Laughter and Contemplation

I have been startled at times by my sweet little one's apparent confusion regarding mom and dad's intentions. I realize, in part, we are probably just dealing with a stage of development that is trying out the "no" word and other various versions on non compliance with requests.

About a month and a half ago we had a great laugh out loud moment.

At our house we tend to have a no thank you serving policy. This means that food that is being refused must still have one to two bites eaten. Now we tend to be generous in what we offer in the first place. I am not expecting my cute little one with one to two molars per side to eat salad greens in salad form, or anything like that, but we do encourage the tasting of most veggies and fruits that have the appropriate chew-ability for our little one.

He actually eats quite well and has a variety of favorites that are good healthy food. He loves beans, broccoli, green smoothies, almost all fruit with a special love of strawberries, cantaloupe, mango, apples, grapes, pineapple and watermelon. He likes potatoes regular or sweet. Anyhow, he pretty much is pretty easy going about food.

The other thing we have done to encourage a greater variety being consumed, and not just his favorites, is to use a bit of bribery. I figure we have the rest of our lives to develop intrinsic motivation. We bribe with strawberries, watermelon, nuts and raisins or whatever is the day's favorite. Anyhow, it works like this. He has eaten a variety of food but has eaten mostly his favorites and left the 2nd and 3rd favorites and is asking for more of his favorite. To which we respond "ok I will get you ____ when you eat 2 bites of _____." Usually, he will say no. To which I smile and respond, "ok that is fine, you don't have to have ______" (more of your favorite). I then return to what I am doing and the choice is left with him. He can eat 2 bites and have more of his favorite or he can choose not to and be done.

We don't usually do repeats of a meal except cereal, which he will ask for every single meal, or at least 2x's a day. If he doesn't finish all his cereal I ask him if he would like it to go in the fridge. Usually he says yes, so in it goes. He is so excited to be allowed to have cereal a 2nd time that day(he can have the leftovers at the next meal, but that is usually it for the day for cereal).

So now that I have laid the ground work for the story, and lost probably most of my readers ;) I turn to our crazy laughing moment.

One evening we decided to have waffles with lots of various types of fruit on top. We had cut up fresh strawberries and mango and thrown in some blueberries and poured some maple syrup (the real stuff) over the top. It was super yummy. When we finished our meal there was juice in the bottom of the bowl, you know a fruit syrup developed from the fruit and maple syrup mixture. It was so yummy I just knew little love would love this...so I offered him some.

Ok, did I mention he is 2? So let's just say it didn't quite go as I originally pictured it. You know where the mom kindly offers to give her sweet little child a bite of something delicious and he is excited, tries it and is profoundly grateful? It didn't go like that.

Now, I probably should have just let it go...but it was sooooo good. I just knew he would love it so I participated in a moment of pooh bear torture, you know the type, where you, as a parent decide that this particular mole hill is the mountain you are going to conquer or die on? So I continue to push that he needs to, at least try a taste. To which there is much wailing and gnashing of teeth. Yet, I persisted and finally he tasted a tiny little taste. It sounded a bit like this "waaaa, nooooo, waaa, noooo, noooo" shaking of head on floor, "noooo, moore? More!" (except more is more like moar)

We were laughing pretty hard, but this led into a pretty serious discussion on our little one's perception of us.

Now I can say, while we do insist on eating a bite or two, I do think there is plenty of great food out there that is healthy. There is no need to offer the least favorites and insist that he must come to adore those. I love food. I want my family to enjoy eating. I want food to be a pleasure not a battle. I want it to be tasty, good for us and beautiful. I love food.

I could be wrong but I can't place where he has gotten this wrong perception. I mean, other than the fact that he is 2 and 2 likes to say no? Anyhow, he definitely responded like he thought we were offering him dog food, or something we knew he would hate.

Immediately, a question developed...When was the last time my Heavenly Father offered me something, and I threw myself on the ground whining and moaning no, assuming the worst? Certainly I don't do that, do I?

The picture doesn't mesh with reality. After all, I have not found that my Father gives bad gifts. I have found Him good and generous, and found even His denials to be in my best interest. Yet, in the moment, truthfully, I probably resemble my 2 year old.

I can speculate how I ended up in this state, but I guess the easiest explanation is I have accepted a false picture of my Father. I am acting on a false picture rather than clinging to what I know to be true. Now perhaps, it would be a stretch to expect my 2 year old to be able to reason through mom and dad's love and all the consistently wonderful things we have given him and come to a rational conclusion when offered the next adventure. Mom and dad must have something wonderful for me here. Yet, in my personal Christian experience I would hope that maturity might give me a better response.

In moments like these I understand how kids reveal the truth about ourselves. The layers are pulled back and we begin to see what others and God see so clearly. She still doesn't trust the way she should considering x, y, z, at least not yet. Thank goodness He isn't done with me yet. Now, with open eyes I can begin to replace the false picture and responses with the real.

Number Two

The blog has been silent for so long. The little feet have grown and they run and jump and climb these days. At least one pair of little feet run and jump and climb.

There are another pair of little feet. They wiggle and dance and in the end her little feet are creating a new havoc of my life. I am 30 weeks pregnant with number two. It has been a long pregnancy. There have been many bumps beyond the baby bump that daily enlarges around my mid-section. There are the bumps of bleeding and bed rest and placenta previa. There is the bumping out of my dream of one more natural birth, albeit in a hospital, to be replaced by a longing desire to see 20 weeks at which point viability is considered, 24 weeks when viability becomes more realistic, 30 weeks today where complications become less intense. Yet the longing continues, as I reach forward in hope to 36 weeks and our sweet little girl still in the womb. There is the coming to terms with scheduled c-section being a desired date as opposed to the option of extensive excessive bleeding and an emergency c-section.

C-Section...
It is not that I am afraid of surgery. I have had my share, from pins to reset bones to a 5 level fusion that allowed me to actively pursue life again. Yet, I struggle so much with the idea of this one. I want me and my baby to be undrugged for her entry into the world. It seems decidedly wrong to have to cut a baby out rather than to push the baby thru the birth canal. It is like I have a grieving process that needs to be done...a loss of a dream.

It has been a hard pregnancy because of the constant emotional roller coaster. Every early bleed threw me into panic. Lately the spotting has become more common place but the occasional heavy bleeding, even though it has been short in duration has tended to send me over the edge.

The Blessings...
We have made it to 30 weeks. The house is making some steady progress. My in laws are here and bed rest with a 2 year old is now really possible. I am getting a little better at not feeling resentful and at making my needs known. I am learning to ask for what I need and not feel guilty for being so incredibly useless. My husband is infinitely supportive and keeps telling me that I am doing what no one else here can do...grow a baby. It is hard not to feel entirely inefficient at growing a baby when I have friends and acquaintances who are growing theirs while working full time. However, he reminds me often that they aren't doing that while placenta previa.  Ultimately I must concede his point. 6-7 more weeks isn't that far off, which is both a blessing and a ticking time bomb...the house that is not live-able yet, the many things we have not done yet to prepare for sweet little girl...My inability to participate much in what needs done. Yet this too is a blessing. I am being given a precious gift. I am learning to wait on God and to not be in control. The blessing is at times hard to receive but still such a wonderful gift if I can open my heart to it.

Crawling, Standing, Falling and Learning to Walk

4/22ish/2013
Our little love has mastered the super crawl. And the time is fast approaching when he will be running around faster then we can keep up with. It has been emotionally bumpy the last couple days.

We are in a transition time and there are so many parallels between my pooh bears developmental stages and my spiritual walk. I am sure this isn't a compliment to my spiritual state but since it is a reality perhaps we will just say it how it is.

The house is a disaster. For those who have known me for longer then 5 minutes I am sure this goes without saying. Yet I arrived back from our vacation to a wonderfully clean house. It has since exploded into the full tornado potential.

It seems that all the stars are going to align to make sure that my inside reality matches my outside experience. Enoch had his first temperature this week. He was so pitiful and cute and needy and I felt so bad for him. We will be moving in less than 2 months. I don't know where we are moving.

We hit the ground running upon arriving back to Wonderful West Virginia. We basically stepped off the plane into 10 days of evangelistic meetings hence the house explosion and the news that we are moving. In many many ways both of these events are amazing adventures and answers to prayer. I am just having a hard time keeping a good hold on that reality while I am also sick and overwhelmed.

I found out today my friend died.

I did not know her well and she died way too young from cancer. Perhaps this is what added to the tragedy of the event. I wanted to go visit one more time before she died but the money has been tight and now it is too late.

I see in little loves slow progress toward being a biped the stumbling attempts at trusting my Heavenly Father. It is understandable for my precious son but not so understandable for me and God. He has always been faithful. So why this lack of faith?

God has a perfect plan.

He owns the cattle on a thousand hills.

He knows the plans that he has for me.

For us. He has promised to provide and is so very faithful.

Lord teach me to keep getting up.
Teach me to never give up.
Help me to trust you.

Object Permanance

There are stages that children go thru. I have heard that it is possible for growth to be a daily experience and yet each stage, each step is good in itself. Enoch is developing object permanance. It is good that he is learning to accept that mommy and daddy continue to exist when we step out of view. It is a sign of growing up.
Enoch is beginning the early stages of trust.

The spiritual ramafications cannot elude me. I find they rise up to ask their own questions. I hear God's gentle nudge and tender question. Yet at times I fear what the answer suggests.

Implications of growth are played out in Enoch's looking for the object that has disappeared. He expects it to reappear. He expects to find the ball in my other hand.

What does my tendency to display a lack of spiritual object Permanance say about the level of spiritual maturity? Is it enough to trust God when He shows Himself large and powerful in demonstration and miraculous intervention? Or is it instead a sign of spiritual immaturity that needs signs and wonders to believe? I used to think Gideon a great story because God made his will clear. And it is. But it is also a story of how God stoops low to meet His children where they are.

What is my response to God's disappearance? To His silence? To His stillness? Do I look expectantly for where I expect Him to manifest Himself next because I know He is there even if I can't see Him? Or do I act like Israel and plot my way back to Egypt along the nearest highway?

I sit here nursing Enoch and wondering how the time got away from me. Somehow I went from expecting to a mother of an eight week old baby. I had every intention of writing more. Every intention of having a written account of the whole experience. Instead there are these empty spaces. The unwritten account. The treasured memory. The thoughts and feelings refuse to be nailed down. They defy the pen or the attempted typed page. The memory is haunting, but memory is such a fluid beast that it is hard to confine it to a specific shape. The birth story needs told. There are other details that also need to be given account of. Perhaps one day soon. For now there are the memories.

Silence

A lot has happened since I blogged here last.

Change happens often among the silent moments.  Morning sickness left with first trimester.  Praise the Lord!

I settled further into work at Meredith Manor and the joys and challenges that it brought.  I love helping people learn to work with their horses and learn to identify what makes their horses tick.

Yet, it was in the silent moments where I was disquieted in my spirit.  I was surrounded by inspirational, strong women who were pursuing their passion and talent.  Yet there is and was a gap between the reality and my dream of working side by side these inspirational women.

The gap grew larger in time with the little love growing in my womb.  His movements and kicks brought to a deeper authenticity the space between who I was and who I was becoming.  The questions begging for entrance in the quiet moments.  "What would be my legacy?  What is my passion, my mission, my purpose?  Which life is mine?"

These strong, passionate and talented women were living their lives.  Would I have the daring, the strength to live mine and not a poor substitute, by pursuing less than my passion and mission?  Would I be willing to stand quietly apart, in an age of liberated women, and choose to go back, to "choose" what so many had fought to leave behind.

In this choice there is a death of sorts.  It is not a death to my dreams, hopes and longings(to these, this choice gives birth to life), rather it is a death to needing to be understood.  How long and how often I have placated and vacillated between standing apart and fitting in.  Yet, one cannot have it both ways.  Standing apart and choosing to do differently means not fitting in.

Authenticity.

To be real, genuine.

I am on maternity leave.  I am not going back to work after.  I am going to stay home with my little love.  It is not an end to work outside the home, but it is an end of sorts.

There are plenty of avenues to living out my passion and talents and creativity.  By God's grace I will find the ones He has made me to fill, while at the same time fulfilling the mission and passions He has placed in my heart to be first and foremost a wife and a mother.

Of Water

 "Don't push the river, it flows by itself" ~Book title by Barry Stevens
I have not read the book. But I love the image that this idea creates.


How often do we expend useless copious amounts of energy working to move things that will move themselves if given the proper amount of time?  


This is one of the things I love about water.  It flows and fits among the crevices.  It fits into the confines of space.  


The large items in our life must be placed carefully because if they are not they get crowded out.  Not so for the water.  The water has the uncanny way of finding its way into the open spots.  Yet, the water will reshape and reform everything else.


The large boulder sends the water moving around, over and under.  It redirects the water, yet overtime the boulder is the one changed.  The water leaves the boulder's presence no different.  The boulder, finds itself altered.


The river flows by itself.  It needs no further incentive then the casual interplay of gravity upon its existence.


Pregnancy and labor are forces that are in many ways like water.  


For more reading on the topic read the article that started this connection tumbling around in my mind. Giving birth is a creative act, and like all creative acts it cannot be forced to conform to society's unnatural time constraints. ~Laura Shanley