Pregnancy & Body Image

I don't know many girls or women who don't have issues surrounding their body image. It could be as simple as wishing something was different to all-out hatred of one's body. We stand in front of the mirror every morning, our eyes immediately going to parts you don't like, then to the parts we do, making sure they'll make up for whatever we see as imperfect, kind of like a positive/negative balance. Then we also look at other women - whether they washed their hair or not, the wrinkles in their clothes, how much hairspray and makeup they use, their choice of footwear, etc. We could be trying to distract ourselves from our own bodies or maybe wanting to feel superior to others. I've noticed it doesn't take much - we're all taught to observe and draw conclusions, but once we take those conclusions to form solid opinions of other women is where it gets dangerous. Focusing on who a person really is is a hard task! To look past what we see and get to know the person is incredibly difficult, if not time consuming, but also very worth it.

When I was, let's say, a budding teenager, if you catch my drift, I was in the throws of junior high, suddenly placed into an environment where the brand of my jeans (wide-leg Generation X) and the color of my shoes (light brown Simple shoes) was a status symbol. There was no hope for "being yourself." Why be yourself when you can create a persona with how you dress and act? It was confusing and probably not the best way to learn who I really was, but it happened and having now healed from most of those wounds, I can say I made it. One thing has stuck with me, though, only because I couldn't realize it until now.

I always hoped I would get pregnant someday so I could have an excuse to be fat.

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I thought that. I desperately wanted a flat stomach, because, well that's what everyone said all girls my age should look like. It had nothing to do with the fact that I was skinny as a rail, a year-round athlete once in high school, and had the metabolism of, well, a teenager. You had to have the stomach, and I didn't. I found various ways of hiding or minimizing it, and life went on. But I always wanted to not worry how my stomach looked in tops or dresses.

Well, a surprising thing happened when I started showing my pregnancy: I learned to love my body for what it was. Yes, there was a part of me that enjoyed wearing whatever tops or dresses I wanted without worrying, but it was more than that. I realized in putting on a piece of clothing that was tighter and showed my pregnant belly, I forgot about how I looked. I was just simply pregnant. Early on, when regular clothes didn't fit but my belly was still small, I was worried if people would know that I'm pregnant or just think I'm overweight, which is a huge deal for me in my work.

But then I thought, "Who cares?!"

And that was the most freeing thought I've had since vowing to get pregnant so I could be fat.

About 6 weeks ago, one of my doctors put me on a steady taper of prednisone due to some inflammation and lab results. I always love and loathe prednisone: it makes you feel amazing but also makes you retain water, specifically in your face and upper back. I've taken prednisone off and on for about 12 years, so I always have to go through a sort of process when I start taking it. Will it make my face look fat again? I hope not this time! And ya know what? This time it did. My face is fat. But you know what else?

Who cares?!

I'm learning that loving myself means shaking off the weight that other's opinions have of me. It means being myself, unabashedly, and not worrying about what others are thinking. Just being me. I know I exercise and try to eat well. I'm healthy, and I don't need my appearance to validate that fact. I am who I am and hope you can appreciate that. I also hope I can learn to appreciate that about others, too! It's a two way street that I'm so thankful to walk now, but also once I'm not pregnant anymore.

Why I Won't Tell You Happy Birthday on Facebook

Let's be honest, when was the last time you received a piece of personal mail? Not a "handwritten" note from your insurance agent, or even a package from Amazon Prime, but an actual, personal note, letter, or gift? It's been awhile, huh?

I sort-of-fondly remember writing thank you notes after each birthday and Christmas to all the family and friends who gave gifts or came to my celebration. I'm not sure if it was the fact that I begrudged it so much growing up, but for some reason it's automatic for me to do so now. To not write a personal thank you note (on paper, in my handwriting, with a stamp) seemed like leaving the gift without any closure. Did I enjoy it? What am I using the money/gift for? Am I appreciative of it?

These days, I rarely write a note just to say hi. It seems that a text or email will do. Yes, it's more convenient and saves paper, but what are we losing when we gain our time back? Are we really communicating that the person is special, loved, and worthy of the time it takes to sit down and write a note?

My paternal grandmother (and grandfather) tried the whole computer thing. Last I checked, it was covered in a sheet, on a card table, in the corner of the dining room. I'm pretty sure they use it solely for Solitaire and to check the Salina, KS Obituaries online (with a shortcut on the desktop). Instead of sending emails, writing Facebook posts, or texting, they write letters and call as their main form of communication. Now, nothing's wrong with Facebook, it's just that you lose the personal touch when your words are reduced from handwriting to typeface. There's so much personality in my grandmother's handwriting - I save all her letters and love trying to "decode" certain words, knowing she took time to write it, and as she did, thought carefully about her choice of words.

(Even as I'm typing this, I'm wondering how different of a post it would be if I had to handwrite it. Sometimes, my thoughts come to too quickly to write them manually, but then it forces me to choose the words carefully, so maybe it is better?)

You're probably still wondering why I won't say Happy Birthday! to you on FB. Here's why:

I like receiving personal mail. Especially birthday cards.

It's funny to me that, for my 30th birthday last year, a good friend organized a "card shower" and sent out an email encouraging others to send me a card and gave my address. How many physical addresses do you know? Do you have them written down? (Another pause for irony: my address book is online). I appreciated it deeply, but it was funny that she had to "organize" the card sending when it used to be normal.

But the point is this: if I haven't spoken to you in several years, and I only know it's your special day because FB tells me, why should I tell you Happy Birthday? If I don't really have a relationship with you, does it make sense that the only time you hear from me is to give you good wishes on your birthday? It seems so shallow to me - the birthday thing but sometimes Facebook in general - because it allows me to keep tabs on my "friends" without really engaging them in relationship or REALLY hear how they're doing. I say "happy birthday!" but don't really take the time to catch up or engage you, and that feels awkward and shallow.

One of my goals this year is to be better at sending cards, not just birthday cards. I've made a Shutterfly calendar with all my friend's and family's birthdays (with a big picture of their face), to help me remember. If we're friends and I am currently in relationship with you, I want to celebrate you! It's not that I don't want to celebrate past acquaintances, but I just don't feel I have the place in their lives to meaningfully do so. I want to be intentional and present in all my friendships, and sending personal mail is one of the ways I intend to do that.

The Joyful Mess of Marriage

This is not a "my marriage is perfect, let me tell you 10 things I learned that can help you, too" kind of post. It's also not a "wow, marriage is so wonderful and blissful and I hope everyone gets to be married for a year like me!" post. It's just me honoring the fact that it's been a year.

One whole year!

I'm resisting the fact that I should be at a "certain level" of intimacy, knowledge, and happiness in my marriage. I've always heard the first year is very important, but honestly, I think all years are. It's not like you suddenly "get it" when you hit Year One. It still takes work and crying and talking and laughing to figure the mess out. I hope Brent and I are doing all those things for the rest of our lives, and that we never stop pursuing each other.

Wait, marriage can be a mess? Well, it's not like a regular friendship, where the level of intimacy and loyalty goes only so high. If your friend does something that hurts you, or maybe you wish they'd done or said it a little differently, you might "confront" them about it, or at least mention it. But in marriage, if you don't say something, it's like a car that is veering off the road. You only notice the veering gradually, but eventually you move into other lanes and bam! hit the median. If you correct the car with little turns to the right and left, you will stay in your lane. Same with marriage - it's the little turns here and there that keep you on track. It's hard because I'd rather pretend everything is ok. But I also deep down can't stand it when I keep things in, and we've tried to create a safe place  and process for when we "need to talk." Sometimes you feel messy because you aren't perfect, and sometimes admitting your not perfect, to yourself and even to your spouse, takes grace.

Ahhh, but marriage is also joyful, too! In the past year, I've experienced the most deep and fulfilling intimacy with another human being I ever thought possible. I never knew I could open my heart up so much and find it accepted and loved even more by a person. I never knew I could cry and snot on someone's shoulder and they wouldn't bat an eye!

In the past year, I've gone through two surgeries and multiple health issues, we've set up our condo and found our rhythm of lifestyle and rest, we've waded through questions of infertility and wondered if the Lord would have us get pregnant, (He did!), we've been on several adventures I never knew existed, and I've found the most peace and security in a person I've ever known. My marriage makes me smile because I have friend. I have someone to do life with, a partner, a comrade. Life doesn't get easier when you're married, it just gets easier to deal with having a friend by your side.

What's even more deep is that this friend is committed, not just your roommate for the next year. They are committed for your life! To see you grow, to fight for the best for you, and to help you along when you're struggling. I find so much joy in having a cheerleader next to me, and need the reminder that I am valued and worth it often.

Recently we attended the funeral of Brent's grandfather, and being the emotionally sensitive person I am, I got the sense that although his grandma was relieved he was done with his suffering, there was still sadness. She would reach over for his hand, but not find it. She may wake up each morning for the next several years and feel an emptiness and lack. From what I know of the family, they loved each other well. Such companionship and love is what I aim for -w here at the end of our lives, whoever goes first, we can say that there were no regrets. I don't wish I loved him more. I want to say that I loved my husband well, and pass that legacy on to my own grandchildren.

So the first year of marriage for me was SO good and SO growing. I've tasted enough that I'm willing to keep going, push through the hard things, and experience joy on the other side. It was well worth the wait - God knew what He was doing and still does. While I know somewhat of what this next year will hold (baby, house, new job, etc), I'm excited to see what adventure God has in mind for us & what legacy of love we get to build.

The Fog of Transition

Whenever I don't feel like myself, I ask what's wrong. Why am I acting this way? What lies am I believing that keep me from living the way I really want to? Do I just need a nap? Sometimes the fix is quick - I realize right away what isn't settling well in my soul, and I'm able to correct it. But sometimes, the answer eludes me. Sometimes, it takes weeks to unravel and confront.

{Btw, as I'm awkwardly typing this with a bandaid on the tip of my right middle finger, I kindly remind you to check the trash can for discarded razor blades before you reach your hand in to help empty it. It will help your typing tremendously. End PSA.}

Before the beginning of the year, we began looking around for houses. It's been a process mostly because we are learning what we want, need, and ultimately how our lifestyle is going to look. We put an offer in on a house, but to make a long story short, the owners have no clue what they want so we sat waiting for 6 weeks while they figured it out. We are still looking and wondering. We are expecting our first baby GIRL in July, and even thinking about all that entails can get exhausting. Will we be ready with all the stuff we need? Will we be ready to be parents? Will we move in to our new house before baby comes? Am I ready to be sleep deprived? And if that's not enough, Brent is exploring other job opportunities in Austin, which has been an ongoing process since last August.

I admit that I am in a big life transition. We haven't physically moved anywhere yet, and the events that will bring about transition are all in the future, which means I'm "pre-transition," I suppose. But my mind has been totally fixated on the upcoming changes, it's almost as if I'm there. When the beginning of the year started, I began preparing for those changes, because honestly, the job and house could happen at any moment. I began making decorating wish lists and imagining what it would be like for Brent to have a different work schedule - how would that change our relationship? My schedule?

I was so focused on the future I forgot to live in the present. I was so focused on what I was going to be that I forgot who I was today.

Several times since then, I've thought I wasn't being myself. At the end of the day, I would wonder, "what did you actually do today?" Life was a blur. I felt almost like I was depressed - didn't really have passion or care about much, yet unable to really understand why. I knew I had previously received a lot of joy from my job, my friends, and my life. But it just all seemed blah.

My journey out of this fog, as I call it, was not quick. It was gradual. It began at a women's retreat put on by my church. I was assisting in the planning and was in charge of free time, so I didn't look at it like a participant. Being there for a few minutes, however, made me realize God had much more for me than to just help out. After that weekend, I realized that I was in a transition (which, if you're in one and don't know it, identifying that fact is really important!), and that I had forgotten who I was. At that point, however, I couldn't go much further. My emotional capacity was spent just realizing that! Over the course of the next 2 weeks, I would listen to a worship song, a sermon, or catch a phrase a friend would say and I would realize something more. The big change happened when I listened to Paul Manwaring's sermon from Bethel from 12/14/14. He literally called me out of the fog I was in and told me to be myself. He asked such an important question - what is the "I AM" in you? What part of God has He placed in you that only you can fulfill?

Slowly I began writing down my passions. I looked back in my journal and realized PEOPLE. They were my passion. Seeing them change, seeing them freed! And the next night I got to verbalize this out loud to my small group, and somehow I was out of the fog. I began to live out who I was before, and it felt SO good! I began to see the present as all I could live in, and began giving the future up to God. How freeing! I could live for today and not worry about tomorrow!

I'm so thankful for the present. It's so beautiful because once a moment passes, it won't happen again. This encourages me to be intentional about how I live, what I say, and where my focus is. While I'm not perfect, I'm thankful I have a God who centers me and allows me to refocus with grace and no judgment. And guess what? I'm even more excited about the future now that I'm living in the present.

Pregnancy.

Currently, I feel somewhat pregnant. I have bouts of exhaustion and have to pee a lot (but don't pee a lot when I do, what's up with that?!), but otherwise don't feel that pregnant. I just feel fat. Like as in, I ate too much over the holidays and have yet to gain my old body back. My pants don't fit, I can't stretch as far as I could before in yoga class, and lying on my tummy is sometimes uncomfortable. But all those things could be true for someone who was just larger in general.

However, despite my semi-pregnant feelings, I do have other symptoms and signs there really is a human being growing inside of me. I'm not that hung up on "symptoms," mostly because having a chronic illness numbs you to the novelty of something feeling wrong or not good in your body. But these are different and new and somehow pointing me towards the fact that yes, I am pregnant.

I should probably just buy stock in Zantac. I eat that stuff like candy. So much for my lower esophageal sphincter. (For those who are unsure what I'm referring to, it's HEARTBURN). Ouch.

I bought a bunch of maternity clothes recently, and as much fun as it was to buy new clothes and have new options, I also really miss my old clothes. I mean, I spent the past 20+ years putting together my wardrobe! I really like the set I had! 

My sinuses are swollen (pregnancy side effect) so sometimes the nose breathing during the entirety of my yoga class is not my fave, or running up the stairs, or carrying large objects. Unfortunately, I don't see this improving much anytime soon. Maybe I can ask to breathe through my mouth?

But I AM pregnant. When I find myself leaning towards complaining (which actually I do little of), I remind myself this is a gift. A miracle. This wasn't supposed to happen, but God made sure it did.

And as I write notes to my future baby in their little journal, I am filled with wonder that God is creating an entirely unique human being, allowing me to experience its growth, and entrusting me with the baby's care. I am so thankful we have 9ish months to prepare for baby; I'm going to need all that time to really process and take hold of what is to come.

So there's my current happenings. In two weeks, we get to find out the gender. I have a feeling it will become all the more real after that appointment! :)

Sunsets and Perspective

Most of my life, I've had a fascination with sunsets. I think everyone has some degree of respect and awe when a beautiful display of color is filling up the skies, but for some reason I've gathered that my level of respect and awe is slightly more than others. When I catch a good one, which is sometimes hard living in a city, it almost paralyzes me - I have to stop and stare, taking in the whole 360 view, which also involves lots of oohing and aahing.

On our road trip to Kansas for Christmas, I was watching a particularly captivating sunset as we were driving, and I had an "AH HA!" moment. A moment where I realized why I and others desire to view the sun slipping into the horizon, why people purposely build their back porches (and place their rocking chairs) facing the west, and why research shows that watching sunsets can reduce your stress levels.

Sunsets are like a "reset" button. They occur everyday, give or take a few hours depending on the season, but they ALWAYS happen. Though not always as visible or beautiful each time, it's like a regular reminder of the daily routine, the season, the changes, the earth's and star's rhythm that keeps us moving. Just think - what would it be like without a sunset everyday? I think we would all freak out! Something inherent in our human clock would be missing. I know I would start to feel very insecure and unsafe - if the sunset isn't there, then who's really in charge? There's a reason the Bible speaks of God's love and faithfulness "as surely as the sun rises."

If sunrises remind us it's a new day, sunsets help us calm down, recognize the pattern and rhythm of life, and appreciate the day we just lived. By starting into the horizon at something honestly few of us really understand (why so many reds and purples and oranges?), we simultaneously gain perspective on who we are as humans, but also that there is something bigger than us going on. As much as we like to be in control, sometimes it's comforting to know someone else is in control and has a bigger idea of who we are and what we're doing on the earth.

Sunsets remind me to slow down and appreciate the world I live in. I hope the next time you see a sunset, you're able to do the same.

(taken at Cedar Hill State Park near Dallas, Texas)

Hope

What is the point of hope, anyways? It's pretty fun for awhile, while you're waiting for something, expecting big things to happen, but somewhat either naive or confident that the event/thing will actually occur. When you're younger, you tend to be a little more naive of the realities of the world, so hope is an easy thing. The world is before you - anything can happen! As I've gotten older, I've realized it's harder for me to hope. Gotta stay practical. What if it doesn't happen? You've been burned before.

When I want to hope in something but all the input I'm getting is "reality statements" instead of faith, it becomes very difficult to get excited and expectant for what's to come. To protect myself, I set the bar really low.... as in, it won't happen so what's my plan B? I get more excited about the plan B because it seems safer. It seems more secure.

What if hope's purpose was to prepare us to receive what was to come?

Think back to when you were young and naive - what was going through your mind when you hoped for something? You dreamt about what it was going to be like when it happened - the joy, the excitement, the fun. You imagined various scenarios in your head, drew a idyllic picture of the outcome, and imagined what life would be like after it happened. When it did actually happen, even if not the same way you imagined, you still had joy! You had spent so many months preparing for it and thinking about it, there was something that had to come out! All that time preparing and thinking and planning had to be released in joy and excitement.

But the first time it doesn't happen, and I mean, goes completely wrong and different from what you imagined, you begin to grow up. You mature a little because your view of the world is wider and sadder. Your heart literally sinks. You get burned. Did I misunderstand what hope was about? Why did I even think that could be a thing? What made me think that would happen?

When I found out I was pregnant, I was shocked. Not joy-shocked, the kind where you're like what?! this is great! I had no idea! But the kind where I didn't know what to do. The home pregnancy tests came in a package of two, so I drank a bunch of water and waited again to go pee. Positive, again. I called my gynecologist's office immediately:

I need to make an appointment.
What is it for?
Well, I just took a home pregnancy test and want to make sure it was right.
Well, we usually trust the home tests. The OB usually will see you when you're about 8 weeks.
But how do I know if I'm really pregnant?
Well, I guess I can order a blood test, and we'll go from there. 

On our way to a camping trip out of state, the phone call came that yes, I was pregnant and can we schedule you for your first sonogram and OB visit? On the trip, I was reflecting one morning and had to repent for not believing God could be big enough to allow me to conceive. I realized in such a powerful way that my lack of HOPE had prevented me from fully receiving and rejoicing in the gift of pregnancy. I didn't really think it was going to happen; I had even begun setting my heart on adoption and/or foster care because it was the "safer" option for my heart.

Going forward, I'm so grateful for the gift of hope. It prepares us for what's to come. It's rooted in his promises, and allows our hearts to remain expectant without having expectations that may not happen. An expectant heart is one that's ready; and I've found it's so much MORE rewarding to hope than to expect the mediocre.

This sermon by Danny Silk on Expectancy (from Bethel) was really helpful in my journey to realizing what hope really was. If you have 45 minutes, please listen to it!

https://itunes.apple.com/us/podcast/bethel-church-sermon-week/id76583739?mt=2&i=320040961