Things have been quieter than normal around here and all for good reason!
Fair Warning: This is an honest look into my past 4 months for those with intrigue and a love for “Too Much Info”….
In a panick, I sprung from the dream declaring out loud that I was pregnant. I woke Dave.
“God told me I was pregnant in my dream.”
He looked at me half awake before rolling over back to sleep.
The next morning I asked him if he remembered. Gently he nodded yes but said nothing.
“I know. It’s sounds crazy doesn’t it.”
I’d been frantically trying everything for months to get my cycle back on track. Not only for the purpose of starting a family one day, but for my body’s own health. Fourteen years of being on birth control had left it’s marks on this a-type rule keeper.
I’d just started to get the hang of hiding the daily breakouts, when the acne threw a curve ball. To my back. Life a 13 year old boy who’d just hit pubertity.
I figured this was the last hurrah before the toxins were gone for good.
As wedding season unfolded, I couldn’t keep my wits about me. Depression seemed to loom and steal joy from every moment.
Ho hum. How I described myself most days.
I’ve never been the one to need something to cheer me up, simply revelling in life and counting daily ways he loves me.
I was Ok once I got going, but in the stillness all was silent. Even Him.
I determined it was a season, one of testing and of waiting. Of obeying when I didn’t “feel it” and learning to wear faith through the trials.
Then rage beseeched me like a wild fire, running viciously through my bones. In the day and in my sleeping, I’d wrestle with my tounge. Heaven knows it wasn’t me. The world had just gone stupid!
For two weeks.
I couldn’t control the moods of furry.
With family we talked of kids; the good, the bad and lovely. Of times these folks loved and cherished most when raising me and my sister.
From on the porch, she said it quick, I had to ask her to repeat.
“I knew it, Darlin’. I told your dad, when getting out the shower.”
“What?” I said
“That you’re pregnant! I Just knew it! I had a feeling…”
I hated to burst her bubble, almost wishing it were the case. But soft I told her she was mistaken and must have heard me wrong.
The text came in ’bout half past six from a girlfriend, sweet and loving.
“I hate to ask like this. I know it’s tacky, but I can’t help myself any longer. Are you pregnant?”
“Um. No. Not that I know of anyway. What made you think that?”
“I just had a feeling…”
That’s weird, I thought. Two in two days. Do they know something I don’t?
If I could pack myself a basket of indulges they’d be sweet. Both creamy and chewing, salting and firmly crunchy.
Chips. Ice Cream. Candy. These are my guilty pleasure.
And for weeks I thoughts I’d found my swing, moderation and self control.
I hardly ever wanted them, instead I wanted food. “Real Food,” I’d say, like sandwiches and dinners.
For those who know me dearly, it’s rare of me to do. To skip the sweets for more main course and sing thanks to my dear taste buds.
But more of food was catching up. Bloated-ness to warn me. Slow down I thought and just be good. Eat clean from here on forward.
No trip to the gym or salad would due, the bump was just not leaving.
I’ve always been petite in all my female facets and rather fond of boyish frames.
I’ve never known the need for support or aching as I run.
But as I lifted weights and climbed the stairs to home, I found the need to take it slow and hold my top frame close.
Guinness is our baby. Fur baby some may call.
He’s sweet and gentle, playful at times, but never rude or manly.
But come mid June, he’d start to dance and get wild when around me. And if I wasn’t careful he’s grab my legs to dance along with him.
This behaviour was strange.
What would cause a dog to dance? And only when he’s near me?
June 18th, 2014
Now let me make this clear. I wasn’t regular or we trying. But something in me said I should be 4 weeks in my cycle.
The days ran by with still no blood and my mind began to spin.
Could I be? Is it possible?
I went and looked back at my tracking. May 14th, 16th, 18th.
If all was good and half Ideal, I was fertile and we making sheet music.
And so I waited, with baited breath afraid to admit it to myself.
June 21st, 2014
I shared it with one girlfriend. I was beginning to really wonder. Could this be true, I’m not so sure. But maybe it’s time to consider?
Then in our bed, Dave shared it frank. He thinks I could just be. His patient is a doctor who affirmed my “season” was surely symptoms.
So I grabbed my girlfriend and drove to Target, to get the truth in box. We laughed and joked and paused in prep for disappointment also.
I didn’t want to own it, that I truly wanted YES. So off to work I prayed to God and fessed up with my feelings.
I’d heard the stories, so many times, of lost ones way to soon. Of mommy’s joy, ripped from the womb before the world knows. But with grace and sweet compassion he reminded me he’s good and can be trusted with this too; just know it’s all His will.
Returning home, He grabbed the box and beckoned me to the bathroom. No time for pretty or talking first, he had to know right now.
My mind whirled and my heart beat fast.
This could just be the moment when our life would change for forever strong and baby would be coming.
I placed it on the window sill for him to check and see. And when he looked his eyes went big and he choked out simple words…
The moments after muffle. I remember tears of joy and bouts of laughter sweet and strong for hours long and after.
Because sometimes, right in the middle of an ordinary life, God gives us a miracle…
Welcoming Baby Veenstra Spring 2015