The Best Chapter

In honor of Valentine's Day, I thought I would share the next chapter in my (now finished?) love story with Bill. This is the one I've been looking forward to telling you ever since I started that very sporadic series of blog entries. 

Excerpts from Allyson's Journal
4/18/06
Daddy wrote this in my birthday card:
Happy 36th birthday! I do think dreams come true.... Most nights as I lay in bed (in our house), next to you (my beautiful, caring and loving wife), with my hand on your belly feeling our daughter, I think my dreams have come true....

About 8 months along.
Funny, I had no idea Allyson was going to be huge. 

Ethan and His Cousin Savannah

5/14/06
I've been so frustrated with all this false labor. How will I know when to go to the hospital? What if I wait too long? You're not due for three more weeks, but the doctor says it could be any day.

I've decided to take that with a grain of salt. Yes, you could be born tomorrow (or tonight), but you could also be born in two or three weeks. I'm going to try to relax and live my normal life. You'll come when you come and I'll have to trust God to let me know when we should go to the hospital.

5/16/06
Well, I guess I wasn't listening closely enough. I doubt that God told us to go to the hospital today, but we went....

At six in the morning, I had several hard contractions about three minutes apart. I told Daddy I thought it was time...

Daddy woke Ethan up, and he was amazingly cooperative. He got his clothes and shoes right on and went downstairs. Too excited to eat breakfast, he helped Daddy pack his school lunch, then helped him gather last-minute items for the hospital.

When I came down, Ethan said, "So this is what it's like to get ready for a baby!" I thought that was so cute! When we dropped him off at before-school care, he gave me a big hug before Daddy took him in.

We weren't far into our drive when I realized the contractions were slowing down. By the time we reached the hospital, they were 10 minutes apart. Given my odd labor pattern with my first baby [more on that in another entry], I decided it wouldn't hurt to get checked....

The labor and delivery nurse hooked me up to a monitor for an hour, watching my contractions and your heartbeat. Naturally, the contractions slacked off severely. I had only four in an hour, and felt so silly....

I cried a little during the monitoring. Daddy was very supportive. He stroked my hand and sat quietly by my side. He made me laugh a couple of times.

When the nurse sent me home, she seemed rather patronizing in her instructions. "Don't come back until the contractions are consistently five minutes apart," she said. "I know you said your contractions were not regular with your first baby, but...."

I reiterated that the contractions had never been close to five minutes apart with Ethan, and that I'd been 8 centimeters dilated (out of 10) when I reached the hospital. I explained that with such a long drive, I was concerned about possibly delivering the baby in the car.

She replied that the most important thing was that the contractions would be very painful. When I informed her that mine weren't very painful with Ethan, she raised an eyebrow. I could tell she thought I was stupid, or that I was lying. I felt so defensive, so foolish. I cried in the parking lot, though I couldn't explain why.

Monday 5/29/06
Well, I wish I could say there were no more pre-birth labor dramas, but that was not the case. Last Sunday I thought my water had broken.... Of course, the leaking had stopped by the time I got to the hospital. Either I'd been peeing myself repeatedly, or there had been a small hole that sealed itself....

Sunday 6/4/06 
Another week has passed, and still no baby.... I felt down yesterday, but today I feel better. At church we sang a new song called "Hallelujah" [the one from the Shrek soundtrack]. It really moved me as I realized how many reasons I have to sing hallelujah. Why have I been frustrated and upset? I have a baby coming in the next week. I have a husband who loves and supports me. I have a strong, active baby inside me, for almost certainly the last time. I have a God who cares for me and my baby, who knows what's best for us. I let the tears fall and just let go of the worry. And although nothing has changed, and I'm still confused about the contractions, it doesn't seem to matter today. I feel content.

Tuesday 6/6/06
I wish my contentment could have lasted longer than two days. Yesterday I had contractions all day at work, and it was easy to see they were getting more frequent. By bedtime, they were about five minutes apart. I agonized over whether to go to the hospital but finally decided to go to bed and see what would happen. I was up almost all night. I managed to doze, but the contractions woke me over and over.

This morning the contractions were 2-3 minutes apart, so we headed to the hospital. But the moment we got in the car, they slowed down, about 6-9 minutes apart. So instead of going to triage, we went to the doctor's office. My doctor's associate examined me, and she strongly recommended induced labor--tomorrow!

Being presented with this choice was overwhelming, especially after getting so little sleep. I sobbed all the way to my mom's house, where I spent the day relaxing....

Wednesday 6/7/06 4:30 A.M.
Today is your birthday! My water broke at 4:00, and we are at the hospital. The pains are about three minutes apart, and pretty sharp. I am nervous and excited. Ethan is with us, and Grandpa is on the way to pick him up.... I'm so excited to meet you, sweet Allyson!

Wednesday 6/7/06 8:15 P.M.
You are a beautiful baby. I can't believe how smoothly the whole labor went. I know God was with me throughout....

After two hours, I was at 6 centimeters, making good progress....

Around 8:00, the doctor came and broke my water. I was 7 centimeters dilated. The pain was still quite manageable. I was able to laugh and talk through the contractions. I wished that snippy labor nurse who'd made me feel so stupid on that first trip could see me now, but I never saw her.

Hard Labor??

But when I hit 8 centimeters, the pain ratcheted up abruptly, like a knife stabbing me in my lower back. Previously, I'd been praying through the contractions, asking for peace and strength, asking God to open my cervix. Now, I could only moan and breathe, "Jesus, Jesus."

The nurse, Candace, said she'd check me again in an hour, and if I hadn't progressed she'd give me a little Pitocin to make the contractions stronger. Make them stronger?? After an hour? I suddenly decided I wanted an epidural after all. She said it wasn't too late.

An anesthesiologist came in a minute or two later, almost as if he'd been waiting in the hall. Was I glad to see him! He asked a few questions, but I could barely answer him. I literally had trouble telling him my name, and also gave him my pre-pregnancy weight by mistake. He finally told me to roll onto my right side, and started to swab my back for the injection.

After I'd lurched over like a beached whale, I cried, "She's coming now. Now!"

I'd been checked only five minutes before, but Candace checked again. Verifying that I was at 10 centimeters, she dismissed the anesthesiologist and paged the doctor. "Oh no!" I thought. There was no turning back. This was going to be an all natural birth.

Candace lifted my legs into the stirrups for some practice pushes. She told me to hold my breath and push, but I kept breathing really fast. "I'm scared!" I told Daddy.

Candace told me to look in her eyes. "Remember not to breathe. Don't make a sound. Just push." Finally I got the hang of it. The pain was almost gone, leaving a tremendous pressure in its wake.

After one contraction, she said, "No more pushing!" Pressing my knees together, she told me to blow. I repeated, "She's coming NOW!"

My doctor, Karan, must have run across from her office. When I saw her, I wanted to push again, but Candace told me to keep blowing while she got ready. I replied, "She's coming! I can't stop it."

At last they put my feet in the stirrups and let me push. After just one contraction, your head and elbow were out. I could hear your gurgling cry, but I couldn't see you. And then the rest of you slipped gently into the world. Luckily, Candace urged me to open my eyes, just in time to see you emerge.

I looked at Daddy and started to laugh. I couldn't believe I had done it! You were here! I thought I would cry, but I just laughed. Your daddy cried, though. He said he'd been crying a lot because I was so brave. But I hadn't felt brave.

As she caught you, Karan had said, "Wow! This is a big baby." The pediatric nurse weighed you right away and announced that you were 9 pounds and 0 ounces. I couldn't believe how easily you'd come. Nine pounds!

Thursday 6/8/06
Your first day passed in a blur. You were in a quiet, alert state for much of the day, but by evening you were exhausted. You slept and slept, through quite a few visitors--many of whom held you and remarked how pretty you were. Grandpa and Grandma visited, bringing along your big brother, Aunt Emily, Hillary, Savannah, and Sammy.

Proud, Proud Daddy

Ethan was too nervous to hold you at first, but then he changed his mind. He was so proud!

The next visitors were Uncle Rick, Aunt Diane, and Mindy....

Grandma and Cousin Mindy

Through all of this, you slept. But after a nurse came to weigh you at 11:30 that night, you were wide awake. Daddy was wonderful with you! He held you, talked softly to you, rocked you, and walked the floor. He told you he understood how tired and overwhelmed you must be--such a journey you had made! I was very moved by his compassion and the joy with which he cared for you.

When you awoke again and hour or so later, I looked down at you as you nursed. In that moment, I fell in love with you. It had been such an exciting, hectic day that I really hadn't had time to bond with you. But now it was only you and I in the world; Daddy was asleep in the uncomfortable futon chair. After you ate, I held you against my body, skin to skin, with your blanket covering us. You slept blissfully, lulled by my heartbeat. I whispered that I missed carrying you inside me, but I was so glad to hold you in my arms at last.

Monday 6/12/06
You've been home several days now, and you're settling into a routine. It's been very difficult because you sleep all day and then stay up all night. Again, I've been amazed at the grace Daddy shows despite his lack of sleep. He talks tenderly to you and gazes lovingly at you even in the middle of the night.

One of Those Exhausting Nights

It's been harder on me. I'm tired from the delivery and from making milk. My hormones are changing, and that makes me weepy when I don't get enough sleep. Daddy is tender with me also. He rubs my back while I cry, and he snuggles me close when I'm too anxious to sleep. I'm falling in love with him all over again....

Nana and Grandpa arrived on the 8th, the day after your birth. They were a lot of help, doing all the cooking and helping to comfort you when you thought you wanted to eat all the time. Nana watched over me to make sure I was eating and drinking lots of water.

Nana and Her Angel

Of course, they fell in love with you instantly. Nana called you an angel. She and Auntie Lisa--who saw you on the hospital website--think you look just like your father. But my family thinks you look just like me when I was a baby. I can see Ethan in you, too. Your cheeks are chubby like his were.

The Hospital Picture

You are such a miracle. I love to see your wide eyes when you are awake. I love to see you totally relaxed in sleep, with so many expressions playing across your face. I can see Daddy, Ethan, and even myself in you....

Ethan loves you, too. He's so helpful and cooperative, which shows he's growing up. He cheerfully washes his hands so he can hold you.... I'm very, very proud of the way he's welcomed you into the family.

After reading through all these journal entries and reliving the happy memories, I'm surprised that I don't feel a bit sad. Those were good times, and I'm glad we had them. I'm sure God has many more happy memories in store for me. Perhaps the best is yet to come! 

Happy Valentine's Day to you and yours. 

Alive in His Hand

There's no easy way to say this. Bill and I are separated. I didn't choose this path, and I don't want to walk it, but I have to believe God has a purpose for me that I don't understand right now. It'll be a week tomorrow, and up until last night I was taking it pretty well.

Over the last six months, and again in the last few days, God has led me to these verses, which give me great comfort:

• And the God of all grace, who called you to his eternal glory in Christ, after you have suffered a little while, will himself restore you and make you strong, firm, and steadfast. (1 Peter 5:10)

• I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us. (Romans 8:18)

• Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal. (2 Corinthians 4:16-18)

Over the last week, I have definitely had the peace that surpasses understanding (Philippians 4:7). I have a lot of wonderful people who are loving me and taking care of me and my family. Many of them have told me, "You are so strong, Sarah."

I let myself believe I was strong, and maybe I even patted myself on the back now and then. 'Round about bedtime last night, though, I realized the truth. I am NOT strong. Not at all. I am absolutely weak. But that's a good place to be. For when I am weak, then He's strong. To quote a favorite song, I'm empty handed but alive in His hand. And that's a start.

Please pray for all four of us. Pray that God continues to make his comfort real to me, that I feel his unfailing love even now when the pain is so strong it takes my breath away. Pray that I will have strength and wisdom and love to walk with my children down this hard road. Above all, pray for God's mercy on us.

It's a Girl!

Here, after six months, is the next chapter of my love story with Bill. Please note that these events occurred in 2006, when I was pregnant with Allyson.

Excerpts from Allyson's Journal
Friday 1/6/06
Last night, Bill was lying beside me, and I was propped on pillows. He was cupping my belly, and he said he felt something. But his hand was too high, and he was feeling gas bubbles. We laughed. He left his hand in the same spot, feeling the movements of my digestion. I felt very loved.

When I rolled to my side, Bill wrapped his arm around me. I suddenly asked, "Was this what you imagined when you thought about marriage?"

He thought for a moment and said, "Yes, I guess it was."

I said it was much better than I ever imagined.

Saturday 1/6/06
I forgot one of the best moments of the Vancouver trip: When Bill was throwing snowballs at Minday and Brandy, he said, "Don't think I won't hit you just because you're sitting next to my pregnant wife!" There was a little pride in his tone when he called me that, and I felt proud, too.

Monday 1/16/06
We went to church, and I was enjoying the worship service. I whispered to Bill that the baby must be enjoying my singing; I'd read that babies at this stage can hear internal sounds such as their mother's voice.

When we were singing "Face Down," I was very moved and began to cry. The song says, "I'll fall, face down, as your glory shines around." I suddenly thought of what the baby might be experiencing. When I feel God's presence, I feel it throughout my body, as if I am bathed in a peaceful glow. I imagined that peace settling over our baby, imagined it shining with God's glory, and I was overwhelmed and almost wept.

Sunday 1/22/06
I'm struggling today with worry. Ironically, I worry about worrying, over the effect it could have on my baby. I've read that babies' personalities might be shaped by their mothers' emotional state during pregnancy and in the infant days.

I worry when the baby has quiet days.... Yesterday I didn't feel a lot of movement, though I did feel some. I was very busy cleaning, and I think all that activity could have lulled Tator Tot to sleep. Today, though, I haven't been overly active, yet I've felt even less movement. That's not to say I've felt nothing, but the movements have been sparse and seemingly less vigorous.... I know with the rational part of my mind that worrying won't help, and that the feelings are normal. (There's a section in my pregnancy book on these fears.)

My heart tells me I can trust God to take care of me and my baby no matter what happens. I know I don't have to be anxious, that I can present my requests to God with thanksgiving, and the peace of God will guard my heart and mind (Phillipians 4:4-9). I also know he has a plan for me, that He ordained all of my days before one of them came to be (Psalm 139). I know that He works in all things for my good, and that absolutely nothing can separate me from the love of Christ (Romans 8).

I'm thankful that God led me to memorize these passages that I need now. But so far, I've been unable to shake this nagging anxiety despite going over my scriptures and praying. I feel frustrated that I can fall so easily into this old trap of worry, the same worry as before, but with different surrounding circumstances.

Lord, I know you carried me through my struggles with fear and worry in the past, and I know you can do that now. Teach me the lesson again, Lord.... Be with me tonight when I share this with Bill. Draw us together, and please encourage me through him.

Wednesday 1/25/06
I had a good talk with Bill after Ethan went to bed. We sat on the couch in the loft, and Bill held my hand as I cried. He said he knew nothing he could say could take away my worry, but he was very supportive. I asked him to pray for me, though I knew that he prefers for me to do the praying. He said a very nice prayer that made me feel comforted and loved. He prayed for me first, then the baby. He asked God to help me feel secure and very loved, that I would know I would be okay no matter what happens with the baby. He asked God to cover the baby and make it grow strong and healthy. And he asked God to make the baby kick now and again to ease my worries.

It was the longest and most heartfelt prayer I'd ever heard from Bill, and I was touched. I realized that a very good effect had come out of my struggle, and I was thankful.

Tuesday 1/31/06
We had a sonogram today. We're having a girl! I can't believe I'm going to be a mother to a girl, then a young woman! I sort of had a feeling it was a girl, but of course I didn't really know....

In the car, I didn't make it out of the parking lot before I started sobbing. I started imagining a little girl in a ruffled dress, a preteen getting her first bra, her first period, her first date as a teenager. I just let the tears fall as I contemplated the wonder of watching our girl grow into a woman.

I must have been crying pretty hard because my cell phone rang, and it was Bill checking on me. He was in his truck, taking Ethan back to school while I headed to the airport for my flight to Chicago. He said, "What are you doing back there?"

I laughed and admitted, "I'm crying." I assured him they were happy tears, and I asked if he was happy. He said very. I asked if he was afraid about raising a girl, and he said, "Of course." He told me to take it easy and not get into a wreck.

I had to call him back a couple minutes later to report that she had woken up and was kicking. During the sonogram, she'd been sleeping, and no amount of jiggling and poking would rouse her.

But she was beautiful! We could see her head, her arms and legs, her fingers and toes, her spine and ribs, and... her face! We had a clear view of her profile, and we could make out her features. She was sleeping with her arms crossed over her face....

Ethan didn't say too much during the exam, but he told Bill later that he'd gotten his wish--he really wanted a baby sister. And when he got back to school, he showed his sono picture to the receptionist.

January 2006

It strikes me as I read my thoughts from six years ago that I am learning the same lessons about worry and trust yet again! And just as I said then, I'm finding that God continues to carry me through my struggles. And that something good can come out of them. Thank you, Jesus!

Nothing Short of a Miracle

Here's the next chapter in my love story with Bill...
Excerpt from Allyson's Journal, 1/1/06
I think you are nothing short of a miracle. First, there's the fact that your father is from British Columbia, and I'm from Texas. Then there's the fact that we waited so long for your conception (19 months), and that my doctor didn't think I'd be able to conceive without drugs.

I'd taken an oral fertility drug when I conceived your older brother nine years ago, and I didn't want to go through that stress again. I'd prayed and asked God to give me the gift of a "surprise" pregnancy, but after a year and a half of waiting I just relaxed and asked for His will--baby or no baby, fertility drug or none.

At the beginning of October 2005, I filled a prescription for Clomid and then waited for the right time to take it. I had gone on a Caribbean cruise with your father and Ethan.

Ethan, Age 8

I was supposed to take the pills on the cruise, starting on cycle day 5, but my period was late. I didn't really believe I could be pregnant, but I was having a few symptoms, especially mild nausea; however, almost half the passengers were seasick because the ocean was pretty rough.

Still Wondering - 5 Days Late and Counting

On Friday, the last full day of our cruise, I used a pregnancy test I'd brought from home. Here is what I wrote in my journal that day:

Friday 10/7/05
I slept fitfully last night, waiting for the light, waiting to take my test. I got up around 7:30 and crept to the bathroom. I set the test stick flat on the lavatory and watched the fluid spread across the window. The reference line appeared immediately, but there was no test line at first. My stomach sank. [This experience had become far too familiar.]

But then I saw a second line, very faint, begin to materialize. I strained to see it, and yes, it got darker and darker. There definitely were two lines, though the second was lighter. I sat and smiled at myself in the tiny mirror. I didn't cry.

I climbed back in bed and snuggled up to Bill. I was too excited to fall back asleep, but I lay there for another hour enjoying my secret....

"No way! Really? For sure? Awesome!" That was Bill's reaction after breakfast when I told him he was going to be a father. We were standing on the ship's railing, looking at the water while Ethan ran around the deck. Bill gave an incredulous laugh, that little-boy laugh that I love. We kissed and hugged....

That Evening at Dinner

"Lord, how do I begin to thank you for such an unexpected blessing? You knew the desire of my heart, and you surprised me! I'm so thankful that I won't need to go through the suspense of taking Clomid.

"Thank you for all that you've taught me during these months of waiting, Father. I feel I have learned to trust you so much more. Thank you for ordaining my days. Thank you for knitting together this baby in my womb.

"Now I must learn to trust you even more. Help me trust you to keep this baby safe, to keep my body strong. Help me not to worry if the baby will be 'perfect.' I know you will form this baby according to your perfect plan, and you will make me ready to be everything my baby needs in a mother--by your grace....

"Thank you, thank you, Father, for giving us this precious gift. Thank you for blessing me among women. My heart is full today."

Allyson's Journal, 5/17/06
We learned our wonderful news at the start of October, and then we had to decide when to share our news. We wanted to tell Daddy's family in person, which meant we had to wait until Christmas. Daddy wanted to wait until then to tell my family, too, but I told him we could never keep it a secret for that long. So we decided on Thanksgiving, but it didn't work out that way.

A couple of weeks after we found out, we were all over at Aunt Emily's to help her move. I was feeling a little green that day, so I wasn't much help. And I was avoiding lifting and other heavy work like mopping. Grandma looked sharply at me and asked, "Are you expecting?"

I couldn't very well lie to my mother, so I just smiled. She and Aunt Amy shrieked with excitement and crushed me in a big hug. Then, of course, I had to tell everyone else: Emily and her girls, Uncle Rick and his family, Grandpa, and your big brother.

Ethan was busy playing when I told him, and I don't think he really heard me. He said, "Oh, that's nice." Then he went back to his playing. I was a littled disappointed at his reaction.

Later that day, he asked if I wanted to jump on a pogo stick. I told him I didn't think I should. He said, "Why not? The weight limit is 150 pounds. You don't weigh that much, do you?"

I said no, but it wouldn't be good for the baby. Ethan looked around and asked, "What baby?"

I laughed. "The baby in my tummy, silly!"

He touched my belly and said, "You have a baby in your tummy?"

I said yes, and from that point he has been very excited about your arrival.

We somehow managed to keep Daddy's family from finding out. We flew up just before Christmas with Ethan, your cousin Mindy, and my Little Sister Brandy. As planned, I wore a snug sweater and a loose jacket.

Mindy and Brandy at White Rock Beach, BC

When we got to the house, Bill introduced Brandy to everyone, and then he announced that he had another introduction to make. Everyone looked around, confused, because they'd already met Mindy the prior Christmas, and of course they knew Ethan.

I opened my jacket to reveal my growing belly, and there was lots of shouting, hugging, and crying. It was like they had won a car on a game show.

Itty Bitty Baby Belly

When we flew home a week later, we brought maternity clothes from Nana and baby clothes from Great Grandma Faye. Gram couldn't resist buying one girl outfit, just in case. I'm so glad you'll get to wear it!

DISCLAIMER: After the reaction of some of my readers to the last chapter of our love story, I want to point out that this story takes place in the past--back in 2005. No, I am NOT PREGNANT right now!

My Life is a Book

Here's a story I've been looking forward to telling you since the day I started this blog. It's the next chapter in my love story with Bill. (Did you even remember that we had a love story?)

In the last chapter, I told you what I endured in order to get a clean bill of health so that we could start trying to conceive. It was such a relief to have the waiting behind me at last, and so exciting to wonder if this could be the month. During this time, I was memorizing Psalm 139, and I was in awe of the timing. As I slowly worked through the chapter, verse by verse, it seemed that the verse I was currently memorizing almost always was the perfect one for what I was experiencing at that moment.

Here is an email that I sent to my Thursday group back in 2004 that captures my initial anticipation...

4/9/04

I was having my morning break today, meditating as usual on the SAME passage I've been studying for months, when I saw something new.

As you know, now that I have passed the colonoscopy, we are free to start trying for a baby, and we are, though Bill doesn't technically know yet. (He's ready, so that's not an issue.) I quietly stopped taking my pill this month, and the knowledge that we could be making a baby is a precious little secret in my heart.

Well, I was meditating on my verses and I stopped on Ps 139:13: "For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother's womb." I wish you could have seen the little smile on my face. I think it must have looked like Mona Lisa's smile, a private smile over a secret only she knew. It seemed so incredibly...INCREDIBLE and WONDERFUL that at this VERY moment, God could be knitting together a baby in my womb.

So I talked to God about that. I asked him for his perfect timing and his will, even if his will is no baby at all. At this moment, at least, I am feeling perfectly at peace with the waiting and the uncertainty because I know that God ordained all my days, and he knows what's best for me. I wish I could keep this moment forever.

Anyway, I thought I would share. Please be in prayer with me that I will continue to seek God's will in this and not become impatient like I usually do about everything else in my life.

Oh, how well I knew myself! Fast forward a year...

Here I Am on My 35th Birthday - April 2005

5/18/05

Hello everyone. I'm missing you a lot this week. I've been feeling sad, a deep sense of grief, really, as I've been trying to let go of the dream of having a baby. I just don't want to hope any more. It hurts too much when I start my period each month. This past month I didn't hope at all, and it still hurt when I started my period yesterday.

With each passing month (15 of them now), I feel more certain that Bill and I will never share that joy together. I have tried so hard to honestly give up that desire because I know that God's plan is best for me. Maybe we will have a baby, and if we do it will be at the perfect time, according to his plan. Sometimes I think I am at peace with just asking God for his will continually, and trying not to decide for myself what I want.

The problem with that is the not knowing. I keep thinking, "If I could just KNOW what God's plan is, it would be so much better." If I KNEW there would be no baby, I would grieve, and I would go on and be thankful for what I do have. And if I knew that in x months or years we would have a baby, I would spend the time preparing to be the best mother I could be, and just enjoying the anticipation. But I don't know what's going to happen, so I keep preparing for the worst. I keep telling myself how it wouldn't be so bad not to have a baby, how wonderful our life is already. I can almost believe that until I see a commercial or a TV program or a woman on the street who is pregnant or has a new baby, and then I just feel this deep sense of loss, thinking "I can't have that. That's for other people, not for me." Then I feel guilty for not being thankful and joyful about God's plan for my life.

All that to say... Today I was studying Psalm 139 for perhaps the 200th time (maybe more!), and I got something I hadn't seen before: Ps 139:15-16 "My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place. When I was woven together in the depths of the earth, your eyes saw my unformed body. All the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be."

What I saw today when I quoted that scripture was your book. When God ordained the days for my life, before I was even born, he wrote them in His book. It's a book about me and my days, but it's HIS BOOK. I'm not supposed to know what is in the book, only to know the Author of the book. Since he planned all my days, I know that it's going to be a wonderful, incredible, awesome book. But I can't skip to the end without reading the whole thing. I have to savor it page by page, enjoying the process of getting to the end of the book.

I want to approach my life the way I approach a really good book. I love to savor a good book. I'm always dying to know what will happen next, but I never "cheat." I enjoy seeing the plot unfold slowly. If it's an author I love, I know from the start that I'm going to enjoy myself.

Obviously God is the best author you could find. I want to feel that same way about my life. I guess if there is not a baby in his plan, then I don't need to grieve that loss. Because whatever He has planned is what is best for me. He KNOWS! So I need to have joy in knowing that he cares for me and has planned the best life there can possibly be for me. He is going to teach me incredible truths along the way, and he is going to let me experience joy and sadness and longing and everything else that makes this life so rich and amazing.

Girls, I GET IT!! At this moment, I really get it. Please pray that God will continue to teach me this lesson and that it can be mine to keep. Pray that he will remind me of this moment over and over, whenever I need to hear it. Thank you.

I can't wait to hug everyone.

Love,

Sarah Louise

Bill and I (Far Left) at His Brother Trevor's Wedding, Same Month as the Preceding Email Message

As so often happens in my life, once I finally learned the lesson, God soon gave me the desire of my heart. But that’s another story.

The Last Obstacle

In about 45 minutes, I'll be starting the prep for my second colonoscopy, which of course reminds me of the nightmare that was my first colonoscopy prep--but also reminds me of my love story with Bill. How? I'll get to that. But first, a disclaimer: yes, this is going to be yet another poop story. Feel free to bail out if you like.

After less than a year of marriage, Bill and I started talking about having a baby. I might have preferred to wait a bit longer, but I was almost 33 when we got married, and Bill had said if he was going to become a father he wanted it to happen before he was 35. That gave us about three years to work with, but with my history of unexplained infertility with my first child, we thought it best to get started right away. My gynecologist, however, had other ideas. My thyroid was enlarged, and she wanted me to see the endocrinologist first to get the green light for a pregnancy. And due to my brother's history of colon cancer at age 42, she also wanted me to get the colonoscopy that his oncologist had suggested for each of our siblings.

It took three months to get my appointment with the endocrinologist, but I made it past that hurdle with no problem. He adjusted my hypothyroid medicine and said I'd be fine.

But I had to wait much longer for the colonoscopy. We were changing our health insurance to a different plan and had to wait for the enrollment period, and then I had to get a referral, and so on. And that's why, about a year after we wanted to start our family planning, I was actually a little bit excited about my colonoscopy. (Oh, the ignorance!)

The timing was absolutely horrible: Bill's sister Lisa had come down from Canada for a few days with her three-month old daughter Katie, whom we'd never met. As luck would have it, the second day of her visit was the dreaded prep day. For that entire day, my diet was restricted to clear liquids and Jell-O, but I didn't want to miss out on the sightseeing we'd planned for Lisa. So I sipped my water with lemon and felt sorry for myself while Bill and Lisa enjoyed the best Mexican food around. And then I traipsed along behind them, feeling faint, while they toured the Fort Worth Stockyards.

Lisa and Katie

Baby in a Basket!

But the real misery began around 5:00, when I drank the first 8 ounces of the prescribed gallon of GoLytely solution. My brother Rick had warned me that I wouldn't go lightly, and also that it would take effect very quickly. "Just don't stray far from the bathroom," he advised, telling me about a mishap he'd had while trying to do laundry during his first bowel prep. Not that I planned to do any laundry, but I figured if I did I'd be fine since our laundry room is literally ten feet from the toilet. Man, was I naive.

I chugged the first glass of the cherry-flavored, salty, slimy liquid with no problem. This isn't that bad, I thought triumphantly, and then I sat on the couch to wait 15 minutes for my next dose. The leaflet that came with the solution said it would take 30-60 minutes to work, so you can imagine my surprise when, not 10 minutes after that first dose, I felt a violent urge. I sprinted the 15 feet to the bathroom and BARELY managed to get my pants down in time.

Bill and Katie on the Couch Where My Adventure Began

I emptied what surely must have been the entire contents of my colon and waited about two minutes before pulling up my pants. I hadn't even finished washing my hands when it hit me again. And again, I just BARELY made it the 1.5 feet to the toilet.

I'll spare you the details, but let's just say I soon figured out there was no point getting off the toilet at all. This invoked quite a dilemma since it was past time for my second dose, and I really hated to drink it on the toilet.

"BILL!" I hollered. "Bring me another glass please."

That second glass took about 15 minutes to drink. And the third glass took a full hour, sipped through a straw. And the fourth glass, well, I started gagging the moment the cup touched my lips. I couldn't swallow another drop. But based on the constant water that had been passing through for about four hours now, I figured maybe it didn't matter that I'd only finished a third of the solution. It had obviously done its work, and it kept right on working up until nearly midnight.

Bill and Lisa had taken baby Katie off somewhere; I don't remember where. And Ethan was with his dad that weekend, so I was all alone in the house, with only my self pity to keep me company. I was finally off the toilet, but I was so sore I couldn't even sit down properly. So I lay on my side in the recliner and cried.

When they got home, they both laughed over my woes, which infuriated me, especially since I couldn't help laughing myself. Around midnight, I fell into bed utterly exhausted.

When Bill drove me to the endoscopy center the next morning, I was too exhausted to care about my sore bottom or the piteous growls of my gapingly empty stomach. I was just so relieved that the ordeal was coming to an end at last. Or so I thought.

Wheeling my gurney into the procedure room, the nurse asked cheerfully, "So, did you finish your GoLytlely?"

I laughed ruefully. "Wow, that was rough stuff! I only got about a third of it down, but-"

The gurney screeched to a halt. "You didn't finish your prep??" she repeated incredulously.

"No," I answered in a tiny voice. "But it really worked. I had diarrhea for SIX HOURS STRAIGHT. I couldn't even leave the bathroom."

Her mouth set into a firm line as she resumed the short trip. "That doesn't matter," she hissed after a silence so loud I could hear my own heart pounding. "Your colon has to be completely clear."

"It was," I protested. "The diarrhea looked like water."

She went on as if she hadn't heard. "Because if there's any fecal matter in there.... You realize that the procedure might have to be postponed? And you'll have to do the prep again?"

At those words, I burst into tears. I don't mean those silent tears that you hope no one will notice. I mean the kind of sobs that shake your whole body.

And that's what I was doing when she parked me in front of the doctor. At his raised eyebrows, she muttered, "She didn't finish the bowel prep."

I was sobbing so hard I didn't even hear his response. But I heard her all too plainly when she said, "Now calm down or we won't be able to start the IV."

I felt like a little girl again, being scolded by my beloved daddy. I sobbed harder.

And then I felt a gentle hand on my temple, brushing the hair from my eyes. It was the nurse anesthetist, whom I hadn't even noticed standing behind me. "It's okay," he whispered, and I thought maybe he was afraid of the Big Bad Nurse too.

"Sh-she said I'd have to do the p-prep ag-gain," I wailed.

He ran his fingers through my hair, patting my head the way I would pat Ethan's head after a nightmare. "We don't know that," he said softly. "And there's nothing you can do about it now. Just relax. Everything will be okay," he promised. "Just breathe deeply. I'm going to give you a sedative now, and you'll be asleep by the time I've counted backward from 10. When you wake up it will all be over."

My sobs faded into hiccups, and grateful tears splashed into my ears. When the kind man started counting, he only made it to 7 before everything went blissfully black. From that point, I vaguely remember odd splooshy sensations and the faraway sound of  reassuring male voices. I think they kept saying, "It's okay. We can see what we need to see." So I surmise that I might have been crying throughout the procedure.

I was definitely crying when I came out of it. "It's okay," the nurse reassured me as I opened my eyes. Thankfully, it was a different nurse, and she apparently knew nothing of my meltdown, or if she did she was decent enough not to mention it. She turned to Bill, "You never know how people will react to the medication. Some people laugh, some cry... Your wife, she's obviously one of the cry-ers."

She squeezed my hand. "But you don't need to cry any more, sweetie. The procedure went just fine, and everything was normal." To her chagrin, fresh tears rained down my cheeks then, but they were tears of joy. I hadn't realized until that moment how worried I'd been during all those months of waiting. I'd been afraid that I would go through what Rick had gone through, and that I wouldn't be able to have another baby.

In a moment, I was released from all that worry, and the last obstacle had been removed. We could start trying for a baby!

There's just one more thing I'd like you to know. When I read the doctor's report that evening, this is what I saw: "Quality of prep: Excellent." Yes, the quality of my prep was "Excellent" with a capital E! Take that, Big Bad Nurse.

Now if you'll excuse me, it's time to start my bowel prep.

Looking a Little Worse for the Wear, Day After the Procedure (Aren't the Glasses Awful??)

Settling Into Happily Ever After

In honor of our eighth anniversary, which was Thursday, I thought I'd share another chapter in my love story with Bill.

After our fairy tale wedding on Vancouver Island and an intimate reception with family and friends back home, we settled into domestic life almost effortlessly. Bill moved his meager stash of furniture into my house, including the giant blue chair that I absolutely despised and an antique dresser that took up residence in our closet. Other than the chair, I was pleasantly surprised at how naturally our lives meshed.

Our First House

The Blue Chair - With Matching Ottoman! (Bill's Apartment)

Unlike most of the couples in our marriage class, His Needs/Her Needs, we didn't fight over domestic chores, bill paying, or child rearing duties. (Granted, we were the only newlyweds in the class.) Without any negotiations or even any discussion, Bill took up about half of the household chores. We shared the cooking and the dishes pretty equally. He washed laundry, and I folded. I cleaned the bathrooms, and he mowed the lawn. And he gladly helped with five-year-old Ethan's homework and bedtime routines.

Ethan in First Grade Classroom

There was only one area where we weren't so compatible: he was a night owl, and I preferred to go to bed early. I was used to going to bed by 10:00 and getting a full eight hours of sleep, but he liked to stay up until almost midnight. I tried to get him to turn in earlier, but it was hard to tear his attention from the TV; he needed that time after all the chores were done to relax and unwind.

Since one of my favorite things about marriage was snuggling and talking before I dropped off to sleep--promise you won't tease Bill about that--I decided to adapt to his schedule. But then he compromised by coming to bed around 11:00 instead of midnight.

My 33rd Birthday, One Month After Wedding

[So, that's it, you ask? Where's the drama? Hey, this is me we're talking about. Of course there was drama!]

The hardest adjustment for me was reconciling my expectations with reality. Somehow I expected wild nights of passion and long walks in the park, earnest conversations in the evenings, and adoring glances and lavish compliments. In other words, I expected Bill to meet my every need and love me in the way that I thought he should.

The reality was far more... ordinary. As I mentioned, there were lots of household duties, and there was Bill's propensity for mindless television. By the time we turned in after 11:00 each night, there was little energy for conversation, let alone passion.

I was crushed. Right around PMS time, the drama arrived with a vengeance. I stewed for days, wondering why Bill didn't seem to be nearly so in love as I was. Did he love me at all?, I wondered. No, we were just roommates, I concluded. I wanted desperately to confess my hurts and fears, but I was ashamed of my insecurities. It reminded me of the painful transition when Bill had first moved to Texas, which was maddening.

After a few days, I broke. Bill had dozed off almost the moment his head hit the pillow; I knew because I could feel his muscles twitching as he held me. Meanwhile, I lay wide awake, my eyes burning with unshed tears and my chest tight with anxiety. I took a deep breath and whispered, "Are you awake?" No answer. I elbowed him gently and repeated "Are you awake?"

"Uhnnnn," he groaned.

And thus began our the first Relationship Talk of our young marriage. As you might imagine, it went downhill from there. I ended up sobbing uncontrollably while Bill helplessly patted my back, shaking his head in confusion. "I thought we were happy," he said.

"We a-are," I sobbed. "I just don't think you love me like you used to."

"Of course I love you! I moved down here and left all my family and friends to be with you. Why would you think my feelings had changed?"

"You don't... look at me the same way. You don't tell me I'm beautiful. I don't know."

"Well I don't know how I used to look at you, so how am I going to look at you that way again?"

"That's just it!" I cried. "You didn't have to think about it then."

The conversation got us nowhere, except that Bill promised to try to show more affection. But of course, he didn't--at least not that I could tell. He just kept loving me the only way he knew how. That scene repeated itself almost once a month for at least the first year. Bill was always patient, but I could see that my insecurities were wearing on him. He'd get angry with himself because he just couldn't seem to do it right, and that put a new distance between us.

I got angry with myself, too, because I couldn't stop sabotaging our happiness. The sad thing was, I knew from our marriage class exactly what was wrong. We were speaking different love languages, and his messages weren't getting through. His love language was acts of service, and mine was words of affirmation. It just wasn't natural for him to express his love in words. I understood with my head that Bill's way of loving me was making sure I never had to touch the trash, or buying me the most thoughtful gifts, yet that didn't fill the craving in my heart.

A more mature woman would have focused on addressing his love language, making sure that he felt loved. But I just kept hoping he would change, and trying to help him change by communicating exactly what I needed.

As the years passed--yes, years--I mellowed out a little. I prayed more, pouring out my heart to God in my journal. "Why can't I be happy, God? Why can't I just love Bill as he is?" Gradually, my meltdowns slowed to every two or three months, and then six months, and then once a year. I learned to fight the urge to start a Relationship Talk after 11:00 P.M., and that it was better to pray about it for a few days and ask God to give me the right words and show me the right moment.

Eight Years Later
It's been eight years, and my last meltdown was over a year ago, I think. I can't remember when, and I think that's a good sign. I still get my feelings hurt, but I'm learning to let those feelings go. Through years of Bible study and meditating on scripture, I'm beginning to fathom how precious and loved I am in God's eyes, and that makes me believe that I'm also worthy of my husband's love. But I've learned that my worth doesn't depend on Bill's love, and that he can't possibly meet all my needs.

Our marriage isn't perfect, and we still don't live that life of wild passion that I envisioned, but I think what we have is better. Different, but better. We make each other laugh almost every day. We share the same goals. We love spending time with our kids.

I'm free to be myself with Bill. Just like God, he knows everything about me, and he loves me anyway. I'm so thankful that neither of them gave up on me.

Circle Of Strength

Out of the blue, here's another chapter in my love story with Bill....

Since we were married in Vancouver (in March 2003) we ended up having two receptions--three if you count the small family dinner at the hotel on our wedding night. The Texas reception was held at my house, now ours. Although it turned out to be a most bittersweet day, the experience is one of my most treasured memories.

One thing that made it fun was that it was very much a family affair. All the women in my family sat down at Christmas to plan the party, each promising to bring her trademark appetizers. We even designed the invitation together. My friend Verusha was going to make the cake, but she ended up going out of town that week. So guess who brought the cake? Okay, you'll never guess, so I'm going to tell you. It was Carla! Remember her?

Anyway, the food was perfect, and our house was overflowing with dear family and friends.

 Newlyweds Casey and Marie
(A Friend from my Thursday Group)

Angela and Me (She and Her Sisters Had Thrown me a Lingerie Shower) 

It was fun showing off all the work Bill had done on the house, like laying tile, painting and hanging nicer baseboards, and replacing the wood under the banisters. I tried to listen to all the conversations swirling around me, but all I could catch was a few snippets. It didn't matter. The contented chatter and the laughter enveloped me like my favorite bathrobe.

But underneath all that was a layer of sadness that most of the guests probably missed. If you looked closely, you could see the glint of tears behind the smiles.

Amy, Rick, Dad, Mom, Melody
Emily, Me

Just a couple of days before, we'd all gathered at Mom and Dad's to visit with my sister Amy, who'd flown in from Indiana. That was when we learned that my brother Rick had colon cancer and would need surgery and chemotherapy. He was only 43 years old, and he had two teenage children. Of course we all cried in those first moments of shock, but Rick's wife Diane admonished, "I don't want everyone crying over Rick. He needs us to be positive."

As we set everything up for the party that Saturday, she reminded us, "No crying today. We're here to celebrate Bill and Sarah's wedding."

She was right, of course, and I think we did pretty well following her advice. Still, there were moments when I'd exchange glances with Mom or one of my sisters, and a few wayward tears would escape despite our determined smiles.

By the end of the evening, after hours of talking and eating and opening presents--which produced a staggering number of remarkably unflattering photographs that I'm resisting the urge to post--we were utterly exhausted. After the last of the other guests left, the whole family stood in a circle in our living room and held hands.

That's 5-Year-Old Ethan on the Front Row

And we prayed for Rick, prayed like we'd never prayed before. I don't remember what we said, but I remember the love and strength that radiated through that circle. It was at that moment we realized just how much we loved each other. We'd always been close, but I guess we'd taken each other for granted up until then. It reminded me of a little refrigerator magnet that Bill's sister or mother had just given us:

Our family is a circle of strength and love. With each birth and every union the circle grows. Every joy shared adds more love; every crisis faced makes the circle stronger.

Over the months that followed, we spent a lot more time together while Rick battled the cancer. I can only imagine how difficult it was for him, but he weathered it resolutely. I respected him so much! And I grew to love my sister-in-law more than ever. She was fiercely protective of him. She looked out for him in the hospital, making sure he received the highest level of care. She stayed by his side every day, yet still managed to keep their family going in his absence. And she always reminded us to stay strong and stay positive for him.

It's been eight years now, and Rick is healthy. At a follow-up a year or so back, his oncologist gave him the news we'd been waiting for: "You can tell your family to stop worrying now." And I think we have. But our family will never be the same.

I probably wouldn't have chosen to mark the beginning of our marriage with such sorrow, but now I realize what a fitting start it was. As a new bride, my head was full of romance and passion, but from Diane I learned that there is so much more to marriage. I pray I can be just as strong a wife and mother whenever my family needs me.

The Fairy Tale Wedding

Oh, I've missed you. I've been terribly busy lately and also was in Portland all this week for work (more on that later, probably). I haven't posted in awhile, and my mind is overflowing with stories. Since I'm already so far behind anyway, I think I'll go way back and share another chapter in my love story with Bill.

On March 8, 2003, Bill and I set off for the airport with five-year-old Ethan and both of my parents.

See Ethan's Eye Patch?

We flew to Vancouver that morning, and the next day our two families took a ferry to lovely Vancouver Island.

Ethan and His (Soon to Be) Nana

We toured Victoria and shared a delicious dinner that evening. I remember it as a very jovial meal, a great time for our families to get acquainted. The best part was ordering one of everything on the dessert menu and passing it all around the table.

After a soak in the hot tub, and a flawless manicure from my future sister-in-law Sheryl, I retired to the room that Ethan and I shared with my parents. They fell asleep immediately, but I lay awake for a very, very long time, assuring myself I was really ready for this.

On my wedding day, I was so nervous I could barely eat. All I remember doing is getting my hair and makeup done, alongside my mother. We headed over to the gorgeous seaside hotel, Sooke Harbor House, with plenty of time to spare before the twilight ceremony.

 The package we'd ordered came with a bouquet, a cake, and a gourmet dinner for two in the hotel restaurant, which was rated the third best restaurant in British Columbia at the time. Everything was perfect, and I didn't have to agonize over any of the choices!

Nephew Kurtis With Bouquet

The Cake Tasted Even Better Than it Looked

Since the hotel was surrounded by rain forest and it was early spring, we weren't sure until the last minute whether we'd be able to get married by the ocean. When the time came, the sky was dramatically overcast, and there was a bite to the air. My ethereal gown no longer seemed like such a good idea.

I tried to convince Bill to get married inside, in front of the fireplace, but he insisted that a wedding by the ocean would be much more romantic. Although I shivered through the very brief ceremony and all the pictures, now I know he was right. The pictures--a gift from Bill's sister Lisa, who was shooting her very first wedding!--were so beautiful.

The only guests besides my family were Bill's parents, his brother and sister and their families, and his grandmother. They all gathered around us, sitting on benches in the garden. We could hear the gentle sound of the surf down below.

I've always wondered what the minister was saying when Lisa took this shot:

Can We Think About It First?

Oh, What the Heck. Why Not?

When the ceremony was over, we walked down the "aisle" to the imagined strains of the wedding march. An extra member of the procession trailed along behind us.

Nephew Travis Tags Along

Inside, we climbed the stairs to our room for some pictures on the balcony. When the guests in the lobby caught sight of a bride and groom heading upstairs, they broke into raucous laughter and catcalls. I could feel my face turning crimson, but all that attention was pretty fun.

Catch, Sheryl!

When we came back down just five minutes later, the people in the lobby laughed even harder, and so did we. Next, we went back into the chilly evening air for lots of pictures. Here are my favorites, both candids that Lisa managed to capture between shots of all the family.

Keep Me Warm, Bill!

Sweet Nothings

Meanwhile, Ethan and his new cousin Kurtis had a blast playing together.

After 20 minutes or so, Lisa's other son Travis decided enough was enough; he wanted his mommy. So Lisa took a picture of him:

Next came the best part. We all sat down around a long table in the cozy dining room, next to the fireplace I'd been fantasizing about. Even the minister joined us for an incredible meal, artfully presented on plate after plate. My dad remarked that it was the best meal he'd ever eaten, and I had to agree.

Me and Daddy

The funny thing is, I can't remember what we ate. What I do remember is the hum of conversation all around me as I sat and watched the people I loved most in the world having a great time together.

See My Satin Cape?

At last it was time for everyone else to go away on their separate vacation, on another part of the beautiful island. Ethan was very anxious about separating from us, but Bill was able to comfort him.

Bill and I stayed three more days in this gorgeous room, which came with a jetted soaker tub and no TV.

Each morning we woke to the sound of the waves crashing on the rocks below, and this was the view we contemplated as we ate pastries so delicate they melted in our mouths. 

During the day we enjoyed massages, picnics, and long walks through scenes that belonged on a cheesy corporate inspirational poster.

The only thing that tempered the perfection was the fact that it rained every single day. I wasn't too disappointed, though, because Bill had prepared me. And didn't he look dashing in his raincoat? I thought so, anyway.

There was one more problem: we wanted to stay much longer! But we had to return to real life. We took the ferry back over to Bill's parents' house, where Ethan greeted us ecstatically. On our last day there, Bill's extended family and many family friends came to the house for lovely reception.

Everything about our wedding trip was exactly the sort of fairy tale I'd been afraid to hope for. I wouldn't change a thing.