We celebrated Gabriel's birthday last night. It was wonderful, in spite of a very bad morning for me. (I was sick, grouchy, harsh, and critical. Lunch time brought many tears and much sorrow, and from there the day began to look up.) Daniel baked his first birthday cake ever, compliments of this being the first birthday we've ever celebrated while I'm in my first trimester of pregnancy, and it turned out great. There was lots of help from family, too: Liana came over and helped me wrap gifts, set the table, and entertain the kids; Carina came and decorated the cake (cake decorating being my least favorite culinary job); and Mom washed dishes after dinner. I really did nothing.

My special boy seemed to enjoy his evening greatly. He certainly isn't feeling 100% yet (Saturday and Monday were throwing-up days for him), but at least his stomach wasn't "hurting." And, as hoped, he came alive when he began opening his drums!

I have many wonderful pictures and a video of him playing his first song on his very own drum set. Unfortunately, our old computer has temporarily quit on us and Daniel's very-new computer has yet to get all the right software installed so I can get pictures up. Many, many apologies. (It shouldn't be long, though.)

About Gabriel:

--he has taken leaps and bounds this year in terms of obedience. We have seen a great deal of improvement when it comes to emotional outbursts, respecting rules and boundaries, and thinking before acting/speaking. As with any of us, there is much growth yet to be seen, but overall the past several months have encouraged Daniel and I that he is beginning to "get it."

--favorite foods are becoming fewer and disliked foods are becoming greater, unfortunately. At least I can take comfort in that one of the all-time favorite foods is canteloupe. Nothing wrong with that.

--he continues to amaze me with his depth of talent and thought. His musical gifting is very real and his questions about life often profound.

--whatever he does, he does it wholly. His undivided focus when playing, talking, thinking, watching a movie-- anything!-- is astounding!

--he loves playing with his Uncle Merrick. I love that my little brother and my son are such fast friends. The almost four years age difference between them is enough that Gabriel thinks Merrick is amazing, while being few enough that they greatly enjoy "pretending" together.

--this Sunday he will attend children's church instead of nursery for the first time. I can't believe how quickly these past 4 years have flown. It really does seem like yesterday that he was my chubby infant.

--he is ever a gift and a blessing to Daniel and I. God knew the challenges and joys that he would mean for us and they are right. I can't imagine what my life would be like without Gabriel. What a merciful, loving, bountiful God I serve.

Today is Gabriel's 4th birthday. Later I hope to write a few things about my very special and gifted boy.

Yesterday, I felt that same nagging feeling that comes with each birthday my oldest celebrates. The same remorse over days lost; time squandered. I look back and see too much frustration and not enough true love. I pause long enough to remember the joy of first knowing motherhood and I feel tears sting my eyes because I have not lived that joy each day.

There is truth to the fact that I have failed much. The problem, of course, is that when my meditations revolve solely around how miserable I am, I grow more discouraged, more disheartened, more doubting, and more faithless.

This morning, I rejected such thoughts. They are not from God.

This morning, I declared aloud the following, taken from "Biblical Confessions to build Your Faith" by Larry Tomczak. I double-dare you to read it aloud yourself and see if it doesn't change your morning as much as it changed mine!

    The righteous man falls seven times, but rises again. Champions don't give up; they get up. One thing I do, forgetting what lies behind, straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus, my Lord. I put my hand to the plow, and I don't look back. I run to win. Zeal for Your house consumes me. The kingdom of heaven comes by violence, and those who take it, take it by force.
    It's not by might, nor by power, but by His Spirit. He ever lives to make intercession for me. He is able to do exceedingly far more abundantly above all that I ever dared think or ask, by the power at work within me. He who began a good work in me will bring it to completion in the day of my Lord Jesus.
    Boldly I can approach the throne of grace to receive mercy and grace for help in the time of need. I'll be anxious for nothing. He will keep me in perfect peace for my mind is stayed on Him. Therefore I enter His rest. I've been crucified with Christ, nevertheless I live, and the life I now live, I live by faith in the Son of God who loved me and gave Himself for me.
    ...This is the day that the Lord has made. I will rejoice and be glad in it. I rejoice with joy unspeakable and full of glory. I rejoice in the Lord always. I do all things without grumbling and complaining. His words were found, and I ate them, and they became unto me a joy and delight to my heart.
    ...I have the set the Lord always before me. Because He is at my right hand, I shall not be moved. Therefore, my heart is glad and my soul rejoices. My body also dwells secure. You show me the path of the life. At Your right hand are pleasures forevermore. I will rejoice in the Lord; I will rejoice in the God of my salvation.
    I wait upon the Lord, and He renews my strength. I will mount up with wings like eagles; I will run and not be weary; I will walk and not faint.

All I can say is that I think I qualify for the Visitor Room whenever I finally make it to church again.

An Overdue (and probably boring) Update:

::So I've definitely had some rough days. The roughest pregnancy days to date.

But on days like yesterday (and even today, for the most part), I can't seem to remember why I was whining so much. Isn't it funny how quickly the misery of before is forgotten when I feel OK today?

::My house is so messy. No, really. I am to embarrassed to even write in a public place how frequently (or infrequently, rather) my bathrooms have been cleaned of late. Please don't ask about the dust on the furniture, the dead ladybugs in the kids' bedroom, the finger-smeared windows, or the week-old crayon on the kitchen wall. I'm trying my best to forget about it all-- with the reminder that, in due time, those things will all be taken care of.

::I've been doing a lot of reading lately, since I've been avoiding most anything that requires movement. I've really been enjoying this series, but have been frustrated by the library sharing system. (I much prefer being able to frequent a library that permanently has titles on the shelves.) It might only take a week to get book #4 in, but it took over 3 weeks to get book #1-- and by then book #4 was due back. This means that I've been reading them all out of order. Fortunately, the series is rather vignette-like, so it can handle being out of order.

::My firstborn will be turning 4 on Monday. 'Nough said.

::For the past month or so, the memory verse of choice has been James 1:17, Every good thing bestowed and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation, or shifting shadow.

Pastor Mike shared a sermon several weeks ago (OK... probably more than several, since I haven't been to church in several weeks) out of James chapter 1. His exhortation on the unchanging nature of God, while a brief point in the overall message, was a good and needed reminder for me. I came home, wrote out James 1:17, and hung it on a kitchen cupboard.

Verses like this are good for my roots, if you know what I mean.

::Next Wednesday I have an appointment with Alison, a midwife practicing in the area. Her first impression on me wasn't a good one, but I realize I'm a bit picky since being so pleased with my midwives in Pittsburgh. If I decide she's worth a try, I'll cancel my appointment with Dr. McCloy on March 5th. While I'm not about to blame my labor problems on management, I definitely prefer the midwife style I was so accustomed to-- involved.

::The best news of my week was, by far, getting the call that she had delivered a beautiful and healthy baby girl! God is so good to His children.

I'm alive.

Just not feeling too good.

This has been a very frustrating couple weeks for me. Between strep throat and pregnancy-sickness, I have been very limited in what I accomplish and have vision for. It's hard to believe that a mere month ago I was waking up early, plowing through my chores, and excited about things outside the home. These days, I wake up feeling like I've been run over by a Mack truck, I do the minimum to keep the house running (if that), and I cry at the mere mention of extra-curricular activities. The occasional good day here and there just doesn't seem to make up for the rest.

Daniel tells me it's worth it-- that it's all part of the labor of love and sacrifice we make for our children.

I tell him that I don't like it.

My theology has been challenged, I will confess. I know in my head that I'm blessed. It's just that when I look at the dirty house, piles of laundry, unbathed children, and thrown-together meals, when I am lurching while making lunch for the kids, grovelling at the toilet, or huddling on the couch in fear of either of those happenings, I don't really feel blessed.

My humility has also been challenged. People are so kind to me, and I can't seem to pull myself together enough to send a thank-you note for the meal that rescued my family or the loaf of bread that was my sustenance for three days. It's hard for me to accept gifts when I know it will at least be a while before I can ever do anything in return. Silly, I know.

So it isn't just that I don't feel good. It's also that I'm learning a lot about me when things aren't going well, when I don't feel a bit pretty or accomplished, when my physical self is failing, and when I'm relegated to some helplessness.

I think it's all very good for me.

I don't think that I can complain about "morning sickness." Not really.

I've known a few too many moms who deal with hyperemesis gravidarum-- literally, "excessive vomiting in pregnancy"-- to feel that I can say much about my queasy tummy.

Even a queasy tummy, though, when forced to make a PB&J sandwich for clamoring toddlers, loses its contents. And, unlike last week, I can't blame it on strep throat this time around.

At least I felt a short reprieve from the nausea for a bit afterwards. I finished making and serving lunch without resenting my family's need for food one bit.

And so I wonder what the next 6 or so weeks will be like for me. Part of me wants to feel badly for myself. A bigger part of me is thankful I'm not sicker than I am. Most of me is wanting to fast-forward time-- just this once.

If Daddy is home in the evening (which he is tonight, due to the bad weather canceling worship team practice), the kids and Daddy play football. It's really very hilarious to watch, so I thought I would share the fun.

I felt like a real grown-up mom yesterday.

I made my first ever Hanna Andersson order.

Ever since Bronwyn was born-- even before, really-- I thought I would order one of the infamous play dresses from Hanna, with matching leggings and socks and all. Camilla wore one as a baby. I remember it being the softest and cutest and most play-able dresses of all time. Definitely worth the money, right?

Well, I guess I'm cheap. Because as much as I admire and love the baby clothing in the Hanna catalogs, and as much as I think these dresses are wonderful, I could never bring myself to spend the money they require. Even the pilot caps my babies have worn have either been given to me or handed down from siblings-- and, believe me, aside from pilot caps and the soft knit gowns Mom bought for Gabriel and Bronwyn when they were brand-new infants, they aren't what you would call "Hanna babies." (In other words: they don't wear Hanna stuff.)

Yeah, I'm cheap.

But yesterday, I took the plunge.

Maybe it wasn't so terrible because I've been thinking about it for 2.5 years now. I've been looking at the prices, watching the sales (wouldn't you know they always sell out of the toddler sizes first, so I can never get them when they're truly on sale?), and growing accustomed to the expensive nature of Hanna clothing.

Either way, I felt pretty grown up yesterday.

And I can't wait for the order to arrive in the mail.

My oldest boy's birthday is quickly approaching. I'm trying not to think about this much, mostly because I still feel pretty awful and can't fathom getting ready for a party. I remind myself that I've still 2 weeks before I need to be back in the saddle and getting things done. That helps. We don't invite a lot of friends over for birthdays-- last year he asked for Colin and Renee to be his special guests-- but once you add in family (Sinclairs and Daniels), we've got quite a crowd on our hands.

Fortunately, our shopping was finished a while ago. Unfortunately, the gift we chose was on backorder. Even more fortunately, we recently got notice that it has shipped-- just in the nick of time.

We're making the big splurge this birthday and the amount we're spending is justified in part by calling it an "educational expense." Many family members are also contributing to the gift by buying pieces of it to give to him as their gifts.

(For the record, we got it in black, since that is his color of choice when it comes to drums. This was simply the only picture they offered.)

It's a junior set, but pretty sophisticated all the same. The heads are all tunable and the name recognizable, which we're hoping means for a half-way decent sound. The best part is that even if he can't reach the pedals right away, he'll be able to in just a few short years. For those of you who know Gabriel, you know that the dream of his life is to be big enough to reach the pedals on a drumset.

I can't wait to see the look on his face when he opens it. I'll be sure to take lots of pictures-- and a video or two of him playing, as well.

I am feeling better today. My throat doesn't hurt quite so much and the congestion that had me gagging to the point of throwing up on Thursday and Friday seems to have subsided some. I actually slept last night. It was the first time in a week that I wasn't up at least once an hour.

* * * * *

Daniel says I must officially concede that Jackson is walking. I protest and say that the number of times he falls means that it isn't official. But really, I know it is.

And since I've admitted to Jack's walking, I will say that it's pretty cute to watch him toddle about, hands outstretched in either direction in an effort to stabilize his off-kilter balance. It's especially cute because he's so proud of himself.

* * * * *

I've been sitting a lot this week. Which means I've been reading a lot. Which means I've been thinking a lot.

I was thinking a couple days ago about how much better I ought to be at motherhood; about the lack I see in myself when I look at what today's culture esteems as an "invested" mother. My children aren't enrolled in pre-school groups and I don't arrange for playdates. Trips to the library happen rarely-- and when they do, it's usually an activity Daddy leads the older ones in while I stay behind with the baby. I've never built a snowman with Gabriel and I stink at playing "cowboys." And thinking about it all made me tired.

But then I was considering what the Bible says an "invested" mom looks like:

"Hear, O Israel! The Lord is our God, the Lord is one! You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your might. These words, which I am commanding you today, shall be on your heart. You shall teach them diligently to your sons and shall talk of them when you sit in your house and when you walk by the way and when you lie down and when you rise up. You shall bind them as a sign on your hand and they shall be as frontals on your forehead. You shall write them on the doorposts of your house and on your gates.
--Deuteronomy 6:4-9 NASB

And I didn't feel tired. I felt renewed. I felt encouraged. I felt why I love being a mom again.

I felt grateful for His Word.

* * * * *

There are many things weighing on my heart for other people today. I don't always know what to pray, especially in difficult times that we know will come as we journey through life in a fallen world.

Except that I know to pray for grace and love. For Christ. For peace. For redemption.

And that's enough, I remind myself.

* * * * *

My bedroom is a disaster. Other than that, though, Daniel has managed pretty well.

It really does amaze me that he truly doesn't know what to do with raw meat, raw veggies, and uncooked rice. But that's OK. He does a lot of other things that I truly don't know what to do with.

A familiar Psalm, in a different translation:

My choice is you, God, first and only. And now I find I'm your choice! You set me up with a house and yard. And then you made me your heir! The wise counsel God gives when I'm awake is confirmed by my sleeping heart. Day and night I'll stick with God; I've got a good thing going and I'm not letting go. I'm happy from the inside out, and from the outside in, I'm firmly formed. You canceled my ticket to hell-- that's not my destination! Now you've got my feet on the life path, all radiant from the shining of your face. Ever since you took my hand, I'm on the right way.
--Psalm 16:5-11 The Message

So, yes, this is the latest.

Well, the real latest is that I'm almost positive I have strep throat. (At least, the white patches on the very back of my mouth along with aches, chills, and headache seem to indicate strep throat, though there is also the possibility that it is some strain of a viral infection that I also hear has been making the rounds.) It is the most awful sickness I have ever had. I can't really eat because of how swollen my throat is and I'm definitely having trouble sleeping because of the pain. The only reason I'm functioning enough to write is because I took some Tylenol a bit ago so I could take a nap and eat (both of which I managed after the pain was eased a bit).

But the latest good news is that we're expecting again!

I kind of found out by surprise. I had nothing to indicate that I might be pregnant (though nothing to indicate that I wasn't, either), except that I felt the Lord tell me to buy a home pregnancy test before working things out with my insurance to get the diflucan for the thrush Jackson and I have been battling. You may remember that I needed to have the prescription pre-authorized before I could get it. Well, that day when I came home from the pharmacy, I didn't bring back diflucan but 2 pregnancy tests. I felt a little sheepish when I told Daniel. The idea that it was God putting that thought in my heart was feeling less and less probable and that my hormones were just nuts was feeling more and more likely. So I tucked the tests in a cabinet.

A couple days later, I'd tried to deal with the thrush using Gentian Violet to absolutely no avail. I was in so much pain and wanted relief now. But I couldn't make the phone call to my doctor asking her to get the prescription pre-authorized without shaking that feeling of being disobedient to what God had said. So, in desperation to ease my conscience and convinced I was just going crazy anyway, I took a pregnancy test and walked away, picked up the phone and dialed the number, came back to the test as the doctor's office was ringing, and was amazed (shocked?) to see the telltale + sign I certainly hadn't expected.

What?!?!

Naturally, I didn't believe it. But, of course, I couldn't finish my phone call to the doctor, either. I waited a couple more days and took another test. I'm not sure why I was just as astounded the second time around to see it positive, but I was. I called my doctor, this time to ask for bloodwork because I just wasn't yet convinced. Some bloodwork and a couple more days later, the nurse told me over the phone that I definitely am pregnant. And that was when it really sunk in.

Don't get me wrong: I'm not upset or bothered by this. I was just really surprised.

My estimated due date is based on nothing but feelings and "mom intuition." I could be totally wrong. But, hey!-- so far this mom's intuition has carried me pretty far. I am sure I am at least this far along-- could be more. (While I'm not sure which medical practice I want to go with for this pregnancy, I am fairly certain that any practice will want me to get an early ultrasound to better determine an estimated due date. As long as we get it early enough, I am content going with such testing.)

Please pray for us if you think of us. I am very sick and struggling to get the nutrients I know I need to continue fighting thrush (I am winning the battle, but it's been slow-going and I don't really want to lose ground), battle strep throat (or whatever this is), sustain a pregnancy, and breastfeed Jackson. The demands are high and my health poor. It isn't fun. (But don't worry, I know my body can do it all. It just needs extra help right now.)

Daniel has been wonderful. He has canceled everything the rest of this week so he can be home with the kids and I. (Gabriel began complaining this afternoon of being cold and his head hurting, which is exactly how I started this whole thing...) He's trying to care for the children, care for me, manage the home, fit in work-related phone calls, do laundry (scary!), fix meals, etc., most of which doesn't come entirely naturally for him. He can clean pretty well compared to most guys-- and probably a lot of girls-- but he's at a loss when it comes to doing Bronwyn's hair or cooking meals or using our washing machine. I'm impressed with how much of a trooper he's being in it all, but I know he's already tired-- and we most likely have a bit of a haul ahead of us before I'm back to feeling good.

God has been good to us. I feel He is especially good to me, as He continually makes sure I don't fall prey to loving routine more than I love grace.


*Edit: Currently I am gargling 1/2tsp colloidal silver 5x/day, taking 1000mg vitamin C/day, 1tsp elderberry concentrate 3x/day, and 1/2tsp oregon grape 2x/day. I am eating at least 1c of yogurt/day, I have cut out white flours and sugars, and will hopefully get more keifer in the house soon. If there is something in addition to all of this that you suggest I do to get rid of the infections, I would love to hear. Due to the pregnancy, I absolutely am not comfortable taking antibiotics. We're going to have to kick these infections the old-fashioned way.*

Priceless is:

having your 2.5 year old little girl, hair undone but grin spread from one cheek to the other, say, Mama, you're my 'pecial gi-irl.


* * * * *


Quote of the day:

It is impossible to do everything people want you to do. You have just enough time to do God's will. If you can't get it all done, it means you're trying to do more than God intended for you to do (or, possibly, that you're watching too much television).

-The Purpose Driven Life

So I've gotten over being weirded out by some of the "footprints" I was receiving a bit ago. I suppose I'm allowed to have my "overly-protective, paranoid-mommy moments," right?

Last night I didn't watch the game beyond the beginning of the 2nd quarter, although I really do enjoy football and was rooting very thoroughly for the Colts. In fact, when I stopped watching "my" team was just barely claiming the lead after some pretty crazy game-playing. (I imagine the half-time talks by the coaches went something like this: "Tonight we're playing football. It's a game that involves two teams who each have an end-zone-- and you are one of the two teams playing. There is a fairly sizeable lemon-shaped ball that you are trying to get in your end zone. It is best to not give the ball to the other team, as this will seriously mess up your attempts at getting the ball in your end zone...")

My head, neck, and shoulders ached very badly. I needed to be done watching. I needed bed and sleep.

This morning, I woke to a tightly constricted throat and fuzzy eyes. And I'm just hoping beyond hope that I'm not coming down with strep throat. (It's been going around.)

While sickness never comes at a good time, I was blessed in that arrangements for a sleepover at Nana's house for Gabriel and Bronwyn had already been made before I started feeling terrible. (Have I ever mentioned that living near family is a huge blessing?) And Daniel did "Jackson" duty during the night, which meant I only had to wake up enough to nurse him twice, since he was brought to me and then back to his bed by Daddy both times.

And this, my friends, is my pathetic update. I'm too tired to think of anything but how awful I feel. (Pretty self-centered of me, eh?)

I remember bringing Gabriel to the doctor for his 6-month check-up more vividly than I remember any of his othercheck-ups. This may be, in part, because it was my first experience with explaining quietly but firmly to a physician why I don't like certain immunizations. (I was unduly nervous about it, since my doctor was really not unpleasant about the whole thing.)

But it's also because after logically and intelligently discussing immunizations-- what they are for, what ages they are potentially harmful, etc.-- I mentioned Gabriel's very dry skin to the doctor. And it was right then that we once again went back to the familiar role of him knowing a whole lot more about babies and children than I did.

Not unkindly, but somewhat condescendingly, he said, "To this day I can't figure out why moms bathe their infants daily. They cause more trouble than harm. You know it totally dries his skin out, don't you? Just stop bathing him so often."

In spite of feeling a bit like a fool (but not really, because books and websites on parenting would make any mother think that all the good moms bathe their children daily), I remember mostly feeling a flood of relief.

Gabriel didn't like taking baths. I didn't like giving them. And suddenly I'd been given permission-- even encouragement!-- to stop going through the tormenting procedure of bathtime every single day.

I stopped bathing Gabriel daily right then. I haven't bathed a child two days in a row-- except when absolutely necessary-- since then. I will confess that I haven't been able to go down to fewer than 3 baths/week. (My kids are either slobs or I just like them smelling nice a little too much.) But without daily baths, we don't have skin issues.

I just wish all parenting challenges could be dealt with so swiftly and simply.

I'm not a gadget sort of person. I keep the basics around-- and not much else.

In fact, today I was wondering why I have a blender. I don't use a blender. I rarely have. I rarely will. Why do I have a blender?

Insulated baking sheets, a good 9"x13" pan, the basic pots and pans, one wood block full of knives, a set each of measuring cups and measuring spoons, a few rubber spatulas and a metal one, etc. are enough for me. I get frustrated when I have to paw through too much to get what I want-- especially if the pawing turns up items I rarely use.

Gadgets aren't the kind of thing I use. (Does anyone who has to wash everything by hand use gadgets? My motto is generally that less is less washing, and it's a working motto.)

But there's one gadget I love. It gets used almost daily. It doesn't take much time to wash. It didn't cost much to buy. And it comes from a really cool place.

This is my beloved gadget:

Spain, Self-preservation, and Sacrifice

Daniel has asked me to prayerfully consider him returning to the missions field this summer.

Upon Daniel's return from 3 weeks in Spain last summer, he told me how he knew he'd go back, though he knew not when. He's been to Mexico, Africa, China and Spain, and has been impacted by every place, but Spain has put a special claim on his heart. There is a field ripe unto harvest there and the need for laborers is overwhelming. I am blessed to have a husband who sees the nations desperate for a Savior and who so desires to bring the Gospel to them.

But I will confess to not really wanting to ask God about this one.

It isn't the time with him gone that is so difficult for me to consider, though solo-parenting is certainly about 10x more challenging than when there is an actively participating Daddy on the scene (even if the kids and Daniel only cross paths for an hour each day, I am always amazed at the difference it makes!), but rather the way our summer evaporates when he is gone for that long right smack-dab in the middle of it. Last year, we no sooner ended a month busy with wrapping up the spring semester, attending graduation parties and weddings, keeping up with extra church activities, working on the driveway project, etc., and he was off. Within 24 hours of his return, we were out the door to travel countless hours for another wedding. Two weeks after that, we were on the road again for a youth conference Daniel led worship for (and the two weeks were full of plotting out the fall semester, not relaxing). After the conference, we went to my aunt's in Long Island for a brief 6-day vacation before returning home just two short days before the semester began.

Overall, it wasn't really my idea of a good time. And so I am reluctant to ask God.

You see, I am self-preservationist. I am stingy. I worry and fret about the children (all the while knowing deep in my heart that the best gift we can give them is an example of Kingdom sacrifice). I don't like things that mean more work, less sleep, and less fun. I tend to be rather myopic and self-centered in my decision processing (which is exactly why I am undeservedly blessed to have a husband who is not).

Yet, in spite of my own reservations, I have promised to go before the Lord with this possibility. It isn't easy for me, but it is good for me.

If you feel like praying for me while I'm praying, I'll take it.