Monthly Archives: July 2012

All He takes away

There’s nothing for a couple like good couple friends. Friends who feel to drop by for dinner, call you up spontaneously, cry with you, work alongside you, text you when they’re in need of prayer. Eat your ravaged mustard mash that didn’t turn out quite right with nary a word of complaint.

Especially when they’re not only your couple friends, but your bandmates. Who have also been in your Bible study for 3 years. Oh, and are on the worship team at church with you. And when the female component of this couple is your best girlfriend.

In case you haven’t caught on yet, I’m talking about my friends Eric and Carrie.

Carrie was the one who kicked my butt into the world of blogging over two years ago. Carrie was the first person to call me after our break-in in January. She took me for my first pedicure. Carrie’s thrift shopping stamina is enough to satisfy even this hard-core thrift shopper. And Eric and Carrie forced us to go to a Regency Ball . . . twice!

Carrie invited me to sing back-up vocals for one of her gigs one fall long ago, which put the wheels in motion for the formation of our band, Thornfield.

Eric and Carrie were the first people I played one of my original songs for (with the exception of my husband, of course!), and the catalysts for my songs actually ending up not only being performed in front of actual people, but recorded on our CD. They have encouraged, challenged, pushed, comforted, and advised me.

I can’t say what Eric and Carrie have been to me in the past 3 years.

Now they are moving to North Carolina (a process started long ago), where Eric will be getting his Masters in Composition at UNCG. We had a goodbye brunch for them at our place a few weeks ago, and another goodbye brunch with our church family this past weekend. Yesterday evening we helped them pack up the truck.

And that’s it. Now–as in, this morning–they are going to get into their vehicles with all their stuff (as well as our furry and cruel band manager) and actually drive away. In fact, at this time of the morning they are probably already outside the city limits of Chicago, heading South and zooming off into this new phase of their lives.

And the only reason I’m not burying my head in the sand in despair is because I know God has a plan . . . that his plan is GOOD . . . and that he will meet all of our needs.

We will try to keep both our friendship and Thornfield going from a distance, share our lives and songwriting, engage in road trips for the occasional gig, and hopefully record another album down the road. But the reality is–it’s not going to be the same. I know I have a lot of tears ahead of me, and there’s nothing to be done except cry them, and walk through the pain of my loss.

I take so much comfort in the words of the hymn “Be still my soul” that say:

Be still, my soul: the Lord is on thy side,
Bear patiently the cross of grief and pain.
Leave to thy God to order and provide,
In every change He, faithful, will remain.
Be still, my soul: thy best, thy heavenly Friend,
Through thorny ways leads to a joyful end.

And especially close to my heart is this verse:

Be still my soul: when dearest friends depart,
And all is darkened in the vale of tears,
Then shalt thou better know his love, his heart,
Who comes to soothe thy sorrow and thy fears.
Be still my soul: thy Jesus can repay
From his own fullness all he takes away.

I love you guys, Carrie and Eric.

Drive safely, sweet friends, and I pray that after a few years, somehow, we will end up in the same city so that we can share our lives again in this way that has been so, so precious to me.

29 Weeks

How far along: 29 weeks, completed 7/24/2012.

Weight gain: I had my appointment with the midwives on Monday, and the new gain is: 3 lbs! 147 up from my 144 last month. Total pregnancy gain is now 14 lbs.

Clothes: After my trip to Plato’s the other week, I feel pretty darn set.

Purchases: Nothin’ new.

Body: The midwife went over my ultrasound & blood test results from the previous Monday, and all is good! My hemoglobin is apparently awesome (whatever that means), and there’s no trace of anemia in sight. My vitamin D levels are strong. And little Alice is in the 44th percentile for size (“middle of the road” as my midwife put it), which is hopefully a sign that I WON’T be pushing out gigantobaby, but moderababy.

The belly disappearing act . . . well, I’ll just let this image speak for itself.

Heh heh.

And I almost forgot to mention–about a week ago, my husband noticed a very faint line descending from my belly button. It’s called the “linea nigra,” and Wikipedia tells me that it shows up “due to increased melanocyte-stimulating hormone made by the placenta.”

Whoop-de-doo.

It’s not too visible yet–in fact, I can barely make it out depending on the lighting. It’s a very faint pale color just a shade different than my skin tone, but it will probably darken over time. Then, after Alice pops out, shazzam! It’s gone.

But I guess I’d better make friends with it in the meantime.

Sleep: Gut gut, ja.

Best moment(s) of the week: I’m not sure if this is “the best,” but our past two Bradley classes have been really great, and very practical. Pushing positions . . . comfort measures . . . prenatal massage (with my darling husband gets to practice on me–wheee!) . . .

It’s weird thinking about the labor and delivery process ahead, because though I totally trust my husband to be there for me and do his darnedest to give me what I need, alleviate my suffering however he can, and stay attentive to how I’m doing for hours on end, I feel a sense of guilt about this. Being the labor coach doesn’t exactly sound like fun. Catering to my every whim? That just seems like a pain in the badonkadonk.

I think I need to pray about this and reach a place where I’m willing to let go and accept the fact that he is going to have to serve me. Intensely. For who knows how many hours or days. And I’m just going to have to let him. And not feel guilty that I’m putting him through the wringer.

He’s not at all thinking along these lines–he is ready. But accepting the fact that I’m going to be so weak, so dependent on his support and his encouragement–I find this frightening. Not because I think he’ll let me down, but because I’m not used to letting go of my self-sufficiency to that degree.

Oh, and speaking of good moments, since my parents were in town for our CD release concert (which I will write about soon!), my dad got to feel Alice move and thump a little, though she didn’t go as wild as she had with my mom the previous weekend.

Movement: What a sweetie–she was kicking back hardcore when we were trying to listen to her heartbeat on Monday. She definitely doesn’t like whatever light thingy shines in when they use the Doppler baby heart monitor.

Food cravings/aversions: Smoothies! I like ’em–a lot. Some frozen berries, a banana, some yogurt, some almond milk–bliss.

Symptoms: I’m feeling pretty fortunate in this area–besides starting to feel really tired again, overheating easily, and struggling more and more to turn myself over in bed without causing a mattress earthquake of epic proportions, I feel really good. This part of pregnancy is so much easier than the early part, when I wasn’t showing yet but felt bloated all the time (ugh). I will take this part ANY DAY over the bloated phase–any day!

Emotions: I’ve felt great, except for one disaster day (Wednesday of last week). First, I got home and pretty much fell apart for no reason as my husband and I tried to talk through an event we had coming up. After sobbing for a while, I recovered enough to jump into a packing project since our move is getting closer and closer. I built some boxes and started packing up vases and decor items from the living room and dining room area. As I moved a bunch of silk peonies, I caught the antenna of my brother-in-law John’s radio, which promptly crashed to the floor. And despite my husband’s valiant attempts to take it apart and fix it, that thing was determined to stay broken. Guys, I spent the rest of the evening crying about this radio. It didn’t matter that it was an accident, that John wasn’t upset, or that we could easily buy another for him (and did)–I felt horrible. Make that horribly horrible. My deepest desire was that someone would walk up behind me and knock me out so that the day could just. be. over.

I crawled my sorry butt into bed at 8:30 and sank into blissful oblivion.

Thus endeth my tale of misery.

Possible explanations include: hormones. And something our friend Jon theorized about–de-nesting. I’m packing and taking apart a living space during a period in which my instincts are crying out to nest. This makes total sense. Hormones + de-nesting = crazy lady. Children, please don’t try this at home.

Thankfully, other than that one evening, I’ve felt fine, dandy, and generally peaceful. Of course, there have been tears related to Eric and Carrie’s moving away (more about that tomorrow . . .), but we can’t go blaming that on tiny Alice.

Hopes and dreams: I’m eager to get past the de-nesting and into the nesting.

What I miss: Walking up stairs without feeling like a limping hippopotamus.

What I’m looking forward to: The last-minute baby shower that my extended family is throwing for me in Wisconsin this weekend–and my sister Erica is coming! We are road tripping out Friday morning and I can’t wait to get some quality time with her, and to introduce her to the kicks and jabs of her niece Alice.

I didn’t think I was going to be able to see Erica again until Christmas since her move to Arizona is imminent, but she decided at the last minute to put on her hardcore road-tripping helmet, and it’s happening. Hallelujah.

Husband update:  This guy is the sweetest, sweetest, sweetest. I can’t even tell you the ways that he shows me love constantly, but I’ll give one example. The past two Sundays, I’ve been so tired after church that I’ve had to stop for a nap. Instead of waiting for me to get my motor back up and running, he’s taken it upon himself to get our grocery shopping for the week by himself, in the heat, while I slept.

Seeing such a model of Christ-like servanthood in him (and being the direct recipient of it) is so . . . humbling. Inspiring. And I pray that I can and will do the same for him–go out of my way for his happiness every single day.

I love you, baby!