Losing control, or dying to yourself

I'm slowly going out of my mind. Literally. Sleep has been pretty scarce the last week, and it's taking a toll on my body/mind. The hard part is, the baby still hasn't arrived so it's not as though I'll be getting a lot of sleep with her around anyways.

And speaking of her... God has a funny way of stopping me in my tracks.

For several weeks, no make that a couple of months, this fear that my daughter is actually going to come out a son has been lurking in my mind. Like normal, I've learned to suppress my thoughts/feelings on this issue until they hit me upside my head. Last night I had a long conversation with one of my dearest friends from back home, Rabeea. Her sister just had a baby, whom everyone thought was a girl (confirmed by two ultrasounds) and turned out to be a boy. During that conversation I realized I need to get some things right before the Lord.

I am not entitled to a daughter. I am not entitled to a son. Frankly, nowhere in the Bible does it say I am entitled to anything other than being a child of God. And really, we could stop right there and life would be complete, but our Father wants to bless. And so He has. I'm pregnant. Becoming pregnant was a fervent prayer of mine for over a year. And here I am, finishing up what has been a wonderful pregnancy.

Then last night I fully realized I've been obsessing over having a daughter ever since I found out she was a she (I know I would have done the same if I was told from the get go it was a he). People have made comments like "Well, you never know, it could be a boy" and I found myself getting angry with them. I took it as a personal attack and found myself being upset and defensive each time someone dared to second guess our ultrasound.

But the Lord knows that we will break. He knows that we will fall and come crawling back to Him. And because He is a good and loving God, because He has compassion, He holds us, dusts us off and never complains that it's taken us far longer than it should to humble ourselves.

And that is what I am doing. I was up for most of the night crying and praying. I want nothing more than to have a daughter. I want it because I have everything I need for a girl. I have formed a bond with what I know to be my daughter. I call her by name, speak prayers of blessing over her, and have spent much time just in thought over how God will use her in her life. But, really, what if I have a boy? What if through all this time, through my delivery, my doctor says, "It's a boy!" how will I be? Will I rejoice? Or will I question God? Will I wonder why He has provided everything for a girl just to give us a boy? Or will I trust that just as He provided once, He will provide again?

It is my desire to trust the Lord with all my heart and all my understanding. But I'll be honest, I don't. I live in fear. I live in doubt. But, last night God met me where I am and I realized that I don't need to come to Him in completeness, I need to come to Him broken. He wants me to step out in faith amid doubt and to surrender even when I feel like I can't. He wants me to surrender my daughter. And so I did. It was hard, harder it seems than when I surrendered getting pregnant to Him. I've spent too much time believing and trusting in the wrong things. It hurts to have to die to your flesh and your desires. And I haven't fully. I'm still praying that if it's God's will everything will hold true and we will deliver a health baby girl. But God's grace is good, and even in the last 18 hours I've come to more fully trust that He is in control and I am not. That He knows best and I do not. Just like with my miscarriage, His thoughts and ways are higher than mine, and while I didn't understand why He allowed what He did, He knew. And it was, and still is, simply my responsibility to trust Him and continue to follow after Him.

So, I rejoice! And if The Windhams end up with a son instead of a daughter, you can count on him being loved beyond what my heart can even comprehend right now.

Eight days and counting

I've got eight days until my "due date". I use that term very loosely for several reasons.

1) I've been given three due dates. And today was actually one of them. The official date is the 23rd, but I'm liking today more than that one.

2) Just because you're due on a date doesn't mean the baby is coming. It's not like a wedding. I mean you can still count down, but it's not gonna happen just because Google says you have eight days left.

Anyways, I've come to the point that I'm ready to move on to the next stage. I've really enjoyed this last week of "freedom", but I'm thinking I'd rather see my little girl now. We had an appointment today and actually prayed in the waiting room that we would go into labor this weekend. Now, it's God's will and all when she arrives, but Jonathan and I would both be thrilled if this weekend lined up with His will. So yeah, maybe this is a prayer request via Blogger... prayer for a healthy, safe delivery and that it could come this weekend.

Either I'm pregnant or old...

Last night Jonathan and I went to dinner with two of my co-workers. We had a really great time and tried out the Texas Roadhouse that just came into town. Nothing like a steak... Matt E jokes with me that our daughter is going to come out demanding steak and potatoes. I really wouldn't be surprised if she did.

Anyways, moving on. We meet up for dinner then went to see a nearly 3 hour movie. By the last 45 minutes my back was hurting so bad I figured I was either in labor or my daughter was making me pay for sitting for almost five hours total.

I went home and pulled out the heating pad and fell asleep sitting almost upright. This morning I woke up and thought "Wow Sarah, the only people you know who sleep upright with heating pads are people over the age of 75."

And so, I've decided that pregnancy is one of God's ways to prepare women for old age. We can't hold our bladder, our backs hurt, our hips hurt, we enjoy going to bed before the sun goes down, we walk about 3 times slower than anyone else and we get a little cranky if not properly feed.