At Home, Arlington, Massachusetts
Yesterday I had my first doctor’s appointment. I hate doctors and doctors’ offices, so when I first arrived I was quite suspicious. I don't like it when I feel like a doctor is looking down on me. Thankfully the nurse I saw was great. She was very upbeat and assertive, but not in a domineering way. And not fake. Trey said she did a lot of "girl talk" but I didn't pick up on it. I sat there and felt like she was my lifeline in all of this chaos. Pretty much all she did was tell me that everything I'm experiencing is completely normal, but it was what I needed. I am working on feeling grateful even throughout how sick I've been. Yesterday I came home from the doctors and completely crashed. I couldn't do anything – truly. Last night I threw up everything in my stomach. But apart from all of that, I find myself remembering how remarkable it is that I have been able to get pregnant pretty much right away. The first month I charted (and it was an incredibly bad attempt at it!), I conceived. I'm 32, I have numerous friends who have not been able to conceive, and many more friends who had to work at it for a couple of months, and here I am pregnant right off the bat. It definitely wasn't perfect timing. I was really counting on having to try for a couple of months - but it is such a good reminder that other people's advice is just that – other people's. People tend to view their own experiences as authoritative and because of it, I've lived for years in fear and anxiety due to certain people's skepticism about my ability to have children starting this late. But this has been one big reminder that everyone is there own – my story is my own and I will find out along the way what I am and am not capable of. I can hear what other people say, but I don't need to listen. I am so incredibly thankful to the Lord for this gift. Because that is what it is. It's bad timing and it's physical hell, but it is a precious, precious gift from him. He gave it to me and so I celebrate it and lay my anxiety to rest. ********************* I never thought there would be a day I missed my period. But morning sickness has made me miss my period.
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At Home, Arlington, Massachusetts Oh, my mother Eve, why did you bring this chaos into my body? I woke up this morning discouraged and sad, crying from being so overwhelmed with the physical reality that is procreation. And now I just feel this huge, gulfing grief as its full meaning and reality sinks into my consciousness. Things did not have to be these way. Things were not supposed to be this way. Eve, my sister and mother, why did you do this? The effects of your decision, of your sin, hurt in my body. They hurt every day. What should be rejoicing is not – it is the slow grind of nausea, and soreness, and exhaustion. Even the production of life is tainted by the pain which only death brings. In this world, for life to go on, life must be sacrificed. This is the consequence of my mother's actions. The female body is a place of chaos. Once Eve let it in, everything we have striven for is to reduce the effects of chaos within ourselves. Attempts to conceive, attempts not to conceive, attempts to live through childbirth, attempts to ease the pain of childbirth, attempts to understand it and to study – all of this has been woman's collective attempt to regain what was lost in Eden. Just as the apple entered into Eve's stomach, blood stream, and very physical reality, so too did the chaos of separation from God. Many people speak of the brokenness of sin, but let's not forget that brokenness looks and feels like a chaotic mess. A day is coming, though, when the chaotic work of women will be finished. Just as Eve’s digestion of the apple symbolizes the real reality of sin, so too does our digestion of the bread and blood symbolize for us the real reality of Christ’s redemption. Eating is central to our spiritual reality, for it is central to our very lives. Eating, holy and unholy, in the Biblical narrative reminds us of the physical parameters within which we understand both our fallenness and our redemption. Matthew 22:30 says, "For in the resurrection they neither marry nor are given in marriage, but are like angels in heaven." I used to find this passage overwhelmingly sad and I have cried many times to Trey about it. But it is only sad when read according to our post-Victorian romantic sensibilities. It's only sad when marriage is fundamentally about your own self-fulfillment. When it is read through the lens of Genesis 1-3, with an eye to the notion that marriage implies expansion, work, procreation – the establishment of something – then this pronouncement by Christ tells us, "It will be finished." The time of marriage as an act of creation will come to end, and with it, all of the chaos of this fallen reality. My painful work to produce life here on earth will be fulfilled and will be closed. I will not be subject to this chaotic reality for eternity – a change is coming. Eve, the Lord will redeem you. He will redeem your bloody and cursed decisions; he has already redeemed your eating. He will redeem the passing on of such evil through all generations even unto my day. You ruined everything; God will restore it. And I very much look to that day with anticipation. At Home, Arlington, Massachusetts
No one could have explained to me the realities of pregnancy before I actually fell victim to it. I feel like shit. Jesus, please aid me. I am calling out to you! Please give me some relief. I am weak and wasted and it's only been one week. I don't know how to cope with this for another six weeks. Please hold me in your bosom and give me rest. Please touch my body with your healing – restore my energy, ease my pain, soften this blow so that I might faithfully do the work you have given me to do. Amen. The Red Farm House, Dresden, Maine
PREGNANCY SUCKS!!! I feel like I am dying and have been for a week. Every day I think, "I should start feeling better soon," because my mind only naturally knows how to think in terms of NORMAL illness, and then I have the horrible realization that, no, I am going to feel this way for a minimum of six more weeks. My boobs hurt, I feel nauseous all the time, I don't want to eat anything, when I do eat I get bloated, when I don't eat I get bloated, eggs make me want to puke, I am exhausted more than I ever have been in life, and I am at my wits ends as to how I am going to work two part time jobs and write thesis and take my final class. That is a lot to try to do just in normal, real life. Thinking about trying to do all this pregnant has put me into tears twice already in the last five days. And none of this even gets at trying to be there for my husband, family, and friends. Trey has been a champ. He's taken care of me and run around to do random things for me. I just wish I could stop belching in his face every time I open my mouth. He is for sure enjoying all of this a lot more than I am so far. I think he's already got the pregnancy glows – I just want to curl up into a ball and survive. When I am able to come above surface, I still don't have any glowy feelings. I worry about how I'm going to have the energy to get everything done and then I worry about my worrying – I don't want this baby to come into the world through a mom who is a stressed wreck. When I don't think about all of those things, my mind starts to wonder about the chances of my baby forming with problems. So many things are going on inside my body – how in the world does it not go wrong? How is it that so many babies do come out normal? We're at an Airbnb in Maine and, thankfully, it's been a good 36 hours to reset and recharge. I am starting to feel a little better – a little – and it doesn't totally feel like weeds all around me. We pretty much have just sat in bed and read for the majority of our time here and it's been wonderful. That and walk to the water to just sit on a rock in the sunshine and gaze. Two nights ago, I lay in bed and felt like I was truly at the end of my rope with this new physical reality. Everything felt horrible and I couldn't think of what to do to make it better. And then I remembered – God has always been the God who hears pregnant women. God created this chaos and ordained it – and he has been the intimate friend of Eve, Sarah, Leah and Rachel, Hannah, Mary, and so many others before me. Now, if ever, God is with me. I cried out to him. I didn't get instant relief in my body, but my soul was sweetened. All I can do is accept this reality and accept God's closeness to me in it as I suffer. Perhaps I will not be able to do everything I have on the agenda. Perhaps this is the end of my rope – the end of my plans, projects, and aspirations – but it is not the end of life. It is the beginning of life and that is something God smiles upon and holds me in. At Home, Arlington, Massachusetts
Well. I'm pregnant. After years of complaining, processing, and thinking about this, here it is. I'm not even sure I comprehend it. Out of nowhere, with no expectations, I'm pregnant. Last week, before I knew it to be a reality and only suspected it, I was peeking around the corner at awe. But this week, now that it is reality, all I feel is the physicality of it. My head hurts, my stomach is weird, and I have never ever felt more fatigued in my life. It's hard to think about awe when your body feels like it's crumpling from within. It is an awe-full thing. It ended up being so easy and so natural – not hard at all. Life taking its course in the most literal of meanings. And that is terrifying. Most of all, I simply find myself once again being scandalized and terrorized by the goodness of God demonstrated in it. God does not scare me when I believe him to be stern or demanding; but, I find him to be absolutely harrowing when he blesses me abundantly. How can such a great God deign to see me? Why would he do such a thing? It is his goodness that slaps the defiance off of my face and leaves me feeling naked and afraid. A God who withholds seems to give me space to raise a fist. A God who freely gives can only be met by my complete submission. For more than two years, I have believed that I was doomed. Maybe I still will be. Maybe I will miscarry and will get the woe I so often believe is rightfully mine. But right now, as new life begins to grow inside my tummy, I feel God laughing at me. Not mocking me, not spiting me, not even shaking his head at me. Just laughing for the joyful mirth of proving my countless wayward doubts wrong. Laughing as a Father laughs with joy over the blunders of his child. Laughing in love. The last three weeks have been some of the most chaotic and miserable of my life. But it feels as if a note has been struck, and its ringing in the air both creates and demands a silence within my heart. Be quiet. Be quiet now. The ripples of this moment will spread forth in waves, but this is a moment of silence. This is a moment to let life lie as it is, to stop, to let be. The Lord is good. And he sits on his throne in heaven. Amen. (Image by Percy French, "Mayo Mermaids.") National Quemoy University, Kinmen Island, Taiwan It is my birthday and I have only fully realized it because I wrote out the date just now. I am 32 years old and the past two weeks have been some of the most eye opening to my life that I've ever had. I am realizing that I am exactly what I never thought I would be – a successful, childless workaholic. I know I constantly worry about not doing something with my life and about having to give up my interests to have kids. But it has literally never crossed my mind what my life looks like to the outside world until this month. It started during a phone conversation with my mom. She asked me if we were trying to get pregnant and I was floored. I assumed that would just be obvious to everyone since I am turning 32. Even my mom didn't think it was an obvious thing. Then I actually heard myself speaking in some of my conversations with people – I was preparing to travel internationally for my job while also finishing up my school semester while considering applying to Harvard while publishing a paper while joining staff at a church. While living in the third most expensive city in the United States. I've been so focused on figuring out how to not lose my goals that I have been totally blind to my success in them and again, how I must look to the people around me. I have been addicted to success and work. I also have been legitimately trying to figure out how I am supposed to use my gifts and talents. Right now I have a choice before me – I cannot use all of my gifts and talents to their full extent without burning myself out. I cannot have a family while using all of my gifts and talents. So which ones will I use? I am 32 years old, have been working like a mad woman for four years, and am burnt out. It is time that I get my shit in order and stop trying to do it all and instead focus on how to live while using the gifts I care about the most and have the most peace about. I grew up hearing yuppies referred to in only negative terms. Good Christians had children early and valued their families more than anything else. I have had no paradigm for seeing myself as a thirty-something, successful urbanite because I was trying very very hard to not be selfish in my decisions and I grew up thinking that yuppies were simply the result of selfish, immature motivations. I constantly heard yuppies referred to as the result of never being willing to grow up and be an adult, and I have tried very hard to work against that. And yet, here I am. The very definition of a childless thirty-something-year-old woman who is doing well in her work. I am more the product of my society than I could ever have imagined myself being. I couldn't have imagined it because I never thought I valued the things yuppies value. But I do. And I do not think it is evil. I think it is cultural. And a result of trying really hard to use what's been given to me for God’s glory. I don't even know what I am trying to say with all of this other than I just am at this totally bizarre place in life in which I both know where I want to go and believe I have the talents to do it (if I let go of certain other things that I've held on to), and I can completely recognize that I am not the person I thought I was. In other words, I feel like I am waking up to who I am and I am becoming more aware of my abilities. I guess what's really going on is that my vision is focusing. So much of the excess work, of the excess baggage, of the excess stress needs to fall away. I don't need to stay in this whirlpool. I know what I want - my husband, my children, to teach and write, and community ministry. The rest has to go. And that can be the value of finding myself where I am at 32 – the focus that I haven't been able to find until this point. (Image by Nicolette Tomas.) At Home, Arlington, Massachusetts
May the Lord answer you in the day of trouble! May the name of the God of Jacob protect you! May he send you help from the sanctuary and give you support from Zion! May he remember all your offerings and regard with favor your burnt sacrifices! May he grant you your heart's desire and fulfill all your plans! May we shout for joy over your salvation, and in the name of our God set up our banners! May the Lord fulfill all your petitions! Now I know that the Lord saves his anointed; he will answer him from his holy heaven with the saving might of his right hand. Some trust in chariots and some in horses, but we trust in the name of the Lord our God. They collapse and fall, but we rise and stand upright. O Lord, save the king! May he answer us when we call. - Psalm 20 At Home, Arlington, Massachusetts
I am ok. And I am going to be ok. I have a lot to work through, but I am going to be ok. I need to repent of how I'm dealing with Trey. He really is sick. He was crying this morning when he woke up because he feels so bad and is frightened. This has just been really sucky timing for him to be so sick while I'm going through all of the emotions of a pregnancy “scare.” I love him and I need to try to be there for him. After all, he has been trying so hard to do the same for me. At Home, Arlington, Massachusetts
Today I sat on the couch and wept. I'm not even sure why I cried so much, but I guess I do know the long litany of problems that led to it. The past week has been pretty horrible. Trey has been sick and emotionally stressed and worried. Work is full of pressure as I find myself the go-between for coworkers struggling to communicate with each other. Ruthie and I are having dumb arguments over who knows what. But the real issue of the week has been my surprise not-pregnancy. By Saturday night I was pretty sure I was actually pregnant and thought I just needed to wait a little longer for the test to come out positive. I only sipped a little wine at dinner club and was so worried that people would figure it out. Ha. Little need for that. On Sunday I woke up and felt really nauseous. I had to sit through the panel I was on for Sunday School without throwing up – something that seemed pretty difficult not to do at certain moments. But, then after church my period started. I was so shocked. I quickly told Trey, and then went directly to missions prayer. I didn't think about it too hard. And I didn't think about it too hard on the drive home. Nor did I think about it too hard during Bible study with the Chinese students. After everyone left I thought about it a little bit, but I didn't want to think about it. So Trey and I ate prosciutto and drank beer and watched Inspector Morse. It felt OK, until I got ready for bed that night. I sat on the toilet and wept. Five days late. What a horrible amount of time. Was it a late period? Or was it an early miscarriage? Five days of growing excitement. Three false pregnancy tests. One morning of nausea. There is no way to know. Yesterday I woke up after a good night's sleep and felt like everything was totally ok. I had cried the night before, but it wasn't a big deal now. I got ready to go for a run and headed out the door. Usually running on the second day of my period isn't so bad. But I started to run and all I could feel was a strong, dull, silent pain on my right side. It wasn't cramps. It felt a little like a side stitch, except I wasn't out of breath and it felt more like something was tearing. I couldn't run and had to walk the whole way. But again, who knows? There's no real reason to go to the doctor. But just such a sad feeling. By mid afternoon today I felt distinctly depressed. It was hard to focus on work and everything felt heavy. My heart felt heavy, my body felt heavy, my eyes and brain felt heavy. Now of course Trey started to pay attention. As I sat on the couch with him, crying, I couldn't find the ability to express all of this. All I could say was just how sad I am. And how much I feel like I don't have any friends. After all, I find myself at almost thirty two years old and I wonder – do I have any friends? Sometimes I really don't know. I have enough community to find plenty of people to spend time with. But I don't have any friends who know me well enough, or talk to me frequently enough, to know when something is very wrong. I live in a world where if I were drowning I would have to yell for help, but we all know that drowning people don't yell. They die silently. And that is exactly the problem. Plenty of people want me to be involved with things. Plenty of people want to spend time with me. No one has made the effort to actually know me. No one knows where and how I struggle. I do not have friends here. When is the church going to realize that people are nomads? When is it going to realize that it cannot change the tides – people will be transient. We are caught up in tides that are larger than our life decisions. As such, the church needs to pastor like it would pastor wandering nomadic tribes. It needs to be aggressive in pursuing people. It cannot expect people to volunteer their hardships. The hardships of the laity must be sought out. And sometimes, all that would take is a simple question. "How has life been treating you?" I do not remember the last pastor who asked me this question. And so my nomadic life continues. (Image by Carolyn Hall Young, "Gratitude and Grief in Equal Measure.") At Home, Arlington, Massachusetts
Why is this so hard? A week ago I still wasn't sure if I really wanted children. Now I can't stop crying because my period started five days late. But I feel so sad. For no clear or explicable reason. I just feel a deep sadness – like something was abruptly lost that I wasn't really sure I even had, but wanted profoundly. |
About the ProjectThis is a very personal project. It tracks my growth and development as I journeyed toward motherhood over the recent years. It doesn't document every experience I had, and probably neglects my more joyful and peaceful moments in the frenzy of trying to communicate my fears, anxieties, and doubts. If you are a friend or loved one, please do not let anything you read here overshadow what you know of me personally. If you are a stranger, please remember that a living and flawed person stands behind these words. To all my guests here, please understand these are not political statements and try to extend me grace, even as I share my failures and foibles - I have repented of much of what I share. I don't share this journal as an exemplar, but rather out of the desire to share my hope that entrance to motherhood does not need to be a fearful thing - despite the very real fears I have fought against. Motherhood is simply a part of life and one through which I am discovering more of myself and my God. Archives
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