A Little, Tiny Announcement

Today is one of those days where I know God is extravagantly kind because my life is proof. Today is my birthday – I turn 32. And today, I am 12 weeks pregnant with our second, long-awaited child.

The details of how almost impossible this particular pregnancy seemed to me are a little too graphic, so I will skip it. If you remember though, I wrote about the disappointment of negative tests here, and it wasn’t long after that post that we got pregnant. I was nearly certain we couldn’t get pregnant when we did so the news shocked Josh and I when we saw the two red lines.

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A few weeks ago, my friend, the extraordinary image-capturer, Emma Wheatley of RoseWheat Photography, took us out into a little field of Kansas sunflowers to snap a few pictures of our happy news. I’ve been wanting to share them with you, but I made myself wait until my birthday when the little one would be 12 weeks. It was the best birthday gift I could think of. Here are a few of my favorites from our shoot with Emma, including a little ultrasound of the bean, at this time only 7 weeks.

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I don’t know all the reasons why we’ve had to wait and fight for both of our children, but I know God is with us through it all, and he has been so impeccable with his timing. John will be three and a half when this baby comes, and in many ways, I’m happy he’s had this time to be the beloved only child. And he will be more ready to be a big brother and help, rather then getting jealous. Although I’m sure he will have his days. He’s already praying for baby with us at night. Those prayers have got to tickle God just as much as they do us.

Thank you for reading and sharing my joy. And thank you for supporting me in the disappointment and the waiting. I am so thankful for community out here, as well as my church family, married and birth families and my friends, who all lift me up. You all are a Godsend.

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The Brave want things

A friend and I were talking tonight, as my friends and I often do, about longings and desires, wants and needs. And what we do with the things we say we don’t want, or don’t need, but really, we do.

I find myself often enough drowning out genuine wants and needs simply for fear of not being able to obtain them, or perhaps the reality of having to ache while I wait. I’ve written on this a million times, but it’s so true. I just keep stuffing the longing, quieting it right up, just cause it hurts too much. 

My trepidation and sorry lack of courage are so disappointing. I fancy myself one of the brave poets, an intrepid world-travelers, or a missionary who will risk her entire life to bring a village to Jesus. I think of myself that way, and yet, I’m afraid to pray for a sick person. I spend my life on the mediocre for fear the great won’t come to me. Or that I will fail on my way to the great. Or some other suppressed reason, perhaps.

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[photo cred: poppyinibiza.blogspot.com]

I would like to get in trouble a little more often because I’m doing so many innovative things, pushing boundaries for the sake of good, raising eyebrows, but believing so deeply in something true. 

I come up with reasons why now is just not the right time to be a successful writer, or to take a trip, or be set on fire for God. I tell myself we can’t possibly afford another child. I’m so tired as it is. 

I sigh at nights because this is still not the life I want to live, and yet I’m afraid to ask, afraid to long, afraid to yearn.

Afraid to get my heart broken.

I’ve been brave some of the time. I was brave enough to pursue God completely and somewhere in there, my husband came to me. I was brave enough to cry and beg for a child, and then to surrender the desire, and then I got that dream too.

But I’m here again with ambiguous desires, living in this floating, non-committal state where I refuse to give my all to something. To want it so badly, but to let myself trust God at the same time. To insist that he is good, that he loves me, and that he’s not going anywhere, despite what my circumstances say. 

One of my greatest wrestlings with Hope is immortalized in this prose piece I wrote in the first few months of trying to get pregnant last time. My heart hurt so early on. But as I wrote this, I gave up a bit of my suspicion toward Hope and found it might actually be worth it to give her some of my time. 

You can read this excerpt here below. Then visit The Burnside Writer’s Collective to read it in its entirety.

Hope, The Foolish Child

What shall I do with Hope, this child I can’t stop feeding?
I want to kill her, but she says the sweetest things.
She knows my desire,
Keeps telling me it’s coming, it’s coming.
I start to think she might be a liar;
And just when I’m about to stop standing there like a fool,
Hand over my eyes,
Staring into that thin horizon line,
Just then she points, shouts,
“Here It comes!”
I squint into the light and sure enough,
Here comes my Longing.
I reach over to hug Hope, that bouncing child.
But she’s gone,
Gone to lay claim to a new desire.

Read the rest here