We decided early on that we wanted to find out the gender of this baby, but we also wanted to take advantage of the fun developments that have occurred in the last six years since we had our last child. (And by “We,” I assume you all I know I mean “Me.” Lee is, graciously, along for this crazy ride).
There weren’t gender reveal parties when we had babies earlier. This is a new development, and a fun one to boot!
Last Thursday, I had an ultrasound, and I kept my head turned and my eyes squeezed shut while the technician pushed and moved the baby around looking for the right shot. She got a clear view, and handed me a sealed envelope with the results, and thus began the most stressful 24 hours of my pregnancy.
I held the results in my hand, but we had determined to find out together as a family.
Do you know how many times I considered opening them, then resealing them in another envelope?!
Roughly 168 times…
But I resisted, and I handed off the envelope to my friend Jenni, who was tasked with pulling the surprise together. And I spent the second 24 hours talking myself out of texting her to see if I could get her to slip up and offer me some clue as to the results. I’m glad I waited, though, because the surprise?
Oh it was sweet.
I had my mouth open for most of the pictures. Good grief, I have a huge mouth…
Truthfully, I’ve felt for most of this pregnancy that I was carrying a girl, but there was a part of me that feared I was wrong. Of course I would have been equally as thrilled to have another little boy, but here’s the thing:
I feel like this little girl is just a whisper of God’s sweetness to me.
It’s no secret that the termination of our adoption was one of the most difficult and heart-wrenching experiences I’ve ever walked through. While I mourned the loss of a child I had prayed for, dreamed of, and envisioned for so many years, I lost something else, too.
I lost the guarantee of a sister for my Katya.
These past 18 months have been some of the hardest of my life. Not only did I say goodbye to my dream of adoption, and to the child that we had already prayed for and loved, but I also experienced personal heartache within my own family, and it all became a lot to process.
I longed for a sister in the last year. I see the relationships that so many others have with their sisters, and I wished I had the same.
Adoption had been a way for me to answer that dream for my daughter. I dreamed of giving her a sister, and by adopting a little girl, I felt like I could at least give her that gift.
See the thing is – Stuart men are not known for producing little girls. Our Tia broke a long history of strong male lineage, and I feared that we had already struck the X-Chromosome gold, so to speak, and it seemed fairly far-fetched to think we might be able to have another girl on our own.
So I had prepared myself to bring another (amazing) little boy into this world, and to pray that Tia would be blessed with sister-friends instead.
This is my very favorite of all the photos.
But God is so good to hear my deepest heart’s cry. He knows that I still ache a bit over the failed adoption, and perhaps I always will. Perhaps that experience will always sting just a little.
But He provided a balm by answering the smallest of prayers.
Please give my girl a sister.
What a joy it was to experience this moment with our families, both near and far. Thank you modern technology. Yet another advance from the last time we did this whole baby thing.
Having a baby in 2014 is F-U-N!
Thank you to everyone who celebrated this day with us virtually.We opted not to have an in person gender reveal, because I just felt like it would be too much, but the online virtual party we had was even more fun, because all of my worlds, past and present, collided in that one moment, and it felt like the most special day in all the world.
Social media, man. It’s pretty awesome.
And, of course, a big, huge, GIGANTIC shout out to Jenni of Avodah Images for keeping the secret, bringing the balloons, and taking the photos. I’m so grateful that she and her family were there with us for this day. What a blessing.
My children were all up and dressed before the sun awoke up this morning. This is partly my fault since I put them all to bed before the sun went down last night because PREGNANT MOMS GET TIRED!
I also forgot, yet again, to play Tooth Fairy last night because PREGNANT MOMS HAVE NO BRAIN CELLS! So Sloan, bless him, woke up disappointed one more time when there was no money left under his pillow.
Now let me give you a tiny glimpse into our philosophy on the “magic” of childhood. We have always celebrated things like the Tooth Fairy, the Easter Bunny and Santa Clause with our kids. I know some people do not agree with this, but for us, it was fun and we’ve never felt that it was harmful practice.
I destroyed the myth of the Easter Bunny for our children last year because, honestly, it was my least favorite story. I mean, it just logically doesn’t make sense.Bunnies don’t even lay eggs, for heaven’s sake!
Side note: I have a distinct memory from my childhood, when I swear up one side and down the other that I saw the Easter Bunny. I heard a noise outside and went to cross the hall to my parent’s room, and a six foot rabbit stood on his hind legs at the end of the hall. I was so terrified, I dashed back to my bed and pulled the blankets over my ears.
My parents maintain to this day that it was simply a result of my overactive imagination. I’m not entirely sure it wasn’t one of them dressed up to torture me. Either way, the memory is as real as the nose on my face and I will stand by the story until the day I die.
End side note.
I came stumbled into the kitchen this morning at 6:20, and the first words to greet me were, “Mom! The Tooth Fairy didn’t come again. Is the Tooth Fairy even real?”
I’ve been wanting to let Sloan in on the secret of the Tooth Fairy and Santa for awhile now. I just really wanted him to hear from us, and not other people, that these were simply the fun aspects of being parents, so I took him to his room and tried to let him down gently.
“No. The Tooth Fairy isn’t real. I’ll give you a dollar for your tooth later, though, okay?”
Bribery is an art form, friends. Don’t judge.
“Well,” he said, and I knew it was coming. “What about Santa?”
“Saint Nick was a real person, and he really did give gifts to those less fortunate. They hung stockings outside their windows, and on Christmas morning he would leave little treats, or necessary items in their stockings. It’s the magic of giving to others, and that’s a part of Christmas we like to celebrate.”
“Sooooo…Saint Nicholas is real?” Sloan asked.
“Well,” I answered, “Saint Nicholas was real. But he died a long time ago.”
Tact is also an art form. Look at all the things you’re learning from me today!
“And now,” I continued, “one of the fun things we get to do as parents is carry on his magical tradition of giving. We give to others at Christmastime, and we give to our children. We are Santa Clause! It’s a privilege to be Santa for our kids, and now that you know the secret, you can be Santa with us!”
He sits on his bed, face registering utter disbelief. “So you bought all those presents?”
“Well, yes,” I answered. You’re welcome, I thought. I wisely didn’t say that out loud.
“But I’ve heard Santa’s sleigh on the roof on Christmas Eve!”
There’s no real answer to this, so I stay quiet. This is probably somewhat akin to my vision of the Easter Bunny as a child.
“So,” he continued, still processing. “If I get to play Santa with you, does that mean I get to climb on the roof and slide down the chimney?!” His eyes light up.
“Uh…no. That doesn’t actually happen. That’s part of the myth of Santa.”
Face falls again.
“Now,” I continued. “Part of the fun of being Santa is keeping it a secret. You can’t tell anyone else about this because then it’s not as fun, so can you keep this just between us?”
He nods slowly. (I give it a week before the other two kids know about Santa.)
“I just can’t believe you’re Santa,” he says, shaking his head. Then he shrugs, stands up, and asks for some cereal, because when you’re a ten year old boy, food conquers all disbelief.
So the basic theme of this entire story is that I was Mommy the Dream Slayer this morning, and I destroyed the magic of childhood before the sun even rose above the trees. Later, after I’d sent them off to school, I got tickled about the whole conversation and called Lee (who is out of town) to tell him that I destroyed childhood for our firstborn today, and to congratulate him for missing out on that parenting milestone.
So…anyone else in need of a little dream slaying today?
Apparently I’m on a roll.
(PS – I know this can be a hot button topic in some circles, so respectfully I ask that it not become one here. Santa and the Easter Bunny always have very small roles in our holiday celebrations. Kind of like Nutella plays a small role in our every day snacking, but it is not our main source of nutrition…We spend a lot more time discussing the true meaning of those holidays than we do on the commercial characters of the holidays. I’m not defending my position – I’m just stating the reasons behind why we chose to include those stories in our celebrations. Thanks for understanding.)
It’s been a busy week, and it’s only Wednesday! Sleep has eluded me for most of the week, which is why I think it’s felt longer than usual. Or maybe time is simply slowing down. It’s really hard to say for sure.
In any case, yesterday I had two posts up on different websites, and I wanted to share links to those posts here. Tomorrow I leave for Kansas City for a weekend away with dear friends, and this little getaway could not be coming at a better time.
I mentioned that I haven’t been sleeping, right?
My first post went live yesterday at Extraordinary Mommy. It came with a little bit of confusion when my bio did not originally post at the end of the article making it look like Danielle was announcing a surprise pregnancy, which made the morning slightly dramatic, and a little stressful in a totally humorous I MAY HAVE JUST STARTED A TERRIBLE RUMOR sort of way.
Thankfully we got it all sorted out, and we all had a hearty laugh afterward. Here’s an excerpt from the post:
It sounds terrible when I list out all the panic that has washed over us in the last six weeks as we’ve processed this new development in our lives. It’s not that we’re not excited, because we are – we’re just a little nervous. We were the young parents – the couple who would see their children all graduate and leave the nest before turning 50. Now I’ll be the “mature” mom at the Kindergarten round up, which in the grand scheme of life means nothing, I know, but it still feels a bit shocking.”
I also had a post up at Mercy Found Ministries discussing the struggle I feel when I see the crisis in Ukraine, and the knowledge that all adoptions that were in process in Crimea are now terminated. I feel the pain of those families affected deeply, and I wish there was more I could do. But my call right now is to simply be still and trust.
An excerpt:
Trust is such an easy word to say. It rolls off the tongue so nicely, doesn’t it? It is a single, simple syllable, but the implications wrapped intrinsically throughout those letters are weighty and full. They swell with responsibility, with a depth of emotion and sacrifice that is more often than not difficult to grasp.
For the most part, the focus of this blog will remain on the endeavors in which I find inspiration. I also want to focus on YOU. I want to hear your stories, to hear your dreams, your plans, and your goals, and I want to feature them here in this space. Because inspiration is elusive at times, and it takes on so many different forms.
Many times, we find our greatest inspiration in one another.
If you have a story to tell, a project to share that you’re particularly passionate about, or a dream that you’re working toward that you would like to share with this community of inspiration seekers, please click the box that says Connect and let me know! I’d love to have you guest post, or to write a feature post on your behalf.
In addition to dream chasing, inspiration seeking, and story telling, I will intersperse my every day life here in this space as well. I still want to record the happenings of life so that as I get older (and, let’s face it, more senile), I can look back and remember the joys, the trials, the humor, and all the living that took place in our home and community.
With that said, I’m 14 weeks pregnant now.
What?!
On the one hand, I feel like it’s flying by, and on the other I find myself completely over it. Remember, I didn’t really want to do the pregnancy thing again. This wasn’t my plan. Add to that the fact that I feel crummy all. the. ever. lovin’. time, and you can understand why I may be a tad weary.
I’m not complaining. I’m just telling it like it is. I feel nauseous from the moment my feet hit the floor to the second my head hits the pillow. I’m exhausted, but I can’t sleep. I get headaches frequently, and I have had to make myself start choking down vitamins this week because I know that I need to.
But enough about that.
The silver lining is that I’m pushing full steam into the second trimester, and if I remember correctly, all this should begin to subside here shortly.I’ve also tiptoed into the world of Essential Oils, and in just a few days I’ve begun to notice a marked difference in how I feel thanks to the help of a little oil called Lavender.
Things are looking up.
And smelling lovely.
Boy or Girl?
We should be able to find out if we’re having a boy or girl in the next seven weeks or so. If I had to make a prediction right now, I’d say girl, because Tia also dragged me through the ringer of insomnia and nausea, while my boy pregnancies were always smooth sailing.
Truthfully, I will be thrilled either way. I’d love to have a girl because I’ve always wished I had a sister, and I’d love my daughter to have the benefit of that which I do not. But I also adore little boys, and I’ve fallen in love with a certain boy name, so I’m game for either one.
As if I have a choice, right?
Emotionally, I’m doing fairly well. I have moments of intense excitement when I think of having a baby in the house again. Then there are moments of intense panic when I think of having a baby in the house again!
I’m filled with gratefulness that the Lord chose to bless us with another child, yet I still wrestle with the conflicting emotions of longing to adopt, and not understanding why that feeling remains so strong.
The beauty of pregnancy is that there is time to work through all of this before baby comes home. We’re headed into a new season filled with so much joy and blessing. A little bit of nausea is all worth it in the end, and in the meantime I will keep on offering up prayers of thankfulness for the beauty and the trial, both of which are knit tightly together, intertwined so that one cannot operate without the other.
Happy Wednesday, everyone. It’s almost Friday! That’s always cause for celebration.
In the early days of our marriage, Lee and I lived in an apartment the size of a matchbox in Frisco, Texas. Miles from our home, a new church was in it’s early stages, still meeting in a local school while a building was being constructed. This church was led by Chuck Swindoll, an author both of us had long admired, and we quickly discovered that his preaching was the perfect fit for two kids playing house and trying desperately to grow up.
Every Sunday for two years we left our apartment early and traveled the two miles from home to church where we made it a point to sit on the second row, right next to Chuck’s wife Cynthia. We soaked in every word of his preaching, taking pages and pages of notes as we gleaned from his wisdom and his charisma.
Over the years, we have kept track of Pastor Swindoll through his Insight for Living broadcast, and on occasion we order a series of messages that we feel would be particularly beneficial. Last fall, we purchased his series on Biblical Parenting, and the first sermon alone left such an impact that I think on the message often.
He started by breaking down a verse that’s given me a great deal of consternation for the last few years. It’s a verse that I’ve long felt was misunderstood and misquoted often to the detriment of both parents and children.
Train up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not depart from it.” Proverbs 22:6
This verse was always explained to me in such a way that if I raise my children in a strong, Bible believing household, and point them to the Lord, then when they grow old, they will naturally follow that path and not turn from it. The advice seems sound enough, and the message is nice to hear when you have young children who are easily trainable.
But what happens when those children grow up and rebel?
What about the children who choose to depart from their parent’s teaching, or from the church of their youth?
What happens when children question and doubt, and perhaps even turn their back on the Lord?
What are parents supposed to think then?
I’ve long felt that the common interpretation of this verse sets children up for unrealistic expectations of perfection, and sets parents up for a world of heartache and guilt if, indeed, their children choose to take a different path.
Chuck Swindoll set my mind and heart at ease when he broke down the literal interpretation of this verse. Proverbs 22:6 instructs parents to raise their children in the way they are bent.
We are to recognize the natural talents, passions, and gifts that our children possess, and train them up according to those things, so that when they grow old they will know who God created them to be. They will grow with a confidence in who they are, and in their purpose on this earth. This sets children up for success far more than a simplistic view that if they know Jesus at 6, they will know him at 26.
Does this mean they will stay the course and resist temptation? No, it does not. I pray daily that my children will make it through adolescence and young adulthood with a strong sense of faith and trust in the Lord, but I do not expect to raise perfect little robots who never fail, never make mistakes.
We must take the time to really watch our children, to observe them closely, and to take note of the traits that make each of them unique, and then we must heartily and graciously point them toward those naturals bents, even if they differ from what we would desire for them.
Is your child a gifted musician? Does he have an ear for music that comes naturally? Then by all means, buy him a guitar, give him a piano, or purchase a set of drums and some good ear plugs and let him flourish.
Don’t try to make him a quarterback if his natural gifting and desire lean toward music. Don’t try to make a musician out of a child that loves soccer. Don’t try to make a bookworm out of a thrill seeker.
We all recognize giftings in our children, and we naturally want to develop those. Sometimes we see a gift, but quickly realize that they don’t have a passion for that activity, and we have to make the hard choice to sit back and let them walk away from something in which they could potentially excel. Because the fact is, talent without passion can only take us so far before it all falls apart.
How are you doing at recognizing your children’s natural bents? Do you see untapped potential in your child that you could affirm? Point them in the way they should go, and when they’re old, they won’t depart from it.
Fanciful daydreams of a life of grandeur are the things that make childhood so magical. Perhaps one of the greatest tragedies to strike the fatherless is the stripping of innocence – a building block of dreams.
My daughter and I had a few moments alone in the car last week, and she reminded me yet again of the power of a good dream. We were on our way to her gymnastics practice, and she didn’t really want to go. She was tired, she wanted to stay home and fight with play with her brothers, and she just wasn’t in the mood for a four hour workout.
After a few tense moments of whining and pouting, she quieted down and took a deep breath.
“Mom?” she asked.
I glanced at her through the rearview mirror and reminded myself that she’s still so young. Big eyes hover over soft, full cheeks and a nose dotted with fine freckles. I waited for her to speak. She is the child who needs space to prepare her thoughts, slowly and deliberately choosing each word.
“I don’t want to play soccer next year.”
I was surprised by this comment. It was random and didn’t fit the context of our previous conversation. “Okay,” I answered. “You don’t have to.”
“I just don’t see myself as a soccer player,” she said, and I bit back a smile.
“Okay.”
“And I really don’t want to play softball,” she continued, her voice strong and adamant.
I turned onto the street where her gym was located and tried to follow along with her train of thought, to connect the dots from the anger about having to leave for gymnastics and the present conversation. I had a moment of panic, wondering if she was leading up to telling me she didn’t want to do gymnastics anymore. It’s a decision I would support, but it would break my heart, because she has so much talent.
“Well what do you see yourself doing?” I asked, guiding the car into a parking place in front of the gym. I put it in park and shifted so I could look her in the eye. She glanced out the window and a small smile spread across her face.
“I see myself at the Olympics,” she said. Her voice was wistful and dreamy and I couldn’t help but grin. I know that look, and I know what she’s feeling. When I was eight, I saw myself as an Olympic gymnast, too. I remember imagining the podium, and what it would feel like to watch the flag raised with my anthem playing. I envisioned this with the images of Mary Lou Retton shimmering in my mind.
“I’m ready now,” she said. “If I’m going to go to the Olympics, I guess I have to practice, huh?”
There’s something about childhood that makes dreaming so enviable. Right now, there is no doubt in her mind that her dream of going to the Olympics will come true, and there’s no part of me that plans to altar that dream with anything resembling a dose of reality. I know that with time and age, her dreams will shift, and they will mature, and they will change.
But I don’t ever want her to stop dreaming.
Too often as adults we let reality bury our dreams in a pile of salt. We become so practical that we forget the power of a healthy dream. We don’t let our dreams grow and mature with us, and we abandon the act of dreaming altogether.
My childhood dream of making the Olympic team is no longer a reality (though I think I could still have a shot at Curling. I mean, seriously…how hard could it be?!).
But there are realistic dreams that fit my life now, and I’m tired of pushing them aside. I dream of publishing books, of working more with organizations that support orphan care, of not settling and growing comfortable with a life of ease.
I dream of keeping a clean home.
Wait…never mind. That one is about as likely as me becoming the gold medal All Around gymnast in 2016.
The fact is, I don’t have to stop dreaming any more than my eight year old does. And what’s more – I need to chase my dreams as hard as she is chasing hers. I need to push for them, even when I don’t feel like it.
