I never thought I'd be where I am today.

Don't get me wrong, it's not like I had a thousand different plans for my life and somehow I ended up where I least expected to be.  I always knew that I wanted to get married - and married young.  And, somewhere around the age of 17, I felt a calling to be a wife and a mom.  Out of all of the numerous courses my life could have gone, God chose one specific one that was the best for me would bring Him the most glory. 


I hoped, but never put much stock on my dreams actually coming to reality.  More often than not I have come to that crossroads where I realize that my dreams are not what God is calling me to do.  Instead of actively pursuing what I thought I should be doing with my life, I waited on the Lord.  I enrolled myself in Bible College and immersed myself in learning His Word.  Although one would reason that Bible college is the best place for a young Christian to be, God surprised me by leading Joey to propose to me.  I finished only one year of college (instead of the full three or four) and nervously awaited starting my life as a wife, wishing I could know exactly what that life would look like.

That was two years ago today.  TWO. YEARS!  I can hardly believe it.  In some ways, it feels like yesterday.  In others, it feels like it was ages ago.  I mean, we've lived in 4 different "houses" (I'd rather not get into that at this moment), our son is almost ELEVEN months old, and I'm almost 4 months pregnant.  Who knew we'd "accomplish" so much in our first two years of marital bliss?

God knew.  Oh, I am so thankful that He knew, that He knows.

My husband is pretty much my second self--not because he's like me and oh I get so much more done in the day when there's TWO of me!  No, he's still his own person.  But that person is so intwined in who I am.  He is my other half - the counterweight to my argumentative, easily offended nature.  He is God's gift to me - a mirror to hold out to myself.  He is the one on whom I am to dote all the days of my life.  He is the amazing father that I always thought he would be, and that's something I get to observe and enjoy daily.  He means more to me than any other person in the world.  He is my best friend.

I'm assuming that no one really wants to hear the plethora of mushy things I could add to this post.  But it is our anniversary, this is my blog, and it is a rather momentous occasion - and therefore it was IMPOSSIBLE for me to refrain from providing you with some sort of reading material on this day.  You know, just so I can look back on it some day in the future and reminisce.  


And, on that note, I'll spare you the novel I could right.

wordless wednesday

growing

It's a day early, but I'm pretty sure it'll look exactly like this tomorrow.  

And, look, you can still see my feet! 

surprise! he's cute!

The Cuteness is so fun these days.

He scrunches up his nose like a little piggy and "snorts" when he really wants to get a smile out of ye olde parents.  Building on that skill, I have been teaching him to make the sound of the letter "j".  He now says (on occasion) "ju" while making a very prominent "o" shape with his lips (that also makes him look like a little piggy).  Seeing how he has "da" down pat, I'm predicting that "judah" will be his first word.  He's pretty much brilliant.

He is also quite good at shaking his head "no".  He struggles to resist doing it at all times, for he finds it very fun.  But when I sternly tell him "noooo" to something, he'll often look at that thing and shake his head firmly, then walk (with the assistance of various objects) away.

Right now he is lying on a pillow on the floor.  It is soft and he can flop down on it safely.  He is discovering that it is FUN to cuddle (yay for me! the incessant cuddler!) and takes many opportunities to collapse into my arms.  It is not fun, however, to have arms around you holding you back.

It is also fun to go SPLAT on the floor while crawling.  Nothing can predict this turn of events.  He'll be crawling along happily one moment, and then the next throw his knees and arms out from under him and giggle at his sheer brilliance.

Making as many noises as possible with his little lungs and mouth is also quite entertaining.  He clicks, he smacks, he kisses, he squawks, he jibbers, he jabbers, he oodle-doodles, he dada's, he "haaaaaloooows", but he WILL. NOT. mama.  *tear.  I'm sure it will come, yes?

Speaking of things to come, he has not yet taken his first steps.  He can walk along quite happily while holding just one of my hands, but that confidence shatters as soon as I let go.  He's still in the "crawling is faster! crawling is faster! crawling is FAST.ER." phase, and thus learning a new skill seems absolutely  unnecessary.  Joey thinks it will happen this month (which is quickly shrinking away), and I've got dibs for next month.  Just watch - he'll probably be one of those determined ones that doesn't feel the need to try until he's 18 months old.  Whatevs.

My little piggy is still being swaddled when he goes to sleep.  This began when he learned to stand in his crib, and I've been a bit hesitant to release him from his bounds.  He gets out of them on his own anyways, and I kind of think he doesn't mind the security a good swaddle provides.  It's winter (and drafty!), so the extra warmth isn't minded.

He is currently ripping apart and consuming a receipt from Sobeys.  I really meant to keep that.  I'd better stop him before it disappears and I find it... ahem... later, if you know what I mean.

granted the mysteries

As I was reading this morning, it dawned on me that the very fact that I know God and understand such things as His holiness,  my inborn and undeniable nature of sin, who Christ is and why it was necessary for Him to die for my sins is an amazing gift of grace that I do not deserve and could never earn.  I realized that I should be praising God every day simply because He has chosen to impart such wisdom and insight to me.  That is no small thing!

Many men and women desire to be wise and learn all they can about philosophy and religion and how to "better" themselves, and yet their eyes are never opened and their ears never hear despite their great wealth of worldly wisdom.  Few people understand just what "God is holy" means, few acknowledge their sinful nature, and few really know the importance of Christ.  These are foreign concepts to the majority of the world.

Jesus makes it undeniably clear how blessed those that understand such things are in Matthew 13 - the beginning of His parables.  To His disciples He said, "To you it has been granted to know the mysteries of the kingdom of heaven, but to them it has not been granted... ...But blessed are your eyes, because they see; and your hears, because they hear.  For truly I say to you that many prophets and righteous men desired to see what you see, and did not se it, and to hear what you hear, and did not hear it" (Mt 13:11,16-17).

Here we are, with the full word of God at our disposal - the very mysteries of God written down for all the world to see - and still people do not see nor hear.  God, and only God, can reveal these things to the human heart.  Thus I see all the more that I am blessed beyond comprehension and in the presence of an Almighty God who has bestowed grace on one so underserving as I.

he was trying to tell me something

when he crawled in there all by himself...

... but what could it have been?

I guess I'll never know.

Psalm 39

 I said, "I will guard my ways
 That I may not sin with my tongue;
 I will guard my mouth as with a muzzle
 While the wicked are in my presence."

 I was mute and silent,
 I refrained even from good,
 And my sorrow grew worse.

 My heart was hot within me,
 While I was musing the fire burned;
 Then I spoke with my tongue:

"Lord, make me to know my end
 And what is the extent of my days;
 Let me know how transient I am.

"Behold, You have made my days as handbreadths,
 And my lifetime as nothing in Your sight;
 Surely every man at his best is a mere breath.

"Surely every man walks about as a phantom;
 Surely they make an uproar for nothing;
 He amasses riches and does not know who will gather them.

"And now, Lord, for what do I wait? My hope is in You.
 Deliver me from all my transgressions.
 Make me not the reproach of the foolish.

"I have become mute, I do no open my mouth,
 Because it is You who have done it.

"Remove Your plague from me;
 Because of the opposition of Your hand I am perishing.

"With reproofs You chasten a man for iniquity;
 You consume as a moth what is precious to him;
 Surely every man is a mere breath.

"Hear my prayer, O Lord, and give ear to my cry;
 Do not be silent at my tears;
 For I am a stranger with You, a sojourner like all my fathers.

"Turn Your gaze away from me, that I may smile again
 Before I depart and am no more."

almost wordless

I die.

a topic that might make some readers uncomfortable

Throughout the Cuteness' pregnancy, there was one thought that filled my mind:

"I'm having a BEBEEEEEEEEE!"

I could hardly focus on anything else other than that (quite obvious) reality.

This time, it's much different.  I know what it's like to give birth to, care for, and live with a newborn.  I have an awareness of just how exhausted being a new parent can be.  I've gone through several parenting books/methods and now know that all babies are different.  And I know what it's like to make up your mind to breastfeed and feel like you've failed as a woman when it doesn't turn out the way you expected.

This time, there's one thought that's been all-pervasive:

"I can't wait to give breastfeeding another try!"

I'm excited, but at the same time nervous that I'll fail at it again.  I know what you're thinking, "you didn't fail!", but I know things I could have done differently.  I know that my confidence was lacking.  And I know that I was far more stressed out about it than my body would have like (think stress = drying up like an old cow).  I want to fight all my apprehensions and come out the victor!  I even have a really sweet nursing cover that keeps me all decent, lets me maintain eye contact with the baby AND lets her (or him) breathe.  Believe me, that combination is hard to find.  I'm SO ready for this!

Ok, maybe not ready yet.  But I'm doing all that I can to make sure I give baby Nutmeg the best possible start.  I praise God that Judah rebounded from his weight issues so quickly and that his health problems have all disappeared.  That in itself is a huge miracle.  As will this next baby be.  And, if everything works out like I dream it will, that will be a miracle, too.

the part about our baby that I never told you

I've been rather contemplative lately.  Judah is now 10.5 months old, and I'm already gearing up to have another little baby.  I'm stuck somewhere between believing that he is still a tiny little baby and knowing full well that he's well on his way to being a (semi) independent toddling boy.  I have these moments when I can almost smell that newborn scent and feel that warm little body curled up on mine.  It feels like it was yesterday.  I look into those eyes and remember the very first sight I had of him - all fresh and confused, lying there on my abdomen, looking straight up into his mommy's eyes.  Those big, beautiful, blue eyes that still look up into mine and tug on some of the most tender heartstrings I have ever known.

I've never really given a detailed account of Judah's birth on this blog, but I'm about to remedy that.  He was born at 1:02 in the morning after a full day of contractions and labouring mostly in a hotel room.  When we finally decided it was time to go to the hospital, I was 8-9 cm dilated.  This surprised everyone because my contractions were still between 4 and 5 minutes apart.  It was 9:00 at night.  The last few hours were painful, exhilarating, terrifying, and seemingly never-ending.  In two hours I was checked, and I was still only 9 cm dilated.  I nearly gave up at this moment.  It was too late for an epidural, too late for a c-section, too late for medication of any kind.  I had been in the transition stage for at least two hours and was not any closer to being ready to push.  Despair set in rather quickly, and as soon as it did, my midwife was there offering me "laughing" gas, doing everything in her power to  keep me from giving up.

That's when it took a turn for the better.  As soon as the gas (I really wish I knew what to call it) had entered my system, my body took control.  I heard someone making a ghastly grunting/moaning/yelling noise and someone saying, "That's it! That's it! Let your body do it!  PUSH!"   It didn't take me very long to realize that I was doing the former and my midwife the latter.  I opened my eyes to see Joey's calm, steady gaze fixed on me.  There was a twinge of excitement in his eyes, and all the love in the world.  I focused on his face - the one dearest to me in the whole world.  I may have been slightly intoxicated, but I could finally feel the terrific power of my body and the miracle that was taking place without my stupid "reason" getting in the way.  I finally realized that I was simply just a vessel that God was busy working a miracle through.

I've already described that beautiful little face I beheld mere moments after he had been born.  And he was even more beautiful than even my loftiest dreams had prescribed.  My body quickly relaxed, and I felt the effects of the previous 27 hours.  I had lost a lot of blood, and my back was no longer functioning like a back should, but it was all eclipsed by the miracle of fresh life.

All of a sudden I understood the consequences of sin in a way I never had before ("I will surely multiply your pain in childbearing; in pain you shall bring forth children" Gen 3:16), and I was aware of how great a salvation Christ bought for me with His blood.  I knew that I had brought forth my own son into a sinful world, and his sinful nature would well up not from "uncommon" misdeeds, but  from the very core of who he is.  Christ became more precious to me than ever before.

I will never forget those first sleepy and wonderful hours.  I watched as my husband - my second self - cradled his new baby boy, his son.  I cried big, hot tears of joy.  I thanked my midwife a billion times over.  And, finally, I held my little child to my bosom and felt that incomprehensible bond between a new mom and her new child.  By 3:00 all of the nurses were out of our room, Judah was tightly swaddled in a plexiglass cart next to my pillow, and Joey was settling down in a reclinable easy chair for the rest of the night.  Exhaustion completed it's task with all speed, and a heavy, dreamless sleep stole my consciousness.

But it was not a dead sleep.  Some time later the tiny whimperings of a confused and scared (and rightfully so) baby  roused me from my slumber.  I could not have had above two hours of sleep in the last 24 hours,  but all of my exhaustion seemed to have dissipated.  I stroked Judah's tiny little head until he fell asleep, with me following suit soon after.

The morning came too quick, but thankfully both Joey and I had the thrill of discovering our new infant to keep us alert.  We munched on lots of peanutbuttery toast (ok, maybe that was just me) and counted his toes, stroked his downy-smooth skin, breathed in his scent, and coveted his warmth.  In short, we fell desperately in love with him.

The rest of our hospital stay lasted 2.5 days, mostly owing to the jaundice that had gripped little Judah and my midwife's unwillingness to let us go until she was certain he was on the mend.  I am so grateful for her!  All the same, that stay was emotionally draining.  We were wonderfully cared for, but out of our comfort zone and desiring the comforts of our own bed and time to ourselves.

Those first days were so precious, so foreign, so trying, so good.  They were the hardest days I have yet to experience in my short 21 years of life.  I thank God for His goodness and provision.  I thank Him for my baby boy.

It amazes me that I have been blessed to experience this miracle all over again.  I look forward to meeting baby Nutmeg with great anticipation, but also with much anxiety.  I do not expect my second birthing experience to happen exactly as Judah's did, and that's the bit that scares me.  And yet, even though the unknown is Big and Ominous, I've got knowledge that gives me hope.  It is this: God is Sovereign, and He knows.  There is nothing more reassuring than that.

am I ready?

I'm pregnant, but does that mean I'm ready for this?

No, not quite.

But, thankfully, I will grow (ba dum ch!) into it!

Because, right now, I'm kind of preoccupied with this:

 

which is definitely ok with me. 

all in a day's work

The Cuteness takes his job very seriously.  

What is this job, you ask?

Simply leaving a wake of destruction wherever he goes.

As you can see, he's quite proficient.

As for me, I sigh and mourn the energy I will have to sacrifice to clean up his mess.   

Because, you know, I'm pregnant.

Just in case you were wondering.

baby nutmeg

This was me, roughly two weeks ago.  It must be stated that this was during Christmas holidays - and we all know what that means.  So, it's pretty fair to assume that baby bump is quite possibly affected by Christmas goodies.  But I admit to nothing.

Yes, I am definitely starting to grasp this whole pregnancy thing - again.  I've found it more difficult to come to terms with it this time around, mostly because I have a 10 month old who always keeps me on my toes.  I have much less time for the copious amount of naps I took when I was pregnant with Judah.  I get what I can, but I'm not hurting for it.  

I'm not entirely sure I really believed that I was pregnant until yesterday when I heard the little heartbeat through the Doppler.  If there is one word I can label this pregnancy with, it would be fear.  I have been unnecessarily afraid that I have miscarried and am carrying a dead child, or that I will miscarry in the very near future.  There haven't been strong signs of either of these things, but nevertheless, I fear it.  It has been a struggle to continuously put my faith in God.  Do I doubt God's goodness?  His provision?  His sovereignty?  My head tells me NO.  But I have the suspicion that my actions are belying what I've said I believe.  All I wanted to quell my fears was to hear that heartbeat.  

At my 10 week appointment the midwife could not find it.  She told me that finding it at that early of a gestation was kind of like a 50/50 chance.  I wasn't too broken up about it, but disappointed that I couldn't have that security.  We booked another appointment for 12 weeks, 6 days.  She assured me that finding it would be pretty much a given at that point.  And so, I waited.

Until yesterday.  My midwife (we'll call her L) did her best to find that little heartbeat.  She kept thinking she had heard it, but could not get a solid reading.  Finally, she called in another midwife.  "Sometimes all it takes is another person to look!" she quipped optimistically.  The other midwife (who happened to be the person that delivered Judah) came in and said "This little one's just being quiet like Joey!  Now, don't start getting worried, because I know that's what you want to do."  And then she had a go at it.  

I'm not sure how long she took, but it was long enough for her to ask, "You've been having all of the signs and symptoms of pregnancy?" to which I gave a firm nod.  This was rather worrisome.  The only reason she would ask that would be if the baby had...

Whomp whomp whomp whomp whomp whomp whomp whomp whomp whomp whomp...

"There it is" she said as a smile and a breath of relief affected all who were in the room.  It was a healthy little heartbeat, going steady at 160 bpm.  My baby was not dead inside of me.  In fact, my abdomen is filled with miraculous life.

That was my first contact with our unborn child.  Baby Nutmeg (as we're calling him/her) will continue to grow and grow and grow inside of me, a complete miracle and an absolute blessing.  I already know that Nutmeg's existence is an act of sovereign God.  His/her continued growth and development will be no less of a miracle, as will the life (s)he lives on earth.

wordless wednesday

a ransomed sinner

I am what I am, but that's not to be,
For all that I am opposes Thee.

My heart is diseased, my will is defiled.
The sin that I crave shows that I'm not Your child.

My righteousness proves to be nothing but rags
Soaked in my hatred, my pride, and my rage.

Wretched body of death that I call "what I am"!
I cannot escape, but pretend that I can.

"Nobody's perfect!" - but how can that ease
A spirit that's tormented by sinful disease?

What I need is a miracle, Someone to reach in
And rescue me from this vile body of sin.

I've tried to perfect, but it all comes to naught
Because sin is my nature, and with it I'm fraught.

Who's there to rescue? Who hears my plea?
The wage is death for the sin that is me!

Thanks be to God - for He's made a way
To pay for the debt that it's right that I pay.

He gave up His son, His Jesus, His self;
He walked God and man, giving up his great wealth.

The death should be mine, but he hung on a tree,
Satisfying God's wrath at dark Calvary.

The wages of sin is death - and He died - 
The God of creation cruelly crucified.

My sins are atoned, the rags white as wool -
Not of my own merit; that's what's saved my soul.

But death did not defeat the Lord of all things.
He rose from the grave and remains King of Kings.

I am what I am, but that's not to be,
Because Jesus Christ has ransomed me.