Fruitful Family: Bananas, Bursts, and Beholding
As I sit in a sleepy stupor, at the end of an upside down day, in slight desperation I type the following words. After scrolling the empty chasm of mostly substance-less Facebook newsfeeds, my head feels just as empty and uninspired. Yet, the challenge of writing in that state intrigues me beyond the heavy blankets of exhaustion.
This day began at the midnight of yesterday and goes to the midnight of tonight, 16 hours at work with an 8 hour break in between to sleep and be a wife for a while.
So as I consider what to say, and just how can I share this journey in a way that doesn't isolate the world of people inundated or bored with listening to pregnant women and their long-winded experiences or opinions or stories. In some ways, I want to convey that this girl writing is the same one that once inspired people by stories that included such things as sleeping under bridges, or breaking toenails off by climbing mountains barefoot, or traveling without plans in one of the most uncomfortable-places-to-be-spontaneous, or whatever. But I have to admit, in the current state of affairs, those things seem quite trivial to that which approaches presently. And to not share the journey and live only out of past glories, would be entirely contrary to my nature.
So let me peel down a couple layers of my banana sized baby experience for ya.
Long story short, the latest pebble in the path was a doctor-patient misunderstanding about the ultrasound appointment. That's the one where we get to see for the first time the miraculous body growing inside mine...and watch it jiggle when I laugh and so forth. We showed up with both mothers only to be told that "next time we'll do the ultrasound" meant "next time I'll write an order for the ultrasound that you will then schedule in a different location." Whatever the matter, I was upset, but not upset enough to have long lasting self-pity, for our circumstances are pretty accommodating otherwise. We were then enabled to watch the incredible intimacy of God's interworking details and a preliminary ultrasound opened up (another long story short). The next thing we knew, a couple days later, we and both our mothers (including the 5 hours away momma) along with a room full of friendly volunteers and a friend, crowded into the pregnancy center and through the less developed technology watched the little pieces and parts of our fully developed babe, move around in the haven of my inward parts.
The heart beating, the blurry images of hands, the shadows of each rib and vertebrae, the tapping foot and my favorite, watching the rollercoaster ride as I giggled and watched our babe's world get absolutely rocked. As Corey and I gripped one another's hands while we saw the outlined form of our child for the first time, looking around the room at both expectant-grandmothers and the other friendly faces, I felt a rush of joy in the approaching motherhood. The essence of community.
The actual ultrasound will be two days from now. And we have no plans to make secret the gender or the name to our fellow community. When people toss the "aw, you should be surprised" remark, I kindly and stubbornly remind them that the day of delivery in itself contains enough surprises for a first-time mother; seeing a life emerge from her own body, a life that is separate from her own. Now that, is a surprise to behold.
Movement.
It becomes more and more frequent now that I know what I'm feeling for. I once read early movement described as a gentle sensation of a popcorn bursting inside. And though there may have been times before this, I like to look at the first acknowledgement of that movement when Corey had his hand on me and we swore we both felt the same sort of "fluttery bump" from my belly, that may well have been different from digestion's impulses. The definable and knowable time was during a zealous speech I delivered to some friends about the essence of marriage, and in the midst of my speech, I was wonderfully interrupted by what felt like a double fist raised in silent sort of 'agreed exclamation', of "yeah, THAT'S MY mommy!" if you can picture it.
Now I often feel these gentle popcorn bursts throughout the day and night. I am reminded and thankful for the blessed and healthy baby growing experience so far. The other day, while in search of specific clothing articles to accommodate the ever expanding sections of body, in my overwhelmed-I-don't-like-shopping-very-much-state, Corey swooped in with his positive mind to remind me to enjoy this time.
I all to often want to rush the experience and get to the part where we're not just dog sitting my parents awesome cuddly Malti Tzu for the month of February (which has rocked our world by the way), but to the part where I'm nurturing the physical manifestation, the embodiment of our love, in form of nursing babe. But I have to admit, this little cutie is sure good practice for the time being:
There are also some wild and unconventional plans we are tossing around for the post-June, post-Marquette portion of our lives. Where we start at this world fresh again, as broke travelers with flexible attitudes to fit into any sort of odd circumstance or lifestyle change...yet this time with the added bonus of a babe at our side. The mere fact that child raising doesn't have to be done with white-picket-you-know-what's, and mortgages and such blah things...really excites me for our future.
Yet, I am slowly coming to behold the present. To experience the bursts of life in the stillness and in the quiet times. To appreciate the process of unpeeling the layers and depths to the fruitfulness of my family, both near and far. And thankful for the redundant use of the word "seasons" to convey all such matters.
This 'season' of my life is truly precious. So even when I sit with a head clogged with 16 hours of work, and a mundane winter that traps its participants inside with all its sub-zero chill, all it takes is a few minutes of realigning my perspective to enjoy it all pleasantly. Not in the way that I'm going to fill up Facebook newsfeeds with exclamation points and long winded aha! moments as I once had a habit of doing (and will potentially do in the future at some point.....seasons....), but in the quiet stable sort of pleasant satisfaction of enjoyment, I will sit and let my thoughts expand on a blog that perhaps a select few, apart from the #1 momma fans, may ever endure to the end. I'm coming to see the freedom in a world not based on future "do's" or proving oneself through glorified whatever's, but one that rests quietly, and simply, just enjoying the process,
the process of writing words that encapsulate life in all 'seasons',
the process of fruitfulness of my womb and expanding family,
the process of unpeeling layers of intricate realities and uncovering the sweetness of such things,
the process of subtle bursts of joy and recurring reminders of a life fully alive, though hidden it may be,
and there, quietly behold all of it, with satisfied peace.
For in the midst of heavy drab, it only takes lifting our eyes to see The Beauty.
M
This day began at the midnight of yesterday and goes to the midnight of tonight, 16 hours at work with an 8 hour break in between to sleep and be a wife for a while.
So as I consider what to say, and just how can I share this journey in a way that doesn't isolate the world of people inundated or bored with listening to pregnant women and their long-winded experiences or opinions or stories. In some ways, I want to convey that this girl writing is the same one that once inspired people by stories that included such things as sleeping under bridges, or breaking toenails off by climbing mountains barefoot, or traveling without plans in one of the most uncomfortable-places-to-be-spontaneous, or whatever. But I have to admit, in the current state of affairs, those things seem quite trivial to that which approaches presently. And to not share the journey and live only out of past glories, would be entirely contrary to my nature.
So let me peel down a couple layers of my banana sized baby experience for ya.
Long story short, the latest pebble in the path was a doctor-patient misunderstanding about the ultrasound appointment. That's the one where we get to see for the first time the miraculous body growing inside mine...and watch it jiggle when I laugh and so forth. We showed up with both mothers only to be told that "next time we'll do the ultrasound" meant "next time I'll write an order for the ultrasound that you will then schedule in a different location." Whatever the matter, I was upset, but not upset enough to have long lasting self-pity, for our circumstances are pretty accommodating otherwise. We were then enabled to watch the incredible intimacy of God's interworking details and a preliminary ultrasound opened up (another long story short). The next thing we knew, a couple days later, we and both our mothers (including the 5 hours away momma) along with a room full of friendly volunteers and a friend, crowded into the pregnancy center and through the less developed technology watched the little pieces and parts of our fully developed babe, move around in the haven of my inward parts.
The heart beating, the blurry images of hands, the shadows of each rib and vertebrae, the tapping foot and my favorite, watching the rollercoaster ride as I giggled and watched our babe's world get absolutely rocked. As Corey and I gripped one another's hands while we saw the outlined form of our child for the first time, looking around the room at both expectant-grandmothers and the other friendly faces, I felt a rush of joy in the approaching motherhood. The essence of community.
The actual ultrasound will be two days from now. And we have no plans to make secret the gender or the name to our fellow community. When people toss the "aw, you should be surprised" remark, I kindly and stubbornly remind them that the day of delivery in itself contains enough surprises for a first-time mother; seeing a life emerge from her own body, a life that is separate from her own. Now that, is a surprise to behold.
Movement.
It becomes more and more frequent now that I know what I'm feeling for. I once read early movement described as a gentle sensation of a popcorn bursting inside. And though there may have been times before this, I like to look at the first acknowledgement of that movement when Corey had his hand on me and we swore we both felt the same sort of "fluttery bump" from my belly, that may well have been different from digestion's impulses. The definable and knowable time was during a zealous speech I delivered to some friends about the essence of marriage, and in the midst of my speech, I was wonderfully interrupted by what felt like a double fist raised in silent sort of 'agreed exclamation', of "yeah, THAT'S MY mommy!" if you can picture it.
Now I often feel these gentle popcorn bursts throughout the day and night. I am reminded and thankful for the blessed and healthy baby growing experience so far. The other day, while in search of specific clothing articles to accommodate the ever expanding sections of body, in my overwhelmed-I-don't-like-shopping-very-much-state, Corey swooped in with his positive mind to remind me to enjoy this time.
I all to often want to rush the experience and get to the part where we're not just dog sitting my parents awesome cuddly Malti Tzu for the month of February (which has rocked our world by the way), but to the part where I'm nurturing the physical manifestation, the embodiment of our love, in form of nursing babe. But I have to admit, this little cutie is sure good practice for the time being:
There are also some wild and unconventional plans we are tossing around for the post-June, post-Marquette portion of our lives. Where we start at this world fresh again, as broke travelers with flexible attitudes to fit into any sort of odd circumstance or lifestyle change...yet this time with the added bonus of a babe at our side. The mere fact that child raising doesn't have to be done with white-picket-you-know-what's, and mortgages and such blah things...really excites me for our future.
Yet, I am slowly coming to behold the present. To experience the bursts of life in the stillness and in the quiet times. To appreciate the process of unpeeling the layers and depths to the fruitfulness of my family, both near and far. And thankful for the redundant use of the word "seasons" to convey all such matters.
This 'season' of my life is truly precious. So even when I sit with a head clogged with 16 hours of work, and a mundane winter that traps its participants inside with all its sub-zero chill, all it takes is a few minutes of realigning my perspective to enjoy it all pleasantly. Not in the way that I'm going to fill up Facebook newsfeeds with exclamation points and long winded aha! moments as I once had a habit of doing (and will potentially do in the future at some point.....seasons....), but in the quiet stable sort of pleasant satisfaction of enjoyment, I will sit and let my thoughts expand on a blog that perhaps a select few, apart from the #1 momma fans, may ever endure to the end. I'm coming to see the freedom in a world not based on future "do's" or proving oneself through glorified whatever's, but one that rests quietly, and simply, just enjoying the process,
the process of writing words that encapsulate life in all 'seasons',
the process of fruitfulness of my womb and expanding family,
the process of unpeeling layers of intricate realities and uncovering the sweetness of such things,
the process of subtle bursts of joy and recurring reminders of a life fully alive, though hidden it may be,
and there, quietly behold all of it, with satisfied peace.
For in the midst of heavy drab, it only takes lifting our eyes to see The Beauty.
M
Comments
Loving all three,
MomD