Thankful This Year

   Wow, I have a ton of posts that I've started but haven't finished! I'm not going to sit and contemplate what that says about my personality... Instead I'll check what was supposed to be a Thanksgiving post and hit "post."
   It was the best of times. It was the worst of times. It was a year of gladness and rejoicing. It was a year of struggle and frustration. One year ago I announced with extreme joy that we were having a daughter. The long- awaited answer to several year's worth of prayer. But around that time I also started my struggle with preeclampsia and had already ruptured my Achilles. And the hard times were only going to get worse. Those things were most definitely not in my plans.
     That whole situation...my preeclampsia became bad enough that I was hospitalized and sent home on bed rest around 32 weeks gestation, and had an additional extended period (over three months) of being off my feet after surgery, I can't say enough times how blessed I was during that time period. I never want to go through something like that again. Ever. *shudders.* But I've also never felt so loved. I had two different friends clean my bathroom. I had more people than I can count from my church offering to come over and help with laundry and cleaning. My parents stayed for a while and helped Ryan work on the house and my mom stayed for a loooooong time to take care of the children and me. And while I was sitting on the couch for my second bed rest with my leg up feeling like a useless blob, God continued to provide for us. Quite literally out of the blue, He gave Ryan an amazing job opportunity.  I was reminded again, as I watched my husband work long hours during the harvest season and then come home to work hard to take care of us, what an awesome man he is.
     In the middle of what seemed the longest period of my life, I had tons of time to spend with my three beautiful children. This was the longest maternity leave I'd ever gotten (7 1/2 months!) and the longest period of time I'd been able to spend with the boys since my first summer in the PTA program. (which would be 5 weeks in 2008. Yep, a while ago.) I was blessed to cuddle with my children and watch my boys enjoy being big brothers as well as love on my new baby girl.
     The fall saw my little boy Landon take a big step in growing up and go to kindergarten. Big brother Nathan took little brother under his wing and explained all the rules of school. :) And just when I thought I was going to go positively, absolutely, crazy from being on forced bed rest, my surgeon cleared me to begin walking, and shortly thereafter, to go back to work. And the rest of the year has been us as a family acclimating and finding our new "normal."
     In a year of emotional, physical, spiritual, and financial, hardship, God also brought joy, love, friends, comfort, and blessings. I NEVER want to go through a year like this again. And I'm a little tired of doctor's offices... But I can be thankful for this last year.
 

Bed Rest

     Think about who you are for a moment. About your own wonderful and unique blend of God-given personality and the character that you've chosen to develop. Although many of this earth will behave in similar ways at times and you may find those that you share traits with, you are as one-of-a-kind as your thumbprint. My own personality combines my natural sanguine, free-floating spirit with a deep and fiery determination. The first time I ever read in history about the southern term "steel magnolias" it resonated with me. I found I could identify with the concept of someone being gracious, feminine, and ladylike and still having the backbone and grit to get things done when it mattered. At 15 I tore the stitches in my knee because I pushed through rehab so hard and also impressed my coaches at how quickly I was back on the court. In the PTA program I constantly heard classmates saying, "I don't know how you get it all done with all you have going on." My boss commented after one of the best April Fool's jokes I've ever managed to plan (that's a whole other story!), "you just don't give up, do you?" I grinned while shaking my head and said, "Nope. Not in my vocabulary."
     I come from a family of determined people. That's probably where a lot of it comes from. It's a mixture of optimistic "can-do" attitudes and a knowledge that sometimes sacrifices just have to be made to accomplish a goal. For me there was a lot of competition with my older brothers and trying to be seen as anything but the baby of the family. But there can be a darker side to this as well. You can only burn a candle from both ends for so long before both ends of the flame meet in the middle. Even steel will crack when exposed to too much pressure. And that is what has happened to me. My poor pregnant body has declared "enough!" I was hospitalized for two days last week due to high blood pressure, a potentially deadly condition in pregnancy known as preeclampsia. Even today with all the marvels of modern medicine there isn't much that doctors can do for prevention and treatment. They don't even know why some women come down with it and other don't. Currently I'm obeying my doctor's orders and doing the best that medicine can to keep both myself and my unborn child safe: restricting salt in my diet, taking blood pressure meds, and full-time bed rest.
     To say that I didn't struggle when my OB/GYN issued this edict would be a bald-faced lie. It felt like my world as I know it is coming to an end. Maybe a tad dramatic, I'll fess up to that, but it completely turned my life upside down. I'm used to constantly moving, coming and going, doing, being busy. What in the world am I supposed to do lying on the couch, and preferably on my left side? I've grown accustomed to feeling constant pressure from deadlines, house, children, responsibilities, and feeling that's just a part of my normal life. No surprise that my BP is high, I can often feel my pulse thudding in my neck and the base of my skull.
     In a conversation that my dad has had to repeat to two out of his three children, he related his own struggles with stress and blood pressure at a young age. About his doctor's warnings and the choices he had to make to become healthier.  In his early 20's my dad had to learn to stop and smell the roses more and to relax. And apparently that too is something that has to be learned in this family. Apparently I need to stop running and learn to sit and be content. Apparently I need to be more in the moment and stop worrying about what comes next. To stop depending on self so much, and rely on God.  To accept love and help from other people. Apparently  I have lessons to learn, children to cuddle and read to, things to mentally and emotionally let go of. Apparently this bed rest is going to be good for me for more than producing a healthy baby.

Not in my plans

     This was not the pregnancy that I had planned. I was going to keep running 3-6 miles, 3 times a week. I was playing volleyball. I was going to be the picture of health this time. Then my achilles tendon ruptured with a sickening pop. As if the forcible removal of all fun things physical combined with the limping and subsequent backache weren't bad enough, then the blood pressure started climbing. Preeclampsia. Once was enough already and not what I wanted again.
     Now I'm sitting in the doctor's office afraid to move lest my nose start spurting blood again. Idly I wonder how much blood loss equals one of the daily iron supplements my OB recently added to my daily regimen. Shoot! I forgot it this morning. Need to remember to take when I get home... I can't tell if my headache is from the blood pressure that spiked this morning or from my severe sinus infection. this and getting sent home from work this morning. This was not in my plan either.
     I worry. A lot. Too much. I worry about how I will pay the bills if I'm put on bed rest. I worry about my body, whether it's killing my baby. I worry about being a mom to my two wonderful boys and whether all of this is taking time away from them. As I feel my pulse pound way too quickly in my neck, I worry that I won't be able to carry her to full term.
     Then from inside a small kick pulls me out of my musings. She's active for a few minutes, kicking bones and bladder indiscriminately. My precious little girl is, for the moment, doing all right. And her tiny taps, which are constantly growing stronger, remind me of God's grace. Of his goodness. Of the fact that He gives enough for today, for this moment. That He is taking care of me and of my family. To not cross the line from planning into worry. His grace, his unmerited favor and love, is enough. And that's been the theme of this pregnancy. To trust in God's grace every day and depend on His strength. And to thank God for the amazing family, church family, and coworkers and I'm surrounded with who are supporting me and praying for me.

 “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. 2 Corinthians 12:9