The Sorting Hat...

It's 6:00 am on Sunday. David has just stumbled into the office asking what in the heck I'm up to--he's adorable when he's like this. We're not much for drinking (although I do like a good glass of wine); I've never seen him drunk or hungover. I imagine it's similar to how he just walked into this room, and it's hilarious. I've sent him back to bed (I am, after all, used to getting up for work at 4:00 am), and now I'm alone with my thoughts...

I have a Facebook friend who makes a lot of Hobbit references. My dad also loves all of those books; sadly, that's a bonding experience we will never have. Try as I may, I just don't like Tolkien (sorry, Dad). However, I love the Harry Potter books/movies. So I will unashamedly make a lot of HP references, and since I am writing this blog, it is clearly my perogative. :)
I love the concept of the Sorting Hat: Something comes along in the midst of your confusion and fear, and tells you EXACTLY where you're supposed to be. Can I get one of those?  'Cause let me tell you, if I had a Sorting Hat, that sucker would NEVER leave my noggin. The Holy Spirit does the same thing, I know--but that whole "audible voice" thing really piques my interest. Hearing the voice of God in the midst of the battlefield can be very hard to do--but you have to hear your General/Captain/Commander-In-Chief, right? It's hard to get quiet when the battle is raging.
But here I am.
Yesterday, we went to my parents' house to do a Sorting of our own. 6 years ago, Hannah's things were sorted out...things that were deemed "special" were kept, as were things that were necessary (the flamingo onesie...a stroller...the nursery decorations)...other things were given away in heaps.
I have no memory of this process, and I don't know why. I don't remember packaging them up, or taking them to the attic. I don't know where things went, or who got what...It never bothered me until yesterday. Mom says it's for the best, but it nags at me--where did my brain go? Going through some of these things was almost like going through a stranger's storage unit. But...going through some of those things was like open-heart surgery (minus the anesthetic). I'm not going to lie or make it sound pretty:
It hurt.
I kept a pretty good stiff, upper lip--after all, Choleric Mom was watching, and she never misses a chance to attempt to counter my sniffles with a reminder that Hannah is in Heaven. That actually makes me mad sometimes--can't you just let me cry, and get it out of my system? Stop trying to give me band-aids--I need to bleed this out! But then I look at it from her perspective--She's seen me cry enough over this.
So I waited until it was just David, me, and the dog...and for a few minutes, let it rip.
This child will be wearing clothes that were not purchased for them. Things were bought for someone else--someone that didn't have the chance to grow up, that I didn't have the chance to raise. I'm not being a brat here--it's not like I can or would, just burn everything and go buy all new. That would be stupid, impractical, and selfish. I have a pretty good sense of reuse/recycle. Even if Hannah would have had the chance to use or wear all of the stuff that I've stored, I'd still be reusing it, so that part makes no difference. It's the heart behind it--We had picked out little things just for her.  Certain toys were given to me at a shower that I never got to go to--for her.
This child will not know that their stuffed monkey was not originally intended for them. I do. Will I think that, every time I see the darn monkey? Of course not. And I think that most of these feelings will fade pretty quickly--after all, it's the first time I've seen monkeys and strollers and Lord-knows-what in 6 years. It was a bit of a shock. I think I'm still processing it all.
Walking through the living room this morning, seeing the bags of stuff that we brought home...I immediately turned around and walked out. I actually think it's the amount of work that will be involved in finding places to put the stuff, than the stuff itself--I don't want to think about the mess we have to work through! :) The nursery is a disaster--it's been extra closet space for the past 5 years, and we have no idea where to begin organizing it. (If I wasn't me, I'd call me for help. But since I am me, my "great organizing solution" is to run, hide, and to try not to think about it. Too bad I don't have a basement!!!:)
I'm okay, really. I"m not going to say I was "super prayed-up" or "filled with faith" to get through this--I think I was in more of a state of "git-er'-done." Regardless of where I was, though, I can say that it felt like there was peace instead of panic in The Sort. We got it done, and now I can finally start a Baby Registry for this little one.
Tomorrow, we make another attempt to find out what we're having. We're having our Anatomy US done, and I will make my first cardiologist's visit for this pregnancy. I hope it's my ONLY cardiologist's visit. Ultrasounds make me terribly nervous--half the time, I'm afraid to look at the screen. My friends at work think I'm crazy for this-but they don't know what I've been through. When you've had so much hope, and so much loss, even when it's irrational you still fear going through it again. You try to counter it with faith, but it sneaks in. I'm thankful there are "blockers" (Quidditch reference!) who stop my fear-sidetracks with a quick word or prayer (David's great at that!). And I don't know if you've ever had an echo done...but they're kinda painful for me. Being "chesty", plus having so much scar tissue from previous surgeries, means that the technician has to push really hard on my chest. Add pregnancy to that, and I'm NOT looking forward to this echo!  Tomorrow I will be poked, prodded, and probably stabbed, all for an end result of what I hope is PERFECT. Mom will be spending the day at the hospital with me, thank God...she may be a good ol' choleric, but I need her.  I think she needs to check on me, too. She won't admit it, but certain things she's said make me realize that she has her own fears with this pregnancy. She is my mom, after all. <3 p="p">I'm nervous about tomorrow...excited...I hope I can come back and tell you more about this baby...
Reusing things that were meant for Hannah means that I can finally put the things that were given or bought with so much love, to good use. It's actually fulfilling a hope, although I had to go through a bit of a dark cloud to figure that out. Seeing this child use the handmade blankets...the nursery decor that my mother lovingly made...even the flamingo onesie (provided this is a girl)...I think it will feel 100% right. It's just taken me a day to put some perspective on it. I'm super-thankful that Mom and David were there to help, and to "block" me from dwelling on the negative.
After a bloody good cry in the car on the way home, David was kind enough to take me for my favorite sno-cone (S&Js, Arnold, MO!!! Wedding Cake with whipped cream--GET ONE!), and we had a good talk. Well, I talked, and he listened. He's getting better at letting me riff for a while, and then putting in his two cents. He's a pretty sharp dude, That Guy I Married. I'm glad he picked me.
The Sort could have gone so much worse...I'm so thankful that it didn't, and that we were smart enough to do it together. We were exhausted after all of it, and my house is a wreck, but it's done. Now I really do feel like I can start preparing for C-Rex. :)
There was peace in the battlefield, peace that I hadn't even remembered to pray for. I think it's more than possible that a Facebook post I did early in the morning may have put out the red flag to my friends and family that we needed prayer, and maybe they delivered? Because it went better than I'd hoped. So if you prayed, thank you. You helped my family stay sane through a tough day!
Like I said online--God is bigger. Hope is brighter. And Life is beautiful...
I'm looking forward to it.

The Mystery Continues...

So much for the "Big Reveal!" 
Ultrasounds are the strangest, coolest, most surreal thing to sit through. Someone's pushing outside of you, looking inside of you, to check something out. I've had so many of them done at this point, that the lack of modesty one endures in the process is moot (I love that word!!!!). I don't even care anymore--probe away! 
These things are even stranger when the thing they're looking at/for, moves around on the screen. It's a bit alien, to be honest...you can't feel them move yet, but there they are!!!  I look forward to these with such a nervous anticipation...if I had fingernails to bite off, they'd be chewed to nubs, I swear! Yesterday was supposed to be when we find out what we're having: boy, or girl? David and I each have our thoughts, but nothing is definite yet. The anticipation is driving my family crazy!! Personally, I just want to get my names figured out. :)
I was super-cranky yesterday...and then the ultrasound started....and there they were...Try as hard as she may, the ultrasound tech could NOT get a determination. Our little Coolio sat with their legs folded, Indian-style (I smacked David--that's YOUR family!), and jumped around like a little Indian jumping bean. It was frustratingly hilarious. I really wanted to know...
But I could have sat their and watched that screen for hours.
Boing...
Boing....
Boing...
Our little peanut (who's actually quite large--8 oz, to be "exact") seems to be a happy little froggy. Long legs, big belly, and a ginormous brain.
Yep--this one takes after me. :)
I don't have any great spiritual point with this blog. I'm just so stinking happy, that I had to take a break just to share it with you. As our baby gets more active, and more defined, the reality of it all sets in more and more, and I feel like I could just explode. To watch him/her bounce around on the screen yesterday...I wish I had a recording to share. The wonder of the creation of God is astounding--how, and why, did He make us that way? We bounce around from the very beginnings--we're a blank slate, ready to absorb the world.
My prayer is that my Indian jumping bean makes his/her way through the world and never loses that joy...that they "boing" through life, bouncing back from every obstacle or deterrent, and press on, determined to revel in the peace and love that God brings us all...my prayer is that David and I teach him/her everything is in His hands--they're the only thing we can never "boing" out of.
So what, if I didn't get my "big reveal" of boy vs. girl?
I think God decided to reveal something else...:)

Building a Mystery....

Oooh, I get 10 points for a Sarah McLachlan 90's song reference!  You know, I've never understood those lyrics...
How is it possible to go all ADD when I'm just starting this blog?!?!??
I'm 17 weeks pregnant. There is a tiny human in my stomach that has just, over the course of the past week, begun to make their presence known. There isn't any kicking, per se; actually, there's just this crazy pressure/shifting/weirdness going on that I wish I could put into words. I'm all belly--which to me, is a good (but weird) thing. 
I have a good friend who's quite blunt, that has informed me that I look 6 months pregnant (especially right after I eat). Although this made me sad and highly self-conscious, she's right. I feel huge, already, and it's a point of concern. Strangely enough, though, as of this morning I am STILL 3 pounds down from my pre-pregnancy weight. If this keeps going, my hope is that I will have gained less than 20# during this pregnancy. (For someone of my height/weight combination, anywhere from 11-24 pounds is acceptable). I have no desire to Jessica Simpson-ize myself; I feel terrible for friends that have told me that they gained 40-50# during their pregnancies. I can't take off the excess weight pre-pregnancy--there's no way I could take off 40-50# post-partum. It just seems overwhelming, to try and initiate a weight loss plan while trying to raise a tiny human.
My weight is a big deal to me--it's a big part of my life that I wish I would have dealt with more effectively before conceiving (much like my finances). The last few weeks have been a battle with myself over feeling guilty for not being more financially disciplined in preparation for God fulfilling His promise, and for not being more physically disciplined in preparation for God fulfilling His promise. I kinda feel like an oil-less virgin. He's lit my lamp, but I didn't prepare, and now I'm scrambling. This is a huge lesson to me (by God's grace, I hope it's not too little, too late): If God has a promise for you, if you believe that it's true, make the preparations NOW like it's going to happen tomorrow. Stay prepared. I really hope that I've officially got this through my thick skull, and I'm incredibly thankful that God still, in spite of my lack of preparation, sees fit to take care of us. I know that He will provide. I feel foolish, having to ask Him...but I ask anyways, because He is my Father, and He knows the need/lack of preparation/heart's desire before I even approach Him. 
That being said, He's proven Himself time and time again. David got an unexpected bonus at work. I had one of the elusive 3-paydays-in-a-week checks (they don't take out an insurance payment, so it's a little extra). We had standing water in our laundry room from a leaky shower that only cost $6 to fix (thanks, Dad!). My brother-in-law was able to put a new starter in the Camry, which saved us a huge mechanic's bill. It's not a massive windfall, but it is enough to make sure we're cared for. It's manna, and it's enough for today. I think that's pretty neat.   I look back at the testimonies of my parents--how God took such good care of them when we were kids. I look at David and I, and at the testimonies of how God has brought us through. I think of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego--how they made it through the fiery furnace, and didn't even smell like smoke. Do we smell like smoke? I really don't think so. God has truly carried us through.
Ever want to post something about God's goodness, and worry that if you do, you're just opening yourself up for an attack? Me, too. But I can't get through the pressures of today, without stopping to consider the testimonies of yesterday. He is faithful--even when we don't think He's making any sense. He's faithful.
He was faithful yesterday, and He is faithful today.
He is faithful tomorrow.
"Building a Mystery:" There's a reason that I titled this blog with that reference. Up until today, the tiny human-in-residence has been swirling around my insides with no name. She/he has been referred to as "they" for the 14 weeks that I've known they're there. My struggles with fear during this pregnancy are very real. I look forward to my doctor's visits, only so that I can hear a heartbeat and rest assured that all is okay. I still look at the ultrasounds screens with an out-of-body feeling....it doesn't always feel like it's really happening to me. Today, however, a tiny part of the mystery of pregnancy will be revealed: We find out what we're having this afternoon.
This is a milestone to me.
I'm not sure why, but it seems to me that this small part of identity will make this experience more real...like my struggle with "detachment" will be diminished. Someone prayed over me yesterday that I would embrace the joy of pregnancy. It's not the first time that I've heard that prayer; I think that I struggle with focusing on "just breathing," that I forget to celebrate the wonder and weirdness of this strange state that I'm in! Right now, in this moment, I am carrying a child. I am! It's so freaky!!!!  There's a tiny human swimming around my cavernous abdomen! That's crazy!!!!!  Even now, 17 weeks in, I'm shaking my head at how weird it is. And I know this isn't my first time around...but in a lot of ways, it feels kind of like it is. My symptoms are different; my mood is different. I'm not 28 this time around, and I feel different. I'm a different person to start with, and I'm handling things differently. I'm also not waltzing into this pregnancy with my eyes closed to reality. I've had to face a whole different realm of possibilities since my last pregnancy, and I feel more like Katniss Everdeen in Mockingjay, than Hermione Granger in Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets.  I'm scarred, I've been broken, and the "shiny" has worn off. God is far more real to me in 2012 than He was in 2006, and my relationship with Him, for better or for worse, is much, much different. I'm not going to say that I'm jaded, because I'm not. I will say that I'm simply not as oblivious as I used to be (as far as this goes. For everything else, well, that remains to be seen:). I think that Ephesians 6:12 has a whole new meaning to me. This is not my parents' battle. It's not my sister's, or my pastor's. It's mine, and it's David's, and it truly belongs to the Lord. We will sit back and worship Him. We will praise Him; we will honor Him, and He will knock down the walls in a battle that we may or may not even fully see. We do not have all of the answers. I wish we did.
We do not know how to raise a child. We do not know how to ensure they will grow up with a heart for the Lord. We don't know how to do anything. We're starting this child up from the womb, the only way we know how: Prayer. 
We're praying to a God that we cannot see, yet One Whom we trust with our whole hearts. We are entrusting everything to the greatest of Mysteries...
Fortunately, to Him, nothing is mysterious...