Mother's Day...

It comes every year, this day. Every year I think it won't hurt. Every year I'm wrong. 

"You can't see anything properly while your eyes are blurred with tears." 
― C.S. Lewis, A Grief Observed

This year I weep for new reasons. I weep for the woman I am becoming that my mother never knew. I am learning, I am breaking, I am changing... She prayed for this, she longed for it. I weep as I come to know more of motherhood, I come to know more of her love for me. Her unbelievable love for me that I could not have fathomed until now. 


Will this day ever not hurt? I think not. For as I clutch my baby girl, I cannot help but think of how she must have held me so. And it's too late, too late to tell her, "thank you." 


I know I am surrounded by women aching as I... my dearest Kelley, this precious sister, and so many, many others. They understand. We are motherless daughters. 


“I thought I could describe a state; make a map of sorrow. Sorrow, however, turns out to be not a state but a process.” 

― C.S. Lewis, A Grief Observed

I believe it's alright to still grieve. To groan for heaven. To wish I could have her back. 


You keep track of all my sorrows. You have collected all my tears in your bottle. You have recorded each one in your book. ~Psalm 56:8

“When I lay these questions before God I get no answer. But a rather special sort of ‘No answer.’ It is not the locked door. It is more like a silent, certainly not uncompassionate, gaze. As though He shook His head not in refusal but waiving the question. Like, ‘Peace, child; you don’t understand.’”

― C.S. Lewis, A Grief ObservedI think she'd be so proud. I think she would love you, my precious friends... and how she'd love your babies. She'd love them all. I know she would love the Cafe, its mission and the exciting things on the horizon. She'd love the desires that are growing in my heart that I never knew were there. 

She'd be so proud of my siblings, their growth, graduations, lessons learned, performances, challenges, business accomplishments, auditions, & stumbles... So much is because of her. We all "rise up and call her blessed."


Yet, I acknowledge - this breaking, this learning, these knew passions - might all in fact be due to her absence. Due to the Lord's gentle and constant love, His all knowing and beautiful care of me.


My little one, bringing joy to all she meets...

Where will the Journey of Motherhood take me?

"Where will the Journey of Motherhood take you and what will the name Mom come to mean to your children?" 

This has been a trying week. I am tired, exhausted really. 

I feel as if I have entered a new world - as if real parenthood is beginning. I am watching my baby disappear.

Up to this point I have been feeding her, clothing her, loving her, praying over her, etc. But now I am beginning to see my daughter, my Beatrice emerge. This has brought insurmountable joy, but also a sense of sorrow. To realize that she is a sinner, as much as her Mommy and Daddy, is in the strangest way, heartbreaking. To understand that the default position of each of our hearts is to turn away from the very one who created us, deeply saddening.

Motherhood is beginning. I have been weighed down this week with a sense of urgency, and sense of heaviness as I ponder the role I find myself in. What does it mean to instil discipline in my little one? To train her to have self control, patience, kindness, etc? I read this quote recently and found it encouraging. "Discipline is not action taken in moments of correction but an ongoing relationship with... parent and child. Discipline is a process of training and learning that fosters moral development. It comes from the same word as disciple—one who is a learner." 

I think that defines the stage we are in right now; perhaps for the rest of my journey. We are learning, both Beatrice and I. I to be the parent, she to be the child.

The next few months promise to be challenging as I meet face to face with my daughter's emerging will. I pray, oh I pray, for wisdom, for patience, for gentleness, and above all, for an eternal perspective. 

Beatrice, I love you so my sweet little one. May you continue to bring joy to all you meet. May the Holy Spirit stir in your heart a deep longing for our Father even now as you sleep.

Isn't this a beautiful thought... "The home environment that has a mother preoccupied with heaven as much as earth, is a Mom destined to shape kingdoms."

Here are a few photos from the last month or so, the moments are truly fleeting. 

At our first Tea Party in honor of the Royal Wedding.

It was very sunny, but she is still beautiful.

I love her furrowed brow. She has her daddy's expressive eyes.

Some apple on a hot day.

Her first time in a swing...

She loved it!

At the Strawberry Festival... kissing a calf. She adores animals.

Observing the chicks...

Voice: an instrument or medium of expression

I have been struggling to find my voice. My new voice. My voice as a Mother. I knew myself before. I had learnt of myself as a woman, as a daughter, as a friend, as a student  as a wife, as an expectant mother. But who am I now?

This world that I have entered into is beautiful, fascinating, overwhelming and frighting all at once. I feel so naive. So immature. How can I speak with any authority on anything? How did I speak before? I know so little. I am learning. Oh, I am learning so very much. But it all comes so quickly I feel there is hardly a moment to sit and write it down before I am learning something new and of much greater importance.

A mother. Me? A mother is one with wisdom, knowledge and understanding. A mother is one with experience and skill. The precious author, Mike Mason says, "If only I had understood that being a father is not something I needed to become but something I already was... Over time I could grow in maturity as a father, but I would never be more of a father than I was at the outset." I long to grasp this.

Motherhood didn't arrive gradually, like pregnancy. It didn't grow gently and predictably within a span of 40 weeks. No. It came all at once. In one fantastic moment the magnificent burden of motherhood was placed on my shoulders.

Shortly after my last post on Christmas Eve we came to the realization that Beatrice was small, too small. She spit up excessively, not painfully, and mostly with a smile on her face, but the first few months of this year were spent trying to determine the cause. This was so hard for me. My first true challenge in the role of "Mother" and I had no idea what I was doing. I wrestled with God, with all the advice I was given and with my own doubts and insecurities. I didn't feel I was in a place where writing here would benefit anyone.

Nothing at all was wrong with her. We began feeding her vegetables at 4 and 1/2 months. Which broke my heart (I had wanted to wait). But as a dear friend graciously reminded me, "it is not about my desires for her life, but God's." Once she began her solid foods of avocado and sweet potato, the breastmilk stayed down and she began to "look" healthy again. She is still small, but I am learning to smile when people comment on her size, knowing that this is how the Lord made her. She is my "little one".

But what I have struggled with is this. How do I share our struggles and trials without sounding like I ungrateful for what I have been given? And how do I rejoice in the small moments of joy Beatrice shares with us every day without sounding like I am full of pride. The internet can so quickly become a place of comparison, which many mothers (including myself) have said can be such a cause of grief and despair. Wouldn't it defeat the very meaning of my little one's life? She is my "bringer of joy", not sorrow.

So I will continue to struggle; for I have been granted that freedom.

I have not found my voice yet, no, but 4 years after my precious mother's entrance to heaven, I can tell you that I am more grateful than ever for her constant pursuit of wisdom and knowledge. She was not perfect, but she was my mother.

I have been pondering the following two sentences this morning as I seek to parent my every growing little one who will be 8 months tomorrow. I will leave you with them... what a glorious burden indeed. "There are certain virtues worth acquiring, such as kindness, goodness, gentleness, charity, honesty, honor, and respect. Since these qualities are not naturally found in a child's life, they must be instilled and nurtured into his or her heart." -Parenting Author

Come, thou long expected Jesus...

Never have I felt such expectation for Christmas.   

Sitting here in the glow of our tree with my little girl sound asleep in her bed, I remember what it was 

like to yearn for her, to long for her, to expect her. How I pray that I can begin to desire my Savior in the 

same way. 

He came to earth as a baby as small as my Beatrice; as helpless and as fragile. As utterly dependent upon 

Mary as Beatrice is upon me. What great condensation. What a miracle. To be so utterly human when 

he was so fully God. 

I am amazed at the joy my tiny daughter has brought to my soul; shouldn't the Savior of the World 

bring me more...

Oh Father, I rejoice on this Christmas Eve that you did indeed come to set your people free.

Come, thou long expected Jesus, 
 born to set thy people free; 
 from our fears and sins release us, 
 let us find our rest in thee.  
 Israel's strength and consolation, 
 hope of all the earth thou art; 
 dear desire of every nation, 
 joy of every longing heart.

Joy Comes in the Morning...

She will be 12 weeks old on Monday. I simply cannot believe it; she has taught me so much. There haven't been many moments to write, but there have been many moments worth writing about. 

We have come a long way since that first month. I am continually amazed at my ability to learn new truths daily. I do believe my greatest lesson since I last wrote has been that I must relinquish control and trust that God will be glorified in my weakness.   

I hope to catch up on the last weeks over the next few days, but for now, here are a few photos of our "bringer of joy" in the morning... our favorite time of day.

Thoughts & Photos from Our First 3 Weeks

On Monday she will be 4 weeks old. My, what lessons I have learned in the first 3 weeks.

Week 1) His grace is sufficient.
              The love of friends is miraculous.
              In the darkness His truth shines the brightest.
              His mercies are new every morning.

Not many people talk about the hormonal ups and downs after birth. No matter how beautiful the delivery, hormones will still adjust and leave an emotional mother in their wake, thank you Leslie for preparing me.
Breastfeeding is beautiful, perfect and wonderful, but it still takes work - hard work. It is more than worth it, but it does not come without determination, and support. Thank you Laurie for your unending education and love.
Functioning on little sleep is almost comical. Eating is crucial, and remembering to nearly impossible. Laundry builds and houses get dirtier faster than ever before. Thank you Kelley for taking better care of the three of us than we ever deserved, we could not have made it without you.

As a new mother I learned more in a 24 hour period than I typically learned in a month. God was faithful to sustain through that first week. I could not have done it without my sisters in Christ who surrounded me, uplifted me, and labored for me. Thank you to each of you for your prayers, time, love, smiles, food, laughter, tea, phone calls, emails, etc. You were truly instruments of His grace.

Week 2) The deeper that I go in the valley, there His glory shines so bright.
               I am blessed with an amazing husband. He is bone of my bone and flesh of my flesh.
               My own expectations are my worst enemy.
               When friends tell me they take joy in service, I must trust them.

I expected too much of myself. I thought I would be "on top of things" by week two. I thought I could "do it on my own". I was wrong. I needed help. It was so hard to ask for, but the outpouring was beautiful. Through all of this I was reminded of my frailty and His power. I was humbled and encouraged. Without the darkness, I truly would not have seen the beauty that surrounds me.

Week 3) When I am weak, He is strong.
               All of creation declares His majesty.
               Joy comes in the morning.

The clouds will part and the sun will come out! The beautiful October weather, fresh air and sunshine did wonders for my soul. Walks and coffee are beautiful things, despite "blow-out" diapers and crazy spit-ups. We spent a lovely family day on Saturday the 16th having breakfast crepes at the Community Market and apple doughnuts at Morris Orchard. To me, it signaled the beginning to our new way of living. What craziness, what fun. God is so good.

I love these next photos with all my heart. Thank you Chris and Whitney.

A Glimpse of Her Birth...

These photos are like precious gems to me. They are all we have and I am glad. This birth was sacred to me and I couldn't be more thankful that my husband was by my side, and not behind the camera. 

I vaguely remember him capturing these first three photos as I neared the end of a contraction.

My dear Mauresa photographed these next two images. I love their dream-like quality. That's precious Barbie there in the first image, taking such beautiful care of me and Adam. In the second photo you'll see our silhouettes as I lean on my loving husband.

 Adam took these last photos are of our first latch. I love my little curly head girl, and the way my wedding band is slightly in focus. I cannot thank Laurie enough for her excellent coaching at this crucial point. This moment will be with me for ever and ever.

Her Story (Part Two)

The Birth of Beatrice Elise Barnes 

I don't talk much about my birth choices... but before I tell the rest of the story of Beatrice's Birth I must inform you of my decisions. And they are simply that, my decisions. This is not a decision I feel is right for every woman. But it was right for me. My decision is not better than the decisions of other mothers. It was best for me. I do not judge the decisions made by any other mother, I ask that you do the same for me.

We chose to plan a home birth with Certified Professional Midwife, Leslie Payne and Doula, Laurie Flower. 

Here is a link to an excellent, albeit a little "new-agey", film, I agree with their final statement. "Accept your responsibility. Find YOUR truth." This is ALL I believe. We as mothers are responsible for seeking out our truth.

OK, I'm off of my soap box. Now onto the story of this precious girl's arrival.

At the end of the last post it was 6:00pm and we had just checked in with our dear friend and Doula, Laurie. I tried my hardest to rest, but quite frankly I had missed my window for resting while I was gallivanting around T.J.Maxx! I attempted to lie down, but found it was more comfortable to pile all six of our pillows into a tower on our bed and rest my head while sitting up.

Adam went downstairs around 6:45pm to make himself a bowl of grits and relax, apparently thinking things were about to slow down. Poor guy. At 7:00pm, right as Extreme Home Makeover was beginning, I believe I experienced my first Active Labor contraction. Sitting was no longer an option, and neither was ignoring these signals from my body. It was time to get to work. I jumped up and let my body move through the intensity, then called downstairs to Adam.

He came bounding up the stairs and I informed him it was time to call Laurie, Barbie, our dear friend and Assistant, and Mauresa. Things had changed and I needed my support.

Laurie said she was on her way, Barbie had just gotten off work (another praise!) and she would be over with a few of my food requests, and Mauresa would be there as soon as possible with the dinner we were to have eaten together in her home at 8:00pm.

I believe at this point Adam brought me one of my birth Cd's, (which I had just made a few days prior), filled with quiet worship music. I changed into my "birth outfit", consisting of my bikini top, a pink jersey dress and a pink headband, (inspired by my friend, Erica).

I must tell you that even though I could acknowledge that things had changed, I truly did not believe I was in Active Labor. I kept thinking that everything would end, that I was making a fool of myself by calling everyone over, and that I would just be changing out of my birth outfit later that evening.

After changing I continued to try and rest in between contractions. I will tell you that I began crying tears of joy. How is it that God could be so gracious. How could my child be coming at this moment? Her father is home, it was a rainy chilly night, everyone was available, my house was clean, everything was in order. I was not deserving of such joy. But she was coming. My bringer of joy was on her way.

Laurie arrived at 7:30pm, I remember her holding me and crying with me. What a miracle. My little girl was coming. She asked Adam to pray over me and over the birth and then it started - I entered "labor land". The following times have only been relayed to me by those in attendance. I literally felt like I was in a land of my own. And what a wonderful place it was!

Laurie worked through a few contractions with me upstairs, but as soon as Mauresa arrived with food, she insisted I head downstairs to eat! I ate Mauresa's delicious soup in the den on my birthing ball, while Laurie kept asking for "carbs" for me.

After eating some soup and bread, I starting working with the stairs - climbing up and down sideways while holding on to the banister, with deep squats on every step. After doing a few sets of singles we switched to two at a time working with the contractions. Laurie suggested we labor in Beatrice's nursery for a little while, using her glider to alleviate some lower back pressure. What a joy it was to be in my soft lit nursery bringing my little girl into the world. Barbie arrived and quickly prepared some wonderful warm compresses for me. I was able to rest my head and arms on the glider and rock back and forth on my knees while Barbie and Laurie applied the compresses. Adam prayed again and I felt surrounded by love and support.

I wanted to start working with my body again. We went out into the hall and this would be the point when my ballet background kicked in; I thought it might, and hoped it would, but I didn't know to what extent. I used a section of wall and did deep grande-plies in second, breathing deeply and working with each contraction. I loved this so much that they suggested I continue what I was doing, but in our shower. We have a wonderful shower with two shower heads, and the lower one can be aimed right on your back.

I entered the shower around 9:00pm and adored it! They brought my music in, lit candles and kept refilling my water bottle again and again. I was never alone, yet I was granted the utmost privacy. I always had a supporter right outside of the shower, they rotated, Laurie, Barbie, Adam, Laurie, Barbie, Adam. They read scripture over me, prayed for me and Beatrice, brought me frozen peppermint compresses (heaven!) and surprised me with a book full of prayers and notes from friends. In between contractions I was able to talk and laugh, and during I was fully engaged in the work of my body. I believe it was at this point that I began to talk to my body and to Beatrice. Don't laugh, but in this deep guttural voice I started saying things such as "down", "open", "good girl, Beatrice", "come on little girl", and so much more. I began using my entire body, not just my legs, but my arms and hands to stretch and almost dance. It helped immensely to keep my body loose and to keep me from tightening anything. I also found my animal moan at this point. I loved hearing it echo on the shower tile, I loved how it reverberated inside me, it felt so wonderful. It reminded me of vocal/acting relaxation exercises.

Leslie, my spectacular midwife was called at some point and arrived around 10:30pm while I was still in the shower. Apparently I was in the shower for a whole 2 hours. I depleted the house of its hot water supply, and still remained in the shower. I vomited up all of my extra large lunch from that afternoon, (again, it felt so wonderful), and still I remained in the shower, I absolutely loved it! Leslie, didn't mind my singing or my shower dancing or my other-worldly birth chants, she just watched me carefully and asked to hear Bea's heartbeat every once and a while. Oh, the heartbeat! Every time she would put the doptone up to my belly and I could hear my little one's strong heartbeat it was as if I was filled with a brand new dose of energy.

Around 11:00pm, they informed me that the den and the birthing tub were ready. They had Adam climb in the shower with me to share a couple of moments with me before we transitioned to the next phase. It was like a dream. He massaged me with organic lavender body wash and told me what a magnificent job I was doing. What a gift.

I remember getting out of the shower and someone wrapping me in a towel. I remember Adam trying to help me down the stairs, but I must have been in the middle of a contraction, because I wanted no assistance.

Then it happened. I walked into my dream come true. For months I had dreamed of this moment, and it was here. I had written a "wish list" for my birth during my fabulous Childbirth Education Classes but never did I imagine it could look so beautiful. There were candles everywhere, the windows were down and the sound of pouring rain and a cold soothing breeze were slipping in, there was a roaring fire in the fireplace (my one request everyone thought was crazy, but it was PERFECT for this cool night), my carefully chosen music filled the air, and surrounding the huge birthing tub were the best support team anyone could ask for. I burst into tears. I couldn't believe that this was the night God had ordained for the birth of my child. This was the night he would temper judgment with mercy.

I climbed into the tub, and after an hour in a cold shower, it felt incredible! I felt so light and buoyant. Everything I had heard about laboring in the water was accurate. I loved it. It did change the feel of labor completely, but with coaching and encouragement I was able to feel the transition and change with it. I continued to move, moan, dance and speak in my low birthing voice. Not once did I feel ridiculous or silly. Everything felt so right. I could feel my body working to deliver my baby, and I wanted to help as much as I could.

At around 1:30am they suggested I get out of the tub and try to use the restroom. I complied, but as I was climbing out a contraction came on, and I had to MOVE! I apparently took off around the house circling and circling the main floor; shaking out my limbs and marching to keep anything from tightening. I must have seen the blinds were all open, and I was appalled! Barbie scrambled to close all of the curtains and out of the corner of my eye I saw her fly across the dining room. I later found out she had tripped over Laurie's suitcase! What dear friends I have. After the contraction came to an end I attempted to use the restroom, but to no avail. Adam told me that they needed me to rest and relax at this point (apparently I was working too hard). They tried to have me lie down, but I despised that position, instead we moved to the den doorway, and while I hung on the door frame, Laurie and Barbie swung my hips from side to side as I moaned, "surrender". (I wish everyone could hear my husband's impression of me at this point.) The doorway failed to let me do what my body wanted, so I grabbed Adam and hung from his neck while continuing the same rocking. This felt so great, and truly helped relieve my lower back pressure.

I climbed back into the tub, and again, things changed. After throwing up again, (my poor helpers - I vaguely remember them scrambling to find something for me to vomit into), there was a moment where I lost my confidence. But with one look into the eyes of my amazing support, and one request that they assure me I could do this, I was back on track. I began chanting my new mantra, of, "I can do this. My body can do this."Adam climbed into the tub with me and in between contractions they had me recline into his arms to rest. Again, it couldn't have been more beautiful.

At 2:40am I had a contraction different than all the ones before and at the end I felt my body pushing. What?! You must remember I had thought earlier that I was only fooling myself, and somehow I still couldn't believe it was true. It felt like only minutes had passed. In astonishment I told Leslie I felt like I needed to push. I knew she was going to tell me I was crazy, so I asked if she needed to check me or something. She told me that there was no need. I had known what my body needed till now, and that Bea's heartbeat was wonderful, so I needed to do what I needed to do.

Pushing naturally isn't really pushing. It's more like falling. There is nothing you can do to stop it. Your body just does it. I hate to compare it to this, but it's truly like vomiting. Your body has such power that you can't resist it. It is impossible to fight against it, and you simply need to relinquish your control and let your body do what it needs to. With every contraction I had 3 or 4 rushes of pushing. I could literally feel her descending. It was magnificent. The pressure was insane and the stretching sensation unlike any other, but all together amazing.

1 or 2 contractions into pushing I felt my water break. What a feeling. It was as if a giant balloon had just burst inside of me. After 5 or 6 contractions I asked Leslie to help me understand where she was in the descent. She described how she was working her way underneath the pubic bone. It felt so right. After 5 or 6 more contractions it was truly time.

With my husband holding and supporting me from behind they coached me into a position where I could use my whole body. With the next contraction she began to crown. The next contraction brought her a little farther. The next contraction even farther. Leslie told me to feel the top of her head and I couldn't believe it. It was such a small portion, what a miracle the overlapping of an infant's skull is. Over the next few contractions the rest of her head began to emerge until I could put my entire hand over the top of her head. AMAZING!! I think that so many talk about this point feeling like a "ring of fire", and a burning sensation. But I truly could only call it stretching, crazy stretching.

Then, at 3:38am, Monday the 27th of September, a day before her due date, there in the birthing tub, it happened. With the next contraction and the 4 rushes that accompanied it I pushed, pushed, pushed and then SHE BURST FORTH!!! All of her! It was if she exploded into this world! No head, and then waiting for the next contraction for her body, no, my precious little one came flying into Leslie's arms.

I couldn't believe it. Here was the child we had labored in prayer for. I couldn't believe it. Here was the child that grew in my womb, that was bringing joy into such darkness. I couldn't believe it.

She was immediately placed in my arms and when I looked up, every eye was full of tears. My husband, her father, was sobbing tears of joy as he held us both. Here she was. I swear I could hear the angels singing, and my mother joining in the chorus! She was so beautiful. My daughter. My Beatrice Elise.

Praise to the Lord
Who o'er all things so wonderfully reigneth
Shelters thee under His wings
Yea, so gladly sustaineth
Hast thou not seen how thy desires e'er have been
Granted in what He ordaineth

1 Samuel 1:26-27 "And she said, “Oh, my lord! As you live, my lord, I am the woman who was standing here in your presence, praying to the Lord. For this child I prayed, and the Lord has granted me my petition that I made to him."

Her Story (Part One)

The Events Preceding the Birth of Beatrice Elise Barnes

What joy has come to our home. What a miracle I have beheld. What glory belongs to my God. 

It's hard to know where to begin. So I'll start with the preceding events that make the story of her arrival even more spectacular.

Adam has had weddings scheduled for the weekends surrounding her due date since before her conception. Many have asked us if this frightened us at all, and we have honestly answered, "no." The Lord is fully aware of my husbands profession. We firmly believed that if it was His will that Adam were to be present at Beatrice's birth, he would be there. We prayed daily and daily Adam would lovingly tell Beatrice, "now Beatrice, you need to come when Daddy says to come." And Daddy always "said to come" anytime between September 26th and October 5th, but preferably the earlier the better, so that he could spend as much time with her as possible. Now of course he said this in jest, but just keep this in mind.

Tuesday morning the 21st of September I woke up thinking my water was leaking. It wasn't, but boy did it put me in preparation overdrive. I had always thought that Beatrice would come late, so I was dilly-dallying on the final details. Not after Tuesday. Throughout the week I finished all of my birth projects and then on Saturday, September 25, as Adam shot his final wedding, and motivated by a friend's kind offer to help, I cleaned and organized our little house from top to bottom.

At 5:00pm, that same Saturday, I lost my mucus plug. I called Adam, and left a message informing him there were no contractions accompanying this occurrence, but I wanted him to be aware. I called my Midwife and Doula (yes, it is finally time for you to know the details surrounding this birth), and while they were both excited, we all agreed this meant the baby could come any time - now or later. I kept cleaning.

I finished my last task as Adam walked in the door. He was done and I was done! As we crawled into bed at midnight we both said, "Ok, Beatrice, it's time!"

I began contracting shortly after we went to bed, but this was common for the evenings, and since I had been cleaning so vigorously I was not surprised. Throughout the night as I rose to use the restroom (too many times to count at that point) I noticed they still hadn't stopped, but again, no big deal. At 6am Sunday morning I woke Adam and asked if he would massage my lower back, again, cleaning must have made me sore.

He massaged me for a while and then we got up and prepared for church. I told him I really thought it was nothing, and if it was "something" worshiping would definitely keep my mind off of things. Besides there was a catered lunch we were to attend and I was looking forward to it!

It was a beautiful fall day and I enjoyed layering up in a sweater and boots! We got our Starbucks and met up with friends who were visiting our church. On the way to church Adam asked me to at least text Laurie, my Doula and dear friend, with an update. I obeyed.

I can't tell you how splendid it was to worship my living God, who 9 months ago granted us the desire of our hearts.

I chatted with friends after church, all the while "plie-ing" and moving. Once we were back in the car, Adam insisted I call Leslie, the Midwife, Laurie, and Barbie, friend and Assistant Midwife. I felt ridiculous, again, I just KNEW I wasn't in labor. I left messages with all three and went and joined dear friends over a deliscious lunch! I asked Adam for seconds, thinking that if for some strange reason "this was real" I should eat as much as I could.

Leslie called back and suggested I head home after this lunch and nap. Either I was up for another night of contractions, or active labor was on the horizon. She asked me to stay hydrated, and she was glad I was eating such a large lunch.

I chatted with my dear friend Julie, and at Adam's prompting, finally headed out around 2:30pm.

Instead of going straight home, Adam asked if I would instead enjoy a rainy day drive with the heated seats. We had a few errands to run for the nursery, and I couldn't see why not! We drove to T.J.Maxx and I began to time my contractions on the way. Adam had previously downloaded this nifty Contraction Timing App for his I-Phone, and it was nice to just tap "start" and "stop", and let it do all the recording.

We walked through T.J.Maxx selecting frames for her carousel photos Adam shot in NYC, as I timed contractions and did deep plies when no one was looking.

We drove to Joe Beans (where I got a decaf caramel spice latte) then to Lowes where I sat in the parking lot timing contractions and Adam ran inside. At this point I was noticing that these silly contractions were all roughly 50 - 60 seconds long. Through our excellent childbirth classes I knew that contractions of this length were worth noticing. This frustrated me slightly, and I began to think I was timing them incorrectly. I called Laurie, who was also our childbirth instructor, and left another message.

Once we finally reached the house at 6:00pm Adam and I both spoke to Laurie who told me I was indeed timing correctly and she thought active labor was beginning. WHAT?! She urged me to rest in a completely dark room for an hour and to have Adam call her at 7pm with a status report.

This is where I feel "Part One" ends, and "Part Two" begins.... so I'll leave you in suspense.

Remember, this was Sunday, September 26th. To God be the Glory, GREAT things he has done!

Room Transformation #2

These photos are from the nursery painting back in August, but they are the in-between, so they deserve to be posted before the finished product photos. 

You can get a good idea of the space and the beautiful soft "ballet pink" Adam created especially for his baby girl. We couldn't be happier with the end result.

If you look closely you can see the bedding peeking out from under that sheet... and the amazing chair!

Gorgeous! Barely pink. Soothing, inspiring and just the perfect color for all the art that is now on her walls!

We are putting some last finishing touches on the room before taking the final set of photos... but I promise to have them up as soon as possible. 

Oh, sweet girl, we can't wait to meet you.

Preparing to become childlike...

As I near the end of this journey I feel less and less like I am preparing to become a mother and more and more like I am preparing to become childlike.

As Mike Mason says, "Being childlike involves mastering the art, not just of remembering, but of keeping the past so fresh it seems to be one with the present. Children have no past. For them there are no "good old days"; there are only good new days. When things have always been this way there is nothing to which to compare the present. There is no past, there is only now. And 'now is the time of God's favor, now is the day of salvation'" (2 Corinthians 6:2) 

I long to see this world for the first time, through her fresh eyes. Again, Mason says, "A baby is fallen and sinful, but she is also more innocent than her parents. Isn't this because babies have been with God more recently than we have? They have just come from beholding his face."Ah, what a glorious thought!

Oh, this is what I desire. To be taught by my daughter. To see her experience the beauty of this world for the first time, again and again with such delight, and yet to know so much more than I.

As we get closer and tasks are getting accomplished, I find myself caring less and less about the "things" to be done and more and more about preparing my heart for her.

So, yes, there will hopefully be a post this week with nursery updates, because it is truly transforming into a joyful yet peaceful sanctuary, and I want you to be able to share in our excitement! Our pastor once said that, "Joy is Peace Dancing & Peace is Joy Resting". This is exactly the type of room we have sought to create, and by the Lord's grace it is coming together.

I am feeling wonderful. Beatrice is growing and growing and I couldn't be more grateful. Her body is almost completely distinguishable from the outside, which is thrilling and comical at the same time.

I told someone today that I am so curious to know her story, or at least it's beginning. The preparations are almost complete, and so now my darling girl, it's up to you. We can't wait to meet you and watch as the Lord writes the story of your life.

My Beatrice, we continue to pray that you will always be sensitive to the Holy Spirit and that you will hear his voice. That you will be confident in the Lord's calling and that you will truly bring joy to all you meet.

I also hope to do one post on our beautiful trip to New York several weeks ago. But here is one photo Adam took for her nursery while we were there... 

A New Perspective...

Thank you, thank you.

Each of your comments, personal notes, facebook messages, etc. comforted me in ways unimaginable.

Today I am filled with a rest and peace, knowing that I am surrounded by a community of women who have gone before me and who are currently walking this road with me.

I stumbled upon this beautiful song... It delivers the same message many of you so lovingly shared with me.



I can't wait to hold her in my arms. I have a feeling I will say the same words as the artist, "I never knew His love.. Until I knew this love".

A Letter from my Father

My Daddy sent me this letter yesterday... I am posting it in hopes that it might encourage you today.

May you, my dear friends, be free to enjoy and love as Christ did.

I love you daddy. Thank you for being such a beautiful example of parenting to both Adam and I.

My Dearest Lauren,

As I was reading today's chapters in my 'reading through the Bible in a year' plan (remember when Mom used to do that?), I was assigned, among other chapters, I Samuel, Chapter 1.

I know you have referenced this story and these passages numerous times over the last few months and I imagine you have pondered them deeply in your heart as well. They speak of many things, don't they? That God really cares for us. That sometimes His answers are not 'No', but rather 'in My time, dear child'. That He really does delight in bringing us joy. That He truly hears our prayers...It's remarkable how the trajectory of life sometimes takes off in unexpected and strange directions. Even more astonishing (to me anyway) is how quickly it all seems to pass.  'Poof'- like Brigadoon - it vanishes.  Just like that. Where did it go, I wonder?

God has been pleased to bless you and Adam, yet another time, with Beatrice. I think you know I couldn't be happier for you both! It's been a while to be sure, but I remember quite fondly the days of playing peek-a-boo and reading books and changing dirty diapers. Such thoughts bring me smiles...many of them. I look forward to reliving some of those moments with Beatrice.

And I also want you to know that I understand how bittersweet this is for you. I've told you at least once (I believe) how Mom was brought to tears at the sight of a young grandmother holding her grandbaby as she and I waited together in a lobby at Virginia Baptist Hospital. She knew, even though I was still believing for a miracle, that she was witnessing with her eyes one of the few blessings of life that would never be hers to enjoy. It truly broke her heart.

But because I knew your mother better than anybody else in the world, I knew exactly what she was thinking as the tears started to roll down her still beautiful but sadly taut and emaciated face. She sized things up quickly (as she was always able to do). Mom didn't take any more or less time then than she ever took when faced with a situation that was not to her liking. Disappointments to your mother, like most other things, were in short order run through her remarkably tight theological grid. Your mother, although imperfectly, truly attempted to allow her theology (how things REALLY are according to Scripture) to inform her actions and attitudes.

She cried as she watched the young grandmother caress and embrace her grandbaby. But she regained her composure. Not because she feared how she might look to the strangers and onlookers about, but rather because she already had processed her feelings - theologically. Some, and I sadly fear many, would say that people don't really do that. But they do, Lauren. And God's Word tells us to, as you well know. Your mother did it.

Mom believed that we didn't DESERVE anything, except that is, the condemnation that our sin and rebellion brought upon us. And so, even through her tears, even in the midst of her pain, she subordinated her emotions and feelings to the Sovereign Creator in whose presence she knew she would shortly be. For above all things she knew that she had been 'translated from darkness into the Kingdom of His marvelous light.' And measured against this unspeakable blessing, save being in His very presence herself, every other desire or want or hope or wish or expectation simply paled.

Regardless of what her culture insisted, irrespective of what her emotions and feelings were creating inside of her, despite what her Christian friends with poorer theological training might say...she KNEW that her God was good and that His goodness was not to be measured by (just) the pleasant and favorable things He brought to her. I know for a fact that being a grandmother (especially to your children!) would have been one of the supreme honors of her life. But I also know for a fact that she didn't feel as though she deserved it.

Thus, she was not left the option to pout, whine, whimper or throw a 'pity party'. To do so would have been an extreme display of ingratitude for her. For she knew that she had already, in fact, been handed the greatest blessing of all  -- Christ in her, the hope of glory! She believed that the habit of presuming upon God's goodness would truly break the heart of her Lord who, through His death, had already made her a joint-heir of His kingdom! And so it was against the truthful statements found within the pages of Holy Writ that she decided to weigh all of her expectations and wants and desires and even the disappointments of this life. She knew her Bible well enough to know 'that the present sufferings of this world didn't compare to the glory of what was awaiting her.'

Furthermore, if her theology wouldn't allow her to feel sorry for herself, neither did it allow her to dwell on misfortune. To choose to linger too long on the questions of 'WHY?' (sin of commission) or to not earnestly enough seek to get beyond the providential ordering of our lives (sin of omission) is to imply of the One Who loves us supremely that He, in fact, must not. For if He did love us, we are tempted to ask, why would He allow such things to happen?

For your mother, such questions and attitudes were...well, yes...theologically inappropriate. Scripture taught her that her Heavenly Father is not arbitrary. NOTHING, she believed, could happen to her unless it was for her own good as well as His glory. She knew all too well that those who spend too much time asking 'WHY?' have that much less time and energy to look and watch and anticipate the good which He providentially ordained would spring forth. Or worse yet, preoccupation with one's own misfortune results in an inability to feel or notice or enter into our neighbor's pain.

Trusting God when things go as we would have them is a rather simple thing, don't you think? It's when things don't go our way that our character is tested and our understanding of God is heightened.

What your mother grasped so well, again according to Scripture, was that our peace and happiness is found neither in having what we want, nor getting what we think we deserve. Happiness and joy are found in obedience and trust. There is a marked difference between the two perspectives. For, as the Good Book states, 'His ways are not our ways'.

And then, of course, there is the 'flip side' of embracing good theology. And this, I think, is where Mom really benefited. Good theology begets good theology. If your mother truly believed that she didn't DESERVE anything good, then she was free to fully ENJOY everything.  That was her secret, my dearest Lauren. Nobody knew that better than me.

I pray that you'll feel your mother's 'freedom' during the last eight weeks of your pregnancy. I pray also that you'll realize how to best honor her. I think she would tell you not to dwell on the fact that she won't be here (physically) with us and Beatrice, and to rather pray that God would use this experience to somehow give you a profound ability to see, feel and minister to the pain and hurt of your fellow man. I think she would say to focus on (and verbalize back to God) the innumerable blessings of your life and not on the profound but singular disappointment of not having her present. I think she would warn you that to many women who have never even known their real mother (or whose relationship with them was abusive) you might appear rather spoiled, self-absorbed and ungrateful. I think she would remind you to be sure to count your blessings in light of the millions of women whose lifelong dream of having a baby will never come true.

Your mother believed with every fiber of her being that God was not obligated to grant her anything good. And she embraced fully the sovereignty of God in all things. That was her secret to ENJOYing 'all things richly.' And it is something that she desperately wanted all of her children (and husband) to embrace.

Let's honor her, my dearest.

Daddy

The Arts and My Beatrice

Because of my mother, I have a passion for the arts. Oh, I pray, Beatrice might share this same love.

Today I had the opportunity to watch 29 children perform in a production that I was blessed to choreograph. What joy it brought me to see their smiles as they created living art. For the past six weeks I have also been able to teach the beauty of ballet to 3 & 4 year olds. How splendid it was to see their eyes sparkle as they danced their own versions of famous ballets such as "Sleeping Beauty" and "Petrushka".

Our Lord is the ultimate creator, all we must do is look around to see the "performances" that surround us. The thunder of His storms, the songs of His birds, the light of His sunsets.

My husband and I share this artistic passion, and for that I am so fortunate. Beatrice, may you grow up surrounded by beauty! A most favorite quote of ours is by Jerram Barrs, and it reads:


"Our work in any field of the arts will be imitative. We will be thinking God's thoughts after Him—painting with His colors; speaking with His gift of language; exploring and expressing His sounds and harmonies; working with His creation in all its glory, diversity, and in-built inventiveness. In addition, we will find ourselves longing to make known the beauty of life as it once was in Paradise, the tragedy of its present marring, and the hope of our final redemption. All great art will contain this element of being an echo of Eden: Eden in its original glory, Eden that is lost to us, and Eden restored."


How appropriate this statement is after my earlier post this week. This world in which we live is tragically marred, and here I am, longing to know the beauty of what once was. May the art I create always lead back to Eden! Sweet Beatrice, may you long for the day when Eden is restored.