitment (that’s his story to tell, so I won’t explain the reasons behind that here).

Now, please don’t think that I’m taking any credit for allowing God to have control in that area. I was not there yet, so I give all credit for this situation turning out this way to the people who were praying for my future marriage for many years (my parents actually started praying for me and my future spouse while my mom was still pregnant with me).

What telling this story also reminded me of is how all these years later, I would do it all over again without question. In fact, I might not even wait 2 weeks. Marrying this man was the single best decision I’ve ever made in my life. I had no idea at the time how much more I would love him almost 8 years later, or how much more I would be proud of him for who he is, how he loves me and our kids, how he parents our children, how he leads in his job, & how much passion he puts into all of this work.  Because he chooses to put Jesus first in his life, the people he interacts with are better off, especially me and our children.

I’m so thankful for the prayers of the faithful people in my life and Matt’s, and that God has blessed us with each other (I’m pretty sure Matt would agree that I’m a blessing in his life… most days. 😉).



Here we are about a month into our relationship... 2 weeks after I told him we were going to get married. 😂

I Will Be With You

Working outside the home sometimes makes me feel like a part-time mom, wife, & School Counselor-- like I'm not able to give 100% to any of my roles.  Intellectually, I understand that it would impossible to do so, but that doesn't deter the guilt from sneaking in.  It's times like these that I feel inadequate at everything I do, and that often makes me feel like giving up on something.  That something is always my career.  Sure, I have moments where I want a short break from mom and wife duty, but I never want to walk out on those roles (thanks mostly to my husband-- and even sometimes my little guys-- for making me feel appreciated!).

Working Mom is another story.  I wrestle with feelings of wanting to focus solely on my family, but also kick ass in my career.  My daydreams fluctuate between resigning because Matt got a promotion & I can stay home & write; or I've been offered a Super Amazing Position that screams to my current employer, "Suck it! You didn't appreciate me & now I'm taking all of my awesomeness somewhere else to do amazing things.  No, no, please don't beg.  I've made up my mind-- I'm too good for this place".  (Totally obnoxious, I know, but I'm pretty sure you've thought the same thing at one point in time.  Admit it-- it's freeing.)

So, where do these feelings come from?  Sure, a major part of it is obvious-- I don't feel appreciated at work, but what else is behind these feelings?

Insecurity.  

The feeling that I'm not all that talented at anything I do is really the crux of the matter.  I've always thought of myself as a fairly confident person, so when I examined my feelings and discovered their source, I was shocked! Ok, that might be a little dramatic, but I really was somewhat surprised.  How could I let this happen to me?  How could I let people that really aren't important figures in my life make me feel so inadequate?  (I don't actually think this was their goal, for the record.  This is all on me.) I realized this is because I was giving them, my job, and my desire to have an "important" role too much power in my life.  I had stopped gleaning my security from who I am in Jesus.  I stopped asking what He thought about my work & my abilities, and focused on what other people thought (or appeared to think).  If you've ever been in this place, you know how painful it is.  You know the hole that you feel and the way you feel lost & without a direction. (Side note: I'm a total planner, so not having a direction is excruciating for me.  I see you, Sister, with your color-coded calendar and matching pen!)

So how do I get out of this state?  I certainly don't have the full answer to that question yet, but what I do know is that it starts with a step.  Just asking these hard questions and not running away from answering them is step one.  My natural step two was buying a book-- it's what I do.  

One day, I came across a book entitled, 5 Habits of a Woman Who Doesn't Quit  (by Nicki Koziarz & knew I needed to read it.  I was at a place where I really wanted to quit, and I was tired of doing that, so this book really spoke to me.  Nicki talked about having dreams & wanting to do something with my life that has an impact on the world.  Yes! I'm so with ya, Sister! But what happens when adversity strikes?  "I give up!",  "I'm not good enough at this!",  "There are so many other people who could do this better".  Yes, yes, & Yes! Then at church that Sunday, I read this description of the morning's message: 

"When it comes to doubting ourselves, we can come up with a list of excuses as to why we aren't good enough to do what God wants us to do.  But God has given us the power to take any situation He presents to us-- if we are willing to look past the unknown and see that His will is greater than our fear".  (Click here to see the full message)

Ok, God.  I get it.  You have my attention.  

Our pastor talked about the story of Gideon & the Midianites, which essentially goes like this: 

God: Gideon, I want you to destroy these people. 

Gideon: Got it.  I need more soldiers. 

God: Nope.  You have too many.  I need you to get rid of some.  

Gideon: Uh... what?!?

Yeah, I'm with Gideon.  

BUT

"The Lord said to him, 'I will be with you.  And you will destroy the Midianites as if you were fighting against one man'".  Judges 6:16.

Gideon didn't need a powerful army.  He had the most powerful thing in the universe: the Presence of Almighty God.

And so do you.  

Mickey Mouse Saves the Day!

Today I sat on the floor in the playroom and colored a gigantic picture of Mickey Mouse while my children played nearby; because some days parenting well means taking care of myself first.  To some that might sound selfish, but I challenge you to think through this with me.  Can we be the best moms, wives, daughters, and friends we can be if we are running ragged and pouring ourselves out without ever filling ourselves back up?  Can a carpet cleaner keep a carpet clean if we keep using the same dirty water? (This example should inform you that I live with 3 boys and a dog.) No, it can't and we can't.  

Being a good mom doen't mean giving EVERYTHING you have and not doing anything for yourself.  Quite the contrary.  In the world of Social Work and Psychology, we have a term for this called "self care" (no, we didn't make this up, I'm sure).  In graduate school and in our workplaces, we spend a lot of time talking about this concept and instilling in ourselves the idea that this is an absolutely essential part of being a good Helper.  This is not only true for Helping professions.  It's true everywhere.  We must take care of ourselves before we can take care of others.  

Heck, even flight attendants teach us this-- 

"In case of emergency, secure your own breathing mask before assisting small children with theirs."

Jesus teaches us this as well.  In Matthew 11:28 He says, "Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest".  Today, Jesus gave me rest in the form of my favorite childhood pasttime.  He met me exactly where I was, because that's where I needed Him to be-- in the scent of colored wax and giant paper.  

Putting myself first is so hard sometimes-- not because I'm so incredibly selfless, but because I like to think that I'm Superwoman and I can "do it all" (I have an issue with dependence.  I may have written about that in a previous post), but I'm learning that it is essential in the world of motherhood.  

So thanks, Mickey, for being my air mask today, and thank you, Jesus for telling me that it's ok. (Oh, and thank you for friends who are understanding and supportive when I send them text messages saying that my children have been possessed and to be on standby if I need backup.  These women are my heroes. Couldn't do this thing without them.)

The Day the AC died

Apparently, it's supposed to get up to 90 degrees here in Lancaster County today. So naturally, today would be the day that our 30 year old air conditioner would die (the good news is, we were planning to replace it anyway, & we know a guy). 

All the heat has caused this party of 3 to be quite still today, which is hard, but so necessary. 

This stillness has allowed me to be more mindful of my surroundings for the moment.  As I stood at my kitchen window earlier, I witnessed one neighbor mowing his grass with a riding mower & another mowing his with a mule--very different methods, but both effective. Neither is better than the other, just different. 

This reminded me of motherhood: many different methods & opinions. None better than the others, just different (with the exception of "methods" that are abusive-- that's a whole other topic), and yet, we women sometimes attack each other over these differences of opinion. So it made me think: when did motherhood become a competitive sport? Did our mothers and theirs before them experience the same thing as young mothers? Was there ever a time that moms, on the whole, didn't berate each other over choices like breastfeeding vs. bottle feeding & disposable vs. cloth? What do we gain from this? Nothing. In fact, not only do we damage others, we damage ourselves by missing out on opportunities to learn & grow. 

The mom that had a c-section is just as much of a mom as the one that didn't. The mom that mothers babies that others have physically given birth to is just as much a mom as any other mom out there (and often has a tougher job). Sometimes our plans for motherhood go awry. I know mine did. I was positive that I would have a natural birth & breastfeed for an entire year. That didn't happen. With Davyd, I had to have a c-section because, during labor, his heart rate dropped & didn't come back up. Between the time that Dr. Eichenlaub said "We're doing a c-section. Now." to the time that Davyd was out was less than 10 minutes-- it was that emergent. In the end, I'm just thankful that he & I were both ok. Then came breastfeeding. We tried. It didn't work. And yes, that's possible. I just didn't produce enough to meet his caloric needs. I tried my hardest, spending many nights sobbing as I tried to nurse him, until I finally allowed myself to "give up" & do what was best for him, which was bottle feeding. I spent way too much time feeling guilty about his birth & eating. This guilt came from many sources, including myself, the media, & other moms. I still feel guiltily sometimes, which is ridiculous, because the choices were simple: have a c-section & we'd both be ok, or try a natural birth & lose him; and keep breastfeeding & let him lose weight, or bottle feed him & provide the nourishment he needed. Still, I felt like I was broken, and some other moms out there in the world tried to keep me feeling that way. Thankfully the ones that matter to me provided the support I needed.

The point is, there's no need for all this judgment-- of ourselves, or other moms. Parenting is THE HARDEST job in the world, & we should all give ourselves & other parents a break. 

I say this knowing that I often fight the urge to judge another mom when I'm in the grocery store & the mom gives in to her child's incessant pleading for the snack he wants. But how do I know what that mom has endured today? Maybe she has reached the last millimeter of sanity & has decided that giving in to the whining will save her from having her own meltdown in the middle of the cereal aisle. If I think about it that way, I can't blame her. If I'm honest, I've done the same thing. There comes a point in every mom's day that she JUST. CAN'T. anymore. And that's ok. In those times, we should be reaching out to each other with a glass of wine. I mean support. No really, a glass of wine. Let's just be honest. 

Today, I read the story of Mary (Jesus' mom) going to stay with her cousin, Elizabeth, who was also pregnant, when Mary found out that she was going to have Jesus. I have to think that they both felt overwhelmed & incompetent. I mean, one was "way too old" to have a baby, & the other one was practically a child herself. But instead of judging each other for their differences, they clung to each other for dear life (this is my guess, based on my own feelings about motherhood). These women were brilliant. Let's all be Marys & Elizabeths, shall we? 

💜 

A letter to my teenaged self

Recently I've asked the faculty at Linden Hall to write letters to themselves as teenagers as a way to give advice to our girls.  Reliving adolescence is not something I enjoy, but writing this letter turned out to be very therapeutic.  Here's the result: 

Jess,

                Your parents do know what they’re talking about.  Listen to them.

                Don’t worry about what “those girls” have to say.  They’re not friends.  Their opinion of you doesn’t matter, because they don’t know you or care about you.  They make those comments because they’re insecure about themselves.  Really, you should feel sorry for them (someday you will). 

                That guy… he’s not worth it either.  You may think there couldn’t be anyone better for you.  There is, and he is so much better for you than you can imagine right now.  He’ll complement you in all the best ways.  Before you meet him, though, you have to get comfortable with yourself.

                In the next few years a lot will happen.  You’ll lose some people who are very important to you.  It will hurt.  A lot.  In the end, you won’t regret getting close to them.  Some of these people were good for you; some weren’t, but you learned from each relationship and it made you a better person.  There will be a time that you won’t want to let people get close to you because you don’t want to get hurt.  Fight this feeling.  There are people you should stay away from, but there are more that will become like family if you take a risk and open yourself up to them. 

                Seek advice from people who have gone through this part of life already (Yes, your parents.  They do know some stuff). 

                Don’t be afraid to cry.  It’s always best to acknowledge your feelings.  Sometimes these feelings are ridiculous, so learn to decipher the truth from the lies your insecurities tell you.  (Not being great at that one thing doesn’t negate all the skills you do have.  Embrace who you are and hone the natural ability you have in other areas.  You’ll feel so much better about yourself and you’ll contribute something great to the world that no one else can.)

                Don’t make any important decisions after 10pm.  Things always look worse at night.  Go to bed.  It will be better in the morning.  There are few things that sleep, coffee, and chocolate can’t cure.  If it’s still bad in the morning, call your mom.  She may not always have the answer, but she will make you feel better.  So will your dog (always have a dog).

                Finally, live boldly and love unswervingly.  You won’t regret it. 

Hot flashes & head-bobs

On Friday, we welcomed our new little man, Theodore Edward into our family. It has been a whirlwind of activity as we assist Davyd in adjusting to being a big brother, and Theo in adjusting to life outside the womb. 

Meanwhile, I have been readjusting to the life of a nursing mom. It has not been long since the last time I did this, but I seem to have forgotten all the different elements of the process. Like the fact that I often have hot flashes & nearly fall asleep every time I nurse. The other part of that is that I often drop whatever is in my hand, which is usually my phone. This creates an obvious hazard for my dear little babies. I remember dropping the phone on Davyd when he was pretty young. I felt like the worst mom ever. I probably even cried. Poor Theo didn't even make it through his first night home without me dropping my phone on him. My response this time was quite different. I believe what I said to him was, "I'm sorry, buddy, but let's be honest, this won't be the last time". He seemed to be understanding. It's true what they say, the second baby is totally different...

The Art of Breathing

Sometimes waiting for answers makes be feel like I can't breathe.

This week I've had difficulty breathing, both literally & figuratively. Davyd caught a cold somehow (what is the deal with summer colds?!?!), and of course, then Matt & I caught it as well. Let's face it, neither of us has much of an immune system at the moment. We are a pregnant woman & a man with an auto-immune disease. We are sitting ducks. 

I, obviously hate being sick, but I'm even more cranky about it when I'm also pregnant. I mean really, as if growing a human inside my body isn't difficult enough-- we have to add a cold to the mix? What makes me even more cranky is not being home when I'm sick. We are in Ohio this week, partially on business for Matt & partially to visit some family (it has been quite a whirlwind of a week. My husband often resembles a tornado to me, but it's especially twirly when he's working so hard). So we've been staying in a hotel, which does not have my comforts that I count on when I'm sick, and this has made me grouchy. However, one thing that has been enjoyable is the fact that I don't have have any laundry to do or anything to clean or straighten. This has given me the opportunity to read while my son sleeps. On Wednesday, I read 3 different works on worry. I know this is not a coincidence, because I was having an exceptionally hard time breathing on Wednesday (again, literally & figuratively). I was so focused on not having the answer that I've been craving, I was finding it nearly impossible to breathe. 

I've been waiting for an answer about a potentially exciting change, but as I've been waiting, I've allowed myself to worry so much that the excitement has worn off. 

So on Wednesday, I decided to exhale. I was challenged to stop worrying & talk to God about it instead (a novel idea, I know). Doing this has always proven helpful in the past, but for some reason, I'm constantly re-learning this lesson: I can do nothing about it, so talking to myself (worrying) about it is useless. God can (and will) do something about it, so He is the one I should talk to. 

Breathing has become easier since Wednesday, as long as I remember to exhale. 

"He's not going to sleep in our bed" & Other Words I've Eaten Since Becoming a Mom

I wrote the following draft of a post this past winter.  I'm not sure why I never got around to finishing or posting it before, but I figured I might as well share it now, even in it's unfinished state.  Enjoy! ;)

I'm certainly not an expert on this parenting thing, but one thing I can tell you with certainty is that things will usually not go as you expected. 

Davyd has been sick this week, & in an effort to get some sleep (and maintain the shreds of sanity we have left at this point) we've been letting him sleep with us. If you would have told me a year ago that I'd be letting my baby boy sleep in bed with us, I'd have told you you were crazy. I likely would have said something to the effect of, "My dear husband has no sense of what he's doing in his sleep", & then I'd recount the story of how he once attempted to squeeze our dog's stomach in an effort to get her to... well... relieve herself (this is a wonderful story... I'm happy to share it if anyone is interested). I would then reiterate that it wouldn't be safe for our tiny baby to be in bed with us, & I really would believe it. 

Fast forward to last Thurdsday night when the boy was only staying asleep in his crib for 15 minute increments. At that point I was willing to sleep anywhere (couch, floor, bathtub, whatever) if it meant we would all get some sleep. 

I will add that I still haven't totally regretted this decision. Although, I imagine I will at some point-- when my son is 5 and still wants to sleep in our bed.  For now, I'm enjoying getting whatever bits of sleep I can get when Davyd is sick.  It's not ideal by any means, but at least I'm not spending most of the night bent over his crib trying to get him to sleep, which has become increasingly difficult as my pregnant belly continues to grow.  (Sixteen months apart.  These boys are going to be sixteen months apart.  As I've said before, prayers and wine are always appreciated.)

The moral of this post is this: parenting is something no one is ever fully prepared for.  By nature, it's something that you must learn as you go.  One thing I've learned in the past year is the importance of giving myself grace as I navigate the best ways to care for my son.  This is something every mom needs  from herself and from those around her.  I'm thankful that I have so many mom-friends who are willing to pour out grace and share stories of their own triumphs and failures.  I wish more moms would be like them. 

Summa' Time (and God's grace)!

The time that I've been counting down to has finally arrived-- in a whirlwind, I might add.  School was out on the 10th, Davyd's first birthday party was on the 13th, the Bellis-Hughes-White-Prekop family day was on the 14th, and we left for the beach on the 15th.  So much fun, so little sleep! But summer has finally arrived, and with it, the opportunity to begin writing again.  

I've been inspired by some mom-authors that I've been introduced to lately.  I read the majority of Lisa-Jo Baker's book, Surprised by Motherhood on the beach last week.  I don't know how else to describe this book other than "a warm hug".  It was so encouraging to read about another mom who has insecurities and doubts about her ability to be a mom.  I've never considered myself to be very maternal, but after reading this book, and others like it, I'm reminded that being a mom doesn't have to mean having the cleanest, most organized house, or the perfect dinners on the table precisely when my husband walks through the door (let's face it, my husband is the cook.  He merely tolerates what I make because he's desperate and let's not forget the fact that I never had any desire to do these things).  Being a mom is about so much more than outward appearances.  I'm learning this more and more as I parent a wild little man, who is always dirty, hates being cleaned up, and LOVES to throw anything and everything he can get his hands on.  I'm also beginning to wrap my brain around the fact that I'm going to have ANOTHER one of them in October, and my life is going to be filled with dirt, bugs, and naked butts all over the house (Davyd loves to be naked… it really must be innate in boys.  We've already had the "keep it in your pants" conversation-- the one appropriate for 1 year olds.  The other one will come later.  We're already practicing it).  My son has stretched me in many ways since he came into existence.  I've been given the ability to do things I never would have dreamed I'd be able to do in the past. I always knew I wanted to be a mom, I just didn't know that I'd be able to handle it.  

That's the beauty of God's grace.  Tonight, I read the story of Jesus feeding the 5,000 (does it bother anyone else out there that women and children weren't counted?) to Davyd, and I was reminded of the ways that God works in and through us.  The little boy with the five loaves of bread and two fish might have realized that there was no way that could have fed all of those people, but he offered it anyway.  And Jesus took what little he offered and multiplied it to feed all of the people there, and still have leftovers.  I like to think that's what God is doing with my parenting skills.  I don't know how to raise boys.  I'm an only child, and a girl.  I don't understand the desire to eat gross things, tear bugs apart, or wrestle at every opportunity.  I like my personal space, and I like my sleep.  I've lost both of these things in the past year (and nine months… let's be honest, growing a person inside of you is the ultimate loss of personal space), but I have gained so much.  I have been given the chance to get a glimpse of the way that God loves me.  Having the experience of loving Davyd despite his tempter tantrums and waking up way too many times during the night has made God's love for me more real.  To think that God loves me, even more than I love my son, despite my disobedience and lack of faith is truly humbling and awe-inspiring.  Knowing this is the way God loves me makes it that much easier to give Him what little I have in the way of my ability to be a good mom and trust that He will continue to turn that little into much, and even leave some leftovers.  I'm thankful I don't have to do this on my own.  

Bathroom Napping, or How I Maintained My Sanity Today

For one reason or another, Davyd was particularly fussy today. Normally the child loves to sleep, & falls asleep quickly & easily at naptime & bedtime, but today naps have not come easily. I held him for the duration of his morning nap. After several failed attempts to lull him to sleep & then gently place him in his swing, which ended in screaming, I finally gave up & held him for 2 hours. Don't get me wrong, I love snuggling with this little guy, but I had things to do this morning (that still aren't done)! After his early afternoon meal, I decided it was about time I took a shower. Davyd appeared to be in good spirits, so I tucked him into his car seat & high-tailed it to the shower. He laid there contentedly playing with his hands and looking at his car seat toy for several minutes. This pleasant interlude ended at the exact moment that I began lathering the shampoo into my frizzled, overly hair-sprayed hair (hair spray is a life-saver when frequent shampoos are simply not an option). I quickly rinsed my hands, hopped out of the shower, and attempted to return Davyd's pacifier to his mouth without getting water all over him. I failed. The only option at that point was to endure the crying while rapidly rinsing the shampoo from my hair and drying off. I was then able to calm the very unhappy little man, and coax him to sleep between applications of various hair products. After completing my grooming routine, I looked at the beautiful, sleeping child & realized that the last thing I wanted to do on this earth was wake him up. I had a choice: move him & risk a repeat of the morning or leave him in the bathroom for the rest of his nap. The latter option won, so there he stayed for the remainder of his nap. For a moment, I felt slightly guilty for leaving my baby boy in the bathroom to sleep, but then I listened to the luxurious sound of silence throughout the house, and decided that my decision to leave him there was really the best thing for all of us. Motherhood requires a kind of creativity that I had not expected. Live and learn, & then leave your child wherever he will sleep (as long as he's safe). 

Lessons in Mommyhood: Two Outings is Too Many

Today I finally got to church for the first time since Davyd was born.  Our morning went very smoothly.  We even got out of the house with time to spare.  We arrived at church and were greeted by many friends who ogled over our little man. Davyd was wonderful at church.  He slept most of the time, got up once to eat, and then promptly fell asleep again. On the way home from church, Matt and I engaged in the typical "What on earth are we going to eat today?" conversation.  We finally decided to use one of the gift cards that we got when Davyd was born to go out for dinner.

This is the decision that caused the evening to spiral into a whirlwind of crying, eating, fighting sleep, more crying, and more eating.  It was very clear to us that Davyd was overly tired (Yes, my mother warned me to be careful not to let him get overly tired.  "It'll make for an unpleasant day", she said. Well Ma, you are right as usual). Finally after several conversations in which Matt and I attempted to figure out what to do (which sometimes consisted simply of confused, frustrated stares), our dear little screaming child fell asleep on his father's chest on his own.

*Cue Hallelujah Chorus*

Minutes later, Matt and I had this conversation:

Matt: (whispering) I think I'm going to put him in his swing.

Me: (also whispering) If you do, and he wakes up and starts crying, I'm going to go outside, get into the car, and drive.  I'm not sure when I'll stop.  I imagine that I will, but I don't know when.

Matt: I'll keep holding him.

He's still sleeping on Matt's chest.  Davyd has a wonderful father. I have a wonderful husband.

<3>

Eating and sleeping, sleeping and eating.

It appears as though our dear little boy is going through a growth spurt.  Over the past two days he has wanted to do nothing other than eat and cuddle, and while I thoroughly enjoy cuddling with my precious boy, I've had little opportunity to do anything else, including taking a shower (Too much information?  Forgive me.  This, I have learned, is the life of a mother).  It is, however, very reassuring to know that my boy is growing.  I have a feeling that in a short amount of time, I will no longer be concerned about his growth.  He is, after all, a Bellis.  (For those who don't know, my husband is 6'4" and broad.  Yes, broad.).  Davyd is now beginning to fit into his 0-3 months clothing, which is so much fun, because he has received many adorable outfits from friends and family.  It seems finding outfits to fit him is going to be a challenge.  He is currently wearing 0-3 month onesies and shirts, newborn pants, and 6-9 month socks.  (The boy has enormous feet.  Perhaps he will be a swimmer.)  The challenge with this is that most baby clothes are sold as a group, which means I may be found in the corner of the baby clothing store, "mixing and matching" sizes. ;) To all the moms out there, where are the best places to mix and match without angering store staff? Are there many places that sell separates?  Most of the clothing we have has been purchased by friends and family, so I'm still a little clueless about shopping for this little guy.
At the moment, Davyd is sleeping peacefully.  So I suppose I really should be doing something other than blogging.  Something like brushing my teeth or changing out of my pajamas for once.  Here's hoping he sleeps for a few more minutes!

Welcome to the world, Davyd Atticus

I've recently been reading blogs written by other moms & it has inspired me to start writing again. We shall see how long this lasts.

Six weeks ago today, we welcomed our dear little boy, Davyd Atticus into the world. We had invisioned the type of birthing experience seen on TV & movies to some extent- complete with screaming obscenities & other nonsense. Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on one's perspective), that didn't happen. I spent a good part of 6 months contemplating the natural child birth aids I would utilize as I attempted to move this child from one environment to the other. However, all of the reading & worrying I did was useless. (The worrying always is. Maybe I'll learn someday). Labor started in the wee hours of Thursday morning and then progressed & regressed throughout the day. 

 Finally, after many hours of sitting on my (slightly deflated) exercise ball, we decided to head to the hospital. One thing I did not anticipate was the discomfort of a car ride while in labor. Not fun. Of course, the worst was yet to come. We got settled into triage, & after about an hour, my midwife came in to check on us & mentioned a slight concern she had about Davyd's heart rate during contractions. Naturally, we were somewhat concerned, but since Cheri (our midwife) didn't seem too concerned, we didn't worry too much. 

Eventually we were moved to a labor & delivery room, & shortly thereafter, were introduced to Dr. Eichenlaub, who voiced more concerns about Davyd's heart rate. He explained that we may have to do a c-section, but he didn't want to "jump the gun", so he would be monitoring us closely. In the event that a c-section was necessary, he wanted to make the call soon enough so that it didn't become an emergency & Matt could have time to "scrub in" to be in the operating room. After that conversation I had several contractions in which Davyd's heart rate remained high, so our nurse left the room for a moment. As she did, I began having another contraction. The next thing I knew, Matt was frantically pushing the call button & running out of the room to get the nurse. Within seconds, which seemed like an eternity, Matt, our nurse, Dr. Eichenlaub, & several other people entered the room. Davyd's heart rate wasn't coming back up despite changing positions, so Dr. Eichenlaub decided we needed to do an emergency c-section. This is where things get even more blurry. The vision I have of this memory includes bright lights, a stark white ceiling, & an emergency code (which I knew was for me) being played overhead. Within seconds I was in the operating room, unaware of where my husband was (or how he was), & climbing onto the operating table (apparently when the nurse says, "We'll need you to move to the operating table" she doesn't necessarily mean for you to move yourself, but it saves time). 

 People have asked me how I was feeling during all of this, but it's hard to say. Things were moving so quickly, I didn't have time to think about how I was feeling. I just knew they needed to get my son out, so I was doing everything I thought I should to make that happen more quickly. 

Not long after getting onto the table, I was being put under. The anesthesiologist explained that I'd feel a lot of pressure on my throat. It was more than I felt was normal, so to convey my concern I said, "Oh boy" & with that was blissfully unconscious. The next memory I have is the image of a nurse, lights & my husband staring at me & saying things I couldn't comprehend. (Yes, the lights were talking too). Apparently I had come out of the anesthesia much earlier, but I have no recollection of that whatsoever. 

Finally, they moved me to the "couplet care" room where I saw my parents (whom, I'm sure were out of their minds with worry), and waited while Matt went to get Davyd from the nursery. 

I will never forget the sight of him wheeling that weird crib thing into the room with this tiny little baby that was all ours. I was still a little fuzzy as Matt handed him to me, & I was somewhat concerned that I wasn't quite yet fit to be holding him. It was a great feeling to have my son in my arms, but due to the drugs I was on, was less emotional than I had anticipated. Maybe I shouldn't say less emotional, but emotional in a different way than I had expected. I felt so relieved that I had my little boy & he was healthy & unscathed from his traumatic entrance into this world. I was also still so foggy from anesthesia, I don't think I fully realized that this child in my arms was mine. I mean, I knew he was mine, but the weight of that fact didn't hit until the anesthesia wore off completely.

Our lives have been completely altered by this little one's existence. I am now able to function on less than 4 hours of sleep, which is something I have never been able to do. Motherhood has stretched me in ways I never realized it would (despite being warned by friends... it's something each woman has to experience on her own). It has been a beautiful, exhausting, invigorating, frustrating, and exciting experience- one for which I could not be more grateful.

<3

As usual, I've been struggling to trust that God is in control of our circumstances. The past few months have delivered challenge after challenge... opportunity to trust after opportunity to trust...

This week, Matt's car died, and at the present time, we don't have the money to fix it. So I've found myself in the position to trust that God has an answer to our needs. And I've failed miserably. Instead of believing that God knows the bigger picture, that He knows our needs even more than we do, and He knows what is ultimately most important, I quickly work to identify how I can fix it. Thankfully, God has seen to it to bless me with wise parents who are able to take what they've learned in their lives to encourage me. (Realizing God's sovereignty in giving me the parents that He did brings me to tears. I am so blessed.) While they were visiting this weekend, they gently reminded me of the fact that God promises that he will never leave me or forsake me... He will never leave us or forsake us. This promise is from Hebrews 13:5... which actually says, "Keep your lives free from the love of money and be content with what you have, because God has said,

'Never will I leave you;
never will I forsake you.' '

What a relief it is to know that God knows our struggles, He knows our needs, and He knows the solution. He is the solution. Today i picked up a book by Max Lucado called, He Chose the Nails. In a chapter entitled "I Understand Your Pain", Max recounts Christ's death on the cross and provides insight into why He chose to do what he did. I love this part:

"Explore this thought with me for just a moment. Why did Jesus live on the earth as long as he did? Couldn't his life have been much shorter? Why not step into our world just long enough to die for our sins and then leave? Why not a sinless year or week? Why did he have to live a life? To take on our sins is one thing, but to take on our sunburns, our sore throats? To experience death, yes-- but to put up with life? To put up with long roads, long days, and short tempers? Why did he do it?
Because he wants you to trust him.
Even his final act on earth was intended to win your trust."

Max talks about Jesus' thirst, and his initial refusal to drink wine with myrrh. The thing is, myrrh contains a sedative that numbs the senses. So Jesus chose to feel the full force of his suffering instead of taking the wine that would lessen his pain. Why on earth would he do this? Because He knew we would feel pain too. Here's more from the chapter:

"He knew you would be weary, disturbed, and angry. He knew you'd be sleepy, grief-stricken, and hungry. He knew you'd face pain. If not the pain of the body, the pain of the soul... pain too sharp for any drug. He knew you'd face thirst. If not a thirst for water, at least a thirst for truth, and the truth we glean from the image of a thirsty Christ is-- he understands."

He understands, and that's enough. I can't get the words to "Everything" by Lifehouse out of my head...


Find Me Here
Speak To Me
I want to feel you
I need to hear you
You are the light
That's leading me
To the place where I find peace again.

You are the strength, that keeps me walking.
You are the hope, that keeps me trusting.
You are the light to my soul.
You are my purpose...you're everything.

How can I stand here with you and not be moved by you?
Would you tell me how could it be any better than this?

You calm the storms, and you give me rest.
You hold me in your hands, you won't let me fall.
You steal my heart, and you take my breath away.
Would you take me in? Take me deeper now?

How can I stand here with you and not be moved by you?
Would you tell me how could it be any better than this?
And how can I stand here with you and not be moved by you?
Would you tell me how could it be any better than this?

Cause you're all I want, You're all I need
You're everything,everything
You're all I want your all I need
You're everything, everything.
You're all I want you're all I need.
You're everything, everything
You're all I want you're all I need, you're everything, everything.

And How can I stand here with you and not be moved by you?
Would you tell me how could it be any better than this?

♥

i've been finding myself longing for new things lately, namely a new home. sometimes i even begin to feel sorry for myself that money is tight and we haven't been able to buy a house yet, but today i talked to a 14 year old girl who doesn't eat breakfast in the morning because there simply isn't enough food at her house. from outward appearances, one would never guess that she and her younger sister sometimes go hungry. she looks like a typical 14 year old. the difference with her and others is that her father is disabled, and the food stamps that the family receives every month because of his disability simply don't provide enough food for the family.

as she told her story, i began to feel incredibly embarrassed. i've always had a kitchen full of food (even though i sometimes open the pantry and and report to matt that "there's no food in this house"), a warm place to live, and more importantly, wonderful people to share these blessings with, but i often take these blessings for granted. i should spend my time being overwhelmingly thankful for what i have, and not even give thought to what i don't have.

on that note, i couldn't be more thankful for God's patience with me...

just found this post i wrote a couple years ago... thought it was fitting for how i'm feeling tonight.

T-R-U-S-T

this word has come up a lot lately. actually, it has come up a lot throughout my life, and yet i am no closer to mastering the concept now than i was years ago.

trust has never come naturally to me, as i'm sure it probably doesn't to many people, but in looking back on my life i can see that my ability to trust has diminished as time has passed. at first glance, this might seem like a natural chain of events... the more a person is disappointed by others, the less able he or she will be to trust. it is true that i've been disappointed and hurt by some people in my life, so perhaps it's logical for me to not trust those individuals anymore. however, it isn't logical for me to mistrust other people who have never given me a reason to believe that they're not trustworthy. what's even more illogical is for me to mistrust God. he has never given me a reason not to trust him, but has given me every reason to trust him. not only did he die on a cross so that i could spend eternity with him (pretty sure if someone does that, he's trustworthy), but he's protected me from a great deal of pain... even though i chose to get myself into painful situations. the thing is, no matter how stupid i am, no matter how incredibly poor the choices i make are, God wants to give me good things. this is a concept that i can't seem to grasp, probably because it seems totally illogical. why would God want to give someone like me--someone who is selfish, impatient, untrusting (etc, etc)-- good things?!? in wordly terms that doesn't make sense. but that's the beauty of who God is. he's not of this world, and therefore does things differently. in this world, we get rewarded when we perform well. but God desires to bless us even though we continually screw up. yes, you read that correctly... he desires to bless us. he wants us to experience all that he has for us (ie., what's best for us). so why is it so difficult to trust him? probably because sometimes what's best for us happens in a painful manner. sometimes in order to learn, God allows us to be hurt, and sometimes we get hurt just because this world isn't perfect. there's risk involved with trust. but another beautiful thing about God is that he knows what that risk is like. when Jesus was on this earth, he experienced that risk. he knows exactly how it feels.

the creator of the universe knows exactly how i feel at this very moment...


what an incredible thought.

so apparently i meet a guy, and quit writing. on that note, i'm getting married in about four weeks, and that has me thinking about many things... mostly how immensely blessed i am. matt is more than i've ever dreamed of in a husband. he is kind, funny, compassionate, loyal, generous... the list could go on and on, but i think you get the idea. i've also been blessed with some amazing friends who have become, or are becoming like family to matt and i. some of these friends are part of our life group at LCBC, which is another blessing (if you live in lancaster county, and haven't found a church, be sure to check it out). being part of LCBC, and especially part of a life group, has really gotten me thinking about what it means to live in community. i've realized that i have this desire deep within to be part of something bigger, to live life in connection with the people God has placed in my life. i've realized that i've been neglecting this desire for a while because i've been busy with work or some other thing that comes up, but i'm determined to make this a priority in my life once again. God created us to live in community, and i intend to do so. this shouldn't be too hard... i have some great people to do life with... <3

thank you, Lord...

for all my beautiful friends...

for laughter...

for sunshine...

for answers...

and questions...

for new...

and for old...

for what has been...

and what is yet to come...





love to all...

i have no words tonight, but this song adequately mirrors my thoughts for the moment...

I've been putting on and putting off too many people
And I'm getting old to live
like an injured man, ailments and unfilled prescriptions,
like the nose on my face
Like a broken boat, a safety raft, and a love for the water
Well I just can't decide
To sink or swim, it's me or them,
Should I save myself
or go back for the others

Because maybe there's no gray and I was wrong to tell 'em so
And then maybe all that I've to do was done a long time ago

Because there was life before my life
There was provision before my need
There was redemption before my sin
For the sake of the world I thank the Lord
That the truth's not contingent on me

Because I've been dressing up and dressing down for too many people
And I'm a little young to live
Like a troubled boy, a troubled soul, a fish out of water
Because we're all just the same
We're all just as good, and just as bad, and just as distracted
By the corners of our eyes
As our fathers were, and theirs before and all those before them,
And still I glance around

And with the way I stare you'd think I'd seen through a two-by-four
And with the way I walk you'd think I'd never seen grace before

Because there was life before my life
There was provision before my need
There was redemption before my sin
For the sake of the world I thank the Lord
That the truth's not contingent on me

But I've been putting up, putting down too many things
That I know nothing about,
but I'm jealous of, holding pride as tight as I can
like she was my only daughter

Because there was life before my life
There was provision before my need
There was redemption before my sin
For the sake of the world I thank the Lord
That the truth's not contingent on me

'Cause the truth's not contingent on me.

-Caedmon's Call "The Truth"

the past few weeks have been trying, for many reasons... of which i won't bore you now. but today i've begun to feel hopeful. it was a day of pleasant surprises... a smile at church... the laughter of friendship... the quiet that only snow brings. i have very many reasons to be thankful, and just as many reasons to be hopeful. life is uncertain, and that's what makes it beautiful.



love to all...