My Baby Doesn't Know I Have a Job

Ahh life. You busy little thing. 

When I restarted the blog back in April, it was during my quiet season for work. As I’ve mentioned before, I have a small business that I run from home. It’s a seasonal job so there are months in the year when I don’t have any projects I’m working on and then there are other months when I get to immerse myself in super fun creativeness. I like the change of pace. It’s nice to have seasons that are vastly different. 

However, now that the little cogs of my business are once again moving, it may mean that my blog posts will become bi-weekly (or even monthly). 

I wish I had a more definitive answer, but honestly I’m figuring this out as I go. Last year I took on way too much in all areas of my life, so I am trying really hard to have a better balance. However, the busyness of last year WAS a bit of an exception because we sold our house and lived with my in-laws for six weeks and THEN moved into our new house (all with a 3.5 and 1.5 year old). Add in the normal responsibilities of work and raising children and life was pretty crazy. We were too busy. 

When winter finally came and my work slowed, I felt God ushering me into a season of rest. I finally slowed down and experienced life at a much healthier pace. It was very eye-opening. We were now in our new home and no longer living out of boxes or spending every extra second going to a showing. I don't like to be that busy. I think we all have different levels of busy that we want to have in our lives, and the important part is figuring out what is best for you and your family. Are you putting too much on yourself? Are you taking time to just be? To enjoy something you love? During my season of rest I finally learned the importance of self care. Sometimes you just have to stop. Oftentimes the blog has been a form of self care for me. It’s something that feeds my soul and rejuvenates me. But as my work begins to pick up and my belly continues to grow to epic proportions, I don’t know what self care will look like for me this time around. Last week I touched on how much different this pregnancy has been compared to my other two. To twist a T. Swift lyric, “I’m feelin’ thirty-two oooo ooo” and you guys, instead of writing the next blog post I may just need to take a nap. But like I said earlier, I really don’t know yet what the future will bring. I hope I can continue to spill my thoughts in this space, but if I can’t make that happen every week, that’s ok too. 

Recently, I was packing up my work bag and about to head out the door for a few hours to complete a job. My son saw me heading towards the door and ran after me inquiring about where I was going. I told him I was going to work but I would be back soon. He froze and stared at me wide-eyed and then yelled, “You don’t go to work! Daddy goes to work!” I laughed and realized that the last time I left the house to go to work, he was too young to remember it. I thought it was super cute and realized that my season of starting work again would be something that wouldn’t just affect me. We would all have to adjust to it. 

If you read this blog every week, thank you. I’m looking forward to figuring out what the right pace is going to be going forward. And once I figure that out I will let you know. 

So, if there comes a Thursday and you don’t see my inner monologue ramblings pop up, know that I’ll be back. 

Sending a plethora of virtual hugs to you and yours,

Shantastic 

My Baby is Riding Waves

Goodbye first trimester. I won't miss you at all. You weighed me down and thoroughly kicked my butt. I will greatly welcome trimester number two and hope that I never see you again. So many times when I was feeling like barfing or just wanting more than anything else to crawl into bed and sleep for three days, I would catch eyes with one of my kids and go, Oh. That's why this is all worth it. This is all so worth it. Don't forget that Shan. Underneath all this nausea and fatigue is a new little life. He/She is peacefully riding those waves of sickness like a boss, growing like crazy and patiently waiting for the day to be born. 

It has been a huge relief to finally be able to explain to my kids why I haven’t had as much energy as usual. So far my kids have adjusted beautifully to the news of their new sibling. I have had to give quite a few excuses to my daughter for why we can't do all the fun adventurous things she would like to do and I was a bit worried that she would start to get frustrated with me. One day she offered up the idea that I push them in the double stroller all the way to the creek so they could throw sticks in the water. Normally, that idea would have been met with enthusiasm and encouragement and we would have packed ourselves up and been on our way. But in my current state, the thought of pushing them anywhere in anything made me want to sob, run away, and hide in my bed. So, I had to think fast. I quickly said 'Orrrrr what if we bring the ball pit outside and put water in it??' I was thinking that way she would get something fun and different and I wouldn’t have to walk further than ten away from where I was standing at that moment. Perfect. Thankfully she bought it and squealed with delight. I’m trying so hard to keep them engaged and occupied but also know that sometimes popcorn and a movie at 10:30 in the morning will not ruin them. They will be fine. 

Now that I can explain to Grace WHY I can’t do certain things anymore, I’m pleasantly surprised that she hasn't seemed resentful at all about it. Kids really are resilient. Yesterday morning I woke up and, once again, felt like I might be on the losing end of a nausea battle. I got the kids some breakfast, forced myself to eat something, and then just had to lay in the fetal position on the couch. I had promised the kids we would do bath time after breakfast (they really super love taking baths) so my daughter was confused why I was heading in the opposite direction of the bathroom. I told her I needed to lay down for a few minutes because my tummy was hurting. I assured her that after I rested then we would be off to bath time. Instead of whining and complaining, she gently curled herself next to me and put her head on my shoulder. She got it. I was so proud of her. After about ten minutes of resting, it felt like a switch was turned off in my stomach and I suddenly felt better. Of course I still felt the fatigue and exhaustion of pregnancy, but the roaring waves of nausea suddenly settled. I even felt this little bit of 'oomph' to get myself up and get my kids to the bath they were looking forward to. Once I got them both sudsing up in the tub, I stood and glanced out the bathroom window. My eyes soaked in the scene of our lush backyard and I let the relief of a calm stomach encircle me. I no longer felt like I was going to throw up. As most of you know, when you feel nauseous, the moments following when you feel normal again are so comforting. It's so lovely to not have your tummy be in turmoil. My eyes continued to sweep across our yard and the creek beyond and I started to thank God for this reprieve from my morning sickness. Then, the thought struck me. I wondered if someone had prayed for me and that's why I had felt better so instantaneously. With prayer, sometimes you never do find out if someone has prayed for you or not. But I felt content with having hope that maybe someone out there had lifted me up and that was why I felt so much better. I happily shrugged and thought that maybe I would never know, and that was ok. The sound of loud shrieks and laughter from my kids snapped me out of my thoughts and I turned to see them laughing uncontrollably. I couldn’t suppress the smile that engulfed my face as I watched them playfully splash each other and enjoy the warmth of the water. 

Later that day when my husband came home he asked right away how I was feeling. He had asked me the same question when I woke up that morning and I had tried to put on a tough facade and said 'I'm just ok… but I'll be alright.' I had a feeling that he could see through the brave face I was trying to put on. When he asked me again at the end of the day, I told him that I had actually started out the day feeling really icky and then all of a sudden the nausea totally went away. He smiled and said, 'That's great Babe because I was praying for you all morning.' 

The power of prayer.

I had someone tell me once that he thought we shouldn’t bother God with our small requests when there are so much bigger things that God has to take care of. But I think God cares about it all. I care about the big AND small things with my kids. I want to delight in them as they do big and exciting things like go to school for the first time. And I also care deeply about the small things, like watching them giggle as they enjoy each other’s company. God cared about my small thing too, enough to heal my morning sickness and allow me to enjoy watching my kids splash around in the tub instead of missing it because my head was hanging over a bucket. 

God cares about it all.

Blessings,

Shantastic 

My Baby is a Kumquat

"Hey Mom, remember how you told me to pray and ask God if we could have another baby in our family?'' An enormous smile erupted on my face as I thought, Ok, she is the cutest thing ever. Then, I nodded. Yes, I did remember encouraging her to do that. ''Well guess what?!?” she replied, “God said YES! He told me yes in my heart that we can have another baby!! And...it's gonna be my sister!!' At this point, I burst out laughing. I couldn’t help it. Still shocked at her decisiveness I said, ''Well sweetie, if God does give us another baby it might be a girl, or it might be a boy. Would you be ok if it was a boy?'' She didn't hesitate with her answer and said ''Noooo no. If it's a boy we'll just say Hi God. You actually gave us the wrong baby. Here you go! Can we have our baby girl now?’'

Well, she was right about the first part. When this conversation happened I was 5 weeks 4 days pregnant. I had only just taken the pregnancy test about a week before. My husband, Seth, and I decided to wait until I was 10 weeks to tell the kids, but my discerning little girl figured it out right away. Over the next few weeks we had many (many) hilarious conversations in which she kept telling me that she was so excited about the baby in my tummy. One afternoon I was just a little over six weeks and feeling terribly sick. I was resting on the couch while I watched the kids play in the living room and mostly just focusing all my energy on not throwing up (again). As Grace danced around the room in her typical Gracie way, she fluttered over to me and plopped herself at the foot of the couch. She had the biggest smile on her face so I grinned back, tilted my head, and raised my eyebrows as if to ask what she was smiling about. She caught on to my question and exclaimed, “I’m just SO excited about my baby sister!!” In one smooth motion she lifted my shirt just barely past my belly button and kissed my tummy. Then as quickly as she had arrived, she bounced back off towards her toys, completely unaware that I was frozen, wide-eyed, and had nothing but shock on my face.  

So here I am. 10 weeks. My Baby is the size of a kumquat (whatever that is). Sealed inside that tiny fetus are the hopes and dreams of completing our family. There’s a line in my favorite movie, About Time, where the main character is trying to decide whether he and his wife should try for a third child. He contemplates for a moment and then says, “You know, my dad always said he wished there had been more of us.” When I heard that line my body tensed and I subconsciously leaned in towards the screen holding my breath. Is that how I would feel if we decided to stop at two children? Would I have always wished there had been one more? To test these prompting questions as to how I would feel about stopping at two kids, I pictured myself dropping off my youngest, Emmett, at his first day of Kindergarten. As I walked back to the car would I feel an overwhelming sense of freedom and accomplishment? Would I even be a little relieved that my season of life of being a full time stay-at-home mom was now over? In my mind, I saw myself climbing into my car and instead of feeling ready to throw myself into the next season of life, I felt lonely. Unfinished. I glanced to the backseat, saw it was empty and my heart sank. As I tried to figure out what these emotions meant, I pictured once again dropping off Emmett at school for the first day and this time I left the building holding hands with another child of mine. A lively toddler who was skipping along and singing some made-up version of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. I bundled this last little one into the car, wiped a booger, kissed a forehead, and took off from the parking lot with a feeling like, yes, this is what it was supposed to be. That third kid was supposed to be there with me.

Very soon after I had these revelations I retold them to Seth. I already knew that he was open to the idea of having one more child, but we hadn’t yet confirmed that this was the path we felt God leading us toward. When I finished telling him my story he kept his head down and I saw the slightest smirk begin to curl on his lips. He then slowly looked up at me and said, “You know, to be honest I really have always pictured us with three.” 

That was the moment we decided to start praying for God to bless us with another baby. We were a bit surprised that initially God’s response was, “wait”. It wasn’t a yes or no, it was wait. To greatly fast forward this next section of our lives, we had been told to wait because God led us to sell our home and purchase a different house. The entire process took nearly a year and after we took a few months to settle into our new house, God then answered our heartfelt question with a yes. We actually found out we were pregnant when we were on our anniversary vacation back in June. (see that post here ----> My Babies' Mom was on Vacation) What a fun gift that was to find out on our trip! We got to sit and relax on the paddleboat in the afternoon and suggest potential baby names. Our mornings were spent sipping coffee on the deck and talking about how our kids would adjust to this new addition. We didn't get interrupted every five seconds, we didn’t have to fight to have time alone to talk and dream. It was very special. 

So...my little girl was right. We asked God for another baby, He said yes, and we are so thankful. Obviously, it’s too early to know if she was right about the baby being a girl, but we are thinking we will probably have to find out the gender so that we can prepare her. I think the cupcake reveal where there’s pink or blue on the inside might be the best way to go. That way if it’s a boy, maybe we can salvage her broken heart with chocolate and frosting. 

Now that our secret is public, may I ask something of you? As you know, life is a gift and it is fragile. Will you please pray for us and for this new little one? Being pregnant is definitely a huge blessing and a very beautiful thing. But it can also have its moments where fear and uncertainty threaten to cloud our focus. 

Please pray for us as we begin this new journey of being a family of five. We are thrilled beyond words and feel blessed beyond measure. 

Blessings,

Shantastic

My baby doesn't let go

Wow. It has been super fun (and maybe just a teeny bit scary) to be back in the blogging world! If you have been following along with me over the past few weeks, thank you. Thank you for joining me on this wonderful world wide web of ramblings. I’m so glad you’re here.

One of the most recent blog posts I wrote was a heavy one. (Read it here: I chased my baby up a mountain) It was about my daughter and the grueling (and now so rewarding) process of her growing up. It’s just crazy. When I started this blog I was barely pregnant with her. And now, I’ve written a post about the two of us tackling the mountain of toddlerhood. It was a really cool way to come full circle. 

This week the topic on my heart is much lighter. Can you guess what it is? Just close your eyes and picture yourself slowly wrapping your arms around a tiny little cuddle of warmth and adorableness. The fresh smell. The safety and security. Ahhhh can you feel it? Baby hugs! 

I sort of don’t understand when people say they’re not a “baby person”… Babies are totally the best. They’re so cuddly and their cheeks are just always so kissable. Ahhh babies. 

I’m a baby person. Surprise! 

I’m also a hug person (Surprise again?). Maybe that’s why I love babies so much. Baby hugs! Babies are an automatic person you can squeeze. Especially when they’re newborns, all they want to do is get hugs from you. They’re someone you can soothe with a hug, rock to sleep, and cuddle. When I was little, if something scared me or I was hurt, my reaction was immediate. I was running over to my mom and dad as quickly as my little legs would carry me. Hugs are where it’s at. So when I had kids I thought, YES! A brand new human being for me to hug ALL the time! This is fantastic. 

When my kids were babies I hugged them endlessly. Every time I was about to swoop them down into their carseat: hug. Every time I scooped them up from their crib: hug. Ahh I just loved to squeeze them tight and smell their skin. I had heard people say over and over how fast the baby stage goes, so hugging them was my way to stop for those few seconds and just breathe it in. I also think part of the reason why I love hugs so much is because I really enjoy just being still. I like to slow down, watch the waves, soak in the sunset, and just be. I don’t always have to be doing something. I could just sit, hold my child and be. 

But as my firstborn started to get a little older, she began to resist my mommy cuddles. She didn’t want to sit in my lap to watch the parade, she wanted to chase after the floats. She didn’t want to cuddle on my lap during the movie, she wanted to see how high she could jump off the couch (but we couldn’t turn off the movie because she was “still watching it”). This girl is the polar opposite of still. When she was a baby and I first started to sense some hug-resistance from her it was just a little tensing up, almost as if she felt uneasy. Then it evolved into full on back arching and swatting me away. My daughter, my own child, wasn’t a hugger. I wasn’t prepared for this. 

When I was pregnant with my daughter, I remember reading an anonymous quote that made my heart skip a beat. It said, “When your child hugs you, never be the first to let go.” I remember internalizing those words and thinking yeeeessssssss that is some beautiful stuff right there. I’m gonna do that. Never let go first. But as my daughter kept getting bigger and bigger I noticed she pretty much never initiated hugs. There was no opportunity to turn that quote into my life. It took a long journey of me figuring her out for this difference of ours to not make me feel bad. Like seriously, what kid doesn’t want to hug their mom? Apparently my kid and she’s still awesome and she still loves me. She just shows it differently than what I expected.

And then…God decided to rain down another big beautiful blessing in my life by giving me a second child, my son. He is quite literally, the best natural born hugger in the entire world. This little boy loves nothing more than to come running right at me-full speed and launch himself into my arms. When I walk into a room: hug. When I hand him his lunch: hug. When I discipline him for taking his sister’s toy: tear-streaked hug. It feels a little silly to admit, but his hugging ability is one of my favorite things about him. 

Each of my kids are answers to prayers in very different ways. Grace is my quirky, beats to her own drummer kind of perfect that I, truly, always wanted. As I wrote in that previous post --> here, figuring her out was a process (oh wait, it’s still ongoing). I had to learn through a lot of patience and persevering that hugs just weren’t gonna cut it for her. And that’s ok.

So when my Emmett joined us, he felt like the answer to my prayer for a child who just wanted to sit and be with me. I’ve had countless moments where I have thought that he fell asleep on my shoulder because there was just no way a hug could reasonably go on for that long. But no, as soon as I would fidget just a little (trying to reach my phone so that I could use it as a mirror to see if he was sleeping) he would jolt his head up and give me a huge chubby-cheeked smile. 

He loves to just sit, be, and hug me. He doesn’t always have to be doing something. Ok, well he’s two so he kind of does. But when we go outside to draw with chalk, he wants to sit in my lap. When we watch Finding Dory for the ten thousandth viewing, he cuddles right up next to me the entire time.

I love that God knew how much I would delight in an affectionate child. Sometimes when I’m thanking God for my children I specifically say a prayer of thanksgiving for blessing me with my little boy who always (every single day) has a hug for me. 

I get to be the one who doesn’t let go first.

What do you delight in about your child? I would love to know :) Leave a comment below!

Blessings,

Shantastic :)

I chased my baby up a mountain

“Hey Mom, can you get me out of here?” 

Hmmm that was a good question. Could I get her out of there? My daughter (who turned four last summer) had thought it would be super hilarious for me to put her in a baby swing at the park. I shared her excited energy and thought that, indeed, it would be pretty funny to see her in a baby swing too.

Literally the second I got all her weight plopped into the swing I thought, “OH CRAP. How am I going to get her out of this??” It was one of those swings where you have to lift the baby up really high until their feet clear the leg holes. With how much I struggled just getting her into the seat, I realized I had absolutely no clue how I was going to get her out of it. We were the only ones at the park. The nearest group of people was a construction crew about a 1/4 of a mile away. I quickly filed that info into my “emergency we’ve been stuck here for an hour and I am desperate for help” folder. As I just stood there silently panicking in my head, she was having the most amazing time. She exchanged excited squeals with her little brother and they both laughed about how much fun there were having side-by-side. Totally carefree. And then, the dreaded question came, “Mom, I’m ready to get out. Can you get me out of here?” ….Sweetie, do you want to know the real answer to that question?? Of course I couldn’t scare her and tell her I was picturing us spending the rest of her life stuck in this thing. I had to stay calm and act as though I was totally capable of lifting her 40lb body up over my head. In this moment I probably should have assessed the situation and come up with a strategy for how I was going to accomplish this. But no, of course I just grabbed her under her shoulders and started heaving. I got her waist out and her body slumped over the side of the swing. Her legs were still stuck in the holes and I had lost my “oomph” to keep pulling her upwards. I froze for about half a second and thought, “Dear sweet Jesus please give me the strength to not drop my kid and make her dangle by her ankles on this stupid swing.” 

The second the prayer left my brain I realized, DUH her giant boots were blocking the leg holes. My fingers barely reached the top of her boots and I was miraculously able to slide them off her feet. Within seconds she wriggled her legs out of the holes to freedom. As we both looked at each other and giggled about our silly fiasco, I realized, she really is a big kid now…no more baby swings. 

Everyone says it happens so fast. You’ll blink and it’s over. Your baby is gone and it has been replaced with this little person who just never. stops. talking. You now have a kid who has her own grand ideas about sitting in baby swings and laughing about it. For me, the transition hasn’t quite felt like blinking. It’s been more like that whole hills and valleys metaphor. You know, the valleys are where everything is all nice and easy, there’s wildflowers and the terrain isn’t as rough. It still might be a little rocky here and there but it’s nothing compared to scaling a mountain-side. For me as a first-time parent, babyhood was a glorious valley of adorable squishiness…and then, all too soon, there came the mountain climb of tantrum-filled toddlerhood.

When I first got pregnant, I didn’t really daydream past the baby stage. I knew that based on my personality, babyhood would be the magnificent valley I had always dreamed of. Yes, of course there would be LOTS of growing and learning that would take place, but I knew it wouldn’t stretch and test me the same way toddlerhood eventually would. I knew the season of life would undoubtedly come where I would have to take my girl by the hand and we would both, together, have to climb the inevitable mountain of growing up. However, little did I know that it would more accurately involve me chasing after her like a crazy person, trying to slow her down, and trying with all my might to figure her out.

Somehow, by the grace of the most amazing God, we both survived. There were times where I didn’t know if my sanity would remain intact. There were days when I questioned if her staying home with me was really the best thing for her. 

I remember one morning I was leaving to go get groceries and tried giving her a hug before I left. She doesn't like hugs. I knew this, yet I persisted. So instead of embracing me like my foolish wishful thinking had hoped, she pulled away, kicked me in the stomach and said “I don luhh you Mom!” I glanced up at my husband with tears starting to form in my eyes and as he started to try to say something to make me feel better I put my hand up and said, “Thanks sweetie, but I just need to leave now.” The last thing I needed was for my child to see me crying.

At the time we were on a pretty tight grocery budget, but on that day I got myself a white raspberry mocha from Starbucks. As I slowly sipped my coffee while perusing the aisles at Target I kept whispering to myself  'My child loves me. My child loves me.' Now, don't get me wrong. She wasn't a mommy-kicking monster all the time. She had her many sweet moments and countless silly ones too. But, I'm embarrassed to admit how much the monster moments crushed me. I can't even tell you how many times my husband has had to console me by saying things like 'You KNOW she loves you Babe.’ I realized over a very grueling and sometimes painful journey up our mountain that learning what she needed from me would be a process. When I started the parenthood stage I just assumed that my kids would need me to be their mom and that the definition of that would be whatever naturally came out of me. I was so very wrong with my feisty, strong-willed little force. It took a lot of prayer, self reflection and patience to finally start to piece together what she needed from me. In my prayers I would ask God why she acted the way she did. Why won’t she just hug me? Why does she fight with me on everything?? During those moments of prayer when I was waiting for an answer, God nudged me to the thought that I need to start seeing HER. I need to ask questions like, “What does she need from me in this moment?” instead of trying to mold her into what I thought she should be. She doesn’t need hugs. And that’s perfectly ok. Instead, she needs me to sit down with her in her room and let her explain how to play the new game she invented during quiet time. That’s what fills her up and makes her feel special. 

As we continued on our trek up that mountain, the more I started to figure her out. And the more I figured her out, the more I noticed the gap between us beginning to close. I wasn’t chasing after her in panic mode anymore.

Then, finally, after a grueling climb of trudging (sometimes crawling) and persevering, the monumental day finally came when she turned four. The moment she reached that age milestone it was like a switch turned on in her brain. We had finally made it to the peak of that seemingly endless climb. And on that mountaintop we were blessed with the glorious, magnificent descent into the valley of being a preschooler. It’s much more peaceful here. There’s less tantrums, there’s sentences that include the words, “Ok Mom that will be a good idea.” It’s so freakin beautiful. Now, her sense of humor has grown to the point where we can have inside jokes and I can lovingly tease her about how sometimes I just NEED a big cuddle-hug from my baby girl. She obliges with rolling her eyes and trying to distract me with a question or anecdote from her day. We can laugh about our differences now.

My baby is not a baby anymore. We’re steering clear of baby swings, I’ve packed up all her little rompers and have started to forget just how chubby her little cheeks were. I thought leaving her valley of babyhood would be heartbreaking, but what I forgot to think about is that there is inevitably another valley on the other side. Yes, it looks very different. I’m now walking with my girl holding her hand-no longer chasing after her in a full on panic. I’m taking what I learned on that trek up the mountain about who she is and applying that to what she needs from me as her mom. Of course I know there will be many more mountains for us to climb together, but for now, I’m going to soak this in. We worked really hard to get here, so I’m going to enjoy it.

Have you had any "monster moments" with your kids? Did you have to buy yourself a coffee to feel better too? :) 

Blessings,

Shantastic

My Baby is Probably Going to MIT

I had a complete epiphany this week. Grace walked up to me in the kitchen, paused, and then just froze staring up at me. Her neck was craning so she could see all the way to my eyes. I stopped what I had been doing and was mesmerized by how calm and mature she looked. And then the realization smacked me in the face. Where did my baby go? It seems like all in one moment my baby is gone and has been replaced by this little person who can think, run, and have opinions of her own. She’s accomplished so many things for the first time in just a few short months.

Many of a child’s “firsts” are very memorable, surreal moments. I’ll never forget the night when Grace took her first steps. Her eyes were beaming as she caught the proud gaze from her parents. As she carefully took her hands off the side of the couch she squealed gleefully while tottering from one foot to the other. For us parents, the ‘firsts’ are our opportunity to see our once completely helpless infants begin to experience the world on their own. The first time our children do something is also extremely crucial to their development because they are constantly watching us to see how we react. They want to know if what they just did was a good thing or a bad thing. Our doctor described it as “baby scientists.” She said everything they do all day is just one experiment after the other. How does mom react when I hit the dog? If I use sign language to say, “Please” will I get what I want? So, when our children have their “first” moment, they may be initially proud of themselves for discovering something new, but ultimately, they are looking to us to decide what the outcome of their experiment is.

Sometimes it feels like my little scientist is a pint-sized genius. I wouldn’t be surprised if she grows up to be a real scientist someday after all the experiments she performs on a daily basis. One morning in particular I will never forget because she concluded one of her greatest experiments yet. We were all in church together during worship time and Gracie’s dad had lifted his hand to praise the Lord. As Gracie was being held in her dad’s arms I literally saw her eyes go from him, to his outstretched hand, and then to her hand as she tentatively raised it in the air. The second I saw her worshipping the Lord for the first time it made my heart leap with hope that one day she would knowingly understand what she was doing. As I watched her little hand gently sway back and forth I gave her a smile that immediately told her what she had done for the first time was a very good thing. Now whenever we go to church and the music starts, her hands go up in the air and she gets a very proud look on her face.

Some of her ‘firsts’ were incredibly easy to decide how to respond because they were undeniably awesome achievements. A few that will forever be on my top favorites list are her first words, first steps, and first time dancing. Another exciting first happened recently when Grace and I were out running some errands. A woman who was walking by stopped to wave at Grace and admire her toddler cuteness. Grace just stared at her for a moment trying to figure out what she had done to warrant such praise and attention. She hesitantly chewed on her finger as she assessed the woman’s face. She had no clue the woman was just admiring her for being a little one. When she finally realized the woman was excited about something she had done, without any warning, Grace took a deep breath and exclaimed, “HIIIIIIIII!!!” It was quite endearing because her voice did this roller coaster of inflection as she elongated the word. It was her first time greeting someone and based on my applause, she will be sure to do it again.

This week I got to add one more milestone to my ever-growing list of favorite “firsts” but I wish I could tell you I had responded differently. Sometimes I can be proud of myself for helping to teach her to praise the Lord or say "hi", but I’m definitely not perfect. As she continues to explore and experiment, there are just going to be some times when I may accidentally teach her something that is not necessarily socially acceptable.

One of these “failure” moments turned out to be pretty hysterical, and if it comes back to haunt me someday I hope I can just shrug it off and chuckle. I was sitting at the kitchen table enjoying my Kashi cereal while Grace made her usual morning rounds to check in on her “My Little Pony” stuffed animals. Her favorite thing is to carry all of them at once and weave in and out from under the table. As I ate my cereal, enjoying a rare moment of uninterrupted peace, I caught sight of Grace from the corner of my eye. She had paused momentarily directly under the center of the table because she had dropped Twilight Sparkle. As Gracie bent forward, her tummy was just barely protruding from the bottom of her shirt. She had to bend pretty far over to reach Twilight because she was already carrying such a load. As her tiny fingers finally reached Twilight’s purple mane, I could hear her audible grunt as she reached with all her might.

Her exertion proved to be just a little too much for such a tiny body, and right there under the table, for the ‘first’ time Gracie farted. Not just a harmless, infant-sized puff of air, no. The sound that came from her with such a force was something that sounded like it should have only come from an adult-sized person. I could have chosen that moment to simply ignore the offense and hope she didn’t catch on that she had even made the noise. But of course, that’s not what happened. The large bite of cereal that I had just plopped into my mouth came hurling forward as I burst into a fit of laughter. I can still feel the sensation of the cold milk dribbling down my chin as I tried to catch my breath.

The second Grace realized I was laughing at her she edged herself closer to the side of the table. She wanted a way to claim what she had just done and solidify that I was encouraging her bodily function. Her comedic timing was perfect as she popped her head out from underneath the table and giggle-screamed, “HIIIIIIII!!!!”

Is it the end of the world that I just taught my little scientist that loud farts will be rewarded with fits of laughter? Probably not. I have a false hope that she’ll keep her flatulence within the comforts of our home, but even if she does decide to extremely embarrass me by farting in the grocery store or during a sermon at church I suppose I’ll just have to bank on the hope that everyone, deep down in their heart of hearts, thinks toddler farts are funny.

What have you accidentally encouraged your toddler to do? Let’s hear it!

Blessings,

Shantastic

My Baby Plays a Symphony

When I found out I was pregnant, I was only a few weeks along. I had taken the at-home pregnancy test and then was given another urine test at our eight-week appointment. It wasn’t until week 12 that we finally got to hear what we had been holding our breath for. Our baby had a heartbeat! Once we heard her heart beating, we could start to dream about her life. 

A few days ago I was moving through a typical pattern of my simple, yet magical days with Grace. As I put away the dishes she munched on her breakfast. I constantly have music playing at home because I love how music can reach into our lives and inspire us, touch us, and encourage us to be better. A song started playing by one of my favorite singers and my ears perked up because I had never heard it before. I started to “jam” along to it because I was connecting with the content. It’s a song about living life to its fullest and not wasting it- dreaming big, and not settling for less. The lyrics draw a parallel “between the dead and the living,” as the writer sits in a cemetery feeling inspired to not waste her life. Part of the meaning of the song is meant to be obvious. The bodies in the cemetery are dead and the people in the city behind her are alive. But I think what she is really trying to say, is how many of those people bustling through their busy lives are really alive? How many of them are just breathing in and exhaling, going through the same motions day after day?

“You said, remember that life is not meant to be wasted. We can always be chasing the sun. So fill up your lungs and just run, we’ll always be chasing the sun.”

I'm in love with the message of this song because I want to chase the sun. I want my life to mean something. I want my days to be full of life and learning and not just be someone with a heartbeat, but someone who lives. A few days ago I had a moment with Grace that could have just been a monotonous encounter but it turned out to be simply beautiful. As a parent, you change so many diapers, wipe so many noses, and try to soothe so many cries that sometimes those moments just blend into the next.  I don’t want to be one of those “bustling through life” people so I try to see the life in every moment, but at 2am, I figured I was in for another same old experience as I was woken from my cozy slumber by her slowly escalating whimper. I don’t look forward to our midnight rendezvous because as much as I wish it would be a time for us to cuddle and for her to fall asleep in my arms, it usually turns into me holding her for a few minutes until she calms down and then her screaming bloody murder the second I lay her back down in her crib.

As her whimper turned into a full-on cryfest I groggily pulled myself out of bed because after 17 months, I know which midnight cries require mom and which ones don’t. This cry was definitely a “I need some milk before I’m going back to sleep” kind of cry. As I gave her the milk and we sat in her rocking chair, I was starting to dread what was about to come next- her wails as I put her back in her crib. But as Grace finished her last gulp, God decided to wake me from my zombie-like state and remind me to be present in my moments with her. Once her bottle was empty, without any hesitation, she fell asleep in my arms. She has always been an incredibly light sleeper and she hasn’t actually slept in my arms since she was just a few months old. I relished the warmth that emitted from her body and smiled as I heard the rhythmic purr of her breath going in and out, in and out. My favorite line from the song, “and the gift of my heartbeat sounds like a symphony” echoed in my mind as I listened to Grace's symphony that proved to us so many months ago that she was real. It was the proof we had needed to give us hope that she wouldn't just be a heartbeat but that she would live.

Since having Gracie there is one piece of advice that has been said to me more than anything else. Whether her and I are out at the grocery store or on a walk, people constantly stop me to say, “Enjoy this, it goes by so fast.” I realized pretty early on in motherhood that what everyone was telling me was true. It goes by so fast. I refuse to waste the ‘gift of our heartbeats.”

We will spend our days “Chasing the Sun.”

Blessings,

Shantastic :)

P.S. If you are curious about the song I referenced in this post then I invite you to listen to the beautifulness that is Sara Bareilles, and sing along as she encourages you to "always be Chasing the Sun."

Week 28: Waddling Without a Stroller at the Zoo

This week Seth and I are visiting family in San Diego, the city with perfect weather, beautiful beaches, and driveways lined with palm trees. It's a nice place to "have" to go visit. We have to see our family right? We lived in San Diego for four years so it’s been like visiting our second home.

Our trip happened to land on our five-year anniversary, which is this Saturday. We decided since we were already finding ourselves in one of the most beautiful cities in America during our anniversary, we should celebrate it here. For our mini vacay we booked a hotel downtown that overlooked the bay and transitioned from being San Diego natives into tourists. I suppose our anniversary celebration could also be considered a “Babymoon” since this was our last vacation before becoming parents. For me everything has been all about the “last time”. This is the last time we’ll fly alone. This is last time we won’t have to be that couple with the screaming baby that no one wants to sit next to. And this is the last time we’ll go on vacation together without missing our child terribly.

Even though I can feel myself becoming impatient with having to wait for little one to come, having time to mentally prepare is actually very conducive to my personality. I like to be able to process major life changes and savor the way things are so that I don’t resent it when it all changes.

This trip has definitely been an opportunity for me to delight in just having to worry about myself. At the airport we had a relatively easy check in experience and I turned to Seth and said, “I hope you enjoyed that.” He raised his eyebrows at me as if to say, “What are you talking about?” I answered his voiceless question by saying, “Next time we go through check in and security it ain’t gonna be so easy!” I then mimed trying to carry a baby in a Baby Bjorn and push a stroller while carrying a diaper bag. He reminded me we are a team and I won't have to do it alone. Then he called dibs on carrying the baby. 

We got to enjoy many more babyless moments on our “Babymoon”. On Tuesday we went to the famous San Diego Zoo. I enjoyed getting to hold Seth’s hand the entire time, see my favorite animal, the giraffe, eat when I was hungry and rest when I was tired. After about five hours I was so exhausted that I succumbed to the pregnancy waddle, but it was totally worth it. Even though I was savoring my moments of independence I kept smiling to myself as I observed all the families with small children and envisioned what my new future might be like. I know Brendon was doing the same thing because at one point he chuckled and said, “All these moms probably think I’m checking them out..but I’m really checking out their strollers.”

Even though I keep thinking about what I’m “giving up” I know I’m going to take one look at our baby and wonder how on earth I ever lived my life without him/her. I'll gladly give up my selfish ways in order to gain a relationship with my child. The next time I go to the zoo I’ll get to see it through the eyes of my long-awaited little one. I’ll no longer be as excited to see the giraffes. Instead I’ll be anxiously watching my child's face light up as he/she sees his/her favorite animal.

I was watching my belly last night as little one went absolutely crazy. I seriously felt and saw a limb push my belly up on one side and slide all the way over across the entire length of my tummy. I was speechless.  It’s just so seriously cool that there is a little person growing in there! 

Blessings,

Shantastic :) 

Week 27: Two-thirds can make you crazy

I’ve always been a little scared of the third trimester. That’s when you see the pregnant women with sweat dripping down their forehead as they try to do the simplest tasks like put on their shoes. I also feel like the third trimester is when women start to tell you how it really is. If there ever was a pregnancy “glow” it’s most definitely gone by the time they hit the seven-month mark. Earlier this week I tried to complete a task that should have taken 3 minutes and ended up taking over 20. There wasn’t even the slightest glimmer of a glow on me that day. The family I nanny for just recently lowered sweet baby girl’s crib, which however necessary, also means I have the daunting task of trying to bend over far enough to be able to reach her. Yesterday I had to attempt to change her crib sheet. No matter what I did I just couldn’t reach far enough! I became the stereotype. Beads of sweat forming on my face, grunting as I tried to reach just far enough to grab the mattress. How my life has changed.

I’ll be saying goodbye to my nanny family at the end of July so I can be a stay at home mom. I’ve already cried multiple times when I think about saying goodbye to sweet baby girl. When I have a four-day weekend I honestly miss her. I’ll be out running errands and wish I could hear her cute, little babbles from her car seat. It’s really helped me to realize that I’m ready to be a mom, because the idea of having a little one around me all time doesn’t feel like an inconvenience. It feels natural.

Not only have I enjoyed creating a relationship with baby girl, but I’ve gained some pretty invaluable insight into the logistics of motherhood. For example, when she sneezes a mouthful of baby food carrots all over my face, it no longer fazes me. Another time I realized I had been walking around for over 30 minutes with spit up caked in my hair. These otherwise disgusting events are just another day at the office for me.

When gross things happen, it’s pretty amazing how much our maternal instincts take over and all we care about is making sure the baby is ok. One time she had an upset tummy and puked with what seemed like the force of a small volcano all over my only pair of jeans that fit. I didn’t care about how disgusting it was to be sitting in a stinky mess. All I remember is my heart aching as I looked at her tear streaked cheeks and saw her sad eyes looking back at me hoping I would have a solution for her discomfort.  

After 10 years of working with children and ultimately having to say goodbye to them at some point, I finally will have a relationship that is permanent. I’ll be cleaning up baby puke out of my hair that actually belongs to my baby. For some crazy reason I have chosen the boogers, diapers, and sneezes.  Bring it on baby. Bring. It. On.

Crazy third-trimester emotional breakdown of the week:

The other day I reached the epitome of emotional craziness. I literally had a mental breakdown when my eggs stuck to the pan and there was no longer even a remote possibility that they would be “over easy”. I completely lost it. I was pacing, screaming at the pan, and clenching my fists to my forehead. At first Seth thought I was just joking and being dramatic. Then I saw worry start to creep across his face as he realized I genuinely was that angry at my eggs. He hovered for a minute or two in that delicate balance of is it ok to laugh right now because she is being so ridiculous or do I need to try and figure out how to help her? He decided to go for the safer option and offered to make me a new batch of eggs.

Baby is getting big enough now (about 2 pounds) that when he/she kicks and moves I can actually feel limbs moving and twisting! It’s not just random bubbles anymore. We’ve also been able to push on my belly and feel the baby creating resistance! 

Come one ladies, it's time to share your own pregnancy related emotional meltdowns! Did ruined eggs set you off too?

Blessings,

Shantastic :) 

Week 26: A spot stopped my heart

Next week marks the beginning of my third trimester. No wonder I’m feeling so uncomfortable…

This week baby has hijacked my appetite. When my friends and family ask me how I’ve been feeling, I tell them I’m hungry. I was joking with my mom and I said, “I’m trying really hard to be healthy but sometimes I just feel like, whatever, I’m getting huge anyways, might as well enjoy this tasty cinnamon roll!” She laughed and then said, “Well, sweetie, the thing is…if you eat like that then it’ll be harder to lose the weight once the baby comes.” …I consider myself a relatively smart person, but my common sense definitely escaped me on that one.

Seth and I started talking about our future hopes of having children before we were even married. We dreamed about names, how many we wanted, and of course, when. After a few months of trying we saw a dark pink line and a slightly fainter but very present second line. All our dreaming could finally be put into motion. However, it wasn’t long after our celebration of running around the living room screaming and crying that a startling reality set in. We thought the hard part would be trying to conceive. What if it didn’t happen for us? Now that we were pregnant we realized the hard part wasn’t over. Just like we had no control of if we could conceive a baby, we had no control of whether or not this little life survives. I could contribute by being healthy and taking care of myself, but beyond that it was totally out of our control. That’s a very sobering thought when the thing you want control of the most in your life is completely out of your hands.

A week and a half ago we had our first real scare. I went to the bathroom and found out I was spotting. I’ve heard that can be pretty normal so even though my heart stopped for a moment I quickly recovered and thought it was probably nothing. I looked up a couple creditable pregnancy websites and both said in big bold letters that if you have any spotting after 24 weeks to take it very seriously and call your doctor immediately. At that point I was 24 weeks, 4 days.  While I was waiting for the nurse at the hospital to call me back I frantically tried to get baby to move. My doctor had told me that active movement actually rocks the baby to sleep and when you lay still baby will most likely wake up. I stopped my erratic pacing and gently lay down on my side. I stayed there frozen for a few minutes, waiting, hoping, praying. Nothing. I started poking my belly trying to urge him/her to just give me something. Finally, I felt the tiniest little bubble. It was enough to calm me down a little but not enough to make all my worry go away. When the nurse called back she recommended I come in just to make sure everything was ok.

By the time we left the hospital we were incredibly relieved and undeniably grateful. We got to hear baby’s heart beating, baby had woken up and started doing cartwheels, I had gotten a cleared urine test, and we found out (the not-so-fun way) that my cervix is still closed. Those of who read my post from Week 21 know exactly what was going through my mind when the nurse said she needed to check my cervix. I blankly stared at her for a moment while the reality set in. Then I said, “ohhh..that doesn’t sound very fun..” She paused and then replied, “You know, unfortunately, there really isn’t a way to make this enjoyable. You just…have to breathe.” So breathe is what I did. And squeezed Seth’s hand so hard I’m pretty sure he lost circulation to his fingers.

One of my friends told me the worry about the safety of your children is always something you have to work through. It’s not over once you finally give birth and see your child breathing for the first time. So I guess Seth and I have embarked on a life-long journey of learning to put our trust in God, especially with the things we hold most dear. I say that like it’s easy, but it’s really not. One of my best friends lost a baby about a month before her due date. The pain and sorrow I felt for her was intense. I remember praying and actually yelling at God. It made no sense to me. Time has passed and I know my friend and her family are still learning how to cope with their loss. Last Christmas marked the one-year anniversary. They sent out a card that said, “A year ago our son joined His Creator in Heaven, his joy far outweighs our loss.” Wow. Trusting God with the things we hold most dear can be extremely challenging when we look at it from our Earthly perspective. But a lot of the time, we don’t know how to look at it any other way because this is all we know. My friends have continued to trust God through the worst of circumstances, and that’s pretty powerful.

Mommies and Pregnant ladies: Did you ever have to go to the hospital because something was wrong? Were you as freaked out as I was?

Blessings,

Shantastic

Week 25: I once hijacked someone’s body

Thank you to everyone who offered their feedback to me about last week's post. I was extremely blessed to hear that some of the things God had put on my heart had resonated with you. 

I saw a commercial this week for Mother’s Day. Who is surprised that I was crying by the end? It was a montage illustrating how many jobs, tasks, and unselfish acts a mom does throughout motherhood. The tears came when the children started to grow up and recognize their relationship with the woman who had loved them unconditionally their whole life. The line at the end of the commercial said, “The hardest job in the world, is the best job in the world.” My mom once told me that she never really wanted to be a mom because she didn’t think she would be good at it. Then she said she’s so happy she did become a mom because she never knew she could love another person so much. She really didn’t have an accurate perception of her mothering capabilities because she’s pretty phenomenal.

My entire life I have always wanted to be near my mom. I remember being a toddler and crying hysterically when my mom would leave to go to the grocery store. She just has this complete safeness about her. As I’ve gotten older, I feel like I get the best of both worlds with her. She’ll always be mom my first, but she has grown into a friend.

During my sophomore year of high school I had to envision what life would be like without her. At her yearly exam her doctor noticed a lump on her breast and said due to protocol he had to have it tested. The results came back with the absolutely terrifying “c” word attached to them. As I’m sure with most people, all the different scenarios played out in my head. She could be fine. It could just be a simple surgery. Or she could die. And I would have to live the rest of my life without her.

I was trying to process all this information with only having been a Christian for about a year. I was still in the delicate process of figuring out what it means for God to have a purpose for our lives and understanding that His timing is always perfect. How could my mom having cancer align with any of that?

I felt like my adoration towards God was conditional. Save my mom and I’ll love you forever. Take her away and I don’t know if I’ll ever forgive you. They were very “human” emotions to say the least. A few days later she was scheduled to go in for surgery and at that point the doctors would know if the cancer had spread. The night before her surgery was the most broken I have ever been. I cried so hard I felt like my heart could literally split from my chest and break in two. I don’t think I’ve ever had a more sincere prayer since that night. I begged God to let me keep her. 

At school the following day I was in a complete daze. It seemed like every moment was either clouded with tears when I was showing emotion or hidden behind blank stares when I was trying to keep it together. I didn’t rejoin the world of communication until I heard the word, “contained” later that night. The cancer was contained to her breast. She needed a simple surgery, and doses of radiation and chemotherapy as a precaution. What I heard from this statement was, “You get to keep your mom.” Maybe God healed her because He chose to answer my desperate prayer. I think He heard my prayer, but He also had His own reasons. As her and I have continued to walk through life together, God has given me glimpses of what some of those reasons might be. It’s now been over 10 years since she has been diagnosed as cancer free. Which means I have a whole lifetime of memories with her, both past and future, to be thankful for.

If my kid loves me as much as I love my mom, I’ll be happy.

How has baby hijacked my body this week? Seth and I shared a good laugh as I attempted to fit into some of my fancy clothes. We have a wedding coming up in a couple weeks and being the thrifty person I am, I thought just maybe I could possibly fit into something I already have. I knew it was really bad when Seth just stared at me then started laughing and shaking his head. Between fits of laughter he said, “Babe, we’ll go shopping and get you something.” I had to know just how bad it was so I turned towards the mirror, and joined him in laughing hysterically. I looked ridiculous. 

If you have Twitter, let's be creepers and follow eachother! Find me @ShanTastic2714

Blessings,

Shantastic :) 

Week 24: “The most accurate guide for our own hearts, is the One who made it” –Josh Riebock

I’m a little serious this week. You’re more than welcome to join me.

When I started my nanny job at the end of October, I fell in love with the little girl almost immediately. She didn’t have to do anything to make me feel that way. She was just being who she is, and I adored her for it. I still do. I know that when our baby is born I will fall in love again just as easily, only on a more intense scale being that this will be my child. He/she won’t have to do anything to earn my love. This baby hasn’t even taken his first breath, and he is already loved.

A few weeks ago I was playing with the little girl I nanny for. She had just gotten this toy with a mirror and every time I turned the mirror to her she would light up when she saw her reflection. The family also has a large full-length mirror in the house and when we pass it I stop and let her look at herself. She always gives the same joyful reaction to seeing her reflection. It made me start to wonder, at what age does that change for us? Our initial instinct when we see what we look like as babies is happiness. She’s not sitting there critiquing herself or comparing herself to another. She’s not letting herself be defined by someone else. She’s just happy. At some point we all start to let others define our beauty and worth. We all do it. Yet, the thought of my child one day doing that just breaks my heart. How could my child not know how important he is? 

A few days ago I heard that a 13 year-old girl from my small hometown committed suicide because she was being bullied for a very long time. I didn’t know the girl personally, but her story has been haunting me all week. She had reached a place where she thought she had no worth at all.  I can guarantee you her family felt very differently. I have no idea what her home life was like. Maybe her parents were telling her everyday how much they loved her. Sometimes, unfortunately, we choose not to hear that. My parents were always extremely supportive of me and they’ve continued to be into my adult life. But there were times growing up that their words of love and adoration didn’t penetrate my heart. Instead I focused on the boy who had teased me during recess saying that my glasses made me look like a toad.  In those moments I was letting bullies define my value because I believed what they were saying. We’ve all done that in our lives. We’ve all let others dictate how we feel. It breaks my heart that this girl had begun to believe all the hurtful things that were being said to her.  

Last summer I went to camp with Seth's youth group. I’ve been going to and working for summer Bible camps for over 10 years so I have heard some lackluster speakers, a handful of interesting ones and only a couple who have been exceptional. The speaker last summer, Josh Riebock, truly was an exception. He was raw and absolutely honest about his failures. He told us his story about how he completed the 12-step program for self-hatred. He really hated the person he was. During worship one of the evenings the band was singing a song with the lyrics, “So I'll stand, my soul Lord to You surrendered, all I am is yours, all I am is yours.” After the song Josh walked up to the microphone and said God had given him a revelation while we were singing. We as humans are so broken and it’s so easy for us to forget our value. He said he was finally starting to figure it out. As he was singing he realized that when we sing that song God is thinking, “You still don’t get it. You don’t get it.” Josh said as many times as we sing those words to God, He is singing it back to us a hundred million times louder saying, ‘No, all I AM is yours.” We won’t ever begin to understand our worth until we link our identity with the One who created us. That’s when we stop letting others define us and allow ourselves to be defined by Him. Yes, I’m a little dorky sometimes, yes, I suppose my glasses do make me look like a toad to some people, but my life has an incredible and irreplaceable value. I have a God who not only created me, but loved and accepted me before I even took my first breath. Out of all the things I want my child to learn in life, embracing the wholeness of God’s love is my most sincere hope.  

As I was writing this post I looked up Josh on Facebook and someone had tagged him in one of his speeches. I started listening to it and a smile slowly crept across my face as I realized how much his topic correlates with what has been on my heart this week. 

To hear his video go to http://www.facebook.com/pages/Josh-Riebock/221730051185951 and scroll down to April 9th.

(There's a long intro you can skip over)

Blessings,

Shantastic :) 

Week 23: My belly is a bounce house

I can’t put my socks on while standing up anymore. And I think I may have found a stretch mark. I’m praying it’s just my imagination. This morning I was feeling baby move stronger than I ever have. At one point I thought I saw my shirt twitch and couldn’t believe it! I lifted up my shirt to look and my belly started bouncing! It looked so cool!

 A couple days ago Seth and I were watching a video of our favorite comedian, Jim Gaffigan. He earned our number one spot because he does a 15-minute bit on the awesomeness of bacon. He was talking about how he and his wife just had their fourth baby. He described with amazement all the crazy cool things a woman’s body can do. He basically said, women can grow a baby inside their body, delivery that baby with their body, and then miraculously feed that baby, with their body! Then he said when you think about what man’s contribution to life is, it’s really sort of embarrassing. 

Although the physical contribution of the sexes is unfortunately a bit more significant for the woman, I was shown this week what some of men’s different roles can be when their wife is in the “growing the baby with their body” stage. This week Seth has made a late night dessert run and painted the baby’s room. He even earned extra points with me for agreeing to paint one of the walls Kelly green. Sure, the guy can be the one who does projects around the house, runs out and gets you whatever your little taste buds desire, and tells you how beautiful you look even though you feel like a blob. Seth has done all these things, but this week he reminded me of how crucial our husbands are in the baby-making journey.

 I woke up on Friday morning with some minor pain in my lower abdomen. It sort of felt like the annoying pain you get when you have accidentally “held it’ for too long. I thought nothing of it but as the day went on the pain kept growing stronger. One of my greatest weaknesses is freaking myself out over situations that haven’t even happened yet. It could be a potential illness, the future, finances, etc. and I could sit there and worry for hours over nothing. I’ve really been working on it the last few years but I definitely backslid during our first few weeks of pregnancy. I Googled terms like, “ectopic pregnancy” and “signs of miscarriage” if I felt any sort of pain or cramp. I was giving myself different Google diagnoses everyday! Things had gotten out of control because I was trying to take control. I had to stop letting Google diagnose me. So, when I was feeling this ever-increasing pain in my abdomen I told myself to be calm and stop getting all worked up over nothing. Unfortunately I didn’t pray about it in that moment, I just tried to brush it off. Thankfully God used my body to talk to me since I wasn’t talking to Him. At around noon I was sitting on the floor and when I reached for something I felt a shooting pain go through my pelvis. I froze and realized that I had been in a fair amount of pain for a few hours but had been just trying my best to ignore it. I wrote Seth a text in a “just so you know this was kind of weird and I thought I’d tell you” sort of way to tell him what I was experiencing. I don’t think he’s ever responded to one of my texts sooner. He called me immediately and when I said hello he said, “Call the doctor.” I laughed him off and tried to say it was probably nothing. He was so insistent and said, “When it comes to you and the baby we don’t mess around. Just call.” Seth and I never tell eachother what to do. If on occasion it does happen, we know that the other person is strongly insisting on being taken seriously. I reluctantly agreed, called the doctor, and got an appointment for later that afternoon. After our appointment Seth could have given me a huge dose of, “I told you so.” But thankfully he didn’t. The pain I was experiencing was from a bladder infection, which my doctor told me if left untreated, can lead to premature labor. WHOA! I got the antibiotics and started feeling relief a few days later.

 Married ladies out there, I hope you have husbands who can fulfill the stereotypical male pregnancy-related duties, but even more than that, my hope for you is that he is a man who cherishes you and will take care of you when you aren’t taking care of yourself. By trying to ignore what my body was telling me I wasn’t taking care of myself, or our baby.

Blessings,
Shantastic :)