Dinosaurs, Dangerous Questions and Thin Ice...

I am one of "those people" that, if you ask me how I am (and if I like you), I will tell you. It's a Dangerous Question. Not only is it a Dangerous Question because I am pregnant and hormonal; it's a Dangerous Question because I am, by nature, a very emotional person who doesn't hide it very well.
I wish I did.
I wish I could look you in the eye and tell you I was fine, and know that you aren't perceptive enough to know that I was lying. It's all well and good when I'm at work...after all, for the most part, those aren't people--they're "co-workers," and I'm learning that they're an entirely different species... At work, everything is "fine."
At home, everything is "fine." I love my David, so please don't think that I'm anything but genuine with him. But who among us burdens their husband with their every emotion? Especially when, emotionally, they're just not made like we are?
Almost 6 years ago, I thought that we were going to bring a wonder home from the hospital. We did...and then we didn't...and I fell into a black hole for 2 years. For 2 years, I was somebody else. I was physically ill...I was spiritually destroyed...I was suicidal...and I knew that God really did hate me. I'd have moments where I'd tell myself that I was fine, and I was getting better, but it simply wasn't true. I was far worse than I let anyone, including my husband, know. What he did know, is that although I don't think I ever lost my faith, I most definitely lost my communication with God. I had faith that He existed, but I didn't trust Him--it's two different things.
For 4 years now, I've been on my way back out. I'd like to say that the gaping wound has healed completely, but there are scars. My doctor actually asked me if I had PTSD--being back at MoBap again, seeing places I'd forgotten, but suddenly remembered, was surreal. Hallways, light fixtures--I joke about having memory loss after the heart failure, but it's true. Certain things come back in spurts; I can't really describe it. It's jarring, like a flashback; not always a bad memory, but disturbing, nonetheless.  Scars are not a bad thing to have. They remind us of the healing we've been through.
I told my pastor's wife this morning, that I feel like a donut--running around in a circle, with no substance. It's like I've been praying, but avoiding addressing the scary stuff: "God, I pray for this baby! For health, and healing, and..." What I don't say, is "God, please don't let us go through 2006 again. Please don't fail me."
He never failed me.
He never left--He never abandoned me. He didn't turn His back on us; He never turned His face away. He wasn't punishing us.
Just because I didn't get what I wanted, what I thought made sense, it doesn't mean that He wasn't there. I didn't feel Him. I didn't see Him, didn't hear a word out of Him. But He was there.
Why am I afraid of Him? He's my Father.
I think it's Psalms 16 that says "He will not abandon my soul." King David knew a few things about loss and disappointment. He also knew that God's character does not change, regardless of how our lives are altered. He is still God, and He is GOOD.
I have a Father that I have known since I was 8 years old. For 26 years, I have called myself His child, and yet I feel like a 2-year old when I talk to Him sometimes. Narcissistic. Selfish. Untrusting. Fearful. I deny His character by my reluctance to be honest with Him. Our pastor's been preaching a really great series on what Faithfulness is. The more I actually listen to, the more I wonder how often I've confused faith with hope, or faith with trust? I asked him today if hope was more of an emotional thing, where faith is more of a spiritual thing? I don't know...but I know that all of the above is being challenged right now.
We've prayed for this child for years. One thing I learned with Hannah's loss, is that God's will doesn't usually look like our will. We know what we want, and we think we know the story; however, when we truly turn our lives over to Him, we have to accept the fact that the book is written word by word, not chapter by chapter. We don't know what's going on. We have to believe that He does. He not only sees the words and the chapters; He sees the entire story of our lives, and He knows what He's doing.
We prayed that this child would be conceived in His time, by His rules. I thought He was taking too long, that He didn't want us to be parents. In May, I cried to my husband that I felt like giving up, that I was never going to be good enough for God to bless us with children. My amazing husband said to have faith.
The biggest thing I've struggled with in my life is feeling like God doesn't like me. That He couldn't really love me, because He knows what I'm really like, and that's ugly. My amazing husband said to maintain hope.
We prayed that this child would come along at a time when we were fit to fight the battle, because we knew that it would be hard. David probably knew better than I did (after all, I can do anything, right?!?!?), and he was right. From the moment I found out I was pregnant, I've said that it's felt like a battleground. I've been hiding out lately, but it's come back on in full force since yesterday. It's a mental and spiritual battle (not to mention the physical battles of shots and morning sickness and headaches--but I can TOTALLY get over that!), and it's messy. Just because I don't want to remind myself of how messy it can be, doesn't mean that it's not.
I am beyond amazed to be pregnant, but it still feels really surreal. Even when I'm looking at the ultrasounds, I'm freaked out...like, "is that my body?!?" Huh?!?  I know that will change when I start feeling movement; for now, I'm laying hands on my rapidly-expanding belly and wondering what's going on in there (besides the bladder dance).
There are things that I am overwhelmed by (mostly financial, I'm not going to lie) and things I can't allow myself to think about (how will the first 29 days be? Will I throw a party, on Day 30?).  God has supplied our needs in so many amazing ways--that I would allow myself to get overwhelmed about financial things is a testimony to how much like a 2-year old I really am. Of course He takes care of us, in spite of our worries and fears and mistakes. He doesn't give us stones when we need bread. I know it will be okay...I need to get back to "considering the lilies," like I have written on my mirror. There are things I don't want to admit that I'm afraid of (but I think that's pretty obvious). There are fears that I thought would not be a big deal, but now they're looming over me like a tyrannosaurus rex.
I just have to focus on the fact that T-Rexs are ridiculous creatures. ("I have a big head! And little, tiny arms!")
God is faithful. God never leaves us. He will not abandon our soul.
Regardless of what is, what was, or what is coming, He does not change. It is impossible for Him to not love us. Everything seems insurmountable, or scary, or impossible; everything wants to keep me awake at night. God does not.
Since I was a little girl, I've always had this image in my head of sitting on the lap of God. I've never liked sitting on anyone's lap--it's never been comfortable. But sitting on His lap has been in my heart since I can remember. To sit there, with my head on His chest, and to know that I am safe, that nothing can hurt me--that is the image I cling to when the T-Rexs of the world are chasing me. God is my superhero, and with Him, it's okay that I feel like a child. With Him, I don't have to lie if He asks me if I'm okay--He knows. He knows my fears, and my failures; He knows that all I really want is to do the right thing, even when I get in my own way. He knows me, and He loves me, and He's never left me alone.
Sitting in worship today, choking over the words that God is "Always Faithful," it hit me: I still have doubt that it's true. I still wonder if He'll come through, if He'll do what He's promised. Even though I KNOW that He will, the T-Rex of "What Ifs?" was chasing me down today. I just bought a crib--"what if" it's all for naught?
What if?
Doesn't matter.
God is faithful.
I am afraid.
God is faithful.
I am unsure.
God is faithful.
Am I crazy?
God is good.
Will You be there?
God will not abandon my soul.
It is thin ice, to say to the Most High, the Omnipotent on, that "I will trust You." To say, "Lord, do Your will."
It is thin ice, because you never know when it's going to break...
But you do know that He will always catch you...
He will never let you go.

A Pregnant Pause....For Battle.

When I look at my last post, I have to laugh. Last month, I posted all about how I was ready to "take the gloves off" and make some changes. Little did I know how important that attitude change would be...At the time of writing that blog, I was approximately 1 week pregnant, and completely unaware of it.

I've avoided blogging, since finding out that I was pregnant. This is mostly because I've made a promise to maintain transparency in my writing, and right now, that's not necessarily easy to do. My mom keeps telling me to "ponder things in my heart;" actually, that sounds more like "keep it a secret so no one knows what you're dealing with." There's a difference.

"Pondering things in my heart" means that I take the details/reports/research/fears/heartache/longing and I take it to my prayer closet (the Camry/bed), lay it down before the Father, and tell Him--and only Him--exactly how I feel. It means that only He hears the blood, sweat and tears. He hears the things I will not tell my husband, my mother, my sister, or my pastor. He hears the worst fears, and He hears the highest hopes; He hears the deepest anger and disappointments. He hears me say "Lord, I ask for Your Will...even though the last time I did that, I lost everything, and now I'm terrified to trust You." He hears me say, "I will try, I will try, I will try."  "Pondering things in my heart"  means that this very broken vessel only functions when I fall on my face before Him.

This doesn't mean that I walk around all day long like I'm some kind of a spiritual icon. It means that I wipe out, I fall down more than I stand up, I say stupid things, I get mad at the fax machine, and I basically act like Cassidy. It also means that I'm hyper-aware of my faults and failures, and that when I stop and pray, I feel more and more like a 5-year old who's just learning how to pray all over again.

Telling you what's actually going on is a scary prospect. I don't want the "attention" that comes with the cold, hard facts of this pregnancy. I also know that the phrase "who's report will you believe?!?" runs through my mind like a river.  There are spiritual things taking place during this pregnancy that are mind-blowing. I'm taking it day-by-day, "building the wall," so to speak, and every day has its own revelation of sorts.  So, if I tell you what's going on, please don't respond in fear. I AM NOT AFRAID. It makes no sense for me, to not be terrified. But I'm not afraid. Whatever God is doing, it's bigger than any fear I may have or have had. Nervous at times, yes...wondering and occasionally worried, yes. But I am not what I would call afraid. So if you're going to respond in fear, please don't. There's no place for that here.

This is why I've made the decision to not let a certain faction of my family know that I'm pregnant. I don't need their pity or worry, and I don't want it. Praying people know. That's what matters, and if that sounds harsh, I'm okay with your opinion. I also don't want to hear other people's pregnancy horror stories. I've lived through the worst thing that can happen. I don't want to know what else is out there, or how  your cousin's sister's neighbor miscarried at such-and-such weeks, or about the stillbirth, or about any of that. I've already heard the stories, and thanks to the cameradarie of my fellow Angel Moms, I've cried with families that have experienced Hell. I know what's out there--please don't remind me. I don't have blinders on.

Here are the facts: I have a condition called Antiphospholipid Antibody Syndrome. It's a clotting disorder that can most likely be blamed for every heart-related issue that I had in my first pregnancy. It's pretty rare, and most doctors don't test for it until you've had 5-6 miscarriages. I am blessed to have one of the top perinatologists in the nation: Dr. Michael Paul at Missouri Baptist Hospital. He had a hunch, and tested me--he is a gift from God. APS can be tied to a lot of complications, but there is a battle plan to attack it. I'm on daily injections of blood thinners that I give myself. No--it's not fun. But I'm over it.  Premature delivery is a common side effect of APS and/or the treatment for APS, so please join with me in praying against this. Our baby is due 2/16/13. As excited as I am to meet him/her, I don't want to see their beautiful face until then!!!

Hannah didn't die from my APS. Hannah caught a completely off-the-wall bug called late-onset Group B Strep. GBS typically comes from the mother--or so I thought. Late-Onset GBS does NOT come from the mother. It's a bacteria that colonizes on the skin and in the air. She could have got it from anyone, from anywhere. There is nothing preventative about it--there is no way of knowing how she got it, or how to keep it from happening again. Granted, the chances of a second occurrence are so rare that there aren't even any statistics for it.  The sheer randomness of LOGBS is the one thing I will not allow myself to think about. Please do not try to discuss this topic with me. There are certain conversations that I have to be bold enough to stop before they start, and this is one of them. I trust Jesus.

Please understand:  I am a different person than I was with my first pregnancy. I am scarred, I am broken, I am healed, and I am on guard in a way that I never knew was possible. I tend to be so open to suggestion, especially where fear is concerned. Fear has been a stronghold in my life since I can remember, and I've referenced that a lot in my blogging history. I will not let it dictate this time in my life. When I first found out that I was pregnant, I told 2 people, for prayer support. I waited through 5 days of lab tests/results/hell before I was bold enough to tell my husband--I didn't want to break his heart with a "maybe."  I am only just beginning to let myself embrace the joy of being pregnant--only since Tammy Riddering taught the Song of Solomon class on trusting Jesus as a "safe Saviour."  Of course He is--where else can I go?  I've felt like I was on a battlefield against myself, more than anyone, since I found out that I was pregnant. I'm even on guard when I sleep--certain dreams, I wake myself up from; I find myself fighting in my dreams, even against people I love (this doesn't surprise me; sometimes the people you love the most, say the dumbest things!:). I am guarding what I watch on television, what I hear on the radio, where I let my mind wander. I'm not ostracizing myself; I just don't want to be open to negative suggestions. The media inspires fear, and I don't need any help in that department!

What I need, are my friends and family to pray. Do not pray in fear; pray in trust. In my heart, I believe that this pregnancy and a safe delivery are going to somehow knock walls down for the Kingdom. It's a long story, as to where that comes from, and I don't necessarily understand it. I've been reading Nehemiah, and though I don't really get why I'm studying the building of a wall, while hoping for the tearing down of walls, I do see incredible spiritual truths coming out of this reading. I don't mean to sound preachy--it's just where I am.

Someone said, "My wish for you is a BORING pregnancy." I love that--I would like nothing more, than to have that. Regular monitoring by the perinatologist (every 2 weeks) means that so far, it's interesting, but other than the injections, uneventful. I want to keep it that way. I want to be "normal." So, please join with me in unity to pray for a boring pregnancy...for a full-term, healthy baby that comes into this world with peace, no fear, and with amazing hope for a beautiful future. Pray for peace in my household...for financial organization, continued job stability, and that we (as in, my entire family) celebrate and embrace the joy of this pregnancy. Fear has no place here...only trust, grace, and joy.

Thanks for partnering with me in prayer, on the battleground that's already been claimed. You guys are more of an encouragement than I let you know. :)

P.S.--Graduate school/pre-classes for Graduate School has been put on pause until 8/2013. It's going to happen....but I'm in no hurry. :)

Taking the next step, boxing gloves in hand...

Fear.
It's a HUGE part of my life.  Yesterday, Mom said, "Girl, you are afraid of EVERYTHING!!!" People that aren't around me all of the time may not see that, but it's so true--I'm totally terrified , and that fear leads to a constant feeling of inadequacy and self-loathing. The fear factor has definitely increased over the course of the past few years. For a while after Hannah died, I was actually so afraid that David would die in a car accident, that I was afraid to tell God that I was thankful for him. I was afraid to say that I liked my job, because I just knew as soon as I did, that I would get fired. I was afraid to celebrate any good thing, because I knew it wasn't meant for me, and that I'd lose it if I celebrated it. That's subsided, but I still deal with a sense of "oh, be careful! Don't get too excited...don't get too attached! Nothing's guaranteed!!!!"
I work in a world of academia, surrounded by brilliant women. Smart people terrify me. I was a valedictorian...in a class of 6 people. I graduated from college after being the recipient of numerous scholarships...but I lost the only one I ever earned for my grades.  I have a knack for walking into walls, saying the wrong thing at the worst possible time, and for tripping over my own two feet. I'm uncoordinated, talk too much without saying anything, and seriously lack the ability to know when to end a conversa......you get the point.
There's a song by TLC that I used to love, called "Unpretty."  I've always liked it, because it rings true with how I feel physically and mentally. Never feeling "good enough" is such a cliche, but I get it. I just. Plain. Don't.  I always wanted to wake up with some secret magical Peter-Parker-Moment, some superhero quality that made me different, made me special. The reality of being "normal" sucks. But I am. I'm just an average Jane. And being surrounded by all of these brilliant people reiterates that feeling.  I've always felt like there was something more, and I'm missing it. 
A few years ago, I heard a message about not settling for Plan B...about not being happy with circumnavigating your Promised Land (thanks, Ben Scofield), Shortly thereafter, I put a note on my bathroom mirror to be "thankful" for wherever I am..but not to be satisfied. I've spent 13 years in Plan B.  I've had a few glimpses of Plan A (thanks, David, for marrying me--you're the best Plan A EVER!), but I know that there's more.  Being a wife is #1. Motherhood is #2. And continuing my education is #3. My grandma used to say to me, "You promise me that you'll go to college!" I did. When I was in college, Dr. Pabarcus (and his super-cool doctoral hat that he wore to graduation ceremonies) would say, "Hey, "Dr. Baumann" sounds good!" "Sure...right." I'd say.
#2 is on the table. It could happen any time, any day, and I am 100% for it. Motherhood is my ultimate lifetime heart's desire. There's nothing I want more, other than to be a good wife.
I work for an institution that wants me to learn. I want to learn. I want to keep going...maybe it's "Dr. Cooley" that's resonating in my ears, I don't know--but I feel like watching people like Lauren Preston or John Grapperhaus is inspiring me not to sell myself short. These are "normal" people who are holding down jobs and raising families, and who are Going. To. School.
I've seen that it can be done.
I'm terrified...I'm petrified.
I want to go.
I jumped.
Clicking the "apply now" button on UMSL's website was a truly frightening experience. In fact, I was waiting for the "APPLICATION REJECTED" e-mail (and it may still come). But I've applied, and for me and all of my fears, that was the biggest part of the battle. 
Transcripts have been requested, and I've contacted several former professors for Letters of Recommendation; fortunately, a few of them have complied. For them to remember me (and to say nice things about me) is incredibly humbling. I sat in my office yesterday and cried after the former president of my alma mater called me to tell me he'd write the letter. Who am I? I'm truly, truly freaked out. Total Sally Field moment--"they really like me!!!"
I'm applying to the graduate program in the English department. I know it's a lot of work--my boss' daughter just graduated from the program (which is GREAT, because she's understanding!), and told me it's tough. I'm hoping to consistently take 1-2 classes/semester (and I'm starting with 1!). My undergraduate degree is in Bible, so it's likely that I'll have to take some classes to even start the graduate program. I'm okay with that. 
Well, as okay as I can be. If you saw my insides, you'd see what looks like a tiny mouse, shaking in a corner.  I'm petrified.
I know that this is a direction I want to go; more importantly, it's a direction I feel like I am supposed to go. If I try, and I fail, at least I didn't miss the opportunity.
At least I didn't let the fear win.
If I try, and I fail, at least I can say that I clicked the button.
If I try...
Maybe I'll succeed?

Where have YOU BEEN?!?!?

I really, REALLY need to get on here and post more often. 'Cause, when I finally DO sit down here and say what's up, I wind up writing a NOVEL. For. REAL. So, I'm going to break this up into 4 parts, and you can just scroll down to what you're interested in: 1. The Dog and the Garden (Just found out that tabs don't work in a blog!) The dog is doing exceptionally well. The Amazing Dr. Pat Tate saw her in the parking lot on the day that her staples were removed, and remarked that she is incredible. Holly is the WonderDog, and we are thankful that God is allowing her a quick recovery! She thinks she's fine, so keeping her quiet is definitely the hardest part. The garden is quite the amazing experience. Challenged by the incomparable Paige Clausen, I built 2 raised garden beds this spring, and planted cherry tomatoes, cucumbers, squash, peppers, snap peas, lettuce, spinach, kale, cabbage, a "French salad blend," several herbs (in pots), and Lord knows what else. Frost be darned, it's all growing quite well. We were able to make our first harvest this weekend, and since we've recently started juicing (thanks, Ms. Helbig!), the garden's really going to come in handy. Evidently, we like carrots A LOT in juice form, so next year I'll be planting those as well (somewhere).

2. The Anniversary 7 years have gone by, since I said "I do" to that amazing guy. David and I have been through more stuff than some couples will see in 70 years, much less, 7, and I'm so proud that he picked me! Even though in the middle of this Home Makeover, I find myself wanting to throw a paint can at his head, I love him very much. He makes my soul smile, and I wouldn't have him any other way. Our anniversary was spent getting a massage at the Healing Arts Academy (highly recommended, for those of us on a budget--student massages are $35/hour, and even though they're students, guess what? There's almost no such thing as a "bad" massage. We've had one great massage there, and one ho-hum massage there. I had a St. Louis Post-Dispatch coupon for an hour massage, for $17, so I'm not complaining. We'd go back.) Anyways, I also had a Living Social coupon for Jilly's Cupcakes, so after our de-stressing massages, we had a healthy lunch at Sansai, followed by a total gluten-fest at Jilly's. Yes, the saying is true: David, I love you like a fat kid loves cake. The sad fact that cake makes me happy, as noted earlier this week on Facebook, makes me realize how warped and food-dependent I am. I. Love. Cake. Period.

3. The "Extreme For Us" Home Makeover I got this "bright" idea to burn up some vacation time, with a "staycation." Since any ideas of a holiday have been demolished by the cost of Dear Holly's surgery (she'd better live to be 100, that's all I'm sayin'), and since our house has looked the same for 7 years, I decided to call in my army of family, and freshen up the downstairs. When we bought this house, David moved in first, then we got married, and then I moved in. In that process, I had appendicitis, and 6 weeks before my wedding, as we were frantically trying to find a house to move in to, I was hospitalized. He found the house, I signed for it sight-unseen (in a tremendous act of faith/submission/blind love), and began to work on it while I planned the wedding and recovered (and tried to work). It was a time of massive, frantic chaos (and should have served as fair warning for the scope of our matrimony). So, we were trying to pick wall colors, and frankly, I didn't really care. I had a few things I liked, he knew what he wanted, and I had just had my appendix ripped out, so for the past 7 years, our living room has been a pleasant beige-and-brown; our kitchen has been a rather loud orange; and our guest bathroom has been a blah-shade of ivory-maybe-peach. David said that I could pick what I wanted, and now, ta-da! Our kitchen is...um...well, it's a much calmer shade of orange (aka, "Golden Sunset" and "Pumpkin Bread," our living room is "Meadow Fresh" green (sounds like laundry detergent), and the guest bathroom is (my favorite) "3-Olive Martini." I have to give a HUGE shout-out to the Lowe's in Arnold--I can honestly say that I've NEVER had such incredible customer service in a big-box store, much less, a hardware store. They were super-nice, and since I'm not getting anything from them for free, you know I'm telling the truth. Based on advice from The Man, Mr. Greg Jones, we found some tin that was reclaimed from O'Connell's Pub in St. Louis, and my uber-awesome Dad hung it up as a fancy-schmancy tin backsplash in the kitchen. The final touch came today, with all of the doors and trimwork getting a fresh coat of paint. We also took a risk, and painted our countertops with a specialty paint. Because we went with a flat color, we're hoping that it looks more "real" than the marbling kits that are out there. Really, that backsplash is something phenomenal. When this house finally sells, it will be hard to leave that behind. I love knowing that we not only reduced our carbon footprint; we have a piece of St. Louis history to say "Good Morning!" to us every day. I love this city, and now it's in my house.

4. Church So, one of my homies called me the other day, to say that people at Southgate were asking where we'd been. That's cool...just a kind reminder, I'm still here, reachable via cell, e-mail, Facebook, and Twitter (@CassidyCooley). If you're curious, let me know. This has been a delicate, careful transition, and the last thing I want is for rumors to start. David and I have loved, and been loved, by people at Southgate since we returned from Kentucky in 2009. Of course, when we left in 2008, we left our beloved Rivers of Life...when we came back, ROL had fully merged with Victory in an unprecedented act of unity and downright awesomeness. Frankly, I think that more churches need to take note of the process that Southgate has gone through in both merging, and in birthing a new church. It's pretty phenomenal, and though the little things may cause internal bickering (logos, coffee in the sanctuary, what have you:), when you look at the community of the big picture, it's pretty cool. Southgate is a huge supporter of the Gateway House of Prayer, and works together with World View Community Fellowship to keep GHOP, well, "hopping." We spent quite a bit of time praying about where God would like for us to serve, and in this season, World View is where He has put us. It doesn't mean that we're leaving Southgate with any anger--Christians need to get over thinking that transitions happen because of bad things. Sometimes, God just moves you, period. David's heart has been pulling in this direction for some time; I risked God's blessing on our household because I would not submit. I finally got my head out of my rear, prayed with the right heart, and here we are. I miss my Southgate friends, so this will challenge me to not be a hermit, and to keep in touch. We've spoken with who we needed to speak to, in leadership, and we have peace about this decision. More importantly, we have unity (no one ever said that would come without sacrifice!). So, we're there, and I'm here, and we have nothing but total love for both churches. Honestly, I'm still listening to the SG podcasts, and I'm excited about where God is taking the church. Cool things, totally!!! I realize, that as I intro'd, I have written a novel. I really, REALLY need to get on here more often. I'm off of work for the rest of this week, and there are more flat surfaces that can be painted in my house, so for now, I have to go. For one last thing, I'd really like to win the Mother-Daughter Look-Alike contest. Mom deserves it, especially after having to listen to me rant for 20 solid minutes this afternoon while I was high on countertop paint-fumes: