Altering Reality

Sunday is football day at the FunnyWriterMommy house. Why, it's almost a sacred day, and when it isn't football season, we're all just a bit lost.

At the FWM house, Football Day often equals "Altering Reality." Inevitably someone is miserable as a result of Football Day, so we work hard to change the rules--real or Fantasy--in order to alter our reality to something a bit happier.

For example, in my altered reality, our Fantasy Football league takes total points into account instead of win-loss record. Look at me in fourth place!

It didn't work for BeauDon today. His new altered reality rule is that only the first quarter of the Lions games counts. That made the Lions nearly undefeated this season. At the very least, they are playoff eligible. Today he added an extra quarter for good measure. Still didn't work. Sorry, BD. It's just another sad Football Day.

Today

Today is day one of truly investing 86,400, and I did it! I lived each moment. Some I didn't want to live (scrubbing behind the toilet and discovering the kitchen sink backing up and leaking into the cupboard), and others I would live again and again (snuggling a freshly-bathed Meggie).

Today I relished the weather by ditching my sweater and driving with the windows open.

Today I decorated my front porch for Christmas.

Today I located my Writer Mama book from Dear Writer Friend, and I pledged to start reading it tonight. I also located a lovely and quite empty journal to fill with the exercises.

Today I washed one load of laundry, scrubbed behind the toilet, put away laundry, organized my wrapping paper closet, and set my cool red phone up in my "library."

Today I christened my landing as my library.

Today I snuggled in bed with my husband and our two oldest daughters.

Today I made eggs and bacon for my family.

Today I heard Steven Curtis Chapman's new song about heaven, which he wrote after his daughter died. As he sang that heaven is a sweet, maple-syrup kiss, I thought about Baby Zion and all that we will miss. Then, when he sang that heaven is where his daughter will take his hand and lead him to God and they will run together into his arms, I wept. Right there, at the red light. And I dreamed about the moment when my little one will lead me into the arms of the Father who has known us since the beginning of time . . .

Today I met my oldest girl's new fish: Argy and Cargy (the two Mickey Mouse goldfish--with Mickey's head on their tails) and Fibonacci and Fibonacci (the two fantails).

Today I tucked my middle girl in her bed with her two "pashas" (pacifiers) and her four blankets, all of which she tucks underneath herself like a little nest she lies in to dream.

Today I lived.

How Alive Am I Willing to Be?

I've been thinking a lot lately about making my life count. Leaving a mark on history--on my children, surely, and those we meet--but even more than that making each day count for me. I want to live each moment, because I'm not so good at that. I want to live in my passions, in my weaknesses, in my strong moments, in my joys, in my sorrows . . . I want to soak it all in and really live it.

It gets so easy to live for what will happen next (see yesterday's post!) or think that life/happiness/fill in the blank will begin after the kids are gone/I'm done with school/we're out of debt. Realistically that is all so many years away for me, and I already thought surely I'd be pursuing all of my dreams when Beau graduated from college. Alas. I may never start if I always put a starting point on it.

So . . . let the living begin! Let the dreams come. Let the goals be achieved. Let my writer's heart break through. Let me love words and fall and laughing and sweet music and amazing literature and oranges and a good cry and facing fears and even failing from time to time.

Now . . . how exactly does one begin?

Simple Pleasures

So the biggest event of 2009 is now complete for me, but that doesn't mean there is nothing left for me to anticipate. It's interesting, because I love anticipation. For me, the planning and dreaming about and waiting for is almost as good (often better!) as the actual event I've been longing for. Having a baby is never like that. I know that heaven will also be better than any of the dreams I have for it. But most other things . . . movies, vacations, meals . . . they all go so fast and often fail to live up to what I've anticipated.

Even so, here are a few of the favorite things I have left to dream about this year:

* Jumbo navel oranges
* Family pictures
* Going back to church
* Opening Wii EA Active on Christmas Day
* Being done nursing
* Sleeping through the night (closely related to the one above)
* Reading a book for pleasure
* Dinner at Mangiamo! and Green Well (thank you, Kampers!)
* New Moon
* Getting my hair cut
* Ending November with 29 blog entries (some even worth reading!)
* Making hair things with Julie, Abbie, and Ellie
* Designing Addie's birth announcements
* Eating prime rib at Logan's
* Writing the 2009 Christmas Letter
* Getting rid of all my maternity clothes (okay, this may spill into 2010, but it will happen)

And there is so much more that I hope for 2010. They're simple pleasures, but they're mine. And I love to dream about them.

Surreal Wednesday

"C'mon. Give me some sugar."
Linny's grandma reaching for a hug from Tuck and Ming Ming on The Wonder Pets

Yesterday

I missed blogging yesterday, so today I will attempt two. Either way, I still thought about what I would write, and I was aware of my surroundings. Both of these things are what I love most about writing.

Last night a man was killed. He was found guilty in a court of law and was sentenced to death for his actions. I suppose that if anyone deserves to die for the crimes they have committed, then he did. Killing people at random . . . targeting them like a sniper . . . wow. I can't imagine the fear that instills.

But . . . does anyone deserve to die for their crimes? Is the payment for a life taken ever another life? Is anything ever solved by that? Does it change anything?

"No, I don't feel any closure. I mean it's . . . it . . . nothing changes." This was spoken by a man whose sister was killed by Muhammad. And, at the end of the day, that's the truth. Nothing changes. The victims aren't magically brought back to life, the pain for those grieving doesn't end, and life doesn't go back to normal. Nothing changes.

So . . . was it worth it?

"Deserves it! I daresay he does. Many that live deserve death. And some that die deserve life. Can you give it to them? Then do not be too eager to deal out death in judgment. For even the very wise cannot see all ends." Gandalf, in The Fellowship of the Ring, J.R.R. Tolkien

Twenty Short Years

I'm waking up at the start of the end of the world,
But it's feeling just like every other morning before,
Now i wonder what my life is going to mean if it's gone,
The cars are moving like a half a mile an hour if that
And I started staring at the passengers who're waving goodbye
Can you tell me what was ever really special about me all this time?

But I believe the world is burning to the ground
Oh well I guess we're gonna find out
Let's see how far we've come
Let's see how far we've come
Well I, believe, it all, is coming to an end
Oh well, i guess, we're gonna pretend,
Let's see how far we've come
Let's see how far we've come
("Let's See How Far We've Come"-Matchbox Twenty)

Twenty years ago today was a big day in history. I vividly remember watching the footage of the Berlin wall falling, and while I can't imagine Germany as East and West, I can picture the easterners flooding through. I can see the young men standing on the top of the wall or along its sides, striking the wall with pick axes and hammers, trying to knock down what never should have stood. I didn't understand what it meant for communism and the Cold War and the Soviet Union, but I knew it meant that school would be disrupted that day. I remember sitting in my 7th-grade homeroom and talking about what we had seen on our televisions that day.

Twenty years ago? Really? Because I don't remember it being that long ago. It must have been, because so much has transpired since then--in the world and in my life. So many more walls have been torn down and nearly as many have been erected.

Twenty years ago my family had just moved to Grand Rapids from our lovely home in the prairie. I was now a big city girl living across the street from a fire station and within spitting distance of my neighbors. Gone were the bull across the road, the cows that came into our yard, and the acres and acres of yard and farmland surrounding our house.

Twenty years ago I started 7th grade at my first Christian school. My mantra was "If God is For Us, Who Can Be Against Us" (yay DeGarmo & Key!), and I was scared to death.

Twenty years ago I didn't know a thing about who I was or what I believed beyond what my parents lived out in their every day. I didn't have anyone but my mom, my dad, and my sister. And God. And a library card to get me through the summer. God, my family, and the library are my only constants. And somehow they're enough.

Today I have a faith that carries me through valleys and over mountains. I have a husband who is my best friend. I have three beautiful daughters who make each day worth getting out of bed. I have a job that challenges me, whether or not I love it and working. I have a house in the city within spitting distance of wonderful neighbors. I have a great church with people who challenge me to learn and grow and love.

I believe that while today is the start of the end of the world and it truly does feel like every morning before, my life will mean something when it's gone. In fact, it will mean much, much more than it does today. Because when you worry, when you feel like the world is caving in, He is stronger than our weakness, faithful to the end. And like the master taught us, there is life beyond the cross. Even though we're weary, the battle won't be lost. After all, if God is for us, who can be against us? No power on earth can take His love away. If God is for us, who can be against us? We can live in victory today.

A Song for Addie and Zion

Weak and wounded sinner
Lost and left to die
O, raise your head, for love is passing by
Come to Jesus
Come to Jesus
Come to Jesus and live!

Now your burden's lifted
And carried far away
And precious blood has washed away the stain, so
Sing to Jesus
Sing to Jesus
Sing to Jesus and live!

And like a newborn baby
Don't be afraid to crawl
And remember when you walk
Sometimes we fall...so
Fall on Jesus
Fall on Jesus
Fall on Jesus and live!

Sometimes the way is lonely
And steep and filled with pain
So if your sky is dark and pours the rain, then
Cry to Jesus
Cry to Jesus
Cry to Jesus and live!

O, and when the love spills over
And music fills the night
And when you can't contain your joy inside, then
Dance for Jesus
Dance for Jesus
Dance for Jesus and live!

And with your final heartbeat
Kiss the world goodbye
Then go in peace, and laugh on Glory's side, and
Fly to Jesus
Fly to Jesus
Fly to Jesus and live!

"Untitled Hymn (Come to Jesus)," Chris Rice

Providence and the Lovely Day

What a beautiful day we enjoyed today!

It all began with Addison waking for the first time at 4:00 a.m. (which Beau paid for as she didn't actually go to sleep until 2:30 a.m.!). Next, the other girls didn't wake up until a bit after 7:00, and we had family snuggle time in our bed. Then on to breakfast and a visit from good friends. I brought the girls to meet my mom for overnight at "Gamma & Gampa's" and headed to the grocery store with Addie.

Then the real fun began.

Addie and I went to USA Baby where they had great sales, and I had a coupon for 20% off the sale price. Yay for the new "youth chair" that will save me about three years before I need to buy another dining room chair. Does it get any better?! Oh, yes. It does.

On to Barnes & Noble--the new two-story mecca at Woodland Mall--with a generous gift card burning a hole in my pocket. Alas, it was for spending on the girls and not on me, but still! The girls now each own (well, after I write in them and make the presentation) their own copy of Little Women, for Christmas they will own There is a Monster at the End of This Book, and Addie is the happy recipient of To Kill a Mockingbird. Oh, yes. She is happy about it.

And STILL, can it get better? YES!

Target = gift card. Woo-hoo! (We should have had babies long ago!!) The gift card wasn't enough to buy the baby gate we need/want, so I got to spend it on other things. Addie has a little chime thingy (in a nonoffensive volume and tone) for her carseat, we have cupboard locks for the "Meggie cup/Addie bottle" cupboard that Meggie LOVES to rearrange--all over the kitchen floor!, and the tub toys are about to meet their organizational match.

Even better, I happened to be in the onesie aisle at the same time as a lovely couple was approaching the aisle in the midst of their discussion about not being able to find a maternity winter coat. I have one. I don't need it. I want to sell it. Give me your email, dear soon-to-be Mommy.

Photos and description sent. Hopefully money and goods will be exchanged next week. Ah, what a lovely day of Providence, coupons, and gift cards. Oh, and sunshine and breeze and relaxing. So far I love November.

Success Equals Five

Today, November 6, marks the day of success. I have now "blogged" every day (except the first) of November. In addition, I have now "blogged" more in the month of November than I did in the entire first ten months of the year. Nice.

I've come to realize that my problem is prioritizing. I can't blame it all on my work-from-home job, though I'm sure that is part of it. At the end of the day, though, there are more than enough hours to raise my girls, do my job, clean my house, and fulfill my drive to create. There have to be, or I'm not going to make it through the next 18 years until Addie is on her way to the University of Notre Dame (or Cornell).

Oh, to master prioritizing.

Oh, to master getting out of bed at 5:45 a.m. to take my shower, get in some devos (at DeVos or in my big, comfy chair), blog a bit, and then make breakfast for the girls. That, of course, means prioritizing the end of my day--vegging in front of the TV, watching the news for the 10th time that day, or climbing into bed? It all depends on what my priorities are . . . vegging or becoming who I'm supposed to be.

I used to meet my Dear Writer Friend at DeVos for devos once a month. It wasn't really devos as much as outlining our goals--physical, spiritual, financial, emotional, creative, and professional. I found my notes the other day from our last meeting before DWF moved to the sunset. That was years ago. She's back now, and I'm no further on crossing those things off my list. Well, except for write a letter to/call Grandma once each week. She's in heaven now, so I'm exempt from that one.

So . . .
Physical. I need abs. And I have dozens and dozens of pounds to lose to be healthy. I want to be a runner some day.
Spiritual. I need to pray. More. Some. At all.
Financial. Thanks to Dave Ramsey, we have had some success here. There is still a long way to go, though. Gotta snowball.
Emotional. I need some space. Some time. Something for me. Tomorrow I should have time away. But I need to create that time with my friends, too. And some accountability to get it all in.
Creative. Blogging daily is a good start. How about that journal which shall be burned upon my death? (Really. I think I mastered that spell from reading through the Harry Potter series three times.) I have a lot of books on my shelf that need to be read, too. They're crying out for it, and so is my brain.
Professional. I need to develop a work schedule for each week and stick to it. There is much for me to learn to do my job well, so I should learn it. I also need to chat with Mom about the blogging (there it is again!) and other social networking she needs me to take on for her. Creativity in exchange for free child care? Works for me! And DWF just might get me on Twitter after all, though it my be as my mom.

So maybe success actually equals six, but five is a better start than I've made in a long, long time.

Happy Unbirthday, Baby!

Today is the day we originally assigned as the birthday of our youngest children. When your labors are as predictable (short and late) as mine, you get to do just that: assign a birthday. Seems like this entire pregnancy had ideas other than predictable, though.

As we approached our due date--and assigned induction day--I had severe moments of anxiety, wondering what the initial unpredictability would bring. What would it be like to deliver twins, knowing that only one of them would leave the hospital with us? How would the birth certificate for the live child look? How would we explain it all to Ellie, to Meggie, to Addie? So many questions, all saved for the 5th of November.

The unpredictability deepened when my doctor said he would like to induce at 39 weeks instead of just after 40. That bumped the assigned birthday to October 27 and took 10 days from my predetermined timeline. I came to terms with that and busied myself with the laundry, nursery set up, and other little projects around the house.

Then, as unpredictability would have it, my water broke at midnight on October 21. As we rushed to the hospital (after about ten minutes of disbelief and confusion about the next step), we forgot so many things. The camera, last kisses for the girls, my pillow, pens for the scrapbook, anxiety about delivery . . . so much was brushed aside by the confusion of not knowing what was going on. As the night would dawn into morning and realization that the moment was here and Addie would pick their birthday after all, all that we had forgotten made itself known.

I wish I could put words to the matter-of-fact feelings mixed with deep sadness as I delivered Addison's placenta and Baby Zion all at once, with no effort and almost no awareness. Then to hear that Baby Zion's body had been absorbed and to watch them seal my beloved child--Addie's twin--into a plastic container to be sent in for testing . . . but there are no words. Just feelings as mixed as they were the day we learned that there had been two.

Today there were three beautiful girls in the van on the way to Addie's two-week checkup. There were three loud girls in the waiting room and three crying girls during the shot-giving portion of the checkup (H1N1 vaccines for the older two and Mommy). Addie slept through our shots, and the tears were mine at both Ellie's reaction and the awareness that though there were three, there should have been four. Forever there should have been four where there are three. This is our life. And it is a blessed life even when it doesn't make sense.

Today my third of four children is finally "full term." She is 7 lbs. 13 oz. and 20 inches long. She is healthy and growing and beautiful. And her life is richer for the time she spent with Baby Zion.

Surreal Wednesday

Two Wednesdays ago was one of the most surreal days of my life. I was due yesterday. I should have had a one day old today, but instead I have a two week old. Despite all my thoughts and plans, my water broke on Wednesday, October 21, at midnight. I spent that night in a delivery room receiving penicillin through an IV and delivered a healthy baby girl around 10:40 a.m. Then I spent the next week trying to comprehend that I was holding the baby in my arms instead of my womb.

In honor of that surreal day in late October, we will begin celebrating Surreal Wednesdays. Today's surreal moment:

Meggie meets Starbucks.

You buy the kid one apple juice in a red holiday cup and suddenly she's too grown up to even come in the house when she's told.

Baby, don't ever let anyone cheapen you.

Let's get something out in the open right away: having a baby is never cheap.

There is research that puts the cost of raising a child near $200,000, not including college. It really is worth every penny, but that doesn't mean it isn't shocking. I'm due today, but our beautiful daughter decided to take it upon herself (or my Alaskan Seattle friend paid her off!) to arrive two weeks early. That means that yesterday, the eve of her "birth," we received our first of at least three bills related to her.

$1,729.70.

In August, just 11 short weeks before our expected arrival, BeauDon took a new job, which meant new insurance. Through the grace of God the former insurance carried us through the dreaded COBRA period and right up until the new insurance took effect on October 1. That saved us nearly $1,200 in out-of-pocket (and nonreimbursable) expenses. Whew. Dodged that bullet.

That said, the new insurance just isn't as good as the old. Say what you want about Former Job, but the coverage was decent. I do have to say that Current Job coverage is better than nothing (WAY better), but we do now have a $2,500 deductible. Then we have to pay 20% of our bills, up to another $2,500. Nobody wants to anticipate delivery of a newborn knowing it is likely they will be billed $5,000. Thank goodness for HSA accounts and Current Job's generous seed money in said account! Now that we have (at minimum) reached our deductible, everyone in the family is invited to get sick and/or need some sort of medical care. Commence all elective surgeries and medical treatment (ahem and sorry, BeauDon).

$1,729.70. Yeah. Even with the HSA, we're going to need a while to pay that off. (Baby girl, does anyone else think it's excessive to charge us $1,390.00 for the nursery you were in for less than two hours?)

This is only bill number one, you say? Of three, you say? And the next one will be more? That would be the true reason I don't get an epidural. I'm too Dutch to pay for it.

Ah, well. When we're all cold again next winter because our tax return had to pay you off instead of buy new windows, we'll just snuggle you extra tight, young one.

The silver lining:
Today's call to billing services revealed that our account has not yet been adjusted to reflect the discounted rate we're eligible for through our insurance company.

So, darling Addie Maye . . . never let anyone cheapen you. Except maybe the insurance company.

For Wendy, who always seems to somehow know what is best for me

It's the dreaded guilt-inducing month yet again (already?!), and I failed miserably at it last year. One might wonder why I would ever give it a go again this year when my win-loss record rivals that of the Detroit Lions, but like the Lions I can be assured that I have faithful (to the point of eligibility for sainthood) fans in my corner. So, in honor of WMW, my committed inch-by-inch writer friend; our better-than-average elder and his beautiful wife; our lovely neighbor who is moving too soon; my favorite worship leader who always believes the Lions will play football that first Sunday in February; my hubby's former WW coworker who thinks I really am funny--or at least worth laughing at--and any cyber stalkers I don't know about, I give you my best efforts at posting every day this month except for the first.

(NOTE: Full disclosure statement--last year I blamed my lack of posting on my nearly full-time work schedule and my toddler and preschooler. While this year I have (naively) added a newborn into the mix, I also happen to have the entire month of November off. Thus, I lost the major part of my excuse and have added 2:00 a.m. feedings in as the perfect time to doze off or dream up witty blog entries. Or explore excuses for my failure at NaBloPoMo.)

As a tribute to last year's failure, I have decided to dedicate today's post to all the times (since November began) that I have meant well and, well, fell short in the final minutes of the game:

* My Fantasy Football team, Sassy Frass, had far too many Packers on it this week . . . normally that works for me, but this year my defense is no match for the grand ol' #4.

* It is day two of odd-even parking in this fair city--and my ninth annual effort at it--and I still can't remember which side I should use on which day.

* The "over easy" egg I made for my preschooler ended up closer to over hard than raw. She cried.

* I took aforementioned preschooler's "Yes, I want toast, Mom," to mean she actually wanted it toasted. She didn't. She cried.

* I left the newborn on the chair for a bit too long while trying to make said egg and toast. She cried. Then she stopped. I came out to find aforementioned preschooler holding her and rocking. Without supporting the baby's head. She meant well. I almost cried.

* Prior to newborn's most-recent feeding (about 1 hour late, according to the shrillness of her cry), I neglected to secure a cup for toddler to fill with her healthy ten-minutes-before-lunch snack of Cheese-its. She found a shoe.

Here's hoping that none of this rubs off on the baby wrap auction ending tomorrow morning. So far that thing is mine, but the hours to go make me fear my chances. Stupid eBay and getting all my hopes up only to steal the dream from me at the last second.

I'm sure there's more, but it's all slipped my mind for now. And the kids are a 1/2-hour late for their naps, which means there is apple pie calling my name. Ooh, and Halloween candy. One day down. How many more to go?

A Mother's Intuition and a Father's Preparation

I got pregnant in February. It has never been hard for us to conceive--we've been blessed to get pregnant in the month that we have started trying for all three of my pregnancies. It's a blessing that not many woman get to enjoy.

So, knowing that we wanted our last two children close together, shortly after our youngest daughter's first birthday we conceived our "number last" child. During the early stages of pregnancy I struggle with nausea, tiredness, soreness, and many other ailments common to those early days. I also struggle with anxiety, wondering if the baby will be okay, if it will live, who it will look like, how it will fit in our family, what gender it will be . . . again, common to any newly-pregnant woman.

This time was a bit different. This time my cravings were different and some of my normal symptoms weren't there. This time my anxiety led me to check with friends and call the doctor's office. This time I just knew there was something wrong.

I explained those feelings away by referring to the postpartum depression I struggled with after the birth of our second daughter. I explained them away by chuckling at my belief that God could never give us only good, being afraid of what blessings He had for us, and knowing that the shoe would have to fall eventually. But they persisted. Even through the two checkups where we heard the heartbeat and I measured the right size, they persisted. Something was wrong and soon we would learn what--I just knew it.

Our one and only ultra sound was scheduled for June 16 at 2:45 p.m. As I tried to sleep on Monday night, I was plagued by dreams and anxiety that I haven't known for years. I woke early on Tuesday morning and laid in bed wishing, willing, praying, breathing away my anxiety. Nothing worked. I spent the day being quite productive in the office--it helped to keep my mind off the knots in my stomach--and left for my appointment at 2:30 p.m. Walking out of the office, I had the overwhelming sense that I would not return the same. I knew that our appointment that afternoon would change everything about our lives.

"Don't WE have a flair for the dramatic," I thought. Then I whispered a prayer that God would prepare us for whatever we would learn that afternoon.

Leaving the parking garage AFTER the appointment, I admitted to God that it would have been hard to be prepared for what we learned. But I thanked Him for doing it anyway.

We got called early for our ultra sound, and I settled in to the bed and the goop and prepared to see our baby for the first time. As the tech zoomed around, we caught a glimpse of Baby. She kept moving, and we saw Baby again. She said, "Is this your first ultra sound?" We said yes. Then she focused on Baby again, but I couldn't see its heart beating. Momentary panic. As focus became more clear, however, we saw a little heart beating away. 146 beats per minute. Strong, solid, consistent. Beautiful.

Then in a quiet voice, the tech said, "I see something else that I have to tell you. There's something here." I cannot express the terror that sets in at words like that. Then rationality: a hole in the heart, a problem with the brain, a missing limb . . . we can deal with these things.

I held my breath, and I'm sure Beau did, too, as we heard her say, "There is a twin, but it's heart isn't beating. It's much smaller, and it stopped growing. I'm sorry."

I'm sorry?!
We're having twins?
Our baby died?
How? Why?
Does this dead baby stay in me until I deliver?
I have to deliver it?!
Will the other baby be okay?
What would we have done with two?
Can I please go home now?

So many questions, and almost no answers. Even worse, so many conflicting feelings flooding my mind. Grief over the baby we lost. Joy over the baby that is there. Relief that we never knew there were twins and didn't have the chance to wrap our hearts around two babies. Pain. Fear. Regret.

Peace.

We were prepared, if you can be. I had known that something was wrong, so I was ready for it, even though I couldn't have dreamed up this reality. We had no reason to suspect twins, and the doctor had nothing but apologies to offer us. But we had more than that. We had peace. We had the knowledge that our beautiful baby--whose gender we may never know--is now Baby Zion, celebrating eternity in heaven with a Father who has always known its identity, its heart, its beauty.

The rest of the ultra sound was thankfully much less eventful. Except for gender, we got every glimpse, picture, and reassurance that we needed from Twin A. And every time the tech typed "Twin," my heart lurched. The true pain came when she needed to record the heart beat, or lack thereof, of Twin B. To watch her push record on a flat line and see our baby on the screen with its still heart . . . I have never known that pain. The true joy came after I got to go to the bathroom (a small joy in itself!), and she resumed the ultra sound on the healthy baby. Up until that point, the position had been wrong to get a picture of its heart. I laid back down, accepted the goop again, and settled in . . . she put the paddle on my stomach, and we were immediately rewarded with a beautiful four-chambered heart. I have never known that relief.

So here we sit. There is one healthy baby in my stomach, and it is kicking me regularly. That, in itself is a gift from God, because I normally only feel it every 2 or 3 days. It kicked me to sleep last night and is reminding me again this morning that life goes on. That I am loved and held and have beheld the true beauty of life--and death--in the presence of God. There is also one dead baby in my stomach, and its little body will remain unchanged while we monitor the growth of its twin. In 20 weeks I shall deliver them both. One will be tested, and the other will test us. One will live with God and in our hearts, the other will live with us and in our arms.

Someday what I have written here, and the kind thoughts we have received from our Family, will perhaps help our living twin to understand what it lost and what it gained in its 14 1/2 weeks shared with Baby Zion. It will be an entry to talk about heaven and eternity and how God carries us. Delivery day, baptism day, birthdays, the first day of kindergarten, graduation, wedding day . . . every day will be tempered with what could have been and what is. We will always wonder, yet we will always rejoice that our Zion is in eternity forever without ever having to spend a day living in sin and pain. To slip from its mother's tummy, from the love it was created with and our desire to have it with us, into a world with no more night is a beautiful thing. It's a sad thing, but it is joyous too.

My grandfather died in September of 1998. My grandmother died last October. My sister's father-in-law, who was like a dear uncle or extra grandfather to my own girls, died in January. Countless friends have lost babies they didn't get to hold. All of these people--these people we love and who loved us--were there to greet our Baby Zion on its arrival on a day in mid May. This is the first of his great grandchildren that my grandpa got to meet. There is comfort there. May they know true joy together until the day that we are greeted by them and can celebrate eternity the way we were made.

We are blessed.

A Subtle Reminder.

"People, I love this country. It's the best Babylon on the face of this earth, but it's still Babylon. This is not the kingdom of God, and my ultimate allegiance belongs to Jesus and so does yours."

- Tony Campolo

Keeping Up Appearances

I honestly thought it would be more romantic than this . . . I'm not referring to marriage or motherhood, though in both instances life is a bit more changing diapers and washing dishes than lingering the days away on the beach or exploring foreign countries.

This 109-year-old farmhouse that is now in the city.

I pictured it as cozy and full of history. It is those those things, but it is a bit more dust and falling apart and cupboards smaller and shorter than reality demands.

I spent the better part of the past two days cleaning. The bleach smell on my hands and the cracking skin lead me to believe that it is likely a bad thing that I can literally count the times I've scrubbed those cupboards (six) and the time that I cleaned under the hood of the stove (yesterday) in the 8 years we've called this home. But there is a party at my house today, and in the interest of keeping up appearances, I have scrubbed cupboards and floors, forced my husband to recaulk the tub and the toilet, put away a month's pile of clothes in the girls' rooms, and sucked cobwebs out of windows, blinds, and crevices.

Come on in, company.

As I was scrubbing the kitchen cupboards, my mind was wondering to how silly it is that I clean and clean only when my house will be full of my casual acquaintances. It's nice to have friends that at least my house can be itself with.

But what about me? Don't I do the same for me when I'm about to walk out of my house? The things I say and the things I do are not always an accurate reflection of myself. It's often an act that I adopt in keeping up appearances. And those appearances aren't even for just the casual acquaintances. I told a friend how much I weigh the other day. She is the only one who knows besides my doctor, and he is bound by doctor/patient confidentiality.

I know it isn't just me, and I know it's important to adopt social skills in public even if I don't really have them in real life. The challenge is this: in a lot of ways I'm embarassed about who I really am.

Perhaps my only resolution for 2009 should be to get appearances and real life come more in line. Instead of resolving to lose 10 20 at least 30 pounds this year or clean my house regularly, I should just resolve to be more real. Not that I shouldn't try to fix those things, but I shouldn't try to fix them just in keeping up appearances. If they embarass me so much that I'm frantic that someone might see them, perhaps I should try to fix them permanently. I just might save myself another four months with a counselor.

So, in the interest of not keeping up appearances:
* I hate exercising. I hate it so much that I just don't do it.
* I wasn't joking when I asked for a creative solution to my lack of self-discipline.
* I hate cleaning. Especially the dishes and the bathroom. Yuck.
* I LOVE food. In fact, I hate how much I love it. No. I don't even hate it. I love loving food.
* Candy is my weakness. Followed by peanut butter, ice cream, and mint. Oh, and red meat. And carbs. See what I mean?
* Sometimes I'd rather read "People" or "US Weekly" than some great work by Dostoevsky. And I'd generally rather discuss the latest celebrity gossip than said great work. Unless it's a David McCullough book . . . no, probably even then.
* I find it difficult to not spend money. Even when it's something I don't want.
* Most days I'd like to be a stay-at-home mom without doing the laundry, washing the dishes, cleaning, cooking, putting kids to bed . . . mostly just the stay-at-home part.
* I have to force myself to pray, and I can't remember the last time I did devotions.

{Deep breath.}
Okay. Now it's out there. Embarassing. Seriously.

Even this blog is judging me. I'm going to go call my therapist.

A Year in Random Review

So 2008 is over, and we're three days in to 2009. If this year is anything like the last, then these three days might as well be three hundred for how fast this year will go.

I don't really get the whole "celebrate 'til you puke" at the sunset of a year or the sunrise of another. Even the worst year of my life--2001, which was also oddly the best--didn't provoke that sort of feeling in me, though there was hope that maybe "this year would be better than the last."

All that said, I do have the desire to somehow recap 2008 with a list of my significant discoveries from the year. Some even with links to demonstrate my internet savvy or perhaps just prove that I'm really not making these things up. Many of my discoveries were wonderful, some were a bit disappointing yet significant, others were rediscoveries, a few were discovered on the very last day possible, and most were actually discovered by others but noticed by me. In the end, electricity, Coca Cola Classic, and the internet are much the same (thanks for that last one, Al Gore).

"Forever" by Chris Brown
iPod Touch
Taylor Swift
Guitar Hero
Missing Grandma
The Favre-less Green Bay Packers
Ben Barnes
Harvey Milk
James Franco
Old Friends
New Friends
True Friends
Michael Buble
"Doubt"
". . . faith and desire and the swing of your hips . . ."
"I ache to remember all the violent, sweet, perfect words that you said"
A friend's baby born with spina bifida
John Mayer's cover of "Free Fallin'"
The twisted emotions of having a deployed soldier
Megan Leigh McDowell
Laughter
Amazing harmonies
Fighting children
Prince Caspian
Knock knock jokes from a three year old
Mrs. Astor Regrets, Meryl Gordon
Hope
Using cash
Death by Christmas tree
David Cook
"Jericho"
Facebook
"Fringe"
"Freaks and Geeks"
Seth Rogen
"I tried to be chill, but you're so hot that I melted . . ."
"Thunder" by Boys Like Girls
Post-partum Depression
Down Came the Rain, Brooke Shields
Edward, Bella, and Jasper {*SIGH*}
Beaver Island
Camping in a pop-up
The ER in Ludington
November 4, 2008

And now for a tribute to those whose passing (regardless of the date) left an indelible mark on me in 2008. . .
Tim Russert
Brooke Astor
May Boatwright
Esther VanderMeer
Harvey Milk
Jesus Christ
Julie's cousin Joshua