Little Man has his first loose tooth, make that two. I walked in on what you see above...that's YARN tied around his tooth...and I got a hilarious video of them tying the yarn to a doorknob and all the emotional angst that went into preparing to slam the door - and the drama that ensued...and they never slammed the door. Little Man told me in no uncertain terms that video was not going on the blog.
Unfortunately for you, I have to respect that. They've gone the "tie the tooth" route twice now. His tooth is still in place.
She always wakes up so happy...
Actually, sometimes she really does wake up happy, but somedays, not so much.
Little Man has some moves...breaking it down.
Little Bit is "in training." Note her hip hop bunny slippers. The girl likes to dance.
I've been in a funk. We're settled. The house is far from where I hope it'll be one day...but it's further along than it was when we began. I started painting over yellow paint in the entryway today. Woop woop. Honestly though, in my heart, I've been so ungrateful.
I keep looking back. And my speech reflects my ingratitude. Just yesterday someone made a comment about her children having fun playing hide and seek at our house because there were lots of fun places to hide. Do you know how I responded? "Well, Sister says if she hadn't seen the inside of our house, she'd think was haunted." I mean, seriously? That's my response. What the heck?
I think about our baby a lot. There are pregnant mamas everywhere I turn. And new babies. Lots and lots of new babies.
We visited a small group and they asked us to share about ourselves. And there were expectant mamas there and a new baby and this lump welled up in my throat and I wanted to sink deep, deep, deep into the couch and I knew I couldn't even talk or I'd burst into tears.
The Engineer shared...and last, he shared about losing our baby. And I burst into tears. I dug my thumb nails into my fingers and I tensed every muscle I could trying to control the tears and I couldn't. I felt so embarrassed.
I stand at my sink and I wash our dishes and the tears, they well up and spill over and I am so conscious of the fact that my belly isn't swollen with life. That our life today is not what I'd dreamed and imagined and hoped.
We've hired a guy to do some roof work for us. We got to talking. He shared with us that his wife is due with their 14th child this June.
I have two friends, both due in June, both with babies conceived out of wedlock. In my flesh, I struggle to understand - (I know this is harsh and it's in my heart and I have to confess and repent and I apologize if I offend you - because what is in my heart IS offensive) - why do they get this blessing and we don't?
And in my heart, in my soul, I know that God has a beautiful plan. That those babies are part of His perfect plan. That He has great plans for those friends and the lives they carry, the lives He is knitting together.
And then, I'm sick, too, of being sad. I'm not always sad, but it's a grief I carry almost everyday.
I look at these pictures in this post - and I'm like, "how can I be so ungrateful?" My children are precious. If this is God's sovereign will, it is enough. I feel that lump again...in my throat. Because I'm on the fence. My flesh and the Spirit battle. I'm a mess. And I am weak.
I confessed to the Lord that I'm hurt - that He has hurt me...and I have felt distant, knowing He is present, because He will never leave or forsake me. I'm the kid who struggles to keep distant from his parents because in their wisdom and love they withheld something he wanted.
And I think sorrow is okay - to see little ones and feel my heart prick - I'm okay with that. But the coldness in my heart..the distance that, in my flesh, I want from God - and yet I know I don't want distance from God. I love walking closely. I want to be near.
I struggle to trust. To trust He is good. I am afraid. Afraid He will take something else that is precious to me. And yet, again, I argue back at my flesh that His will is always, always, always best. That if I knew the alternative, I'd choose His will Every. Single. Time.
So my due date approaches. And when the children ask if I am pregnant, because they do. Often. The answer is "no." Followed with, "pray for His will for our family."
I know the way we handle this is so, so very important. Little eyes are watching. Sister's especially. And her heart is delicate and she aches, too.
Saturday is our due date. It will come and go and there will be no newborn to caress and nurse. And we are celebrating the girls' birthdays. On that day. Our due date. I have dreaded it. And now I am ready for it. I will write our baby a letter - because I process things by writing - I will write the baby a letter for me. And I pray God will bind up this broken heart. And that He will take away the bitterness. I don't want to be bitter. I can't minister to others going through this if I pierce them with the sharp edge of bitterness.
I'm tired of the reaction that often surfaces in my heart, that it's not fair. Because it isn't fair. The fair comes in November. And by my stupid internal system of weights and scales - in the pride of my heart - I can't believe I'm actually writing this - I think we've done it all right. That we deserve that baby. And that is so wrong. I know that is wrong. I know. My heart - me - I'm deeply sinful, corrupt in every part of my being.
I am ashamed of what's in my heart.
And it prompts me, pushes me to look at the Gospel and I hear a voice in my head scream "QUIT!!!" I'm so foolish to think I can earn God's favor and that His favor equals our baby. The Gospel is Jesus plus NOTHING. It's not me crossing off my little Christian list of do this and don't do thats and have a quiet time and go to church and earn His favor?! But I easily go there...again and again and again. I am so stinkin' prideful and vain. Reality is: He chose me in my sin, not of my own merit, but of His perfect will. It is a mystery. I wouldn't choose me.
There is nothing magical about June 16. But it feels like it's this big thing I've got to get through. I feel like the fog of this funk is lifting and on Saturday, I want it gone. And I pray the Lord will make me hunger and thirst for Him. I pray He will make me long to glorify Him. And perhaps the dread of is worse than the actual?
Reading back over this makes it sound like life is all doom and gloom and it's not. It's so not. But I've been down. And disgustingly ungrateful. And the waters of my heart run deep and are so polluted with sin and self-love.
I'm not depressed. I am ungrateful.
And my baby turns THREE this month! Three!!! She is my "nut-nut!" I'll ask her, "Are you my "nut-nut?" And she'll say, "No! You my nut-nut and I your nut-nut!" (Not sure from where the name came.)
It hit me, penetrated my heart - a few mornings ago - I know the death of our little one is not for naught. I know my heavenly Father is weaving a beautiful tapestry...that this suffering is not in vain. And I wondered if one day I'd get to look back and see how He used our babe to shape us - to move us - to change us. Maybe I'll never see that, or maybe I will. I see glimpses now. Regardless, though my flesh fails me - because it does and I default to the low road, He does not fail me. I love Him. Blessed be His name.
Thank you for bearing with me through this. I say that my heart is nasty not because of the struggle through grief and change, but because in this struggle, I am glimpsing how sinful and wretched my heart is. I know compared to what others are going through - this pales. But for me, it's pretty big right now. I don't want to waste the pain. And journaling and writing - it helps me plunge into the depths of my heart and mind. And when I see what is there, I am so very thankful for the Gospel. It is my only hope. Jesus saves. And He changes people. And salvation is not dependent upon my merit-upon anything I have or haven't done, but that the price, the debt I owe has been paid on my behalf. I couldn't pay it. I am so grateful for my heavenly Father. I pray He will be glorified in and through this, somehow, in the midst of my sin and self love.