Half a year...

...and we're still here!

Man. It seems like that it was just yesterday that THIS happened:

Poor kid. It was this picture that made me worry that perhaps Jacob was going to be not so photogenic, much like his mama. I mean, in his defense he HAD just made quite a traumatic and yucky journey. But luckily for him, his looks improved.

I've pretty much been head over heels in love with this baby since day one.

This kid has grown and changed at an incredibly fast rate. People always told me that their children seemed to grow up overnight and now, I believe that can be true. 

Take a look: Jacob at 1 week, 1 month, and (skipping ahead a bit) 6 months (will have a monthly comparison photo to post as soon as his daddy, AHEM, puts it together):

Good grief.

At SIX MONTHS OLD, Jacob is quite an entertainer. Here's what we know he loves:

• His daddy: Oh mylanta. Anything that Brian does is ABSOLUTELY HILARIOUS, to Jacob that is. If I've got a not-so-fun task to do (like suctioning Jacob's nose), I'll call Brian in because goodness knows that kid isn't going to show out for his Daddy. It's simultaneously cute and sickening
• Elmo: Yeah. That's right. Our kid has learned that Elmo is awesome. I'll admit, I was afraid of the affinity-developing stage because I know whatever Jacob likes to watch means we get stuck with. But I'm cool with Elmo. He's cute. And he makes some pretty witty jokes for a 3 year old.
• EATING: You know, pediatricians will tell you that when your baby is full, he'll stop eating or refuse food. Nuh-uh. Not this kid. At 6 months old, he has a cereal and fruit each morning as well as a vegetable and fruit (or something we're eating) at night along with 6-7 feeds during the day. And he eats every single bit of it. I think I could keep offering and the kid would keep eating. He thinks food is fun and it's been fun watching him try things like avocado, bananas, and even a (very, very small) bite of a pickle. It's anything goes with him. His favorite foods though are squash and bananas.
• "Talking": He gets it honest, folks. Our little man babbles from the moment he's awake until we lay him down for the night. 
• Crawling: It's the funniest thing. The kid has shown zero interest in sitting up on his own. In fact, he's not good at it at all. But he can army-crawl like nobody's business. He's a fast little guy. Turn your back for one second and he's chewing on the dog's toys or underneath the Christmas tree, reaching out for an ornament taste-test.

I knew babies were fun, but I didn't know they were THIS much fun. Seriously. Every single moment - even the challenging ones (GROWTH SPURTS) have been absolutely worth it. This kid has shown a personality from an early age and it just keeps getting better.

Happy 6 months in the world, Jacob. 

You sure did make ours better the day you arrived.  

an update, a confession, and a calling

Life finds the Adams family (try your hardest to avoid snapping a la theme song style) at an unusual, uncomfortable, and exciting crossroads right now. Allow me to go back in time a bit to bring you up to speed.

In the spring of 2008, I had the opportunity to spend ten days in Athens, Greece on a mission trip with the college ministry of FBC Clinton, MS. It was a life changing experience in more ways than one. I can still vividly remember sitting on Mars Hill, overlooking the city of Athens, while a pastor read Acts 17 to us. In this chapter, Paul is speaking to Athenians ON MARS HILL (so we literally were sitting in the place this very message had been spoken ages before we arrived). Let me share what it says:

Paul then stood up in the meeting of Areopagus and said: "Men of Athens! I see that in every way you are very religious. For as I walked around and looked carefully at your objects of worship, I even found an altar with this inscription: TO AN UNKNOWN GOD. Now what you worship as something unknown I am going to proclaim to you. The God who made the world and everything in it is the Lord of heaven and earth and does not live in temples built by hands. And he is not served by human hands, as if he needed anything, because he himself gives all men life and breath and everything else... Acts 17:24-26

It was at this exact moment, overlooking the city of Athens and hearing these words that I knew without a doubt that God was real and that I wanted to spend the rest of my life proclaiming this very message to others around the world - whenever and wherever that meant, no matter the cost. I publicly accepted the call to missions.

Fast forward to the summer of 2012. Brian and I were discussing what our future looked like. I knew he had really been wrestling with the idea of going on the mission field but was finally beginning to feel assured of his calling. We talked about spending our lives somewhere different - giving up everything for the sake of sharing the gospel. I was all in. I was excited.

Fall 2012. We found out we were pregnant with Jacob. Suddenly, that zeal and vigor for obeying the call to go became watered down by fear and worry. With a new baby on the way, did I really want to pack up my life and move away from my family and take my child away from the safety of what we knew to be comfortable? Did I really want to take our parents' grandbaby hundreds, possibly thousands of miles away? That can't be fair to them, can it?

These doubts only multiplied after Jacob was born - for me, that is. Brian never lost his assurance and yet every time he would bring it up, I would shoot it down.

This is where the confession part comes in: For the past few months, I have been pushing and pushing and pushing for Brian to settle down in a church position because that's what I wanted. I wanted him to make the money so I could have a nice house with nice things for entertaining nice people and give my baby boy everything he could ever want. Brian would bring up the idea of missions and I would use our son as a road block. I would use the excuse of safety and family as a means to try and convince him that missions wasn't "for us". I told him something would work out and we would find a nice, happy spot to settle and all our problems would work themselves out.

They didn't. In fact, door after door after door began to close. For months I have wondered why God had allowed our lifestyle to go from comfortable to incredibly UNcomfortable so quickly. Did he not love us? Did he not care?

It wasn't until a few days ago that all of these closed doors started making sense. I found an old journal I kept when I was in college and just opened it. I wasn't wanting to reminisce and read the whole thing. I just...opened it. The entry that stared at me was the one in which I gushed about sitting on Mars Hill, hearing that message, and KNOWING that I was called to give my life to serving Him on the mission field. I read the words written by an excited and zealous young girl who trusted her safety and security to a sovereign and supreme God.

Okay, God. Okay. You win. I'm tired of fighting it.

Why had our lives suddenly taken a turn from comfort to chaos? I'll tell you why. God was trying - no, IS trying - to get my attention. So here I am, waving the white flag.

I had used every excuse imaginable to put off avoid what I knew in my heart was right.


The Bible tells us that to follow Christ we have to give up everything.
"Foxes have holes and birds of the air have nests, but the Son of Man has no place to lay his head....Follow me and let the dead bury their own dead." Matthew 8:20,22

Brian challenged me yesterday to weigh every excuse I have for not surrendering to missions against scripture. He's a sneaky punk because he knew what I would find to be true: No excuse I have is good enough to forsake the call that I know I was given. Not even my child, considering I prayed the same prayer over him when he was born that Hannah prayed over Samuel: "...I will give him to the Lord for all the days of his life..." (1 Sam. 1:11)

So there you have it. I confess to you that I have wrongfully deviated from God's will because I have been insanely selfish. And now, I'm confessing that I am tired of fighting it.

So what does all of this look like in our lives? Well, for us this means moving out of Memphis. We are packing up everything we have, selling/getting rid of a lot of stuff we own, and beginning the journey of seeing this calling out, I suppose.

As of next weekend, we will be living in Booneville, MS...with my parents. (Cue raised eyebrows from select few) -- We are using the next few months as a means to regroup. Brian is going to finish going to school this semester and graduate with his M.Div. (FINALLY) in May. In the meantime, I anticipate that we will start making preparations to go as soon as the Lord opens the door - whether that's immediately after Brian graduates or years down the road. We just know that Memphis is no longer the place for us. It's a distraction and will inevitably lead to an even further delay of following our call.

To the world, this move is a sign of weakness. No one really WANTS to move in with their parents - especially when they have a family of their own. But what I thought was a last resort has really proven to be the Lord leading us right where He wants us. We will be able to truly decipher what our next move is, hopefully chip away at our debt (dagnabbit, student loans!!), and prepare ourselves for the eventual and inevitable next step. I can't really tell you what that means. I can only tell you that we are sure that this is the right move for now.

I was afraid to tell people about this move, fearing that they would judge us or think we are incapable of taking care of ourselves. The truth is, we are! The truth is, while we've tried to take control, Jesus has swiftly broken us and undone all that we've done for the purpose of refocusing our lives. I see it now. And I am SO glad He's done it. So don't pity us, world. We aren't sad to be leaving our things. "For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also."


I don't know what the next few months look like. Brian may take a job - whether church or secular - while we wait on the Lord to officially send us. We may find ourselves in a new town once more in the meantime. I just know that I'm giving up all that I wanted so that he can do "exceedingly abundantly more than all we ask or imagine according to His great power that is at work in us" (Eph. 3:20).


And the truth is, he wants to do that for all his children. He doesn't want us to settle for what we deem comfortable or good. The call to follow Christ means radical living. It means doing things that make the world scratch its head in confusion. It may mean giving up your possessions. It may mean being homeless. It may mean living with your parents for a while (FREE DINNER, THOUGH!). Whatever it means, don't be afraid. The Sovereign God of the universe has a purpose and a plan for you. And you can be assured that it is better than anything you could have ever imagined. All you have to give up is everything. :)

So there you have it. That's what He's doing in our lives.
He's breaking it. It's SO uncomfortable. And yet, it's so exciting.


"Do we really believe He is worth abandoning everything for? Do you and I really believe that Jesus is so good, so satisfying, and so rewarding that we will leave all we have and all we own and all we are in order to find our fullness in Him? Do you and I believe Him enough to obey Him and to follow Him wherever He leads, even when the crowds in our culture - and maybe in our churches - turn the other way?"  David Platt, Radical (p.18-19)

Riches I heed not, nor man’s empty praise,
Thou mine Inheritance, now and always:
Thou and Thou only, first in my heart,
High King of Heaven, my Treasure Thou art 

When I grow up.

The other day, I was texting my friend Laura. Somewhere in the course of the conversation, we got to talking about teaching and I told her that I wasn't even sure anymore if I was supposed to be a teacher. That's kind of unfortunate seeing as that I just earned my $20,000 masters degree in education (side note: all monetary donations for the purposes of paying off loans/eating more Taco Bell are accepted). But you know, whatever. Laura asked me what I wanted to do with my life if it wasn't teaching.

"I want to have lunch with new people everyday. And blog."

Now, I realize that this is not really a REAL career or job, per se. (If it is a real job, holler at your girl.)

To be honest, I have absolutely no idea what I'm supposed to do with my life - in the way the world sees "doing something with your life", that is.

After college, I thought I was going to a be PR/Marketing specialist. And for a small time, I was. Aaaaand, I hated it. So, that was a bust. Then, I got the genius idea of becoming an English/Theatre teacher. I mean, I loved students so why not impart my knowledge Michelle Pfeiffer/Dangerous Minds style on some kiddos in a high school classroom? So for a while, I did. I even went to an expensive private university to get my masters to boost my skills in the classroom. Aaaaand, here I sit. Not in a classroom. Instead, I'm in my pjs, watching my little boy fuss at his stuffed giraffe for not continuously singing the alphabet song. It's really a fantastic job and one that I desired from the moment I found out I was pregnant. But I still can't help but wonder what my life will amount to? What can I DO to make an impact in this life?

My best friend Lindsay and I have lately talked a lot about purpose and direction. She said it best through a text message the other day: "I want my life to count, ya know?" - (This is coming from one who dropped everything to serve Jesus in Ghana -- c'mon, girl. You know you're making it count :) 

I know that this place I'm in is because God has called me to be here. It makes no financial sense for me to stay home. But God made it so very evident that this is right where He wants me.

I know what I'm really battling is worldly desires. My flesh wants more things - new furniture, a new car, a new house, a billion new purses... I see my friends making big purchases and going on extravagant vacations to places I've never heard of. I covet. I'm human.

Getting down to the nitty gritty, though, I realize that this life I'm living right now is EXACTLY what I'm supposed to be doing with my life. It's a humble one. And The Lord knows I could use a large dose of humility. Diaper duty, cleaning the kitchen, laundry, cooking, sweeping, mopping... loving on my baby, being the best wife I can be... THAT'S what God has called me to: for this season in life, at least.

The greatest part in all of this self-discovery is truly feeling the presence of God in the day-to-day stuff. Even in the most mundane tasks, I feel like God is truly pleased with what I'm doing. At the same time, I feel him knitting together something exciting for the very near future.

I guess all this is to say that I am coming to realize that God can use anyone to make any kind of impact. Whether it's through a young woman serving sacrificially in Africa, a teacher standing before a room full of chaotic students, or even a mama changing her kid's fifth dirty diaper in three hours. :)

Wherever you are, wherever He has placed you - be there. 100%. When we allow ourselves to relax in the roles he has placed us in, we see Him moving. We see purpose in the confusion.

When I grow up, I want my life to matter. And it's because of Christ that I realize it already does.

Beauty.

(photo credit to my friend, Amanda Hill - www.amphotography.us)
This photograph made me realize something.  -- Some days - no, most days, I don't like myself.

Having a healthy self-image is something I've always struggled with. I went to school with beautiful girls who always caught the eyes of the beautiful boys. In college, my campus was flooded with gracious and outstandingly gorgeous girls. I never thought I was ugly. I just never thought I was special. And, sadly, I still carry that thought around with me on occasion in the present.

Like seemingly every other woman in the world, when I look in the mirror, I don't like what I see. I'm either too pale or my hair is too flat, blah blah blah. When I am shown a photograph of myself much like that one above, I'm  not comfortable with what I see. My smile is crooked and my jaw is very strong, and I am fully aware of these features when taking pictures, so the awkwardness just BEAMS through as I try to figure out how to hide all this. When I'm in a crowd, I'm incredibly conscious of the other women around me and how beautiful they are in comparison.

Being married to a youth minister, I am constantly surrounded by or among stunning, beautiful young girls who don't have stretch marks or flabby stomachs left behind from pregnancy. They live up to the name by which we categorize them: youth. They have it. And with each passing day, I can see where I am not quite as youthful or pretty or skinny as I once was.

Things like this cause me to cower down and become a shell of who I feel I really am. And you know what? That is wrong.

The truth is, my husband thinks I'm beautiful. My baby boy thinks I'm the greatest thing on this earth - just watch him smile at me, you'll see it too. I can tell by my parents smiles when I first see them on our visits that they are proud of me. I'm blessed with in-laws who graciously love me as their own. I am not the lowly person I perceive myself to be.

Most importantly, and the truth that hit me slap in the face this morning is: I am perfect in the eyes of my Creator.

Psalm 139 reminds me that I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Ephesians 1 tells me that The Lord finds pleasure in calling me His child. I am part of a chosen generation, a royal priesthood, seated with Him in the heavenlies.

I have worth because a worthy God instilled it in me as a child in His kingdom.

If I could tell any young girl just one thing, it would be to never, ever, ever allow yourself to give in to the game of comparisons. The enemy will use that against you and shatter your self-worth which can lead down destructive roads. Know that there is always going to be someone who is better than you in some way. That doesn't diminish who you are. That just makes us different. As a daughter of Christ, we should meditate on the fact that we have worth in Him. Ephesians 1 tells us we have been given every spiritual blessing by the Father. He has blessed you, He has chosen you. That makes you more valuable than you could ever fathom! And that value is weighted by the Creator of the universe.

I'm telling this to myself today. I am beautiful and valuable and worthy because He made me that way. I may never grace the cover of a magazine or fit back into those jeans from junior year in college. My smile will never be perfect and I'll always be clumsy. But I am loved by some pretty incredible people just as I am. And I am the product of an amazing, gracious God. There is beauty in that!

The truth, according to a First Timer.

I'm not even sure how to begin this blog post. I could have some quippy jokes or funny little anecdotes, but what I really want to do is first address the parents-to-be:

THEY HAVE TOLD YOU NOTHING YOU NEED TO KNOW!

That's right. Everyone you've talked to has either lied to you or kept the secrets of parenthood from you for the sole purpose of getting sick, twisted pleasure from watching you suffer through discovering them.

That's why I'm here today.

Ladies and gentlemen, babies are something else. Obviously, they're adorable and bring your lives more joy than you ever dreamed possible (yada, yada). It's true. They do. But there's a dark side to babies - way past the urban legends of parents not getting any sleep. It's much more than that.

So I'm here to describe to you my findings: my journey into the abyss of parenting -- the things no one told me.

The Breastfed Baby:
My baby is a breastfed baby. It's not that I didn't know anything about breastfeeding going into this. I read the books. I watched the videos. I perused website after website. But no woman in my immediate family, to my knowledge, has ever breastfed. So, I didn't really have any first-hand experiences to prepare me for the inside world of breastfeeding.

To begin with: THEY NEVER STOP EATING!!! (It seems)

That's right. Your breastfed baby might as well become a permanent attachment on your bra. Just pack him down in there and go about your day. It seems to be the only logical way. I knew that breastfed babies ate more than formula babies. But for MY baby - he eats about every hour and a half -- from the time he started eating. So, if Jacob starts eating at 9 AM, he'll be eating again by 10:30. Even if it took him 45 minutes to eat. THAT LEAVES YOU NO TIME TO BRUSH YOUR TEETH OR SHOWER OR EVEN HOPE TO LOOK REMOTELY CUTE FOR YOUR SPOUSE WHEN HE RETURNS HOME FROM WORK!
Yikes. Most moms are blessed with babies that are on a 2 1/2-3 hour schedule so they get to do things like go to Target, go to lunch with friends, and go to the bathroom. My little piggy is not so giving.

Also: GROWTH SPURTS EXIST AND COME STRAIGHT FROM THE PITS OF HADES.

Maybe it's just me. Maybe I didn't read ENOUGH, but no one explained the horror of growth spurts to me. Lasting anywhere from a few days to even a week (or longer, WHO KNOWS?!), this is pretty much self-explanatory. Your baby is growing quickly and has to make up for it by - you guessed it - eating even MORE. MORE EATING. NOOOOOO! For Jacob, this has meant eating every hour on the hour. Yep. Starts at 10. Eats for 30 minutes. Wants to eat again at 11... KID, I HAVE GOT TO PUT ON DEODORANT AT SOME POINT TODAY! When Jacob hits them, he likes(demands) to be held more, too. It's exhausting. My advice to mamas-to-be? Have a whole bunch of movies and chips and dip ready cause you aren't going anywhere for a few days, sucker.

Next on the list: THE GUY DOESN'T HAVE TO DO SQUAT.

Okay, that's not entirely true. Brian can change a diaper like a world-champion and he's pretty excellent at getting monster burps out of our little dude. But since mama is the one with the food, she's the one doing the MOST work - notice I didn't say MOST OF THE work. Your man can load the dishwasher and the washing machine -- if he remembers they exist. And trust me, once he's getting down to the bare minimum on undies, he'll remember.

In addition: TARGET BECOMES A FAINT MEMORY.

That's right. You get little bit fed and burped and in his car seat, thinking you're gonna pack in a lovely trip to Target just for a few things and *maybe* a new throw pillow (deny, deny, deny the buy when hubby asks though). So you get your little cooing bundle of joy to Target and put the car seat in the cart. You're strolling along, picking up necessities first (just in case, you know?) and decide that maybe you can take a peek at the bathing suits (like you're going anywhere this summer HAHA). The minute you pick up that cute little tankini that JUST so happens to be on sale - WHAMBAM - Baby is no longer amused by Target. You do what any parent would do - try to comfort and coo and all that good stuff, all while ignoring the looks of disgust from old lady McGee who probably thinks you're abusing your kid. (Why she is in the bathing suit section is beyond me.) You're not just gonna leave over one crying session, right? But then, you notice the clock and see that time enough has indeed passed for little piggy to be hungry again. Bye, bye, Target. Off to the imprisonment chambers of lactation once more.

Throwing this one in: NURSING COVERS - SWEET SALVATION?

Nursing covers were invented for breastfeeding mamas to be able to have a life outside of the home with their babies beside them. They keep us from having to show too much skin. You know, God forbid a mama nurse her baby and let a little side boob show. People will have a fit. Never mind that she is feeding on the bench right in front of Victoria's Secret where the window models are showing WAY more than she does. In comes the cover. Just throw it on and nurse your kid and no one will even give you a second glance. Wrong. People can still be jerks. Most won't say anything but you can still tell by their stares that they want to know WHY you aren't feeding that baby at home. (Refer them to my first point.) Also? They're kind of hard to get used to. Just call me Captain Awkward with mine because I'm still far from graceful using them. Oh well. A mama's gotta get out.

There's so much more I could add. But I'm finding most of my issues are coming from breastfeeding. I'll be honest, I've thought about quitting so many times. I've been tempted to open the cans of formula I do have around the house (the free samples, not that I've bought any). But, in my heart, I know that I'm doing what's best for my baby. Formula can't hold a candle to breastmilk. This is called sacrifice, my friends. Yes, I would love to go out on a date longer than 45 minutes with Brian. I'd love to be able to hand over the middle of the night feeding to him or Mom or whoever is visiting.

But the fact of the matter is, this is exactly how God intended it to be. As a mother, I was designed to be able to nourish my child. Women have been doing it for centuries and I can stick this out, knowing at the end that I did something selfless and wonderful for my growing baby. (And hey, it's a free meal for him!)

All in all, I could have it so much worse. I mean, have you seen my kid? He's gorgeous. (No seriously. He is.) He sleeps so well at night. He's easy to manage during the day (barring a few fussy days, but that's life). He doesn't have colic or anything that makes him a terror. Yes, I've cried a lot of days but that's because I'm just trying to figure MYSELF out in this new role of motherhood.

I know that eventually, I'll be a pro at all this I've complained about. I'm already leaps and bounds ahead of where I was when we first began. Sooner or later, I won't care who's ogling me as I feed him in a restaurant and go about life as usual. And my family and friends who are uncomfortable with that will just have to get used to it. Life goes on.

But for those of you first timers who are about to embark on this wonderful, frustrating, amazing journey - just be warned: things will come at you that nobody and no book will honestly tell you about. Just go with the flow. Embrace the scent of spit-up and the messy up-do. Your life isn't about you anymore, anyway. Warn your husbands, though. And give the no-shower, no-makeup routine a test drive before baby arrives. If you're blessed like I am, he could care less.

I look forward to thing slowing down and a nice schedule starting to emerge with this kid. But until then, I'm just gonna put on the same outfit for the third day in a row, scarf down my lunch before baby wakes up, and say COME AT ME, PARENTING. I GOT THIS.

How it happened.

No book or class could have ever prepared me for this. No dream could ever have come close to the real thing. It was nothing like I imagined. And it was everything I ever hoped it could be.

Jacob David Adams

May 8, 2013

3:36 PM

8 lbs, 6 oz

21.25 inches long

It all started Tuesday night - May 7. I had a doctor's appointment that afternoon - 2 days overdue and just checking on things before my scheduled induction the following Saturday morning. Brian and I ate Taco Bell for lunch that day and laughed at the prospect of that being our "last meal" so-to-speak. We also laughed about the implications that could have for the delivery table...(little did we know). We came home and walked our butts off - about 2 miles. Still no sign of Jacob.

About 7 PM that night, I started cramping (don't worry men, I'm not going to use a lot of ugly/gross terms - you may keep reading if you're scared). I didn't think a thing of it. Seriously. Not a thing. It wasn't until about 8:00 that I realized they were happening steadily and at a time-able pace. So, I pulled out a piece of paper and pen and very discreetly started writing down the times I was feeling these "pains". Pain is a relative word, I guess, because it was more discomfort than anything. I didn't tell Brian at first. I didn't want to get our hopes up, only to go to bed and wake up with no baby -- we had been down that road a few times the week prior. 

Eventually, I told Brian. He nodded calmly and continued watching tv - checking in every few minutes without hitting the panic button. I finally got the courage to tell my mom around 9:00. The text conversation went something like this:

Me: I think I'm having contractions. About 7 minutes apart.

Mom: I'M COMING NOW DON'T MOVE.

...Ok, maybe I exaggerated a bit. But seriously, Mom was ready to jump in the car. I told my mom that I wasn't really concerned because it didn't hurt. I was just uncomfortable. She called me immediately and asked me to describe what I was feeling. I did. Then she said it: "Baby, you're in labor."

Wuh-oh.

Simultaneously, Brian was on the phone with his mom. At this time, my "uncomfortable feelings" were about 5-7 minutes apart. Brian's mom said the same to him: "Brian, Laura Leigh is in labor."

Wuh-oh.

So. This was it. This was it? Was it? We both got dressed and stood around at the same time. In an excited/unbelieving daze, we made sure we grabbed whatever we needed that was not already packed: insurance card, phone chargers, iPad (entertainment!), and of course - makeup. A girl's gotta give birth appropriately.

We got to the hospital at 10:45, checked in, and waited. And waited. And waited. Oh, and waited. 

FINALLY, we got into an LDR (labor/delivery/recovery) room at midnight. I had the sweetest labor nurse, Mary, who got me hooked up to the monitors and got my IV port all settled in. She was fabulous. So sweet.. She left us for an hour and came back to check my progress.

"Well, your contractions are coming 2-3 minutes apart, but you haven't dilated any more. I have to call the doctor to see what she wants to do." ...We knew that meant we might be sent home. She saw the disappointment in our eyes.... "Don't worry. I'm a big patient advocate. You're not going anywhere."

Luckily for us, my doctor decided to keep me. This WAS it! Since I was contracting heavily, she decided to augment labor with pitocin. Mary assured me this was the best way to go. She asked if I wanted an epidural. Before she could even finish the sentence, I half-shouted "YES". By then, my contractions had reached the "unmistakably painful" level. 

Our parents and my brother got to the hospital around 3 AM. No one slept. Not me, not Brian... no one. The excitement was building!

At 4:30, the anesthesiologist came and gave me the epidural. I was terrified. But to be honest? I've endured worse pains with paper cuts. Once that sucker was put in, I was in HEAVEN. Didn't feel a thing. I was totally comfortable and ready to sleep until the big show started...Sleep never came. That will play a huge role in the pushing part of this story.

Fast-forward a few hours. At noon, I was at 9 cm. I was tired from being up all night and getting increasingly more frightened about the delivery. I hadn't eaten in hours and only had ice chips to comfort the extreme thirst I was experiencing. By that time, I was being a complete grouch but didn't have the nerve to ask my family to leave so I could rest. That changed, eventually. I asked everyone but Brian to go. We hugged goodbye, and I cried. What my family doesn't know is that I was only crying because I was so hungry and so tired. Fear had left my body and was being overtaken by exhaustion.

A few minutes before 1:00, my nurse and doctor waltzed in. They saw me crying and I brushed it off. They were totally encouraging and assured me this baby would be born by 2:15 at the latest. I was empowered then! "Only an hour and 15 minutes to go until I can have something to drink...er, meet my baby!" An hour and 15 minutes my tushie.

1:00: The first pushes happen.

...Now, tell me something: Why does Hollywood make this part out to be so terrifying? Because I'll be honest? Pushing felt SO GOOD. It was relieving, it was easy. Aside from feeling like I was going to give myself an aneurysm, I was feeling confident.

But something happened along the way. That exhaustion I had told you about? It kept getting worse with each push. I began to get lightheaded and incoherent. From that point on, mostly everything seems like a big blur.

I do remember hearing the nurses and doctor commenting on how Jacob was getting lower, but my body was fighting to stretch all the ligaments necessary to actually deliver. That's what took so long - encouraging my body to spit that sucker out! 

When I had to push, I pushed like a beast. But, in between contractions, I passed out. That's no lie. I literally passed out/slept hard for 2 minutes each time. I would wake up only to say "pressure", which signaled to my nurse and doctor that it was time to push. I would bear down for 45 seconds and pass out again. Time passed SO slowly. What seemed like hours to me was only about 5 minutes to everyone else.

Then...Jacob's heart rate declined. I scarcely remember anything from delivery but I do remember watching Dr. Pilgrim watch the monitor like a hawk. I looked at Brian and saw the concern in his face. My mind knew what was happening, but the seriousness of the situation failed to truly register with me. Immediately, my nurse placed an oxygen mask over my face and PRAISE JESUS (seriously), Jacob's heart rate picked back up.

Something about that oxygen gave me the strength to go into mega-mama mode. From the time they placed it on me, it took 4 contractions to get that baby out. To me, it felt like an hour -I was still in an incoherent daze. All I heard was "push, push, push, push...." I remember seeing two others come in the room with a large table of instruments and a gown for my doctor. 

I had no idea this meant that I was about to meet my son. I just laid there, half-passed out, and half-singing that song "Not For A Moment"  by Meredith Andrews and quoting Phil. 4:13 ( a bit out of context, but helpful for the moment). It's so funny that even in the state of delirium I was in, I felt God's presence - quietly calming me and giving me the strength to carry on physically and emotionally.

A few minutes later, I felt a few drops of what I thought to be water on my face. It wasn't water. It was Brian's tears as he watched Jacob take his first breath. I missed that part because I was completely focused on the sheer joy on my sweet husband's face as he saw his son for the first time and cried tears of joy. It was the most beautiful moment of my life thus far. A year ago, those were tears of sorrow and grief and at that moment, the Lord had brought us a gift of redemption and joy. 

I didn't cry like I thought I would. Mainly, I was overcome with relief - physically and emotionally. I no longer had to exert all my energy to get that baby out. And most importantly, the baby was out and was PERFECTLY HEALTHY. Thank you, Father. They placed Jacob on my chest so I could help clean him off and comfort him. It was a totally euphoric moment.

As the doctor worked to finish up with my body - and I won't go into the details, but I will say that birthing did some extremely heavy damage - I watched Brian as he watched the baby nurses weigh, measure, and monitor Jacob. That man smiled from wall-to-wall. Pride was dripping off his entire being. I, too, was enamored with Jacob but I was more elated watching Brian. As typical and as mushy as it sounds, I had never loved him more. 

Once the doctor and nurses finished (a whole 45 minutes later), we had Jacob all to ourselves. Lots of kisses, lots of hugs, lots of smiles. Anyone could say what they wanted, but we knew we had just witnessed the birth of the most beautiful, most perfect baby in the world. Seriously. Look at that face and tell me differently. :)

So after 3 hours of waiting anxiously, our family came back to meet the newest addition. I got my glass of water (HALLELUJAH CHORUS ENSUED), and everything just became another big blur.

A few days in the hospital and now we are home. Jacob is perfect. I mean it. SO. PERFECT. He only cries when he's half naked - diaper changes/bath time. Other than that, he eats like a champ and sleeps so soundly that these horror stories of "the newborn phase" seem silly to me. Yes, we are tired. Yes, I miss sleeping through the night (even though I haven't done that in months). Yes, all my clothes now smell like spit up and I've been peed on twice. But OH, is it worth it! I would give up every hour of sleep for the rest of my life for this beautiful, perfect gift! 

The Lord is so faithful. This is but one way in our lives He has shown Himself to be wholly good. From start to finish, He has had his hand on this pregnancy, on Jacob, on me, and on Brian. What a blessing the journey has been and will continue to be. This is a testament to the grace and provision of my Father. 

"For the LORD is good. His lovingkindness is everlasting and His faithfulness to all generations." Psalm 100:5

Wrapping it all up.

Well, I suppose since I haven't written a post in...forever...that I might as well jot a few thoughts down while I'm still pregnant.

Truth be told, I felt an urgency to do so. Tonight I am experiencing a myriad of feelings. I've tried describing it to a friend of mine as best as I know how but I cannot truly express what I'm feeling. As I told her, it's almost as if my spirit is eerily calm and reassuring me that my baby boy is coming fast and soon. I've been waiting and waiting and waiting for a sign and all of a sudden, I have this peace that he is but a few short moments from my arms.

At the same time, I am so physically psyched that I can hardly stay still. We came in from dinner tonight and without even thinking about it, I just started cleaning every inch of our apartment. I scrubbed toilets, mirrors, and sinks. I emptied the dishwasher and put in a new load. I cleaned the counter tops. I threw out trash. I organized bottles and boxes of baby stuff that Jacob won't use immediately. I set out the coffee for my parents when they come to stay while we are in the hospital. I organized the pantry. I wiped down coffee tables. And... I THOUGHT ABOUT cleaning out the refrigerator, but figured I'd let Mom have a go at that when she comes to stay that first week. Some things are just a bit TOO much, ya know. :)

I don't know. Tonight I just feel...different. Maybe this doesn't mean he's coming within the next few hours (I WISH I WISH I WISH). But perhaps it means that I have finally accepted the fact that he's coming on his own time - and it will be the PERFECT time. I'm still believing God will deliver this child to us naturally, rather than by induction. But even if that isn't the case, I've got one week until this blessing - this instrument of God's redemption in grief - is HERE. In a matter of days, our lives will change for eternity. I am overwhelmed with excitement and shockingly peaceful about it all at the same time.

Thanks be to God for His good gifts.

This week, I learned...

...that I would have never survived the first trimester had I had morning sickness.

YES, I know thousands of women endure morning sickness like pros. YES, I know that you, little lurker, are probably one who has mastered the art of the daily HCG-induced upchuck. I don't need your championed stories or to look at your war medals. I get it. I'm just telling you...

I couldn't have done it. So this is a post to say how extremely grateful I am that my first and second trimesters were free of the "hoaky croaky."

After enduring 48 hours of the stomach virus this past week in which I witnessed myself become a geyser of epic proportions, I can fully say that I am a weenie. I am a sissy. I cried bawled my eyes out after every face-to-face encounter with the throne.

Brian had to endure this bug himself a few months ago and took it like a champ in comparison to my reactions. Whereas I couldn't even stand to be within ear-shot of him when he was vomiting, he took the role of caregiver to a whole new level as he stood over my shoulder, ready to clean up whatever mess was made in the process. He is superman, soon to be superDAD.

So I felt it absolutely necessary to thank God, my body, and baby Jacob for making this pregnancy a fairly easy one thus far. Had I been subjected to morning sickness, I am fairly sure I'd have no friends by now due to the incessant whining and never-ending "woe-is-me" stories that would inevitably have surfaced over and over and over...and over.

And as far as I'm concerned, I wouldn't wish the stomach bug on my worst enemy. Unless my worst enemy was Stephanie Meyer and whatever sad person wrote 50 Shades of Grey - because sometimes, you just gotta get real with punishment.

Not for a moment.

Sometimes it's really easy to get so caught up in day-to-day chaos that you forget how far the Lord has brought you. It's so easy to be so enthralled with the new gifts and things to come that you fail to truly realize that God has carried you out of something you never thought you'd escape.

2012 was the hardest year for Brian and me yet. In April, we lost a baby that we so greatly anticipated and rejoiced over. The weeks that followed after losing our precious child were filled with doctors visits and check-ups that served only as a sore reminder of what would never be - or what we thought would never be. The physical and health issues that arose from that situation within my body seemed to toy at my heart, assuring me I would never have the opportunity to carry a child.

Those were some long months. I never really realized the darkness that I was walking in. I never lost faith in God or His plans for us, but I longed for my child every day more than I was willing to admit. I begged and pleaded God to "fix it." Every day was a battle to convince myself that I was okay. The problem truly was that I had begun to meditate on my hurt rather than the Healer. I was so stubborn. And sometimes I still am.

Not only did we lose our first, but we endured some true hardships in ministry. Brick walls. Painful ones. It became so daunting and exhausting. The worst part was watching Brian struggle so. The hardest part was taking that step of faith when God released us of our burden. It was a relief to have time to breathe and seek Him again, but we took a hit financially. Immediately, we let the flesh overtake our worries: what now? How will we ____? Where do we go?  We knew God had led the way to where we were, but there were so many unanswered questions ahead of us. Most of the time, instead of just breathing and giving it all up in faith to Him, we tried to answer them ourselves. Every time we tried that route, we were just knocked down. Oh, ye of little faith.

There is hope, should oceans rise and mountains fall. HE NEVER FAILS.

Praise God for His promises and His provision.

I can't say that I know 2013 will be a golden year for us. I know this year holds its hardships and heartaches just like any other. But I can tell you that He has already  begun a mighty work in our lives - one that reminds me that He is FOR us and not against us. One that reminds me that all things work together for GOOD for those who love the Lord and are called according to His purpose.

In 2013, we will, by the grace of God, meet our son. We will hold him in our arms. Even if only for a moment, I know the Lord has promised me this: I will fulfill my desire to be a mother. I don't know if that gift will be for the rest of my life or only for a few days or moments. Anything can happen. But Jacob is a blessing. No matter the outcome, this baby is a reminder that GOD IS FAITHFUL. He does not leave us in the darkness. God has overcome all our heartache and all our pain. I am humbled at the thought of it.

This year, God will show us that next step. He will show us why He's put us through this time of testing. He has already shown us so much through it. He's already begun answering prayers and giving us direction. We've grown stronger as a couple and closer to Christ because of His unending love and provision. We look forward to what's right on the horizon with excitement, knowing that He and ONLY He could have done such a great work. And we will both vow to live out whatever calling He has for us in such a way that others will be able to look at our lives and see JESUS splashed across every facet of it. That's our deepest desire.

I say all this to tell you that I am truly in awe of how far God has brought us in these and so many more areas. He has been holding us all along, even when we failed to recognize it. How wonderful it is to be called children of God.

He was faithful yesterday. He has been faithful today. He will continue to be faithful tomorrow.

You were singing in the dark
whispering Your promise
even when I could not hear
I was held in Your arms
carried for a thousand miles to show
not for a moment did You forsake me