When the Paradox Prepares You

Rolled over in the bed at four o'clock a few nights ago. And as I settled in to get back to sleep, I thought, "It seems just a bit cold in here. What's the deal?" I trudged to the thermostat and blinked awake enough to read it. "45".

Forty-five degrees! Inside our house! And to be honest, after adding a couple more layers of clothing, it wasn't that big of a deal. What with my raging pregnancy hormones and Webb's longterm, honorary induction to the polar bear family, it was pretty much my perfect version of camping:  comfy bed, indoor plumbing, night light, but with cool night air.

However, we figured we should probably look into remedying the heater situation since our baby's been a toasty ninety-eight degrees for nine months and probably wouldn't acclimate to forty-five real well. Yeah, we may be first-time parents, but we do know a few things. And, thank the Lord, it was a simple fix, just a breaker. 

Webb has been the best husband to a pregnant wife that has ever walked our earth. Have I mentioned that? Especially these last few weeks. I've had a slightly inconvenient onset of pregnancy carpel tunnel which makes doing almost anything more difficult than it should be. Especially anything requiring fine motor skills. Like snaps or buttons. Or writing. And he's been there to help with every task. Patient when he sees me trying to open something (anything!) and that look of total exasperation crosses my face. He just smiles and takes care of it. 

In all this weakness, I've been wondering:  why is it that the Lord saw fit to make me as dependent and needy as I've ever been right before the moment I'm sure I'll need to be stronger and more capable than I ever have? I have never felt so helpless as I have through pregnancy. Can't lift this, or reach that. My body won't cooperate. I'm exceedingly clumsy (as if I wasn't before). And yet in the coming days, I feel that the only version of myself I should be is the best, strongest, most capable one.

I feel Jesus using all my current handicaps to remind me that the most daunting things in life don't require any of our strength; They require His. I need the strength of the Lord in order to pass on strength to my child. I need the covering of my husband to serve as a conveyor belt of power. There's a pipeline, a channel, which must be intact for God's provision to flow in the best possible way. And I'm so thankful Webb honors the Lord and leans on Him for everything he needs to pass on to our family.

We have spent many days since the news of our little one praying that the Lord will help us keep the structure of our family intact. Asking Him to remind us to set our minds on things above, to then love and serve each other as spouses, and then to bless and nurture our children. Health begets health. And where we lack, God's grace builds a bridge. And what we cannot help or fix, God mends together.

None of us is strong alone. Interdependence, all leaning together, collapsing on the One who is all strength, is our only course of action. Our only path for wholeness and health.  

So, in all of my neediness, I suppose I can empathize greatly with this little boy who will grace our home soon and rely upon us for everything. Empathy is a gift. Compassion is a privilege. Strength is a shared commodity, distributed among us, flowing from the strongest to the weakest - making all sturdy. And I can't wait to snuggle our boy close and show him how able Jesus has made all of us.

Ready or Not!

Almost to the finish line. The one that marks the beginning. And when I think I'm ready to feel normal again, free of all the weird and quirky, sometimes violent, things my body is demonstrating, I remember this:  nothing about us will ever be 'normal' again! In all the most beautiful of ways.

I received the most thoughtful gift from the most thoughtful friend yesterday. A journal called, "One Line a Day". It's a tiny book that can collect five years of daily reflections - yes, all in one book. Such a sweet thing that I'm looking forward to using. This particular friend has four little ones, she knows my days of lingering with a cup of coffee and pensively penning my innermost thought for minutes on end will soon be hard to find, well, at least for about 18 years. But, one line a day? I think I can manage that!

I wonder quite frequently at this point what kind of mom I'll be. Blogs are sometimes the worst! (She says, ironically, as she blogs.) I read things from these moms who are still growing their own gardens and canning organic food, cooking and freezing 50 meals at a time, cloth diapering and saving their husbands tons of cash, actually doing the junk they see on pinterest, rocking out their kids' sleeping and eating schedules, and still managing to have a wardrobe that looks like it's somewhere near the last five years' style standards.

I'm not making any promises about those things to myself. If the house is still standing and we're fed and love each other, I will demand my husband celebrate our wild success with me.

Questions are constant at this point - are you going natural for labor? are you going to nurse or bottle-feed? what about childcare? Again. I'm making no promises. But I do have a few things I hope to do.

I hope to go natural for labor (cue chuckles from some of you). No, I have no 'granola' type notions about it, no convictions about wanting to be completely aware the first moment of my baby's arrival. Just two things - I’d love to avoid surgery…pretty simply, and also, I don't want it on our tab when we leave the hospital.

I am hoping to nurse, supposing it's healthier and more cost effective. But if it doesn't work out, I won't guilt myself into a pile of tears and remorse. We'll just choose the best formula possible and I'll hand off some midnight feedings to Webb.

Childcare? No clue. Not worried about it yet. (Rephrase, not letting myself worry about it.)

So, here we are! Three weeks to go! And what a journey this has been! A few snapshots - forgive the gaps, some phone pics need to remain on the phone and in the memory…only. (While all of pregnancy is memorable, it's not all pretty, amirite?)

Week 5 - We were both shocked!

 This was the craziest to me! The difference between weeks 5 and 9!

Week 12 - Things are starting to sink in - we're having a baby!

Week 14 - on one of my FOUR trips to Florida during this pregnancy. 

Week 20 - we're halfway and time is passing far too quickly! I wanted to freeze the moment, and I was saddened at the thought that probably all his growing up would feel this fast - especially in hindsight. Made a promise to myself to cherish every moment, every new phase and age he has, and all of his growing - even when that growing means independence from me and dad. 

Week 24 - enjoying the season we're in! I've spent so much of my pregnancy very much ok with being patient, waiting for his arrival. Partly out of sheer terror! But mostly, because I know these moments will only happen once. 

Week 25 - mostly just because that's my favorite maternity shirt. 

Week 29 - Third trimester and strangers are starting to give me preference for shopping carts and hold doors for me. High five. 

Week 32 - Happy mom and baby. My sister in law is my hero for letting me borrow this top - it's been a lifesaver on many "nothing will ever fit again!" days. 

Week 33 - Enjoying the holidays and trying on my new nursing cover from my best friend.

Week 35 - Yes, still the dead of winter and I'm wearing a summer top. This baby has undeniably altered my inner thermostat! 

And week 36 - Look at him, just poking his little self out there all proud and happy. Oh my, I love him. 

The nursery has transformed a bit…

Thanks to an awesome shower from our wonderful church family…

It was super special to have my Mom who came all the way from Arizona, my brother, Jeff, sister in law, Lisa, and their three kids (from West Virginia), AND my 'frister' Kristin, who traveled from Florida. 

 I did the first few loads of baby's laundry and squealed. One, because the Bock grandparents blessed us with an awesome new washer and dryer and laundry is actually fun! And two, because I was folding little boy clothes…what!? 

I would share a million more things with you if I thought you wouldn't slip into a coma. But now, the bags are packed, the carseat is loaded and ready, the prayers are whispered constantly - as I hope they always will be - and we are leaning into the calm and silence before we first hear his cry. Can't wait.