baby

Preggo Update

We are officially on the countdown. Tomorrow we hit the 39 week mark. Only one more to go. Maybe. And I am pleased to announce that I have finally crossed over into the land of excitement.

We went to the doctor yesterday for a sonogram and a check-in. While I was working yesterday morning and anticipating the idea of seeing her face, I became overcome with joy and excitement. As I laid on the sonographer’s table, I imagined a little face that would look exactly like the one we will behold in just a few more days. How lucky we are to get a sneak peek. The sonographer lubed my belly up and began rolling her wand around as we gazed at the screen. We saw her kidneys, her bladder, the umbilical cord. We heard the heartbeat and saw the blood flowing through the veins and arteries of the cord. We discovered that she is head down (locked and loaded) as I like to call it. She is estimated to weigh 7 lbs 11 oz, but that estimate can be off by a pound either direction. And then the sonographer rolled her wand on her face.

I would love to show it to you, but she doesn’t like having her picture taken. Her hands were covering her face.

Here is a side profile we got with her hands as the big blob in front. That is a beautiful eye though, isn’t it?

I’m beginning to think she might be a stinker. When we wanted to find out her gender, she didn’t cooperate by keeping her legs crossed, now when we’re dying to see her face, she decided to play peek-a-boo instead.

So the sonographer applied this vibrating buzzer to my belly to try to scare her, and when she finally moved her hand,we got a picture of her. However, my dreams of seeing a beautiful baby vanished. I can’t tell whether she looks more like an orangutan or Mike Jagger.

It’s the nose. And the lips. Some wise people I work with told me she’s all smushed in those tight quarters and it can’t be an accurate picture. So, tonight I stood before the bathroom mirror and I smushed my own nose to compare it with hers. Then I made my husband smush his nose. There we sat staring at each other with our noses smushed flat trying to decide whose nose she has. I’ve decided she has Mick Jagger’s.

Remember, we have no TV here. This is what people with no TV do.

But look at these older pictures. They were taken on the same day back in October.

: The pig-nose, receding chin baby

The nose doesn’t look the same in any of them. In fact, the baby doesn’t look the same in any of them. So basically, we won’t know what she looks like until she slides out and hollers. Still, I’m preparing myself to feed her lots of bananas and teach her to the words to “I Can’t Get No Satisfaction.”

When we saw the doctor yesterday, we were pleasantly surprised to discover I am dilated 2-3 cm. He said it could be any day now.

And so we wait to meet our little girl.

And she’ll be beautiful.

My dream

Upcoming monumental events cause me a bit of angst, anxiety, and apprehension.

For example, each August I methodically prepare to meet a new group of second graders. I hang posters, write out name tags, copy wonderfully engaging papers, plan ice breaking activities, and decorate my classroom door all in eager anticipation.

It seems that no matter how long I’ve been teaching, every August I still get nervous. With those nerves come dreams. My anxiety permeates my subconscious. It never fails, that my dreams are unpleasant. No matter how prepared I am in the real world, in dreamland I am usually very unprepared for the first day of school. My papers are not copied, the children are rowdy, no one knows which seat belongs to them, I’m late to class, or simply have no control over the students. After a dream like the aforementioned, I usually wake up, mop my brow, and expel a big “Whew, glad that was only a dream.” And then the first day of school comes off without a hitch.

Considering my past, I’ve been a little concerned as to why I’ve only dreamed about my baby once, and I haven’t dreamed about the labor or birth of my baby yet. I mean, it’s not as if this is not an upcoming monumental event! Or it’s not as if I’m not experiencing some angst, anxiety, and apprehension. By now I should be riddled with night terrors. But I’m not.

I woke up this morning with a smile. Why? Because she visited me in my dream, and it wasn’t a horrific labor that caused me to sit up with sweat gluing my gown to my back. Nor was she sick or crying. She was sleeping, and I walked into her nursery and there she was lying on her stomach (yes I know, she should be one her back).

She was a tiny little thing sleeping peacefully. I reached down into her crib and placed my hand on her back to rub her gently. She awoke. Not the sleepy-eyed, grumpy kind of awakening, but rather a “yea, my mommy’s here!” kind of awakening. You know how weird dreams can be, so although her body was small, she was much older and developmentally capable of more. She sat on her knees with her arms outstretched. I picked her up, but I couldn’t see her face. Her hair was brown and mussed and it grew down into a point on her forehead, kind of like Dracula needing a haircut in the worst way. I remember wanting to see her face so badly, wondering what she looked like. I was seeing her for the first time. I reached my forefinger towards her hair and swept it to the left out of her eyes. And there she was. She wasn’t anything spectacular or breathtaking to behold. She was a baby. My baby. A baby I’ve never seen before until last night.

She had small brown eyes, and chubby cheeks, and a pudgy little nose. And when she smiled, two little bottom teeth appeared. She was happy and energetic and glad to see me. It was as if she’d been waiting to see me as long as I’ve been waiting to see her. But what made the dream so realistic was the fact that her nose was dirty, and her eyes were sleep-filled. Little dried sleepies rested in the corner of her eyes, and her nose had run in the night and she had dried crusties on the edge of her nostrils.

Then I carried her to the living room and handed her to her daddy because I was late for work. My house filled with people, strangers that I didn’t know. I was upset because no one had woken me for work, and my face scrub was missing out of my shower, and someone had rummaged through all my cabinets and nothing was where is was supposed to be. Then I was running a race on the highway. You know how weird dreams can be.

I wanted to write my baby dream down however, because I am clinging to that image in my mind. As the hours pass, it’s vanishing, ever so slowly, because that’s what a dream will do. There will be a fading, and then a fragment here and there, until it’s forgotten completely.

We’re down to 11 days until her due date. On Thursday, I’m having a sonogram. There isn’t any concern, but the doctor would like to get a birth weight estimate and check my fluids. I think it’s just a way to get more money, but at least we’ll get to see her little face and I’m sure I’ll post the pictures.

And then, a few days after that, we’ll get to see her face for real. It won’t be long until we’ll stumble through the house in the dark, sweep her hair off her forehead, pick her up from her crib, clean her crusty nose and boogery eyes, smother her in kisses, tell her how glad we are to see her, and how much we love her.

It won’t be long.

hehe, haha

My present condition allowed me to find this a tad bit humorous.

Baby Girl in 3D

I usually find myself most uninterested when pregnant women start pulling out a roll of black and white, grainy sonogram pictures showing off their upcoming bundle.

I’m usually the one holding up the picture, squinting, turning it to the left, the right, upside down, right side over while oohing and aahhing when in reality I can’t tell heads nor tails of the dern thing.

“Oh, is that her nose?”
“No that’s her toe.”
” Look at her cute chin.”
“Uh. That’s her elbow.”

Even on my own sonogram, after I’ve plopped myself on that table, I have to tell the sonographer to talk me through it.

So I know how you feel as I’m about to show you these pics of our little girl. Yes, girl. Nothing has changed. They still identified those three little lines that look kinda like a hamburger and said it’s a girl.

Out of the approximately 18 pictures we got, there is only a couple that really show her sweet face, and I’m dying to share them with you, even though you may have to squint. Even then I can’t promise that her eye might just look a little like her foot.

Meet Emma Kate (for now anyway). She has an absolute gigantic nose in this picture. But I’m sure its only the position of the camera, aren’t you? I don’t care. I can’t wait to kiss that big honker.

: yawning…….so sleepy

In this little picture, the arrow is pointing to her open mouth.

Her nose completely changed appearance, and I can’t help but say it, but she has my nose. In this picture anyway. J-Dub has this itty bitty nose which lacks those bulbous parts sticking on the side.

Those are her feet up there by her head. She has folded herself up like a taco.

The sonographer tried to get her to move around, but to no avail, at which she commented how she is not easily irritated, which makes me happy to know. I hope she is never easily irritated.

I am 25 weeks along today, and there’s only 15 more measly little old weeks to endure. The baby is weighing about 1.5 lbs (the weight of an average rutabaga….whatever that is) and is a little longer than a foot long sandwich from Subway.

So far, everything is going perfect. God has blessed us through this pregnancy thus far and we are believing He will see us all the way to the end and then help us every step of the way raising her as we desperately try not to mess her up. Too badly.

She is much loved already.

And just so you know, these are the first of many pictures to come.

Just wait until January!

50 Rules for Dads of Daughters

My friend Suzanne sent me a link.

Actually she sent it for me to share with J-Dub.

I shared it, and then I read it myself.

I loved it. I cried. But I’m a bit emotional these days with my little girl on the way. I couldn’t help but think of her and her daddy.

And then I can’t help but think of me and my own dad.

This was written by a fellow named Michael Mitchell who blogs at Lifetoheryears.com and stolen from a blog fromdatestodiapers.com

There some great stuff out there, folks. I hope you enjoy it.

1. Love her mom. Treat her mother with respect, honor, and a big heaping spoonful of public displays of affection. When she grows up, the odds are good she’ll fall in love with and marry someone who treats her much like you treated her mother. Good or bad, that’s just the way it is. I’d prefer good.

2. Always be there. Quality time doesn’t happen without quantity time. Hang out together for no other reason than just to be in each other’s presence. Be genuinely interested in the things that interest her. She needs her dad to be involved in her life at every stage. Don’t just sit idly by while she add years to her… add life to her years.

3. Save the day. She’ll grow up looking for a hero. It might as well be you. She’ll need you to come through for her over and over again throughout her life. Rise to the occasion. Red cape and blue tights optional.

4. Savor every moment you have together. Today she’s crawling around the house in diapers, tomorrow you’re handing her the keys to the car, and before you know it, you’re walking her down the aisle. Some day soon, hanging out with her old man won’t be the bees knees anymore. Life happens pretty fast. You better cherish it while you can.

5. Pray for her. Regularly. Passionately. Continually.

6. Buy her a glove and teach her to throw a baseball. Make her proud to throw like a girl… a girl with a wicked slider.

7. She will fight with her mother. Choose sides wisely.

8. Go ahead. Buy her those pearls.

9. Of course you look silly playing peek-a-boo. You should play anyway.

10. Enjoy the wonder of bath time.

11. There will come a day when she asks for a puppy. Don’t over think it. At least one time in her life, just say, “Yes.”

12. It’s never too early to start teaching her about money. She will still probably suck you dry as a teenager… and on her wedding day.

13. Make pancakes in the shape of her age for breakfast on her birthday. In a pinch, donuts with pink sprinkles and a candle will suffice.

14. Buy her a pair of Chucks as soon as she starts walking. She won’t always want to wear matching shoes with her old man.

15. Dance with her. Start when she’s a little girl or even when she’s a baby. Don’t wait ‘til her wedding day.

16. Take her fishing. She will probably squirm more than the worm on your hook. That’s OK.

17. Learn to say no. She may pitch a fit today, but someday you’ll both be glad you stuck to your guns.

18. Tell her she’s beautiful. Say it over and over again. Someday an animated movie or “beauty” magazine will try to convince her otherwise.

19. Teach her to change a flat. A tire without air need not be a major panic inducing event in her life. She’ll still call you crying the first time it happens.

20. Take her camping. Immerse her in the great outdoors. Watch her eyes fill with wonder the first time she sees the beauty of wide open spaces. Leave the iPod at home.

21. Let her hold the wheel. She will always remember when daddy let her drive.

22. She’s as smart as any boy. Make sure she knows that.

23. When she learns to give kisses, she will want to plant them all over your face. Encourage this practice.

24. Knowing how to eat sunflower seeds correctly will not help her get into a good college. Teach her anyway.

25. Letting her ride on your shoulders is pure magic. Do it now while you have a strong back and she’s still tiny.

26. It is in her nature to make music. It’s up to you to introduce her to the joy of socks on a wooden floor.

27. If there’s a splash park near your home, take her there often. She will be drawn to the water like a duck to a puddle.

28. She will eagerly await your return home from work in the evenings. Don’t be late.

29. If her mom enrolls her in swim lessons, make sure you get in the pool too. Don’t be intimidated if there are no other dads there. It’s their loss.

30. Never miss her birthday. In ten years she won’t remember the present you gave her. She will remember if you weren’t there.

31. Teach her to roller skate. Watch her confidence soar.

32. Let her roll around in the grass. It’s good for her soul. It’s not bad for yours either.

33. Take her swimsuit shopping. Don’t be afraid to veto some of her choices, but resist the urge to buy her full-body beach pajamas.

34. Somewhere between the time she turns three and her sixth birthday, the odds are good that she will ask you to marry her. Let her down gently.

35. She’ll probably want to crawl in bed with you after a nightmare. This is a good thing.

36. Few things in life are more comforting to a crying little girl than her father’s hand. Never forget this.

37. Introduce her to the swings at your local park. She’ll squeal for you to push her higher and faster. Her definition of “higher and faster” is probably not the same as yours. Keep that in mind.

38. When she’s a bit older, your definition of higher and faster will be a lot closer to hers. When that day comes, go ahead… give it all you’ve got.

39. Holding her upside down by the legs while she giggles and screams uncontrollably is great for your biceps. WARNING: She has no concept of muscle fatigue.

40. She might ask you to buy her a pony on her birthday. Unless you live on a farm, do not buy her a pony on her birthday. It’s OK to rent one though.

41. Take it easy on the presents for her birthday and Christmas. Instead, give her the gift of experiences you can share together.

42. Let her know she can always come home. No matter what.

43. Remember, just like a butterfly, she too will spread her wings and fly some day. Enjoy her caterpillar years.

44. Write her a handwritten letter every year on her birthday. Give them to her when she goes off to college, becomes a mother herself, or when you think she needs them most.

45. Learn to trust her. Gradually give her more freedom as she gets older. She will rise to the expectations you set for her.

46. When in doubt, trust your heart. She already does.

47. When your teenage daughter is upset, learning when to engage and when to back off will add years to YOUR life. If you succeed in doing this, tell me how.

48. Ice cream covers over a multitude of sins. Know her favorite flavor.

49. This day is coming soon. There’s nothing you can do to be ready for it. The sooner you accept this fact, the easier it will be.

50. Today she’s walking down the driveway to get on the school bus. Tomorrow she’s going off to college. Don’t blink.

My life. My thoughts. My faith. My family

Well today is Sunday, and those who may have been looking for it, might have missed my “in memory of my dad story” yesterday. I’ve been a little busy, which is no excuse.

I’ve been:

sleeping (today anyway)
trying to revive a dead front yard from a serious drought
cleaning out a junk room of boxes and inessentials to make room for a crib and diapers
scouring baby books and the internet for the perfect little girl name
guarding my red toenails from pecking chickens
gathering 5-6 fresh eggs a day
enjoying the beautiful fall days
teaching a class of 22 darling second graders
cleaning, washing, drying, sweeping, mopping
attempting to bring my husband back to reality from our recent visit to Colorado
Oh, and building a baby

I went to Lubbock, Texas this weekend to listen to one of my most beloved Bible teachers, Beth Moore. Some church friends and I spent the day knee deep in the book of Luke and Acts and reveling in the reminder of how awesome our God is, and I wasn’t able to get to a computer to post my dad’s story and did not have the wherewithall to post earlier. I’m sorry, but I’ll make it up shortly.

While my dad was living, he spent some time writing commentaries and sports for his hometown newspapers, The Tahlequah Times. My sister brought me a basketful of old newspaper clippings, so each Saturday I post one. I will post them until I run out of stories or until I run out of Saturdays, whichever comes first. I chose Saturday because that was the day he died. A Saturday afternoon. Just a normal, unsuspecting one. Much like this day 10 years ago when our country was attacked. Much like the day when Jesus will return. Normal. Unsuspecting.

I had spoken with him back and forth on his facebook wall that morning, and was planning a visit in July for a family reunion. That afternoon, I was home alone standing in my kitchen with a cardboard box and newspaper pages scattered on the kitchen counters, wrapping drinking glasses in preparation for a move to a new place when my phone rang. I almost didn’t answer it because the number was bizarre. I’m glad I did. It was my dad’s friend, Jane, on the other end tearfully explaining to me “we’ve lost your daddy.” I had to call my sister, my mom, and my brother. It was a difficult day, as is days that come and go still. My dad has been gone a little over six months and my goodness, so much has happened in that short time. I miss him, and I so wish he was here to share what is happening in my life now.

When I first shared with my family that Jason and I would be having a baby, both my mom and my sister remarked how they wished my dad was here. How he would have loved to know the baby. And it made me sad for a split second. But then I remembered something my friend had told me and I had an epiphany. We all come from different backgrounds and beliefs and sometimes we get stuck thinking ours is “right” and everyone else is wrong. I have a very dear friend who, when speaking about babies, she would often mention “spirit children” in heaven waiting for a body in order to come to earth. I had never heard of this from anyone before. Although it was her belief, it was one I didn’t share. I hadn’t been taught this idea, I hadn’t ever read about this idea, so I dismissed it, quite frankly, as cuckoo. Until the day I needed desperately to believe that.

I believe that our spirits live forever. When we die our spirits live on, either in heaven or in hell. And it came to me clearly, if our spirits live forever after our earthly body is gone, then how narrow-minded of me to think our spirits only begin when our human bodies form in the womb. Of course they exist before our earthly body and of course they exist after our earthly body. Of course there are “spirit children”. And of course my dad’s spirit, who lives in heaven, and my baby’s spirit who lived in heaven, have met one another. My dad is not missing out on knowing my baby. I believe they have met one another. In the heavenly realm of which we know very little about, they’ve become acquainted. They are well acquainted.

I let my imagination run wild with this idea. Not only have they met, and shook hands, and said hello, I’m your grandpa, but perhaps they’ve played together. Maybe he’s already given her horsey back rides and swung her around in his arms. Could it be possible that he’s sat her in his lap, hugged her close, kissed her cheek and stroked her hair. Have they’ve splashed in crystal seas digging for the perfect skipping rocks ? Have they held hands and played ring around the rosey on a golden street?
Is it unfathomable?
Not to me.
Is it cuckoo?
Not to me. Not anymore.

I enjoy Saturdays with my dad’s stories because I get to hear from him again. I’ve never read all his stories, there were only a select few that he mailed to me. I’m so glad I have them, and I’m honored to share them. Granted, some are better than others, as are all of mine as well. But we live on with our words. We can impact people years later with our writings. Last week his story told about a blue and white seersucker jacket he had that served him well for both weddings and funerals. My sister commented and said I should have posted this picture of him wearing that jacket.

That’s us in 1993. I’m the one with the big hair. Take your hands off your gaping mouths. Yes, that hair is real. Yes, I left the house with hair that big. Yes, that hair was sort-of in style. And that’s my handsome dad standing proudly beside me. He was always proud of me, and told me often.

I thank God he was my dad. I thank God for the time we had together. I thank God He prepared a place for him. And for me. We will see him again. And we will laugh. And hug. And he will give me his sloppy kisses as he always did.

He loved much, and is loved and sorely missed by many.

Pics from the Reveal Partay!

This past Friday, some friends and loved ones joined us for a gender reveal party.

Some wore pink, thinking it would be a girl. Some wore blue, thinking it would be a boy.

Some wore black, thinking it would be…….uh, nevermind, I guess they hadn’t had time to do their laundry.

J-Dub and I were both decked out in blue. No doubt in my mind it was a boy. No doubt.

There were more folks dressed in blue than pink.

The survey from my blog predicted boy over girl.

We began with a little game of “What do the Old Wives Say?” where different old wives questions were thrown at us, and the majority of our answers revealed boy.

Boy, Boy, Boy.

The contents of this box would reveal the truth. Would it be blue or would it be pink?

The moment of truth arrived with hearts all a’flutter. Anticipation hung heavy in the air.

The florist was the one who received the sealed envelope. He was the one who first saw the ultrasound picture. He was the one who packaged the box. We were the ones to open it with the ones we love.

Pink and white balloons drifted out, screams and cheers lifted up, and tears flowed down. Happy tears of course.

It was a day of love, happiness, celebration.

Hugs.

Congratulations.

And smiles.

Lots and lots of smiles.

It’s A ……….

Good News!

I’m on top of the world. I’m just on top of this beautiful, dadgum world. It’s as if scales have fallen from my eyes and I see things in a new light.

In case you haven’t been following my life, first off, I’m pregnant. With my first child. At age 36. With this came a scary test that informed us that our baby was at an increased risk for Down’s Syndrome. A 1:75 possibility. I stewed and fretted and cried, then I prayed, and others prayed, and the Holy Spirit granted me a peace that passes all understanding.

Today, we had a consultation and an ultrasound that looked for certain “markers” of Down Syndrome that the baby may display. If any of these markers were found, it increased the risk for the disorder, and if they weren’t noted, it decreased it. Some markers they look for and measure are the thickness of the skin at the base of the neck, the length of the bones, the amount of fluid around the baby, the veins and arteries in the umbilical cord, certain spots in the heart, and others.

God is good, and if you don’t already know that, well, you need to. There were not any markers found! I praised Jesus out loud right there lying on that table. The absence of markers does not mean our baby does not have anything wrong with it, but it does mean that the chances went down 50%. So now the odds are about 1:150. And that sounds pretty dadgum good to me. We were offered an amniocentisis to determine 100% for a yes or no answer, but we declined. Our faith is in God, not in medicine. You know I’ve never been the “one”. I’ve never won the lottery, I’ve never been struck by lightening, and I know that I know that I know my baby is normal (as normal as can be expected with the parents it’s been given).

I am praising God to day for His goodness. His mercy. His grace. His gifts. He has given me something that I never dreamed I could ever need. And I’m thrilled to become a mother.

I’d like to believe that even if the test hadn’t turned out positively for us, I would still be praising God. I’m just so thankful and relieved I am not experiencing the other end of the spectrum right now. Praise the Lord with me today!

On a different note, during this ultrasound they were able to determine the sex of the child. I have some wonderful, caring, loving people who are throwing a reveal party for me. I had never heard of a reveal party before my principal approached me with the idea. It can be done several different ways, but generally speaking it works like this: the ultrasound technician puts the gender in an envelope keeping it a secret, even from the parents. People are invited over, and in some way the sex of the child is revealed to everyone during the party, including the parents!! Yes, you are reading that right. We do not even know the sex of our baby.

Our baby was VERY uncooperative today. It decided to stay sleep with it’s little legs crossed. The technician was getting frustrated, but she perservered. Finally she was able to get a good view. She told us to turn our heads from the screen, while she took the picture. It was then stuffed and sealed in an envelope and hand delivered to my principal by me. It was much harder than I ever imagined it would be driving home with that envelope in the car! But we didn’t peek. I do admit I held it to the light, but still couldn’t see anything!

Tomorrow we will be finding out whether we need a blue nursery or a pink one. I can hardly wait.

I wish you all could be there, but since I feel like you are all experiencing this with me, please join me in spirit and cast your vote.

The result will be announced tomorrow!

There comes a time in a blogger’s life, when she must decide if something is too personal to share. It’s easy to share chicken stories and recipes, possum deaths, and classroom funnies, but not so easy to tell others when you’re falling apart. Not for me anyway. There is an occurrence in my life and something on my heart that I want to write down. I want to be able to reflect back on this season. And I must decide. Do I want everyone who happens upon this blog to know my struggles? But then again, there may even be the wild chance that it might help someone else. Or even there might be someone who can help me. Who knows.

I’m a very private person really, although it may be hard to believe. A lot of the things I write are simply stories and day-to-day happenings that really are just for entertainment purposes and possibly posterity., I keep myself tightly guarded for the most part, but sometimes I find myself wanting to share my emotions. Today is one of those times. This leap leaves me wide open. Open to criticism, open to judgement, open to pity. Today I’m deciding to share something very personal and something that I’ve only shared with my closest loved ones. But I’m sharing it for a few reasons.

1) Prayer: It allows people to pray for me, which is all I’ve got.

2) Humility: It’s very humbling to admit when I’m in the valley. I don’t want to sin by being proud, and it is something I struggle with.

3) Support: By sharing, I hope to hear stories that will comfot and rest my heart.

4) Friends: I know I have enemies, but I like to believe I have friends too. I know that people care about me and I am overwhelmed by the love of friends and even strangers who I only know through this computer screen.

My pregnancy was unplanned and the shock of my life. It also has been a piece of cake so far. At times, I’ve even felt guilty when I see and know of pregnant women who are struggling with sickness, puking their guts up, hooked to IV’s, dehydrated because they can’t keep anything down. I know that God has granted me good health during this time.

I enjoy being pregnant. After I passed through the initial shock and the acceptance stage, I have discovered that being pregnant is an awesome experience. When people ask me how I am feeling, I tell them I feel great, but what I really want to say, but don’t for fear of sounding hokey is, “I feel honored”. And I do. This is truly an honor to be chosen to carry a baby. To know that I am working with God to create a miracle, if for only a short time. To look at the night sky, at the vast expanse of stars, aware that the planet I live on is a tiny mass in a small galaxy in a huge universe. And I, an insignificant, minute speck, have been chosen to carry this one little being, this little combination of me and my dear husband, to nurture it, and sustain it. Sappy, sappy, sappy, I know. But it’s true.

I am beginning to get a little more excited each week. My belly is starting to noticeably grow, and I love to lay on my back and press on my abdomen and feel that hard little ball of cells and organs, and imagine it slowly and miraculously developing into this being with fingers and toes and a little button nose whom I already absolutely adore. I can’t wait to meet him. Or her.

Yesterday, however, I received a call from the doctor’s office and it rattled me to the core. At my last appointment, I had an optional blood test done called an AFPTetra. It screens for certain abnormalities like Spina Bifida, Down’s Syndrome, and Trisomy 18, and tests to see if I’m a carrier of cystic fibrosis. All the screens came back negative, except one. Down’s Syndrome. This does NOT mean our sweet baby has Down’s Syndrome. It is only an indication that it is at an increased risk. I’m sitting at the “advanced maternal age” of 36, and based on that, it appears I have a 1:198 possibility it could have Down Syndrome. Based on the test, however, I have a 1:75 chance. This test has been known to worry and fret a lot of women, all for naught. It’s only an indicator of risk, not a confirmation. The test is notorious for false positives and more often than not, the baby is just fine. But even knowing all that, I experienced my first tearful, worrisome night as a mother. I cried, I fretted, I imagined, I planned, I prayed and prayed and prayed.

Next Thursday I will visit a genetic specialist who will give me a consultation and an ultrasound. The way I understand it, they will look for certain “markers” of Down Syndrome during the ultrasound. It also can not confirm the baby has it, only an amniocentisis can do that.

It’s an extremely scary, uncertain time for us all. My loved ones are praying and reassuring me that everything will be fine, and I desperately want to believe that. My heart, my hope, and my faith is shaken right now. But one thing I know: God is good, all the time. All good things come from Him. I know that this precious baby is fearfully and wonderfully made, knit together, with all his days ordained. I know that God will never give us more than we can bear. I know that this baby may not have been planned by Jason and I, but it was planned by Him, and is loved immensely already, no matter.

We will hold tight to our faith and not allow the devil to cause fear and panic into our hearts.

The scriptures I’ve been focusing on are:

Proverbs 3:5—Trust in the Lord with all thine heart, and lean not on your own understanding. In all thine ways, acknowledge Him, and He shall direct thy paths.

Isaiah 41:10—Do not fear for I am with you, do not be dismayed for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you. I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.

2 Timothy 1:7 For you have not been given a spirit of fear, but of power, love, and a sound mind.

Psalm 121—I lift up my eyes to the mountains—
where does my help come from?
² My help comes from the LORD,
the Maker of heaven and earth.

³ He will not let your foot slip—
he who watches over you will not slumber;
⁴ indeed, he who watches over Israel
will neither slumber nor sleep.

⁵ The LORD watches over you—
the LORD is your shade at your right hand;
⁶ the sun will not harm you by day,
nor the moon by night.

⁷ The LORD will keep you from all harm—
he will watch over your life;
⁸ the LORD will watch over your coming and going
both now and forevermore.

~Angel