a new storm. . .

The madness of work and academia is gradually subsiding. This is my final week of grad school prior to Jonah’s arrival, and next Friday is my last day of work until January 5th. On one hand, I sigh- greatly relieved, yet on the other I cringe. The impending calm seems indicative of the coming of a new storm. . . one that is unfamiliar and unpredictable. . . Time is ticking, and I'm more aware than ever that in these days I must actively prepare to survive the inevitable rigors and challenges of parenthood, yet I’m not sure where to begin. My mind is spinning with the responsibility of nurturing new life. During the months preceding this one, I’ve sensed an overwhelming empowerment of the Divine and a subsequent confidence, expectancy and joy. Yet, during the past week I’ve been filled with doubt, primarily centered upon my ability and resources. The uncharted waters ahead beckon the deepest parts of me. . . my greatest longings, yet fear rises in response, crashing and thundering my soul. I long for the breath and warmth of this life that grows within me, for the day when, alas, he settles into my arms and nuzzles at my breast, yet an awareness of the technicalities preceding his arrival loom 'round me. I have nothing for him but love (and a few adorable outfits his dad and I couldn't resist). . . no bed, no diapers, no changing table, no car seat. . . not a blanket or stroller. . . the list is seemingly endless. These things will come, I know, but then there's labor and delivery and breastfeeding. The horror stories of dozens ring loudly in my brain, threatening my rose colored (prayerful) fantasy. Questions spawned by their stories torment me. . . c-sections and babies that can't latch, practically starving to death. . . What if this is my reality? What if the experiences I've hoped and prayed for are never mine? What if I can't . . . if he can't . . . What if?

Our Fetal Doppler. . . :)

Allen and I have been completely fascinated by Jonah’s floundering in my belly lately, so we decided to purchase a Fetal Doppler to more closely monitor his movements and heart rate. We used it for the first time last night. . . My chest swelled with emotion as I heard him sloshing about and detected the rhythm of his heart, but the most captivating moment of all was listening to Jonah's heart race when his daddy began speaking to him. I had read that fetuses biologically react to familiar sounds and tones, even to light. That proved true through our Doppler. . . How amazing! How miraculous!!

Oh, Christmas Tree . . .

Thanksgiving 2008

1st Stop:
Allen's parents house for a Ferguson style celebration. . .

2nd Stop:
Nannie and Pa's house to celebrate with the Green's. . .

Final Stop:
Uncle Mike and Aunt Lisa's to party with the Willis Clan . . .

Listening to Jonah

through a Fisher Price stethoscope . . . :)

childlike euphoria. . .

The essence of Jonah continues to unleash a flood of childlike euphoria in my soul. I have penned ramblings of this order in prior posts but feel compelled to expound as I am desperate to contain the sensitivity and vibrancy of this season, fearing it will pass. . . assured it will pass (as all seasons do).

I have squandered many months and years breathlessly climbing from one rung of expectation to the next on an illusionary ladder of success. Some steps were seemingly imposed by society, several were self-inflicted, and still others were riddled with traces of the Divine. The dagger of perfectionism drove me onward and upward and taunted me with whispers of gloom. Day after day, I fixed my eyes on one rung after another while simultaneously wrestling the insecurity that threatened to cripple my climb. This mad and furious striving appeared to me as light and goodness. . . as the adoption of all things “adult,” and though contentment was seldom found, I was assured that it was waiting to embrace me in the tomorrows lying just beyond temporal sacrifice. I was unaware that every moment of this mad dash to novel heights was suffocating my senses and reddening my world with shades of gray. . . until Jonah.

Amidst the fury of striving, I stumbled through a corridor of serenity, into the sparkle and substance of my dreams. . . Jonah. His life and innocence now spills into my veins, reawakening my senses, allowing me to once again perceive the magnificence of the world around me . . . even on misty and overcast mornings like this one.

Where once the rain seemed like an intrusive force against me, it has become (in these days) an invitation to slow my breath and pace. The water shed from clouds of gray lures me into its grace while saturating my skin in the luminosity and radiance of God. I inhale these drops of majesty with wonder in my eyes and watch as they dance on the vibrant shades of towering trees . . . red, yellow and orange. . . seemingly celebrating their beauty before winter’s slumber.

This keen sensitivity and awareness has not halted my climb. I continue to strive toward greater heights, but my motivation has been renewed. No longer does fulfillment and reward linger in tomorrow. It is here and now. . . in this moment (and in the next). May I continue to see and smell and taste the wonder of God in the present, absorbing traces of his divinity every step of the journey.

on the brink of 25 weeks

Jonah and I are becoming experts at packing-on-the-pounds. . . 24 and counting (we're up 6 from our last belly post).


This one's for Tarah. . . she specifically asked to see me with clothes on. LoL! And she likes my belly in stripes. :) Love you, Tar!