Thrive

Sometime back in January we were at small group and the leader posed an interesting question. She said "If you could choose one word to define the year 2014, what word would you choose?" Almost immediately the word THRIVE came to mind. The word came to me so quickly it was as if God was waiting like an impatient little kid, bouncing on tiptoes, ready to give me my word as soon as the time was right. Thrive. The word couldn't have been more timely. We had just finally begun to wrap our minds around the idea that our twins would be born in 2014. The concept of thriving was the furthest thing from the survival mode that most of December had been. THRIVE felt like the first warm day after a long snowy winter. THRIVE felt like falling into a cozy warm bed after a hard day's work. It felt good, right even. But it also felt impossible. "How can we possibly THRIVE with twins on the way, Lord?" I argued. "The strain on my body, on our finances, on Isaiah?! This is going to ruin his life!" But still, the word just kind of sat there, waiting for me to examine it, to think it through, to trust the promise. So I fiddled with it all that day. I thought about what it might look like to THRIVE as a family of 5. I thought about what I might look like 9 months pregnant and thriving. I pictured Isaiah laughing and playing with his siblings, thriving with a childhood surrounded by his siblings as friends. I liked the way THRIVE looked but it still felt too far away, too distant from the emotional survival mode I'd been in.

And then I forgot. I forgot about the word, about how good the promise of thrive felt. Like I left it under a chair somewhere and never thought to go after it. Maybe I chose to forget? Maybe it seemed too unrealistic so I let it go? Or maybe I just plum forgot. Either way, I forgot. Until last Sunday.

We did a song in church on Sunday by Casting Crowns called "Thrive." Listen to it in all it's awesomeness here. I'm standing in church, looking down at my 2 week old twins asleep in their stroller, and I'm weeping tears of gratitude and thankfulness for a life that THRIVES, that is a living, breathing, pulsating picture of something that is (present tense!) THRIVING. The twins did not undo us. The pregnancy was actually pretty easy. The c-section did not ruin me. Isaiah actually enjoys his siblings. We are a THRIVING family of 5!

Found on a store front window in Linwood.

As if that weren't enough, now I'm beginning to see the word pop up in random places. As if God has determined to help me not forget this time around.

"We know we were made for 

so much more than ordinary life. 

It's time to do more than just survive. 

We were made to thrive. 

Joy unspeakable, 

Faith unsinkable, 

Love unstoppable, 

Anything is possible."

Looking back now I'm actually chuckling at how many times God tried to break through my uncertainty and my fear at having twins. I hate that hindsight is so much more clear than when you're living the moment. Around the same time God gave me the word THRIVE, he also gave me the song "Glorious Unfolding" by Steven Curtis Chapman. The very first verse says:

"Lay your head down tonight

Take a rest from the fight

Don’t try to figure it out

Just listen to what I’m whispering to your heart

‘Cause I know this is not

Anything like you thought

The story of your life was gonna be

And it feels like the end has started closing in on you

But it’s just not true

There’s so much of the story that’s still yet to unfold" 

And when I first heard it, that's exactly where I was- fighting with God over His provision in giving us twins, letting fear & doubt creep in at the thought that this might upset or ruin our family dynamic. The promise of this actually being the Glorious Unfolding felt a lot like THRIVE. I loved the concept but didn't trust the promise. I couldn't quite move past the first verse to embrace the chorus.

And now, fast forward to yesterday. My awesome mother-in-love sent me the link to the video for the song, which I happened to watch while I was nursing Micaiah. So as I am literally NURSING a small part of God's Glorious Unfolding in my life, I was overcome by gratitude and thankfulness that He is

"Forever revealing the depth and the beauty 

of His unfailing Love

And the story has only begun

And this is going to be a glorious unfolding

Just you wait and see and you will be amazed"

I am LIVING the chorus right now. I am amazed at what God is doing with and through our family. I'm amazed at how many people have stepped up to love on us, bring us meals, drop off diapers, offer to run errands & do our laundry, give gifts and cards and encouraging words and timely scriptures and pray over us. We are literally seeing God's Glorious Unfolding every day as He uses His people to minister to us in this season. It's an incredible thing to be on the receiving end of God's generosity.

We were made to thrive.

The Girl Who Cried C-Section

38 weeks with twins!

Today is a very important day for the Read Twins. Together we have made it to the 38 weeks mark! All of the nurses at the clinic and hospital (as well as our friends and family) have been so encouraging about making this far.

On Tuesday I had a check up and the doctor said everyone looks healthy, hearts are strong and I've even dilated to 3 cm! Everything was perfect! Except McKenna, Baby A, was still not head down. This led the doctor & I into a long conversation about when this pregnancy should come to an end. In her opinion, I should schedule a c-section for as soon as possible. I wanted to wait through this weekend and see if I could get McKenna to turn. She said she'd give until 39 weeks. Discouraged and heartbroken I climbed into my car and sobbed onto the steering wheel. My broken prayer went something like this "God, why won't You turn this baby? I know You can do it! I know it's not beyond You yet You remain silent and my baby remains still. Why Lord?"

After I had collected myself, I called Daniel to relay the sad news but got no answer. Then I called our doula and she had some wonderful insight and encouragement though she too recommended I schedule the c-section. When your doula recommends a c-section then you KNOW your options are miniscule. All that afternoon and later that night I railed against God and His silence. Why was He being so quiet with me? Where was the "peace that surpasses understanding?" I'm falling apart and God is not helping.

Wednesday was a slightly better day in that at least I wasn't crying at the mere thought of a c-section. I also found a chiropractor who specializes in the Webster technique, a method of care known for turning breech babies head down. He is fantastic and I highly recommend him, wether you are pregnant or not. Here's the link to the Clearly Chiropractic facebook page. He gave me hope that we might still have a window to get McKenna to turn.

Today we had scheduled a growth scan to see exactly how big these babies have gotten as well as to check on amniotic fluid levels and other late term pregnancy details. Turns out that little Miss McKenna, weighing in at 6 lbs 10 ounces, my daughter who won't turn, may be stuck because her GIGANTIC 9 lb brother won't give her the space to do so! We were SHOCKED to hear that Micaiah might weigh 9 lbs! We will be even MORE shocked if that turns out to really be true. (Ultrasound weights are known to be off by a pound or so.)

And with that detail the door is officially closed on a vaginal delivery. Most hospitals have 2 caveats for vaginal twin deliveries 1.) that Baby A is head down and 2.) that Baby A is bigger than Baby B. The doctor explained to us that because Micaiah is 33% bigger than his sister, even if McKenna were head down, she would do all the work for her little 6 lb. 10 oz. self but that would likely not be enough for her 9 lb. brother to get out too.

And so Friday June 27th sometime after 2 pm in the afternoon, the Read Twins will take their first breaths and they will be out for all the world to see and hold! OK maybe not ALL the world but all the people in OUR little personal world. It's not how I would have written the story but when you're not the one holding the pen you don't get to make those decisions. I'm sad and disappointed because I wanted the same naturally empowering delivery for the twins that I got to have with Isaiah but who knows how God will use this story?

So now that I am resigned to a c-section I ask that you might still continue to pray for an incredibly fast and easy recovery. I am not looking forward to the restrictions and limitations that come with major abdominal surgery, especially with an an active 2 year old to look after. Pray that God is gracious to my body and allows it to heal with speed and ease.

Also if you are so inclined to hospital visits, we welcome the company but ask that you check with Daniel before just showing up. Thanks for praying and loving our little family. Here's to the Read 3 becoming the Read 5!

July 10

After my previous blog post, I have had so many people come alongside to encourage me in this pregnancy. If you have been one of those people, from the bottom of my heart: THANK YOU! We are feeling the prayers and support that you are sending our way.

One friend, a mom to 8 month old boy/girl twins, commented on my blog and had some very specific encouragement to offer (Hi Angela!) She said her twins were born at 38 weeks but that they struggled to nurse. She wondered if they had stayed inside longer if they wouldn't have had as much trouble. That one statement blew me away. And here's why. I've heard that so. many. times. that twins usually come early, I've subconsciously had it in my mind that twins are SUPPOSED to come early. Of course if I had actually thought it through I would have said otherwise, but in my mind our twins were going to be born before 38 weeks because that's just what twins do. I hadn't even CONSIDERED that 38 weeks is STILL 2 weeks early and that babies born early typically have a few more issues than babies that make it to 40 weeks and beyond. (I know there can be exceptions to this as newborns do not exactly have reputations as being predictable. I'm only speaking in terms of averages/generalizations.) I've been thinking all along that my due date is June 26, which is 38 weeks. No. My due date is July 10- 40 weeks. That's the new goal. 40 weeks gestation carrying twins.

So Monday evening, Daniel came home from work and as we were rehashing our days, I told him about my conversation with Angela and her valuable insight. He very gently and lovingly reminded me that, while I am uncomfortable and VERY ready to deliver these babies, it's still easier with them on the inside than on the outside. The longer they stay inside the stronger their lungs get, the more weight they gain so they'll sleep for longer stretches, the better they'll nurse, etc etc. The ONLY reason to deliver early is if the babies are in some kind of trouble and none of our monitoring has shown any sign of trouble. So by Monday night I was feeling as though I had been given a second wind. Not only will I carry these babies as long as possible, I will choose to rejoice in every day that I'm NOT in labor!

As if that weren't enough to boost my sails, I had 2 doctor's appts on Tuesday- a regular check up as well as a non-stress test/amniotic fluid check. At the check up I learned that I'm 2 cm dilated (WOOHOO, that's 2 cm closer to being 10 cm!) and I also learned that the hospital won't suggest I be induced at 38 weeks as long as both the babies & I are showing no signs of distress. I had been told all along they wouldn't "allow" me to go much past 38 weeks so I have been mentally preparing myself for a bit of a fight (as I really really do not want to be induced.) Hearing the doctor give verbal permission to put off induction gave me SUCH encouragement, as it reaffirmed that the hospital really is on my side and not some villainous institution designed to snatch my babies from my womb before they're ready. (Please forgive the theatrics but birthin' babies the natural way is not always smiled upon.)

Here's the moral of my story. When I was pregnant with Isaiah, I decided I wanted to have a natural, unmedicated delivery. I had 2 reasons for this. The main reason was because I wanted it to be an act of worship, trusting God as my Creator and therefore trusting my body, God's creation, to do the job the way He designed it. The second reason was because I had done a lot of research on the effects of various hospital interventions on newborns and I didn't like a lot of what I had read. It was a 100% personal decision between Daniel & I. It was also an INCREDIBLY empowering experience for me. You see, I'm not very athletic. I've never "pushed my body to it's limits" before. I don't know the physical pain and struggle that many athletes go through. In truth, I've never really liked my body, athletic or not. When I was in labor with Isaiah and feeling every single contraction, every single push, every single nerve ending crying out in pain, I actually liked & appreciated my body. I was grateful to have been made a woman and to have been equipped with the tools necessary to deliver this child, the physical representation of the love between Daniel & I. That day I was INCREDIBLY grateful for the body I have. I want to feel that way again. I want to worship my Creator by pushing my body to it's limits and using His creation the way He intended. I want to deliver these twins into the world knowing that it was my God who carried me through and not anything man made.

Now before I offend anyone, I know there are a billion different birth stories out there and NONE of those stories are wrong. Your birth story is as unique to you and your personality as mine is to me. Please know I'm only speaking for myself and for what has been true for me. I know God carries us women through EVERY birth, whether it's on an operating table, at a water birth, or in the back of an ambulance. I'm not downplaying you or God's role in your story, I'm just telling mine.

So, here's to 3 more weeks of pregnancy. The new goal is 40 weeks aka July 10. I got this!

P.S.- If God brings our family to your mind, would you pray for these specifics:
1. Pray that McKenna, Baby A, turns head down. She is currently breech and the hospital will not allow a vaginal delivery if Baby A is breech.
2. Pray that I continue to get the sleep I so desperately need.
3. Pray that the hospital staff on duty the day I deliver is compassionate and flexible with our birth vision.

The Girl Who Cried Labor: Strike 2

36 WEEKS WITH TWINS!

This past Thursday was an important day for me and this pregnancy. I hit my gestational goal of 36 weeks on Thursday June 12- WOOHOO! In the days after we found out we were expecting twins, there were several twin pregnancy "warnings" that began to surface, mainly the risk of twins being born early and the increased possibility of bedrest. So as I got used to the idea of carrying twins, I decided I was going to set a goal of 36 weeks for these babies. I decided to do everything in my power to keep them cookin' for 36 weeks and we have made it to the goal!

The other piece of the puzzle was avoiding bed rest at all cost. Daniel was convinced that if I upped my activity level early on then I could trick my body into thinking being super active is the norm. And I think it worked! I have chased after Isaiah and walked as much as possible plus God has been gracious and I have had zero reason to be put on bed rest- praise the Lord!! My blood pressure is normal, the babies heart rates are perfect, we are doing GREAT!

BUT the one thing I wasn't warned about was being on high alert for signs of labor once I got close to the end. Most of the resources I read said that twins come early. So since December I've had it in my mind that ours would too. Making it to 36 weeks seemed like an eternity anyway, surely they'd come not long after that. And now, at least once a day, I think either my water broke or I'm having contractions (more productive than Braxton Hicks contractions anyway.)

Once a day. Every. Single. Day since I hit my 36 weeks mark.

A few nights ago I got up at 3 am to use the bathroom and was CERTAIN my water broke. I joyfully climbed back into bed thinking "I'll get sleep now so that when the painful contraction start up I'll have a little more energy stored." Next thing I know, it's 8am and I awake with no pain, no contractions, no signs of labor whatsoever. Sigh.

This past Sunday morning I was at church and I just picked up Isaiah from his Sunday School class. As I was walking up the stairs to the sanctuary I felt little drops of water hitting the backs of my legs. I thought "Finally! This is it!" I quickly handed Isaiah to Daniel and ran to the bathroom to take care of things. Except there was nothing to take care of. I had no clue where the water had come from. Until I got back to Daniel & Isaiah and saw that the lid to Isaiah's water bottle wasn't screwed on tightly and was sprinkling water droplets with every step. Ugh. Double sigh.

Or the WORST is when I have a dream that I am already in labor only to wake up and discover IT WAS JUST A DREAM! GGGAAAHHH!!

Every internal twinge, every trip to the bathroom, every movement or kick from the twins and I think I'm on the verge of labor. It's ANNOYING! And the worst part is, I KNOW what it feels like to go into labor. When I was pregnant with Isaiah, it was very obvious when my water broke- there was no guessing game about it.

I am more than just the girl who cried labor. I'm the obsessive, can-think-of-little-else, nearly-gone-crazy girl who cried labor.

The thrill of my 36 week victory was short-lived considering now I'd do just about anything to get labor started. Send me your wives tales, your theories, and your advice friends as I am one HUGELY pregnant, overly-tired mama who is ready to meet these babes on the OUTSIDE!

And I'll be 37 weeks on Thursday June 19.

The Girl Who Cried Labor

My water broke last night. Or so I thought. No, this wasn't another case of me stepping in a melted ice cube or anything like that. I truly thought the beginning of the end had begun.

Daniel & Isaiah were out on the porch getting their hair cut. I went out with a towel to brush off Isaiah and as I bent down, suddenly there was a puddle below me! I rushed up stairs to get cleaned up, trying to remember all that I've been taught about recognizing amniotic fluid. When I was nearing the end of my pregnancy with Isaiah, my doula gave me an awesome tip for this sort of thing. You know how the Pampers Swaddlers diapers have that wetness indicator strip? The one that turns from yellow to blue after your baby has peed in the diaper? Well, she recommended I wear a diaper like a pad and if the strip turns colors then VOILA! proof that my water had broken. So in goes the diaper and we went about our evening. I kept waiting for the contractions to start but... nothing. When my water broke with Isaiah, the contractions began about a half an hour later. There was no question that labor had begun (of course it didn't hurt that Isaiah was already a week overdue and we knew labor was inevitable.) But by the time we climbed into bed last night I was beginning to think it had been a false alarm. No contractions yet. Maybe I just have an over active bladder.

As I lay in bed trying to get comfortable enough to fall asleep, my thoughts kept racing back and forth. "I'm only 34 weeks, and 36 weeks has been my goal. I don't really want labor to start anyway."
"But everyone says twins come early. Besides, they should weigh enough to be healthy by now."
"But every day in the womb is another day closer to their best start possible."
"But I'm so weary of this pregnancy. Can't it be over now?!"
And back and forth my thoughts would go.

Finally I fell into a restless sleep, still not fully convinced my water hadn't broken and waiting for the pain of contractions to begin. And then came the dream.

In my dream, the contractions HAD begun. So I woke Daniel and we began to pack for the hospital. I called my mom and our doula and both came over to do their part. However, Dena our doula was quietly panicking, chastising us for not already having packed our hospital bags and trying to hurry us along. I kept thinking "this isn't right, we're supposed to labor at home. Why is she rushing us to get to the hospital?" Then I realized my body was already pushing. Daniel reached down to catch our daughter and out she slid. She was covered in typical newborn baby goo but she wasn't a newborn. She was a tall, gangly 2 year old. She had long stringy brown hair and something about her was not right. She didn't cry, she didn't make any noise at all, she just opened her eyes and blinked at us. But something was missing. She had no life in her eyes. She wasn't dead but she was definitely not all there. My mom took her from Daniel and cleaned her up. She also gave her a hair cut so her long hair wasn't in her face and eyes. She found some toddler clothes and dressed her. In the meantime, my contractions had stopped. It seemed that McKenna's brother was not as eager to make his entrance as his sister had been. I couldn't shake the fact that something was wrong with McKenna. And why wasn't she a baby? She was born 6 weeks early, something was not right.

And that was the end of the dream. As if I wasn't already struggling to sleep well, this dream left me unsettled and even more weary. And still no sign of labor actually beginning. I even checked my diaper wetness indicator but it was still yellow. Sigh. I had been fooled. I am the girl who cried labor. Strike 1. 

In the meantime, here's a list of things I am looking forward to POST delivery:

• Being able to bend over and breathe at the same time
• Having a lap for Isaiah to sit on
• Getting out of bed/out of a chair/off the ground without having to plan an exit strategy
• Sleeping on my back and belly again
• Sleeping without hip pain
• The ability to take a deep breath without having a baby shoved up into my diaphragm
• Having the ability to outrun Isaiah, my 1-year-old track star
• Having an appetite again
• Fewer trips to the restroom
• Walking up a flight of stairs without losing my breath
• Being able to fit through tight spaces 
• Drinking a Cherry Coke without guilt
• Jimmy John's Beach Club
• NO.MORE.HEART BURN!!!
• Oh yes and of course I can't wait to hold our twins on the outside. For that matter, I can't for OTHER people to hold them too. I'm ready to share :)

The Good and the Grief

I guess I'm feeling bloggy lately- 2 posts in 1 week! Shoo!

On Tuesday I had a dr's appt to check in our twins. The appt went well- my blood pressure is great, the baby's heart rates are perfect, everything looks as it should. Thank you LORD! After my check up, I had an appointment for my first non-stress test, which is a chance for the doctors to monitor the babies heart rates for a longer stretch of time to make sure no one is in distress. But as I was leaving the clinic, the edge of my flip flop caught the edge of an uneven paving stone and down I went. Luckily I caught my fall on my hands and knees, my belly didn't take any of the impact. But 2 doctors saw me fall and tattled on me reported the incident like any good doctor would. They helped me up and looked me over. One doctor asked my name and said I needed to go to triage to make sure the babies were ok. I told him that I was headed to the perinatal center for a non-stress test anyway so he said he'd call ahead and let them know I had taken a tumble (thus the tattling.) I really felt fine, other than a little shaken up and scared of what could have happened if I hadn't caught my fall.

Anyway, I got to the perinatal center and checked in for my non-stress test, except something had gotten mixed up at the scheduling center and they had me scheduled for an ultra sound, not a non-stress test. Sigh. OK, I guess you can show me my babies. Such a sacrifice ;) It was wonderful to see them on screen, kicking each other and squirming away. Especially after the drama of the fall, I was so relieved to see that they were completely normal. I also got great news- McKenna weighs 4.9 lbs and Micaiah weighs 5.5 lbs. WOOHOO! This was SUPER encouraging to hear as the more they weigh, the healthier they will be when they are delivered! However, discouraging was the news that McKenna (aka Baby A), who WAS head down is now breech. And the hospital won't allow a vaginal delivery if Baby A is not head down. So it is back to the Spinning Babies exercises for me. (Click here to learn all about Spinning Babies.)

After I was finished with the ultrasound, the staff then sent me over to triage for my non-stress test. If I had known what awaited me, I think I would have just gone home. I thought I was going in for the traditional non-stress test, like I went through just before I had Isaiah. The whole thing takes maybe an hour, they strap a heart rate monitor to your belly and you get to sit and relax the whole time. Triage, however, is where ladies go when they are in (or think they are in) labor. The nursing staff checks you out to make sure you are truly in labor, asks you a bunch of questions, and then move you to a labor and delivery room. But because the staff had been alerted that I had taken a little spill, I had to stay for a FOUR HOUR stress test. I was fully admitted to the hospital- I'm talking ID bracelet, hospital gown, tiny little room in triage all to myself, the whole nine yards. And on top of all of that, I was by myself, which makes hospitals that much more scary. The nurse who took care of me was wonderful, even though the babies would not cooperate in helping her find both heart beats. Eventually she found them and I settled in for the long haul. Eventually Daniel and even my dad showed up and that provided MUCH comfort, but as I lay there listening to the sound of thundering hooves that are unborn babies heart beats I couldn't help but think of another little baby whose heart beat I never got to hear.

I would have been 40 weeks pregnant with Reuben, our would-have-been second child, on Tuesday May 27th. It's odd to think how different things would be if I hadn't miscarried. There would be no talk of twins, no little girl clothes in the laundry, no triple stroller, only one crib, one infant car seat, one swing. We'd be prepping for another little boy and teaching Isaiah to say "Reuben." And I cry as I type this, mourning the life of a little boy I won't meet until Jesus introduces us. I miss the chance to have been his mommy on earth, to deliver him, and hold him, and kiss his little head. And maybe I'm being ungrateful as I know of many women who don't even have one baby to hold and call their own, but the grief of miscarriage does not discriminate. So today I again mourn the loss of my second child and anticipate the day I get to kiss his sweet face.

Thankfully, all is well with our twins. We all passed the non-stress test with flying colors. They even discharged me after only 2 hours on the monitor instead of the traditional 4. I only had one contraction the entire time, when I rolled from my right side to my left. Everyone is gonna be just fine. I've got 6 more weeks before these babes should make their appearance and when they do, they will be so loved on and cuddled and covered in kisses! I thank God for the chance to be their mommy and I'm grateful that God is always good and He is always faithful. He can be nothing but. Even when it doesn't feel like He is being good or faithful to me, He can be nothing but.

"I promise this very day that I will repay two blessings for each of your troubles."
Zechariah 9:12

Obedience Training

Have you ever seen a child try to make their parent obey them? You know the scene- maybe it's in the middle of the grocery store, maybe on the swings at the park, but always someplace public with the maximum possible embarrassment for the parents. You might hear the parent say something like "Please don't kick your sister" or "you need to stop when I say stop" or "you need to listen and obey." A few minutes pass, the child goes about their play until an opportunity presents itself. Then the child might say something like "Mommy, come push me on the swing! You need to listen and obey!" It's endearing and annoying all at the same time. But the idea of the child making the parent obey seems silly. I might even go so far as to say it seems futile. The times when I have actually witnessed a parent obey their child, it just never ends well. Maybe there's a short term pay off but the parents really havn't done themselves any favors.

We all know the tale. So what's my point? My point is two fold.

The first fold goes like this. Daniel & I have been working extra diligently to help teach Isaiah about obedience. With me being pregnant with twins, I am not as fast as Isaiah and cannot chase him well. I need him to learn what "STOP" means and do so when I yell the command. I often find myself thinking "why won't you just obey me?!" Obedience training a 1 year old is just not an easy job.

The second fold goes like this. Ever since Daniel & I learned we were expecting twins I have been cleaning out our 3rd bedroom for their nursery. The room that they will soon occupy was once our office/guest bedroom/library/catchall room. There was A LOT of stuff in that room that suddenly needed a new home. So, slowly but surely I have been cleaning out the room, clearing out the junk, and setting up baby stuff. This has led to all-house sweep and thus piles upon piles of Read possessions, prime for a yard sale! The date was set for Saturday May 17. The weeks leading up to May 17, I priced and organized and scavenged. I made signs, I advertised, I researched the pricier items to make sure I asked a fair price. In short, I was really prepared! We even decided to partner with the Raakes for a 2 family yard sale. The Raakes live in a primo yard sale location + they have a garage. The Friday beforehand, we three Reads headed over to set up our stuff and get organized. Saturday morning, earlier than my body would have liked, I went over to finish set up and settle in to sell, sell, sell. The day dawned bright and clear if not a bit chilly, everything looked good. (I wanted to have the Target of yard sales so I made cute "department" signs, had fun music playing, hung paper chain decorations- things were looking good!) Things were starting to sell!

And about 2 hours into our sale, the first round of rain came through. UGH. We scurried to bring tables into the garage and cover up what wouldn't fit. But the storm passed fairly quickly and the sun came back out. We dragged the tables back out, dried off what needed it and went about our sale.

And then the second round of rain came through. UUUUUUGGGGGHHH. The boys were inside eating lunch so Lauren & I covered up what we could and decided the other table would be mostly fine if things got a little wet. The storm lasted longer than I liked but it did eventually end. This time we checked the radar. Looked like things were going to clear for the rest of the day-HOORAY! Off came the tarps and we again dried what we could.

And then the third round of rain come through. So as Lauren & I sat in the garage, lamenting the cold day and the unpredictable weather, I found myself angrily talking to God "Why can't you make this rain stop, Lord? Why aren't you bringing more people to our sale? I did everything I could to get the word out. Why won't you bless this effort? Why can't you just obey me?"

It is a wonder and a miracle I was not hit with lightning then and there.

Thank God for grace! No sooner did the thought occur to me did I begin repenting for my misguided, willful thought. And as I reflected on this kairos moment (a kairos moment is when the Holy Spirit makes you aware of spiritual teaching moment, according to this book) I realized that obedience training is something we never really outgrow. Wether you're a 1 year old learning to obey your very pregnant, nearly-waddling mother as she yells "STOP" before you run into the street or a 15 year old learning to make good decisions based on the training your parents have tried their best to give you your whole young life or a 30 year old still learning that God is not a genie in a bottle or an always-blessing-lottery-ticket.

Nobody really likes the immediate act of obedience, I think. It nearly always comes down to listening to someone else's counsel and believing that their request is better than your own will. But the consequence of obedience is always positive. (Please note I'm solely writing in terms of situations where obedience is happening within healthy, loving relationships.) So when Daniel & I teach Isaiah how to be obedient, it's not because we're mean parents who finally have someone to boss around. And when God teaches me obedience, it's not because He's some puppet master forcing me to carry out His evil plan. No. It's to teach me a better way, to lead me closer in step with Him, to guide me toward holiness. I hope I never outgrow my awareness for the need to be obedient to God. I hope I'm never so willful and self-centered I can't listen when God tells me to "STOP" before I run into the street, ya know?

The mommy sacrifice

I have always wanted to be a mom. Of course, most little girls play house and carry baby dolls and if asked, would say that they want to be a mom someday. It's just something I've always wanted to be. I think that desire is normal for most girls. But what's funny is I don't remember ever playing house and actually thinking about what being a mom would require. I CERTAINLY don't remember thinking that being a mom would be so sacrificial and require so much dying-to-self. I suppose I'm realizing how grateful I am that my own mom never laid on a guilt trip or used manipulation to remind me how much she was giving up just by being my mom.

Today I had to be a sacrificial mom.

This morning at church, I was randomly given tickets to today's Reds game (thanks Dale & Jenny!) Excitedly, I scanned the church to find Daniel and share the good news. The service was about to start so I knew I didn't have much time. Finding him near the front, I asked him if there was anything pressing he needed to take care of right after church. He said no and I flashed him the tickets. A smile cracked his face and I knew this just made his day. After the worship set, we made plans for Isaiah & I to head home so Zay could nap. Daniel would meet up with us right after second service and we'd head to the game. We figured we could wake Zay from his nap a little early but he would be OK. I load Zay in his car seat, head home, feed him lunch and put him down for a nap. After listening to him chat and sing to himself for about 20 minutes he finally fell asleep. I glanced at the clock- 12:10. Daniel had said he'd try to be home by 12:30 and then we'd leave. That meant Zay would get a 20 minute nap. I'm sorry but you just don't wake a 1 year old up from a 20 minute nap and expect him to be fully refreshed and ready to go sit still at a baseball game for 3 hours. Sigh. I called Daniel. We agreed that yes, Isaiah should get to nap for longer than 20 minutes. I told Daniel he should find someone else to take to the game. sigh.

Now I realize that in a blog post about motherly sacrifice this example is small in comparison. I know there are mothers sacrificing far more significant and life giving things in order to give their children the best life possible. Please don't think me shallow for my example. Today this sacrifice feels hard to me. Daniel & I have always enjoyed going to Reds games, especially when the tickets are free :) I love seeing him get so excited about a game and a team he loves. I love getting to sit next to him and hear him talk about each player's stats. I learn something new at nearly every game we watch. I'm sacrificing this bonding time with my husband so that my son can get the rest and growth he needs.

I know I won't always have to make such sacrifices. I know that the sacrifices will change as my children grow and mature. But I also never realized how selfish I was until I became a mom. It is as though my eyes have suddenly been opened to all of these (now) painfully, glaringly obvious selfish crevices littered all throughout my heart. And I tell you it is not fun to have light thrown onto those ugly crevices. Because as soon as the light exposes the selfishness, I have to make an instant decision wether to put my own desire aside and serve my family's needs or choose myself and deal with the consequence. I guess what I'm saying is I don't have the luxury of time to draw the selfishness out of myself. I have to deal with it daily, as soon as it rears its ugly head and it can be exhausting!

There is one consolation to this sad, sacrificial mommy moment. Daniel is currently enjoying the game with his dad. If there is any other person in the world I would give up a Reds tickets for, it is my father-in-law. Daniel & Ken share many love languages, they are so alike. But baseball has been a common bond for them since the beginning of Daniel's life.

It's 1:45pm and Isaiah is just now chatting to himself as he wakes up from his nap. The game started 30 minutes ago. At least I have MLB TV & Marty Brennaman to keep me company.

Pregnancy Cravings Crisis

There are many funny things that happen during pregnancy- Weird digestive issues. Odd shapes protruding from your mid-section. Perfect strangers asking you very personal questions and seriously invading your personal space. But I find pregnancy cravings to be equally as odd. When I am not pregnant, I do everything I can to quiet my unhealthy cravings. I try to distract myself with a better choice or just ignore the craving altogether. ("I am in charge!" I say. "I will not succumb!")

And then I get pregnant. All sense of self control and self denial literally FLY out my door. Fudgsicle for lunch- SURE! Veggies and dip for a post lunch snack? At least it's somewhat healthy, I rationalize. Chipotle for dinner? Only if Daniel agrees. (Please Lord, let Daniel agree...) It's as if I feel entitled to the craving because... I'm pregnant! with twins! It's winter! The twins need it (this one works well on Daniel ;)

Is it because our culture expects pregnant women to have cravings that I feel such a lack of control? Is it because people are inclined to say: "Go ahead, you're eating for 2 now." (or in my case 3!) And then, as if to add insult to injury, the things I crave the most are the things pregnant women aren't really supposed to have. For example, a California sub from Jimmy John's sounds DELISH. But I'm not supposed to have lunch meat. And I'd love to wash that sub down with an icy cold Cherry Coke. Except the caffeine is bad for the babies and the Coke is bad for all of us. And then I make chocolate chip cookies for small group but sampling the raw cookie dough is a no-no so I shouldn't risk it.

And I'm not alone in my cravings crisis either. I have had several mama's share some pretty hysterical cravings stories from crying over chicken salad (Hi Lauren!) to refusing to eat a banana split (Hi Christie!)

But then there's a flip side to this coin: food aversions. Currently, I cannot BEAR the thought of eating leftovers. I will make something really tasty for dinner one night and the next day the mere thought of heating up the leftovers makes me lose my appetite. More times than not I have chosen to skip the meal than eat the leftovers. WHY?! I am normally fine with leftovers, especially if it's something that I enjoyed the first time! Am I growing children who will also hate leftovers?

Cravings Count

While pregnant with Isaiah I craved apples & peanut butter, watermelon, chocolate milkshakes from UDF, guacamole.

While pregnant with the twins, I have craved/am currently craving veggies & dip, Chipotle burritos, the ever classic pickles (by themselves though), Jimmy Johns, LaRosa's.

Celebration Sadness

Have you ever heard of seasonal depression? As far as I understand, it's a feeling of sadness when seasons change, or more specifically when winter hits and the days are short and cold and dark and the promise of spring seems so far away. Well I'm fairly certain I don't have seasonal depression but I DO think I suffer from celebration sadness. After every major celebration- typically the day after- I just feel kinda down and sad that the party is over and all the planning and anticipation has passed.

Example 1: I remember when I was maybe 9 or 10 and I felt so sad the day after my birthday, I crawled in bed with my mom and just cried. I had had a WONDERFUL birthday sleepover but then it came time for all my friends to go home and all the presents were open and the celebrating was done and I just felt sad that my special day had come and gone.

Example 2: After my wedding, the next day was filled with traveling and starting our honeymoon- which was fantastic and so much fun! I thought I had eluded the celebration sadness. Nope, just prolonged it. The day after we got back from the Caribbean, Daniel had to jump right into his Master's program at UK and I was left in our little apartment in Georgetown, KY with nothing to do but unpack. I cried. And then I called my mom and cried some more.

Example 3: Usually after all the Christmas celebrating is finished and we've rung in the New Year, I'm ready to clean up and take down the decorations. I have found that this is the best way to do it anyway. When I'm ready for the celebration to be over, or when I'm ready to get home from your vacation, or when I'm ready for life to just get back to normal- this is ideal. It's when I don't feel ready that the sadness kicks in. And this year, I feel a little melancholy. I feel like I didn't linger long enough this Christmas. I didn't drink in the lights and the glow like I usually do. I missed out on some of my favorite traditions because I forgot to do them or because I didn't carve out the time like I have in Christmas' past. I feel like I zoned out through most of December. And I don't think it's because we got too busy or too wrapped up in gifts or all the other excuses people have for this sort of thing. I think it's because my world has been spinning wildly off it's axis since Friday December 13.

Ever since the ultrasound tech delivered the news of twins, the babies are never far from my thoughts. And not necessarily in a sweet, maternal sort of way. More in a "oh my gosh, what are we gonna do?" kinda way. We have had SO MANY people step up and offer every possible kind of help imaginable, from playdates for Isaiah to people offering to prepare meals to my mother-in-love (this phrase fits us better than the "in-law" part of the phrase) buying me 2 bags stuffed full of maternity clothes. So much sweet, kind, gracious, servant hearted help, but at the end of the day it is Daniel & I who have to go through this. I need to make peace with this and accept my reality. The best part of Christmas coming to an end is the promise of next Christmas and the chance to learn a lesson from this year's celebration. Well, the best part of being pregnant with twins is the promise that God will walk with us every step of the way. That's what I have to cling to, that's the only kind of help that will soothe my trembling, freaking out soul. And I feel so ungrateful! I have so many friends who would LOVE to be pregnant with twins right now. Who am I to complain or be so thankless? Yet the light at the end of this tunnel stays dark.

Do you feel like you didn't linger long enough this Christmas?

Forgive me as I fumble through the early days of this pregnancy and as I honestly share my journey with the world. Thanks for being friends who listen :)