I Will Trust in You

Well, being a mommy of a toddler, being very pregnant, and starting a new from-home job does not bode well for personal blogging.

But today I needed to write.

I was just listening to my new favorite song, "Trust in You," by Lauren Daigle. Find it here if you haven't heard it. I invited Isabel to dance with me, and as I held my firstborn in my arms, studying her toothy smile and listening to the lyrics, my eyes welled up with tears as my soul welled up with joy.

I had been so afraid. So afraid to do labor again, even though my last experience was a good one. So afraid to lose sleep. So afraid this baby will be a screamer. So afraid Isabel will feel neglected. So afraid I won't be able to be a good mommy of two.

And then I heard this:

"Letting go of every single dream
I lay each one down at Your feet 
Every moment of my wandering
Never changes what You see

I’ve tried to win this war I confess
My hands are weary I need Your rest
Mighty Warrior, King of the fight
No matter what I face, You’re by my side

When You don’t move the mountains I’m needing You to move
When You don’t part the waters I wish I could walk through
When You don’t give the answers as I cry out to You
I will trust, I will trust, I will trust in You!

Truth is, You know what tomorrow brings 
There’s not a day ahead You have not seen
So, in all things be my life and breath
I want what You want Lord and nothing less

When You don’t move the mountains I’m needing You to move
When You don’t part the waters I wish I could walk through
When You don’t give the answers as I cry out to You
I will trust, I will trust, I will trust in You!

You are my strength and comfort
You are my steady hand
You are my firm foundation; the rock on which I stand

Your ways are always higher
Your plans are always good
There’s not a place where I’ll go, You’ve not already stood

When You don’t move the mountains I’m needing You to move
When You don’t part the waters I wish I could walk through
When You don’t give the answers as I cry out to You
I will trust, I will trust, I will trust in You!

I will trust in You!
I will trust in You!
I will trust in You!"

God has already gone before me. He will give me what I need each day. I need not worry about tomorrow because God is already there. Even if I have a colicky baby, even if Isabel feels neglected, even if I am overwhelmed, even if I don't get enough sleep: I will trust in God, because he is trustworthy, and his plan is perfect.

This was what I needed today, as I look towards this {hopefully} last week of pregnancy, towards my world changing yet again. But the God who doesn't change stands with me.

I hope you'll find peace and comfort in that knowledge as well.

And here's hoping that the next time I write, I'll be writing my second daughter's birth story!

xoxo, A

And If Not, He Is Still Good {Our Heartbreak}

I'm an open book. I have always felt that if whatever I have endured can help others and point them to Christ, then I would talk. I would write.

So today, I write about our heartbreak.

On Wednesday, we were having a baby. On Thursday, we weren't.

Mike and I enjoy being parents more than we expected. Isabel is an immense source of joy in our lives. And she's such a "good" baby. She's full of spunk and sass and never. stops. moving, but she sleeps 12+ hours at night plus naps, and she is affectionate and funny. It's no surprise that we wanted to add to our family, sooner rather than later.

We didn't have trouble conceiving Isabel, so (foolishly) we thought it wouldn't be an issue to have another. Four months later, and I was still waiting. I know that's not a long time to wait. Not in the grand scheme of things, and not compared to how long many women wait. But every month feels like a lifetime. On our timetable, we wanted children close together. On our timetable, we wanted another child before the end of the year. But our timetable is not God's perfect timetable.

I thought another month had ended in failure. And then nothing happened. So on Sunday morning, I took a test. It was positive. Faintly positive, but positive. I was pregnant. I shook with emotion. I was so grateful. We wanted this baby so badly!

I'll never forget how Mike tenderly touched my belly before church. It took him months to do that the first time. But now he knows fatherhood. He knows the richness of new life.

I took another test in the afternoon to be sure, and it was still faintly positive. I will also never forget Mike's response to that test. "Yep," he said, "You're knocked up." Crude, but true.  We told our parents and siblings, but Mike wanted me to wait to tell friends since we found out a week earlier than last time. I was only about 4 weeks, due in mid-December. I took another test a couple days later since it had been faint. Still faint, but still positive. So this was real.

For almost a week, I carried a secret much like I carried that seed-sized baby. I wrote a letter to the baby and started planning, because I'm a planner.

And then Thursday morning I woke up and I was bleeding. In my heart, I knew.

I had to be normal. I had a photo shoot, I had to take care of my child, I had to be out in public and go to the doctor. So I had to be normal. Even though the bleeding got worse, I had to be normal.

I went to the doctor and it didn't look good, though he wouldn't give me a definite answer until the blood work results came in the next day.

But I had to be normal because Isabel needed me to be normal. I sang "He's Got the Whole World in His Hands" to her when she fussed in the car, as usual. But this time it meant so much more. When I bathed her, I sang "Great is Thy Faithfulness," as usual. But this time, my voice wavered. Not because I didn't believe it, but because I did.

When Mike came home and Isabel was down for a nap, I finally let go of normal and cried as my husband held me. We cried together for the baby we would never get to hold, for the future that we wouldn't get to see. For the life that had ended so very soon. It was a life. It wasn't a mass of tissue. It was a life.

That's why I have to write about this. I need others to know that this baby existed. There is no other evidence besides three positive pregnancy tests in a garbage bag. I need people to know that this baby lived and died, because it matters.

A miscarriage is not something you think will ever become a part of your story. You don't stand there on your wedding day, dreaming of your future and imagine weeping with your spouse over a lost pregnancy. But it happens, and it happens so often. I know so many women (and subsequently men) touched by this kind of loss.

Today, our little family of three walked up to the doctor again. As I heard an ultrasound machine and  a healthy heartbeat in the room next door, my doctor told me it was "absolutely" a miscarriage.

My baby had absolutely died.

And I was absolutely crushed.

Some who read this might say, "you were only 5 weeks when you miscarried. That's not as bad as _________." It's true that I can't even begin to imagine the pain of a late miscarriage. But that doesn't negate my pain. For the short, almost week I knew about this child, I loved it. It was real, and anyone who has ever been pregnant for any length of time can tell you how real it gets, quickly.

Some might say, "just be grateful for the child you have." To them, I say this:

{source}

I am unspeakably grateful for my daughter. But that doesn't mean I didn't want this child too. This child was wanted. This child was prayed for.

Why am I writing this while the pain is so fresh? I need to. I need to tell the world that this baby existed. And I also need to tell the world that God is still good. All yesterday, I kept thinking, "if not, he is still good." In the words of my father, "why not me?" The Lord gives and takes away. His plan is perfect, and I trust it. I trust him. Blessed be the name of the Lord.

Strangely, it isn't hard to still feel blessings during this time. One is the wonderful, caring group of friends who are taking care of us, praying for us, and checking up on us. It is so nice to have a church family to lift us up in our darkest moments. I am so thankful for the body of Christ.

I am thankful for articles like THIS that make me cry but make me so thankful for God and his Word to us {seriously the best article I've read on this topic}.

So this is our heartbreak. We are alright, but we are grieving. I am in physical pain too. But we are convinced that our God is still good and worthy of praise. We would also covet your prayers.

{source}

xoxo, A

The Roller Coaster Ride

This is such a strange time. The waiting. The not knowing. The knowing it's going to happen, but when? But how? The only thing I can compare my feelings to right now, at 39.5 weeks pregnant, is my experiences with roller coasters.

I'm not a huge roller coaster fan in general. I have my favorites because I can trust them to not drop and leave my stomach feet above my head, or make me feel like I'm going to fall straight out of the car. I love Thunder Mountain Railroad at Disney. I trust it and it's a no-fail good time. I like Space Mountain, too, but that's a little scarier since it's in the dark.

But this is how I feel before getting on a new roller coaster that I haven't tried before: I have this nervousness, because I have no idea what's going to happen. As I sit in the car and it click-click-clicks up the hill towards the drop, I know that I can't make this ride stop. I have to follow through. The drop is inevitable-- imminent, even, and it will be both exhilarating and uncomfortable. I will survive this ride, I know in my head, and I may even get in line to get back on the ride once it's over. But while I approach the drop, my anxiety of the when, how, and how awful will it be is all I can actually feel.

And that's what it's like at 39.5 weeks pregnant. I can't get off the ride or make it stop. I have to follow through. But I don't know when or how "the drop" is going to happen, or how exhilarating or awful it will be. But I know I'll survive and I know I'll probaby do it again. Can you tap into the feeling you get waiting for the ride? Do you know what I mean?

It's very strange. I look for every clue that labor might begin. Acid Reflux? Here we go! Nausea? It's go time! And yet here I sit, typing, not in labor, just hoping in a nervous way that we'll get this party started.

Let's hope this is my last post before Little Miss Arbia arrives. And I'll let you know how the roller coaster went.
xoxo, A

The Journey Thus Far

Week 8 - week 33... hopefully only about 5 or 6 more pictures left to take!!
xoxo, A

Opinions Are Like Armpits

I've always been very opinionated. Just ask my mom. Or ask my husband. He definitely knows. Somehow he married me, even though he knew that.

It’s easy to be opinionated about things with which one has experience. For example. I know by experience that Dannon Oikos is clearly the superior Greek yogurt, and Chobani isn’t even in the running. I mean, Oikos's key lime pie flavor or lemon meringue flavor can be little tubs of creamy heaven in the middle of a mediocre day, while Chobani just makes me twist my mouth into a sour, disappointed pucker.

But childbirth? How do I have opinions about childbirth before I've ever experienced it? It’s such an awkward place in which to find myself: I am supposed to develop a birth plan (naturally with the wisdom of others as my guide) when in reality I have no frame of reference for the kind of pain I will be experiencing. I don’t know what will come out of my mouth. Heck, I don’t even know everything that will come out of my body (please God, please not poop)!

For some first-time moms it’s easy, because they have long-standing opinions about medicine and organic everything. I don’t, really. I mean, I believe in being healthy and being good stewards of everything with which we’ve been entrusted, but I also can’t afford to live like Adam and Eve in a blissful garden of organic fruits and vegetables, so sometimes I buy canned food (*gasp*).

I did my own research and I talked with women I trust. I searched my own conscience and talked with my husband, and I think I’ve become opinionated about childbirth. Well, at least I have developed an opinion.

But I must admit my fear of all of that going out the window when push comes to shove, quite literally.

For the sake of accountability, I’m telling the world: I’m attempting natural childbirth. You may snort and say, “Doesn’t every woman attempt it?” And you’d probably be right. I did register for an epidural, so it’s quite possible I’ll crumble. I’m not anti-medicine in any way, and I do believe medicine was developed for a good reason and can be put to good use. But here is how I came to my opinion that attempting natural childbirth is the safest and most beneficial way for me to go: I figured that though childbirth is now painful as a result of sin, my body was still created to go through this process, and God has graciously made me strong and healthy. Secondly, countless women across generations and all terrains have given birth naturally and survived… and then have done it again… and again… Sometimes the medication can interfere with the process and complicate the delivery. Sometimes. Natural hormones are released when they aren’t covered by medication, and those hormones both bond mom to baby and help aid in the recovery process for both mind and body. 

So my plan is to labor and deliver naturally unless I am laboring for an excessive amount of time and need to rest in order to continue, or if there are unforeseen complications that would require medical intervention. Women who have medicated childbirths are not in any way failures. But if my body is doing what it’s supposed to be doing, I feel like I won't have an excuse for needing medication. Would it provide comfort? Definitely. But there’s this macabre part of me that thinks that feeling the full force of labor and delivery might help me better understand the weight of the curse of sin, and is it totally weird that I kind of want to understand that better in order to appreciate God's grace more?

So I've become opinionated (for myself, for the record. I don’t care what anybody else does in labor and delivery. Your “business” is your business) about something for which I have zero frame of reference. Let’s see if about a month from now I write a post that goes a little something like this:

“So about natural childbirth… it works in theory, like Communism...”

But I’m hoping that by the time I actually experience childbirth, I can look back and say “I took a leap of faith. I made a choice. I followed through. And now you’re here.”

And I wanted to end it there, poignantly, but I just have to take a minute to address how opinion everyone else gets when women are pregnant. The last thing a first-time pregnant mom needs is a bunch of women telling her what she must or must not do based on their own personal experiences. Every woman is different. Every pregnancy is different. Just because one woman gave birth naturally doesn't mean I will be able to handle it. Just because another woman sings the praises of medication doesn't mean I will need it. Opinions are fine, and even helpful, but when they become dogmatic "YOU HAVE TO HAVE AN EPIDURAL BECAUSE IF YOU DON'T YOUR BUSINESS WILL RIP OPEN IN A VIOLENT EXPLOSION OF GORE!!!!" statements, that's simply not helpful. 

What is most helpful is informed support. Tell a pregnant woman what labor is like, let her make her own decision, and then choose to believe in her and support her, even if it's not what you would choose. Because this is her, not you, and you had your chance to do it the way you wanted. Now it's her chance, and she needs to know that other people think she can do it. Chances are if she would listen to your opinion, she would also like you to be her cheerleader.

xoxo, A

Baby Update

This is for those who never hear about my pregnancy. I try not to be obnoxious about it. So here's your baby update.

I'm 27 weeks now, nearing the end of my second trimester. I can feel Baby Girl kicking throughout the day. I must admit, at first, I wasn't sure if I liked the feeling. It was alien and intrusive. There were just organs in my body and now there was a human being, poking me from the inside. While the miracle of life certainly beautiful and I'm very thankful for it, let's not pretend that it isn't weird.

But now, I find it comforting. I've gotten used to it, and it reminds me that she's okay in there.

Some of my friends who don't have children yet might wonder what this feels like. I will tell you. It isn't like people told me: little ticklings from the inside, magical little bumps, like baby unicorns prancing in your uterus... okay maybe nobody explained it that way, but they do explain it with that postpartum fondness that somehow erases all things bizarre, uncomfortable, or gross about pregnancy.

I vowed to never have postpartum rose-colored glasses, but it's already started. I do remember feeling gross all the time for about a month or so in my first trimester... but I don't really remember how bad it was. That's God's grace, I'm sure. And it must be the same grace that puts those rose-colored glasses on after childbirth, too. But I digress.

Baby kicks. They feel like that horrifying gurgling that happens in your gut shortly before you spend some quality time in the bathroom. I'm sorry if that's totally crass, but that's really what it feels like a lot of the time, at least until the baby gets bigger. That's probably why women often mistake the feeling for gas at the beginning. When they get a little bigger, well-- it feels exactly like what you'd think it would feel like if something the size of a head of lettuce with elbows and feet were squirming around inside your belly.

I just started seeing her move from the outside of my belly, and that's even weirder. Thankfully (and this may be the only time I've preceded a statement about my fat with the word "thankfully") I have layers of padding to hopefully prevent this:

{source}

*shudder.*

That's really all that's happening on the baby front right now. I'm still sleeping okay, but I find myself very hungry, very often.

And I find that the belly rubbing I used to make fun of all the time is something I do now. It's instinctive. Besides the fact that my belly kind of itches, it's the closest I can come to giving physical affection to Baby Girl, and it also shows others that there's a baby in there and it's not just fat. Don't judge me.

I've got plans for the nursery, but there isn't much I can do at the moment without extra time and extra help. Fortunately, my parents and brother will be here next week and there will be a flurry of activity! Stay tuned for pictures when it's all done.

And stay tuned, because this is my last week in my twenties. I'm pretty sure I'll have to write about entering my thirties. I'll need the therapeutic outlet.


xoxo, A

It's a Girl!

It's a girl. :)

After waiting for what seemed like forever but was actually 15 weeks, we finally got to find out the gender of our little one.

I don't know if there has ever been a time where I've waited with as much anticipation. It was different from moving or getting married, because there was nothing I could do about it. I've heard it said that finding out the gender of your child is one of the few true surprises in your life, and I can say with certainty that it's true. It didn't matter what old wives' tale I heard-- there was no way for us to know until that ultrasound.

As I drove to my appointment, I thought about what I would want to teach my child, depending on its gender. If it would be a boy, I'd want to teach him to respect women, keep his eyes, mind, and body pure, and to be a diligent worker. If it would be a girl, I'd want to teach her to be comfortable with her body, have a strong, witty mind, and respect herself.

I felt such nervous anticipation! Honestly, Mike and I thought it might be a boy. I don't have any reason for that, and not even that motherly hunch some get. We just thought it might be. And truthfully, we hoped for that, because we want to make sure the Arbia name carries on. We were excited and prepared for either, however, knowing that the child we have is the precise child God has picked out for us.

We saw her cute little profile, and it kind of took my breath away. The last time I saw her, she was a tiny little gummy bear with wiggling legs. Now-- now she really looked like a little person. The technician called her strong and scrappy. She showed us her working heart, strong spine, and how she'd grab her feet with ten little toes. We thought she'd never tell us. Until she did.

I grabbed Mike's hand and my eyes started to tear up. I didn't make a sound, but somehow the technician knew. She passed me a tissue. I couldn't help but get misty eyed: we could finally call our baby "she," which is infinitely more real than "it." And she is ours.

I'm halfway through the pregnancy now. It's nice to have direction, not just for planning purposes, but for dreaming purposes. Dreaming of this little girl and who she'll be, what she'll look like, what I'll teach her... now it feels real.

I'm sorry for the post entirely about the baby, but wow... I just had to share today's emotions.
xoxo, A