March 14, 2012
3:59pm
8 lbs 2.5ozs 20 1/4 inches
Absolutely stunning in every way.
We couldn't possibly be more in love...
Photos and details coming SOON!!
The Mysterious 'Birth Box'
My husband came home with this tucked under his arm last week, promptly adding it to our pile of stuff packed and ready to go to the birth center. He acted very nonchalant and wouldn't tell me anything about it, except to say that I can't open it until I officially go into labor.
Here's what I know:
It's rather heavy.
And sounds like it has multiple parts.
It isn't a present, it's a 'birth box'. What the heck is a 'birth box'??
And that isn't his handwriting on the tag, although it is from him.
(That means someone had to help him. And I'm sure that person knows what this is. Although I can't quite figure out who...)
Hmmmm.... What could this mean?!!
Baffled.
Guess you'll just have to remain in suspense with me ;-)
39 Weeks
It's like being 8-years-old again anticipating Christmas morning. It's all you think about. It keeps you up at night. It makes you giggly and giddy and terribly anxious in such a wonderful way.
People stare at you constantly, especially little girls (which I find so endearing). Strangers stop you and wish you well, congratulate you, comment on how lovely you look, ask you all sorts of questions as if you're the best of friends.
It really is beautifully mysterious and affirming of what it truly means to a woman.
So many moma's have told me how they miss being pregnant when all is said and done. They miss the tiny movements, the intimacy of creating a life inside their very own bodies. The long for the days when it was so easy to protect and guard the little one in their bellies, when the world at large wasn't totally intimidating.
Yes, yes I'm definitely ready to hold this baby now, no doubt. But in the same breath I want to savor these last few days as well. I don't ever want to forget the mystery, the sacredness of pregnancy. It's breathtaking.
Baring My Soul
Crawling into bed a few nights ago Josh says to me, “By the way, I want to see more on your blog, more posts with depth. You haven’t been doing much of that lately. Don’t get me wrong, everything you’ve been doing is definitely fun, but there’s something missing…”
I caught my breath, surprised he’d even noticed. I felt a bit ashamed, “I know. You’re absolutely right. I’m kind of… blocked.”
He looked at me quizzically, “What does that mean? Like writer’s block?”
“Sort of. Thing is I can still write all day long, I just have this wall up specifically when it comes to anything raw and vulnerable. I’ve been trying to process past it for months now but I just feel...stuck.” It almost felt painful just saying it out loud.
He stared at me for a moment, a knowing, compassionate look registering in his eyes. He understood the hurt, the woundedness I’d been struggling with, “Oh. I get it. I do. Why don’t you talk thru it. Maybe that’ll help…”
Grateful for the nudge and his willingness to listen, I started processing right there in that moment and continued on and off thru the weekend. By the time I had talked it all out, I felt like I’d taken a long, hot, cleansing shower. My soul felt clean, even healed in a way. And I knew with certainty what I needed to do next...
I read something from Anne Lamott very recently that cut straight to the heart of the matter, straight to my heart, in fact:
I often ask my students to scribble down in class the reason they want to write, why they are in my class, what is propelling them to do this sometimes-excruciating, sometimes-boring work. And over and over, they say in effect, “I will not be silenced again.” …at some point they stopped telling what they saw because when they did, they were punished. Now they want to look at their lives—at life—and they don’t want to be sent to their rooms for doing so.
I suddenly felt entirely understood. Months before I had spoken honestly, truthfully, lovingly, and I was punished. The force of the punishment was so severe that I recoiled from the blow. I withdrew, quietly removing my heart from harm’s way, and to date haven’t extended it again. But reading Anne’s words a provoking revelation struck me violently, shifting into view as if it’d been lurking in my peripheral just out of sight, as if I’d known all along but couldn’t quite capture it consciously. And it made me angry: I’d been silenced. In fact, I’d allowed myself to be silenced. In an instant it all became so vividly clear, and clarity brought immediate resolution.
I wouldn’t let it happen again. I wouldn’t.
I’m grateful to say that with a great deal of prayer and effort I had been able to disentangle my heart from the hurt months ago, followed shortly thereafter by my head. (that’s typically how it works for me… it’s a process) But I failed to realize the profound impact the whole ordeal had on my creative process. Because my head and heart weren’t still involved, because I was choosing to walk in forgiveness each and every day, I never made the connection. I didn’t see it. I knew something was off when it came to my artistic process, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on what.
The word “silenced” struck me. Like dominos falling in line, I made the connections. I saw the enemy’s strategy for exactly what it was, and it made me livid.
This recent revelation in mind, I am declaring today: I will NOT. Let it happen. Again. I won’t.
But in order to do that, I have to be honest about where I’ve been. Transparency is what keeps a person free. If I want to reap a harvest of authentic creativity, I have to sow those very seeds. (which is exactly what I’m doing today) I have to shine a bright light into the darkened corners of my heart, the ones I’d rather no one see, and expose the terrifying truths that lie hidden there. Those dark crevices are precisely the blockages that have robbed me creatively. Today, I’m exposing them. I’m dislodging them. I refuse to fear them any longer.
So here we go…
~The truth is, in the past many months I experienced such depth of hurt that it couldn’t be put into words.
~The truth is, I was met with the sad, overwhelming realization that sometimes you can love a person so deeply, so completely, so honestly that it exhausts you… and still that won’t be enough. They’ll walk away anyway. And you’ll be left to somehow make peace with that.
~The truth is, real humility isn’t easy. It’s painful. Silently holding your ground when you know you’re being blatantly lied to, or about. When you’re being falsely accused, ridiculed, your very character called into question. You fall on the sword again and again, and each and every time it’s excruciating all the same.
~The truth is, it’s terrifying to realize you’ve trusted someone with your hopes and dreams, fears and frustrations, the raw truth of your humanity, good, bad, ugly… only to realize you shouldn’t have.
~The truth is, betrayal has the power to crush hope. It rocks your sense of safety so violently that often times if can’t ever be reestablished.
~The truth is, it hurts deeply when you’ve sown seed after seed of loyalty, only to find yourself reaping the opposite. (at least in that particular garden row—though God is ever faithful to bring tremendous harvest elsewhere)
~And the last truth, the one I’m most ashamed of… is that I allowed these things to silence me. I allowed the enemy to taunt me, to play with my heart, to ridicule me day in, day out. In effect, to utterly and completely silence me.
My vulnerability was shaken to the core. My trust shattered. My sense of safety completely lost. I questioned everything there was to question, multiple times over, feeding the doubt-fueled frenzy. I felt sorry for myself. I played the victim. I over-analyzed. I licked my wounds. And I hoped and waited in silence for truth to be realized, to somehow be justified in the wrong that was done me.
But justification never came.
Because although I couldn’t see it then, He had better. And any kind of justification would have ruined the refining process going on inside me. He intended to use this for my good, His glory. So He let it hurt. He let it linger. Until I understood that He had better. And embraced it.
The bigger truth is and ever will be (this is where I stumbled yet again) that God alone is our hope. And every single time I put hope in anything outside of Him even in the tiniest way, I find myself sorely and devastatingly disappointed.
And secondly, a truth that trumps all else (and where He proved Himself yet again), is that He always has better. If He allows us to walk thru heartbreak, there is always redemption on the other side. If we ask for bread, He won’t give us a stone. (Matt 7:9) It isn’t who He is. He’s our Redeemer. Not sometimes, not on occasion, always.
The glory of walking with God on this side of heaven is to experience life, and life abundantly. As Believers, we never have to settle unless we so choose. For a while there, I was attempting to settle. I was trying my best to accept so-so when He had brilliant. I simply can’t put into words how exceedingly grateful I am that He didn’t relent in His discipline, in refining and teaching me at every turn, in refusing to let me settle for less than His absolute best.
And yes, in the midst of all the hurt and disillusionment I allowed my voice to be silenced. I cowered in the corner for a bit and licked my wounds. But I’m done with that now. Once exposed I don’t tolerate the enemy’s stupidity, I promise you that.
So this, well, this is the end. In a few short days I’ll be entering a fresh, breathtakingly beautiful new season… motherhood. And I will not take this with me. I will not be silenced a day more. My daughter will know me as a woman who speaks the truth, who stands for truth, who revels in truth even when it means personal sacrifice.
She will know me as a woman who cannot be silenced.
The End.
Or better yet... The Beginning.
Vanilla Chai Banana Smoothie
I don't remember the last time a beverage made me so happy. I can't stop drinking these. One part tea, one part smoothie, one part heaven... oh man. They're divine.
Being in the last few weeks of pregnancy has meant I don't have much of an appetite. Juice, fruit, tea... that's about the extent of what appeals at the moment. I've been doing lots of smoothies with greek yogurt to get some decent protein, but my 'normal' diet has sort of been shelved for the moment. At 37 weeks I've only gained 26 pounds, so listening to my body has certainly been the best route. That said, if tons of beverages are what's appealing at the moment, then tons of beverages it shall be!
But this, oh my word, I'm not kidding. It's rockin' my world. It's so decadent it almost feels sinful.
Vanilla Chai Banana Smoothie
-chai tea, brewed fairly strong
-almond milk (or you could use regular, soy, whatever)
-one whole ripe banana
-a good splash of vanilla
-tablespoon or so of honey
-generous shake of cinnamon
-few drops of stevia, to taste (you could omit this, but I like it sweet!)
You really should freeze the chai into ice cubes first, but I haven't had the patience. Freezing will create more of a milkshake or smoothie-like consistency. Same goes for the banana. But I've simply been blending the above and pouring it directly over ice. (More like an iced coffee concotion.) And let me tell you, I'd take this over a frappuccino or milkshake any day of the week! It's. SO. Delicious.
Try her out! Can't imagine it'd be anything less than love... ;-)
Celebrating New Life
Our Dallas baby shower was truly lovely. Tea and scones, antique china, hosted at a wine bar/cellar that itself is absolutely stunning. My hostesses rented out their private building next door, with beautifully arranged seating areas for easy conversation, candles and wine barrels scattered about, breathtaking photos of European vineyards adorning the walls. We asked that people come and go at leisure staying as little or as long as they'd like, no pressure.
It was so nice to see so many people we love in such a setting, many driving hours just to drop in for a bit. Childhood best friends, colleagues, grandparents, cousins and aunts, our beautiful church family, on and on...
Erin took dozens and dozens of photos from black and whites to standard, but she also captured a few on her 1976 vintage Cannon. I'm totally in love with them. The lighting and ambiance... gorgeous. Makes me want a film camera, like, right this second.
Because film can be really tricky particularly on a vintage camera she didn't take a ton of these, but here's a tiny taste for ya (by the way, these photos are entirely unedited):
Such a beautiful day. The sweetest well wishes and penned prayers, adorable gifts, dozens of baby girl name guesses. (Which by the way, there were some really good ones! A few people got awfully close... ;-) We will truly treasure the day, the faces, and the memories forever. Thank you, dearest friends, for being with us to celebrate new life. It meant the world to us.
And thank you to my amazing, love-them-more-than-words hostesses, as well. Shannon and Erin. Can't imagine what I'd do without you.
(And no this is not a film shot, obviously and sadly. But it is way cheesy cute. ;-)