Jesus sent me flowers today

::creeeeaaaaakkkkk::
If virtual blogging made a noise, that would be the sound of me opening my blog to write again after 7 months of silence. Having babies will do that to you, I guess. It's also hard to find the inspiration to write when your day is filled with changing poopy diapers and endless hours of playing choo-choos. Nevertheless, that is not the point of today's blog!

Let's talk about last week. One week ago today we were in the midst of a snow storm. Finally we were getting the snow that we had mostly missed out on this winter! I truly love snow. I love it's beauty and it's color, pure white and sparkling. I love playing in it and then drinking hot chocolate to warm up after. I love when school gets cancelled and people hunker down indoors. I love everything about it! The thing is though, I love a snow day here and there. I do not love a snow week. Based on what I was seeing on Facebook, I was not the only mom in this predicament. After a week indoors, everyone's going a little bonkers. The snow has lost its luster and most people are ready for their normal routine. Yet for some unexplained reason, last week's snow sent me into a weirdly deep funk. We already spend a good chunk of our time cooped up. With a 2 yr old and 8 month old twins, it's hard to get out on a regular basis. When we do get out of the house, it has to be carefully orchestrated so when the activities you've already figured out all get cancelled... well let's just say that didn't put me in a great place emotionally. All of our regularly scheduled events got cancelled last week.
Every. single. one.
On top of this, as most of you know, people with grown up jobs don't get snow days, meaning Daniel still had to work. It was a looong week being cooped up inside with little people needing to be entertained.

Finally it was Saturday! True, it snowed again Friday night but Saturday is a fun day! Daniel doesn't have to work! We could play together as a family! I'd have someone else to help with the monotony that is playing choo-choos all. the. live. long. day. (In case you hadn't picked up on this, Isaiah really loves playing choo-choos with me. 'Cause I'm awesome at it. Gotta be good at something, right?!) So when Daniel asked if he could meet up with a friend to talk church-stuff, I kinda lost it. And by lost it I mean I went upstairs and cried to myself. And as I sat up there crying I realized I couldn't explain why I was crying. Daniel hadn't done anything wrong. I hadn't verbally expressed my plans for us to all stay home and have a "Hallmark channel" snow day. And he was asking if he could plan this meeting, not telling me he was already going to do it. I also hadn't shared with him just how trying the week had been. So as I sat there crying, the word I kept coming back to was lonely. I was crying because I felt lonely. Yet that didn't make sense. I'm surrounded by little people all day long. Daniel had even been home more than usual due to the snow. Feeling lonely just didn't make sense.

Unless you're lonely for Jesus.

Maybe you'll be surprised to read this but it's hard to find time to be with Jesus. Doesn't matter who you are, what you do, how old you are, or what your excuses are- It's hard to find time to be with Jesus. And when you get used to other things filling that hole, it's easy to ignore the fact that you haven't spent much quality time with Jesus. So when a giant snow storm took away all my other hole-fillers I was left feeling sad and lonely.

I wish I could say that I had this realization on Saturday morning while I was upstairs crying and I came back downstairs refreshed, recharged, and ready to rationally explain to Daniel that I was hoping for family time that day. But that would not be true. I came back downstairs, hoping that Daniel would notice I had been crying, read my mind, and lovingly wipe away all traces of my loneliness. That also would not be true. Daniel is not a mind reader (though I sure wish he would learn that skill. It would things so much easier for me ;) ) He was carrying on with his Saturday, playing with a very happy Isaiah. I finally worked up the courage to bring up the topic of his meeting and cried my way through our conversation. (Fun fact about me- I nearly always cry when having a difficult conversation with Daniel. I hate that I can't get through a conflict without crying but I can't control it.) Gratefully I married a patient man and I was able to speak my mind through the tears. He changed his meeting to Sunday. Problem solved, right? Nope, I still felt lonely.

Saturday night Daniel worked on his thesis while I watched a movie. Feeling lonely and pitiful, wanting desperately to blame the loneliness on Daniel but could find no evidence that this was his fault. Yet I could think of no other reason why I should feel this way.

Sunday morning I went through the motions of going to church but still felt disconnected. Knowing Daniel had meetings all afternoon, I made plans to spend the day with my parents. I couldn't bear the thought of spending ANOTHER day shut up in the house with no other adult around to help play choo-choos.

Except, I'm ashamed to admit, there's more to it than that. See, I couldn't shake the sense of loneliness. Even the word itself was playing over and over like a skipping CD, taunting me and reaffirming the loneliness. And I still wanted to blame Daniel for it. I was cold toward him. Not mean or rude, just cold. I had been all weekend. I was hurt so I wanted him to hurt. [I am literally realizing this as I type it out. Ugh. I am so ashamed of myself.] I made the plans with my parents then I decided I wouldn't tell Daniel in person. I'd leave a note in the kitchen so he'd come home to an empty house, expecting us to be there waiting for him, only to find out that we had gone on to have a great day without him! "Yes- then he'll be lonely just like me!!" I thought. And won't that solve all the problems...

So as soon as the service was finished, I turned to go collect the kids from Sunday school but was met with a very dear lady who said I looked like I could use a hug. And as she hugged me, tears stung my eyes. Her hug chipped away at my loneliness and a new word sprung to mind. Her hug broke through the enemy's accusation that I was lonely. She reminded me that I'm loved. Loved. Then two rows behind her, I was met by another dear lady who spoke of God's love for me. We talked about the sermon, and I said I often wonder if I'm doing enough to make God proud. She said sometimes God calls us to rest in His presence, that being with Him is what makes Him proud. Then we both started crying. And that was when the realization struck. I am lonely for Jesus. And this is not a loneliness that Daniel or our kids or my parents or any other human can fix. I was distracting myself from my loneliness and it wasn't until the snow took away my distractions that I felt the hole of loneliness. The cure is to spend time with Jesus.

Today is Monday. I've spent the day marinating in the fact that I am loved. I am loved by the King of everything. I woke up feeling loved. I changed diapers and dressed babies, made the bed, and got dressed all the while thinking that I am loved by Jesus Christ. Jesus has been lavishing His love on me today. He orchestrated 2 amazing things today. First, when cleaning up from breakfast I found a love letter from Daniel, stashed among the cereal boxes. When Daniel tells me of his love by taking the time to write it down, well let's just say my heart soars. Daniel is God's gift to me, he is an Ephesians 5:25 husband. Second, someone anonymously sent me the most beautiful flower arrangement today! I actually had a florist come knock on my door! There was a card with the flowers but no name, only Psalm 13:5-6 & Romans 8:38-39 "Nothing will be able to separate us from the love of God." Jesus sent me flowers today. He loves me ❤ ❤ ❤

Whomever you are, reading this blog, whether you know Him or not, whether you choose to acknowledge His existence or not, whether you care or not, YOU too are loved by Jesus Christ. Don't let the enemy tell you otherwise.     

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