For those of you who like birth stories…

THIS one is a doozy.

For some background: Ezra, my firstborn, came after about 15 hours of steadily progressive labor, and three (you read that right: THREE) hours of pushing. He was born two days after his due date, on September 28th, in our dining room (on purpose) in a tub, like a hippie earth mother baby. Baby sister’s due date was the day after Ezra’s birthday, and this time we planned to have her at a hospital near my clinic, where our midwife practices.

K. Here we go. Sunday September 27th was a normal Sunday. We went to church like usual, I don’t even remember what we did during the day, but there was certainly no inkling of impending labor that evening as we went to sleep. Felt totally normal.

I woke up to mildly painful, fairly frequent contractions around 12:45am on the 28th. No way this is the real thing, I thought, but I had better keep track of these just in case. I started timing contractions, which were pretty variable in frequency, less than a minute long, and comfortable enough to be laying in bed through. I kept expecting them to stop, but they kept coming. After an hour I thought, Well there’s no use waking Jeremy up just yet. It’s only been an hour. I’m still pretty sure these are going to stop, and not be actual labor. So I kept timing. I think I had something like 8 contractions in an hour, but sometimes they were 2 1/2 minutes apart, sometimes 7 1/2 minutes apart. They were all just baaarely a minute, but by the end of the second hour I could tell they had been getting more painful, and I started to think Oh crap. This might be actual labor. I woke Jeremy and told him I thought we might be having this baby today.

Over the next hour or so, we debated on what to do. “Do you think I should call the midwife?” “I don’t know… maybe you should try and go back to sleep?” With Ezra, I had labored through the night, and in the wee hours of the morning two years prior I remember thinking “YIKES I AM IN SERIOUS LABOR” only to call the midwives and be told, “nah, sounds like you’re still pretty early… Just try and get some rest, and call us back in a few hours.” As we chatted and debated, my contractions were getting stronger, and I could no longer stay in bed through them. We finally landed on texting my midwife around 3:30am. She responded right away, “That sounds promising. You feeling like you need to head in yet?” I wasn’t sure, but I didn’t feel super confident. I mean my contractions were paaaaiiiiinful and intense, but holy wow I had only been laboring for a total of almost 3 hours! And some of my contractions were still 5+ minutes apart, and a little less than a minute long. By 3:45ish, my midwife offered to come to my house and check me OR meet her at the hospital in about an hour. I couldn’t imagine going to the hospital in only an hour made sense (I mean we had at least like four more hours to go, right?!), so I asked her to come check me, which she was happy to do.

My midwife got to our house around 4:30am, and by that time I was thinking heading to the hospital was not such a bad idea. Things had gotten way more intense, and seemed to be moving way faster than they did with Ez (still a steady progression, just quicker). I remember thinking Oh man, these contractions can’t get any worse because HOW WOULD I SURVIVE THEM. And also this does not seem like an ideal time for a 20 minute car ride.

My midwife barely checked me, and pretty much instantly said, “OK yup you’re 8cm, it’s time to go now, we need to get in the car.” Jeremy had already called the neighbs (for Ezra) and texted Ez’s daycare to let them know he’d be coming last minute. Before we left, my midwife asked me, “Do you feel like you have to push?” It wasn’t super obvious to me at first, but after she asked I was like OH CRAP THIS IS HAPPENING because YEAH I DID. “Ok, that’s going to get worse when you’re sitting in the car so just make sure you’re really cognizant about breathing through your mouth,” she said soooo calmly. “Are we going to make it???” I asked. “Yes, totally we’re going to make it,” she said (also very calmly and confidently). And just as cool-as-a-cucumber she added “If you need to stop and pull over on the way, just give me a call, I’ll be right behind you guys.”

We got in the car and all I could think was “Sweet Jesus, sloooowwwwww the contractions and let us make it to the hospital!” I was literally praying between each one THAT WE WOULD JUST MAKE IT IN TIME. Jeremy did a great job keeping his cool (I think he was still thinking, “this girl pushed for THREE HOURS, we got time right?!?!”) but was driving at a clipping pace to the hospital. Thankfully there weren’t many people on the road at 4:40am, since he was flying through every stop sign we came to. It took us 19 minutes to get to the hospital, and the minute we got there I got out of the car and if they hadn’t already, our lives turned into a WOMAN ABOUT TO GIVE BIRTH IN FIVE SECONDS SITCOM EPISODE OR MOVIE SCENE. I literally stopped outside of the ER and started screaming like a crazy person, and PUUUUUSHING because THATS JUST WHAT MY BODY STARTED DOING TO ME. I think that’s the point in all of this where Jeremy realized things were moving along quicker than he’d expected and also like HOLY CRAP MY WIFE MIGHT HAVE THIS BABY ON THE STREET IF I DON’T DO SOMETHING.

Jeremy ran inside and I heard him say, “I NEED A WHEELCHAIR! I’VE GOT A PREGNANT LADY OUTSIDE!” After the whole ordeal he told me for a hospital they seemed surprisingly underprepared to handle a lady about to have a baby walking into the ER. Anyway he got the wheelchair, ran outside, and I sat right down in it (stiiiiiill puuuuuuushinggg–NOT MY FAULT).

I heard someone ask, “how far along is she?!” “9 months!” said Jeremy, and I managed to say, “my midwife is here somewhere.” Some lady grabbed the wheelchair from Jeremy and said, “I’LL BRING HER UPSTAIRS!” and we were off. When we got to the elevators, she made Jeremy take some other way to get us registered (!), so it was just me and transport chick. I don’t think she was a fan of all the pushing (and yelling!) I was still doing in the elevator on our way up, because she kept saying “STOP PUSHING!” and when we got upstairs she said, “why did you wait so long?!?!” I LITERALLY almost said, “LADY I AM GOING TO CLOCK YOU,” but even in labor my Minnesota nice blood kept my mouth shut. This poor lady was freaking out, because when we got up to L&D all the doors were locked, no one was around, she didn’t have her badge or something, and I was ABOUT TO HAVE THIS BABY AND APPARENTLY SHE WAS GOING TO BE THE ONE TO CATCH IT. She was literally banging on the doors of the L&D unit yelling, “SOMEBODY LET US IN, I’VE GOT A PREGNANT LADY OUT HERE PUSHING!!!” Finally someone must have heard her because the doors opened and she was all “I NEED A ROOM! SHE’S PUSHING!!!!”

They directed us to a room, and I basically jumped on the bed immediately and started (kept?!) pushing. A nurse and a couple other people ran in, and I remember someone saying, “are you going to wait for your midwife, or do you want Thomas to deliver you?” I remember thinking WHAT THE HECK KIND OF A QUESTION IS THAT?! I remember sort of stumbling over my words and saying something like, “Uh, I don’t know I think my midwife is here somewhere?” A couple of them (in unison!) were like “THEN DON’T PUSH.” And I remember saying, “IF MY BODY’S GONNA PUSH, I’M GONNA PUSH, I DON’T CARE IF THOMAS DELIVERS ME.” (WHO IS THOMAS ANYWAY?!) About a second later I heard my midwife get there, and I heard her say, “SOMEBODY GO GET HER HUSBAND, I DON’T CARE IF HE’S REGISTERED. AND TELL HIM TO RUN.” Jeremy got there in a few more seconds and maybe three pushes later, miss Nora was HERE. Our intake papers say we got to the hospital at 5am, and Nora was born at 5:03.

SO glad we called the midwife when we did. Cuz oooohhhhhhh MY, we JUST made it. All was well that ended well, and we could not believe things went down the way they did. We had a fine experience at Mount Sinai and were home the next afternoon. Miss Nora is healthy and sweet, and Ezra is doing a great job as big brother so far. Thank you Jesus!

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the hardest thing

A Community Health Center is not an easy place to work. It’s not an easy place to spend your first year as a new Nurse Practitioner. Even with solid co-workers and bosses that genuinely care about you, its very difficult work. Patients are scheduled to be seen in fifteen minute appointment slots; patients who have a myriad of complex medical problems, social issues, and limited resources.

Several months in, I asked my medical director for some more support. Specifically, I asked if he thought I could start meeting on a regular basis with one of the experienced physicians at Lawndale, Nikhil Siony. I had worked with Siony a number of times, gone to him for help and advice, and just generally liked the guy. Siony was happy to help, so we started meeting every couple weeks.

I couldn’t overstate what a help this became. Aside from providing solid medical advice when it came to treating my patients and working them up with a variety of diagnostics, Dr. Siony was a breath of fresh air in the midst of very challenging job. A straight and to the point guy with a dry sense of humor, Dr. Siony came to Lawndale in 2005 after working as an attending at a New York City hospital. But I can’t remember a meeting we had which he didn’t start by checking in with a, “Hey how’s it going though? Ok? You handling everything ok?” My typical response was something of a general yes, likely followed by some rambling about how I worried I missed something here or could of done something better there. Dr. Siony would always very matter-of-factly tell me there was no reason to stress about anything, especially in your first year of practice. That for the first year you are always learning, and that that was the case for even him when he first came to Lawndale, and that nobody should stress.

Not long after starting to meet with Siony, knowing that he would be in clinic as a resource, or that I could call him with a question anytime, or that I would be meeting with him soon to go over questions gave me a peace about being in clinic. I knew that no matter how tough the patient, or how complicated the medical problem, I could always get his advice, any day, any time. A few months ago, I received a biopsy report on a young patient of mine which came back showing cancer. It was a Saturday when I got the result, and it rocked my weekend. I had never faced anything like this before, and I didn’t even know where to start, how to get my patient seen and where. I called Siony, and within fifteen minutes, my patient was scheduled to see Heme Onc first thing Monday morning.

I remember being in clinic one day, seeing a patient for a simple complaint. She had an ear infection. I think I was discussing treatment with another provider, and Siony asked me what was going on. Before long, he was breezing through this patient’s chart. She’d been to the clinic for the same complaint a number of times. He asked me, “Why does she keep coming back for ear infections? Is she taking care of herself? It sounds like she is not taking care of herself. Let’s see what else we can do for her. Have her see behavioral health, let’s see what kind of resources we can get her connected with, yeah?” He was right. She was a single mom with several children and very little support. He had a way of seeing patients and identifying their needs that went way beyond simple medical care.

At one of our most recent meetings, I had asked Siony how he knew who to call for various things when his patients had immediate needs (like the cancer doc he called for my patient on a Saturday). Like, how could I get something like an immediate heme onc consult over the weekend, or a cardiac cath that needed to happen within a week, on my own. He told me, “You just call me, and I’ll take care of it.” But I said to him, “Yeah but what if you leave or something? What if I couldn’t get you to help me?” He responded with, “Where am I going? I am never going to leave Lawndale.” Even after 9 years of practicing medicine at Lawndale, the guy didn’t have a trace of burnout in him.

About a week after that meeting, I found him in clinic to help me with a patient I was seeing. He greeted me with his usual “Hola, doctora! Como estas?” (he often greeted us midlevels in Spanish, despite his thick Indian accent and the fact that he didn’t actually speak Spanish). Before I started with my question, he told me he had been thinking about what I had asked him about. He said he decided he’d give me the names of the specialists he would go to for specific things, as well as instructions for how to get in touch with them. He told me, “I thought about it. You can call them yourself if you want to.”

Friday afternoon last week I was at home working on some follow up (I was out of clinic because I’d work that Saturday). I had a sort of difficult situation I wanted some advice on, so I gave him a call. He didn’t answer, but I knew he’d get back to me when he could, as usual. Probably within the hour.

About an hour later I got the email: “Attention Staff- Many of you may have heard the news that Ogden provider Dr. Nikhil Siony was in a serious car accident on his way to Lawndale this morning. He remains in the ICU in critical condition. We will communicate any changes in his condition via email.”

My heart sank as I covered my mouth in disbelief. By the next morning, it was clear to me just how bad it was. That Siony may not be coming back to us. I went to the hospital that evening after work, and stood at his bedside, like so many others. I told him it was Erin Mann. That I saw a patient of his in clinic that day, who was wondering what happened to him. That I had tried to call him the day before. I had a question for him. I just wasn’t sure what to do about this situation I had with a patient he had helped me with before. I told him all about it. I told him I couldn’t find that list of specialists he gave me to call. That things would suck without him. That it was going to be rough without him at Lawndale. He lay there still, silent, badly bruised, in a coma.

Today I got the news. Siony died last night, in that ICU, surrounded by his family and loved ones. To be quite frank, I don’t know what we’re all going to do without him. I’m not worried about where he is; its clear he had a steadfast faith in the one true God. It’s the rest of us that have to manage in a world, at Lawndale, without Dr. Nikhil Siony. He was a mentor to me in many ways. I pray that God would somehow teach us all to keep running the race, without Nikhil Siony. That the God of hope would fill us with all joy and peace as we trust in Him

Holy Week

It’s Holy Week. The most important, best week of the Christian calendar. I love this week. The world of greeting cards and mushy feel-good holiday half-truths has not hijacked Easter quite like it’s hijacked Christmas, and while celebrating God becoming man is amazing and right and good, remembering his death and resurrection is the true heart of the Christian faith. You cannot fake Easter. Easter is about the Gospel. It just is.

In so many ways, my work as an NP takes place in a setting that makes me keenly aware of the world’s need for a Savior, of my need for a Savior. Holy. Wow. My patients witness and experience on a daily basis the very most difficult things this world has to offer. And I am being humbled all the time, shown how little I myself live the way I want to live, the way I’m called to live. Oh how we all need a Savior. The story of the world is that the world desperately needs saving. And the news is so good. SO GOOD. Because the news is that everyone everywhere–all people–are offered a chance to be made right with and before God, by what He did through His son for us.

I love this week so much, because what is means to be a Christian is stripped down to the very core of our faith. The story of Easter is bare bones, people. It’s the only thing we have to hold on to. The very message of Easter is that Jesus’ work for us on the cross is literally what makes us Christians. This is the true story of our faith, that “all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God, and are justified by his grace as a gift, through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus,” as Paul says in Romans (3:23). This is not a way. This is the way. There is no other way.

We’re studying the book of Matthew in BSF, and these weeks leading up to and through Holy Week we’ve been reading the various gospel accounts of the events leading up to Jesus trial and crucifixion. Have you read these? Have you read these lately? Read them. Holy wow. I’ve been a Christian for 20+ years and I’ve been amazed at how striking some of these passages are. I hope you are encouraged by the message of Easter, and that it produces in you (and myself) sober joy, gratitude, humility, the kind of repentance which brings freedom, and a renewed sense of what it means to follow Jesus. Blessings on you this Holy Week! Cheers, friends.

Five months of baby loooove

Last time I wrote, Ez was seven weeks, and full-time work as an NP was locked down but sitting at a safe distance. It feels like I am living in an entirely different universe these days. And the child is getting bigger, older, changing aaaall the time. Its already been 5 months!!!

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3mo3 months

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He is still such a delight. The kid stopped sleeping through the night and has since become an I-love-to-wake-up-every-two-to-three-hours baby, but ohhhh how he smiles and giggles and always wakes up in the morning cooing, babbling, and grinning.

Going back to work full-time rocked our world. Those first two weeks were ROUGH. Ez stopped sleeping through the night pretty much immediately, I got sick my second day, then Ez got sick (with a persistent, wheezy cough), then Jer of course, all while Chicago was hitting record-breaking lows in the middle of what’s turned out to be the longest winter of my life.

Life has settled down a little since those first weeks, in part because we made the decision for me to decrease my working hours by one day. It means two extra years of paying back my scholarship, but we’re pretty sure we’ll be in Chicago for at least that long, and after experiencing how not sustainable having me out of the house five days a week was, the decision felt like a no-brainer. SO. I have a few areas to cover since I last wrote, yes? Here we go!

WORRRRRRK. Yeah, that’s happening now. Its as official as official gets. Licensed. Seeing patients. Writing orders, prescribing medications, diagnosing and managing a wide variety of medical problems. Its just insane. It’s actually wonderful and exciting and challenging and stressful and terrifying all at once. Starting a new job is always an adjustment, and this certainly has been a difficult one. But I can tell God is working on me, using a challenging season to produce growth. And along the way he has truly provided for my needs. My collaborating physician is a gem, and my boss really truly cares about the wellbeing of the providers at my work. Still so thankful for this job.

MOTHERRRRHOOOOOOOD. I am in utter disbelief that in less than one month this baby of ours will be six months. I know, I know. Time just flies, everyone says it. But serious! For example in less than one month, I am supposed to start feeding this child real human food. Say whaaaaat. Its wild. In some ways it feels like time is flyyying by, but at the same time, it’s crazy to think it was only a little over five months ago that Ezra came. It kind of feels like he’s been around forever. I feel like we just struck gold with Ezra. He is seriously such a delight. [And I’m really enjoying his sunny disposition and go-with-the-flow attitude while it’s here, because I’ve been told I was an absolutely dreamy baby, but I happen to know I was also a not so easy to deal with toddler-to-pre-teen (reeeally hoping this kid didn’t get this part of my DNA).] I wish I had some wise or clever or even organized reflections on new momhood for you.

In fact, I think I probably have more updates to share, but it’s 10pm (which my body now tries to tell me is something like 3 hours past bedtime), there is nothing else in my brain right now, and this is the third time this week I’ve sat down to try and finish writing! Yikes! This will have to do for now.

seven weeks

It’s amazing how time just passes. Seven weeks to the day Ez was born and it feels like an eternity ago. One week and a day ago I was taking my FNP boards and I can hardly imagine wondering whether I’d pass, which I was doing for a good two months up to that date.

Autumn especially flies by around here because the season is so brief before suddenly Thanksgiving and Christmas are around the corner and everyone is hoping for snow. This season is a unique time for me this year. I am eagerly awaiting the holidays as usual, and yet mentally slamming on the breaks, trying to slow their arrival and soak up every minute I’ve got at home before January comes and full-time Nurse Practitionerdom is upon me.

I start as an FNP in internal medicine at a community health center not far from us on January 6th. I’ve been hoping, praying, scheming for a job at this clinic since before I even started my grad program. I couldn’t be more excited. It’s seriously my current dream job and I’m still in a bit of disbelief that I landed it. Also last week when Jer and I started talking childcare logistics after getting my schedule I kind of wanted to crawl under a rock and never come out. Blegh.

I’ve just been a little amazed at how much I love spending the days with our little man. I don’t think it’s that I feel guilt about my plans to work full-time, or fear that we won’t be able to find someone trustworthy to help care for him. I just really like being at home with the bub. God has inconveniently given us a delightful firstborn, which has prevented me from getting those get-me-out-of-the-house-and-take-this-baby-off-my-hands-or-I’m-going-to-lose-it feelings enough to make me eager to get back to working full-time. Dead gum.

I know (or at least trust) that God will somehow get me through leaving Ezra on a daily basis to work. Millions of parents do it, and get through it. I will be one of them. But for now I am seriously working to be present in the moments I am blessed to have in this season. To rest, and enjoy new motherhood, so that I can carry the joys of this time into the tougher days ahead. I really want to lean into this time. Pray for me. Pray for the days ahead, but pray for the days I’ve got now, that I would listen to what God has to show me today, and allow him to prepare me for what’s to come.

here

IMG_4206Twenty-two days ago, baby Ez came. I can hardly believe it was only just over three weeks ago that we were waiting, wondering when this little man would show up. It feels like months since I was pregnant, pondering what this little person would be like, finding it hard to imagine what it would be like when we’d finally meet.

The evening of September 27th (the day after my due date–also historically the day women in my family have gone into labor) was a beautiful one. I had spent the day studying hard for NP boards with my friends while Jeremy worked from home, and we decided we had better spend the evening enjoying the gorgeous weather and relaxing a little after a hard day’s work.

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It was my absolute favorite kind of evening. We walked to the square for a picnic dinner, stopping at one of our favorite places (Half Italian) for provisions. We ate on the grass and took the long way home to stroll down our favorite neighborhood streets. It was lovely in every way. Gorgeous weather, the best company, and plenty of time to slow down and just enjoy this short season of life for an evening.

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We half-jokingly referred to all our jaunting around the neighborhood as a “baby march,” and wouldn’t you know it–by 8pm the contractions started. Also, remember that my sister-in-law was pregnant with my next baby niece, due the very same day as me? Well that evening she was also still waiting for her little one to arrive, and we had been texting a lot over the previous days and weeks–constantly checking in with each other. “How are you doing? Hello?? ARE YOU IN LABOR?!?!” You know, that sort of thing. So of course I texted her when I started having these contractions. And THIS HAPPENED:

laborstartingNo joke. My niece was born later that night. !!! Amazing. I could not believe we ended up going into labor on the same day (at the same TIME!!!), and having our kids less than 24 hours apart. Yowwwwza! It was pretty special, and certainly an encouragement (not to mention an inspiration) to hear of my niece’s arrival as I was in the beginning stages of labor.

I won’t go into all the details of my labor and delivery, but I know some of you are probably curious as to whether we went through with the home birth we were planning (or maybe more accurately how we survived it), so I’ll give you the short version. There’s nothing really crazy or surprising to tell. My labor was about 17 hours. Contractions steadily increased in frequency, duration, and intensity. It all started around 8 at night, and by the time we got into bed, contractions were painful enough that there wasn’t much hope for me sleeping. By 10am the next morning, our doula headed over and our midwives showed up around 11am. By noon I was 7 1/2cm dilated and around 3ish I got in the infamous tub and started pushing. Ez was born at 4:47pm. Giving birth was freaking intense. By far the hardest thing I’d ever done. But the vibe in our apartment was more chill than I imagined it would be during labor and I managed to get through it without doing anything crazy or swearing at my husband, which I consider a major win.

Honestly the best part about having a home birth was being home riiiight after the baby came. We so very much love our home, and it was soooooo wonderful to be in a place that we love and which feels so familiar and important to us. Also, within the first week of having Ez we had to take him to the hospital for jaundice, so it was especially a blessing to have been home those first few days. The very evening Ez was born, both sets of our parents, my sister, and my nephew Wyatt came over, and it was sooooo wonderful to have everyone with our new baby in our cozy living room. I would totally have another kid this way, even though it means no drugz (and let me tell you, I totally get why people opt for epidurals during labor 🙂 ).

Having a newborn is not easy peasy, but we totally love this kid, think he’s a gem, and I am lo-ving not being pregnant.

I gave myself two weeks to rest hard core and mainly not think about my NP boards. But those two weeks have come and gone and I have officially scheduled my exam, so you can start praying for me immediately. I’m trying not to think too much about how hard they will be and whether I will pass and what I will do if I don’t etc. etc. so as not to go crazy, but let me tell you having that exam on the calendar is fa-fa-freaky. SO. We had a child, but life keeps on trucking along. Yikes!!! God is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, right? Pray pray pray and I will keep you posted on what happens!

before he comes

It’s September 25th. The day before I’m due to have a baby. How on Earth did this day ever come?

In some ways, I feel like I will never have this baby. Like he’s just cozied up inside of me and will be for the next… I don’t know, forever? Part of it is that [praise Jesus] I’m not awfully terribly uncomfortable like it seems so many women are as they approach 40 weeks. I think another part of it is that labor just comes when it comes, right? There’s really no this-certainly-happens-the-day-before-you’ll-go-into-labor things. Any indicators of being “close” to actually popping out a human are awfully vague, and usually mean baby’s coming in either the next several days or the next several weeks.

For the most part, the waiting has been ok, but it messes with the part of me that prefers to plan and more importantly mentally prepare for things. It’s so odd to caveat all your plans with “well, as long as the baby’s not here yet.” I’ve sort of been making two sets of mental plans for the next couple weeks and its striking how wildly different they feel. For example: Friday I’ll meet my friends at a coffee shop and study for NP boards for as long as I can handle. OR I’ll be passed out on our couch (that’s what you do after labor, right?) with a new baby, my mom will be in town, Jer will be home, and my in-laws will be on their way. It’ll be buckle-down-and-study mode, or sleep/vacation/family/not-at-all-thinking-about-boards mode. Vierd, ja.

The crazy thing about having your due date riiiiight around the corner is that once you get this close, you start to think about the very real (and seemingly likely) possibility of going past that date, and by more than just a couple days. I can sort of wrap my head around this kid coming Friday, or Saturday, or even Sunday. But October? Even second week of October?? Ohhhh Lordy. I don’t know if my brain can handle fourteen more days of wondering, dual-planning, caveating.

Of course I understand that shortly there will be a tiny human in my house and I’ll hardly be able to fathom having written this blog post. I guess that’s sort of what inspired me to ramble a bit here today. I have this sense that everything is about to change, but here I am, still my normal self, pre-baby, pre-parent, unaware of what the other side of all of this actually holds.

Its a quiet, peaceful morning here in my home today. The last several weeks really have been good. For the most part, the Lord has marked my days with peace and contentment through the waiting. I haven’t been consumed by a desire to fast forward, and for that I am extremely thankful. Jeremy and I have really enjoyed putting the baby boy’s room together, and home life has felt a little more sane than usual. We’ve been able to do some of the things we love to do together most, and I’ve been struck by what a joy it is that we share so many of our quirks [read: crazy]. We took a trip to ikea the other night and both fell completely in love with a not-really-actually-very-babyish floor lamp that we both saw as perfect for the nursery. We responsibly walked away from the lamp, and shortly after both agreed we better have a second look at the lamp, which we ultimately brought home with us.

I think Jer’s gotten into a bit of a groove with his studies and work commitments, which is huge considering the significant increase in intensity and sheer hours required that this semester and the beginning of fall have brought. I’ve had great times of work and study for boards with my grad school friends, and its been such a blessing to spend time with them again after having not seen much of each other since the end of our program.

There’s really no rush for baby to arrive. I’ve been praying and praying that he would come at the exact perfect right time, and I really believe that he will. God knows aaaall the factors to consider surrounding his arrival–far more than I do–and that’s comforting. The boy will come when he comes.

This God–his way is perfect; the word of the Lord proves true; he is a shield for all those who take refuge in him. Psalm 18:30.