in Bed... for awhile.

Another blog written about pregnancy... before we were telling people we were pregnant. 

Tuesday, February 12, 2013

Even though we had good results from the blood work, our worry and fear didn't stop after that first visit to the doctor. The spotting continued for another week and a half. So we were back at the office for an ultrasound... once again to check if our baby was still alive.

The morning of the exam, I passed a clot the size of the nickel. Terror. But, we saw the heartbeat! Sigh of relief. I couldn't believe it! I honestly thought that it was over, I wasn't pregnant anymore and it would be only bad news. Praise Jesus that wasn't true! Our baby was alive and doing well. But there was a small subchorionic bleed. Not serious for the baby, but required rest until the bleed resolved itself.

So began 5 days of semi-bed rest. (which eventually became almost 14 weeks of semi-bed rest. Seriously, I could barely even go to pottery class!)

Once again, all I could do was lay there and let God do His thing. Literally, there was nothing I could do but lay there and trust Him.

Today was the follow up with the Doctor. To bid my time and distract myself before the appointment, I watched The Prince of Egypt.  [Seriously, don't put eye make-up on before watching this movie if you're pregnant. Seriously. First scene. Tears. Lots and lots of tears.]

No, I didn't put this movie in because I had already gone through all of the other DVDs in our house. I've been reading through the book of Exodus recently, and when you read about the parting of the Red Sea, you just want to see it. Now, I have been doubtful about the relevancy of this book to my present life. I mean come on, I don't live in Egypt, I'm not wandering through the desert and I've never been forced to build a pyramid by first making the bricks out of mud and straw. But, surprisingly, I've drawn a lot of comfort from this epic book.

What really caused the tears to flow today was considering Moses' mom, Jochebed.

The Bible says a lot of things about Jochebed... she was Moses' mom. She was an Israelite slave. She knew that Pharaoh was coming to kill babies. She put her youngest son into a basket coated with tar and set him afloat in a river.

The Bible doesn't say why Jochebed sent her baby floating down a major waterway... did God tell her to? Did she just hope he would be picked up somewhere safe? Was she thinking it's better if he died "naturally" then at the end of a sword? Did she simply set him adrift and pray that God would keep him safe?

Whatever her reasons, Jochebed gave up control of her tiny son. She didn't know if he would live or die, but she took a great risk and left him totally at the mercy of God. She knew she was powerless to keep him safe, and she let God take over.  Moses' mother let God have complete control of her son; and God used him to lead a nation.

What will God do with my children if I let him?

in Stability

A blog about the Baby... written before we were telling people that we're pregnant. 

Monday, February 11th

A friend had a quote on her blog the other day...

If life were stable, I'd never need God's help.  Since it's not, I reach out for Him regularly.  I am thankful for the unknowns and that I don't have control, because it makes me run for God. 

(Francis Chan)

I copied it onto our bathroom mirror with Dry-erase marker. It is something I have repeated to myself over and over these past few weeks. What else can you do when you are waiting for the results of a blood test that will tell you whether your baby is alive or dead? 

We found out we were pregnant early... at 3 1/2 weeks. So when I started spotting a week later, it was pretty awful... it was still too early for an ultrasound, too early for the comfort of a moving baby, too early to even tell people we were pregnant. A few friends called, texted, sent Facebook messages to find out what was going on... "why did I go from being so excited to so quiet and scared?" "you're on my mind, what's going on?" "I heard you're pregnant, how you feeling?" So I gathered these people asked them to pray, then held on tight. There was nothing else to do but wait.  

A blood test on Monday to check my initial hormone level... wait, wait, wait. Watch the clock on Tuesday. Try not to lose my mind. Distract myself as much as possible. Clock ticking... slowly, slowly, slowly... willing the sun to set faster, to rise sooner. The sun doesn't listen to me. Follow up blood test on Wednesday... if the hormone level has doubled, the baby is still alive. Wait 5 hours for the results... drive to a friend's house so I don't lose my mind. Pray. Pray. Pray. 

Finally get a call back 15 minutes before the office closes... hormone level has doubled. Praise God. 

Those 2 1/2 days were the most helpless I have ever felt in my entire life. There was literally nothing I could do to change the fate of my baby. God had already written the number of days of his/her life... and it is not in my power or control to change that. But I can pray. and I can worship. and I can trust God. and I can give up control. 

and this is not the last time in this Baby's life that I will have to do that. It is only the beginning of this lesson... and in the end, God will still be more faithful, more loving and more good than I can ever understand. 

in your Future?

Just received the February 2013 update from HOPAC. There are a number of positions available for next year... I highly, Highly, HIGHLY recommend you click on the link below, pray about it, and see what God says! :)

The Best Job Ever... by Amy Medina

in Significance

I started my last blog, in Sorrow, by writing about the death of my Grandpa. But that post wasn't about him. This post is.

Grandpa Bob with Bonnie and myself, Summer 2010

My Grandpa Bob was an interesting, stubborn, intelligent, varied, playful, scary man. He fought in France during WWII... and he had the German uniform and Nazi flag, plucked from a liberated building, to prove it. Once he set his mind on a business deal, vacation spot or restaurant, you couldn't change it. I was afraid of him for much of my childhood, but as I grew up and he mellowed significantly, I came to appreciate his giant, rib-crushing bear hugs. He started working in the Texas oil fields as a teenager, and continued to be a hard worker... even after he retired! He passed away a month shy of his 90th birthday... and even though he was old, could barely walk, and was losing a crippling battle with diabetes, he would still get down on the floor to play with his grandkids.

But I already knew all of this before his funeral. When my Dad delivered an amazing eulogy, none of this information was new to me.

But then my Dad told another story. One that only my Aunt Sue and the members of a small Spanish congregation on the West side of Houston knew about.

Every weekend. my Grandpa insisted that my Aunt Sue drive him to church. (I told you he was stubborn!) But it wasn't the church that he had been attending since before I was born. It wasn't the church where he was a member. It wasn't even a church that he could understand! It was a Spanish congregation that was renting the building where my Grandpa had attended services. And Grandpa went faithfully, every week.

My Grandpa didn't speak Spanish.
My Grandpa didn't understand any of the music.
My Grandpa couldn't even stay awake for most of the message.

But he still went every week.

And at the funeral, almost the entire church family came to pay their last respects to my Grandpa Bob. And when my Dad asked their pastor why they had all come, he responded that Bob was one of the most encouraging, supportive men he had even met. A Pastor, encouraged by an old man who couldn't understand him or stay awake during his sermons.

This is significant.

at Galveston Beach in Texas

This year, as I have laid aside my jobs, my travels, my "spiritual spotlight," and my identity as a single woman, I have struggled with feeling insignificant... wondering if I have a purpose or impact on the people and world around me. Since September when these moments have occurred, I have remembered my Grandpa Bob... and realized that as long as I am open to God's plans (whatever they may be!), then nothing is insignificant.

in Sorrow

It has been a few months since I have written.
The last time I posted, it was a Monday morning.
That Monday evening, my Dad called to let me know that my Grandpa had died.
I cried a lot that week.

But this post isn't about him.

That was the second death Michael and I have had to face in our short married life.

The first was only a few weeks after we were married... or more specifically, a few weeks after our honeymoon.

We had decided to wait a bit before starting a family... we had only been a couple for about 9 months by the time we got married, so we wanted to discover a little more about "us" before we became an "all of us." But, as it turns out, we weren't so great at the steps involved in preventing a pregnancy and by the time our flight landed back in Columbus, I was nauseous, exhausted and couldn't stand the smell of rice cooking. (Seriously, who knew rice could stink so badly?!?) By the time the pregnancy was confirmed, it was nearly over. And I grieved... by shedding a few tears and saying, "Well, we'll meet our baby in heaven. She'll be easier to raise there anyway."

Because humor is my defense mechanism.

It was after my Grandpa died, and my car broke down so I couldn't go to the Farm, and the laundry was done, and the house was clean that I found myself with nothing to do on a Tuesday afternoon. So I asked God what He wanted me to think about... and He said, "Your baby."

And I burst into tears.

and when Mike called three hours later to say he was on his way to guys night, I sniffled into the phone, "Please come home." So he held me on the couch while I cried a few more hours. All the guilt that it was somehow my fault, anger that my body didn't do what it was supposed to do, loss at the fact that I was a mother but couldn't raise my child, and disappointment from dreams deferred came washing over my husband's shoulder and the couch pillows.

and it was good.

During my illness, when I was suffering without relief and God seemed strangely quiet, a friend recommended this book. It made quite an impact on my life. If you haven't read it, go! now! read it! and I'll tell you what my friend told me... "I'd loan you my copy but you're going to want your own so just buy it now. " (But she's British so you have to imagine it with an accent. :)

There is a passage, from pg. 202 that has stuck with me...

“... how very fragile our faith must be if we can’t just remain sad, scared, confused and doubting for awhile.... We race disconcerted to make meaning and find beauty where there simply is none. Yet.”

I don't like to stay sad, scared, confused and doubting. I want to get to the parts about heaven and resurrection and new life and move on. But that's not the world we live in. We live in a world of hurt and pain and sorrow. And I need to live in it.

and 6 months later, when it hits me that I would be buying baby clothes and painting a nursery and picking out names, I stop and feel sad and let God remind me that He is loving, and He is wise and He has things perfectly timed out in a way that will bring Him the most glory... And also that He's God so He gets to do that.

in Love (Part 4)

September 17, 2011.... 

Michael and I were officially dating. I was elated! I was excited! I was a bit nervous because somewhere in the US was a computer monitoring the changes in my heartbeat from the monitor I was wearing around my neck. (I was afraid some sort of alarm was going off somewhere every time Michael would hug me! He still remembers the First Alert lanyard with fondness... ) But Michael was there for me... when I was nervous about the stress tests and the EKGs, he talked me through it, having had to go through similar testing himself. When the doctors discovered an irregular heartbeat and put me on medication to control it, Michael was able to knowingly comfort me because his sister-in-law had been through similar difficulties. God's timing is perfect! After years of waiting and struggling and helping friends get down the aisle, God broke my heart at just the right time so He could provide a man who knew how to help me pick up the pieces.

Our first "official" date was at a nearby Mexican restaurant. Sitting across from Michael at the table, I was suddenly nervous and tongue-tied... what do I say now that we are a "couple"? Michael broke the ice by telling me that after our "chance" dinner and long conversation the summer of 2010, he had spent a number of months trying to figure out how to "casually" visit me in Dar es Salaam. After realizing the excuse "I was in the neighborhood and thought we could have a coffee" wouldn't work, he explained that he had given up on the idea but felt like he couldn't ask me to give up and leave a place where God had asked me to serve. Torn between what he wanted and how he saw God using me, he did the only thing he could do... he didn't tell me to stay or come home, he just prayed for me. (Sometimes prayer moves mountains... and sometimes prayer buys plane tickets to cross an ocean.) After listening to Michael and spending time with him on a date, I drove home and completely freaked out.

"AHHHH! I can't date a guy in America, I live in Africa! And this guy is amazing, but isn't there a rule about friends and boys...? Does dating mean we can't be friends anymore? AHHH! What if there is something seriously wrong with my heart, will he still like me if I'm sick? What if I want to still live overseas and he doesn't? What if he wants to live overseas and I can't anymore? I've never been anyone's girlfriend before, what if I'm really bad at it! AHHHHHH!"

As I freaked out and prayed, God chuckled and led me to Song of Solomon 2: 10-12: "See! The winter is past, the rains are over and gone. Flowers appear on the Earth; the time of the singing of birds has come...." (Michael told me later about Him using the same verse in their conversation.)
Then God told me to check the list.

"Yeah, right, God. That list is stupid, I made it in college. Everybody says not to have a list. I can't check that."

"Ahem. WHO says not to have a list? I'm GOD, remember? I win. Check the list." (God is very gracious with me when I argue back with Him. :)

I pulled out a wrinkled piece of watercolor paper that I had used my best black pen to write a list of the traits I wanted in a husband my junior year of college... 10 years earlier, a year before I had even met Mike. I was reading a book called Lady in Waiting at the time. This book was pretty big among the single girls in college at the time. It was centered on the life of Ruth and encouraged you not to wait for a man but to serve God faithfully wherever he has you. (Not sure if I would recommend this book now... haven't read it in years. But I guess it was helpful at the time I first read it.) The book also encouraged you to not settle for any man, but to wait for a "Boaz," a loving, faithful man who served God above all else. So I made a list of a number of character traits I wanted in a husband... traits like loving, kind, forgiving, prayerful, seeks appropriate relationships, desires children, etc.all backed up with Biblical evidence... and a few bonus ones like plays the guitar and will dance with me in the kitchen. Over the years, in my cynicism and disappointment, I had crumbled and thrown the list away numerous times. But each time, through my tears, I would feel led to pull it back out and to keep hoping. (I would usually do this while saying something really holy and spiritual like, "Fine, God but you and I both know that this is stupid and pointless. But whatever!" :)

I smoothed out the paper and read through the words that lines of despair had tried to erase. Michael met everyone... almost. He got the bonus round (dancing and playing guitar) but there were 2 on there that I just didn't know about, yet. I hadn't "seen them in action." But I didn't have long to wonder...

The next day I drove to Columbus to meet Michael because before we were dating we had planned a trip to Cleveland to see friends. When Michael opened the door of his house, something was wrong.

"We have to talk," he said.

My heart dropped.  "Well, that didn't last long," I thought. Some stuff had come up during the week that we needed to talk through. So that night, we had our first hard conversation. (You know, the ones you try to avoid but when you finally have them, it's so good to just be able to talk about it?) Normally, this would be another insignificant fact, fading into memory and a catalog of past moments that only resurface when triggered by a short song clip that pounces on you while scanning through radio stations during a commercial break. But this conversation dealt with two very specific things... 2 very specific traits... traits that I hadn't yet seen in Michael... traits that completed a list that I had written 10 years ago while dreaming of another life.

Michael Schlatt was the man of my dreams.
God wasn't kidding when He said Delight yourself in me and I will give you the desires of your heart. (Ps, 37:4)

6 months after our first date, Michael proposed... in a food court at a mall, in front of my family and a number of my friends. He had my sister in on all the planning, so she had an appointment set to shop for wedding dresses the next day. Two days later, we booked the reception hall... the last day open for the entire summer which just happened to be one of our two free weekends.

10 weeks later we were married. Yes it was fast, but when God is in charge of the timing, He makes things happen exactly when they need to.


and whatever became of that pesky heart problem? Michael waited 6 months to propose because we didn't know if I was going to be moving out of the country again. I was supposed to be back in Africa September 2012. But at the end of January, my doctor told me she was going to keep me in the country at least another year until the medication had stabilized me. Shortly after that, Michael started ring shopping. Eight months later, I was seen by a new cardiologist... new marriage, new city, new doctor. This doctor looked at me, looked at my tests, looked at my age, listened to my heart and said, "I don't think you have a heart problem. Get off the medication." So I did. Six weeks later and my EKGs are NORMAL! No medicine, no irregular heartbeat... no heart problem.

Was it a misdiagnosis? Has my heart rehabilitated after an injury in Africa? Have I been miraculously healed? I don't think it matters. God is still in charge of all of it, and He is glorified!

But it does now appear that the purpose of my "heart problem" was to get me State side so God could fulfill my heart's desires! He is mysterious and He does work in His own time, but He is still God and He is oh, SO GOOD!

in Love (part 3)

September 2011... The story of how we "officially" started dating.

Thursday afternoons in Ohio can take on a number of different forms... drippy and chilled, warm sun with a clear sky, grey and despairing. I have no idea which one of these possibilities was THAT Thursday. The weather was unimportant to note on this day, this Thursday, this day that seemed like a regular Thursday. I know I had soup for dinner that night because I always had soup for dinner on Thursday nights. It was a small group night and soup was an integral part of our gatherings. I planned for that. I didn't plan to receive a certain text message from Michael that would change my life. (and yes, it really did feel as dramatic as I am making it sound.)

That Thursday afternoon, I was making banana bread. This fact is normally not worth mentioning since I am always baking some sort of bread type substance that has some form of bananas in it. (You think I'm kidding but I have Banana Muffins in my fridge right now and I am planning on doing some more baking later today. I am so well known for it, in fact, that I once paid rent just by baking banana bread for breakfast every week!) Michael has known me quite awhile, so he knows this thing about Banana Bread and me. Again, usually another non-important fact, which would lead a person to question the validity or wisdom in included a paragraph about Banana Bread in a love story! However, on this day, this Thursday, this non-descript-weather-September-day-in-Ohio-Thursday, I was baking banana bread; and when it was finished, I sent a quick text message to my friend, Mike Schlatt: "I just pulled a loaf of banana bread out of the oven. Haha!"

Yes, it was flirty; yes, it was crossing over the "Are we still just friends?" line; but I did it anyway. And I received two text messages in return...

"You are such a tease."

"I like it." 

and my mouth dropped open. I would have stopped perfectly still and pondered the weight of this for a few minutes, but I was coasting down a hill on Sharon Road, driving to small group. There was no time to stop and ponder, no time to wonder about the impact of this on my life, no time to reply. (Not enough stop lights between there and my destination.) 

I don't remember anything we studied that night or anything that may or may not have happened over the next few weeks. I remember talking to Michael every night on the phone for the next two weeks. I remember receiving more text messages, of the increasing flirty variety... "I logged onto Facebook just to look at your pictures. Is that creepy?" "If you stop by Columbus on your way home from Cleveland, maybe we can have dinner...?" and "Apple picking with your hair in braids? You're so cute I can't stand it!" My response to all these lovely thoughts? Panic and confusion. I showed the messages to a friend, "What does he mean? What is he saying?"

Her response: "It means he thinks you're cute. He likes you."

"That can't be it. Let's ask your husband, he knows Mike and speaks 'boy'. Let's see what he thinks"

His response: "It means he thinks you're cute. He likes you."

"But what do you think he is trying to say? What is his hidden meaning?"

Their response: "He thinks your're cute. He likes you."

It seemed too good to be true. 

As a long-time single girl who had survived numerous heart breaks and had often been treated like the "other girl", the "helpful best friend", and heard the "I'd hate to ruin our friendship by dating you" line, I expected that one day I would just have to settle for "some guy" that I had slowly whittled down through kindness served with baked goods, and after somehow tricking him into marrying me, we would "settle down comfortably" for the rest of our lives. The fact that Michael was calling me, texting me, pursuing me, excited to spend time with ME just seemed too good to be true. I had no idea that he had been praying about it, seeking God's face in it. When I had asked God about the "are we still just close friends?" question, He had always responded, "Wait for Michael." I figured that meant wait until I had worn Michael down enough until he wanted to date me. I had no idea it meant "Wait because he really likes you and wants to pursue you, I just haven't given him the green light, yet." "Wait because this is going to be totally worth it!" "Wait because you Trust Me and oh, have I got something good planned for you!!" 

It just seemed too good to be true.

So as I drove home from visiting with friends in Cleveland, I panicked and prayed in the van: "God, what is going to happen?" Not only was I driving towards Columbus to have dinner with this wonderful man who had been sending me all these "confusing" text messages, but I had an important/troubling message to deliver: My Dad wants to meet you. 

After leaving Africa, my parents let me move into their guest room. This was a welcome refuge but started to get a bit sticky when I was "communicating" so often with my "friend who is a boy." Yes, I was 32 but I was living at home and I was having dinner with a man who lived out of town and who I tended to turn 2 hour visits into 4 and 6 hour afternoons. This tendency also led me to ask them to set a curfew for me... not as a way of "keeping me out of trouble" but as a way of respecting their boundaries: Would they be okay with me rollin' in at 2 in the morning? Not so much, it turns out. They set the curfew at 10:00 and Dad wanted to meet Michael. How do you tell a guy you're not dating that your Dad wants to meet him?!? Panic. Panic. Panic. and for a girl with a heart problem, this is a bad, bad thing. 

I realized I had to calm down before my heart rate got any faster, so I prayed, "God, if you want this to come up in conversation with Mike tonight, just insert it at some point. I don't care how and when you do it, but you have to take care of this. I can't think about it anymore." and I moved on. 

40 miles later, as I was still an hour away from his house, Michael called me to see how far away I was and to find out how much time we had for dinner. It was almost 6pm and he was afraid my parents had set my curfew for 8:00. 

"My curfew? 10pm."

"Oh, good," he replied. "I'll get some good time to spend with you."

"Good?" I questioned. "That seemed short to me."

"Why?"

IN MY HEAD I thought in response to his question, "Well, when my siblings were dating their spouses, their curfew was midnight." OUT LOUD I said into the phone, 

"Well, when my siblings were dating... Oh, oh no! NO, NO, No! That's not what I meant! I mean... oh no!"

and I very nearly swerved off of Interstate 71. 

I panicked! Oh, God, I've done it! I've ruined my friendship with Michael! Why do I always do this? I've destroyed it all! Why? Why? Why? 

Michael simply laughed into the phone, "I bet you're about 4 shades of red right now."

"I am. I am." I weakly replied.

"Don't worry, I'm not, " was his smooth response. "I'm excited for our date tonight." 

and that was it. that was the moment. The moment we became an official couple.

and I very nearly swerved off of Interstate 71.