Our due date rolls around in just 5 days. Although I could go for another week or two after that, I do feel her coming on! Anthony is just as excited as I am, possibly more, and our bags are packed and waiting by the door.
I don't post status updates about my pregnancy on Facebook every five minutes (although it seems like things are happening every five minutes!), and neither have I been faithful to blog about the little milestones and miracles along this journey. If I were to be honest with myself, it's because I am afraid of being relegated to the mommy corner, the one where you only talk about cloth diapers, nursing schedules and what your baby has been doing lately. I want to talk about these things but am afraid of losing some type of sense of my own identity, one I think and hope to be more complex than just changing diapers.
This is my own poor perspective of motherhood (and my purpose when writing). I confessed my fears of being "mommy Melissa" to Anthony, and he kindly suggested that I should embrace the inclusion of my personal motherhood experiences in this blog. The conversation ended simply with him asking, "Well, that's what you are going to be, right? It's now part of who you are and you write about everything else". How simple and true! Just because I crave some sense of privacy and autonomy with my daily practices doesn't mean I have to live silently.
That said, here's a blog inside a blog: my list of random pregnancy observations.
1. Most of the cliches are true. Most of the pregnancy books' statements are true. It's still an incredible shock when they happen to you. I'm talking about you, stretch marks.
2. It is a rare moment when I forget I'm pregnant. I wake up thinking about her, and my body, from week 7, wouldn't let me do anything else but pay attention.
3. First trimester = 24/7 morning sickness and exaustion; second trimester = slight weight gain, energy for exercising and a real live baby bump; third trimester = man-sized appetite, a big ol' belly and crying for joy over the tiniest socks.
4. I am both more and less judgmental of parents now. More because I actually have an opinion about parenting things (immunizations, etc.), and less because I know how poorly I receive personal criticism and sometimes there's no need to discuss opinions if they're just that.
5. Pregnancy is a privilege. I am so thankful for my health and although there were very difficult days on my body, I have never been in need of food, health care or shelter. Often as I thought to (and did) complain about a sore back, bleeding gums or my love/hate relationship with tomatoes, I was reminded that many, many women would do anything to experience these things if they meant that they could bear a child. Small price for an undeserved blessing.
.... Hopefully my next post will have a picture of our whole out-of-the-womb family! Unless I get really antsy and decide to tackle some Middle East peace issues on here before then.
March 3, 2011
January 26, 2011
Is it faux pas to...
...give dinner guests "the tour" of your home? Is that showing off?
...not send thank-you cards for Christmas presents to geographically distant family?
...use free wi-fi at a place without buying a coffee every single time? (Personally, I think of it as window shopping for a beverage where there happens to be free interwebs and I happen to have my laptop.)
...post pictures of yourself on Facebook and when you receive kind compliments, say nothing back?
I don't consider any of these true dilemmas that some family ethics professor somewhere needs to address, but these questions do run through my head at times. Is it safe to trust your own intuition and experiences when it comes to the navigation of postmodern social scenes (evites, Skype dates, online class discussions)? I do own an Emily Post manual, but I bought it at Goodwill for my own entertainment, not to reference in a moment of panic.
On second thought, I do reference a "protocol" manual for Army social situations. Better safe than sorry.
...not send thank-you cards for Christmas presents to geographically distant family?
...use free wi-fi at a place without buying a coffee every single time? (Personally, I think of it as window shopping for a beverage where there happens to be free interwebs and I happen to have my laptop.)
...post pictures of yourself on Facebook and when you receive kind compliments, say nothing back?
I don't consider any of these true dilemmas that some family ethics professor somewhere needs to address, but these questions do run through my head at times. Is it safe to trust your own intuition and experiences when it comes to the navigation of postmodern social scenes (evites, Skype dates, online class discussions)? I do own an Emily Post manual, but I bought it at Goodwill for my own entertainment, not to reference in a moment of panic.
On second thought, I do reference a "protocol" manual for Army social situations. Better safe than sorry.
December 17, 2010
The Year in Review... sort of.
Every December, I search out "year-in-review" lists because I find them entertaining and because they remind me of everything my brain has already forgotten from the most recent months. Writers and analysts list their Top 10 everything, from fashion statements to news stories, and handpick the person(s) they think had the most impact on the world that year.
It's a little early to do what might seem like a gratuitous reflecting-on-all-that's-happened-in-2010 post, but I'm not feeling that heavy, not yet, at least. I'll wait until the window for Seasonal Affectiveness Disorder has passed before I represent the entire 365 days through the gloom of winter. Let's do something fun.
Top Unedited Moments of 2010... no filter, no posing and no planning. Just living.
A surprise birthday party for my mother-in-law... around 6:00 a.m., the only time she could be caught off guard.
An impromptu trip from Ft. Benning, GA to Opelika, AL and down to Destin, FL, with a Yankee who had never seen the Gulf Coast. She got offended at the cat calls to our more tanned friend.
It's a little early to do what might seem like a gratuitous reflecting-on-all-that's-happened-in-2010 post, but I'm not feeling that heavy, not yet, at least. I'll wait until the window for Seasonal Affectiveness Disorder has passed before I represent the entire 365 days through the gloom of winter. Let's do something fun.
Top Unedited Moments of 2010... no filter, no posing and no planning. Just living.
Real snow in Dothan, AL. Vanessa, my future sister-in-law, and I bought rubber boots at Target.
I caught my first fish at the pond in Selma, AL and it was a whopper of a largemouth bass. Almost two pounds, I believe.
Fourth of July with the sisters and fireworks.
Airborne School dropzone. Insanely hot, but families stayed for hours with a Gatorade and love.
A few weeks' leave, after a year of training, in Florida. Also the height of morning sickness, but I remember this meal being DELICIOUS.
I may have to do a Review, Part 2. Stay tuned.
November 18, 2010
Kick Push Kick Push Kick Push ... Coast
Title sound a little familiar but you can't put your finger on it? Oh, you know the song.
I think almost nonstop about our little baby, so to have purposefully few and far between social networking blurbs about her seems a little standoffish. So, here's one for free: I love baby kicks. Love them.
Emmy is able to hear noises outside the womb now, and she kicks the minute that Anthony gets up out of bed (4:45 a.m., ladies and gentlemen). She kicks when he reads a chapter of the Bible to her before bed at night. She kicks when I eat and when I'm hungry. She kicks when I am cooking dinner. She kicks when I'm checking the mail. This baby can move.
I take physical movement for granted. For instance, when a disabled person shuffles past you, or wheels themself into the room with you, do you avert your eyes? Is this action conscious or subconscious? Do we feel hesitant to look, in case we are mistaken for staring, or is it because we feel ashamed to have what they do not?
That said, I feel like every movement inside of me is a miracle. It's as visceral as a kid in a hoodie at a Jay-Z show feeling the beat. I am determined to not take this movement for granted.
I think almost nonstop about our little baby, so to have purposefully few and far between social networking blurbs about her seems a little standoffish. So, here's one for free: I love baby kicks. Love them.
Emmy is able to hear noises outside the womb now, and she kicks the minute that Anthony gets up out of bed (4:45 a.m., ladies and gentlemen). She kicks when he reads a chapter of the Bible to her before bed at night. She kicks when I eat and when I'm hungry. She kicks when I am cooking dinner. She kicks when I'm checking the mail. This baby can move.
I take physical movement for granted. For instance, when a disabled person shuffles past you, or wheels themself into the room with you, do you avert your eyes? Is this action conscious or subconscious? Do we feel hesitant to look, in case we are mistaken for staring, or is it because we feel ashamed to have what they do not?
That said, I feel like every movement inside of me is a miracle. It's as visceral as a kid in a hoodie at a Jay-Z show feeling the beat. I am determined to not take this movement for granted.
November 3, 2010
It's showtime!
If I lived closer to my parents, I would be raiding their VHS home movie collection right now.
Here is a sample of what might be in it:
1. Two-contestant pageants, each with a "sponsor". Yes, my sister Holly and I would split the two younger sisters, dress them up, teach them a talent and ask them questions about the world. All over the microphone hooked up to the boombox and a Christmas lights runway.
2. A scary movie about what happened one time when Mom and Dad left us alone at the house... I'm pretty sure the girls killed me in that one, but who knows?
3. Birthday parties where we sing the Happy Birthday song as slow as possible, but not on purpose. It took Anthony's attendance and musical ear to let us know that something was definitely off with the tempo.
Annnnnddddd.....
4. A Fourth of July musical celebration, complete with a marching band (me on clarinet and Holly on trumpet), flag girl (Rebecca) and drum major (Cassandra). Oh boy. It was ambitious.
What got me thinking about my love for puttin' on a show is that I have been offered a loaner oboe (eeeee!!!!!) and the chance to get back into community musical performance, and I am very tempted to at least try. It's been five years since I touched an oboe and I have no doubt that I would have to rebuild all of my facial muscles to get back to the playing point, but it's an exciting proposition. There is just something about playing music with a group.
P.S. I met Anthony in high school through marching band. He was a total Nazi about it and I thought he was cute.
Here is a sample of what might be in it:
1. Two-contestant pageants, each with a "sponsor". Yes, my sister Holly and I would split the two younger sisters, dress them up, teach them a talent and ask them questions about the world. All over the microphone hooked up to the boombox and a Christmas lights runway.
2. A scary movie about what happened one time when Mom and Dad left us alone at the house... I'm pretty sure the girls killed me in that one, but who knows?
3. Birthday parties where we sing the Happy Birthday song as slow as possible, but not on purpose. It took Anthony's attendance and musical ear to let us know that something was definitely off with the tempo.
Annnnnddddd.....
4. A Fourth of July musical celebration, complete with a marching band (me on clarinet and Holly on trumpet), flag girl (Rebecca) and drum major (Cassandra). Oh boy. It was ambitious.
What got me thinking about my love for puttin' on a show is that I have been offered a loaner oboe (eeeee!!!!!) and the chance to get back into community musical performance, and I am very tempted to at least try. It's been five years since I touched an oboe and I have no doubt that I would have to rebuild all of my facial muscles to get back to the playing point, but it's an exciting proposition. There is just something about playing music with a group.
P.S. I met Anthony in high school through marching band. He was a total Nazi about it and I thought he was cute.
October 27, 2010
Sweenie
You know how couples can make up annoying lovey nicknames for each other? Well, Anthony is my Sweenie. Like Todd, but spelled differently and without the long-handled razors.
Word origin for Sweenie begins in the English, "sweetie" and was changed in 2010 by the addition of an Eric Cartman pronunciation.
Today Sweenie and I embark on another Army adventure: the transition to his new (Cav?!?) unit. After 14 long months of TRADOC and a few weeks (ok, a million weeks) of paycation, it is time to get to work. We don't know what working active duty outside of TRADOC feels like, nor do we have a good idea of what an infantry officer will do in a cavalry unit, although we are curious about the stetsons and spurs.
(After-note: Anthony actually ended up being put into an infantry batallion, where he is loving his job as a platoon leader. No spurs after all, which is ok, because we don't own any Black Beauties.)
What we do know is that God called us to reach out to the Army (yes, the whole thing) with His love. It's a new kind of infiltration.
Sweenie to me will be someone else's light in a dark place.
Word origin for Sweenie begins in the English, "sweetie" and was changed in 2010 by the addition of an Eric Cartman pronunciation.
Today Sweenie and I embark on another Army adventure: the transition to his new (Cav?!?) unit. After 14 long months of TRADOC and a few weeks (ok, a million weeks) of paycation, it is time to get to work. We don't know what working active duty outside of TRADOC feels like, nor do we have a good idea of what an infantry officer will do in a cavalry unit, although we are curious about the stetsons and spurs.
(After-note: Anthony actually ended up being put into an infantry batallion, where he is loving his job as a platoon leader. No spurs after all, which is ok, because we don't own any Black Beauties.)
What we do know is that God called us to reach out to the Army (yes, the whole thing) with His love. It's a new kind of infiltration.
Sweenie to me will be someone else's light in a dark place.
October 12, 2010
A Sacred Story
This place is dusty. I want to write more, and to do so, I must open my heart and tell the story that God has given me.
Last Sunday while we were back home in Tallahassee, my former youth pastor, Roshad, taught the morning service at Calvary Chapel Tallahassee. He had remarkable influence on me in my formative years and though we may not talk much since our move to Ft. Benning, I still consider him a spiritual influence in my life and love him dearly. His teaching confirmed something that God had been telling me for awhile -- that there is no shame in the story of mercy that God has done in our lives, no matter how difficult it is to tell.
(If you want to hear the teaching, go here: http://www.calvarytlh.net/MostRecentMessages.php and listen to "If You Knew Me" from 10/10/2010.)
Here is my God story.
A few months ago, in March 2010, I found out very early that I was pregnant. Anthony and I were so very excited to start a family. Another perfect piece of life had fallen in place, just as we planned. We cried and laughed at the positive test, went to the doctor and started waiting for my belly to grow.
At week 8, I miscarried. It was a slow process, nerve-wracking and tense. I was too much in shock and denial to process the gravity of the situation. Only days after doctors confirmed the loss did it hit me. I felt ashamed of my body and like I had done something wrong. I felt like a life's future had been erased without asking for my permission. I could not stop crying in the shower and though I had people close to me die before, I truly grieved for the first time.
In all this, I knew that God was there. I could not hear Him or see Him or even feel Him, but I knew that He had received our tiny, tiny baby into His kingdom.
Miscarriage happens to many. It is most commonly explained as the body's way of preventing what might have been a worse scenario. In my case, I know the exact purpose of its occurence: to bring me closer to a loving God and to bring healing to others.
God's purpose was made clear in the days and months to follow. We did not tell many people other than our family and close friends and church family what had happened, but God put many in my path, strangers and those close to me, that had also dealt with the loss of a child. Some I was able to comfort and some comforted me. Healing, in all its forms and struggles, had come from an open wound.
The loss of our baby is still often fresh in my heart and I don't think that I will ever stop feeling sad that it happened. As I read what I have just written, the words have oversimplified the complexity of it all. What might best portray what I am trying to express is the story of Abraham and Isaac.
In Genesis chapter 22, God asks Abraham to give up what is most precious to him in this world, his son. It seems masochistic of such a God to ask such a thing. It is a strange truth that God asks of us difficult sacrifice. In the end, God did not "slay" Isaac. He spared Him to show Abraham what true obedience -- letting go -- felt like. In our case, God's will was done. No conversations, no merciful angel's hand. The baby was a gift from God, taken early and dearly loved. And after the fact, we gave it back to Him, understanding that He is good and that His mercy endures forever. It was our conscious choice, with the help of God's Word and the Holy Spirit, to lay down what we thought should have been rightfully ours for His glory.
Yesterday I saw my second child, a girl, for the first time on an ultrasound screen. We have named her Emmanuelle, which means "God with us". He has been with me and with Anthony through literal, figurative and spiritual deserts, and He will continue to be with us until we enter into His kingdom.
Last Sunday while we were back home in Tallahassee, my former youth pastor, Roshad, taught the morning service at Calvary Chapel Tallahassee. He had remarkable influence on me in my formative years and though we may not talk much since our move to Ft. Benning, I still consider him a spiritual influence in my life and love him dearly. His teaching confirmed something that God had been telling me for awhile -- that there is no shame in the story of mercy that God has done in our lives, no matter how difficult it is to tell.
(If you want to hear the teaching, go here: http://www.calvarytlh.net/MostRecentMessages.php and listen to "If You Knew Me" from 10/10/2010.)
Here is my God story.
A few months ago, in March 2010, I found out very early that I was pregnant. Anthony and I were so very excited to start a family. Another perfect piece of life had fallen in place, just as we planned. We cried and laughed at the positive test, went to the doctor and started waiting for my belly to grow.
At week 8, I miscarried. It was a slow process, nerve-wracking and tense. I was too much in shock and denial to process the gravity of the situation. Only days after doctors confirmed the loss did it hit me. I felt ashamed of my body and like I had done something wrong. I felt like a life's future had been erased without asking for my permission. I could not stop crying in the shower and though I had people close to me die before, I truly grieved for the first time.
In all this, I knew that God was there. I could not hear Him or see Him or even feel Him, but I knew that He had received our tiny, tiny baby into His kingdom.
Miscarriage happens to many. It is most commonly explained as the body's way of preventing what might have been a worse scenario. In my case, I know the exact purpose of its occurence: to bring me closer to a loving God and to bring healing to others.
God's purpose was made clear in the days and months to follow. We did not tell many people other than our family and close friends and church family what had happened, but God put many in my path, strangers and those close to me, that had also dealt with the loss of a child. Some I was able to comfort and some comforted me. Healing, in all its forms and struggles, had come from an open wound.
The loss of our baby is still often fresh in my heart and I don't think that I will ever stop feeling sad that it happened. As I read what I have just written, the words have oversimplified the complexity of it all. What might best portray what I am trying to express is the story of Abraham and Isaac.
In Genesis chapter 22, God asks Abraham to give up what is most precious to him in this world, his son. It seems masochistic of such a God to ask such a thing. It is a strange truth that God asks of us difficult sacrifice. In the end, God did not "slay" Isaac. He spared Him to show Abraham what true obedience -- letting go -- felt like. In our case, God's will was done. No conversations, no merciful angel's hand. The baby was a gift from God, taken early and dearly loved. And after the fact, we gave it back to Him, understanding that He is good and that His mercy endures forever. It was our conscious choice, with the help of God's Word and the Holy Spirit, to lay down what we thought should have been rightfully ours for His glory.
Yesterday I saw my second child, a girl, for the first time on an ultrasound screen. We have named her Emmanuelle, which means "God with us". He has been with me and with Anthony through literal, figurative and spiritual deserts, and He will continue to be with us until we enter into His kingdom.
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