Hoping

I'm so sorry if you've been checking this blog every day for the past few weeks, only to see the same grainy picture posted there that was there the day before! If I haven't been working, I've been a couch tumor, nestled uselessly and taking up space. Not exhausted in the oh-my-word-I'm-coming-down-with-something-awful kind of way I had imagined, just supremely unmotivated. And incapable of cooking meals.

Wednesday marks 12 weeks!! Recently I was encouraging a friend not to write off hope in an area in her life...and I realize that I need not write off hope. In the past two or three weeks I've been starting to actually dream (like hope-dream, not sleep-dream) about what and who this child will become. I'm in awe that the Lord is knitting him or her together in a deep, dark place. I'm in awe that He's breathing life into something that before the last few months did not exist on this planet. I'm fascinated that whatever I do, wherever I go, there's this little person coming along with me, who will have their own opinions, personality, looks, dreams, ambitions, struggles, hopes...things that I'll have some say in, and others that only the Lord can shape.

I want to start thinking about decorating a room...but is it too soon? I know the next several months will fly. The weather will be warm, and suddenly, the leaves will fall and the wind will bite, and it'll be time. We're going to pull up the carpet in the guest room and have someone come to finish the hardwood lying underneath. I want a beautiful rag rug on that floor. We found a "mini" crib that comes in smaller dimensions and will be perfect for a smaller room, and will later convert into a twin bed.

Our last baby I had started to call mon petit oiseau - French for "my little bird" (it's pronounced "moan" - kind of without the "n," though - "puh-TEET wa-ZOE"). When that little oiseau flew home...and took a part of my heart with it...that's when I started calling him or her Glory Baby. Somehow, I've felt granted permission (??) to call this little one "my little bird" again. I almost feel guilty. I still grieve the one we'll only meet in heaven. I still kind of keep track of the weeks - I'd be nearly 27 - and July 24th will be a bit of a hard day.

Fear is so easy and comfortable to wear. It's a semblance of control. I do fear losing this one. I see it all too often - 16, 20, 22-week pregnancies that were going fine and suddenly end. Babies born with one itty-bitty little thing wrong - one little thing you wouldn't even think would really matter - that changes things forever. Gives them only moments to meet their parents before passing into the arms of Heaven. I pray for every organ as it forms, that it'll end up in the right place, that the heart vessels and valves will end up in the right position. Holes will be placed where there need to be holes, no holes where there shouldn't be holes! That there is a brain and not just a stem. Pairs of chromosomes instead of triples. Oh my word, I know too much!!!

And I just have to keep surrendering to God's goodness, sovereignty and control. This child is such a gift, whom I already fiercely love. I also pray for a heart that will hide God's Word inside...a mind that is fully stayed on Him...lips that speak praise and encouragement...ears that will be available to listen...hands that will serve...feet that will have the courage to go...

I cannot write off the possibility that these things will be. Each day, I acknowledge that possibility a little more. Thank you for praying for me and Matt and mon petit oiseau...pray that when he or she does spread his or her wings to fly, it's into this big world, to fulfill a Plan larger than I can hope or imagine!