nine

Within the first few months of finding out I was pregnant (not, in fact, stricken with the everlasting flu) I remember half jokingly telling the husband how I didn't understand why my body felt it necessary to put me through months of this... one would be plenty of pregnancy! Well, after having experienced the whole nine, I can safely say that my perspective has certainly shifted. Though we've yet to meet the little guy, the past months have been instrumental in teaching me some things that can only help as J and I move into this phase of parenting a little one.

I warn you now, this one is a little long-winded, but it's honestly more for me - as a reminder - than for anyone else.


Now on to it: The things I have learned through nine months of pregnancy...

Joy.
Every morning with my first graders always started off with our "keys to success" that we had memorized and would say together. One of them was "my attitude is my choice" and we memorized the verse in Thessalonians where it says to be joyful always, pray continually, and give thanks in all circumstances. It was about realizing that I'll never get this moment back, and I may not be able to control what's going on around me, but I CAN control my response and attitude. There were many mornings I remember feeling so sick that I didn't even want to get out of bed, and it was so easy to carry around this whiny attitude about the misery of pregnancy. Then we'd say our "keys" I would be forced into the realization that it really was no different than one of my first graders pouting because they didn't like what was in their lunchbox. I would have told that little whipper-snapper "You get food to eat for lunch... and breakfast too! And not only that, you get to eat it with your friends at a school you have the privilege of going to... so what is your attitude going to be? Because it's your choice!" I could just hear God giving me his own version of the spiel ... "You get to experience this miracle of new life... my creation in you... there are others who have prayed and prayed to experience what I've already blessed you with (even it does suck to feel like your going to throw up at the mere sight of broccoli). Your attitude is still your choice." So I made it my mission for those 20 weeks to wake up every morning and choose joy. And you know what? I found it. It was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do, but the more I practiced it, the more it became second nature... and the better I actually, physically felt. Joy (and phenergan) are good medicines.


Responsibility.
When I was about 17 weeks pregnant - for a plethora of reasons - we made the switch to using a midwife instead of an ob for all the prenatal care, postnatal care and delivery. One of the things that I found most strikingly different about their approach was the emphasis on my responsibility in all of this.
A touch of backstory... midwives will only deliver a baby in what they consider to be a "healthy, low risk pregnancy" so their goal is preventative care. They went to great lengths to help me learn about my role in all of this... about nutrition, herbs, natural medicine, and taking care of my body so it can do its job. One of those jobs being to grow and deliver a healthy baby.

The interesting thing, is that the more I learned and used the tools they gave me to give my body exactly what it needed, the more frustrated I would become when people would say "Oh, you are so lucky. In my pregnancy...." Don't get me wrong. I am SO grateful for the things that have gone well and can see God's fingerprints all over it. But to me, it's no different than someone coming over and saying "Oh, you're so lucky to have healthy vegetables growing in your backyard"... well yes I am. God designed an incredible system of plant life and blessed me with a bit of land, but reason I have healthy vegetables is because I put A LOT of work into that garden! I don't say any of that to downplay God's grace in healthy pregnancies, but to emphasize his amazing design. The more I've learned about how my body is designed to grow and deliver a baby the more I am in awe of the genius behind the whole thing - and the more responsibility I feel to go to whatever lengths necessary to treat my body well and protect it against unnecessary interventions.

I think it's tempting to look somewhere else - a doctor or hospital or nursing staff - to place all responsibility and trust for the health of me and my baby - and in an emergency situation, those entities are absolutely crucial - but primarily, I am the one responsible for a healthy pregnancy, birth, and baby. (And am blessed to have found some incredibly knowledgeable midwives as a resource!) I am the one who is responsible to educate myself as much as I possibly can to make sure that I'm making the absolute best and most informed choices possible. Which I haven't always done. Like last weekend when I made the horrific decision to eat Taco Bell at 10:30 pm. then woke up to the misery of swollen    e v e r y t h i n g. Thankfully, the midwives also have some great remedies for that, so I'm back to my normal pregnant size with a whole new motivation to not make self-deprecating dinner decisions. But in all seriousness, when at 40+ weeks I can say that I'm healthy, baby is healthy, and I physically feel great, it makes the difficult choices so worth it and makes me all the more amazed God's incredibly intelligent design.


Patience.
Which brings me to the whole 40+ weeks thing. I'm still learning this one in stages. This little guy has not been on our time-table from day one. Finding out I was pregnant was pretty big surprise. Not our timing, but certainly better than whatever our plan may have been. Then "according to ultrasound" 39 weeks came and I got excited, and the challenge was to have the patience and foresight to embrace the last days with my little family of just 2 1/2 (the half referring to Mocha, of course).

Then 40 weeks came and the challenge was to trust God's timing over a "guess date" on paper.

Then 41 weeks came and the challenge was not to let worry creep in... to trust that our baby is fine and my body knows when he's ready and to not meditate on the idea that I may just stay pregnant for the rest of my life.

Bonus: I actually had this dream - at a very, very low point - that I crossed the 42 week mark and I went into a hospital to be induced (my worst nightmare actually) and after being in the room for a while just waiting, the doctor walked in and told me he had bad news. He said there was actually no baby in there, I had just gained a lot of weight in my stomach and should probably start losing it. 

Then the 42 week mark began approaching and thoughts began to sneak in like "what if everything isn't okay and what if there's not enough fluid for him anymore" and I was tempted to doubt the genius of my body.

We went yesterday to actually check on those things specifically and as it turns out little guy is just fine, plenty of fluids, healthy placenta and all is well. Totally ready and "ripe" as the midwives would say, but in a perfectly healthy environment exactly where he is. And again, I'm left only with reasons to continue trusting the design of my body and waiting... And learning a thing or two about patience while I do.



And a great big Thank You with all my heart to those of you who have been patiently waiting alongside us... always ready with encouragement and never doubt. It means the world.

PS. I read this really great article on "post dates" and induction and wanted to share in case you may be interested.