Windham, Party of 4

We are adding one more member to our family.

And no, I'm not pregnant.

My brother, Fletcher, has moved in with us. He came up on Tuesday with my mom and Dave, and starts school this week. It's going to be a fun adventure, not just for Fletch, but for Jonathan and I as well. I'm looking forward to see what God has in plan for us all and really thrilled that Julia gets to be around her Uncle Fletch.

Now, in other news.... Julia is rolling over! She just rolls one way (when on her belly) and she's only done it a few times, but we're getting there. And when she's on her back, she rolls over on her side (especially at night). It's crazy, because it seems like it all just kinda happened over night. Before you know it, she'll be walking and talking.

Today is a day that will go down in history....

... I am back in my pre-baby jeans!

To swaddle or not to swaddle, that is the question

I'm sure most everyone who has gotten to see Julia either right before or after bedtime has seen her in her baby burrito (tightly wrapped blankets that turn any baby into a cute little burrito). For the last 3 months the baby burrito has been a true blessing. She sleeps so soundly and it helped a great deal when her tummy was hurting so much. However, the burrito is turning sour.

Julia, being too smart for her own good, has picked up on what our bedtime/naptime rituals are, and has taken to fighting us when we swaddle her. She'll arch her back, kick, cry, wiggle, anything just to keep from being swaddled. Only thing is, she can't sleep without it. Hmmm... I see a problem here. She has even started doing acrobats in her sleep and so she wakes up completely unswaddled after a few hours (and on the opposite side of the crib), thus going from a 6-7 hours a night sleeper, to 4-5 hours. It seems like every time I go into her room at night now her little left hand and arm are waving free. I secretly think she thinks it's a game: Let's see how long it takes me to get out of this one. She's a little Houdini.

Last week during nap time I would lay her down loosely swaddled or completely unswaddled as to wean her off. Yeah, that wasn't pleasant. She'd sleep for just a few minutes, startle herself, wake up, not fall back to sleep, cry, then be completely swaddled, just to sleep soundly for an hour, then wake herself up because she was able to free her left hand. Finally, by the end of the week I gave up and went back to a full swaddle.

Until today. This morning I vowed to try it all again, this time only doing it once a day (so as to not totally stress myself out - or her) and to leave her left arm free while doing a tight swaddle on her right arm and legs. Do you know what? That girl has been asleep for the last hour and a half. Seriously, she has not even made a peep. What is that?? See, here again proves my theory that she's playing games with us and that you can never, ever predict a baby. But I can see right through her cute little eyes and sweet little smile and I know, I know what's going on. She's going to spend the whole week being a perfect angel, sleeping one arm unswaddled, and then BHAM! she'll change it all up next week. I'm on to you Julia Mabel....

Alas, we'll see what happens. I'd really like to get her to a point that she can sleep with out being a burrito, especially as she gets bigger and longer. But part of me is a little sad, because she's a cutie in that burrito. That's for sure.

***Random hope/desire/prayer/dream/etc*** Dude, I really think Julia might be a lefty like me! I mean, she goes to town with her left hand like nobodies business. So, here's to having my daughter take after me in some way (seeing as she looks just like her daddy!).

This is an old picture, but you get the idea of the baby burrito in all its silly cuteness.

This is why I love Jonathan

This morning I told Jonathan we were running low on diapers, but that we were expecting to get some in the mail (present from my aunt) today. His response: "Well, sweetie, you just let me know if we need any. And I can pick some up, Raising Arizona style".

***Disclaimer*** There is some bad language in the following video.

Just when I figure it all out

Julia changes it up on me. And then changes it up again. What's with that?

Last week Julia got into this habit of only taking 30 minute naps. Well, truthfully, she was doing that before last week, but last week was a really rough week. In previous times she'd take a 30 minute nap, then sleep really well the next day or something. But not last week. Last week she was a big girl. Also, I should add that she decided that while she didn't want to nap, she also didn't want to sleep more than 3 hours a stretch at night. So we were up a lot. And she was cranky. A lot.

This week, well this week is completely different. As of this past weekend we've begun letting Julia "cry it out", since she's becoming really depended on us to put her to sleep (ex, we have to rock/bounce/swing her until she's asleep, and if all the planets are aligned just right, maybe, just maybe she won't wake up when we put her down). We're probably softies in this area (at least I know I am), and really don't let her cry alone for that long, especially if the cry is an upset cry and not a tired cry (which, yeah for me, I've finally learned what her different cries are... most of the time!). It's been challenging, but yesterday was a lot better, and she went to sleep fairly fast for her naps, and when the 30 minute mark came, I could quickly get her to fall back asleep.

Anyways, this past Sunday night, I put Julia to bed around 9:15. What to know what time she woke up? 4:15. 7 hours. Yes, 7 hours, that girl slept. Just to be followed the next night by waking up screaming, and then the next night with 7 1/2 hours. Not to mention that she's been taking at least 2 2-hour naps during the day.

I can't figure this girl out! I mean, she's more confusing then me, which Jonathan could tell you is an amazing feat! One day she'll be happy all day, no complaints, the next day she'll be crappy all day... hmmm, sounds like her mama. However, I do think that the reason for the newest sleep habit is because she's hit a growth spurt (at least that's what Google says). Seeing as last week she stepped up her feedings and now this week it seems all she does is eat and sleep with very little play time.

So, yeah, just when I get use to the constant feeding, the middle of the night waking, she decides she's sleepy. And when I get use to that, she's moved on to the next phase. And they say women are fickle. I say, if we're fickle, it's only because we learned it from our babies.

Pneumonia, shots and sounds from the diaper

Last week I took Julia to the doctor. She had gotten sick over the weekend and by Monday had a pretty bad cough. The doctor said she had bronchitis, sent us home with some medicines and said it should clear up soon. By Thursday we were back in the office, this time to hear that Julia had pneumonia. Is it just me, or is that a big illness for such a little girl? I have to say, it's pretty tough seeing your baby being sick. It's heart breaking, really. We spent the weekend in quarantine, and when I took her back yesterday, things seem to be on the up and up. They gave her her two month shots, which went surprisingly well.

Last night I made sort of a personal vow. A vow to lighten up and stop being so stinkin' proud. I'm a proud person, a stubborn person, and it can make for a really tough time of things. So, I need to really lighten up. Get off my high horse and realize that this world isn't perfect, I'm not perfect and I need to focus on the good things. With that being said, here are the "lighter" things about having a sick daughter.

1. The antibiotics Jules has been on cause gas. Let me tell you what, I have never, ever heard such loud noise come from such a small bottom. It sounds like several bombs going off. And then to see her face afterward.... priceless.

2. Did you know poop turns green when you take certain antibiotics? Well, it does. At least in an infant. Several times, to my surprise, Julia's diapers would come out green. A little shocking to say the least.

3. Is that a soldier I see? No, no, it's just Julia wear a gas mask. Actually, it was a nebulizer, but it reminded me of the gas masks from WWII. Now, if I can just teach her to army crawl.

4. One thing that makes me laugh more than anything else: When she's about to have a breakdown, she starts sticking out her bottom lip, makes this really mad/sad face and then lets it all go. I have to admit, it's pretty funny. It's almost as though she's throwing a tantrum, without the kicking... just the screaming.

They say it's your birthday!

Happy birthday Lincoln! I just want you to know how much I love you and how exciting it is to see you chasing after the Lord. You are an amazing brother and I am thrilled for you and what God has and is doing in your life.

You must have been a beautiful baby

Watch out Batman! She's coming back!

I cooked dinner two times this week!

And I don't mean just using the frozen meals we have, but actually cutting up meat and veggies and making something! Oh, and then I made cookies. From scratch!

Oh, oh, oh, and then, and then I brushed my teeth before bed (like I actually brushed my teeth for the first time of the day before 9 pm!).

But that's not all, I did laundry, vacuumed and took a shower this week! And what's even better, I remembered to put on deodorant!

Holy smokes, I'm on a roll! What next? Finding a cure for cancer? Saving the penguins from extinction? Joining the Peace Corps?

Man, I put Martha Stewart to shame.

Entitlement

I'm entitled to have good days aren't I? And when I have one good day, isn't the next day suppose to be just as good? It should never be worse, right? I have to be honest, this is something that I'm really struggling with and trying to wrap my mind around. When I have one really amazing day with Julia (she isn't very fussy, we get a lot done at the house, we can visit friends) I think I am entitled to ever day being that way. Like this week.

On Tuesday we had an amazing day. She napped when she was suppose to, we got to meet Jonathan for lunch, she wasn't very fussy and seemed to just be completely content all day. Wednesday was a whole different story. She cried if I held her, cried if I put her down, she barely napped and finally by the late afternoon I got her to fall asleep while I held her the whole time. Which means the house was a mess, I was a mess, dinner was the last thing from my mind. And I realize, Julia is my job. Not my house, or laundry, or dinner. But still. I should be able to do those things...

Well, on Wednesday night I spent some time with Shirley. I was talking to her about how I feel entitled to these things, and how I get pretty angry when I pray and God doesn't seem to respond to those prayers (ex: I'm exhausted and just want Julia to sleep. I pray and she only sleeps for 3 hours, or she wakes up 3-4 times). It seems like He would want me to rest, to feel good about the day ahead and not so run down and weak. Then Thursday morning Shirley sent me an email with these verses from 2 Corinthians 12:

"Three different times I begged the Lord to take it away. Each time he said, “My grace is all you need. My power works best in weakness.” So now I am glad to boast about my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ can work through me. That’s why I take pleasure in my weaknesses, and in the insults, hardships, persecutions, and troubles that I suffer for Christ. For when I am weak, then I am strong."

Wow, that hit me like a ton of bricks. Since Julia's birth I have been working on my own strength, my own power and I'm exhausted. So yesterday I prayed "God, I need time with you, but you're going to need to make my schedule clear." And while it wasn't "clear" in the sense that I accepted, He did give me time when Julia was relaxing in her bouncy seat. And again this morning. Yet, I realize that I can't wait for God to give me loads of time, because it won't ever happen, but He will give me time and it's up to me to use it effectively.

I surrender

I'm giving you my heart, and all that is within
I lay it all down for the sake of you, my King
I'm giving you me dreams, I'm laying down my rights
I'm giving up my heart for the promise of new life

And I surrender all to you, all to you
And I surrender all to you, Lord, all to you

I'm singing you this song, I'm waiting at the cross
And all the world holds dear, I count it all as loss
The sake of knowing you the glory of your name
To know that lasting joy in sharing in your pain

This song has been on repeat in my head for the last day. For the past two days Julia has been really upset. She's been gassy and overly needy. We've had to hold her while she sleeps, otherwise she wakes up completely freaked out. Yesterday she woke up at 6 am and didn't go to bed until 9 pm, having only slept for 2 hours (not consecutively, mind you) during the day. She was so sleepy, you could tell by just looking at her. But her tummy hurt so bad she couldn't rest. Finally she gave way and fell asleep with us in bed. After her normal middle of the night feeding, she fell back asleep, just to wake up in pain at 4:30 this morning. I rocked her, bounced her and walked her for two hours till Jonathan took over so I could sleep. You can hear her poor little tummy rumbling and she is in some pain for sure. I didn't want to believe it, but Julia is colicky. I'm not sure why it's been so hard for me to come to terms with it, but it has been. But after yesterday I really can't deny it.

So in the midst of her crying and not sleeping yesterday, this song came to me. I surrender. I surrender my life and my dreams to Christ. This is too hard to do alone, and I can't keep holding on to my pride, so I'm surrendering. I'm giving up, I'm letting go. Christ can have it all.

Maybe, just maybe... Part III

Maybe, just maybe there are times when I want to give up.

I'm making a New Year's resolution to be honest about the trials I face. So many times I can look the other way and act like everything in my life is a-okay when really I feel like I am drowning.

Frankly, breastfeeding sucks. Both literally and figuratively. I've never had more pain or frustration at something that is suppose to be "natural". Part of me thought that by now Julia and I would have figured this thing out. But we are far from it. It seems like she struggles at almost every feeding. She goes back and forth between understanding what she's doing to not having a clue. Top that off with the worst pain a woman can feel and really bottle feeding seems pretty appealing.

Honestly, the only thing keeping me going for breastfeeding at this point is knowing that this is the best thing I can do for Julia. And even then I'm not sure that's why I'm doing it. Maybe really I'm just afraid of being a bad mom. So I breastfeed. Yeah, that's really what it is. I am overwhelmed with fear. Fear that she isn't gaining weight properly, fear that she isn't getting enough food, fear that I don't understand her cries, fear that I am doing absolutely everything wrong. Fear that things will always be this hard and that my life will stay this way. Fear that I will not be able to show my daughter the love that she so badly needs and deserves. Fear that I am not living up to my role as a wife, or as a daughter of the Lord. Fear that I am going through a huge trial and am missing the whole message from God. Fear that I am turning to everyone but God. Fear is literally consuming me. It can be completely immobilizing.

I'm not sure what is going to happen over the next few days, weeks, or months. I'd love to say that I will be on my face before the Lord gaining my strength from Him, but since we're going for honesty here, I can't say that will be the case. I want it to be, but I'm sure it won't always happen.

So here's to honesty through trials in the new year.

Sleep, oh sleep, where art thou?

I'm not sure anyone can understand the deepest desire of sleep until they have children. Before Julia I really thought the sleep deprivation wouldn't be a big deal. I pulled all nighters in college. I spent one semester sleeping less than 4 hours a night on average. I know what it feels like to always want to take a nap, always feel a little slow, and always dependent on caffeine.

Then I had Julia and I realized I didn't have a clue.

With the lack of sleep in college it was by choice. I chose to stay up. I chose to play and then study. But I always napped. Ah, yes, I napped a lot. There was this really great library on campus that was really small and old and hardly anyone ever went there. Anyways, they had these two oversized leather chairs that looked out over the South Mall by the UT Tower. I would go up there nearly every day, kick back in the chair and read for class. Actually, I just slept. And when I didn't nap there, I would nap on the lawn of the South Mall while again "reading".

Naps now seem like a gift. Mostly because while everyone says you should nap when the baby naps it's virtually impossible, that is if you still want to do anything you did before you had a baby, like, I don't know, shower for one thing. And another thing about naps, babies don't always want to fall asleep. I just assumed all babies liked sleeping and would sleep as soon as you said "go". But that's not really the case. And getting them to sleep is like a performance. You rock, you sway, you pat, you shush, you lay down and you walk out. Now, I know that there's the idea to let the baby "cry it out". Frankly, I'm all for that. But since Jules is only 3 1/2 weeks old, I'm not going that route for now. In the future, yes, but now, no.

And along with naps are waking up. There is a HUGE difference between Julia fully napped up and Julia being awoken before she's ready. Napped up Julia is happy and cooing. Sleepy Julia is cranky and ticked. I don't blame her, I'm the same way. And if she's anything like her father (which it's scary how much she is) then she's really cranky and ticked. Then when you have people who want to wake her up, that has to be the biggest irritant. Obviously people don't realize the song and dance it took to get her to sleep and now they want to wake her up. Not because she needs to get up, but because they want to hold her. Hold her car seat. Take a picture of her and hold that. But, please, oh please, for the sake of sleep, don't wake the baby!

Too much cuteness

Maybe, just maybe... Part Two

Maybe, just maybe I don't have a clue what I'm doing.

This week has been a whirlwind. Starting Monday night, Julia decided she wanted to cry, a lot. She cried most of the day Tuesday and Wednesday. Yesterday she gave me a bit of a breather, which I really needed! Jonathan and I spent the first two days try to narrow down the reasons for her crying and we think (and could be way wrong) that Jules has a intolerance to legumes. Our reasoning behind this idea is that I ate peanut butter for the first time since she was born (on Monday and then on Tuesday) and that's when her crying all started. And I've had this gut feeling ever since we got home from the hospital that she didn't take well to beans whenever I ate them. Now, like I said, this is all just new parent somethings-wrong-with-my-kid-what-is-it hypothesis. Who knows, maybe she's just a talker. Which in all reality she'll have to be to survive in this family.

I've come to the conclusion that being a mom is the world's hardest job. I'm sure brain surgery is pretty tough, but I'm still going to say mommyhood is tougher. See, brain surgeons at least get training. Me, I got nada. I had younger brothers I baby sat, but nothing like this. And there is this since of panic when you realize that you and you alone know more about your child than anyone else in the world. HA! Are you kidding me? My understanding of the way Julia works is about as great as my understanding of brain surgery. So, that in of itself is what makes this the hardest job ever. That and the pee.

I've never been peed on and puked on more in my life. I know little boys are notorious for peeing on you, but girls?! Yep, Julia has now successfully peed on my four times in the last 30 hours. Twice she even had on a diaper. Stupid Huggies. And she's puked on me more times than that. The crazy thing is, she seems more upset about all of this than me. She pees all over and then starts crying. She pukes and looks at me like "Holy smokes, what was that?! Help me!".

But somehow through all the pee, puke and endless crying, there are some amazing moments. Like this morning. After her mid morning feeding, I had Julia propped up on my lap on some pillows and she was just staring at me and smiling (I know it was probably gas, but this momma is pretending it's a real smile) and just looking absolutely beautiful. And in that moment I thought "This is why moms do it. We do it because through all the rough times, the sleepless nights, the crying, the peeing, the puking, we get to have this sense of what God must think about us. Through all our messiness, we look up at Him with total admiration, total love, and smile at Him with awe for how He provides and cares for us through it all. And as we are looking at Him, He's staring back at us with a heart filled with more joy and love than we will ever know and more wiliness to continue cleaning us up, fixing our lives and making us whole."

Maybe, just maybe...

...I'm going to make it.

In review of the last week, things are getting better. I'm slowly starting to get my head wrapped around all the ideas of motherhood and my confidence is growing, even if a millimeter a day.

Today was a really good day. We went back to the doctor and Julia has gotten back (and passed) her birth weight. She's gained a 1/2 pound in one week, which is super good! We also went by my old work to introduce her to my co-workers. And while she screamed like none other at the appointment, I just started to realize, "Hey, babies cry, people will get over it."

Also, the feeding thing is getting smoother. We're still getting adjust to it, but like one of the nurses said today "Well, I bet the feedings are better than a week ago, and a lot better than two weeks ago." She's right. They are. And they will continue to get better.

While I could sit here and think, "Sarah, you're a great mom. You rock" all I can really think is, "Wow, God. You are a great God. I couldn't do any of this without You. Thank You." And it's true. Every day, good or bad, is a blessing from God. Today was good. Yesterday was rough. Tomorrow could go either way. But God is the same, His grace is the same, His love is the same. And that alone is worthy of my praise.

So, thank You, God. You rock.

Hello Motherhood! Goodbye Sanity!

As I am sure everyone knows, Jonathan and I had our daughter, Julia Mabel, on Friday, November 23. She weighed 8 lbs, .03 oz. She is a beautiful, precious, adorable gift from our loving heavenly Father. I can't even begin to express my joy when I hold her, feed her, love on her. I have no doubt that she will continue to be a joy and delight in my life forever.

Now, a little about her birth: (FYI, this might be TMI)

Jonathan, my mom, my brother John, and I went shopping around 6 am on the 23rd. We hung out at the Coral Ridge Mall till about 9 or so, and then came back home. I planned on resting for a little while but decided to do a little house cleaning first. About half way through vacuuming, I felt a leakage. Deep down I knew it had to be my water or something like it, but wasn't totally convinced. Then around 10:30 I started having some bad cramping, like what I'd get with a period. They weren't coming to close, but I asked my mom what she thought. She said, "Well, sweetie, I think you're in labor". So, we called Jonathan (who was still out shopping) and told him he'd better plan on heading back soon.

By noon my contractions were coming about 5-10 minutes apart and lasting about 30-45 seconds. Jonathan and I took a walk around our cul de sac before deciding it best to leave for the hospital. By 1:30 we checked in to Labor and Delivery. Now, forgive me, but this is the part where things get a little fuzzy for me. I was put in a triage room and the nurse hooked me up to two monitors; one for my contractions and one for Julia's heartbeat. The on call doctor checked me and found that I was 5-6 centimeters dialated and 50-60% effaced. I was monitored for about 30 minutes before I asked to walk around, as I'm not one to be okay with being confined to a bed. Jonathan helped me waddle down the hall, met up with my family and take a 20 minute walk before I decided that I was 1) too sleepy to keep going; 2) in even more pain since the contractions were coming even sooner.

We made it back to the triage room just to find out that in the 1 1/2 hours that I had been there, I'd already gone to 7-8 centimeters dialated. And this, this my friends is when the pain kicked in.

Before I left the triage room, the urge to push had already started. Then to top it off, the water that I had been sucking down came back up (way gross). I moved over to a delivery room and this is where my story ends. No, honestly, I really don't remember a whole lot more. But I can piece some things together for you:

1. My doctor, who was in Burlington showed up.

2. The urge to push was growing. And so was the pain.

3. The urge to push was still growing. And so was the pain.

4. At some point I asked to go to the bathroom. Jonathan helped me along, when the urge to push hit. Ok, so look, when you want to push and you aren't allowed to, yeah, that's the hard part of labor. So, here I am, sitting on the pot, needing to push, not being allowed to push, just wanting to push. That's when Jonathan stepped up to the plate. He squatted down, and said "Sarah, do you know why you can't push? If you push, you will cause damage to yourself. You will tear and be in more pain than you are now. So, you need to obey. You have to obey. You cannot push until we tell you."

5. Back in the bed, still wanting to push. Now, I start asking for some drugs. Anything. I really don't care. And again, Jonathan steps up. He just keeps repeating. "You can do this." And then when I'd want to push, he'd keep repeating "Sarah, you have to obey".

6. I think at some point I actually blacked out. I say this only because I remember "coming to" and not realizing where I was. And then I had a contraction. And then I remembered.

7. My mom. I love my mom. Before I went into labor I wasn't convinced I wanted my mom to be there with me. I have issues with modesty, and frankly birth isn't very modest, so it seemed weird to me to have her there. But at some point you just stop caring. And really, my mom was amazing. Did I mention that she's had 6 kids and was a Labor and Delivery nurse for 20 odd years? Well, yeah, needless to say, she was a God send. She really helped me to know what was coming next and what to expect. She reminded me to breathe. She got me to start focusing on Jonathan instead of closing my eyes the whole time. I'm not sure I paid too much attention to everything she said at the time, but I couldn't have made it through without her.

8. The doctor, or someone, gave the okay to push. Holy Smokes. This is the best part of labor. All this time you can't do much other than breathe and not push. But now, now you can actually do something productive.

9. Julia Mabel is born!! There lots of other things that happened between the "you can push" and Julia actually arriving, but perhaps that's too much for people. All I know is at one point I became very good at yoga.

10. Grace. Selflessness. Humility. God is going to be teaching me a lot. It's true what they say, God gives us children to shape our character, not just theirs. I've really been struggling for the last 10 days. But, you know what, God has really provided. Now, I need to just let Him keep providing, keep leading. I have way more questions than answers. I feel really lost with this whole motherhood thing. I cry a lot. But I think this is good. It breaks me. It makes me rely on God, on my husband and my friends. I'm not one to ask for help, yet I think that will change. I like perfection. I like routine. I like having things in place, on time and smooth. God's got something big in store. And I'm pretty sure it's not going to be routine, in place, on time or smooth. However, it will be His will for my family, for my life, and that's what is most important.

**If at any time you want to toss up some prayers for us that would be great.**

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.