daily bread

Two things to be thankful for today. The first is that the lovely Junia slept through to an unprecedented 715am. Sadly my inner neurotic mother had me up at 6am to make sure she was still breathing. <sigh>. My body just isn’t used to uninterrupted sleep anymore.

The second thing is that jayber was ’sworn in’ (?) as an elder today in our fellowship. It’s not exactly a shocker considering the job he is doing there but it was lovely to see our wee community stand with him and affirm his gifts and welcome him into leadership.

The only question now is, can I still swear like a trooper now I’m an elders wife? hee hee.

I feel like I am just coming up for air.

She’s 3 months old now, my beautiful girl and it has been such an intense time. The pre-birth angst nearly consumed me and post-birth life didn’t get a whole lot easier. I guess I naively, perhaps superstitiously thought that number 3 would be easy. The boys weren’t easy babies so surely it was my turn for a contented one? Surely I deserved it?

Apparently not. Hands-down the worst of the 3 with horrendous colic and farts that could and did clear a room. Throw in some toddler wrestling and a constantly curious 5 year old and it was one hell of a summer. I’ve said, joking with some friends, ‘What were we thinking?’ about having a 3rd child but honestly, adorable and precious as she is there have been more than a few times that I seriously wondered if we had done the right thing. Because I don’t do well on the edge, on the knife edge of sanity, of coping. I can’t sustain living in chaos without knowing for sure that really ‘this too will pass’. I go too quickly to worst-case scenarios and imagine that the problems I face today will be here to stay for a long time.

So this post represents 3 months of thankfulness. Because all I could do in the middle of it was say ‘God help me today’ and then with less attitude and self-pity ‘God help me today. Please’.

And I’m here, in one piece. The baby didn’t get thrown across the room, the boys coped and even got played with occasionally. Her colic is almost gone now, Caleb has gone back to school and my days are starting to have a shape and rhythm to them again. I even cooked a new Jamie Oliver recipe last night so we really must be doing ok.

There is a verse somewhere in the good book that says ‘He gently leads those that have young’. I’m thankful for a God who enters my suffering with me, who answers my crys for help not often with a magic wand but with hands of compassion and mercy and a huge dollop of grace.

I am a bit of a mess, emotionally, spiritually.You who know my story understand why induction in this hospital fills me with such terror and will understand how desperately disappointed I am at losing my home birth tomorrow. These past few days have gone by in a blur of tears and frustration and more than a little rage toward the heavenlies. There are no easy answers to the questions I have or the pain and fear I feel right now and comfort is very hard to find never mind accept. My dear hubby, who has and is being tested beyond endurance by his inconsolable wife found this song by Rich Mullins and somehow it begins to help a little.

You who live in heaven
Hear the prayers of those of us who live on earth
Who are afraid of being left by those we love
And who get hardened by the hurt
Do you remember when You lived down here where we all scrape
To find the faith to ask for daily bread
Did You forget about us after You had flown away
Well I memorized every word You said
Still I’m so scared, I’m holding my breath
While You’re up there just playing hard to get

You who live in radiance
Hear the prayers of those of us who live in skin
We have a love that’s not as patient as Yours was
Still we do love now and then
Did You ever know loneliness
Did You ever know need
Do You remember just how long a night can get?
When You were barely holding on
And Your friends fall asleep
And don’t see the blood that’s running in Your sweat

Will those who mourn be left uncomforted
While You’re up there just playing hard to get?

And I know you bore our sorrows
And I know you feel our pain
And I know it would not hurt any less
Even if it could be explained
And I know that I am only lashing out
At the One who loves me most
And after I figured this, somehow
All I really need to know
Is if You who live in eternity
Hear the prayers of those of us who live in time
We can’t see what’s ahead
And we can not get free of what we’ve left behind
I’m reeling from these voices that keep screaming in my ears
All the words of shame and doubt, blame and regret
I can’t see how You’re leading me unless You’ve led me here
Where I’m lost enough to let myself be led

And so You’ve been here all along I guess
It’s just Your ways and You are just plain hard to get

So for the good news: 10.2 and homebirth is a go.

But we don’t want to give you that! It’s double or nothing in the Overdue Sweepstakes. You’ve got your homebirth but for a limited time only (did we mention that this offer runs out on Wednesday?), your baby is now posterior (crap position for labour) and your cervix is no more ready than the man in the moon?

Excellent. Ya think God is trying to address a few control issues?

Faith and trust start to feel bloody hard when you are staring down the barrel of induction. I’m sure others find comfort at times like this in the words of theologians, poets or perhaps even the bible. My current source of comfort is a little less highbrow – it’s Dory the blue fish from Finding Nemo. She can’t remember more than 7 seconds of what happens to her, doesn’t have the capacity to anticpate the problems that lie ahead and is accompanied by Marlin, the worlds most anxious clown fish.  So what’s her motto? ‘Just keep swimming, swimming, swimming’. That’s pretty much what I aspire to right now, to not have to be 5 steps ahead with solutions for every scenario or caught in a endless loop of  what ifs but  to keep in the present dealing with the now and just keep going.

It’s going to take a lot of prayer.

Somehow these past couple of weeks Coleraine, in spite of it’s inauspicious name has become waterproof. Despite forecasts for rain and rain in neighbouring towns it never seems to reach us. We’ve had glorious days of sunshine and what with all the changes to the garden this has meant spending most of my days on a sun lounger issuing commands to any small child or husband who will listen. I’m realising being very pregnant for the last time (really) should have it’s advantages and you gotta make it work for you. I’ve got over the 5-month-long nesting madness which has transformed our wee house and garden and now I just want to rest and wait and savour the calm bfore the storm. And at this stage a wee glass of wine in the sunshine can’t hurt, eh?

9.8. Damn close.

Funny now to be hoping baby is late so that they can squeeze another blood test in. Feeling surprisingly calm and chilled about the whole thing (I imagine that’s because half the planet have been praying this week). I can feel myself daring to trust Abba’s timing and his care for me. It’s good to exercise those faith muscles, they’d been getting a bit flabby and I just have a real sense of his gentleness toward me.

Got a wee bit of a shock last night when things started kciking off and I had 2 hours of cramping and contraction-y pains. You really do forget between births what it is like. I just wasn’t ready and wasn’t that keen on the midwife on-call for me so obedient child that she is she burrowed back in and went quiet. Phew. That’s the bad thing about having a list of all the midwives and their on-call times, you want to pick and choose when you go into labour.

So at the mo I’m downgraded from Home birth to Domino care. It’s like a halfway house where you call the midwife when you are in labour and she comes out to your house and you can stay there until you are quite close to delivering then it’s into hospital to deliver. Secretly I’m hoping not to call the midwife too early and maybe find that we may not have enough time to get round there. Is that very naughty?

My bet is wed/thursday this week for the birth. We shall see….

My midwife has just come and taken my blood so we can see if it has gone up. Results in this avo and I’m not sure which of us is more nervous – she knows how much I want a homebirth and will nearly be as disappointed as me if it isn’t above 10. I’m feeling peaceful about it, hands open for now. It’ll not be for want of trying – it’s been red meat every night this week plus iron tablets plus 2 different natural iron supplements plus acupuncture plus my entire church praying for 10.0. So if it isn’t 10, there’s probably a bloody good reason. The upside of all this iron is that I have more energy and less grumpiness.

Come wait with me a while and keep your fingers and toes crossed…….

Maybe it’s the vast quantities of iron, maybe the arrival of summer to the north coast, but things are looking up. Well, inside my head they are anyway and thats what counts. No baby, no updates on the blood count but in the middle of the watching and waiting a little more peace has descended. I’m thankful for the kick-ass sermon Jayber gave on Sunday about Penetecost that was inspiring and moving and well, just great (I am allowed to be biased), for the fun afternoon spent wtaching the boys discover how blood-curdlingly cold paddling on The Strand is and for the simple pleasure of my Mum’s gluten/dairy/sugar free apple crumble.

So the good news is that a wee blood test revealed the reason for all that grumpiness, breathlessness and tiredness. Hooray! I’m pretty anaemic which would be grand except that I am below the level that they allow you to have a home birth at. Boo hiss.

This is a body blow and I’d love to say I pulled on my big girl pants and was a trooper but no. I’m pretty devastated and holding on to the vague and unlikely hope that my blood will go from 9.2 to above 10 in the next week and that the baby will stay in there until then. I’m too tired to trust God’s plan in this, too weary to hang on to faith, almost too far gone to rage at the heavenlies but I’m managing to wave my little finger in disgust. Again, again the need to let go, to unfurl that fist full of plans and control and just let myself be carried. To allow trust be a passive verb rather than an active one.

I’ve been a grumpy wee so and so these past few days; I’m tired, I’m huge and I seem to keep grasping at things to fret over to keep the negativity nicely topped up. A grey cloud has settled on me and I wish it would piss off, not least because it’s taking it’s toll on my 3 boys. I was telling Caleb about how I was feeling and saying sorry for being a grumpy mummy, ‘That’s ok Mummy, I think when the baby comes out you’ll feel better’. I thought I’d better manage expectations by explaining that Mummy won’t be getting much sleep when the baby comes and still might be a wee bit grumpy at times. Bless, he’s very forgiving which is just as well.

Jayber is being his legendary supportive self although even he has had to send me to the naughty step a few times this week for my temper. Yikes.

So, I’m going to try a bit of thankfulness now, I need to remind myself that the reality of my circumstances are actually enormously better than my current capacity to enjoy them. So, today’s highlights in no particular order:

• watching Eli flirt with people in the hairdresser’s. Too cute.
• getting my hair done, bye bye roots, hello blondie
• listening to Caleb make up stories about his lego men and their body swapping
• the anticipation of a warm bath with the special bath stuff and a new novel, both bargains.

I’m off to get my minions (that’ll be the long-suffering Jayber) to run me a bath

(he even lights the candles for me, I think I’ll add him to the list)