26.5 Weeks Big

 Pregnancy update. This is not necessarily a pretty update. Just a real one haha 

Brain dump beginning now:

I'm officially feeling it. All of it. When baby isn't kicking my bladder, he's hugging my lungs. When I feel so hungry I might die, I can only eat three bites before I feel so full I might die. Every muscle and joint below my ribs is in full-fledged survival mode. My belly band is such a huge help, but also a double-edged sword. It fixes one set of problems while introducing a new set. Still, it's nice to have options. **Choose your pain**

Speaking of pain, I'm dealing with an endometriosis flare. UNCOOL, BODY. UNCOOL. For a long while there during this pregnancy, my endo symptoms were sleeping peacefully. The last few weeks have seen a ramping up in discomfort and light pain, and this week brought actual pain. Cursesssss.

Braxton-Hicks are going nice and strong. They've been here all along, but the bigger the uterus, the bigger the feels. So that's fun. 

Baby is so wiggly! He's constantly dancing, stretching, swimming, punching, and kicking. His recreation routine is second to none. My hunger to hold him and kiss his squishy face is practically tangible. 

My belly is officially a table upon which I can rest my eating vessels. 

The energy and umph it takes to leave the house after 4 PM is unreal. That's about when my mind and body begin to calculate how close bedtime is, and anything that interferes with that calculation is my literal enemy. 

Xoxoxo

The Ultrasound Says... boy!

 It's a boy! 

Wednesday morning was spent anticipating a 12 o'clock appointment where the doctor was supposed to check things out and let us know if baby is a boy or a girl. I was so excited/nervous/worried/happy/delirious going into this scan. The kids were also lowkey freaking out. They wanted to know baby's sex so badly, and they were thrilled to be coming along. 

First of all, the heartbeat popped right up, so that worry was immediately put to rest. Then I let myself notice the wiggly baby on the screen, and I was somehow shocked that it's a real baby. Everything was looking real great, but the little booger was sitting upright with his legs crossed. We couldn't get a good look. We tried a transvaginal ultrasound with equally fruitless results. Doc told us we could come back later to try again if we wanted to. 

We decided that we wanted to come back. So, we stopped by the desk and scheduled another appointment for 2:45. We left the office and ran a couple of errands before returning home for a quick lunch. We ran out the door at 2:38 and made it to the office close enough to 2:45. :) During our time away, I had made a concerted effort to not let myself pee. I had drunk plenty of fluid and eaten food. I'm not sure I can take credit for baby cooperating at this point, but I know I did my part! As soon as the ultrasound began, Doc said that the baby had completely flipped. We got a nice and clear shot of his manhood. The kids each had a turn to say what they thought the baby was, based on the image captured on the screen. We had spent part of the morning discussing the signs to look for on an ultrasound. This baby made it very easy. They all saw that penis!

I'm feeling so incredibly grateful to reach this point. Every passing day with no complications feels like such a gift. 

We're excited to know there's another little boy in our family! Milton is the most excited haha. He's already mentioned how he'll beat him up when he's old enough, which is honestly all a mom could ever want. *tear* *eyeroll* That's the spirit, Milton!

Lillie was the only one of the kids who wanted a girl, but she got over it pretty quickly. She's excited to be a big sister. 

Emma is 100% geared up to be a second mama, even calling herself as much. She knows how valuable her help is, and I can't even deny it!

I love crowded tables

    Alrighty, I have some thoughts. This week’s reading in “Come, Follow Me” includes a reference to “the supper of the Lord”, which is mentioned in Luke 14.

    A feast of fat things was prepared, and the certain man who made this great supper, to which many had been invited, commanded his servant to go and fetch those who had been invited. The servant did this, and everyone he spoke with gave an excuse as to why they couldn’t come to this dinner they had previously agreed to attend. Their excuses were fairly common, everyday things—things that could have easily been reprioritized in the interest of keeping their commitment. One of them needed to go look at land. In my opinion, that could literally happen at any point on any day. Another one was married. The other one had bought livestock. With a little effort, these things can be planned around.

    The servant returned home and informed his master of these new developments. The master of the house, being angry—most likely because he had gone through the trouble of preparing a feast for his friends who were now blowing him off—commanded his servant to go into the streets of the city and get anyone who wanted to attend and invite them to the great supper. This isn’t just dinner. This is a great supper. A feast. The master of this house invested time, money, and thought into this great supper. Imagine how he felt when his friends chose to not attend. 

    No matter. There are plenty of grateful people who would be happy to attend, and that’s exactly who the servant brought to the house. He gathered the poor, the maimed, the halt, and the blind. And if you think about it, many who fit those descriptions can’t bring themselves to dinner of their own accord. The servant had to have assisted them to the house. Not only is he gathering the “lesser” of their community, he is serving them in the midst of invitation. 

    So, the servant has been busy with these new invitations. He manages to gather all these people into the home, but sees that there is yet room. He tells him master, and the lord tells his servant to continue gathering people. He tells him to look beyond the streets of the city. He commands his to go into the highways and hedges. He sends to him look for people who aren’t easy to find, so that they may also be invited to this great supper and his “house may be filled”. There is nobody who isn’t invited to this great supper.

    Growing up, family dinners were always at their best when everyone was home, attempting to gather around a table that was barely big enough. As the family grew, we definitely outgrew the table, but we didn’t outgrow family dinner. Even if you were on the couch, you were part of whatever feast Mom had cooked up. Shoot, even if you weren't in the family and just happened to be present, you were part of the feast. In the midst of utter chaos, you could see the joy in her eyes when all of us were gathered in. In the midst of that same chaos, even when his eye was twitching with panic because WHO ARE ALL THESE PEOPLE, you could see the pride in Dad’s eyes at knowing we were all HIS people, even if we’d somehow multiplied into an unruly crowd who makes a lot of noise simply by existing.

    The missing people were always the easiest to notice. It didn’t matter if there were 10 people or 30 people, we always discussed who was missing and why. It never feels complete when everyone isn’t there.

    Even with a house full of people he didn’t know, all of whom were considered to be nothing by the society in which they lived, the master of that house, the lord of that feast, recognized those who were missing. He knew there was still room for more, and he knew where to find them. His great supper meant nothing if he couldn’t share it with everyone.

    I hope that any time I am called by the Lord to attend a feast or share a kindness, I'm not so busy being caught up in the mundane daily tasks that I make the mistaking of not prioritizing His invitation to join Him.

    There is a song written and performed by The Highwomen called, “Crowded Table” that teaches a similar principle of sharing the best of what we have. I have loved listening to it since it was originally released because it always makes me think of family dinners and the love of my Savior. He wants a house with a crowded table, too.

**I obviously do not own any rights to this song. I just really love the message and how universally applicable it is. 

"For a little season"

 D&C 51:16-17, 19

“And I consecrate unto them this land for a little season, until I, the Lord, shall provide for them otherwise, and command them to go hence;

“And the hour and the day is not given unto them, wherefore let them act upon this land as for years, and this shall turn unto them for their good.

“And whoso is found a faithful, a just, and a wise steward shall enter into the joy of his Lord, and shall inherit eternal life.”

I promise I'm not as "spiritual" as these last couple of posts might make me seem. I'm not trying to be obnoxious and self-righteous. I just have some thoughts I want to share, and putting them on my blog feels way less obnoxious than putting them on Facebook haha

 

I love these scriptures found in Section 51 of the Doctrine and Covenants, where the Lord said He has consecrated a place to them for a little season, but He commands them to make the most of it. To “act upon” it as if they’re going to be there for many years. I’ve noticed many seasons of my life when I haven’t been sure if I should plant roots or just hang out. I distinctly remember accepting that my teenage dream of escaping Southeast Texas was not going to happen. I can recall transitioning from anxious limbo to a new resolve to make the most of my time there. I didn’t know if I would ever leave, but I knew that then was not the time to do so. I felt called to make the most of everything being offered and learn to experience joy. I grew relationships, served in the church, attended Institute classes, and learned through many good and great and terrible experiences. Those are the years where I grew into the “me” that would eventually marry, have kids, and yes, move away from Southeast Texas.

 

These verses hit differently tonight. I’m kicked back, stretching my body so that the coconut feeling womb inside of me has space to not feel squished. I’m a third of the way into my seventh pregnancy, and I’ve spent the last 3 months adding the same caveat to nearly every statement I’ve made regarding the pregnancy’s outcome: “If this baby lives…”. I know there are no guarantees in pregnancy, and the prideful side of me is so afraid of being caught a fool. Like, if I don’t acknowledge that this pregnancy could fail, I’m going to look real stupid. But that’s not true. 

As it is, I’ve accidentally taught my children to express the same lack of faith. As the one who taught them to say, “If this baby lives…”, I’m trying to make a more concerted effort to use more affirming statements and to talk about the future. I mean, can you imagine having that attitude after the baby is born? I’m painfully aware that tomorrow isn’t promised for anyone. But that doesn’t stop us from having dreams for the future. It doesn’t stop us from encouraging our children to imagine their futures. We don’t say, “If you live to be a certain age, you can drive too!” We simply dream it with them. Sometimes those dreams are snatched through their untimely death. But I think that even then, the default for most is to assume that their futures on earth exists. 

I have not been called as a fortune teller or a seer.  I’ve not been called to guess what the future has in store and try to brace myself against whatever tragedy I’m imagining. I’ve been called to raise a family. During this season, which is of unknown duration, I’ve been called to grow a baby, and I believe that Heavenly Father and Christ want me to view this experience through that lens which says, “This is where I am, and this is my calling. I am going to make the most of it and have joy.” I believe they want me to be a faithful, just, and wise steward of all of my children in their various developmental stages. 

I believe they want me to remove myself from the proverbial flower pot, plant myself in the ground, and experience growth that can only be achieved by completely submitting myself to the process and allowing my roots space for expansion.

 Whatever seasons you or I are in, whether it be 1 or 5 at the same time, I know that the Lord is mindful. He tends His gardens and knows where to plant us so that we may grow as He intends. He facilitates our increase, and as long as we allow ourselves to be planted thus, we can expect to enter into His joy and inherit eternal life.

The Formal Non-Announcement of Pregnancy

***I wrote this a couple of weeks before announcing on Facebook***

I don’t even know where to begin. My mind and my heart have been back and forth and up and down and sideways and just straight up batty with indecision regarding how I want to share the news of this much-wanted pregnancy with the world. The result of such vacillating has led to the default decision to just let it be. It isn’t a secret. It isn’t exactly common knowledge yet. But the news is slowly trickling out into the world. The most important people already know. Sorry, if you’re finding out here, then you’ve probably guessed that you aren’t on that list. I love you anyway! Besides, the most important people are always my close family.

I want another of my babies so badly. That is a trite expression to convey a deeply complex feeling. I’m always excited about each newly created life. I don’t take that gift for granted, like I used to. It’s difficult to keep that kind of news to myself, so I typically blurt it out on social media as soon as Darren lets me. There’s a lot of love to be found in the outpouring of support and excitement from my family and friends. But when the pregnancy doesn’t last, it is painful to retract. It is painful to announce a loss. Having done so twice, it begins to feel performative. On the other hand, there was one baby that didn’t even last long enough to make it to social media. I didn’t even get to tell Darren about it until after the fact, because he was at drill, and I wanted to tell him both sets of news, respectively, in person: We’re pregnant! We lost the baby. Nobody knew about that one at first, except for God and me. Grieving in solitude is not something I would recommend. I craved external support for the strength it provides. I want to cry alone, but I want the prayers of those who love me to help me through it.

After our second miscarriage, I decided that I wasn’t strong enough to endure any more loss. I wasn’t strong enough to face each month with no new pregnancy. We decided that 3 kids is enough kids. But we were pleasantly (and terrifyingly) surprised almost a year later to find ourselves expecting, yet again. Surely. SURELY. Surely, there is no way that this one won’t make it, I thought. It feels like such a gift. However, Heavenly Father saw fit to allow the pregnancy to run its course in just a few weeks. There went another one. I understand that it is not in my purview to define His gifts the way I like them to be defined. 

With this loss, my head was spinning, but I felt peace. I felt exhausted, emotionally and physically, but I felt a new strength. Together, we discussed our future. We felt impressed to acknowledge that maybe we weren’t done with bringing babies to this world, but maybe it wouldn’t be as easy as it had been before. Maybe there would be more loss. Maybe we would never be able to bring another kiddo to the finish line of pregnancy. Maybe. MAYBE. Maybe, Heavenly Father needs to be in control. We submitted our will to His.

It was another 6 months before I knew there was another little life inside of me. I felt all the feelings all at once, and then some. Seems like a brain could explode with so many emotions happening simultaneously, but, it turns out, the brain is fairly resilient to emotional overload. Name an emotion, and I promise I was feeling it. I started to breathe a little easier at our viability scan. That little 7 week human in my belly had a strong heartbeat. A couple weeks later, I was able to see it again, swimming on the screen. Heart sounding strong. My breathing got a little easier. My symptoms have been nice and strong. I’ve been appropriately miserable and nauseated. That’s comforting. The hard days are the good days. They are the days I can most believe that everything is going just the way it is supposed to.

I’m now about 11.5 weeks along. With each passing week, my fear relaxes a little bit in some ways. In other ways, not so much. I know there are no guarantees. I know that if I were to lose my baby now, it would be extremely physically painful, and the memory of losing my 9 week pregnancy is still super fresh. That was incredibly painful. I remember feeling surprised at how painful it was. I assume it gets harder the more a pregnancy progresses.

I’m at the point where I believe I am ready to share the news more publicly. I’m ready to share my joy. I’ve fished around online for ideas of how to announce, and can I just complain for a minute? I don’t like the phrase, “rainbow baby”. I absolutely respect others’ use of the phrase, but it doesn’t sit well with me. I always wondered why it rubbed me the wrong way, and then I came across this blog post that hits the nail on the head. God’s promise to Noah was that He would never flood the earth again. He doesn’t make that same promise to me. This is my 3^rd “rainbow baby” in a row. By definition, the first one should have made it. But there was no promise there. Heavenly Father doesn’t promise me a life free from heart hurts and sorrow. He doesn’t promise me flawless fertility. He promises me His help, and the help of my Savior. He promises that I will be able to endure whatever hardships I need to endure to become more like He is. He promises me eternity with my family.

So, I will celebrate this life. I will appreciate the gift we’ve been given. I will cherish its significance, whether I’m only meant to carry it for a short time or all the way. I will celebrate every passing week that gets me closer to holding it in my arms, and I pray every day that we will see that day come (in the appropriate time frame)(ahem).

 

Tl;dr: WE’RE PREGNANT! Due November 23, 2021