Tiny onesies
Handled with care
Sorted and separated
Stored into bins
Anxiously waiting
To make their debut
On a child that will be here
Before we know it...
Anticipation...
35 years old,
And as the day grows closer,
I feel like I'm 5
And it's about to be
Christmas...
Can't wait to see where the
Father is taking us...
Can't wait to meet
Our son...
How did a teenager
Handle this excitement?
How did Mary
Trek through the deserts,
On an ill-timed census
While 9 months pregnant?
Anticipation?
Fear?
Terror?
Trust in the man by her side
(Who did not wear her ring)?
Faith?
The emotions she held,
That we believe she
Pondered in her heart--
Truly, she was special.
I sleep on a mattress
Designed for support and comfort
And still complain about my
"hips, my back, my neck;"
She slept on a camel...
In a barn...
On the ground.
Doctors will orchestrate my
Delivery
With medicine and antibiotics
And centuries of research;
She was in straw,
Surrounded by sympathetic strangers
And animals that were not versed
On hygiene.
This time of the year,
I can't help but compare the two...
I cannot watch the journey of
Joseph and Mary
Without thinking of how
Scared
Confused
Uncomfortable
Angry
She must have been.
Pregnant women in our day
Get some kind of "free pass"
For being difficult;
Mary would have had no such luck.
Culture would have demanded her
Subserviance
Politeness
Cordiality
Meekness.
I would have been
Beheaded.
One thing we have in common:
We anxiously await the birth of
A Son (a son)
Who will change
Our world...
Except
Mary's Son
Delivered us all...
My son
Belongs to Him.
The birth of a Savior
Revolutionized the world...
That birth
Led me to the grace of God...
The grace of God
Led me to salvation...
Salvation
Led me to forgiveness...
Forgiveness
Led me to faith
And faith has led me to
This
Point
In my life.
I have no idea what God has in store
For me,
For my child,
For my husband...
But to be like Mary,
Throughout the journey,
I will trust Him...
Tuesday, December 25, 2012
Thursday, December 20, 2012
Brief Blog: Update
It's a wonderful time of the year! David and I have a lot to look forward to...
Up until this point, all of our doctors' appointments have gone really well. Unfortunately, over the last week, we've had a few things take some turns we were not expecting. Without going into details, I would ask at this time that you say a quick prayer for us, and for Baby Cooley. Our doctors have the advantage this time of knowing my medical history, and of knowing what to plan for. The specialists are using their great brains to figure out a game plan.
It would seem as though the "boring" part of my pregnancy is officially over; now, we play a waiting game of balancing medications, taking tests, and most importantly for me, of resting when I'm at home.
This is what we're praying for, and we'd humbly like to ask you to agree with us:
1. God's Will to be revealed: We are completely relying on Him. We know that He is faithful (Hebrews 10:23), and that He knows what's going on.
2. Wisdom for the doctors
3. That delivery will be put off as long as possible (I'd like to make it to 35-36 weeks, at the earliest)
4. That I can continue working until 34 weeks (So far, so good--I realize this is not the priority, and that God will provide, regardless. I would actually like to keep working as long as is safely possible. If the doctors say "no," I will be obedient...but I'd like to work).
5. That certain medications will not be required.
6. That I can keep my wits about me, and stop being a nervous wreck. It's easy to write about God being faithful; it's much harder to focus on it when I'm getting overloaded in medical details.
And that's it. I realize that I usually write WAY too much, but the details are irrelevant. Besides--I have a propensity to focus on the drama and/or scary emotion of the details, and I don't need to stress myself out with that. There are a few people who have heard my entire emotional gamut in this situation, and they've reminded me of what's WAY more important: God is bigger than all of this.
And He is faithful.
Thank you for praying...
Up until this point, all of our doctors' appointments have gone really well. Unfortunately, over the last week, we've had a few things take some turns we were not expecting. Without going into details, I would ask at this time that you say a quick prayer for us, and for Baby Cooley. Our doctors have the advantage this time of knowing my medical history, and of knowing what to plan for. The specialists are using their great brains to figure out a game plan.
It would seem as though the "boring" part of my pregnancy is officially over; now, we play a waiting game of balancing medications, taking tests, and most importantly for me, of resting when I'm at home.
This is what we're praying for, and we'd humbly like to ask you to agree with us:
1. God's Will to be revealed: We are completely relying on Him. We know that He is faithful (Hebrews 10:23), and that He knows what's going on.
2. Wisdom for the doctors
3. That delivery will be put off as long as possible (I'd like to make it to 35-36 weeks, at the earliest)
4. That I can continue working until 34 weeks (So far, so good--I realize this is not the priority, and that God will provide, regardless. I would actually like to keep working as long as is safely possible. If the doctors say "no," I will be obedient...but I'd like to work).
5. That certain medications will not be required.
6. That I can keep my wits about me, and stop being a nervous wreck. It's easy to write about God being faithful; it's much harder to focus on it when I'm getting overloaded in medical details.
And that's it. I realize that I usually write WAY too much, but the details are irrelevant. Besides--I have a propensity to focus on the drama and/or scary emotion of the details, and I don't need to stress myself out with that. There are a few people who have heard my entire emotional gamut in this situation, and they've reminded me of what's WAY more important: God is bigger than all of this.
And He is faithful.
Thank you for praying...
Wednesday, December 12, 2012
All I Want For Christmas...
Last year, around this time, all I wanted for Christmas really WAS my two front teeth (I was having some dental work done)!
This year, as the clock ticks on, I realize that my little Christmas list is about to be forever changed...
I've never really been the kid who sits there and tells Santa everything they want (although I did love to look through the Sears catalog when I was a child). As long as I can remember, I've been happy that someone thought of me. It's what means the most--that someone thought of me, and that they paid attention to me. My mom is one of the best gift-givers around. Even when she misses the mark, there is still no such thing as a bad gift from my mother--probably because she knows me better than anyone on this planet.
God is like that (only SO much more): He knows what we want, and what we need, better than anyone else. His Father's Heart is so intuitive--He knows the request before we make it. He knows the need before it presents itself. He knows the heart's cry before the tears meet our eyes. Much like my mom got to know me really well from the womb, on, the Lord has known us from before conception. He knows our deepest things, good and bad....and He loves us, anyways.
When I was a little girl, all I wanted to be was a wife and a mother; I've blogged about this before. It's my one, genuine heart's desire. There are other things I would like to DO, but nothing has burned into me like what I want to BE. I consider myself a "passable" wife, if not occasionally, a bit of a shrew (okay, sometimes, more than a "bit." Add the "ch.":). I'm not the best housekeeper; I'm terrible with money (perhaps, because there isn't any, LOL!); and I'm nowhere near the cook in reality, that I thought I would be. But I love my husband...and we always make it work, by the grace of God. God takes care of us, even when it's seemed hopeless. I love being married, and I love the institution of marriage. I love it when people say we're a "cute married couple," even when they've heard us argue. David is my other half, plain and simple. Life with him is never dull, and I never want it to end--that's the kind of marriage I wanted, when I was a child.
I have it.
I am a wife--
And I'm about to be a mother...again.. Of course, as I say that, I hear the whispers of "anything can happen. Don't get your hopes up." I hear you, whispers--but I choose to ignore you. Not because I think that David and I are immune to heartache; I know better. I choose to ignore the negative possibilities because I have hope. Because I believe that God is good, regardless of the outcome. Because I believe that He is working miracles, even now.
This time, I get to keep my dream.
There is a genuine fear that rushes through me, in that statement...like, I'm afraid to be that bold. Since Hannah died, I've struggled so deeply with fear, to the point that I was even afraid to admit that I loved my family, because if I admitted it, God would take them away. A missed phone call became the end of the world; a noise in a car engine meant a terrible accident was coming. Not a day went by, for an extended period of time, that I wasn't choked by some kind of fear. Anxiety has, in the past, been a constant companion.
I'm not going to say that I'm free and clear from all of that, but I will say that I've come a long way. I am learning that there is freedom in boldness: Embrace hope. I will be the mother to a beautiful baby boy that will grow healthy and strong, that will go to the nations! He will be a place of worship, and he is dedicated to the Lord--this is the statement I make every day. These are the words that I type in boldness, and the more I say it, the more the fear diminishes.
This is a time of crazy faith, of insane boldness, and of true, genuine recognition of my own insufficiencies...this is a time of putting one foot in front of the other, and of being thankful for every single day.
Christmas this year marks a time of major transition. After 7 years together, this will be our last Christmas with just the two of us. These are the last nights that I have with my husband, alone...as crazy as it sounds, it's a tiny bit bittersweet. I cherish my time with him, even when it's just sitting in front of the TV. I find myself not wanting to leave the house (I've heard this is normal, at this point); I don't want to share him with anyone. I'm cranky, emotional, and clingy--I don't really think David is enjoying my current phase, but I'm not giving him much of a choice. I'm overwhelmed with little tasks that need to be done, and with the daily issues that seem to keep creeping in (for the love of God, can my car stop breaking?!?). Every time I look at the bank account, I fall on my face in exasperation; my calendar at work has exploded, and I only have a few weeks left here, for training, planning, and for covering my leave. I feel like the world is exploding...
But then, I catch my reflection...
Yes, the world is exploding.
But I'm having a baby.
The thing, that they said would never happen?
It's happening.
It's really, truly happening.
I can see it...I can feel it...He's coming.
Anticipation is outweighing Anxiety.
Hope is overcoming Fear.
Walls are falling, and victory is coming...
And I don't think that's just for me.
There are a lot of people out there who are struggling, and in need of a major breakthrough. Whether it's spiritual or physical, you just can't give up hope.
God hears you...He really does...
Don't give up.
There really isn't much that I'd like for Christmas. Although I could still look through the Sears catalog and pick a few things, my taste these days, tends to be a bit more toward the practical: I'd like for my closet to be accessible...for my car to work...for the bills to be paid...
I'd like to spend time with David, without a TV running in the background (that's not always his fault--I'm guilty of this one!)...to hang out with a few friends that I haven't seen lately...to sleep through the night...to have a clean house.
In a few weeks, I'd like to meet the little guy that's currently kicking my desk...I'd like doctors' reports that are miraculously normal. I'd like to have a baby dedication in front of my church, where we all stop to appreciate the wonder of life...I'd like for us all to understand the miracle of our kids.
That's what I want for Christmas...for the New Year. Simple things, for a simple girl...supernatural things, from a supernatural God.
I believe that He cares for us.
I believe that He meets our needs.
I believe that He is worth hoping in...and I hope that you do, too.
I'm sure I'll be back on here before Christmas, but if I'm not, May you have the most wondrous of Holiday seasons...may Hope find you, may your heart be renewed, and may your spirit recognize everyday miracles...Merry Christmas, to you and yours...
This year, as the clock ticks on, I realize that my little Christmas list is about to be forever changed...
I've never really been the kid who sits there and tells Santa everything they want (although I did love to look through the Sears catalog when I was a child). As long as I can remember, I've been happy that someone thought of me. It's what means the most--that someone thought of me, and that they paid attention to me. My mom is one of the best gift-givers around. Even when she misses the mark, there is still no such thing as a bad gift from my mother--probably because she knows me better than anyone on this planet.
God is like that (only SO much more): He knows what we want, and what we need, better than anyone else. His Father's Heart is so intuitive--He knows the request before we make it. He knows the need before it presents itself. He knows the heart's cry before the tears meet our eyes. Much like my mom got to know me really well from the womb, on, the Lord has known us from before conception. He knows our deepest things, good and bad....and He loves us, anyways.
When I was a little girl, all I wanted to be was a wife and a mother; I've blogged about this before. It's my one, genuine heart's desire. There are other things I would like to DO, but nothing has burned into me like what I want to BE. I consider myself a "passable" wife, if not occasionally, a bit of a shrew (okay, sometimes, more than a "bit." Add the "ch.":). I'm not the best housekeeper; I'm terrible with money (perhaps, because there isn't any, LOL!); and I'm nowhere near the cook in reality, that I thought I would be. But I love my husband...and we always make it work, by the grace of God. God takes care of us, even when it's seemed hopeless. I love being married, and I love the institution of marriage. I love it when people say we're a "cute married couple," even when they've heard us argue. David is my other half, plain and simple. Life with him is never dull, and I never want it to end--that's the kind of marriage I wanted, when I was a child.
I have it.
I am a wife--
And I'm about to be a mother...again.. Of course, as I say that, I hear the whispers of "anything can happen. Don't get your hopes up." I hear you, whispers--but I choose to ignore you. Not because I think that David and I are immune to heartache; I know better. I choose to ignore the negative possibilities because I have hope. Because I believe that God is good, regardless of the outcome. Because I believe that He is working miracles, even now.
This time, I get to keep my dream.
There is a genuine fear that rushes through me, in that statement...like, I'm afraid to be that bold. Since Hannah died, I've struggled so deeply with fear, to the point that I was even afraid to admit that I loved my family, because if I admitted it, God would take them away. A missed phone call became the end of the world; a noise in a car engine meant a terrible accident was coming. Not a day went by, for an extended period of time, that I wasn't choked by some kind of fear. Anxiety has, in the past, been a constant companion.
I'm not going to say that I'm free and clear from all of that, but I will say that I've come a long way. I am learning that there is freedom in boldness: Embrace hope. I will be the mother to a beautiful baby boy that will grow healthy and strong, that will go to the nations! He will be a place of worship, and he is dedicated to the Lord--this is the statement I make every day. These are the words that I type in boldness, and the more I say it, the more the fear diminishes.
This is a time of crazy faith, of insane boldness, and of true, genuine recognition of my own insufficiencies...this is a time of putting one foot in front of the other, and of being thankful for every single day.
Christmas this year marks a time of major transition. After 7 years together, this will be our last Christmas with just the two of us. These are the last nights that I have with my husband, alone...as crazy as it sounds, it's a tiny bit bittersweet. I cherish my time with him, even when it's just sitting in front of the TV. I find myself not wanting to leave the house (I've heard this is normal, at this point); I don't want to share him with anyone. I'm cranky, emotional, and clingy--I don't really think David is enjoying my current phase, but I'm not giving him much of a choice. I'm overwhelmed with little tasks that need to be done, and with the daily issues that seem to keep creeping in (for the love of God, can my car stop breaking?!?). Every time I look at the bank account, I fall on my face in exasperation; my calendar at work has exploded, and I only have a few weeks left here, for training, planning, and for covering my leave. I feel like the world is exploding...
But then, I catch my reflection...
Yes, the world is exploding.
But I'm having a baby.
The thing, that they said would never happen?
It's happening.
It's really, truly happening.
I can see it...I can feel it...He's coming.
Anticipation is outweighing Anxiety.
Hope is overcoming Fear.
Walls are falling, and victory is coming...
And I don't think that's just for me.
There are a lot of people out there who are struggling, and in need of a major breakthrough. Whether it's spiritual or physical, you just can't give up hope.
God hears you...He really does...
Don't give up.
There really isn't much that I'd like for Christmas. Although I could still look through the Sears catalog and pick a few things, my taste these days, tends to be a bit more toward the practical: I'd like for my closet to be accessible...for my car to work...for the bills to be paid...
I'd like to spend time with David, without a TV running in the background (that's not always his fault--I'm guilty of this one!)...to hang out with a few friends that I haven't seen lately...to sleep through the night...to have a clean house.
In a few weeks, I'd like to meet the little guy that's currently kicking my desk...I'd like doctors' reports that are miraculously normal. I'd like to have a baby dedication in front of my church, where we all stop to appreciate the wonder of life...I'd like for us all to understand the miracle of our kids.
That's what I want for Christmas...for the New Year. Simple things, for a simple girl...supernatural things, from a supernatural God.
I believe that He cares for us.
I believe that He meets our needs.
I believe that He is worth hoping in...and I hope that you do, too.
I'm sure I'll be back on here before Christmas, but if I'm not, May you have the most wondrous of Holiday seasons...may Hope find you, may your heart be renewed, and may your spirit recognize everyday miracles...Merry Christmas, to you and yours...
Wednesday, November 28, 2012
Moving Forward...but stealing glances back
I never thought this day would come.
I never thought the anniversary of Hannah's death would be met with anything but heavy, heavy grief.
But here we are...
Usually, I approach the time from 10/30-11/28 as kind of a "Monster At the End of This Book" paradigm. I dread it, from October 1st, on; when it hits, it's like a kink in a hose that's let go--there's a flood of sadness that can be pretty hard to navigate through.
This year is so different.
There are those (who are clueless) who will sit there and say that having another baby is some kind of miracle balm that is making this so much better. You're wrong, and I will not hesitate to say that very clearly: You. Are. Wrong.
Having another child does not "fix" the hole that is left when you lose your child. There is, simply put, nothing that "fixes" that hole. The only "miracle balm" is the love of Jesus--that's it. He loves you through the darkest days, and He hold your hand to walk you through the healing process. You're never completely healed, and you never forget where you were; however, you are slowly, but surely, equipped to not only move forward, but to glance backwards without falling into the vacuum of grief. At some point, you stop crying for the pain you went through at the time; instead, you cry for the opportunities you never got to have. That's something that will always hurt, I suppose--not knowing what could have been, mixed with a little bit of wondering what exactly happened, and why?
So, here we are...6 years ago, we said goodbye...
I can walk you through every minute of that day. I can remember the nurses, what I was wearing, how it felt--but I don't want to. Those who were there remember--for some of them, they will never forget. Those memories are not ones that I want to have--they're the ones the enemy attacks me with when I'm at my lowest moments. What he hasn't figured out, though, is that it's those memories that will send me running to my Father faster than anything else. You see, I've learned that there are some things I cannot handle on my own. I have to run to Him, because those things are too big to try and process on my own. He's always faithful to keep me from going under.
Today, I face the "Monster At the End of This Book." I embrace the memories with a strange kind of warm melancholy--yes, that's an intentional oxymoron--and maybe my heart hurts a little more than usual. But I'm okay...It's okay. I've found this place of peace, over the last year, and I feel like I can finally say that I am free from the heaviness that is always associated with this time. I asked David, and my Mom, if that was okay--I mean, is it disrespectful, to live life, and to move forward, during this time? Of course it is--it doesn't make me a bad mother, and it sure as heck doesn't mean that I've forgotten my beautiful Hannah-girl. But it is time...
It is time to move forward, and every year that goes by takes me to another phase of progress. I will always steal glances backwards...but I am far more inclined to look forward to not only my future here on this earth; I am inclined to look forward with far greater hope to the eternity that I have waiting for me...
Happy Angelversary, Hannah-girl--Happy Homecoming! You are loved, and you are in a place that's surrounded by the One Who Loves Us Most. I have no greater hope or healing than that...
I never thought the anniversary of Hannah's death would be met with anything but heavy, heavy grief.
But here we are...
Usually, I approach the time from 10/30-11/28 as kind of a "Monster At the End of This Book" paradigm. I dread it, from October 1st, on; when it hits, it's like a kink in a hose that's let go--there's a flood of sadness that can be pretty hard to navigate through.
This year is so different.
There are those (who are clueless) who will sit there and say that having another baby is some kind of miracle balm that is making this so much better. You're wrong, and I will not hesitate to say that very clearly: You. Are. Wrong.
Having another child does not "fix" the hole that is left when you lose your child. There is, simply put, nothing that "fixes" that hole. The only "miracle balm" is the love of Jesus--that's it. He loves you through the darkest days, and He hold your hand to walk you through the healing process. You're never completely healed, and you never forget where you were; however, you are slowly, but surely, equipped to not only move forward, but to glance backwards without falling into the vacuum of grief. At some point, you stop crying for the pain you went through at the time; instead, you cry for the opportunities you never got to have. That's something that will always hurt, I suppose--not knowing what could have been, mixed with a little bit of wondering what exactly happened, and why?
So, here we are...6 years ago, we said goodbye...
I can walk you through every minute of that day. I can remember the nurses, what I was wearing, how it felt--but I don't want to. Those who were there remember--for some of them, they will never forget. Those memories are not ones that I want to have--they're the ones the enemy attacks me with when I'm at my lowest moments. What he hasn't figured out, though, is that it's those memories that will send me running to my Father faster than anything else. You see, I've learned that there are some things I cannot handle on my own. I have to run to Him, because those things are too big to try and process on my own. He's always faithful to keep me from going under.
Today, I face the "Monster At the End of This Book." I embrace the memories with a strange kind of warm melancholy--yes, that's an intentional oxymoron--and maybe my heart hurts a little more than usual. But I'm okay...It's okay. I've found this place of peace, over the last year, and I feel like I can finally say that I am free from the heaviness that is always associated with this time. I asked David, and my Mom, if that was okay--I mean, is it disrespectful, to live life, and to move forward, during this time? Of course it is--it doesn't make me a bad mother, and it sure as heck doesn't mean that I've forgotten my beautiful Hannah-girl. But it is time...
It is time to move forward, and every year that goes by takes me to another phase of progress. I will always steal glances backwards...but I am far more inclined to look forward to not only my future here on this earth; I am inclined to look forward with far greater hope to the eternity that I have waiting for me...
Happy Angelversary, Hannah-girl--Happy Homecoming! You are loved, and you are in a place that's surrounded by the One Who Loves Us Most. I have no greater hope or healing than that...
Wednesday, November 21, 2012
Catching up--Time for the Cooley's Christmas Adventures!
I guess it's been a week now, since the Day From Hell. It was, too--I think I just hit some kind of nuclear low, and couldn't wrap my head around it. Ever have that happen? You get in a funk, and can't get yourself out, even with prayer? I'm always amazed by how, if we ask for it, Jesus sends us help in the funniest ways. On that day, He sent me a friend who reminded me to get my head out of my rear (she was much nicer than that), and I totally appreciated it. Since then, I've been okay-things are good!
Part of my struggles for the last 8 months have had to do with the fact that my husband was working an opposite shift. I'd be in bed by 8 (I get up at 4); he'd be home at 9:30. So, for the past 8 months, I've only seen my husband on the weekends. It's maddening, especially during pregnancy. It's not only the loneliness; it's the fact that there are nights that I'm so tired by the time I get home from work, that it's all I can do to make myself a bagel for dinner! I've missed having an extra set of hands around the house!! :)
That being said, his schedule has recently changed to where we have a little bit of time together in the evenings. I can honestly say that there is nothing so wonderful as simply sitting on the couch, snuggled in with my beloved, and having him to talk to. I know, I'm being mushy. But I've missed him terribly, and it's so nice to have him around!
This is the time of the year where David and I begin to have a seriously over-packed social calendar. If there's a Christmas event in St. Louis, we're probably planning on trying to attend it! This year, we'll be tackling Faith Church's "Believe" performance; Alton, IL's Transiberian Orchestra Tribute Concert (I've seen TSO live, and Alton's TSO, and loved them both!), Christmas on the Hill, a Community Choir concert in Kirkwood, and Lord only knows what else! Well...that's the plan...We'll see.
Truth be told, getting through the work week is my biggest priority. I need to stay at 40 hours as long as possible, to build up my PTO for my maternity leave. It's pretty tiring--I've already passed up some really cool Christmas adventures (Our Lady of the Snows, in a convertible?!? Argh!) because I just can't handle it. 35 and Pregnant is a LOT different than 28 and pregnant! I'm pretty wore out--not that I'm complaining! Couldn't be happier, really!!!
So, Christmas in St. Louis is something I will be navigating with wisdom. Speaking of, there's wisdom in asking for prayer when you need it. I definitely do!
We've hit the third trimester, which, according to the perinatologist, is the "critical time." Pretty soon, I'll have additional cardiac testing, and he's watching me and baby like a hawk. I need a combination of peace, patience, and more peace--and I need my body to cooperate! He's adjusting my medications accordingly, and I've begun the weekly visits to his office just a little bit earlier than anticipated. So, your prayers are appreciated.
That being said, all is well...We're scheduled to have "official" maternity pictures fairly soon, which I look forward to sharing with you.
I'm thankful for a great many things this Thanksgiving season; one of the things I am the most thankful for, are the friends and family that I know I can rely on for laughter, friendship, and prayers. Have a blessed, wonderful Thanksgiving, y'all!!
Part of my struggles for the last 8 months have had to do with the fact that my husband was working an opposite shift. I'd be in bed by 8 (I get up at 4); he'd be home at 9:30. So, for the past 8 months, I've only seen my husband on the weekends. It's maddening, especially during pregnancy. It's not only the loneliness; it's the fact that there are nights that I'm so tired by the time I get home from work, that it's all I can do to make myself a bagel for dinner! I've missed having an extra set of hands around the house!! :)
That being said, his schedule has recently changed to where we have a little bit of time together in the evenings. I can honestly say that there is nothing so wonderful as simply sitting on the couch, snuggled in with my beloved, and having him to talk to. I know, I'm being mushy. But I've missed him terribly, and it's so nice to have him around!
This is the time of the year where David and I begin to have a seriously over-packed social calendar. If there's a Christmas event in St. Louis, we're probably planning on trying to attend it! This year, we'll be tackling Faith Church's "Believe" performance; Alton, IL's Transiberian Orchestra Tribute Concert (I've seen TSO live, and Alton's TSO, and loved them both!), Christmas on the Hill, a Community Choir concert in Kirkwood, and Lord only knows what else! Well...that's the plan...We'll see.
Truth be told, getting through the work week is my biggest priority. I need to stay at 40 hours as long as possible, to build up my PTO for my maternity leave. It's pretty tiring--I've already passed up some really cool Christmas adventures (Our Lady of the Snows, in a convertible?!? Argh!) because I just can't handle it. 35 and Pregnant is a LOT different than 28 and pregnant! I'm pretty wore out--not that I'm complaining! Couldn't be happier, really!!!
So, Christmas in St. Louis is something I will be navigating with wisdom. Speaking of, there's wisdom in asking for prayer when you need it. I definitely do!
We've hit the third trimester, which, according to the perinatologist, is the "critical time." Pretty soon, I'll have additional cardiac testing, and he's watching me and baby like a hawk. I need a combination of peace, patience, and more peace--and I need my body to cooperate! He's adjusting my medications accordingly, and I've begun the weekly visits to his office just a little bit earlier than anticipated. So, your prayers are appreciated.
That being said, all is well...We're scheduled to have "official" maternity pictures fairly soon, which I look forward to sharing with you.
I'm thankful for a great many things this Thanksgiving season; one of the things I am the most thankful for, are the friends and family that I know I can rely on for laughter, friendship, and prayers. Have a blessed, wonderful Thanksgiving, y'all!!
Wednesday, November 14, 2012
Bringing it full circle...
Someone very wise once told me that if I couldn't write a blog and end it in a way that glorifies God, then maybe I shouldn't put it out there. I've really tried to maintain that position, but it's not always easy.
Sometimes, I just want to wallow in it, darn it. And don't we all? We like our pity parties--we get to be the center of attention, and when no one shows up, it makes our pathetic caterwauling that much more dramatic. It heaps onto our heads, and our pity party gets that much more, well, piteous.
I wonder if God ever looks at us in our hysterics and smiles? 'Cause He knows the moment of self-realization is coming...We'll stop for 2 seconds and realize how ridiculous we look. And then we'll turn to Him like we knew we should have, in the first place.
But for those first few minutes, having a total meltdown can be so cathartic...
I'm finding myself struggling in a lot of ways. Things I'm praying for, seem to be a little stuck; I definitely need a breakthrough in a couple of areas. I just realized that I only have 28 working days until I'm out on leave (working at a university has definite benefits around the holiday breaks); I start weekly doctor's appointments very soon; and my most-recent appointment has left me more than a little on edge. Couple that with making some major financial decisions, trying to get the house in order, having to tell people "no" on various social plans, and feeling like I've been hit with a Mack Truck..."Overwhelmed" is the word of the day.
My usual response to feeling overwhelmed is to have a complete mental breakdown. Not going to lie: dirty baseboards made me cry this week. Looking at my calendar for the next 2 months made me cry this week. Laundry made me cry this week--and it's just the two of us!!!! I'm not proud of my recent inability to keep it together ("Recent?!?!?" some might say. :). I've yelled at my mother (how did I survive that?!?), at my husband (who graciously cleaned the baseboards), and in my head, there's been a non-stop panic attack over every strange abdominal twinge. I'm not doing very well at handing things off to God, for Him to deal with.
I need some things to shake loose, no doubt. Trying to figure out certain things on my own isn't getting me anywhere; making myself lay back and trust God is not happening easily. I have GOT to STOP worrying about EVERYTHING.
Nothing is bigger than God (deep breath).
God loves me (deep breath).
He doesn't want to see us fall (deep breath).
Everything will be all right (deep breath).
This is not the easiest time of the year for me, and in the middle of the chaos, I haven't really taken the time to stop and think about the where/when/how that I normally ruminate on. My daughter's 6th birthday came and went with little aplomb, but maybe it's time for that. Maybe it's time to enjoy the sweet memories, but to focus on what's to come. We will meet again, after all...It's not a "getting over," by any means. It is simply "getting through." Maybe I am on the other side of it, after all. Doesn't mean that it doesn't hurt sometimes--we have finally passed along the last of her clothing, and with that, I feel like the final scab came off. There are definitely scars there, but I think it was a good thing to do. It felt very right, even though it wasn't easy.
Looking back at all of that, knowing how God has carried us through so much, why do I doubt that He will continue to carry us, now? Why do I struggle with that jump-off-of-a-cliff feeling? I know He'll catch me--yet I have fear.
Nothing is bigger than God (deep breath).
If we fall, He is there (deep breath).
He DOES supply our needs, even if it's not in the way we expected (deep breath).
(Okay, ANOTHER deep breath....)
This is not His first rodeo (deep breath).
There are victories to come, and testimonies to tell, that I cannot comprehend (deep breath).
And Everything
Will Be
All
Right.
Sometimes, I just want to wallow in it, darn it. And don't we all? We like our pity parties--we get to be the center of attention, and when no one shows up, it makes our pathetic caterwauling that much more dramatic. It heaps onto our heads, and our pity party gets that much more, well, piteous.
I wonder if God ever looks at us in our hysterics and smiles? 'Cause He knows the moment of self-realization is coming...We'll stop for 2 seconds and realize how ridiculous we look. And then we'll turn to Him like we knew we should have, in the first place.
But for those first few minutes, having a total meltdown can be so cathartic...
I'm finding myself struggling in a lot of ways. Things I'm praying for, seem to be a little stuck; I definitely need a breakthrough in a couple of areas. I just realized that I only have 28 working days until I'm out on leave (working at a university has definite benefits around the holiday breaks); I start weekly doctor's appointments very soon; and my most-recent appointment has left me more than a little on edge. Couple that with making some major financial decisions, trying to get the house in order, having to tell people "no" on various social plans, and feeling like I've been hit with a Mack Truck..."Overwhelmed" is the word of the day.
My usual response to feeling overwhelmed is to have a complete mental breakdown. Not going to lie: dirty baseboards made me cry this week. Looking at my calendar for the next 2 months made me cry this week. Laundry made me cry this week--and it's just the two of us!!!! I'm not proud of my recent inability to keep it together ("Recent?!?!?" some might say. :). I've yelled at my mother (how did I survive that?!?), at my husband (who graciously cleaned the baseboards), and in my head, there's been a non-stop panic attack over every strange abdominal twinge. I'm not doing very well at handing things off to God, for Him to deal with.
I need some things to shake loose, no doubt. Trying to figure out certain things on my own isn't getting me anywhere; making myself lay back and trust God is not happening easily. I have GOT to STOP worrying about EVERYTHING.
Nothing is bigger than God (deep breath).
God loves me (deep breath).
He doesn't want to see us fall (deep breath).
Everything will be all right (deep breath).
This is not the easiest time of the year for me, and in the middle of the chaos, I haven't really taken the time to stop and think about the where/when/how that I normally ruminate on. My daughter's 6th birthday came and went with little aplomb, but maybe it's time for that. Maybe it's time to enjoy the sweet memories, but to focus on what's to come. We will meet again, after all...It's not a "getting over," by any means. It is simply "getting through." Maybe I am on the other side of it, after all. Doesn't mean that it doesn't hurt sometimes--we have finally passed along the last of her clothing, and with that, I feel like the final scab came off. There are definitely scars there, but I think it was a good thing to do. It felt very right, even though it wasn't easy.
Looking back at all of that, knowing how God has carried us through so much, why do I doubt that He will continue to carry us, now? Why do I struggle with that jump-off-of-a-cliff feeling? I know He'll catch me--yet I have fear.
Nothing is bigger than God (deep breath).
If we fall, He is there (deep breath).
He DOES supply our needs, even if it's not in the way we expected (deep breath).
(Okay, ANOTHER deep breath....)
This is not His first rodeo (deep breath).
There are victories to come, and testimonies to tell, that I cannot comprehend (deep breath).
And Everything
Will Be
All
Right.
Friday, October 26, 2012
Freedom to Never Be A "Second Chance"
I started to write this blog a few days ago, when I'd finally hit my limit of well-intentioned but badly-executed responses to my pregnancy. I'm resisting the urge to cut-and-paste the whole thing, and to verbally spew all of the heartache I was feeling that day; however, since it's not an accurate reflection of how I feel "today," I will refrain.
I'm allowed to change my mind; I'm Cassidy Cooley. (That I'm female, on hormones, and pregnant, may factor in, but I'm not going to use them as an excuse.)
Here are the facts of it:
I am, as of this writing, 6 months pregnant with my second--yes, my SECOND--child. I am having a boy. I will tell you his name if I want to, and if I don't, then that's my right.
This child is not a replacement.
This child is not a "second chance."
I had a beautiful baby girl, almost exactly 6 years ago, that died at 29 days of age from late-onset Group B strep with bacterial meningitis.
My daughter was not a mistake; I have never for a second thought she was a mistake, and do not attempt to tell me otherwise. Life is never a mistake.
God had a plan for my little girl.
God does not heal everyone, nor does He want to. Likewise, God does not like to see His children suffer.
That doesn't make sense to me, but it doesn't have to. I will not pretend that I am somehow so entitled that I should understand the patterns of a God Who is so incredible that He makes stars....and lungs...and baby-blue eyes...and dimples.
I will not pretend to understand God's will, and neither should you.
I did not stand in the way of my daughter's healing, and neither did my husband (and don't you dare try to tell me so)...
God is still glorified, even in the midst of our heartaches.
Jesus loves me.
He loves you, too.
This child is loved more than he will ever know; he is hoped for, prayed for, longed for...he is the answer to Hannah/Samuel prayers, prayers prayed so hard that I'm sure people thought I was insane.
This child has been dedicated to the Lord before I ever knew I was pregnant, just like his sister was, and just like his future siblings, God willing, will be.
We live in a sinful, broken world full of disease and corruption. We are guaranteed nothing except the love of God, death, and taxes.
We take nothing for granted, but we pray for everything.
People have said a myriad of things (again, best of intentions, worst of execution). Let me reiterate:
This is not a "do-over." My son is not the chance for us to "try this thing again." GOD DOES NOT NEED SECOND CHANCES, so please don't tell me that this is God's way of "making it up to us." Really?
HE'S GOD. HE DOESN'T OWE US ANYTHING. He didn't "take" my daughter; she simply went home.
Please do not compare this pregnancy to my first, outside of the physical symptoms (which are interestingly different). Please do not compare this child to my first, as he is his own unique individual little self. I'm already discovering this in utero, as he has a whole different set of things that he responds to, than she did (she really, really liked "Proud Mary." I'm still trying to figure out his musical tastes. Seems like he prefers talk radio, like his daddy).
I have found myself repeating the old habit of smiling and nodding when people make their comments. I know they are so well-intentioned, and they're not all wrong. A lot of friends have said, "Gee, you must really be struggling with fear." You have no idea.
Fortunately, for me, God knew this was coming. Not only did He arm me ahead of time; He provided me with amazing resources that can redirect me when the "crazies" come on--you know, those thought processes that try to take over and force you into a full-blown panic attack? Turns out that I know a few people that can relate. My husband, whom I internally visualize as the bumper pads on a bowling alley when I get like that, is an incredible buffer to point me back to the right direction. He's not always gentle about it (ha!), but he's very good at it. I have one person in particular, who has opened herself up to take those panicked phone calls---"I feel like he's dropped--is that normal? Am I okay?!?!?"--and listens, prays, and has provided immeasurable comfort. She's been in my shoes. I've avoided most secular music since I found out I was pregnant; turns out, that's been good for me. It's forced me to fall in love with all sorts of new-to-me Christian music, and to remember the beauty of the old stuff (Steven Curtis Chapman, anyone?). It's really good fuel for the defense. Yes, I struggle with fear, but I feel really insulated right now...God really does give us grace for times like these.
Granted, if I were to abuse that, and feed myself full of medical reports or data, I'd probably be apoplectic. I've stopped looking things up (Dr. Google, You're Fired!), and am relying on what I already know/questions to the real doctor, etc. My doctor's been fantastic at explaining all of my crazy questions (feel sorry for them--I'm surprised they don't know my phone number by heart), and that's been a big help. It's so different than my pregnancy with Hannah-I feel listened to, and that gives a lot of peace.
One of my friends is a prolific writer. I mean, she writes the stuff I wish I wrote; she says it with grace and skill that I wish I had; and even though we never see each other, I live vicariously through her pen. She reached out to me the other day, and asked how I was doing. She knew there was a certain measure of anxiety that I must be feeling; rather than focus on that part of it, she sent me a list of Scriptures that countered it.
THAT was incredible. That's the kind of stuff that is manna from Heaven--God sends those kind of people with those kind of answers even when I'm not looking for it! It's just how He takes care of me...
So, all of that being said, I'm about to find myself in a few social situations that have me feeling very anxious (what am I saying? All social situations make me anxious. I cover it well--generally--but yep--I'm a closet-hermit), and I'm trying to mentally prepare myself for it. The holidays are coming, for one, and depending on which side of the family I'm hanging out with, anything can (and will) be said. I'm terrifically opinionated, but that doesn't mean that I stick up for myself very well. I'm going to have to buck up and do it.
I have a responsibility to this child to not allow people to speak things over him that are anything but uplifting.
I have a responsibility to this child to never allow him to think he is a "second chance."
I have a responsibility to this child to give him an environment that is free of my irrational/rational fears.
I have a responsibility to this child to never open the door for him to think that God failed...
To never him think that God dropped the ball...
To never make him think that God killed his sister...
To never make him think that God is to blame.
I have a responsibility to this child to let him get the flu without reacting with hysteria...
To let him scrape his knees when he falls...
To let him cry when he's sad...
To teach him that God is great,
That God is, above all, Good.
My friends and family have a responsibility to this child to do the same.
This child...my son...He is his own little person.
He is nobody's "second chance,"
And God doesn't need redemption.
He never failed.
Hannah's life, and her death, are independent of his life, and one should affect the other as little as possible, in both application, and in perspective.
I will not see myself, or my son, influenced in any other way. I can't say that I think this will be easy--it hasn't been, so far--but it is doable.
Consider your intentions, before you state that I'm having my "second chance" baby. Put yourself in my shoes--what are you really saying?
Sometimes, a simple "Congratulations! I'm happy for you guys!" is really all that needs to be said. :)
I'm allowed to change my mind; I'm Cassidy Cooley. (That I'm female, on hormones, and pregnant, may factor in, but I'm not going to use them as an excuse.)
Here are the facts of it:
I am, as of this writing, 6 months pregnant with my second--yes, my SECOND--child. I am having a boy. I will tell you his name if I want to, and if I don't, then that's my right.
This child is not a replacement.
This child is not a "second chance."
I had a beautiful baby girl, almost exactly 6 years ago, that died at 29 days of age from late-onset Group B strep with bacterial meningitis.
My daughter was not a mistake; I have never for a second thought she was a mistake, and do not attempt to tell me otherwise. Life is never a mistake.
God had a plan for my little girl.
God does not heal everyone, nor does He want to. Likewise, God does not like to see His children suffer.
That doesn't make sense to me, but it doesn't have to. I will not pretend that I am somehow so entitled that I should understand the patterns of a God Who is so incredible that He makes stars....and lungs...and baby-blue eyes...and dimples.
I will not pretend to understand God's will, and neither should you.
I did not stand in the way of my daughter's healing, and neither did my husband (and don't you dare try to tell me so)...
God is still glorified, even in the midst of our heartaches.
Jesus loves me.
He loves you, too.
This child is loved more than he will ever know; he is hoped for, prayed for, longed for...he is the answer to Hannah/Samuel prayers, prayers prayed so hard that I'm sure people thought I was insane.
This child has been dedicated to the Lord before I ever knew I was pregnant, just like his sister was, and just like his future siblings, God willing, will be.
We live in a sinful, broken world full of disease and corruption. We are guaranteed nothing except the love of God, death, and taxes.
We take nothing for granted, but we pray for everything.
People have said a myriad of things (again, best of intentions, worst of execution). Let me reiterate:
This is not a "do-over." My son is not the chance for us to "try this thing again." GOD DOES NOT NEED SECOND CHANCES, so please don't tell me that this is God's way of "making it up to us." Really?
HE'S GOD. HE DOESN'T OWE US ANYTHING. He didn't "take" my daughter; she simply went home.
Please do not compare this pregnancy to my first, outside of the physical symptoms (which are interestingly different). Please do not compare this child to my first, as he is his own unique individual little self. I'm already discovering this in utero, as he has a whole different set of things that he responds to, than she did (she really, really liked "Proud Mary." I'm still trying to figure out his musical tastes. Seems like he prefers talk radio, like his daddy).
I have found myself repeating the old habit of smiling and nodding when people make their comments. I know they are so well-intentioned, and they're not all wrong. A lot of friends have said, "Gee, you must really be struggling with fear." You have no idea.
Fortunately, for me, God knew this was coming. Not only did He arm me ahead of time; He provided me with amazing resources that can redirect me when the "crazies" come on--you know, those thought processes that try to take over and force you into a full-blown panic attack? Turns out that I know a few people that can relate. My husband, whom I internally visualize as the bumper pads on a bowling alley when I get like that, is an incredible buffer to point me back to the right direction. He's not always gentle about it (ha!), but he's very good at it. I have one person in particular, who has opened herself up to take those panicked phone calls---"I feel like he's dropped--is that normal? Am I okay?!?!?"--and listens, prays, and has provided immeasurable comfort. She's been in my shoes. I've avoided most secular music since I found out I was pregnant; turns out, that's been good for me. It's forced me to fall in love with all sorts of new-to-me Christian music, and to remember the beauty of the old stuff (Steven Curtis Chapman, anyone?). It's really good fuel for the defense. Yes, I struggle with fear, but I feel really insulated right now...God really does give us grace for times like these.
Granted, if I were to abuse that, and feed myself full of medical reports or data, I'd probably be apoplectic. I've stopped looking things up (Dr. Google, You're Fired!), and am relying on what I already know/questions to the real doctor, etc. My doctor's been fantastic at explaining all of my crazy questions (feel sorry for them--I'm surprised they don't know my phone number by heart), and that's been a big help. It's so different than my pregnancy with Hannah-I feel listened to, and that gives a lot of peace.
One of my friends is a prolific writer. I mean, she writes the stuff I wish I wrote; she says it with grace and skill that I wish I had; and even though we never see each other, I live vicariously through her pen. She reached out to me the other day, and asked how I was doing. She knew there was a certain measure of anxiety that I must be feeling; rather than focus on that part of it, she sent me a list of Scriptures that countered it.
THAT was incredible. That's the kind of stuff that is manna from Heaven--God sends those kind of people with those kind of answers even when I'm not looking for it! It's just how He takes care of me...
So, all of that being said, I'm about to find myself in a few social situations that have me feeling very anxious (what am I saying? All social situations make me anxious. I cover it well--generally--but yep--I'm a closet-hermit), and I'm trying to mentally prepare myself for it. The holidays are coming, for one, and depending on which side of the family I'm hanging out with, anything can (and will) be said. I'm terrifically opinionated, but that doesn't mean that I stick up for myself very well. I'm going to have to buck up and do it.
I have a responsibility to this child to not allow people to speak things over him that are anything but uplifting.
I have a responsibility to this child to never allow him to think he is a "second chance."
I have a responsibility to this child to give him an environment that is free of my irrational/rational fears.
I have a responsibility to this child to never open the door for him to think that God failed...
To never him think that God dropped the ball...
To never make him think that God killed his sister...
To never make him think that God is to blame.
I have a responsibility to this child to let him get the flu without reacting with hysteria...
To let him scrape his knees when he falls...
To let him cry when he's sad...
To teach him that God is great,
That God is, above all, Good.
My friends and family have a responsibility to this child to do the same.
This child...my son...He is his own little person.
He is nobody's "second chance,"
And God doesn't need redemption.
He never failed.
Hannah's life, and her death, are independent of his life, and one should affect the other as little as possible, in both application, and in perspective.
I will not see myself, or my son, influenced in any other way. I can't say that I think this will be easy--it hasn't been, so far--but it is doable.
Consider your intentions, before you state that I'm having my "second chance" baby. Put yourself in my shoes--what are you really saying?
Sometimes, a simple "Congratulations! I'm happy for you guys!" is really all that needs to be said. :)
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