Thin is Out.

I think it was the day after I had Ezra, and I had the opportunity to sleep on my stomach for the first time in like 5 months, and I was at the very least automatically ten pounds lighter (which doesn't sound like much, but you feel it in your bones). I told Stephen, "I never want to complain about my weight again!"

Because, well, truth: I get down on myself about the way I look. I'm sure that's not a shocking and foreign concept to most of us, male or female. I really hate that, too. I've even written about it before. At Joelle and David's wedding this weekend, I had the opportunity to "dance" (read: jump around manically) again, and it felt SO GOOD! I missed being able to actually move without all that weight sticking out on my stomach.

But already, I'm disappointed that I didn't meet my 6 week weight loss goal (though I haven't been doing too much about it, honestly, other than sporadic tummy tightening exercises and the rare walk). And I'm disappointed that I'm not closer to fitting into my old clothes. And I'm just disappointed in the way I look.

Who is NOT disappointed in the way they look? ISN'T THIS RIDICULOUS?!? Most of us look completely fabulous. And probably everyone reading this has at least one person who really loves them, no matter how much muffin top they sport.

In other areas I'm pretty good about not comparing myself to other girls. [if you're a guy reading this, I'll let you in on a little secret: most girls, when they go to the beach or the mall or wherever, spend a whoooole lot more time looking at other girls than looking at boys. Often, our appearance is more of an effort to conform into the society of other women than to attract you.] I think it's either from me feeling like I'm pretty great in an area, or I'm so hopelessly behind that it's not worth comparing.

But with thinness specifically (cause my face is pretty free of any real abnormalities; I feel pretty good about it), I have to consciously think to not feel good or bad about myself based on who's around me (I mean, vigilant. It's an automatic thing at this point).

And the weirdest part is how much I internalize it - no outward judging or jealousy, just either an "oh, I'm doing okay" or "man, I should look like that woman, but I don't. What is wrong with me?" This internalizing is a weird thing for me because I'm a very external person. It's also very frustrating to try an reason with myself that I don't have much business looking like an 18 year old freshman at 6 weeks postpartum. I wouldn't expect that of any woman I know. But me.

I've talked enough for now. I know this problem is a lot my fault and a lot my environment (America). I just NEED to get this under control if I'm going to work with college students and be in a college church long term. Cause college students don't get any older and, by and large, they don't have post-baby bodies. But I sure do, and I'll be 26 next month.

Baby?

No, not yet. I'll try to find time to announce it when he does come.

BUT WEEEEE'RE READY! Ahem, as ready as we're gonna get, I mean. I would feel more comfortable if we had some semblance of a name picked out. :-) But I suppose that's what makes life fun - not knowing until you're required to. And by fun I mean fun if your personality is like mine.

I am nervous about laboring without any medication. I'm not normally the type of person to willingly make myself uncomfortable. Under any circumstances. But my hope is that I will discover that this body God gave me is not "a lemon," that it can do one of the most important (to me) things it's supposed to do: make babies and birth them. I'm not sure this will result, but I'm hoping it'll help me turn another corner on this whole seeing-myself-accurately thing.

I'm glad we're having a boy this time, because I don't feel ready to lead a girl in how to navigate America. But I would like sometime to have a girl, and I'd also like to feel more freedom in being who I am, inside and out. The truth is, this body ain't so bad; it takes times like being hugely pregnant for me to realize that my non-pregnant body's actually pretty great. I can dance around and walk well and quickly. I can sleep on my stomach and my back. I may not be graceful, but my body generally does what I ask it to. And there are plenty of times I really do feel attractive and like my body. I don't want to get back in the habit of putting it down just because it's not a size two and only skin, bones, organs, muscles, tendons, and ligaments.

I know I won't be back in my normal jeans the day after he arrives (I've gained enough weight to KNOW that it's not all from Little Bit), but I don't care (for now). I just can't wait to be able to sleep on my stomach again, and not have my ribs aching all day. And, relatively soon after, to have my stomach not be the first thing people see as I round the corner! I know I'm vain, but at least I'm honest about it. In the meantime, you can pray for me. ;-)

Cute!

About a week ago, I woke up and went to the bathroom (every pregnant woman's routine). I noticed a bottle of sparkling grape juice on the floor (I bought a few bottles after New Year's when they were on sale for our baby's birth day party).
I found this odd.

When I asked Stephen why there was a bottle of grape juice on the bathroom floor, he told me (hehe!) that he'd been working out his arms to be able to carry our baby around without getting tired (hehehe), and we didn't have any dumbbells.

Cute, right?

This I Know. . . Sometimes.

I know a lot of people read my last blog post. Please don't be alarmed or concerned. I promise I'm not miserable with my life. I'm just kind of dramatic, especially when I'm down.

Still, I wanted to give you an update. Friday afternoon, I was given a little lamby for the baby. It has a wind-up part on the side that tinkles "Jesus Loves Me." It also moves its head around slowly, which really freaks out our little dog, Django. So I was winding it up and watching him react (doing the sniff-run away dance) and thinking, half-absent-mindedly, through the lyrics.

And it hit me. I'm still a "little one." It doesn't really matter that I'm about to have a little one myself. I don't think Jesus expects for me to stop being weak some time. I don't think it's going to happen, regardless. I am a human. I'm really weak. And that's why I need Jesus to be strong for me. I don't need to have the answers or know what's going on in my life or even be able to handle tomorrow. I just need to rest in the truth that Jesus really, really loves me.

And I felt so much better. It reminds me of parenting books I've been reading - it seems like maturation with children is not really like an elevator, where they go to one floor, hang out there for a bit, and then ride the elevator up to the next floor. It sounds like it's a lot more nebulous, where they'll be making strides in one area and kind of regressing in others. Where something may trigger them to need to be taken care of as if they were younger.

A) I want to be the kind of parent that is okay with where my child is at in maturity at that moment. He may be four and acting like a two year old. It's not my job to make him be the most mature four year old at all times. I think, I mean I don't know, but I think it's more my job to meet the needs he's presenting to me as much like Jesus would as possible. Because, honestly,
B) Jesus doesn't get upset or disappointed with me when I have a day where I act like I'm two years old in the Lord, even though I'm really five and a half. He knows how to lovingly walk with me where I am. He knows me. He knows He'll be faithful to complete the good work He began in me. And He really is pleased with me, all the time. I know God wished for me to be born and to live and to be me, because He told me so, and my whole life shows that to be true.

So I've been feeling a lot better since then. I didn't really realize that there are lies I'm believing, and I'm still trying to get to the root of "what my circumstances are saying about me." But I think figuring out I'm being stung is a pretty important step to eradicating the hornets. For now, I'm just resting.

Pensees

No, I'm not reviewing Pascal. I'm trying to collect my own thoughts.

The truth is, when I went on staff in Feb 2010, I didn't think I would still be raising support a year later. But, unless God works many miracles, that will be the case. I also didn't think I would still be raising support at the time of the birth of our first baby (sometime in late Feb/early March). But that will also be the case. What this practically means is, I will have a 6 week old and be coming back to work, not to do campus ministry, but to do the ministry of raising funds.

For those of you unfamiliar to the process of raising recurring support, it requires a couple of things of you: seed money, because it costs money to travel and to send letter updates and thank you notes and such. It requires a list of people to call. It also requires time - time to call people to see if they can meet, time to meet with them, often including time to drive to where they are, time to follow up with them, time to keep bugging them until they give you an answer, time to update them on what's going on with the ministry and how you're doing, etc. Another thing it requires is energy. Emotional energy, because it's kind of hard to call twenty people you don't know 5 nights a week and try to be clear and friendly. It takes energy to see how the Lord is providing and how His people are extensions of His love and goodness when... when honestly it can feel dangerously like nobody cares. It even takes energy just to remember who to be contacting when, or to remember to put it into the program that tells you who to contact and when.

So. We don't have a lot of extra money, since we're having a child in a few short weeks. I don't have people to talk to (I should amend that to say we have I believe 9 people we have information for that we haven't gotten a hold of yet). I don't have a lot of time, as I'm trying to get the house ready to welcome a tiny new person and an incredible change in our whole lives; I'm also helping with ministry things because it helps me feel like a real person and they need help. I also can't travel right now by myself because the thought makes me nervous, but it freaks my husband out. And emotionally, I'm just currently drained and disappointed. It's not like we're close to finishing my support. We're actually still $2,000 away. Which feels like a big number.

If you put yourself in my shoes, you might be feeling "kind of" discouraged. You might be feeling "a little" overwhelmed at having to juggle a tiny baby, a husband, a homegroup, and a difficult, draining job. You might be crying a lot. You might feel disappointed that you worked hard and didn't see what you'd hoped.

I know I'm complaining. I know my complaining doesn't change anything. I just needed to get it off my chest. I don't know how the next three months are going to look, but I feel pretty done with hoping that the Lord would swoop in and do mighty things that would make this not suck. I feel like a rag doll. I got nothin' left, but I'm here. I have nowhere to go but to Jesus.

So this year's word of the year (thanks, Beth, for the idea) is rest. Because, because it's what I need, and rest only comes from faith that God is who He says He is. Even when I don't even know what that means.