Is it True?

Since this blog is like a little online diary for me….

And since it’s not public yet anyway so no one can read it before they are supposed to know…..

It can’t hurt to say: I TOOK A PREGNANCY TEST THE OTHER DAY AND IT WAS POSITIVE!!!!  Actually, both of them were.  I took two. 🙂  They were pretty faint, but a definite line.

It just seems impossible.  It’s too early for me even to have my suspicions, and after last month’s dramatic failure, I was determined never to test again unless I had definite, un-arguable symptoms.  So, there I stood at the kitchen sink, washing dishes, when it flashed through my mind that I had one pregnancy test left in my dresser drawer.  And I felt an obsessive need to take it.  I felt ridiculous, even while I was doing it, and I walked away from it without a glance, thinking of how silly I was going to feel, throwing away yet another negative (and of course, a $3 sign flashed before my eyes.  Another needless expense!).  I can’t describe what happened in my heart and throat when I came back and saw that faint plus sign.  There, but pale.  I took three pictures of it on my cellphone (terrible picture quality!  But the best I had), tucked it in my purse, then ran back to look at it every five minutes, just to make sure I hadn’t imagined it.  It persisted on being there, light yet visible.  “It’s a mistake,” I told myself.  Hence another trip to Wal-Mart, and an anxious night’s sleep, waiting for that ‘first morning urine’ that is said to be the best for testing.

Fast-forward to 3:48 a.m.  I woke up, again, and realized I needed to go the bathroom.  Instantly, I thought of the test waiting for me, and slipped out of bed as quietly as I could.  Again, I refused to watch the results developing, and chose to just wait the three minutes and face the worst.  In my mind, I kept saying, “It was probably a mistake.  This one will show you.”  But my heart was in my throat again when I looked and saw that faint line.  Faint again.  How worrying.  No pictures that time, since my cell phone was in the bedroom and I didn’t want to wake Jordan up, but I did stay awake for awhile and look at it frequently, to be sure my sleepy mind wasn’t playing tricks on me.  All my negatives had been straight-up negative.  Not even a shade of color.  But, surely a positive would be more definite than a pale line, right?  Two agonizing hours of sleeplessness later, I woke up, showered, and texted my mom.

She has assured me that two positives – faint or otherwise – are still positive, and there is a 99 per cent chance I really am pregnant.  I even sent her the terrible, dark, shadowy picture of that first test, and she said she could see it quite clearly.  So it’s not my imagination.

You can imagine how I felt all of Tuesday morning.  Jordan had his Finals at school, so I didn’t want to tell him right away and distract him.  Besides, I wanted it to be a little more special than just “See the stick?  Two lines!”  I have been praying that this would be the month.  Praying that I would conceive, the baby would be healthy and normal and carry to term, we would have a safe delivery, etc, etc, etc…. I am a very long-term pray-er. 🙂 I feel as though my prayers can’t be answered already!  I mean, after all, I am only 3-4 weeks along, and who finds out that early, unless they are tracking their ovulation?  And what if this will just turn into a miscarriage that I would never have known of, if I had not tested so early?

I don’t want to be overcome with fear and feelings of guilt for not deserving thing great blessing.  I want to sit back and enjoy the answered prayer, love the life God has given me, and take what comes.  If it is a healthy baby or a miscarriage, I have a God who makes no mistakes, so why am I afraid that this is too good to be true?

I told Jordan, in spite of my fears that this is so early, and I might still lose the baby.  I wrote him a letter that went something like this:

“Dear Daddy,

Mommy has been telling me how wonderful you are, how well you take care of us, and how handsome and strong you are, but since I don’t have any ears yet, I guess I’ll just have to wait until September, when I can meet you in person.  I’m looking forward to that.  How about you?

Love,

Your Baby”

Also, I made the letters B-A-B-Y out of the scraps of pie dough leftover from the pumpkin pie I had made.  I didn’t know which he would see first: the letter taped on the bathroom mirror, or those letters in the kitchen on a plate, but either way I knew it would be quite a surprise.  He was under the impression that we wouldn’t know anything for at least two weeks.

So, when he offered to run a hot bath for me when we got home from work last night, I was happy to run into the kitchen and get the plate all ready, in case he over-looked the letter.  I could hear him banging around in there, and all of a sudden it was silent.  Very silent.  For what seemed like an eternity!  Finally, he called, “Hey, Joanna!”  “Yes?” I answered, trying to sound like I was busy, and completely unaware of what he had just discovered.  He came into the kitchen, holding the letter, looking a little confused but with glowing eyes. “Um, what does this mean?  I mean, does it mean what I THINK it means?”  “Weeeell,” I said, “That depends entirely on what you “THINK” it means!”  “Are we, uh, having a baby?”  I nodded, unable to keep from splitting my face with a smile.  He was completely overwhelmed, couldn’t do anything but hug me really hard, and half-cry for about five minutes.  I finally asked him if he was ok?  “Yes, I’m just so happy!  Man!  I’m going to have to start being  a better person!”  I just laughed.  I think he’s good enough to be a Daddy just the way he is.

Am I dreaming?  My husband, a Daddy???  “Lord, let this be true.  Let this be a healthy little baby and a good pregnancy.  There are no words to thank You for this answer to prayer.”

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It’s Beginning To Look a Lot Like Christmas!

Two trees + lots of memories + a few new ones = Christmas happiness in the extreme!

And, just to finish off the day, here’s a picture of Jordan and I, enjoying the morning like the laid-back people we are (second-shifters, you know).

Good times!  I’m so thankful to God for this wonderful life He’s given me!  Some days I feel guilty for feeling so happy, because I know how little I deserve it, and what with my man, the new house, countless little wedding presents, and early Christmas presents, and friends, and family, and the list could go on…. I am – almost – happier than the human body can handle.

Our Not-Quite-New House

Our fancy-shmancy moving truck

I wish I had taken a picture of the car, as well as this nice old truck, but alas, the morning was pretty busy.  Up at 5, packing by 6, driving by 8:30 and moving in by 10:30 (well, while helping the previous occupant move out…. long story!)  And yes, Jordan DID make it to work on time at 1:30.  That was such an exciting day!  And a long one, too.  We slept well that first night in our new house.:-)

Home-Sweet-Home!

There she is, in all her glory!  Our little home.  To me, it’s a beautiful sight to behold!

Our living room, after my parents brought the rest of my furniture, and I used some gift cards from the wedding to purchase little niceties such as that lamp with the bell-shaped shade.  I’ve always loved those kinds!  I love how almost everything coordinates just perfectly, and all by ‘chance’, too (if we can call it chance.  I think God takes pleasure in providing those little ‘extra touches’, don’t you?).

My piano!!!!

And this is the lovely old piano my parents gave to me, after having it refurbished.  It’s like having an old, old friend living with me – such a joy, and treasure, not to mention relaxing!  Well, to me, anyway.  Jordan is not used to studying with suround-sound music. 😉

This is the messy room.  The study, the sewing room, the spare bedroom (whatever THAT is!!!  Who could sleep in this mess???), the catch-all of our unpacking process.  Don’t judge.

Our very spacious bedroom.  It’s as big as the living room.  Seriously, you can fit a HUGE mess in this room!  You should see it on laundry day!  Those baskets you see on the floor are only the tip of the ice berg.

And this is our sunny little breakfast nook…or lunch nook, dinner nook, late-night-snack nook…..Actually, we usually just eat in the living room, since the eating space in our kitchen is so tiny, and I tend to just sit there and gaze at the stack of dirty dishes on the counter, which doesn’t lead to very inspiring conversation.

And that, my friends, is our little house (minus portraits of the bathroom and laundry room.  I thought I would spare you!).  It already feels like home, even though  we’ve only lived there about a month and a half.  I actually love staying home and taking care of the place – something I wasn’t quite as fond of at our old place, due to the spiders and darkness.  Besides, this place just feels like home.  I walked around in the dark a few nights ago, looking for something, and stopped to laugh.  You can tell it’s ‘home’ when you can do that without banging into the furniture!

This house is definitely in the “Top Five” of things I’m thankful for this year!

 

 

Just LOVE Christmas!!!

A week ago, we chose our first Christmas tree together.  It was harrowing.  Jordan, dressed to the nines in winter garb, trudged through the melting snow.  I, pathetically unprepared for the event (guess who DIDN’T grow up on a Christmas tree farm?!), trying to step in his footsteps, and squealing and whining every time snow fell into my shoes.  “How about this tree?” Jordan would ask, all optimistic.  “What tree?!!!” I would holler from several yards away, still struggling to reach him.  “The green one,” was his sarcastic remark.  And I would sigh.  He had tried to sell me on the ‘pretty red ones’ at first – which, in case you didn’t know, are in fact DEAD trees.  My most common remark about a tree was, “I…..like it.”  Note the hesitation.

“You ‘like’ it??  But, do you LOVE it?  Can you look me in my eye and say, “Jordan I love this tree and I want it in my house”?”  Well, no.  It’s lopsided.  It has a gap.  Look at that dead branch!   Too thin. With a sigh, Jordan would move on to another row, ever hopeful that the next tree would be my tree of choice.  Patient man.

But at long last, we lighted upon a tree that I liked.  Loved.  Adored.  My hero laid down in the snow, under those thick and liberally dispersed branches I loved so much, and sawed the base, and between the two of us (mostly just one of us, but hey!) we strapped the tree to our car and drove home.  (Can I say here that having a father-in-law who owns a Christmas Tree Farm is soooo handy?)

It consumed our living room.  There was some serious re-arranging needed to accommodate both the tree and our various articles of furniture, but it didn’t matter.  The joy of having a real-deal Christmas tree in OUR little house for first Christmas together made every slight frustration worth it.

Now, thanks to my loving family, who donated some ornaments, and to my great foresight, which saw the need to collect new Christmas decorations with each passing year – and also, to the sentimentality of Jordan’s mother, who kindly saved all the ornaments given him when he was but a babe, as well as those crookedly cut, hideous, homemade mementos of childish Christmases past – we have a beautifully decorated tree.  And house.  And front porch (a light-up nativity given us by his grandparents).  It’s all Christmas there!  And my heart rejoices, because there really is no better season than the Christmas season, in my opinion, with all it’s lights and cookies and surprises and joyful reflections of the year.

Timer, Anyone???

Did you know there was a day when I wore a little timer clipped to my waist?  And that every half hour that little timer ding-donged, reminding me of it’s presence?  Talk about organized!  Until the battery died, I held myself to a (mostly) rigid schedule of half-hour increments, forcing myself to give a written account of the minutes I had lived, and exploring the meaning of ‘redeeming the time’.  It surprised me to discover how much I could accomplish in a five minute span of time.  It also amazed me how many little slots of time I had wasted in absolute mindlessness, when they might have been productive.  I took up projects that were conducive to those scraps of time.  Quilting, for instance.  With enough planning (and an evening spent cutting out the pieces and organizing them into their separate bags), I could pick up my little sewing box, open the lid and begin sewing where I left off.  The ease of this procedure tickled me.  I applied the idea of using ‘little minutes’ to EVERYTHING, for a while.  Crocheting projects sprung to life in my hands – so long as they were a repetitive-enough pattern – knitting, tatting.  Embroidery didn’t work so well, but that’s ok ’cause I didn’t have time for it anyway.  For about a year of my life, you could find me neck deep in one of these projects at almost any time of the day or night.  At home, during family devotions, while waiting for the meal to begin (my mother quickly put as top to this one), sometimes while babysitting, if the kids were watching a movie, and on the road.  Oh! Yes!  On the road!  Many drives to church or the grocery store were spent this way.  I crocheted and knitted until my hands developed a daily ache, and it was at that point that I began to slow down.

Waaaaay down.

By the time Jordan came into my life, I was losing the skill (and the urge) to use up all those spare minutes, and then of course, it was so distracting to have a young man in my life.  Relationship led to engagement led to marriage, in a surge of happenings, and my mental energy was consumed by it.  The months (well, all two-and-a-half of them) before my wedding were honestly the busiest months of my entire life.  The Time Machine gobbled them up in one bite, I think, not bothering to chew them into their little increments of days and weeks.

Then came the reality of married life.  Little, little apartment an hour from civilization.  Spiders, dark corners, damp walls and a heater that didn’t work consistently.  Many days I opted to take the long ride to work with Jordan, and hang out there, bored to tears, rather than spend those quiet hours at home, cut off from everything I knew and loved.

One move and a few weeks later, I am stopping to breath, and think, and absorb the residue of the moments gone, and I suddenly wake up to the realization that THERE IS NO ORGANIZATION TO MY LIFE!!!  Granted, events had been changing so quickly for a time that there was no opportunity to create a schedule before all the important factors had once again changed.  And yet, I miss it.  I miss the meaning in all those little moments, the constant progress of one project or another, the sweet and satisfying sense of accomplishment at the end of the day, and the realization the my time is my own.  I have not given any of it to that which I do not prize and pursue.  I am longing for a timer to clip to my belt, and remind me of the fleeting minutes and the golden opportunities.

In my heart, I know it is a not a timer I need.  It is the discipline of mind to count the hours, to plan ahead, to live with purpose, rather than just let the minutes happen.  It is the inner strength to overcome all my good ‘intentions’ and turn them into actions.  And this discipline, this strength – which I once had, and lost – I must recover now, while I have the chance, before life throws me another curve ball, and I have to bend myself a different way.  Does anybody else feel this way?