Mr. S and I

Monday, January 28, 2013

for the many

First of all.... I have been craving E.L. Fudge cookies for a solid week. You know the little vanilla sandwich cookies that look like the Keebler Elves with chocolate icing in the middle? I think it's because those were my FAVORITE when I was a little girl. When I was in third grade my mom was a teacher at my school. I kept asking if I could pack my own lunch, and one day she agreed that I could. I had a Lisa Frank lunch pail that would've made any 90's girl jealous. Unicorns, mermaids, flamingos, the whole gaudy Lisa Frank nine yards. I packed my lunch and got in the car to go to school with mom. I hung out in mom's room until it was time for me to go to my classroom. I guess at some point, Mrs. Thomas ( aka mom) checked my lunch, just to see what I had come up with. Mom usually packed a sammie, chips, fruit, drink, occasionally an awesome Lil Debbie Oatmeal Cream Pie, and a love note. ( Notes in your lunch really are the best!) I scampered off to class and dropped my lunch in my cubbie. 11:05 rolled around and we went to lunch. I opened my lunch box and found a note. It read as follows:

LB,
11 E.L. Fudge cookies does not count as a lunch. Don't do this again.
Love,
Mom

Ya'll I literally packed 11 E.L. Fudge cookies and NOTHING ELSE for my lunch. That's gotta be close to a whole sleeve. What's kinda cool is that my mom didn't take them away. I got to about cookie 3 and realized I was hungry for real food and went and got my school lunch card and ate Frito Chili Pie like any other healthy person... with extra cheese and canned peach slices... and chocolate milk.  I have not indulged my craving.. but if I do, I can eat as many as I want because I'm a grown up now...

Just don't tell Mrs. Thomas :)



When I found out I was pregnant I couldn't help but think about all the people who I knew had been trying, struggling, believing, begging and still were not pregnant. I know all too well the sting of seeing the Facebook announcement of another person sharing their joy. You want to be happy... you are happy for them... but their joy, and it IS joy, they should feel that way, is a reminder of your pain, your failure, your loss. It's an odd thing to be both genuinely happy for some one and jealous of them all at the same time. When I began to think about telling people, I knew that there were some who I would hurt. I knew that they would be happy for me, rejoice with me, but I also knew that this time, my joy would cause a sting, a twinge... it might even cause pain. That was a tough pill. I have bonded with countless women over loss, over grief, over understanding their darkest moments. We have walked a road that not everyone understands. When they told me about crying themselves to sleep or falling apart when a co worker announced an unplanned pregnancy I could share sobbing all the way home from baby showers and then feeling guilty because I loved the person who was pregnant, I really did, but that two hour come and go shower was torture. I could tell them about sitting in a bathroom stall weeping and keeping my hand tight over my mouth so that if anyone came in they wouldn't know that I was crying because once again, I wasn't pregnant. How could I possibly deliver a blow like that to them? I was the one that they could relate to. I was the one who wrote exactly what they were thinking, typed out their exact feelings, expressed their anger, their troubles, the ugly stuff that nobody wants to deal with.

I understand both sides of the coin. I understand the grief one can feel when it seems that every month it's not " your turn". I understand the smile you wear ( 99 percent real) when someone you love shares with you that they're having a baby. I understand the 1 percent that wants to scream and throw a fit and say " what about me?" And now... I understand the joy. The uncontrollable joy that comes with crossing the finish line to week 12 and thinking... we're doing this. This just got real. I understand sharing on Facebook and getting "likes" and tons of comments and feeling so loved. I understand just blurting it out to people at work and they scream and giggle and do little happy dances. I have now experienced both. Both are deeply emotional, both are real and you know what, both are OK. It's ok to be a little hurt, a little sad for yourself and maybe even a little mad. It's also going to be OK when it's your turn and you rent an airplane with a banner that says " We're pregnant!"

I guess tonight, this is for " the many". The many women who are still waiting, still praying, still hoping. For the ones who are weary. For the many who know that pursuing motherhood will be costly for them, whether it be financially, emotionally or both. For the many who swear that that stick is the last one they'll ever pee on and have closed the door for the time being. For the many who are looking to science, surrogates, adoption... whatever it takes to be called "mommy". This is for you, because I love you, because I have seen both sides, because I want you to know, you're not alone. For the many I love, the many I didn't want to hurt, the many I hope to inspire....


Lord make a way
you always make a way


It's not always YOUR way reader, remember that.

Make a way for " the many". You know them by name.
You know their children's names
Your will be done


Baby Smith,
I was thinking about you today. I can't wait until you fall asleep with your mouth hanging open and drool on my shoulder. I can't wait until you hold my hand. I can't wait until you have so many little friends to play with. Their mom's read this blog and they prayed for you just like I'm praying for them. It's going to be so good. You can pack your lunch sometimes, but I'm checking it. I'll always check it.

We press on,
LB








Monday, January 21, 2013

and then there were three

Psalm 139:13
For you formed my inward parts; you knitted me together in my mother's womb.

You guys, there is some serious "knitting" going on inside of me. In case you didn't see my Facebook post... I'm 12 weeks pregnant. Even as I type it, I can't really process it. There is a human being in me. A little boy or little girl. We saw the little T- rex today. It's a t -rex because that's what it's arms look like and it has legs and no feet and it's the most beautiful thing ever. It was just kicking it's little stumps and in that moment, I could finally relax. Let me take you back. 3 months ago.

I knew I was pregnant before I even missed my period. I knew a few days before. I felt exactly like I did the last time I was pregnant. I knew then, and I knew this time around. It was terrifying. I wish I could tell you that I was so happy, and joyful and filled with peace, but I wasn't. After you lose a baby, you are changed. Never again can you find out your pregnant and just fall in love and not worry and think " Oh that won't happen to me." Because it has happened. It happened and it hurt like hell. If you're not pregnant, you can't miscarry. if you're pregnant, you are vulnerable to that pain all over again...

We waited a few days to test. I was scared. We went to Wal Greens because my once heavily stocked medicine cabinet was no longer a pregnancy test store room. We had been talking about our adoption options, looking at our finances, I hadn't even thought about a pregnancy test. I was so nervous walking down the " family planning aisle". I grabbed the tests, (Yes multiple. You always buy more than one, always.) and we headed home. I didn't want to take them. Confirming it meant acknowledging that there was something precious there, something that could be lost.

Tests taken. Wait.

I couldn't even wait the specified time. Three minuets may as well be three hundred years.

Two pink lines.

Two BOLD pink lines.

My eyes welled up. I walked out of the bathroom and into our living room. Kindal was waiting on the couch. We both knew before we took the tests. This confirmed it. " This baby will live and not die" I said. It was a plea to the father, a battle cry to the enemy and it has been my motto for 12 long weeks.

This first trimester has both tested and renewed my faith. It tugged at old wounds and crushed my pride and it has changed me. I spent the first two weeks so fearful I couldn't even rejoice. Every twinge was a sign of miscarriage. Stupid girl. Don't fall in love with this baby. It will be gone just like the last one. You're going to get hurt. I was incredibly sick and taking extra hormones to prevent miscarriage and most days I didn't feel anything. I didn't want to bond. Bonding means joining together with something, and once bonded, the pulling apart hurts. It leaves it's residue on you forever, and I didn't want that. I felt empty. This thing that I had prayed for, begged for and eventually given up on, was now reality, and It was the scariest thing I had ever experienced. Several of my friends announced their pregnancies within the first few weeks. I remember thinking, " They'll be holding their babies and I'll be blogging about another loss". The enemy had me.

We told our families around Christmas and of course, they were all over joyed. It didn't feel real to me. I had always envisioned myself pregnant, glowing and carefree. Not so much. I was nauseated, constipated ( these are facts) exhausted and barely functioning. I was the terrible as being pregnant. I was not the " pregnant goddess" I had envisioned. I was eating saltines three meals a day, sleeping constantly and miserable. You are failing at this. you aren't good at it. How can you give birth? How can you handle a new born if you can't even do this?  I was defeated.

And then, the Father stepped in.

" Oh Lord, you have searched me and you know me. You know when I sit down and when I rise up. You discern my thoughts from afar. You search out my path and my lying down and are acquainted with all my ways. Even before a word is on my tongue, behold O Lord, you know it altogether. You hem me in, behind and before, and lay your hand upon me... Where shall I go from your spirit? Where shall I flee from your presence? If I say, surely the darkness shall cover me, and the light about me be night, even the darkness is not dark to you." Psalm 139 1-5 & 7, 11&12

"even the darkness is not dark to you"

did you catch that?

the darkness is not dark to Him.

That was transforming for me. It's more than just " God is bigger than the darkness. He can handle the darkness..." The darkness does not even register to him. It's not even there. That is huge. That is awesome... that is good news ya'll. I spent the better part of my first trimester afraid. I let the darkness consume my thoughts. It weaved it's way into my heart, it wrapped its fingers around my throat and it stole joy from my life, from my husband's life and from my baby's life. When the Father came to me, I looked at him and I spewed out " Do you see all this? Do you see all this hurt? All this darkness? I can't do this! I don't want to lose another baby. I don't want to hurt again." He looked at me and he laid his hand upon me ( vs.5) and he said " What darkness? It is not darkness to me, daughter. Open your eyes and see the light."

And I did. I saw our journey. I saw this blog. I saw the hope my pregnancy could bring to others who are wrapped in darkness. I saw my baby growing. I saw myself in labor ( God help me). I saw myself as a mommy. I saw us adopting, because I still believe we will. I saw my children playing and I saw the goodness of the Father all over again. He knew how I would react. He knew I would doubt. He knew I would be afraid. " Even before a word is on my tongue, you know it all together". 

I just can't believe it.

I'm a mom.

Kindal is a daddy

My parents are online shopping addicts ( just kidding. They aren't making any purchases until we know the sex. February 18... we're shutting the stores down) Daddy says Ferris Wheels come in gender neutral colors :)

Thank you Jesus.

Little Baby Smith, you are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen even though you don't look 100 percent human yet. You are a joy to my heart. I can't wait to hold you! When I see you for the first time, I promise I'll kiss your sweet face and tell you " I'm sorry it took us so long." Do me a solid and have small shoulders and a dainty rib cage. Please don't be 10 pounds like your daddy when he was a baby. Please? Thanks. I love you more than you could ever know.

We press on,
LB