New Year...New Season

It’s about time for another story...I’m officially 24 weeks pregnant today with this sweet Isaac boy, so I think I will share his story. It’s one that has been almost four years in the making, so it promises many great things. 

It all starts on January 13, 2015-the day my Charis Rose was born. She was my fastest delivery, at a short nine hours, but what many don’t know is that her cord was prolapsed-tight-around her neck-to the point that, when she was born, she was a deep purple, and unresponsive. She barely touched my skin before she was whisked over to the cart, where so many nurses worked swiftly and quietly with “the bag” to get her breathing. After the longest minutes of my life, I heard excited voices as she began to stir and breathe on her own. It is a day I’ll never forget. And I’m so thankful for every person who helped my girl that day. I knew God’s plan was for good, and I had a strange peace, but it was still scary to trust that the gift you’d been given was truly ok, and she really just needed a minute. 

After the stress was over and Patrick was again allowed to take pictures, the nurses began to clear out, and Charis rested on the warming table, he stood studying her for a moment, and said, “I’ll give you one more if you want.”  At that present moment, still in Labor and Delivery, I was not even ready to consider possibly going through this heart-wrenching risk again. But I didn’t say no. Later, he shared the source of his words: the Holy Spirit had told him that we could have another child IF we wanted to. Now, that’s a heavy burden to carry-that you have the freedom to choose either way, whether to create another person or not. Both options have eternal implications. But, my God wasn’t through yet...

Time marched on, and when Charis was about a year old, Elijah, then seven, came to me one day, speaking with great confidence. He said, “Mommy, you’re gonna have another baby, and it’s gonna be a boy. And when you do, I want to name him Isaac, because Isaac means laughter, and I want a brother who can make me laugh.”  And I knew. I knew those weren’t just “I want a little brother” requests. I knew God was weaving a new thread into this complex tapestry of our lives. But, at that moment, I had two little girls in diapers or pull ups, and was definitely not ready to receive that word. So, I tucked it away. 

In the meantime, I continued to struggle with my health, trying desperately to find time to take care of a back and shoulder that were collapsing under the weight of so many little people who needed so many different things. My shoulder had literally sagged a good two inches lower than its partner from the weight of carrying babies and bags, and quite honestly, burdens that weren’t mine to bear, and I was in constant pain. Pain that disrupted thoughts and caused me to lash out in anger to those who didn’t deserve it. It truly changed me, until I began to be obedient to God’s plan for ME, which was more than just existing for everyone to drain me empty. I was made for more than this. So, I began to make time to exercise, specifically working those painful parts. I started getting massages to help me heal, against every instinct that told me that I was being selfish, and needed to be available to my family. The truth was that my existence was hollow at best, because I was trying to give what I didn’t have to others. So, I protected those times, and I continue to do so today. I can’t pour from an empty cup. 

I began to see improvement in my quality of life, and was able to start willingly giving again, as the cup began to fill and body began to heal. And spring came. I found myself traveling to Mexico with my husband to help him reclaim his life. And we both came home different. He began to shrink, and the tiny seed of hope in my heart began to grow again. We again revisited that conversation of having another child. We were both really excited with where our kids were. No one was in diapers. We were almost done with that weird toddler phase, where little people don’t like to listen and have irrational meltdowns. It was so...enjoyable. 

And yet, as I prayed, the word the Lord gave me was, “Stretch out your tent pegs.”  Now, in scripture, this refers to adding children to a family, and I was still in the camp of being very happy with our family the way it was. But, the more I prayed, the more I felt the gentle push of the Holy Spirit to trust, to leap, and to rely on Him. 

With so many uncertainties, we decided to have this child-this promise- wrapped and given without delay or difficulty.  I still wrestled with the original word, that we could have another child if we wanted, so I prayed. The Lord showed me that He knew what the outcome would be all along, but when He knows He can trust us to seek His heart for our lives, He gives us choices. He truly knows us better than we know ourselves. And He trusts us. Why do I struggle so hard to trust Him when I can only see those little glimpses of the plan He has?

This pregnancy has been one of my easiest so far. I asked the Lord to make my body do the things it was supposed to do when I embarked on this journey, and He has been faithful to answer. During my last two pregnancies, I had to take progesterone supplements because I wasn’t making enough, and it truly sapped my energy and made me even more nauseated during the first trimester.  I was done with being unable to be my best self, and the Lord heard my heart. My body made more than enough progesterone on its own to see me through the first trimester. The journey hasn’t been perfect, but it has been pure joy. I’m confident that this child is meant to be a joy to all his life touches. And I’m watching God weave his story into ours every day. 

Milestones

It’s been a few weeks since I’ve written. Life has been so busy in preparation for Christmas that ALOT of things had to be set aside for a season. So, now, I’m picking things back up, and I’m making a moment to reflect on all of the good things happening. 

I’ve felt in the past few months that our whole house has been in transition, growing in one way or another. My children are doing what they are supposed to do, and growing like weeds, so their closets are in need of a good purging. My husband is shrinking and out growing everything in his closet, and I’m expanding and outgrowing all of my regular clothes, needing to unpack and wash and put away all my maternity clothes. So, there have been piles all over for the past few weeks-piles of maternity clothes I haven’t had time to put away after washing, piles of smaller clothes for my hubby that he can’t quite wear yet, and closets that scream at me to do something to make all of life run a little smoother. 

I’m beyond blessed that these are the problems we have: maternity clothes that were stored simply need to be brought back out and put in rotation, clothes given for Christmas need to just be hung up and small things taken away for kiddos, and Patrick’s clothes need to be gone through. The next size is just a rack away, waiting to be moved up into regular rotation. 

Since Christmas, this has been how the bulk of my time has been spent. I’m happy to say that the new clothes have made their way into the children’s closets, though they still could use some purging, my maternity clothes are hung and ready and regular clothes have been put away for another day. And yesterday, I started work on Patrick’s closet. 

Last night, I started pulling out the large amount of 6x shirts that he’s worn for the past 4 years. As I folded each one to sort into boxes, I found a great sense of pride welling up within me. His accomplishment seems so much more concrete as I take these sizes out for good. 

Let me be truly honest for a moment...this will be the first time in our marriage I’ve gotten rid of a size of my husband’s clothes. As the sizes changed over the years, I always just folded them up and put them in storage. I believed that, one day, he would return to those smaller sizes. So, after I  folded and put away all of the too-large shirts, I went to the garage and pulled out a massive box of our old things. While he panicked about the loss of his things that look ridiculously big on him, I pulled out some old favorites to wash. In that box, I found the khaki pants he wore to our wedding reception 14 years ago-and they will comfortably fit him now. He probably hasn’t worn those pants in a decade.  I’m blown away at God’s goodness!  

I think this season of great transition is such a ripe time to see God’s evident goodness and provision. I’m so thankful for His abundance, and that He affords me the opportunity to put some order to the wonderful change in this precious time.