Two weeks.
He's been in our lives for two
whole weeks...and as time goes by, my internal clock ticks on...The rhythm
continues: 29 days...15 down, 14 to go...halfway there...I can breathe in 15
more days...
I'd like to say that I'm stronger.
I'd like to say that I haven't had
strange rounds of crying for no reason...
That I haven't yelled at my
husband...
That I haven't looked at my
post-pregnancy belly and cried
Will I ever hold a child in this
stomach again?
Do I want to?
There are questions that I'd like
to know the answers to, but know that now is not the time. There will be more
tests, a lot of prayer, and hopefully, some financial stability. Frankly, I’d like to adopt. But again-that’s
a discussion for another time…
Days are different now…Wake up
(struggle!), change-feed-pump-change-feed-pump…There’s a background of TV shows
running that I hardly pay attention to. I pray a lot more…mostly, to speak
words of life and mission over my son. I feel like as he grows up, that we’re
raising him to send to a battlefield. It’s the very crux of his name: Jericho.
Jericho is a place that we speak of and often
forget the significance. It’s a place where God’s people were called to battle,
not with weapons, but with obedience and with worship. It took tremendous
faith, to be the underdogs that marched silently around a fortified city.
SILENTLY.
I’m not so good at “silent.”
The Israelites had no idea what
would happen; only that God would take care of them. And He did—the city was
flattened, and the people of the Lord prevailed in spite of the odds. It’s a pretty
cool story. It’s even cooler that the name “Jericho” means “place of fragrance.” “Place
of fragrance?” How many times do we hear that worship is a pleasing fragrance
to the Lord? That’s where my son’s name comes from—our prayer is that he would
be a place of worship to God.
I’m in a timeframe of silence right
now. I’m away from people…I’m incubated. Thoughts of my return to the office
are met with near-hysteria—I don’t want to go. I’d give just about anything to
stay at home with my son, but due to the economy and some stupidity, we’re not
in the place where we can financially do that. So, in a short amount of time,
it’s back to the grindstone I go. I have arrangements made that will keep my son
out of daycare—that was the most important thing for me, and I’m thankful for
it. But leaving my son with someone…trusting them with the most precious person
in my life…is not easy on my heart, so your prayers, even now, are
appreciated. I don’t know how I’m going
to do it.
I have no idea what will happen.
I only know that God will take care
of both of us.
That lack of understanding…the need
to lean on Him…is a recurrent theme in my life. Just once, I’d like to know how
something is going to play out, in advance…
I guess I kind of do…
I know that He will take care of us—is
that enough? It has to be.
All of these things swirl in my
head…my unexpected advanced leave of absence from the job, wondering if I’ll
ever be pregnant again, wondering if I can get off the pre-pregnancy weight
that I gained upon switching to a desk job last year (I seriously gained 30
pounds after taking the position I’m currently in—30, out of the 50 I had
lost!!! Thankfully, the pregnancy weight is already gone.)…hoping that my heart
decides to start working again like it’s supposed to…wondering if my blood
pressure will ever be “normal” again, or if the cardiomyopathy will be
permanent this time (highly unlikely)…trying to relinquish control over the
things that I have no control over…missing my friends…not wanting to leave my
house or my son…
Wondering if I’m crazy because I
really, really enjoy this time by myself…just me and him…and hoping that’s
normal (because my anti-social tendencies are really at an all-time high!)…
Feeling like the filter that I
barely hang on to, is COMPLETELY gone (be nice to me)…feeling a little
misunderstood…okay, a LOT misunderstood…
I don’t know…There’s a lot that’s rolling around in my
brain. After we’ve passed our one-month marker, my hope is to start integrating
JD into normal life…venturing out to church…perhaps trying to go to a store, or
to GHOP…The sabbatical of doctors appointments and hospitals being my total
social network is coming to an end, and it scares me…but it’s a necessity.
In the meanwhile, I am thankful. I know it doesn’t sound
like it—I know I sound like a bit of an emotional mess. Blogging is generally a
way to process the wall of thoughts that I have trouble sorting through, so
bear with me. I’ll find my feet again. I think it’s just part of the post-pregnancy-processing.
Part of my issue is that I honestly don’t remember my recovery after bringing
Hannah home. I don’t think we had her home long enough for all of this to hit—we
had her home for maybe 10 days? JD has been home for 8.
That one-month marker can’t come soon enough…
But I am thankful.
Thankful for every day with him…
For every smile (even though I know it’s gas)…
For every successful feeding…
For every time I pick him up, smell his hair (I think it
might curl!), lay him on my chest, and feel him curl up to the sound of my
janky old heartbeat…
For every little burp…
For every time he jailbreaks his swaddle…
For every expression…every picture…every time his eyes open…
For every hope, dream, and answered prayer that I see on his
face….
I am thankful.
That much, I have total clarity in.
So for that,
I will rest in the knowledge that I have a Savior that I am
thankful to, that will take care of me
That will take care of him
And that will hold our little family in His arms…
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