a full back seat.

Three.  A whole backseat full.  I'm still trying to figure out what that means.  Jonathan and I spent the summer debating when would be right to dive into that scary abyss of "no turning back," also known in layman's terms as…3 kids.  For some reason that number to us said new things about every aspect of independence we had clung to as parents.  Not many people readily allow you to drop off your three kids for a while.  Since before we married we knew 3 was our minimum quota, but as we realized just how comfortable and thankful we were with our two, we started to get antsy about risking turning it upside down.  Many people told us the transition of one to two would be harrowing.  It wasn't.  Everything gelled like it had always been that way.  Because it was supposed to be.  Many have told us two to three was the real transition.  We were incredibly wishy-washy.  One day we would think, "Let's just jump in."  Another day we would consider postponing another year.  It really was a week to week, if not even day to day change of thought. 

Somehow we both landed on the same "why not?" page in July, and we consoled ourselves with the idea "what are the chances it really just happens so easily?"  After all, we knew so many couples that struggled with becoming pregnant and we weren't going to take anything for granted.  Then again, this is coming from the couple that were completely flabbergasted when "just once" rolled out a beautiful 7lb 4 oz being 5 years ago.

Apparently, for us (and let me add how genuinely, incredibly, grateful we are--truly!) it can happen quite easily--and has--twice now.  That's right.  We cooked up another one.  I really can't even believe that as I type it.  I woke up early the morning I was going to take a test, and as I stared at the two lines on the test I really just marveled.  How was I so privileged as to get to do this again?  I mean, I felt really truly humbled that the Lord would allow us the chance to participate in His creation again.  It took us a while to break the news, so the following are a collection of journal entries I wrote to capture how I was feeling through the first weeks of my pregnancy:

5 Weeks

We have known for a week now that our beautiful third child is growing in the secret.  She's not the only thing growing.  I've regained some of my real estate, if you know what I mean.  Anyway, one week in and I am really struggling to believe it.  It has been an interesting week for me emotionally and spiritually.  

It has taken me a full week to identify what I believe to be all of the factors playing into my take on this baby.  I had a small episode of spotting, which can be normal for many women, but since it didn't happen with Josiah I freaked out.  I had gone to the bathroom just before taking him to meet his teacher for the first time.  I discovered my fate with no time to react, so I put the kids in the car, headed to our appointment, and tried to listen and smile at his teacher while I thought, "I can't believe I'm losing my baby."  I pressed on toward normal as we headed for errands at Target, my heart low in my chest.  I stopped by the bathroom to assess the situation and I was shocked to see that the tiny bit of blood hadn't turned into anything more during our meeting.  Oh, but it would I was sure.  No.  Nothing more.  

That episode took the wind out of my sails.  This pregnancy hadn't shocked us like the last one did.  I had been dreaming of telling everyone in fun ways.  Now I just was hoping to make it one more day without any more blood.  One day turned into two, and two into three.  Now we are a full 5 days past it, and I still find myself shocked when I don't find any red during a trip to the bathroom.  Every single time I look at my underwear in awe, and then shrug my shoulders in mystery.  Typing this out makes me realize just how much that itty bitty spotting took a toll on me.

I have also realized I carry more emotional baggage than I realized from the failed matches in our adoption process.  I have been so incredibly grateful for those failed matches in light of my daughter that it was hard to remember why they were so bad anyway.  I can only see them retrospectively and how wonderful it is that the Lord intervened to ensure our sweet girl would make it home.  What I have come to realize is the failed matches poised me for disappointment in the wait for a child and that same guarded spirit is trying to sneak in now as we anticipate the arrival of a completely different child.  I had braced myself for disappointment, even anticipated it in order to cope with each scenario.  Now, I find myself bracing in the same way.  I'm suffering from the "if it seems too good to be true then it probably is" complex.  What a bad mentality to have in light of the goodness I know in our Father God.  He has given us so many good gifts that are too good to be true, and yet they are our reality.

The third thing playing into my hesitation is my experience as a nurse.  Sometimes you just have seen too much to feel like "normal" would just happen to you.

Yet when I go to the Lord in the still, quiet place I hear Him plead with my heart, "You are going to carry this baby to April.  She is going to come."  Oh, to trust Him more.  I keep saying to myself, "I trust Him with the outcome, I just have a hard time trusting in the wait."  It's the unknown I have a hard time trusting.  I can't seem to just rest in the fact that He knows and I don't have to.  

So here I am, hesitant to tell people about the secret within me as if someone sharing in my joy will doom it to an end.  I scour my journal from Josiah's pregnancy to try to remember if this is how I felt with him.  I press my chest to ensure the tenderness is still there.  I smile every time I have to pee too much.  I delight in the fact that I have a new unquenchable thirst for water.  I sit in awe when my underwear is all the same color...still.  And I wait.  I try to forget, and I wish the weeks will pass quickly and I will just have the chance to see this little bambino doing her thing on an ultrasound soon.

8 weeks

Somehow the weeks have crawled by and I have made it a full more month into the joy of growing a person.  Today I feel like doing nothing.  That's hard to do when you have two small children and a multiplying to-do list.  I still might escape with doing as little on the list as possible without feeling guilty.

Many days I just have to force myself to get up and going about whatever I must do.  I would much rather sit on the couch and stare at the wall, fighting the nausea by just sitting still.  Josiah has been wonderful about accommodating a Mommy daily nap, something that hadn't been a part of my routine for quite some time.  I'm not scared of that big box of a babysitter hanging on my wall that cares for him in such times.  I don't once feel bad or question whether he will grow up well adjusted.

Some days I feel mostly normal.  Those days are few and far between.  Most days I have nausea.  All day.  Apparently, I have a pretty good stomach because I find myself dry heaving over the toilet--pleading with my body to just purge that unquenchable nausea that follows me into my sleep.  It doesn't relent.  The nausea pushes on and my body finds no relief from the heaving.  This is so different than last time.  I don't want to eat many things at all.  All of my favorites are off of the table.  I'm a little surprised how many of my aversions are similar to the ones I had with Josiah.  Absolutely no sweets.  I will definitely leave the room if there is pizza in the vicinity.  These two things are oddly familiar.  Unfortunately, this round is worse.  No hummus, no guacamole.  Very little fruit, no yogurt.  Definitely no raw veggies.  I just want cheese and crackers and a big cup of juice.  I keep a roll of saltines in my purse and at my bedside.  I also keep an emergency juice box in both places.  I don't have these things usually.  I don't feel bad about carb loading.  This is survival mode, and I'm not even scared to do what it takes.  Rob my bones if you must, baby, but I can't eat those nutritious things right now.  

I can't cook anymore.  I definitely can't spend any length of time in the grocery store.  If I can garner the courage to pass through their doors, I find myself praying by aisle 4 I can make it out without losing myself over the floor.  I cover my face as my coughs turn into gags and my body lurches in repulsion to so much food.  So much nasty, smelly food.  My family has informed me they are starving.  Actually, that I am starving them.  Apparently, canned soup of your choice is not a suitable dinner.  I can't seem to understand why.  Jonathan might have purchased an all-you-can-eat for a month card at Subway if such thing existed.  He would have paid for it 4 times over by now.  If this nausea passes at the same time as my ailment with Josiah did, then I have two more weeks before I will feel normal.  I can do anything for two weeks.  I don't expect this to be free of inconveniences.  Growing a baby is hard work.  It's a privilege, and I'm grateful to be doing such important things from the horizontal view my couch offers.

11 Weeks  

I think I'm slowly recovering from my non-productive, nauseated state.  Slowly.  This is after celebrating week 10 with my first actual vomiting session after a very turbulent flight.  I love roller coasters, usually.  Some days I feel mostly normal, but just when I begin to think it might be over I get slammed by another night of nausea and the inability to eat anything of true substance.  I am feeling worse at night time, so I'm trying to anticipate it by cooking dinner at lunch time.  It's an improvement that I can do anything in the kitchen this week.  More nights than not, I find myself reluctantly pushing the food into my mouth until I can't possibly eat another bite without running from the table.  So much for being over this by last week.

13 Weeks 

This one has been an adventure.  My nausea resolved last week, which was quite refreshing for everyone in our family.  Josiah said we should just buy a magic potion of medicine to make the baby sick go away.  Jonathan readily agreed.  They never came across it, but apparently just wishing for the reprieve was enough for them to have their way.  I'm now capable of cooking and perusing the grocery store, which feels like a luxury after so long.  I have also realized how much I used to get accomplished in those hours I spent on the couch.  I have been amazed at how much I can get done in one day when I am fully functional.  All good things.  Then, early this week I sensed something wasn't quite right.  I explained my concerns to my midwife, and when I had a check up a couple of days later she confirmed my fears.  My uterus is naturally tilted backward, which isn't a problem usually…except it had gotten stuck that way.  Rather than pulling forward as it should have around 10-12 weeks, it had progressively fallen further backward until it was just shy of upside down.  She sent me home with instructions on exercises to practice diligently to encourage it to move forward.  

As I researched my condition, which happens to 1 in 3000 women, my heart faltered.  The words "second trimester loss" and "premature birth" haunted me.  They chased me in circles as I petitioned the Lord for my baby.  I felt as if my body was failing my baby, which while uncontrollable seemed a heavier burden to carry than a spontaneous loss.  I spent a considerable amount of time with my bottom in the air, broken before the Lord.  I was desperate for resolution and the chance to dig deep in the pockets of the Lord's lovingkindness.  He was so faithful to answer me.  Two days after my diagnosis, my uterus flipped into proper position with a little encouragement.  

My belly and my heart were instantly full.  My stomach ached from the melon I just slammed into my intestines without the courtesy of a gradual relocation.  I looked quite a bit more pregnant when it wasn't hiding in my backside.  I was so thankful for the kindness of the Lord to restore my body and make provision for His creation growing in me.  All of the emotions I felt confirmed several things: 1) This baby is a treasure worth fighting for, and 2) The Lord is kind and cares for His children.

15 Weeks

I felt the baby move for the first time yesterday.  I have felt it once or twice since then, but I suspect it will take another week or so until I feel it consistently.  

16 Weeks
I feel much larger than I was the first time around, so I was shocked when I put a picture of myself at 16 weeks with Josiah side by side with present time and saw the difference isn't significant.  I am carrying this baby very differently than with Josiah.  My belly is much higher and the shape is different.  I feel the baby move once or twice a day.  It's a very addictive feeling.  I love it!

18 Weeks
The baby moves quite a bit now.  My belly is expanding and I am very clearly pregnant.  I'm not much larger than I was the first time.  We find out this week what it is.  I'm quite excited.  I am 100% convinced it's a girl.  I told Jonathan it will be the greatest surprise of my life if it's a boy.  He thinks I'm kidding.  I'm not.  Watch for yourself and see who's inside...