I'm words, he's numbers: Thoughts from the mind of my man

I don't have a perfect marriage. In fact, my pregnancies take their toll on our marriage. I feel so miserable and pukey-bad for the first 4 - 5 months, love the middle 8 or 9 weeks, then I slip into that slightly-less-comfortable-than-a-beached-whale phase for the last 2 months.

Needless to say, I'm cranky for a lot of the time that I gestate our babies. My sweet husband fills right in where I leave off, taking care of kids, laundry, housework, you name it. But it's hard on him.

By far, this has been the hardest pregnancy for both of us.

Add to that that I'm a woman of many words and my husband is, well, a man of less than many words. Especially when he's thinking about something.

Typically I vomit my words all over him, holding little to nothing back, letting every passing emotion sweep across my lips like a flash flood in a monsoon.

But Luke, he's a thinker. I learned a little trick a few years ago on how to move from being a talker to a listener when I'm with my man. It's invaluable for understanding, hearing and really listening to my husband. (Maybe one day I'll share it with you all, if my husband promises not to act like he knows my secret.)

Anyway, just because my sweet man isn't much on for sharing his thoughts and emotions, doesn't mean they don't exists. Before we got married, I'd only seen him cry one time. He shed a few, tender tears during our wedding ceremony. Then, he cried when he found out his dog had died and when we found out his grandfather was in critical condition, likely to die within a matter of days.

Otherwise, he was cool, calm and collected (unless there's inclement weather, then not-so-much). This life of few words, and even fewer raw emotion was the norm. That was, until we had kids. Now, my man isn't afraid to have or show his emotion. And I love it. I love it so very much.

Even though emotion flows easily for him now, he still isn't one to pour out words. Maybe it's because he can't find the right ones or maybe it's because he likes to really make sure he's sure before he speaks.

I think it's because, in our relationship, I'm words, he's numbers.

Today, I got this email from my thinker husband. It brought me to tears and to my knees to thank my Lord that I have such a man who values our children as much as I do and who sees them as the blessing they are. Glory be, how I love this man of mine.

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From Luke today, via email:

So I find myself crying, sobbing, on the way to work this morning. I would apologize for being a man that cries, but I have learned to embrace these kinds of emotions. “You see Billy cried, because, well, he is a crier.” Through certain circumstances I was able to take my oldest daughter to breakfast this morning. As I am in the car driving, images begin to flash through my mind.

• Elizabeth (age 7) being able to get herself completely ready. She took extra time this morning to ‘look nice’ for daddy.
• When I get home from breakfast I see Ella, our youngest (age 2), getting out of the shower {I will not give any more details on that point}.
• I said “see ya” to my very pregnant wife, carrying our soon to be youngest daughter.

You see, this pregnancy has been different for me. In the past, I have taken the role of caring for the older kids and didn’t stop, nor have much time, to think about our new child on the way. With the kids being older now, things are even busier, but it is easier for all of us to spend time together. With this, I am able to enjoy each child and the beauty of what each one holds.

As I am looking through the windshield I think about my 7 yr old daughter and how she showers me with so much love each and every day. Then I remember how proud my 2 yr old was for me to see her being a ‘big girl’. Then I begin to think of our newest daughter on the way and the moments of joy she will bring me as a father and I don’t even know what they are yet.

All of this brings me to the Throne of God. Humbled he would entrust me to make decisions for these children that will shape there lives. Thankful he would bless me with smiles across a breakfast table, naked babies soaking wet with a huge smile, and to feel my daughter move in the womb. I have such a large responsibility to be a Priest, Profit, Provider, and Protector for my family. God equipped me today.

Savoring

I have a sweet (much younger) friend who is due with her first baby any day now. In fact, I snapped a few maternity pictures of her a few weeks ago, both of our abdomens swollen with child.








Isn't she precious?

As her due date slips closer and closer, I see the agony in her posts on facebook, begging her baby boy to come on out and meet the world. I can almost hear her exasperated sighs as she heaves herself off of the couch or out of the bed and shuffles to the bathroom yet again.

I can probably hear her fictitious sighs and empathize with her so well, because I am there too. Those sighs aren't aren't fictitious, they're being continually breathed through my own gritted teeth.

Only being a few weeks behind her in baby-growin' I can totally relate to my young friend. Granted, her uterus is probably a lot less floppy and unstable. And since this is her first pregnancy, and not her fourth, I'd be willing to bet that her hip sockets don't threaten to leave her nearly as frequently as mine do.

But none-the-less, I know she's reaching that pivotal point of miserable.

As I tried my best to encourage her to wait on that sweet boy and not rush for an induction, I found the Lord gently telling me so many things. Which prompted me to think, then write the following letter to myself from the recesses of my own, not-pregnant brain.

Dear 38 week pregnant (for the fourth time) self,

What did you really expect? I mean, this isn't your first rodeo. You know how these things go. You know that you've never, ever had a baby early. You know that you've never, even had a single birth without the help of that devil drug, pitocin. And, most likely, this baby isn't budging until that venom is injected into your veins. So really, maybe you should just chill out with all the natural and herbal attempts.

But more so than that, think about this....

This could be it for you. There is a very real chance that this could be the last time you ever feel those sweet baby kicks, bouncing baby hiccups and a tiny baby tushy rolling around inside you. As you ride in the car, lay in the bed and read stories to your babies, savor every second, every nudge, every painful shove because one day, you're going to miss this.

One day, many years from now, you'll see a largely pregnant woman waddling along and wish, even if for a brief fleeting second, that it was you stuffed into her too tight shoes. One day, you'll look at a mother, shuffling her kids around her like a mother hen with her chicks, her belly so swollen her hip bones are a distant memory, and you'll long to feel that swish, kick and jab deep within your belly. Heck, you might even wish for a foot under your ribs.

One day, when your children are all grown up and having babies of their own, maybe even when this sweet girl you're carrying inside you is carrying her own daughter, you'll vaguely be able to remember what if felt like to have a babe squished so tightly inside you.

One day, you'll know for sure that your child bearing years are over, your eyes will fill with tears, and you'll wonder how you ever got to this place where pregnancy was no longer an option. Maybe your future holds many more newborns, some from your own womb and possibly others from another woman's womb.

But treasure this moment. Treasure the time you have with just you and this sweet girl. Know, with confidence, that this time is fleeting. 30 short days from now, the likelihood is great that this girl will be in your arms and no longer sitting squarely on your bladder. You'll feel the twitch of a muscle, tenderly reach for your stomach and realize, all too quickly, that it's no longer a miracle inside you making that familiar sensation.

Time will fade your memories and one day and you'll wish you had savored these moments just a little more. You'll wish you had slowed down just a bit and enjoyed this time with your baby. Because before you know it, this sweet baby will be sleeping through the night, then using the potty and, all too soon, be able to live life without your constant care.

And in that moment you'll realize that you rushed these moments.

Floppy, Well Worn, Stretched

Those are never words you really enjoy being used in reference to your body. Much less your uterus.

I went to my OB yesterday to see which way little girl was laying. Last week she was breech (butt down). Yesterday, she was transverse (sideways). The OB shifted her to vertex (head down) and then proceeded to describe my uterus in terms that one would enjoy if it referenced jello or homemade banana pudding or even the consistency of perfectly cooked noodles.

Basically, the OB told me my uterus was like a "well worn pair of jeans...nice and comfy," then "floppy and unstable" and finally, "stretched like a used rubberband."

He blamed the twins. I agree. They have a way of wearing things out quickly.

At this point, the plan is for me to buy a pregnancy belt girdle, catch this girl head down and tighten up my stomach so that she can't move. That should be interesting considering she's spinning around like the hands on a clock.

I go back to the OB on Tuesday where he will check her again to see which way she's laying. I'll be 37.5 weeks by then and he said something about me getting to around 38 weeks, turning her to head down then breaking my water so that I'll go into labor.

The good news is that I most likely won't go 42+ weeks with this pregnancy. The bad news is that it's looking like, once again, I'll be induced. Which bums me out.

But I'll focus on the fact that in the next 2 weeks it's very likely I'll have a sweet little girl to cuddle, nuzzle and sniff.

Home stretch, here I come. LITERALLY.

Turn, turn, turn!

Well, if you don't follow me on twitter, or we're not friends on Facebook, you probably haven't heard the latest about my little in-utero trouble maker.

On Thursday night, little girl was doing some sort of alien type moves. At one point a perfect cone was standing an extra 4 inches tall on the left side of my stomach and the right side was a steep slope to the general area of where my hip bone used to be.

It was painful, to say the least.

Friday morning, as I showered, I found it harder than normal to bend over and wash my feet.

At my 36 week check up later that morning, my suspicions were confirmed. Baby girl is breech.

Thus my quest began and I googled everything I could on helping a baby turn from breech to vertex.

So far we've prayed, prayed and prayed. We've asked others to pray, our kids to pray, our friends to pray and begged the Lord for her to turn. I've laid inverted on an ironing board, propped against the couch with an ice pack on the top of my tummy and a hot pack on my pelvis. She moved, she kicked, she turned nearly half way. But this morning, her head was square under my ribs again.

Later this morning, I'm going to the chiropractor and hoping she can adjust my pelvis so that little lady has NO COMFORTABLE option but head down. I'll go again on Wednesday and on Thursday, my OB will see me and evaluate little lady to see if I'm a good candidate for an external cephalic version.

If those things don't work, I'm willing to try acupuncture, walking around exclusively on my hands and pitching a royal fit. I'm also willing to break out The Byrds, put headphones on my belly and blare it as loudly as possible.

I'm praying that when I go to the OB on Thursday, we will discover a head down baby, my water will break and I'll deliver her within the hour. I'd be happy if just the first statement is true, even if I'm praying for all 3.

How ironic would it be to have 3 successful, and pretty much routine, vajayjay deliveries - including a set of twins - and then have a c-section for this little stinker?

Motherhood is no joke

As I swollenly sit on the verge of swaddling, nursing sessions, sweet little diapers and tiny baby noises, I remember, so vividly anticipating the arrival of our first child.

Eight years ago I held another precious baby girl in my womb. Nestled inside, I could only wonder what lay beyond the delivery room doors.  You know, out in the real world. The world of sleepless nights, breastfeeding, colic and growth spurts. I wondered, very little actually, about life beyond the first 12 months of motherhood.

Consumed with thoughts of labor and delivery, soft spots, co-sleeping and nursery decor, I didn't think much about life beyond my baby's first birthday.

Now, that baby is 7.5 years old and about to be a big sister six times over. (And she's really awesome at the big sister gig, if I do say so myself. I think she's more excited about the baby than I am. Too bad people who only see us from a distance think our kids are "suffering" through another sibling.)

Eight years ago, I had NO IDEA that our lives would look the way they do now. Luke and I never really sat and planned out the whole big family thing. It just sort of happened as we followed God's lead. I remember six years ago, when we were eagerly anticipating the arrival of the twins, I would tuck Elizabeth into bed her crib (she was only 22 months old when the twins were born) and then I would sob over the loss of her childhood. I was so afraid she would be scarred for life by having Lucas and Ashlee dropped into her lap before her second birthday.

And if I'm being honest, some days I still worry. Not so much about Elizabeth but more now about Ella, Aaron and Olivia. Am I going to have time for them like I wish? Are they going to resent the baby because she will consume so much of my time? Will Ella have a hard time adjusting to her new life which will entail a lot LESS time on my hip?

But then there the things that happen that prove to me that our children will be just fine.

Olivia knocks her drink off the table and Lucas enthusiastically scrambles to clean it up for her, assuring her that it's okay and it was only an accident and "Bubby will get you some more."

Or a time when Ella is fussy because I'm cooking dinner and can't give her my undivided attention. So Ashlee goes out of her way to entertain her, finding every toy that Ella enjoys and playing with them so ridiculously that Ella can't help but giggle and squeal. Which frees me up to finish making dinner.

Or when I'm gone to Bible study and Luke is trying to put the little three to bed. Without being prompted, Elizabeth cleans off the table, clears all the dishes and puts all the left over food away.

She's SEVEN y'all. We've never asked her to do such a task because, well, she has chores and that's not one of them. But she did so because of the overflow of her tender, loving, serving heart.

God knew she needed to be first among this brood of kids. He knew. And just as He knew all the things that I was overlooking eight years ago as I carried her in my womb, He knows now. He knows that my mind drifts to life beyond the next 12 months much more now than it does the next 12. He knows just how much I want to SLOW DOWN TIME because I'm afraid I will forget so much. I'm afraid I'll look up and eight more years will have passed, just like the last eight have.

But I rest in knowing that the God who orchestrated the complex design of our growing family will lead us in the future, just as He has in the past, if we look to Him.

I rest in knowing that the time of sleepless nights, spit up, seemingly endless fatigue, cereal for dinner - again and loads and load of laundry will be short lived in the grand timeline of my life. I know that when I look back at my life 20 years from now, I'll wonder where it all went and I'll probably laugh at my immature self a whole lot.

Just as God has known from the very beginning that we'd have 7 children in 7.5 years, He too knows how the next months of my life will pan out as we transition to our 7th child. He is good. He is faithful. He's got an incredible sense of humor (I mean, COME ON, 7 kids in 7.5 years?)

And He knows that even though motherhood is no joke, most of the time, it's really funny.