Maybe 2020 wasn't as bad as we think

 As 2020 comes to a close, I've seen a lot of posts about "P*** off 2020" or "What a horrible year..."

My parents were talking about that the other day, and my mom recounted their conversation to me. She said that she told my dad what an awful year this had been for our family, with only two of the nine of us not having medical issues that put us in the hospital.

But my dad said, "It wasn't a horrible year, it was a wonderful year."

That's because, despite our baby's heartrate dropping during labor and having to be born via C-section, during which one of my arteries was cut and I hemorrhaged blood almost to the point of a transfusion, we were both fine.

Despite my brother's entire family getting in a terrible car accident and flipping their vehicle, they were fine.

Despite my dad suffering from kidney stones and cutting his hand and needing stitches, he was fine.

In all honesty, we could have lost six of the nine of us this year, very easily. Had just a few things been different, six of us could have died. It's not unheard of. You see tragedies like that in the news all the time, that a mom loses her entire family just before Christmas or a wife's husband and children die in a wreck.

But that didn't happen to us. Thank you God that our family is still intact, that we're in generally good health, although some are still recuperating from injuries.

It really is all in the way that you look at it.

Yes, this year has been crazy, but even that craziness has brought in good. We've been stuck at home, but that means that I've had so much time to be able to spend with our daughter and bond with her. I quit my job, but it worked out perfectly because we had to move for my husband's new job anyway. We left behind many good friends in our move, but we've been able to see our family at least once every two weeks, when it used to be months in between visits.

2020 has been a memorable year, but when we look back at the good that has come from what could be deemed "worthless" and "horrible" and just tossed aside, we'd be losing a lot of good memories, a lot of reasons to be thankful.

So, thank you Lord for 2020. Thank you for the lessons. Thank you for bringing us through.

And if 2021 is the same or "worse," let us not wish time away but make the most of what You have given us. As Jeremy Camp's new song says, "Let me live with my eyes wide open. 'Cause I don't want to miss what you have for me."

Stop pushing against God

 Our daughter was fussing in church, and she was giving definite signs that she was hungry so I got up to take her into the bathroom to nurse her and quiet her down for the rest of service.

My mom arms have definitely acclimated to holding our 22-pound 7-month-old, but she can still make it difficult sometimes when she is squirming, or planking, or just trying to wriggle out of my grasp.

I was standing in a stall with the door open --- I figured I didn't want to just stare at a door but wanted to be able to close it if someone came in --- and was looking at us in the mirror while she ate. My arms were starting to get tired, and I realized that it was because while she was eating, she was pushing against my chest with one of her hands. Had she just rested and snuggled in while I was providing her with what she needed, it would have been easier and more relaxing for the both of us. However, she's an independent little gipper and she doesn't snuggle in regularly.

It kind of hit me in that moment how much that is like the human relationship to God.

God can provide us with all that we need, if we let him. However, we are so "independent" and think we can rely on ourselves that even when we humble ourselves enough to let him "help" us, we're still usually pushing back and trying to take on some of the work. When really, if we just leaned in to him and let him provide, it would be much easier on the relationship and on both of us.

I'm guessing that God so often looks at us the way that I looked at our daughter --- "If you just rest, I'll still give you everything you need. You don't need to keep pushing against me."

It's often hard to humble ourselves enough to just rest in the moment and let God take care of us. We're really not as independent as we often think we are.

It's not Thanksgiving, but let's still be thankful

 What if you woke up today with only the things that you thanked God for yesterday?

As I was packing our house and unpacking our new apartment, I came across a couple of sayings that my mom had written down for me several years ago. She made a bookmark with the above statement, and I decided to keep it in my daily devotional book, because it makes me think.

What do I need to make sure that I'm thanking God for more regularly? What is right in front of me that I take for granted, that I would be sad if it weren't there tomorrow?

So this morning, I started off by thanking God for the things in my life I would be devastated if I didn't have.

Obviously, my little girl and my amazing husband. Our dog. Our home. Plenty of food in the refrigerator and warmth from the cold. For our salvation and the grace and forgiveness of Jesus. For breath and life, for a new day that is laid before me. For financial stability in hard times. For health. For an extended family that also knows the love of God.

If you were to truly thank God for everything that is good in your life, how long would it take you? It would take me hours! Perhaps that's why 1 Thessalonians 5:17 says "Pray without ceasing." We should be constantly taking note of what God has blessed us with, ask him how we can use that for others, pray for those we come across and continually be thanking God for what is in our lives.

One more sign that my mom made that is now hanging on our fridge reads, "Dear God, I just want to take a moment, not to ask for anything, but to simply say 'thank you' for all I have."

It's not Thanksgiving, but let's remember to be thankful for all that we have this season.

Two things I'm thankful for today

Two sentences hit me hard and caused me to be overcome with thankfulness in an unexpected way today. 

"[God's] will is preeminent and will be done."

God's will is over all. God's ability to accomplish his will doesn't depend on if Christians do what they're supposed to, when they're supposed to do it. It doesn't depend on the right President getting elected to office. It doesn't depend on a terrorism attack getting stopped instead of happening. It's doesn't depend on anything.

Think about the salvation of mankind. God decided that to save the human race, his son would have to come to Earth, live a perfect life and die for our sins before rising again and beating Satan and death. Accomplishing that purpose didn't depend on any actions of humans --- God simply used what humans did to complete his already established will, his already planned out plan.

"It is only by grace that we celebrate a lordship other than our own."

I so often look at people on social media, those who have huge followings and who think of themselves as quite something, and I judge them. Why do they think they are so important? I mean, I know that I'm not the center of the world --- now, I may sometimes act like it, unfortunately, but that's a different story --- why don't they see that they really aren't all that high and mighty?

That's where this quote hit me.

So many people see themselves as the end-all-be-all because they don't have anything else. They don't believe in a God who created this universe, who is bigger than them, who saved them from sin, who they can rely on for anything. All they have is themselves to solve problems, to make the best life for themselves, to strive to be the best they can be. They are their own lords.

And that made me realize that it truly is by grace --- undeserved mercy --- that God revealed himself to me. I should be celebrating daily that I know the truth, that I know that God exists and that I know there is someone out there much bigger than me that I can take all my problems to, that cares about me, that gives me purpose.

I don't think I've ever thought about how blessed I am to have that knowledge before.

So today, I'm thankful that I am not my own lord and that my Lord's will doesn't depend on me or anyone else, but that it will always be done.

Quotes from "New Morning Mercies" by Paul David Tripp.

Free to love

 So many mornings, I put our daughter in bed with me and watch some TV while we both wake up.

OK, while I wake up and while she plays a bit with some toys I give her.

Usually, she sits/lays next to me against the pillows, but the other day she wasn't happy just being next to me. She wiggled her way over until she was leaning against my stomach with my arm on her and then she stopped fussing and began playing.

She just wanted to be touching me, snuggling with me, instead of just next to me.

It was the first time she ever wanted to actually snuggle with me, and it made me smile. It made my heart melt because it was her choice to be near me instead of me placing her by my side.

Someone asked my husband this week why bad things happen in this world if there is a God. He responded because of free will. But why would God give us free will if it leads to bad things? There are a lot of ways to answer that, but I think one of them is illustrated by what my daughter did.

God created his children, and he wants his children to love him. However, he doesn't want to force it; he wants them to choose it.

As sweet as it was having our girl snuggled against me as a baby, it wasn't her choice. I just picked her up and held her. It was a whole other thing to have her wiggle her way over to me and snuggle me by her choice. She chose to love on me in that moment, and that made it so much sweeter than when I just love on her.

God could force us to be perfect and to not give us any choice but to love him. However, he wanted the joy of us realizing that we need him and choosing to love him with all we have. It's so much sweeter when your kids want to be by your side, and God knew that.

What organization doesn't thrive when it has two leaders?

If you know me, you know that I'm passionate about the traditional view of family with the woman as the helpmate to the husband, who is the leader. That's hard for a lot of women to accept, and I could go back to the fall of mankind and the curse that was placed on Eve to desire to be her husband's leader but I won't go into that right now --- well, beyond that. Instead, I want you to watch the video above and see Oscar's comments on the stupidity of a corporation having two branch managers.

"It doesn't take a genius to know that any organization thrives when it has two leaders. Go ahead, name a country that doesn't have two presidents, a boat that sets sail without two captains. Where would Catholicism be without the popes?"

It sounds absurd, doesn't it? A company with two CEOs? A country with two presidents? A boat with two captains? Duh, who would make the decisions?

So why, when we look at a family, is it so repulsive to think that there should be one person who is the head?

In the Christian view, the man is the head of the family, but that does not make the woman any less. Let me repeat that --- the man is the head of the family, but THAT DOES NOT MAKE THE WOMAN ANY LESS.

Charles Swindoll put it this way in his Living Insights commentary on Colossians: "...Christ serves as the perfect example. Though equal in nature to the Father, sharing in the same divinity, power, glory and authority, the Son submitted to the Father's will to accomplish God's plan of redemption, humbling himself in obedience."

That's what it means when a wife is supposed to submit to her husband.

The big issue is often pride. Christ, in humility, submitted himself to the will of the Father to die on the cross for the sins of mankind. He didn't say, "But I'm God. I'm too good to do something like that. I'm not lower than you, lower than mankind. I can make decisions myself."

Instead, he humbled himself in submission.

Wives, you're not a lowly woman who has to submit to her husband. You get to submit, to show yourself humble, to put your husband above yourself so that the will of God can rule in your family's life. You're not told to submit to any man; you're not to make yourself lower than men in general. You're to submit to your husband.

Wives are to be a helpmate, just like Eve was created to do. The President has his cabinet to help him make decisions, but in the end, he makes the decisions and is held responsible. The pope has cardinals and bishops to help in making decisions, but in the end, the pope makes decisions and is held responsible. The CEO of a company can consult with managers, vice presidents and other leaders, but in the end makes the decisions and is held responsible.

Wives, give your husband good counsel. But in the end, in humility, submit to God's plan and to your husband's leadership and let him make the decision. He will then be held responsible for that decision, both on Earth and in heaven, as the leader of your family.

Because a corporation doesn't run well with two leaders. A country doesn't run well with two leaders. A church doesn't run well with two leaders.

And neither does a family.

God loves them

 I think in times of uncertainty, we often think the worst.

With the uncertainty of the election right now, I have thought the worst of what could happen to this country. My mind jumps ahead to religious persecution and destitution. Then I think, there are Christians all around the world who are in that right now. There were Christians throughout history who lived under tyrants, despots and those who did atrocious things to the faithful.

I have read many stories of Christians who not only stayed faithful during horrific times but also showed love to the leaders, soldiers and guards who hated them, beat them and even killed them.

Why?

Because God loves them.

I am currently editing a sermon my former pastor gave on Jesus' crucifixion, which is awful to try to edit or even read about, and he addressed the fact that God the Father didn't do anything while Jesus was put through such hell on Earth. He didn't smite all those involved.

Why?

Because God loved them.

He loved Judas. He loved Pilate. He loved Herod. He loved the Roman soldiers and the members of the Sanhedrin. He loved them so much that he wanted to save them from their sins but sending an atoning sacrifice, and the only perfect atoning sacrifice that could take the place of all those sins was the sacrifice of Jesus, God's own son.

But it wasn't just them. I am sinful. You are sinful. We all are sinful. We all deserve to die and spend eternity in hell, as far away from our perfect God as our mistakes have brought us. But we don't have to, because of God's grace.

Why did he give us that grace?

Because he loves us.

So when we are faced with people who hate us, who want to persecute us, who want to strip away our rights and freedoms, remember that God us and God even loves them. And it's up to us to show that love.

Eyes but no sight

 To start, it's been a long time since I've blogged. We just moved across the state, and I have a six-month-old --- that's about all the explanation that's needed!

However, I've been trying to continue digging into God's Word and that always makes me think of things to write. Writing also helps me process what I've been reading.

Today's devotional encouraged reading Psalm 115. In the passage, David (I'm assuming David wrote this one) talked about idols.

"Their idols are silver and gold, the work of human hands. They have mouth, but do not speak; eyes, but do not see. They have ears, but do not hear; noses, but do not smell. They have hands, but do not feel; feet, but do not walk; and they do not make a sound in their throat. Those who make them become like them..." (Psalm 115: 4-8).

When I look at the messy world around me, I often see people who don't know God and think, "Why can't they see the truth? It's so obvious!"

Verse 8 says "Those who make them become like them." Obviously, the election is on my mind, so I thought in frames of that. If someone is making hatred of Donald Trump his or her idol, what he or she focuses on, what rules his or her life --- they start to become like that idol. That hatred can't see, can't hear, can't smell. That means, that person can't see truth before them, can't hear what rational arguments. As obvious as I think something is, that person is so consumed with hatred that truth will not sink in.

If you dislike Donald  Trump and can't hear that way of framing this, think instead of someone who idolizes material goods. Say she loves expensive purses. It is what she thinks about, spends her money, prioritizes. Those purses can't see, can't hear, can't smell, can't move. When someone suggests that perhaps $1,000 might be better spent on say family time, food or electric bills, she can't hear the logic in that argument. She can't see that anything in life is better than getting the next great purse.

We have to be so careful not to let things around us become idols. Not only will we be focusing on the wrong things, but it can actually be hard to come back from because we will be so blinded, so deafened by the idol that we can't see or hear the logic to get out. We become like our idols --- useless, stagnant and ultimately worthless.

Instead, we should focus on things above, on Jesus and on his kingdom. If we become what we focus on, what we idolize, then focusing on God will make us righteous, set apart, of great value and able to make a difference. That sounds so much better than blind, deaf and stagnant.

Beyond all I can ask for or imagine

A few months ago, I noticed a dark band running down my thumbnail.

I thought it was odd, but it didn't go much beyond that. When it didn't go away, I decided to look it up online to see if there was a reason for it.

Since the Internet always jumps to the most dramatic conclusion, the most logical explanation seemed to be that it was a sign of melanoma. I sent a photo to a local dermatologist who said that it did indeed need biopsied, and my doctor agreed.

Of course, that led me down a rabbithole of looking online and just confirming my worst fears. It led to praying, crying and worrying as I waited.

I've always struggled with worry, and it can get out of control pretty easily with me. I finally found some prayers online and a blog that helped me to rein in my terror. I keep repeating 2 Corinthians 10:5b, "we take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ." I need to keep repeating the truth that God is bigger, greater and has everything under control.

One of my favorite fictional characters says in a book that God is not up there wringing his hands going, "How did this happen?"

The reason that I have been freaking out though, is because my life is just too good. I'm so worried that something is going to happen and my life is going to be taken away from me. I'm worried that I won't get to see my daughter grow up, live a full life with my wonderful husband or get to have any more children with him. I absolutely love every moment of my life with my husband and daughter, and I just want more of it.

I have such a tight hold on my life, that it is difficult to unlease my grasp and give it to God. I know he knows best, and I pray that there is nothing wrong when I get the biopsy next week, but giving up control is difficult --- even though I don't actually have control at any moment. Any moment any of us could die for a number of reasons.

Today, my favorite book characters quoted Ephesians 3:20-21, "Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be the glory in the church and in Christ throughout all generations, forever and ever. Amen."

Immeasurably more than we can ask or imagine.

Our God is so big that we can't even think to ask him to do all that he can do. We can't even imagine what he can accomplish.

That is power.

In this crazy year, when it seems like around every turn God is showing me that I have no control, but that he is truly in control, it's a nice reminder that he is so powerful that it's beyond anything I can ask for or imagine. He can do literally ANYTHING. If anyone is in control, I want it to be him.

I've got to let go of all that I hold so tightly to and give it to him, because it's better in his hands than mine anyway.

Little piranhas

The nurse told us she didn't have any worries about our daughter being able to breastfeed well when we went home, because "She's a little piranha."

It sure seems like that has come true, because she has steadily gained weight and grown --- putting her off of the growth chart for her age. Nate jokes that I feed her gravy.

This morning, I wasn't getting ready to feed her quite quick enough for her liking, which happens quite often, and she started wailing. I had her in my arms, I had the breastfeeding pillow, she should have known that she'd have what she wanted soon and that I haven't let her starve yet, but she still couldn't quite help but crying that she didn't have what she wanted right when she wanted it.

I looked at her as she calmed as soon as she started to eat and wondered if that's how God sees us.

He is a mature adult, much wiser than we are. He looks at us like a wailing baby, when we act like we know best and want what we want when we want it.

"I'm working on it for you," I bet he says. "Can't you see that I'm solving the problem for you? It just takes some time."

But we wail anyway. Even though he has never let us down before, we still want what we want when we want it.

The good thing is, when I look at my daughter as she wails, I smile. I never thought a crying baby would make me smile, but she's so adorable and I love her so much that even her cries are cute. Plus, it's almost comical that she can't wait a few seconds for me to provide for her.

I'm guessing God looks at us the same way. He knows that our brains aren't developed enough to see that he's working on our problems, to see that he is taking care of us, to see that we have nothing to worry about. He smiles, because he loves us. He doesn't mind that we sometimes cry out to him, because he created us and wants to take care of us.

And he is.

Even if we're piranhas and want what we want when we want it.

I don't want to forget

I stood in front of Nate in the hospital room, no makeup, leggings and a tank top, my hair pulled back.

"You're beautiful," he said, smiling at me.

I looked down at myself, unimpressed.

"I'm not even wearing makeup."

"You're just a natural beauty then."

At a moment when I was in pain from surgery, had a postpartum pooch and knew my husband had seen me in very ungraceful moments, the fact that he said I was beautiful was music to my ears --- and my tender heart.

His words seared themselves into my memory and endeared him to me even more.

This moment and so many others in the past few weeks have been small, but at that moment and in others I have stopped and just tried to soak it in, tried to make a memory. I don't want to forget the light in his eyes when he told me I was a natural beauty. I don't want to forget the feel of my baby's peach fuzz head against my lips as she falls asleep on my chest when I lift her to burp. I don't want to forget the silly, pursed-lip face she makes right after she eats and stretches.

I don't want to forget.

Having a newborn is crazy. It's surreal at times. It is already going so quickly.

That is one reason I write these blogs, because I don't want to forget.

Meeting our girl: Part V

The doctor was exactly right that I could feel tons of pressure, pulling, but I didn’t feel any pain. It was only a couple of minutes until the doctor said, “Dad, do you want to watch?”

Nate leaned taller and looked over the barrier as I heard the doctor say, “Look at all that hair! Wow, she’s big. She just keeps coming out.”

I turned my head to the left and tried to get a view of my daughter as she was looked over by the nurses. Just past Nate, I saw a little leg go up in the air and I smiled as I saw a fat roll on the thigh.

She has fat thighs like I did. And tears started to flow.

The anesthesiologist looked at me. “Are you in pain?” I shook my head. “Are they happy tears?” I nodded and smiled as I watched her. Finally, they held her up a bit so I could see her scowling face.

Then I heard from behind the curtain, “Well, that could be terrible.”

What? My concentration switched from our infant daughter to trying to hear what was going on with me.

Nate looked at me, “Are you OK?”

I shrugged my shoulders a bit and looked at him questioningly. “I think so.”

A few minutes later, the nurse looked at me, and I think she could see that my focus was still on listening to the doctors about what was going on with me. “Are you OK?”

“Am I OK?”

The doctors called out for the anesthesiologist to give me medicine, and then another kind of medicine. She gave me a shot of something as well.

We heard later that I have an anatomically off body and that an artery that is supposed to run next to my uterus actually curves in front, and it was cut during surgery. I lost blood and hemorrhaged to the point that my doctor later told me “Your uterus looked like shredded meat.”

As they were repairing me, I gave it to God. I looked over at you at prayed, Lord, if it’s my time, please take care of my baby.

Thankfully, it wasn’t my time.

They brought you to me and placed you on my chest for some skin-to-skin time, and we took our first family photo. I talked to you, and I could see those dark blue eyes looking at me with questions.

“She recognizes your voice, doesn’t she?” Nate asked.

“Yeah, I think she recognizes my voice but not my face and is trying to figure it out,” I said.

My upper body had continued to shake badly throughout surgery and was still shaking with you in my arms. They took you and gave you to daddy while surgery wrapped up, and nausea set in. You and daddy left to another room to weigh you and check you over, and I vomited as the operating room was cleaned up.

Doctors and nurses congratulated me, and I tried to respond, but I felt horrible. They transferred me to yet another bed and wheeled me down the hall into a room where I could see you. I just wanted to throw up and feel better, but there wasn’t anything in me and I laid there feeling miserable. Your wonderful daddy was holding you with a big smile but looked at me consolingly as I felt about ready to pass out.

The anesthesiologist kept giving me more and more Zofran to combat the nausea but nothing seemed to be working.

Finally, I felt like I could open my eyes.

“Do you want to try to nurse?” The nurse asked.

I nodded and sat up a little in bed.

They placed you in my arms and tucked you under the covers with me, and we attempted to nurse a little bit.

The nausea quickly went away with you in my arms.

Meeting our girl: Part IV

I continued to feel contractions only in my right side. They tried to prop me up so that medication wouldn’t only affect one side, but they also didn’t want to lay me on my back so that your heart rate wouldn’t drop again.

“Maybe we can put you on your right side? How has baby done with that?”

“Fine, I think,” I said.

However, within a minute or so of rolling over, your heart rate dropped and I had to turn back over. The put the oxygen mask on again, and the doctor came in.

“Let’s talk about a C-section,” she said. “I can’t give you Pitocin because baby is being naughty, and I see very little probability of a vaginal birth without fetal distress. We can give it a couple of hours to see if progress is made, but at that point it may be an emergency C-section.”

I looked at Nate, and he looked at me.

“I’ll give you some time to talk about it, and I’ll be back in,” the doctor said and left the room.

“What do you think?” I asked Nate.

“I think it seems silly to wait until an emergency C-section,” he said.

“I agree. If I haven’t done anything yet, I don’t think a couple of hours is going to change anything. We don’t want it to be an emergency,” I said.

The nurse came in, and we told her we wanted to go ahead and schedule the surgery, and it was set up for 9:45 a.m.

Nate changed into a white sterile suit, blue booties, a blue surgeon’s cap and put on his N95 mask. They put a floral surgical cap on me, and then a flood of people started to enter the room.

The anesthesiologist gave me more medication through the epidural --- which actually turned out great that I already had it in so I didn’t have to be put to sleep. More nurses came in to transfer me to a different bed that would take me down to surgery, and I was wheeled away, into the silver elevator and down to the first floor.

I began shaking involuntarily as I was wheeled through pairs of doors and into the white operating room where a mass of people began introducing themselves to me. They asked if I could move onto the operating table, but my legs were completely numb at this point, so I was no help.

I felt like an infant as they rolled me from side to side, onto a wooden slab to slide me then onto the operating table, and rolled me back and forth to then slide me back off of the slab. Blue cloths were draped around my stomach and a blue curtain hung up in front of me as Nate walked around the side and took his place on my left, holding my hand. Even with his mask on, I could see by his squinty, bright eyes that he was smiling.

“This is the doctor that is going to be doing the surgery, and I’ll be assisting,” my doctor told me, peeking over the blue barrier between us. “When it comes to it, you’re going to feel a lot of pulling and tugging. When we pull her out, I’ll basically be on top of you, pushing on you.”

Then they began tests to make sure that I was numb. When we discussed C-sections, I asked about that. I’ve had enough dental procedures to know that Novocain doesn’t really work on me, and I’ve felt everything that has been done. Anesthesia makes me nervous because I am afraid that I’ll feel pain.

However, they began to poke, prod and pull skin.

“Can you feel this?”

“I can feel pressure.”

“No pain?”

“No. Wait, there,” the last touch, I could feel a sharp pinch, and I heard one doctor say to the other. “That’s above the navel line.”

And then surgery began.

Meeting our girl: Part III

At about 5 a.m., I was struggling. My backup plan to natural childbirth was to have some IV meds --- fentanyl --- if needed. The nurse had checked, and I still wasn’t dilated past a 1, so I decided I needed some relief and got some fentanyl.

“This may make you a little goofy,” she said as she put it in the IV port.

A few minutes later, it apparently kicked in, because the nurse asked if I needed anything --- ice chips, jello, a freeze pop.

“A freeze pop!” I said.

Your dad laughed, realizing that the medicine had definitely kicked in as I thoroughly enjoyed the half of a red popsicle that was brought in to me.

When a contraction hit, I held it out to him, “Take this,” and I breathed through. “Can I have the popsicle back?” I asked when it was over.

The meds lasted for a little while, and I dozed off for a few minutes but then I started to feel more and more pain as the contractions came back and the medicine wore off. I reached out in my sleep to grab your dad’s hand as a contraction gripped me, then dozed off for a minute, then reached out to grab his hand as another one came on.

“I heard you had quite the night,” said nurse Kayla, when her shift came the next morning. “A seven-minute contraction? When they told me they gave you the medicine to start contractions, I knew that was going to happen. You already had such strong contractions yesterday afternoon.”

I was once again on the nursing ball, and she had suggested leaning against the bed for support, but I said that I was just leaning on your dad. I needed him there. It eased the pain.

“You have such a great support system,” the nurse said. “When I was induced, my husband and sister were there and they slept while I cried.”

The contractions were still incredibly strong, still coming in pairs ---- a contraction, one minute, a contraction, five minutes. It went like this again and again.

The nurse said she could have anticipated that my contractions would be crazy strong.

“You might want to think about an epidural. I don’t like to push them, and I love what you’re doing, breathing through them. However, if you haven’t progressed much more, we need you to have strength left to push later. Just think about it.”

It was morning, and the doctor came in to check my progress.

She grimaced a bit as she checked my cervix, “I can put you at a good 1.”

No more dilation. All those contractions and nothing.

“Are you ready for your epidural?” the doctor asked.

“She doesn’t want an epidural,” the nurse said. “I told her that we would need her later to push though.”

After their recommendations, I decided to get through my terror of the epidural needle in my back.

“I can’t do this for 12 more hours,” I said. “Let’s do it.”

“They are already on the floor, getting an epidural to someone else so they should be right in.”

The anesthesiologist came in to prepare, and she set to work. She told me that she would work fast, but there would come a moment when she wouldn’t be able to stop even during a contraction and I would have to breathe through. Nate told them that my contractions came in five-minute doubles, and they tried to work between them.

However, right as the doctor got to the part where she couldn’t stop, I felt a contraction beginning. I grabbed your dad’s hand and squeezed as I told the doctor, “I have a contraction.”

“Breathe through it,” she said, and I hunched forward as she worked, groaning and squeezing your dad’s hand about to death as I fought the pain.

One minute later, it happened again.

“Breathe through it,” she said.

I squeezed Nate’s hand hard enough that I saw him shake it out once I released it as the contraction passed.

It only took a minute or so until my left side was going numb. I felt a contraction, but I only felt it in my right side.

When I was feeling quite good, Nate looked at me.

“Do you mind if I eat something?”

“Of course not! Go for it.”

“It won’t bother you since you can’t eat?”

“Not at all. You could have eaten the whole time,” I said.

“You couldn’t eat. Solidarity,” he said, holding up a fist.

Meeting our girl: Part II

In the next few hours though, the contractions didn’t follow suit. They got worse and worse, although walking helped to ease the pain quite a bit. We strapped on our N95 masks, looped the monitor cords around my shoulders and took off through the halls --- me in my lovely blue flowered moomoo labor gown, pink floral robe and dark blue snowflake slippers that I had gotten for Christmas but saved for the hospital.

“You’d think they could pick something more flattering. That is really the most unflattering pattern and design they could have gotten, I think,” Nate said.

“I know, Tina got a cute pink polka-dot gown and I have this,” I said, referring to our friends who had recently had a baby in Colorado.

I had brought a robe and thought I would be concerned with looking nice still, but at that point, I really didn’t care. I knew your dad didn’t care what I was wearing either.

I dozed off in the middle of the night, and laid in a child’s pose position on the bed, trying find a more comfortable position with the contractions. I leaned back slightly at one point and felt a large thunk in the upper left side of my abdomen.

I furrowed my eyebrows and thought to myself, “Huh, did she just move really hard or…”

Then I felt liquid begin to gush out of me. I mean gush. I had researched so many times what it felt like to have your water break to see if that is what was happening, hoping I was in labor. Now that I felt it, it seemed a silly thing to look up. Dear goodness, it was obvious what was happening as the bed and a towel that was next to me quickly started to soak.

“Nate.”

He was asleep on the couch turned cot next to me.

“Nate,” I said louder.

No response.

“Nate,” I said louder, not wanting to bother anyone else in the ward at 2 a.m.

I looked at the remote next to me, debating on tossing it next to him to wake him up.

“Nate!”

He looked up.

“My water broke.”

He hopped out of bed. We tried to the nurse call, but like the other times we tried, it didn’t work. He stuck his head in the hall looking for someone at the desk but not finding anyone.

He finally got the attention of the nurses and they came in, “My water broke,” I said. “What do I do?”

They helped me make my way to the bathroom, stripped the bed and remade it with dry sheets.

I had slept for about 15 minutes in between contractions, and your dad had dozed for about 50 minutes, but at this point we knew we weren’t going back to sleep. After my water broke, my contractions got incredibly strong. The rocking chair was horribly uncomfortable, as was the bed. We finally found that sitting on a ball and leaning back into your dad was the best way to deal with the contractions that came in twos every five minutes.

I would lean back, and he would hold me up in his strong arms as the contraction torched through my abdomen.

“Remember to breathe,” he would gently say in my ear when I wouldn’t realize I was holding my breath. “You’re doing great.”

After one was over, he’d lean over and kiss my cheek.

Meeting our girl: Part I

41 weeks.

No dilation.

That’s where we were at when my doctor brought up induction and said we can wait, but I said let’s go ahead and book it. If there wasn’t any progress yet, it didn’t seem like any was going to be made in the next couple of days and I didn’t want to let it go too long to encounter any risks.

Your heart rate was just slightly low, 114-119 instead of 120-160, so I was sent to Labor and Delivery for a non-stress test to make sure everything was OK prior to induction. Your heartrate perked up when you started moving around like usual, and the monitor kept jumping with the contractions that I have felt regularly for months.

“Your uterus is ready,” the nurse, named Kayla, said. “Your contractions are better than the other gal here being induced.”

 I was sent home with a good diagnosis and a sheet that said induction would start the next morning.

We were going to get to meet our girl!

I called my boss and let him know that I wouldn’t be working anymore for a while, and my phone kept buzzing in the background. When I hung up, I realized my doctor had called and texted saying that Labor and Delivery had enough staff that I could start the induction that night.

Your dad was playing video games, “The doctor said we could start induction tonight.”

“What do you think?”

“She said it can be good to get some rest while the first process begins, so we might as well.”

It was 4:30 p.m., and we started to go around the house and make final preparations. We cleaned up the dishes in the kitchen, swept the floor, finished packing our bags. Your dad pulled out ingredients to make dinner and then looked at the clock, 4:45 p.m.

“I think we’re both a little antsy,” I said. “It’s like, what are we supposed to do with this time?”

So we finished a few other chores, and finally sat on the front porch in the sun and ate ham and eggs for dinner --- good protein and still light enough to not make me sick in labor.

We said good-bye to the dog, dropped some cardboard off at the recycling center and headed to the hospital. We put on our N95 masks, unloaded the car and headed to the east entrance of the hospital.

The door was locked.

I looked at the sheet again. It didn’t say where to check in, but we assumed it was the labor and delivery side. I called the number on the form and asked if we were supposed to check in on the east side.

“No, there’s no one there at this time,” a person named Diane, who I later learned is one of the labor and delivery nurses, said. “Go to the emergency entrance and you can register there.”

So we walked back to the red Explorer, put our stuff in the backseat and drove around to the other side of the small hospital. Masks, unpack, walk in --- this time the door was open and we could get registered. An EMT, who of course knew your dad, escorted us through the hospital and up to Labor and Delivery.

The doctor waited with supplies to insert a balloon through the cervix to inflate it and help start dilation. Unfortunately, my body was still not dilated enough to even get the induction started that way. We would instead take a pill to start contractions and try again with the balloon in the morning.

We played a quick game of cribbage and then video chatted with Mimi and Papa as contractions began. I thought the monitor was slipping on my stomach, because the fetal heartrate monitor started to drop.

“I think it’s picking up your heart rate,” Nate said.

We said good-bye to Mimi and Papa as nurses walked in with concerned looks at the fetal heart rate monitor that was now blinking in the 60s.

One nurse moved the monitor receiver around, and the heartrate still did not rise.

“Lay on your left side,” one said, and another took the oxygen mask off of the wall and put it over my nose and mouth.

Your heart rate started to go back up, and we learned that you are not a fan of me sitting up and leaning back. I laid on my left side until your heart rate was stable. Apparently, I had a seven-minute contraction that left you quite uncomfortable.

The nurses asked about my contractions, which were showing up strong on the chart, just like they had at my test that afternoon.

“They’re fine, no more pain than I have had in the past few months with them,” I said, and the nurse looked at me a little oddly, like I should be feeling worse.

She left and I said to your dad, “I feel like I should be in more pain. I don’t know if they’re not that bad or I’m tough!”

One moment at a time

I didn't think that today would look like it does.

I thought at this point that I would have an infant girl to look after, a baby to hold.

However, she is still rolling around in my belly, making it continue to look like a basketball --- well, she tends to sit at an odd angle, making it look more like a football than a basketball from the top.

I'm still working, and gauging everything I feel, hoping that it means that it's time to finally go into labor at more than 40 weeks pregnant. But no progress on that front.

I have kept up the self-talk. God knows when this little one will be born. He has her story written. He knows what is going on inside --- if she needs a little extra time, if she needs her immunity built up. He knows what is going on at the hospital --- if a doctor needs a day off, if certain doctors and nurses need to be there and we're just waiting for that time, if we need to be a witness to someone there. He has a perfect plan, and we're just waiting for it to fall into place.

I know that I've been blessed with an easy pregnancy and to be able to carry our girl for a solid 40+ weeks. Many women wish they could get pregnant, and many others wish they could carry full term. I have nothing to complain about and everything to be thankful for.

I keep praying for patience, giving this little girl and our whole situation to him.

But I'm not perfect. I'm antsy. I want the time to be here. I have to admit to praying, "Can she please come today? I understand if it's not your will, but if there is any way possible for it to fit into your will, can she please come soon?"

This last month has been a solid lesson in the need for me to trust in God and to not plan out every detail of my life.

With COVID-19, my life hasn't looked at all like I thought it would. I don't know how to plan ahead, because I don't know what's going to happen. We're getting new information every day, and I'm thankful most of it is much more positive than anticipated. However, questions like, "When can we visit the baby?" are still not answerable. It's something we just have to take one day at a time.

Then, with our little one, I planned everything out according to her due date. I knew that a due date is just a guess and that she could be born anytime from 37-42 weeks, but I still figured at least in the last week she would have been born. We've got everything ready. We planned and prepared. But here we are, still waiting.

It's odd not having any control over the situation. You'd think with our child, in my body, there would be something I could do to help labor start. However, there's not. It's a complete waiting game. It's a complete God thing. Even doctors don't understand exactly what makes labor begin naturally. Only God can flip the ignition switch.

Taking life as it comes and trusting God one day at a time, one moment at a time has been a mantra of mine for years. I think I get better at it until something in my life goes out of my control --- well, it's always technically out of my control, but it often feels in control --- and then I have to relearn that lesson all over again.

So here we are, one moment at a time. Keeping moving, keeping trusting, repeatedly giving up control when I take it back again.

I know you've got this, Lord. Help me to concentrate on that. One moment at a time.

I will rejoice...?

I never think it's a coincidence when the same passage of Scripture ends up showing up in multiple places in a short period of time.

And in the past two weeks, Habakkuk 3 has come up.

Habakkuk? When is the last time I read or heard anything about Habakkuk?

It came up in a sermon, and it was also a reading section in my devotional book the same week.

Habakkuk 3:17-18 says, "Though the fig tree should not blossom, nor fruit re on the vines,  the produce of the olive fail and the fields yield no food, the flock be cut off from the fold and there be no herd in the stalls, yet I will rejoice in the Lord; I still take joy in the God of my salvation." (ESV)

We were watching a podcast yesterday that says we should be grateful during this pandemic that it is waking us up from a 75- to 100-year nap when nothing bad happened in our country. Yes, bad things have happened, but really, we've had it rather easy for the most part, especially during the current lifetime.

We should be thankful because this trouble shows our weak spots, helps us see reality that we need to prepare for in the future, shows us the strength of our leaders, and our own strength.

I go even further to say thank you for a time like this to wake us up to see where we really stand with God. Do we trust him only when things are easy? Do we rejoice and find joy only when things are simple and going our way? Or do we rejoice when the stalls and fields are empty and disease is on our doorstep?

I have to say that I want to rejoice, and I want to tell God that I will rejoice no matter what. It makes me nervous to commit to that --- I mean, bad things are in our country, but they haven't come for me or my family. What if they do? What if I say I'll rejoice and then God tests that commitment?

I pray that I still will. I pray that Habakkuk will remind me that no matter what, I will take joy in the God of my salvation and will rejoice in him alone, not my circumstances.

God will reveal my faults if I ask for it

I was scrolling through Facebook one morning, when I saw a post from a woman that she has been asking God to reveal her faults, to clean her heart.

She wrote, "When he reveals things to you that shouldn't be there, repent and experience transformational growth."

I prayed a quick prayer. I want that. I want God to show me where my faults are so that they can be fixed.

I would have to say, it was about a half hour later, and I forgot all about that quick prayer, that I received a complaint from someone about something I did. I was quite shocked at the complaint to be honest, and I didn't really think I did anything wrong. I fixed it quick, but I still couldn't get my mind off of it.

Was what I did wrong? Why did someone complain? Was it that big of a deal?

I came to the conclusion that what I did wasn't necessarily wrong. I did it at a time that I shouldn't have, and I considered that before I did it, but I didn't think that was a big deal. So, yes, that was wrong. But it seemed like someone blew it out of proportion and read into something that I certainly didn't mean.

However, I still felt off. I still couldn't shake a guilty feeling.

I was laying in bed that night, still thinking about it. When the word "pride" came into my brain. My pride at thinking that I was perfect in that situation, and no one should have complaints about me.

It was with that thought that the guilty feeling went away, and it was right then that I remembered the prayer that I prayed that morning.

So I repented of pride that I hold in many areas of my life, and I realized that if I prayed for correction and prayed that the bad would be revealed in my life, that wasn't going to feel good. However, I should thank God that he listened and that he listens.

I keep thinking about that as I get ready to parent a little one. My heart is still so messed up. I'm still so sinful. How am I equipped to show another person that her heart is also messed up and sinful? How am I to provide a good example? How can I teach her lessons that I am still learning myself every day?

I'm thankful for God's grace. I'm thankful that he doesn't expect me to be perfect, or to be a perfect parent, but that he does continue to parent me and give me grace every day.

It doesn't feel good, but may he continue to show me areas where I fall short. May each day be a learning lesson for not only myself but also for my husband and I to reveal brokenness in the life of our child so that she too can experience God's grace and grow.

Our God is greater

It's not the world that we expected to welcome our first child into.

A world of quarantine, minor panic, unknowns --- there's a page in the baby book that has the prompt "Major world events" to write about. Well, I know what that one's going to say --- coronavirus, COVID-19.

It goes moment by moment, day by day, how I react to getting ready to have a baby at a time that COVID-19 cases are probably going to peak in the U.S. I float between worry and faith.

When I have moments, or longer than moments, of doubt, I have a few things that I've been able to tell myself.

1. God loves this child more than I do. We haven't met our daughter yet, but we love her. Yet, as much as we love her, we have to realize that God loves her even more. I think that I have created her in my body, but I haven't. He has. He has stitched her together in my womb, and he created her intentionally, perfectly, exactly the way that he wanted.

2. God knows this girl already and has every day of her life mapped out already. That's so much more than I can say. I will spend the rest of my life getting to know this little girl, but God already knows what her personality will be and what each moment of her life will entail. He is so much bigger than me.

3. I never had control anyway. I think we like to think that when things are going smoothly, that we have control. In reality though, we didn't have control. Just because COVID-19 is spreading and making us feel out of control, it's really no different. We have always just been human, and God has always been the great God that is in control of everything. We just have to face it a bit more at the moment.

4. God knew this was going to happen. Although Nate and I didn't expect this would be the world that our daughter would be born into, and eight months ago we couldn't have seen it, God knew what was up ahead. He knew exactly what the world would be like.

I'm not saying things are going to be perfect. In fact, I think it's wrong to tell each other that everything will be fine and God will protect us all. This world is sinful, it's evil, it's sick. It's not what God wanted when he created it, but it's what the fall of humanity brought upon us. He could put a stop to all illness, to all disease, to all death --- but that would be the end of the world. If that's not where we're at, then it's not. That means that we trust God, no matter what happens. It means that if someone gets sick, that we pray for healing. However, if someone isn't healed, we pray that will be used for the good of God's kingdom.

Trusting God doesn't mean that we trust our lives will be perfect. That's not trust. That's using God like a genie. Trusting God means that we trust that good or bad, we can rely on him to get us through, for his grace to save us, for his grace to get through today and look positively at tomorrow, for the next world to be better than this one.

"I'm no longer a slave to fear; I am a child of God." That's what we sang at online church this morning, amid social distancing. We don't have to fear. We don't have to be anxious. Not because everything will be perfect, but because we know God will work things out perfectly...even if we don't see it or understand it.

The other song that keeps going through my head when I wake up at night is "Our God is greater. Our God is stronger. God, you are higher than any other. Our God is healer, awesome in power, our God, our God."

10 years ago I started this blog

I started this blog 10 years ago.

I had a different job. I wasn't married. I wasn't pregnant. I didn't know where life was going to take me.

I still don't know where life is going to take me.

My husband and I are planners, but there is only so much in life that you can plan for. You don't know what career opportunities may arise. You don't know where God may lead. You don't know what great things and what hardships may fall before you.

Maybe we should change "planners" to "preparers."

We're prepared for what we expect, but we're also prepared for the unexpected. We're prepared that life may change in ways that we can't anticipate.

I was reading Psalm 139 this morning, and I could read it two-fold. "For you formed my inward parts; you knitted me together in my mother's womb. I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are your works; my soul knows it very well. My frame was not hidden from you, when I was being made in secret, intricately woven in the depths of the earth. Your eyes saw my unformed substance; in your book were written, every one of them, the days that were formed for me, when as yet there was none of them." (Psalm 139:13-16)

I praise God that I don't know where life will lead, but that he has everything under control and already knows where we will go and how we can make a difference.

Yet, I also read that for our daughter. Even now, God is knitting her together. She is fearfully and wonderfully made. I can't see her, but he can. Beyond that, he knows what her life will be. He knows her every day. None of them are yet to be outside the womb, but he knows exactly what each of them holds.

When I think of those days, I don't know what to expect. However, I am prepared to cherish every one of them. There is a finite amount of days that I have, and a finite amount of days that we will have with her. May I always remember that I only have that day once. May I not get caught up in the tiredness but realize that she will only be an infant for a matter of months, a baby for months, a toddler for but a few years, a kid for a limited amount of time.

Thank God that he has a plan, and may we feel secure in being prepared but also not let our plans affect where his plan leads.

Who knows where we will be in the next 10 years?

He does. That's all that I need to know right now.

Take it and be grateful

When planning the 40th anniversary party for my parents, my mom kept offering to buy items.

"I can get some Chex Mix to put in bowls on the table," she said in a phone call.

"Why on earth would you buy something for your own party? No, you're not buying Chex Mix," I answered.

"We can at least pick up a couple of cases of water."

"No! It's your party that we're giving you, you're not buying anything for it."

I hung up the phone and told my husband that my parents were trying to buy stuff for their own party. Who does that?

Fast forward about four months, and a sweet girl from church is planning a baby shower for me.

I texted her and asked if I could provide some food or help set-up. She responded with, "It's a party for you, you're not allowed to help out in any financial way."

OK, so I get it, Mom. It's hard to let people do stuff for you.

I have another friend who is pregnant and really down for the count. Thankfully, I didn't have to deal with that, but pregnancy does make you tired and makes moving a bit more difficult. Both of our husbands have been pitching in, and as wives, we've struggled a bit trying to accept those gifts.

I know Nate would bring me a glass of water, but I'm not an invalid, so I can get it for myself. I don't want him to think that I'm lazy. Would I like it if I didn't have to get up? Yes. I'm certainly not going to ask for help though.

I think for a lot of women, and people in general, it's hard to accept help. It's even harder to ask for it. Yet, at some points in life, we need it.

What I told my friend was, I think that our husbands appreciate the opportunity to serve us. I think that they feel needed when they can take care of us when we're not at our best.

I like the saying, "Take it and be grateful."

Sometimes not accepting a gift is just as rude as asking for it. Sometimes arguing when someone wants to do something takes the joy out of it for them. Sometimes you just accept the gift, accept the help and show that you're thankful for it.

I have a feeling I'm going to have more of that to come when our baby's born. I'm going to have to just accept that I'm not a superhero and take help and be thankful.

Remind me of that if I forget, OK?

It's a....

I’ve thought since the beginning that we were going to have a baby boy.

It’s not that I wouldn’t be happy with a girl, but we have six nieces and we want a boy to carry on the family name — plus, I’m not a girly girl most of the time and I think we both just relate to boys better.

So, in my head, I called this baby a boy. I was quite convinced it was a boy, although I knew that my first-time mom’s intuition could be wrong.

It was a couple of days before our 20-week ultrasound that I caught myself saying something about the baby and saying, “she.” I kind of stopped myself and changed that to “it,” but I was a little surprised that “she” had even entered my mind. It hadn’t before, and here I was saying it out loud.

Then a day later, I called it a “she” in my head without thinking about it.

“Hmmm…is it a girl?” I thought.

We went in for an ultrasound, and the baby looked just perfect. There was the head, the four chambers of the heart, the black blob on the screen that was the stomach, the location of the kidneys — that I couldn’t see but the ultrasound tech said was there.

The ultrasound tech continued down the little body and asked, “Do you want to know the gender now?”

“Yes.”

“Do you have an idea?” she asked.

I looked at the screen.

“Well, I thought boy, but I’m not seeing anything,” I responded.

“It’s a girl!”

I looked at Nate with a smile. He was smiling too.

We saw that little girl’s healthy blood flow to her spine, her tiny, perfect ribs, her femur, tibia and ulna. We tried to get a glimpse of her beautiful face, but she hid it behind her arm as she tucked herself more comfortably in.

We left the ultrasound office with photos of our precious girl, and I said to Nate, “Well, that was kind of a surprise.”

“Was it?” He asked. “The odds were 50/50.”

I guess, yes, I was surprised. I had talked myself into our baby being a boy. I just assumed it was going to be a boy.

I started thinking about it though, and since I expected it to be a boy but God gave us a girl, what did He know that I didn’t? He must have big plans for this baby girl that he specifically chose to give us a baby that I wasn’t expecting. He knows exactly what he’s doing, what we need, who this child will be.

I think it might make me even more excited to meet her. God specifically chose to give us her, not just a baby, but her, individually, this child.

I’m so excited to meet her, to hold her, to get to know her. There are now 14 weeks left, and I know I should appreciate this time that I have right now — when I can nap when I want — but I can’t wait to see who this little lady is that God has so generously decided to bless us with.