It's Time

Three weeks ago, we found out we're having a boy! He looks healthy so far, but I'm having a hard time simply believing and hoping that everything will turn out according to the way I want. I want this baby to make it to my due date alive, survive the labor and delivery process, and be totally healthy and normal, where my worst problems might be colic or regurgitation issues or a bit of jaundice, but I know that I'm not guaranteed anything. I have a more in-depth ultrasound scheduled for next week with a perinatologist. My regular OB assures me that although this pregnancy is technically considered high-risk, he is treating me as a low-risk patient with the exception of referring to Dr. Maher, a consult which I requested.

When our 17-week ultrasound showed male anatomy, my heart sank. I had hoped so much for a little girl to step into the empty nursery that Quinn wasn't able to use, to wear her special clothes and to use the girly things I had made and bought for her. In a bizarre sort of way, I thought having another girl would keep me from having to sort the baby room, keep me from going through memories that I didn't want to face, and allow me to deny how great a loss we have.

Our gigantic church yard sale is coming up next month, and with that in mind, something clicked inside me. Without a lot of forethought, I walked into Quinn's room, opened up drawers and started removing all the baby girl things. Pretty onesies, pink sleepers, cute pacifiers, hair bows, tights--all on the floor. I opened her wardrobe doors, and the pink hangers went flying. I soon called Helen to help me, and we admired all the little clothes that she had worn as a baby. Somehow I was able to handle all those precious things without sitting in a puddle of tears. I had angry moments and sad moments, but overall it felt good.

And then I saw this:Quinn's sweet, sweet dress that my mother-in-law made for her. Ruth had picked out the fabric, and I chose the cut, smocking pattern and colors of embroidery floss. She used antique buttons from my stash to close the back of the dress. It was and is precious, and it's not going anywhere.
At the MOPS Convention in Nashville, I had the privilege of hearing Mary Beth Chapman speak about the loss of her five-year-old daughter. Those were tender moments, but believe me, I saved my ugly cry for meeting her at the book signing. Oh yes. She said that her grief had been like a dark forest that she didn't want to leave, for fear of leaving Maria behind. God showed her that all around the forest was a beautiful meadow of flowers, and that Maria wasn't in the forest, but in the light, joy-filled meadow. Leaving her intense darkness behind was actually a step toward her daughter. She also said that you never get OVER it, but you get THROUGH it.

Here's the thing: Heaven is real, and Quinn is there with Jesus. She is not living in my memories. She actually is alive in Heaven, right now. As someone told the Chapmans, my future with her is definitely going to be longer than my past with her! It's those truths and the grace of God that help me move forward in hope. Knowledge of an eternity in Heaven helps my situation fall into perspective.

So I do wait in hope for this new baby boy, with the confidence that God's grace and compassion are perfectly sufficient for me in any situation. (And we're still stuck on the name!)

Rain

Wow. This is embarrassing! This poor blog has certainly not been a priority lately. I'm still thinking of posts, finding I have a lot to say, but nothing to say. I want to write things perfectly, but can't figure out the right words. Some of my thoughts are worthwhile, but most of them are forgettable.

I did write something lately, requested by Jason's uncle Lloyd, to be read at our Kauffman reunion at Bethel Camp in Kentucky. Other than having to publicly read something I wrote, I had a great time catching up with uncles, aunts and cousins, meeting their kids and eating fabulous food from the camp kitchen. Here it is:

Wednesday I was outside, huge Tupperware bowl at my feet, picking blueberries as fast as I could. Suddenly storm clouds covered the sun, thunder sounded in the distance and a cold wind whipped through the trees. The blueberries danced out of reach. I grabbed onto leaves, fiercely determined to steady the waving branches, angry at the timing of the weather and angry at the thought of losing blueberries to yet another rainless storm.

It had been so dry for so long. When our regional summer weather pattern of localized pop-up afternoon thunderstorms had begun, it was our fields, our property, that got missed. Hope would arrive in the shape of cumulonimbus clouds, but it was others around who reported their relieved joy, measured quantifiably in tenths of inches. After a time, I felt my heart hardening each time the sky darkened. Certainly we had been praying for rain. Certainly it seemed our request fell on uncaring ears. "God, have you forgotten us?!" I had to ask, knowing the truth, but feeling something different. I wanted to leave when the storms blew up. I wanted to drive somewhere, anywhere, so I wouldn't have to be home when the clouds left our property rainless.

We want to protect ourselves against physical disaster, and to some extent we can. We wear seatbelts. We eat our vegetables. We own insurance policies, for crying out loud. But if only there were some kind of emotional insurance, to protect our hearts from being damaged or shattered. We live to please God. We make choices to honor Him. We expect His blessings, but we don't expect His blessings to come in a package of pain. Ironically, James says, "Consider it pure joy...whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything."

The evening of the blueberry picking did end in rain. I was thankful, but in a begrudging sort of way. I felt like the spoiled child who had pitched a fit, manipulated parents, gotten what she wanted and then not enjoyed the undeserved result.

I felt guilty because I had been refusing the trial of drought. Instead of embracing God through my fear and receiving joy in His truths, I was choosing bitterness and hardheartedness.

The truth is, that even if the farm dries up and all is lost, God will still be in control. He will still be available. His presence is far more important than our present circumstances, though He cares about the details of our lives. The far greater tragedy would be success on the farm and loss of access to Him.

_____

We traveled to northern Indiana, my home area, after our reunion. While we were there, it rained buckets back home, so much so that Jason and all his farmer friends joked that we should have left a long time ago.

When I wrote this, there was more than weather on my mind. We are expecting another baby, due January 6th! While we are incredibly excited about the pregnancy, we are also scared out of our minds that it will once again end with no baby in our arms. I wish there were some way to protect our hearts from being smashed to bits. But as one of Jason's cousins articulated, "It's the risk you take by choosing to love."

One thing of which I am particularly fearful is that people might think we have moved on from our loss, and this is our replacement for Quinn, and that everything is neat and tidy in our emotional lives by now. Just the thought of that makes me so angry, and it's one reason I've delayed announcing my pregnancy. So please pray for us as we choose to love this baby, no matter what the outcome may be. We are choosing to trust God, our perfect Father, who has perfect knowledge and perfect love for us.

New Dress!

I love my new non-maternity dress that fits over my big pregnant belly! After the baby comes, I'll just cinch that belt up a little tighter, and the gathers on the skirt will be a clever disguise for the postpartum pudge. Ahem.

I used some super-cheap Walmart clearance knit fabric from my stash that I had bought to practice sewing knits. I've used mostly woven fabrics in my short sewing life, and it was time to learn a new skill. This probably wasn't the easiest pattern to use for that purpose, but it worked. I had used it before, so at least I wasn't struggling with a new pattern for an even bigger headache. I used some non-stretchy iron-on interfacing in the yoke (or whatever you call that part of the bodice other than "neck opening") and the waistband. It helped the fabric keep its shape in those areas where I didn't want the dress to stretch out of proportion. Most importantly and most restrictively, I tried not to rush through the project in an afternoon.

I was 29 1/2 weeks in this picture, but I'm finally posting it when I'm 33 weeks along.

Announcement of Great Importance

Surprise!!!! We're expecting a baby!!

FAQs:

Q: So, are you done?
A: Did you just ask me that?! You mean with having kids, right? I don't really know how to answer that. I love big families, but I'll just smile and say I really don't know!!

Q: You figured out what's causing this yet?
A: Umm, well, Grandma W. said all Grandpa had to do was hang his pants over the end of the bed and she ended up pregnant, but we don't have a footboard, so......

Q: When are you due? How far along are you?
A: Sometime around the beginning of September. Haven't been to the doctor yet. I think I'm around 10 weeks.

Q: How are you feeling?
A: Gross. I cannot stand the smell of coffee, and a whiff of chocolate chips just about sends me over the edge. I'm also taking lots of naps.

Q: Have you told your kids?
A: Yep! They are so excited about the baby in Mommy's tummy. Owen has plans to ride his bike to the hospital. Helen is ecstatic to be a big sister again. Jack doesn't know what we're talking about.

Q: How far apart are all your kids?
A: Owen: 24 months and 2 weeks: Helen: 19 1/2 months: Jack: probably about 26 months: new baby! We didn't want them too close in age, you know.

Q: Any names picked out?
A: We have a policy about spilling names! We'll tell you when the baby is born.

Q: What about your marathon plans?
A: Yeah, that! When I have the energy, my runs really make me feel great. I forget about my queasy stomach while I'm ticking off the miles. I'm doing the half marathon in Knoxville at the end of March; Jason is doing the whole and I'm so proud of him!

Q: What sustains you? You must be exhausted!
A: I am! I trust that God is sovereign, his plan for our family is good, and that this baby has a purpose. So far He has used our children to change us for the better, so there must be more change needed!

Where are the words

I am supposed to be in labor, either in pulsating agony with the human experience or in numb participation with modern medicine, I hadn't quite decided yet. I am supposed to be holding this new baby in my arms by lunchtime. Owen and Helen are supposed to be at Grandma's house, eating cookies and listening to stories. Jason is supposed to be flipping through channels in the hospital room giving me an occasional back massage.

Two minutes before we walked out the door to our scheduled change in life, the phone rang. A labor and delivery nurse--they needed to bump me back because of another situation that had arisen. They'll call back around 9 at the earliest.

What?!

Oh well. At least now I can...
...cut up and freeze the okra I picked in the garden last night.
...finish another baby blanket for a gift.
...wash one more round of dishes.
...vacuum one last time, again.
...fold the clothes in the dryer and put them away, again.
...sneak a contraband bowl of Fruity Pebbles because doggone it, I'm hungry.

39 weeks--where's the ice cream?

Tried a new homemade ice cream recipe for Father's Day.

Homemade ice cream.....GOOD.
Homemade peanut butter.....GOOD.
Chunks of Reese's peanut butter cups.....GOOD.

You can find the recipe here. I doubled the batch and added more milk--almost to the freezer's fill line.

Soooo.....my dad must have wanted a new outfit for Father's Day. He chose a hospital gown. He's in the hospital recovering from a ruptured appendix and resultant surgery. Just got off the phone with him to tell him that he absolutely must get up and walk around today. He was a little worried about exposing his hind end.

Sweet corn day is scheduled for Wednesday. So now we get to *anticipate* for two whole days prior. Lots of sticky, hot work. Loads of corn in the freezer.

1 week and 1 day away from my due date. Absolutely cannot have the baby this week. Am much too busy.

Chicks and things

When I was young, one of my treasures was a molded plastic comb in the shape of a seahorse. In my girlish mind, seahorses were at the top of the COOL list along with unicorns, rainbows and holographic stickers. As an adult, the last informative TV program I saw about seahorses left me thinking they were kind of gross.

I’ve been thinking about seahorses lately, but only because the male is the one who bears the offspring. In the middle of my pregnancy with this third child, I glance sidelong at Jason and think…..male pregnancy…..now that would be a good thing. In your best Schwarzenegger accent, think It’s not a tumor.

I know God had a perfect plan in his creation of mankind, but in my human weakness I grasp for total experiential sympathy from the husband. Not that Jason is mocking me, but he looked at me this morning and said with a goofy grin, “Nice overalls.” Smack. Maternity pants are always falling down, needing a constant hitch-up, and when yesterday my thumb mashed through the crotch fabric in my favorite jeans from all the hitching up, this morning I accepted defeat and unearthed the denim overalls from college days. I have also weathered his smirks from rushing to the bathroom for relief from a couple teaspoons of pee.

And the middle-of-the-night angst…a pregnant lady must arise at least once a night to pee. Imagine the agonizing dilemma a simple cold brings. Nasal congestion transforms me into a mouth-breather at night, which completely dries out the oral cavity. Getting a glass of water in the middle of the night guarantees another trip to the bathroom. So I lie awake trying to work up the spit to go back to sleep.

But then there are all the nice things about carrying a baby—a new wardrobe, snacks full of protein, the baby’s kicks and somersaults that are wonderful to feel. Jason has no concept. Because every time you grab his hand for him to feel the baby kick, the baby stops moving, silly thing.

Anywho, in other news, the kids and I took a field trip to Central Farm Supply and picked up a surprise.

The peeping that occurred on the way home was almost too much for the kids to stand. The chicks were placed into a small vented box which was taped shut, and they loudly chirped their confusion. Owen and Helen couldn't wait to get their little hands on those balls of fluff.
The poor chicks wised up to my children after a day. They now run from grabbing hands and don't hesitate to jump from astounding heights to get back to the warmth and safety of the large box in the garage.
And here's one more picture, fresh this morning, proving Owen is not scarred from his fire jammies, although he did protest them loudly last night.

Good News...