A short guide to pregnancy.

First trimester:

Welcome to your first trimester! This is the period when you are still small, but you're too sick to do anything about it. All day morning sickness coupled with extreme fatigue and rotating emotions make you a real treat for your spouse or significant other.

You also become something of a conversationalist with dialogue resembling this:

Expecting mother: Can you please hand me the... Uhh... Ummm... Uhh... Rectangle...
Husband: Cereal?
EM: Yes, sorry... My brain is... Uhh... What's the word?
H: Mush?
EM: Yes, that's it!

There is a tiered system of discomfort within your pregnancy with your third and first trimesters battling it out for most miserable, and your second trimester shimmering as a shiny beacon of hope giving you no warning for the nearly unbearable final trimester.

Second trimester:
Your second trimester presents you with a burning star of energy. Between your second trimester and your nesting period, you are somehow able to finish the baby's room, the novel you have been working on for five years, and solve most of the world's problems. Basically, you have a belly but you just don't care. Nothing hinders you.

Third trimester:

Hello darkness, my old friend.

What discomfort don't you have in your final trimester? What happened to your boundless energy, calm stomach and ability to sleep? Gone away.

Here we have acid reflux, heartburn, fatigue, constipation, inability to sleep, shortness of breath, irritability, baby feet jammed under your ribs, heat spells, head aches, nose bleeds, trouble standing up and sitting down, Braxton hicks...

Sure some of these symptoms appear in the second trimester but they take on a more sinister approach in the final one.

Dday

The day arrives when you go to the hospital and a variety of things can happen from c-sections, twenty hours or labor, four hours of pushing, many many painful things, and for many of us, an epidural... And at the end of all that...

You will hold in your arms a person whom you will be hopelessly in love with for the rest of your life, and by the time your next child is conceived, the difficulties of your first pregnancy will be softened in your memory giving you the resolve to once again sojourn onward.

Yes, we are expecting baby #3 sometime at the end of February! Yep, this is our birth announcement.  (Written in my 7th week. You're welcome).

And so it goes...

And so it goes.

            Ned has graduated. 51 weeks. Check.

            And we begin a new chapter of our life. Tonight we are going to look at a house that may be our new home. I have been very anxious over this move. No house seems like home and all feel like a commitment that I am not ready to make. I have been praying day and night for clarity. The other day Finn woke me up at 4:30 in the morning and I stayed up for the next three hours paying bills and filing our taxes. These are the actions of a woman who does not “have it all together.”

            Recently my father has been diagnosed with leukemia. It was a revelation that seemed to come out of nowhere as he was not experiencing (or possibly not realizing) any of the usual symptoms. I guess if there is one person I would consider a rock steady constant in my life (besides my husband), it would be my Dad. He is the type of person who loves just about everyone and approaches life from a practical and calm place. His faith in God is steady and his sacrifice for his family is constant. He’s the type of Dad who can sit in the grass with you and listen to the crickets and talk about life and you feel well, I guess the best word is safe. Even as a 27-year-old if I find myself reeling over something I will often call my Dad for consolation and advice. I really hope that he’s around for a long time so my kids can benefit from his influence. He’s that kind of Dad.

            It breaks my heart that he will need to endure the next few months (or more?) of chemotherapy. And it breaks my heart that my parents are never given straight answers – possibly because there are none. It does not surprise me that my Dad is approaching all of this gracefully and patiently. He told me that it pains him the most that everyone else is worried about him.

            

            31 What, then, shall we say in response to these things? If God is for us, who can be against us? 32 He who did not spare his own Son, but gave him up for us all—how will he not also, along with him, graciously give us all things? Romans 8: 31-32

            and…

            37 No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. 38 For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, 39 neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord. Romans 8:37-39

            So I guess that whether we live here in our little house next to Yellow Creek, or in a house with a large garden plot and 2,500sq, or a house in a little development, or a house right on the street in a run-down coal town, that we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. And I pray for peace like this for my parents and for my mother who would definitely be caught paying the bills in the middle of the night – or watching the news – to each his own.

            Thank you Lord for loving us and loving me even though I am anxious over many things.

Amen.

            

And so it goes.

            

One day more.

I will again be with my husband in one more day. I think Les Mis sums up my thoughts better than I can right now.

How can I live when we are parted?

One day more.

Tomorrow you'll be worlds away

And yet with you, my world has started!

One more day all on my own.

Will we ever meet again?

One more day to revolution...

I will join these little schoolboys.

One day to a new beginning

Raise the flag of freedom high!

Every man will be a king

Every man will be a king

There's a new world for the winning

There's a new world to be won!

Tomorrow we'll discover

What our God in Heaven has in store!

You can watch it here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZNDi9URMBoU

Field Training 2012

I thought field training would kill me. 

I loved taking these pictures.

Jack loved Ned's hat.

Finny was so little.

How to improve your foxhole

There’s nothing surprising to me about this but I HATE transition periods of my life. I like comfort. I like knowing where my home is. I like knowing people. I like knowing what to expect. I like not having to get used to a new bathroom. Well, right now God has us in a transition period of life. He is streeettching my family – and probably me most of all. When Ned first started at RLSC one of the other cadets told him that he needed to be constantly improving his foxhole. In other words, he needed to make the best of his situation and make it as cozy as possible while he was there. I decided to glean from that advice. I also found an issue of Army Talk circa 1945 that should help. You can read the full version here: http://www.90thidpg.us/Reference/Army%20Talks/foxhole.pdf

Here’s some ideas I have for making the best of my foxhole.

The article begins: To date no way has been found to turn a foxhole into a cozy suite at the Waldorf.

What I’ve learned: Don’t have high expectations that things are going to be perfectly cozy over the next few months.

Dig First…Improve Later -- Three rules to remember…1. Dig deep. 2. Tunnel under. 3. Build a strong roof.

In other words, even if this is temporary, it doesn’t mean that we should do things halfway. This is not a useless time of growth in our lives, and we shouldn’t respond to it weakly.

Snow Trails Must be Hidden – When there is snow on the ground, it’s necessary to pay particular attention to tracks. Brush them over carefully so a trail leading to your hideout won’t be visible from the air.

We must be careful to be vigilant. People are watching our actions even now, when we are feeling most vulnerable. The most important of these people are under three feet tall. We should still take the time to be kind and patient and be an example.

No soldier is going to worry much about his appearance while he is at the front. But just because you can’t be bothered with haircuts and shaves and shoe shines doesn’t mean you should live like an animal. A man’s morale gets a real lift when he occasionally sponges the dirt off his hands and face.

For goodness’ sakes, Hannah. Please don’t stop showering.

Baby Your Feet – At this stage in the game it shouldn’t be necessary to remind a soldier that he can’t get far in battle if he neglects his feet.

I think this is clear. I need to go to a spa.

Three Squares A Day – There’s not much variety to foxhole meals…You get pretty tired of the same thing diet day after day…The Army’s rations are planned by experts to give you well-balanced nourishment. All the vitamins and other food essentials you need to keep fit and healthy are there…Pet peeve of many soldiers is the lemonade powder. Actually this is one of the most important foods in the package…[it gives] you the vitamin C that every man needs every day.

Don’t grow weary in well doing. We still may have to continue our mundane tasks in the midst of selling our house, moving our things, and buying a new house, but even these things are beneficial to our growth. (No matter how much that toddler bed feels like lemonade powder to me right now.)

That’s the story. That’s the round-up of tips from foxhole veterans at the front. Some of these hints may not apply to you just now. Some of them may help make your life at the front a little less dangerous, a little less miserable.

You just love them.

Jack one summer/fall day. Age 2.

 And so I lay my son back down in his crib with mismatched jammies because he peed (not pooped thank God) through his pants. He’s been waking up during the night for the past few nights because he has been having poo problems (I use this euphemism partly because it is less gross and partly because I can’t spell dihareeeeaaa).

His butt is on fire and every time I change his diaper he tells me it hurts because now he can talk and tell me things like “I sad” when he is crying. I feel like my heart is being ripped out when my little self-aware two-year-old tells me he’s sad in the midst of his tears. I take him to the kitchen and give him some Tylenol and get him some Gatorade, which he thinks is juice, and I pick him up and he says, “Thank you, Momma.” This makes me want to bottle his sweetness and treasure it forever.

Photo Credit: NDK Jack one winter day. Age 2.

Jack and I one summer day. Age 9 months or so.

Finn one winter day. Age 7 months.

When just about any sickness comes into my home I end up calling my doctor’s office. I am sure they think I am some kind of idiot because I have phone anxiety as it is and they only answer the phone about a fourth of the time. The other three fourths of the time it goes to an answering machine. So it’s kind of like Russian roulette with whether or not you’re going to talk to a real person. In those times when the nurse comes on the phone I instantly start to blunder, “Uhhh uhhh, my name is Hannah and I am calling about my son Jack. He’s ummmm….he’s two…. And he um, I called yesterday. He has had the poops (only I actually say dihaareeaaa because it would be really stupid to say the poops to a professional). I always assume that they have so many patrons that they won’t remember who I am, when in reality the nurse is probably like, “Oh, here is the weekly call from that frantic mother who thinks that an antibiotic can cause mouth sores and rice cereal makes a baby puke…”

Being a parent kind of makes you a little insane. Suddenly all of your Facebook profile pictures are of someone else and your daily conversation topic is what color/consistency/frequency your kid’s bowel movements are. You are endlessly folding tiny clothes, laughing at Ming Ming’s adorable voice, wondering what could be so exciting about reading a book of pictures labeled “excavator, giant excavator, dump truck…

But the thing is, you really truly are 100% in your kid’s corner. If you could be the one with the sore bum, you would be. If you have to go out in the middle of the night to get gas relief drops for your baby (even though they may not really do anything), you’ll do it. Will you take your kid to the ER only to be told nothing is wrong? Of course. Will you feel defensive when someone else doesn’t recognize your child’s genius? Absolutely. And though you will fail as a parent, say hurtful things, give bad advice, tell them things that aren’t true (even though you think it is), one thing will remain true: you have your kid’s back and you would literally fight a bear to protect them. Kind of puts a little perspective on Matthew 7:11, doesn’t it?

Jack one winter day. Photo credit NDK. Age 2.

Notes to a Husband Away: Why I Fell in Love or How I Met Your Father

Writers like to remember everything. We’re detail people. We can only see the big picture when it is made up of lots of little pictures. And we like to capture those little pictures into words to read again and again. And to remember.

Tomorrow is Ned and my fourth wedding anniversary. We’ve known each other for more than 20 years. That’s 4/5’s of our lives. I have many memories of Ned. Some funny ones. Some serious ones. Some he’d probably rather I didn’t remember. But who would have known all those years of watching each other go through childhood, awkward (especially me) teenage years, independent college years – that we were actually developing into each other’s greatest companions. If I had to choose one person in my life who has allowed me to be myself – it would be him.

I am reminded as I sit here of the reasons that I fell in love with Ned. I don’t want these memories to slip away as our anniversaries pile up. So while they’re still within my memory’s reach I am going to write some of them down. So I can look back in anniversary futures and remember…

Why I fell for Ned.

1.       He read (or attempted to read) the books that I recommended. Like Franny and Zooey and “A Perfect Day for Bananafish,” The Things They Carried and The Princess Bride.

2.       He watched Mary Poppins with me and I wanted him to hold my hand.

3.       Even before we were anything more than friends to each other he sent me silly text messages and a horse brush while I was in Montana.

4.       He wore cowboy boots.

5.       He could drive a tractor.

6.       He was good to his family and really cared about his brothers.

7.       He was pretty good at playing football. And looked pretty cute when he played. And he let me play too.

8.       His mother had horses.

9.       He was not arrogant or aggressive. Or overly flirty.

10.                                 He had dark hair.

11.                                 He could use a chainsaw.

12.                                 He had nothing against making snow angels and going sled riding and walking around at night on snowy sidewalks.

13.                                 He was a gentleman.

14.                                 He was an outdoorsman.

15.                                 He talked to me about the Bible and God and the grand things that are out of our natural scope of understanding.

16.                                 He was a dreamer who thirsted for adventure and seeing new places. We were going to go all over the world.

17.                                 He visited me in Montana.

18.                                 He took a class about Africa to spend more time with me.

19.                                 He had a blue jacket that I thought was the most attractive piece of clothing a man could wear (besides the cowboy boots).

20.                                 He was a hard worker.

21.                                 He was very kind and had a natural patience with people.

22.                                 He read my stories.

23.                                 He took beautiful photographs.

24.                                 He was sometimes unsure of himself in a way that made me fall to pieces. I thought he was so endearing.

25.                                 He had good taste in movies and music.

26.                                 He walked me home from work and helped me make Thursday night dinners.

27.                                 He was really stubborn.

28.                                 He drove a truck.

29.                                 He wanted to have children.

30.                                 He put me in my place even though it made me mad.

31.                                 He went on a backpacking trip in the middle of winter with my brothers and friends and we sang songs with BenBen on the way back down the Laurel Highlands trail.

32.                                 He was intuitive.
33.                    I liked his humor.

34.                                 He loved God.

Go dig up your time capsule and the blueprints for your rocket

“You have brains in your head. You have feet in your shoes. You can steer yourself any direction you choose. You're on your own. And you know what you know. And YOU are the one who'll decide where to go...” – Dr. Seuss – Oh the Places You’ll Go

         Ned’s training is coming to an end and I am filled with so many emotions and so many thoughts. I’m ready for this portion of our life to begin. I am ready for my husband to be part of our family. And yet, I’m anxious for the changes. I have been relatively on my own for the past 10 months. I’ve etched out a different kind of life with the boys and without Ned home. I tend to be comfortable with whatever is normal – and the current normal is Ned spending more time away than he does at home. In fact, that has been our normal since Jack was born – though not quite so distant as now.

            There are some things that changed while Ned was away. For one, I am really fast at mowing the lawn – and not too bad at it, either. Finn was born and I learned to take care of two kids primarily by myself. I learned to ask people for help and I developed some friendships that I really cherish – some friendships that I may have been too shy to start while Ned was home. I can go grocery shopping with one kid wrapped to my body and the other chomping on McDonald’s fries. When the kids go to bed, the time is entirely my own. I can write, grade papers, draw pictures, watch stupid TV shows. I learned how to replace the drain stop in the tub (I was so proud that I wanted to post pictures of it on facebook, but I didn’t). I take care of the vehicles – the oil changes, the inspections, the repairs. I order the oil for the furnace. I decide if and when the kids need to go to the doctor. I’ve hosted a bon-fire, caregroup and countless girl’s nights. The boys determine a lot of my life – but after that, the decisions are all mine to make.

            These months of limbo are difficult. Will we stay here? Will we move? My adventurous side wants to see new areas and meet new people. My daughter side wants to stay put.

            I will be twenty-seven in a few months and I am determining what kind of woman I want to be. I am determining what I may want to do with my life; Who I want to be. What I want to accomplish. I am constantly trying to gain perspective on what I am doing now – what benefit I am now to my family, my world, my God. Wondering if I am doing enough both for God and for my own fulfillment. Wondering what is really important and what is selfish. Wondering what God is going to do with all of this independence that has been built up over the past year and more.