Realizing a Burden is Missing

I never intended this blog to be all about infertility or all about pregnancy, but obviously reproductive issues have kind of taken a lot of our time and brain power over the past four years.

The birth of our baby girl is getting close; I'll be at the 32 week mark in just a couple days. We spent all day Saturday in a childbirth class, and probably the most helpful for me was the time we spent after class talking to our instructor in more detail about natural childbirth. It kind of confirmed the way I'm leaning when it comes to a birth plan.

Like a lot of women, I think I'll miss being pregnant to an extent. I'll miss feeling our daughter move around, carrying her with me everywhere, and not having to worry about if she's eating or sleeping enough or if she's sick. On the other hand, this pregnancy has been so very long. I will not miss the constant attempts to cease worrying about a miscarriage or a stillbirth or a premature delivery.

Last week I realized the one thing I will probably miss most when I am no longer pregnant: the sweet relief of not even thinking about my uterine lining, ovulation, menstrual cycles or endometriosis. Anyone who has infertility issues will understand. It's not even something I was consciously aware of being free from until just recently. Now I'm aware of the way that burden has been lifted over the last seven months. It's one more thing for which I am so thankful - even if it's just a 9-month reprieve.

Embracing the Dichotomy

The sleepless nights have started. I feel our daughter growing bigger by the day (for which I am so grateful!), sometimes sticking her head or a knee or an elbow into my ribs. Sometimes she bounces suddenly up and down on my bladder. At night, it's not necessarily her movements that keep me awake; it's the heaviness and the hip or back pain that makes it impossible to get comfortable. Unfortunately all my tossing and turning is waking John up at night, too.

I may need to start getting up and doing things around the house when I can't sleep in the middle of the night. During the day I feel like I get only a fraction of my to-do list accomplished because I'm exhausted. If I can get a few things done during the wakeful times at night, I could take time during the day to snooze in the recliner for little bits of time. I am aware this is only the beginning of waking periods during the night, exhaustion, and accomplishing very little from a to-do list during the day.

What would it be like if I was also running after a 13-month-old? Our first baby is never far from my heart. I'm reminded that God gives us grace to handle situations as we're in them. Maybe we have that grace always, but we don't need it or try to access it unless we're in the midst of the difficult circumstance.

Yesterday a stranger asked me (again) if this will be my first child. I never know a good way to answer that question, and every time it serves to suddenly remind me of the loss of our first baby. As I answer, "Yes," I know I'm lying, yet I don't want to get into an explanation about infertility and miscarriage. I remember a woman at the swimming pool who asked the question in a way I could answer: "Is this your first pregnancy?" That seems an easier question to answer. No. This is my second pregnancy; the first ended in miscarriage. It's so miraculous to now be this far along with a healthy baby on the way.

The woman that asked that question understood; she suffered through multiple miscarriages herself.

I am reminded of a recent conversation with a friend about the reality of life being a dichotomy of joy and suffering. The experiences go hand-in-hand, and both are necessary for growth. So, to look toward this new year expecting the unexpected, bracing for the pain that is certain to come along with the great joy of giving birth for the first time, of adding a daughter to our family, is not pessimistic. It is real, and it is the way toward growth and eventually getting to a place of more contentment and joy than I would have imagined for myself.

I just have to be careful to live in this balance by faith, not fear. I love Ann Voscamp's January 3rd blog post. In part, she says:

~~~
Sometimes you don’t know you’re taking the first step through a door — until you’re already inside.

And no matter what room you step into — every space holds the possibility of this profound joy and deep pain and the two always mingle together. There is no other place to arrive at.

There’s only one address anyone lives at and it’s always a duplex: Joy and pain always co-habit every season of life.

Accept them both and keep company with the joy while the pain does its necessary renovations.
~~~

I pray that we, and you, will learn to "keep company with the joy" this year.

2012: I'm predicting a year of changes like I've never known.

When John told me at the end of October that he wanted to host a Christmas party at our house for his group at work, I was hesitant. We only just moved into the house at the beginning of November. I was planning to be gone for about a week in Seattle, and then we were planning a trip to see my parents for Thanksgiving. That only gave me a few weeks after Thanksgiving to get the house all settled and decorated for Christmas.

I'm glad we went ahead with the Christmas party. I needed that motivation to get stuff put away and Christmas decorations put up. More than anything, I think decorating the house for Christmas is what has helped really make this house feel like home.

So, this weekend of un-decorating is a little depressing. I'm always a little sad to put away the tree, garlands, poinsettias, lights, and nativities. We'd probably keep things around for another week or so if the bulk trash wasn't being picked up tomorrow; our Christmas tree either goes out to the curb now or it's going to have to wait until February to be picked up.

This third trimester is bringing with it some serious tiredness. As I take down Christmas ornaments, and box up other Christmas decor, I can't help but think of how exhausted I'll be getting all this done next year with a 10-month-old. Life is always changing. I wondered for a long time if I would ever be pregnant. Then I wondered if I would ever experience a full-term pregnancy, or ever have children in our family. It seems to be happening now. I cherish this pregnancy I never thought I'd have. I will appreciate having a child, or children, whom I thought might never actually be.

But this is the end of an era. Unlike so many changes that happen in a moment's notice, unexpectedly, I'm having nine months to prepare for this change. I'm aware with each holiday, each date with John, each day I get to take a long nap or sleep late, each errand I run by myself quickly, that these things are all about to change drastically.

2012 will be all about changes as we've never experienced them before. John will be working at his new job all year, we will continue to adjust to life in Oklahoma, and we will add another person to our family. While 2011, with its grief, uncertainty, moving, and cherishing of each day and week in the past six months, seemed a very long year, I have a feeling 2012 is going to be the beginning of time whizzing by.

I'll have to remember to keep cherishing each day and week. Before I know it, we'll be decorating for Christmas once again!