Bedrest? Are you kidding me?!

A few days after I delivered Raquel, I woke up with a hugely fat swollen face. We're talking Unrecognizable.

I was half-tempted to take a picture of it...but opted not to. Who wants to document the sudden on-set of Good Year Blimp Syndrome? Not I, said the postpartum mommy.

So you'll just have to take my word for it. My face was h.u.g.e.

Yet when I came downstairs and pointed it out to Jet, he...in all of his tread-carefully-around-the-hormonally-challenged-wife mentality...said "Nah. It's just a little water-retention. It's not bad."

Me: "Uh, honey? I have slits for eyes. I think it's a little more than water retention."

Jet: "Nah. It's just a little puffy." He leans in and peers carefully at my face, as if to be searching for a needle in a haystack.

Me: "Jet! For the love of God. LOOK. at. me."

Jet, seeing his clueless tactic isn't going over so well, finally relented: "Well. It'll go away."

This is where I roll my half swollen-shut eyes in frustration, though I have to admit I'm glad he didn't recoil in horror when I walked in the room. That probably would've gone over worse than his feigned inability to notice the new look I was sportin'.

Days later...

The swelling had gone down, but I still looked like I had gotten my wisdom teeth taken out. or had some allergic reaction to a bee sting.

So right after the snow began to melt and the roads were more passable, I called the OB office. and told them that I was swollen and having headaches that medicine wasn't really helping.

Nurse: "Well, it's probably just water retention. That's normal after delivery."

Me, trying really hard to remain calm (What is up with the whole "water retention" explanation anyway??): "But I wasn't retaining water before delivering."

After a while of trying to convince her that I really did know my postpartum body, she said she'd talk to the midwives and get back to me.

Hours later. Another nurse calls me and says "The midwife said since the swelling has gone down it's no big deal, but to call her if your face swells back up."

Again. The whole thing didn't feel right, so I pressed it a bit. Until I, again, brought up the fact that I was having headaches. "Are those non-consequential?"

Apparently the last nurse specifically wrote that I wasn't having headaches. So this "new" information was the turning point. I was called right back and told to come in immediately.

When I got to the office, my blood pressure was 143/106 (I usually have really low b.p.) and was seeing spots. Suddenly the word "hospital" became part of the midwife's conversation.

And that's when the tears came. I had successfully avoided delivering Raquel over Christmas, *yet* here I was still looking at being hospitalized (which means away from my husband and children) over Christmas.

I was completely devastated, as I layed on my side in the dark room by myself, trying to get my blood pressure to come down.

Two hours later...after having my blood pressure monitored every 15 minutes...they let me go home. I truly consider this an intervention from the Lord for a couple of reasons:

1. Amidst ALL the stress I was feeling... (I was)

• crying, frustrated, and alone
  
• unsure over what was happening in my body and therefore scared over my symptoms
  
• apart from Raquel who was wanting to nurse (I didn't think I'd be in the office that long)
• had the car with all the girls' carseats, which effectively meant that Jet had no way to get to me if I needed him.
  

...my blood pressure actually went DOWN significantly!

2. My midwife (the one that I love and that delivered Raquel) was at the office and was able to see me.

So even when the doctor said that they thought I should be in the hospital, Barbara was able to convince her to let me go home because, and I quote:
"I know you'll do everything I say to do. And I know Jet will let you lay around while he takes care of the girls."

That was HUGE. She trusted us enough to let me go home to be on Bedrest over Christmas!! Thank you, Jesus, for that relationship with my midwife!

For the sake of "Easy", here's an email response I sent to a friend after she asked me how I was:

Honestly? I'm frustrated.

Who goes on bedrest AFTER the baby? Who feels more swollen AFTER the baby? Me, apparently. I like to do things differently. stand out and all that. *wry grin*

They think it's pre-eclampsia. It's really rare for it to occur after the baby is born...but again, me with the whole standing out bit. *roll of the eye* BUT while it's still really dangerous for me, Raquel goes completely unaffected!! You know, being BORN and all. Thank you, Jesus!

At this point, I'm trying not to be upset at the fact that tomorrow is C'mas Eve and I'm stuck on my booty unable to do any of the things that need to be done. There's just so much that I wanted to do...that I was WAITING to do until after R. was born...and now I can't. So I'm trying not to fall prey to the whole Mom Guilt thing b/c my heart is to make this C'mas special.

Yet, here I sit. Doing nothing.

But on the flip side, I'm VERY thankful that I AM at home and not caged at (the hospital), which is what they'll do if I don't do 'bedrest' here. So that whole scenario puts things into perspective for me, you know? :)

ANYWAY. That's my rather lengthy answer to your question: I'm good. I go to the doctor tomorrow where I'm hoping they won't tell me to go to (the hospital). and I'm trying to enjoy the fact that Jet is at my beckon call. heh heh

"OOOOOhhh honey??!! Would you pleeease pop me some popcorn? and get me some water? and clean the kitchen. and oh, the laundry...it hasn't been done for 2 weeks. Can you take care of that too? Because it's stressing me out. And we both know that I have to be careful not to raise the ol' blood pressure."

*insert evil laugh*

Yeah. On second thought, I'm doing pretty stinkin' good. Excuse me for a bit... I have some Honey Do Lists to make up.

So yeah. It's been a crazy Postpartum Holiday Season. :)

Tick Tock. Tick Tock.

A random, just-because picture...

I'm thinking these sisters (2 and 5 years old) are starting to look more and more alike. Raegan, I think, used to resemble Charis more...but one or both of them are switching their looks.

Though Raegan continues to be a "little Christin" in both spunk and look. ;)



Nope. Nothing so far on the Labor Homefront.

It's just a waiting game at this point. A slow tick-tocking of the clock this weekend as I've contracted. and felt pressure to the point I can't walk. and....

seen the ease with which my "peace" can be so easily tossed when in the face of the unknown.

So yeah. The weekend didn't birth a baby, but rather a total revealing in just how impatient I can be. Yippee.

And for now, I'm processing it all. Trying to grab a hold of what the Lord told me one morning, even though I don't understand how it fits in with ANYTHING.

Don't you just love it when He doesn't make sense? And when we have to com-puh-letely change our mindset, our interpretative skills, and our inner grasp on spiritual reality in order to even begin to remotely understand? *Note the sarcasm*

Yup. Therein lies the reason why this weekend also brought a lot of exhausted, frustrated tears. ;)

Today, I have more peace. No more understanding, mind you! But more peace. I'm praying that understanding comes throughout the day as I get a chance to steal away with Him.

between baking cookies. and laundry. and homeschooling. and cleaning. and little ones running around wanting my full attention as they spin around the family room floor.

I lead a blessed life. One filled to the brim with blessings from Him. And today, I hope to press into one blessing that I know He wants me to take a hold of

Wisdom is supreme; therefore get wisdom. Though it cost all you have, get understanding. Proverbs 4:7

and is more than wiling to supply.

If any of you lacks wisdom, he should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to him. James 1:5

Come on Cervix!

As of yesterday afternoon, I was.... *Drum roll please*....

3 centimeters. 50% effaced. -2 station.

I'm currently 37 weeks 3 days (160 lbs). Right around the time that I usually deliver.

My midwife (the one I like the most out of all 6) said, out of the blue, that she'll be on call for me this weekend. That is unless I didn't want to go to all the hassle...and then, she wouldn't be offended.

Are you kidding me, woman!? Hassle, what hassle??? I was having to contain myself from shouting and jumping up and down!! and here she is downplaying it into a hassle. Silly, silly midwife.

Seriously, I was amazed. and relieved. and overwhelmed. She said she "WANTED to deliver this baby"...on her weekend off. There are no words.

As of right now, I'm contracting, thinking that we just MIGHT go into labor in the next 24 hours. (Okay, so I think more like 7 hours...but I'm trying not to get my hopes up. Again.)

And now...off to throw stuff together. Yes. I'm serious. I haven't packed yet.

In fact, I just registered at the hospital last evening. Can you tell that I'm still not convinced that this enlarged belly of mine is harboring an actual baby?

this shot really shows off the baby belly :)

The whole thing STILL seems so surreal??!! being that my baby (Alana, almost 15 months) is upstairs sleeping.

Okay. I'm off... :)

The anchors of my heart

(Def) Anchor:

• A source of security or stability.
• A heavy object attached to keep the vessel in place

During different seasons of my life, there are times when "everyday things" will suddenly impact me in new and fresh ways. coming out of no where and evoking a deep response that would not have happened were I in another place emotionally.

Like a worship song. or a scripture verse. or a piece of Death By Chocolate Cake. You know... the important, spiritual things in this world. *wry grin*

The whole Pregnant Season, for me, always seems to bring about these unexpected heart connections.

Probably because I tend to press in deeper to the Father's heart: clinging to him for peace and comfort and whatever else he has to offer as I set firm my faith in His promises to me (regarding labor and delivery based on the cross canceling out pain and sorrow).


THE VERSE:

One night as I was reading the Word....

Wait, that sounds too pretty. like I was having some all-together, intimate moment where angels were quietly humming in the background as my halo glistened softly against a backdrop of open heavens.

Because trust me, I wasn't anything close to ...*ahem*...that.

I was stressed. probably on the verge of tears. and trying to take deep breaths in attempts to prevent hyperventilation. Bible Roulette was my game of choice, as I groped for anything that would bring me comfort.

There. That paints a much more accurate picture. Wouldn't want you go picturin' me as anything less than a crazy-emotional, woman in the throes of the last weeks of pregnancy. ;)

SO there I was, randomly opening my Bible, hoping to find something. And God, in his infinite mercy, showed me the following:

"Thus says the Lord God: If the prince makes a gift to any of his sons out of his inheritance, it shall belong to his sons; it is their property by inheritance.

But if he makes a gift out of his inheritance to one of his servants, it shall be his to the year of liberty, then it shall revert (back) to the prince.

Only his sons may KEEP a GIFT from his inheritance..." Ezekiel 46:16-17

This was HUGE to me!! I've mentioned that this go round, I don't feel as "on top" of the whole interceding for the delivery. That instead of feeling like I had hours to press in to a place of deeper faith (like last time), I was just having to trust that God still remains true to Himself and His promise, regardless of my being able to do ...anything relatively deep.

Jesus, The Prince (like in that above verse), told me when I was pregnant with Charis that the supernatural, painfree delivery was a gift to me. He reminded me of that promise a few weeks ago, and then He told Jet the same thing out of the blue: that this delivery was to be a gift to me.

Then I find this completely "random" verse highlighting the fact that Jesus does not take back gifts given to his children. that because I am his child, the gifts he has given me before remain my inheritance now.

As "duh" as it may seem to you...it was SO eye-opening (not to mention comforting) to me!

And I do believe at that point there may have been angels humming in the background. You know, as I sat on the couch and stared at the scripture verse in awe. ;)

For the past week, that verse has been read and reread, as I prepare for what looks like a SOON delivery.


THE SONG:

During the last pregnancy, there was one song that particularly ministered to me. And I listened to it over and over on my MP3 player as I labored in the delivery room. Shane and Shane's song "Yearn".

The song ministered directly to the place that the Lord had me.

Last week, the Lord gave me another worship song. One that spoke to my heart directly on the very things that I've been warring for this go round:

That God has done it all, even when my heart and flesh fail...that as the day draws near, my faith will become seen. Because *HE* has overcome.

...which has nothing to do with me, outside of receiving the gift He's offering me: The Cross that did it all, that holds the very Victory that I'm seeking.

I told Jet about it last night and just sat, with tears streaming down my face, as we listened to it together.

Chris Tomlin's "I will rise".







His faithfulness to walk me through this time, even when I'm feeling emotionally unstable continues to be my anchor. my encouragement. my hope.

Peace Peace, where for art thou, Peace?

*no pictures. because I'm just that tired*

These last few weeks have come to a standstill for me.

I've not gone to church. I've not worked on the book. I've not been in contact with many friends. Homeschooling has gradually slowed down. and I've been sporting the sweatpants and ratty-shirt-that's-long-enough-to-cover-my-belly look.

To the point that one of my daughters asked me "Why do you always wear that?" Ah yes, out of the mouths of wise guys babes, eh? :)

I've just not had the physical energy to do much. And even when I get those spurts of energy, I lack the emotional energy to do it. Yup, I'm definitely in the last phases of pregnancy. ;)

Every time I get this close to going into labor, my spirit begins to really war on finding a place that's secure in what I know the Lord has spoken over my deliveries.
And who I know him to be during those couple of hours when I get to participate in birthing life.

But

Honestly, I stress over the fact that I'm even struggling to find that place, you know? I argue inside myself that I shouldn't even have to fight this mental battle every. stinkin. time. Feeling that I should, instead, be able to ride on the coat-tails of last time's victory, easily walking into that place of previously gained access in the Spirit.

Yet. I do battle.

It's just seems to be reality for me, this need to come to terms with setting and re-setting (again and again) my mind on the things unseen. You know, since the SEEN is all around me.

Apparently, I'm highly distractable. And it's just reality that I have to continually remind myself that my perspective...as well as the perspective and experience of other people all around me...is NOT the barometer or the grid that I mold my life after.

(I don't believe that I will always struggle in this area of "radical faith". I'm trusting that as I continue to mature in Him and challenge my "faith muscles" on a regular basis, that it WILL be more natural. and I will be able to gain deeper access into His Truths...into the keys that unlock the manifestation of miracles)

But man, if it's not frustrating to feel like I'm having to essentially relearn this over and over.

But there's ONE thing that always comes in and pierces the heart of fear and doubts: A personal word from God.

One Word spoken from the Throne of Heaven, even if it's a simple one, is SO life-giving.

I mean, we can pray until we've thought of everything we can think of to say...spend hours telling the Lord our thoughts on a matter...try to convince ourselves that a scripture actually does apply to our personal experience.

BUT to have a God-Word spoken directly to you, even if it's just a simple, short sentence, makes all the difference in the world.

For the word of God is living and active. Sharper than any double-edged sword, it penetrates even to dividing soul and spirit, joints and marrow; it judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart. Hebrews 4:12

If there's anything I've learned in this journey of faith (especially regarding my labor and deliveries since that's been the area where I've continually fought to walk in the supernatural) it's that seeking Him, finding out what He has to say about something, and taking ahold of His vision and purpose and Now Word on my life brings me directly to that solid place of peace.

His Rama Word in my life cuts straight through my fear. my feeling inadequate. my everything. and gives me something tangible to hang onto. something weightier than myself. a Spiritual Truth that combats scientific facts.

...
The other night as Jet and I were laying in bed, I was just spent. I had been contracting all day. feeling lots of pressure. and just emotionally tired with trying to convince myself that I could deal with these daily and intensive "teaser labor symptoms" for a few more weeks.

Jet was quiet, positioning himself to hear from the Lord should he happen to want to tell us anything. And He did... Jet told me that he heard the Lord say, "This is going to be a gift to Christin."

There was more, but I didn't hear it. All I could do was smile and fall asleep. The Word brought an indescribable amount of peace to my heart... to the extent that I immediately fell asleep. not even hearing the rest of the sentence.

The reason that simple statement brought me so much deep peace? Because it was the exact thing I had been thinking about the days prior. the exact wording.

You see, the Lord had told me that exact thing regarding Charis's (my oldest daughter's) pending delivery: that Charis's miraculous delivery would be a gift to me.

And I had been silently thinking back to that 'gift promise' the entire week before. thinking about how I was hoping for the same thing (a God-gift) this time around, being that I haven't felt too "on top of it all" as far as contending for a supernatural delivery.

And here Jesus was telling Jet (who neither remembered the word from Charis's pregnancy nor that I was thinking about it now) that it was His intention to do just that!!!! :)

The next night I found out that there was more to it:

This season of her birth is significant. and that both she and the birth is a gift to me."

Sweet.

And just like that, Peace is attainable. because I know He is aware. He is involved. He has already made a way. and He is all about giving Good Gifts.

33 weeks pregnant

This picture isn't the greatest. But eh. I weaned you off of any great-expectations-in-the-whole-maternity-pictures-arena looonnng ago.

33 weeks. 153 lbs.


Forgive the ratty look. I had just gotten off the treadmill, walked by the stair mirror, and thought "You know, I probably should take another picture before I deliver."

No matter that, again, I am headless. All while my reflection bounces back at me from yet another dirty, spotty mirror. I promise, they look relatively clean in real life. Honest they do.

I suppose I should forgo any hopes of ever going professional with my photography skillz. Or modeling for that matter. Apparently Headless doesn't appeal to most.

This time.

Time and the busy-ness of my day is NOT an enemy. But a gift. And I'm determined to change my present mindset to fit that thinking.


During my last pregnancy, I felt on top of the whole Delivery Prep. as I prayed for a deep-rooted faith in believing Him, yet again, for another pain-free delivery (without meds).

I openly shared my faith-walk (via Blogdom) as I documented:

• the ups and downs of my emotions
• my weekly wavering to find footing in a place that felt completely shaky
• the things that I had heard God communicate to me as I sat at his feet in prayer

But this time around, I haven't felt on top of any aspect of it.

This pregnancy has raced past. My days have been filled to the brim with Life in general. While my evenings have been maxed-out, trying to balance quality time with Jet with writing a book that Fo*cus on the F*amily thought was coming out a few months ago.

Yeah, that didn't happen. ;)

During the last pregnancy I was able to devote hours in worship and prayer, fighting for His promises made manifest in my labor/delivery... This time...well, it just hasn't happened.

And honestly? It's been a little bit unnerving to me. I've fought with fears, thinking that this time would be different (ie. painful) because this time I wasn't going into it emotionally/spiritually built up and guarded by prayer.

Basically I've struggled with the thought of: I haven't done MY part, so why should I expect God to do His?

Then a few weeks ago, the Lord started up a conversation with me out of the blue. one that I didn't quite understand until He got to the end of it. The gist of it being:

"What if I healed your eyes? made it so you could see perfectly. Would you be afraid that I'd take it away? Would you wake up every day and feel like you had to fight for that healing... Again? No, you wouldn't. You'd just receive it, adjust your life to fit the fact that your eyes were now miraculously healed, and move on.

Why are you so afraid that I'm going to take this away from you now?

I just sat there. on my bed. in complete awe. It made so much sense. You know, coming from The All-wise One and all. ;)

Yet. even after that little heavenly message from On High, I continued to struggle with fear that I wasn't doing my part. that I wasn't being the "good girl' who was fighting the good fight, running hard after Him, and beating down the forces of Hell with one hand tied behind my back.

Apparently I'm not a quick learner. Who knew. (notice the lack of question mark) ;)

And then just now...as I heard Alana on the monitor struggling to nap because of teething...I figured that getting on the treadmill would be a waste of time because any minute I'd have to go upstairs and get her. So I picked up my Bible, out of sheer "Eh. nothing else to do."

Yes. Spiritual Giant over here. No...really. *rolling my eyes*

But you know, even then...even amidst my lazy attitude towards spending quality time in the Word... HE is still faithful. Because I know the verse that I randomly opened to was *meant* for me to read. Today.

Isaiah 53:10 Yet it was the will of the Lord to bruise him; he has put him to grief."

Let me just say that first that if you haven't read the past blogs about this whole painfree birth adventure God put me on, you need to or you just won't get what I'm talking about. This one explains the basics of it.

Anyway.

Out of all the scriptures I could have read, this was the one that "randomly" met my eyes. It amazes me. The verse that speaks of how God put Jesus to GRIEF! The very word (grief) that was first used as the curse over Eve and her childbearing. The very curse that Jesus annulled. canceled. and obliterated on the cross.

The very Grief-Obliteration that gives me access to even begin to believe Him for yet another miraculous delivery.

And then the Lord spoke to me again.

Just a simple sentence, but very meaningful to me and where my thoughts have been warring, as I've been trying to be faithful to everything else the Lord has put on my already-overflowing plate. all while struggling with the feeling that I'm completely neglecting praying for the delivery.

Him: "What if I said, it's not about you and what you do, But about ME and what I did?"

Huh. Yeah. YOU are the reason I can trust you. YOU. Not me.

I know that there are times where, in order to walk in the promises of God, we have to fight for it, stand our ground in unrelenting warfare. I feel like I did that with Lani's delivery...and learned a lot in the process.

But then there are times that you just have to rest in the fact that God is who He says he is. and just embrace Peace as you hold on to the fact that He does what we cannot do.

I don't mean to say that I'm not praying. Because I am. Prayer is all about hanging out with the Lord. I never want to give up on that. But I do want to put to death the driving fear that if I don't do my part (whatever that means), he won't do his.

Because that's just not Truth. Truth says that He is faithful to the faithless.

"if we are faithless, he will remain faithful, for he cannot deny himself." 2 Timothy 2:13

And I want to soak myself in that. as I embrace the fact that He will continue to be True to his promises during this next delivery. whether I feel "on top of it" or not.

Huh. Didn't see that one coming.

I love my little girls. It just can't be said enough.

and the fact that another one is on her way excites me to no end. FIVE girls. Ah, sweet bliss.

I've been trying to envision what a picture of all five of my girls will look like... which leads me into thinking about the delivery. being that I have to actually birth her before I can take said picture of her.

Logic is my forte. in case you weren't aware. ;)

So that said, I've praying over the upcoming labor/delivery here and there. all while trying to come to terms with how to get through the holidays without getting sick (H1N1 being pretty prevalent and pregnant woman being at a high risk for complications)...

Enter today's OB appointment.

The one that I thought I'd have a chance to discuss with Anne (a different midwife from the last one) about my weight gain and whether or not SHE had any concerns.

But that conversation, though had, was rather backburner in our time together. because she brought up something rather unexpected. and large. and just generally shocking, to say the least.

Midwife: Our hospital has recently implemented restrictions on visitations due to H1N1 outbreaks. and their attempts to keep them at bay.

Okay, I said. I appreciated their precautions. After all, who wants sick people having free roam in the hospital...near my newborn? Not me.

Midwife: Well. No children, under 18, are allowed in the hospital. Period.

Huh. Okay. Well...I can understand that.

Actually, I've been thinking in that direction anyway. For no particular reason other than feeling like it might be best to not bring all four girls into the hospital with all the illness going around. that it might be best to have them all meet Baby Girl in the peaceful quiet of our home. after I'm discharged from the hospital.

So on that front, I feel like the Holy Spirit had been prepping me.

Unfortunately, there was more.

Midwife: And if your husband is sick, he won't be allowed to be in the delivery room with you either.

*insert crickets chirping* I had no words.

Midwife: And if you're sick, then the baby will have to be kept in the nursery for the majority of the time.

At this point, I think I was just doing a whole lot of big-eyed, head nodding.

While I totally understand the policy, and support it, trying to wrap my brain around the fact that I was just told "You will have to have someone on standby to replace your husband if he's sick" just wasn't coming easy.

I'm sorry, but...uh... how do you find an adequate replacement for your HUSBAND during birth? Words escape me.

So here we are, trying to come to terms with what that means. trying to align our minds with the fact that Jesus is bigger and is our divine health. trying to come to terms with the fact that our plans for the holidays may not be what we thought.

As in, if anyone in the extended family is showing obviously signs of sickness, we'd have to remain at home. While we played with this thought before, it was on the realm of "by our choice".

but with the hospital's new policies, we feel like choice has been taken out of our control. At least if we want to avoid the Idiot Parenting Method.

and we do.

I go back and forth between the emotional extremes. From "Are you kidding me?! I could be delivering our child alone?! Or quarantined from my baby?" to "Okay, this isn't a biggie. We'll all be fine."

I'm not sure it's really sunk in as the reality of our upcoming hospital experience. *shaking my head*

In general, I have peace. though it's a bit of a slippery one at this point, as I'm having a hard time maintaining a grasp on it. But a peace, all the same.

Oh, and a determination to really start praying. hard.

Almost 31 weeks.

picture taken at 31.5 weeks pregnant. 152 lbs.

Does it get any better than this?! Here I am, on the *home stretch*...expecting my fifth daughter!! I can't even begin to put to words how blessed I am in this moment.



I knew when we found out that Baby Girl #5 was due around Christmas that this pregnancy would fly by. Summers always go fast, as do the holidays.

So I find that I'm having to constantly remind myself what week I'm on! SO unlike my first pregnancy where I could tell you, down to the day, how far along I was. Oh how time...and a few children... changes everything.

Each pregnancy gets faster and faster. As well as the baby's first year of life. The more children I have, the faster the baby of the family turns 1 yr. Or so it feels.

So before I know it, this little one will be here. in my arms. being completely doted on by four adoring older sisters.

Jet and I have been talking about how much we'll LOVE having a house full of girls. Everything will pretty much be pink and princess from here on out. ...at least until they reach the age where that's no longer cool.

Of course, even then every girl still dreams of princes. even if only silently.


Little Bitty is a mover! though miraculously quiets down when others are trying to feel her kicks and jabs. Stinker. ;)

And yeah, for the record, I'm not that fair-skinned. I'm just not sure how to get the flash to work like I want it to...


I'm beyond thrilled. and so very ready to meet this little girl who's name (which will be revealed soon) is already commonplace around our house.

So much to say. So many things I want to document. But for now, I'm off to write more of the book. today being the last day to complete a chapter before moving on to the next one, tomorrow.

Ah, life is so very busy. but so very good.

There are no words.

OB Appointment? Check.

Blind nurse armed with needles? Check. *grrrr*

Midwife, whom I've never met, commenting about the amount of weight I've gained, followed by a "Well, I don't know. We really don't WANT you to diet right now..." ? Double check.


Call me crazy, but when I go to see a midwife I somehow picture a sweet woman sympathizing with my plight. empathizing with my emotions. and congratulating me on the amount of weight I've been able to put on.

Apparently I need to rethink my expectations. Because this conversation was today's Reality:

Her: Well, tell me what you ate today. (as of 4pm)
Me: 1/2 piece of toast and grapes. 1 can of tuna with mustard. soup and half of a hotdog with no bread. water and milk.

I actually worried that she would tell me that I hadn't eaten enough. because I knew I hadn't. It was a busy day!

Her response? "Well, that seems fairly reasonable. But I didn't hear any vegetables..."

I've gone round and round this scenario, trying to find someway to make it comical writing material. But honestly, at this point...I'm just not there. Almost, but not quite. ;)

To be 29 weeks pregnant is a mindgame in and of itself. I think every woman who's ever been pregnant...along with her husband...can attest to this.

The fact that I'm putting on weight at such a rapid rate is already enough to make me stand in front of my closet and cry. questioning whether I'll ever be back to normal again.

*These pictures aren't the best, but I needed (for my own sake) to document today's pregnancy look. As well as FINALLY take pregnancy pictures*

The fact that I'm 154 lbs. and still growing is enough to make me want to curl into the fetal position. in my comfy cozy sweats that don't grab my growing booty belly.


But then I remember...I AM growing a baby. I am in my third trimester. I am still wearing regular clothes (size 9/10 pants because I prefer the way they look over some maternity).

Then I remember that this is my seventh pregnancy in a span of 8 years. that I got pregnant with this baby when Alana was only 5 months old. that I still had 15 pounds to lose at the time. and that, technically, I've only gained about 14 lbs thus far.

These are the sentiments that I cling to when the stupid part of my brain tells me that my body is all wrong.


But I've learned to tell it to shut up and move on. totally happy with what my body is doing. how it's growing a healthy baby. and graciously expanding to meet that need.

Until today when Midwife starts asking questions about my diet... and suggesting ways I could alter my choice of foods and possibly add in more exercise. (??????) All because I gained 9lbs since my last appointment (a month ago).

And at the end of our lovely little time together, she told me that I should come back 2 weeks from now instead of a month. I jokingly asked her if coming back in two weeks instead of four was because of the 'fat issue".

To which she said, in all seriousness and obviously NOT catching on that I was kidding, "No, it has nothing to do with the fat issue...You need to come back because of the pressure you're feeling."

Oh, okay. Well since you put it that way.

And my mom's oh-so-gracious response when I told her all of this: "This is where you say..." as she placed her hand on her rear and mouthed the remaining words.

Hmm. Okay Mom, Woman of God that you are, seems like sound advice to me. ;)

I know, I know...

I'm horrible at keeping you in suspense. and obviously a very lazy hostess. Don't let this keep you from really dropping by!

I do have an excuse. Really.

You see, I've been getting ready for my OB appointment this afternoon. And, let's just be honest and say, that requires an obscene amount of time.

After all, I'm trying (by myself!) to orchestrate getting me AND my small army of girls ready to walk out the door and face the world.



I know, I know. I've obviously been getting ready since...Friday. But...just look at what I have to work with..."world-ready" for this group of monkeys take time.

Especially when I know I'm getting ready for THE OB appointment. The one where you have to try not to throw up drink orange syrup. and then have a nurse descend upon you, needle-in-hand.

We all know how I feel about that check up. So admittedly, my feet are dragging.

So when I return, you can either expect me to be in a very good mood because I will never have to endure that again. OR in a very bad mood because

• the nurse obviously was blind lacked coordination when it comes to finding my vein. OR

• I failed the test and will have the do the TWO hour version of it. at which point I may very well just kick you out of my house.

Oh, the suspense. ;)

Dare I call it insight?

The following quote was a lovely little sentiment I heard from Charis (6.5 years old), as she and Selah were playing a Story.

Definition of "story": what they call their make-believe games. Play times that come ready-made... with a bona fide script. *Not kidding* If you play along, you will be told what to say. and when. and how.

Charis, who is playing the husband of the story: "Honey, are you trying to eat more than me because you want to have another baby?"

Uh-huh.

Should this make me happy that Charis is yet to figure out the ins and out of how Baby got in my belly? (Though she's gotten close! I'm such the procrastinator pro at redirecting.)

OR should I be completely embarrassed? that she, by her keen observational skills, has deduced that Mommy, in order to create and maintain a "baby belly", must out-eat every person she's come in contact with. Ever.

The Miracle No One Expected.

A couple of weeks before delivery, I felt something was wrong.

After calling the OB office, they agreed to see me. monitoring the baby, they watched my contractions and her heart reaction to them. And because they saw a dip in her heart rate when I contracted, they did an ultrasound. finding that my amniotic fluid was low (7).

I was sent to the hospital. And then released when everything checked out fine. I was told to drink water like crazy, which I did to the extent that I felt sick from it all. They checked me again a few days later and said that the amniotic fluid still wasn't good, but was better (11).

Yet.

I still felt something wasn't right. I couldn't explain it. And didn't even try. It just wasn't something that I wanted to put to words. to vocalize. or acknowledge. ...not even to Jet.

So I just prayed, silently. giving my unsure feelings over to the Lord. The only one who could see my little one. The only one who, if need be, make a difference and change what was wrong.

That feeling never really left me. So those prayers of protection were, the last few weeks, always near my heart.

After my precious Alana was born. Everything was going as it should. The cord was cut. She was placed on my chest. She was vigorously cleaned off. I hugged her, in awe that a blond child just came from my womb. in awe of the birth story that God had just unfolded for me.

All was sweet in my world.

And then the midwife spoke: "This little girl has angels on her shoulders. watching out for her."

I remember smiling, thinking that was a random, sweet thing to say. I figured it had to do with the birth experience and Barbara's thoughts on it. But as I looked up at her, I could see that she was talking about something completely different.

For in her hand, she held the umbilical cord, showing us exactly what she meant. A knot in the cord.

But not only one. There were TWO.

Something, she said, you never see. Something you never want to see. Because had the knot(s) becomes tightened, the baby's oxygen supply would have been cut off. completely.

resulting in miscarriage or stillbirth.

It was one of those moments when I didn't have time to think. to process the weight of what she just said. Immediately and spontaneously, I started to pray out loud in my prayer language (some call it "speaking in tongues").

Neither my brain nor my emotions had words for what I knew I was witnessing. So out of my spirit, came groanings too deep for me to express. worship to Jesus too intense for mere words.

I just prayed. I couldn't stop. I didn't care what the nurses or midwife thought of me. whether they thought I had lost my mind. or assumed I was one of those "crazy, out-there Christians". The moment was too intense for me to give them a second thought.

And then when I felt I could pray no more, all I could do was say "Jesus Jesus" over and over again. For I know He alone saved the life of my little Alana...

Sometime after Barbara delivered the umbilical cord, she called Jet over to see it. She couldn't stop talking about how HUGE the placenta was.

She turned it inside out. poked it with her finger. squeezed it with both of her hands. held it up for all to see. She then turned to the umbilical cord, showing all who were interested just how thick the cord was. My mom said it looked like two cords were sewn together.

Barbara went on to explain that it was the thickness and elasticity (health) of the placenta and the cord that kept the knots from being able to pull tight...

and do fatal damage.

Honestly, I still am yet to fathom the full impact of what that all means. There are times when I sit back and try to imagine what life would be like had the cord been pulled tight. It makes me cry to even type it.

For I know my life would mirror a deep sorrow that words can't even express. BUT...and I rejoice in ways I can't express...that that is NOT how the story of her birth ended.

God not only gave me a supernatural, painfree birth. But to my daughter, He gave Life.

And I am forever forever forever grateful as I look into the face of my precious Lani. I am forever reminded of the fact that God intimately watches over my daughters.

The Birth Story- Part 1

Dear Little Alana,

I don't know why but for some reason, this has been a hard thing to write. I feel the responsibility to not miss one iota of what God did during your labor and delivery season.

to process it fully. to dig into the depths of it with a commitment that time just doesn't allow. to document it with all the passion and humor the Lord delved out during those last hours.

But being that He was POURING and POURING out on me while you were being birthed, I'm not sure I could ever do it all justice.

Not to mention the fact that He continues to pour out over my life. So I know I need to write this and move on. Because He sure is... already moving on to the next Faith Challenge in my life. A much larger one, in my opinion.

So for now, here are the bare minimum details. Nothing too deep. Just the facts that skim the surface. I'm thinking the deeper things, the spiritual parallels and revelations, will have to come later. a piece at a time.

I love you and I love your birthing story, my little Lani...

Mommy

........
Tuesday, September 16th I woke up around 1AM. Knowing full well that real labor was going to start sometime in the next couple of hours. I wasn't contracting regularly by any means. Maybe one every 15 minutes. Who knows. but whenever I was contracting, they were hard.

Because I knew the Lord said it was going to be fast and that it'd go from nothing to everything all at once AND that there would be no outward signs (other than contractions)....that we had better get up and get moving.

So we leisurely started to get ready. I say leisurely because I knew I wasn't having the "big" contractions or real labor yet. So why rush? Well, other than the fact that Jet could be forced to deliver at home or in the car. But aside from that small formality. I just wasn't in the mood to run around all crazy like. *grin*

From early on, I had put on my MP3 player and started jamming to worship. (In fact, I didn't take that player off until they delivered Alana and put her on top of me to clean her off.) I knew I needed to be focused and at peace. and for me, worship is the avenue where I can totally focus on the Lord and not myself.

And as we pulled onto the highway that takes us to the hospital, the Lord began to speak. Telling me encouraging things, much like a husband would. And always ending it with speaking my name. Like "You're doing great, Christin. We're almost there." etc.

I can't remember another time when a heavenly conversation has been exactly like that. Ever. Everything he said to me during the drive to the hospital was like that. very gentle. very encouraging. very personal.

You know how the bible says he speaks in a still, small voice? Well, it was like the decibel level had been turned up twenty notches. There was no question when he was speaking. no guessing of what he was saying. no doubt that I was hearing him correctly. Honestly, it's almost like everything else had been silenced by Heaven for this very sacred time between Jesus and me.

I'll never forget it.

Walking into the ER, there was another pregnant woman waiting to be taken up to Labor/Delivery. Jet told the people behind the counter that I was 5 centimeters yesterday, hinting that we were not up for a long, drawn out process of getting my information together. His insistence seemed to speed up their checking me in. Go, hon! So up we went... two pregnant women, together.

As I was wheeled down the hallway, I closed my eyes and envisioned myself going deeper and deeper into his presence. deeper into his authority. I couldn't help but to smile as God gently reminded me of a prophetic word spoken over our church the week prior. "No one will be safe from your favor."

I immediately started praying for the other woman's delivery. knowing that I was carrying the favor of God over my own...and felt God has given me the freedom and authority to speak that over her as well. That whole thing gave me a deep, inner joy. and an excitement for what was to come.

By 3:45AM, I was given a bed. And a nurse that, for some odd reason, decided NOT to give me the standard IV!! Can I get a *Hallelujah*!?

AND the exact midwife that had promised to be on-call for me was, oddly enough, at the hospital. Even though she wasn't scheduled to be there (at least according to what I was told the day before!!) Can I just say God is so into details!?!

She checked me...I was 8 centimeters dilated. almost completely effaced. and just waiting for my water to break. The plan was to break my water...but she had another woman in labor and said, "Since your so calm and at peace, would you mind if I check on my other laboring mom?" :)

While she was gone, I lay there worshipping. And I'm serious when I say it was intense, true worship. I had a hard time not belting out in song and going all charismatic on the labor/delivery floor. *wink*

At one point, the Lord flashed through my mind every single vision, promise, scripture, and word of encouragement that he had given us over the last few months. It was rapid fire. like I was watching a presentation of sorts.

And the last vision, the one that remained on the screen of my mind, was one of a massive warrior with a huge, Barbarian-like sword swinging over his head.

God had given it to me during our two-hour "Labor Session" on Labor Day. He said it represented me, warring in the spirit for victory over my daughters lives. and I believe over the lives of other pregnant women. I couldn't help but to smile. Jet later said he saw me smile and wondered what I was thinking.

After one hard contractions, I knew my cervix had dilated more and told the people in the room that Barbara should probably hurry. Thankfully she was walking down the hall to my room at that time. broke my water. and announced the baby's head was "right there". and that I was 9 1/2 centimeters.

And a half?! Who knew. That was 4:15 AM.

And there that little baby head remained for 45 minutes. As all contractions stopped. I had no urge to push. everything came to a calm and peaceful stand still.

It got to the point that it was funny. There I was, waiting for the urge to push. everyone watching me wait for the urge to push. my daughters in the background quietly working on paper dolls that my mom had brought for them. and little Lani was perfectly content to just hang out in the birth canal.

I remember thinking how she must have a completely different personality than Raegan. Because when I was delivering Raegan, the midwife actually told me NOT to push because the baby was coming on her own. Apparently I wasn't getting the job done fast enough (it was only about 10 minutes) And yes, that is still her personality to this day. She's a go-getter.

Yet. Alana wasn't in a rush. she was perfectly still. completely at peace with where she was.

But the atmosphere was so *joyful*. The nurse and I joked back and forth. The midwife joined in. Everyone in the room was laughing. It was like a fun little party.

Well, except there was no food. and I wasn't really dressed for company. *wry grin* but, you know, other than those small oversights... a party.

At one point, I mentioned to Barbara about pulling out the ol' vacuum. And while I was joking, I don't think I would've argued had she agreed. I was honestly not looking forward to pushing her out. It was like I had to get over a fear that played on the outskirts of my mind. But the Lord gently spoke to me, so clearly that it was like he was whispering in my ear:

"I told you what it would feel like. But you HAVE TO push through this, hon. Just trust me."

I have to mention that the way he addressed me changed once we were in the hospital. it went from him saying "Christin" to him using terms of endearment like "hon" and "sweetheart". I didn't tell Jet about it until hours later. At which point we were both so overwhelmed with the preciousness of it that tears came to our eyes. The Lord was so intimately present.

Finally, a little after 5 AM, I had the urge to push. I pushed just a bit. enough for them to see the tip of her little head. And then Barbara spoke up, "This is where you'll start to feel your body stretching."

I knew in that instance, I had a choice. A choice to receive what she had said over my body or draw a line in the sand. Before I had time to even process, I said, very casually, "I never feel that." Not taking her eyes away from mine, she had this incredulous look and said, "Well, that's a blessing! a huge blessing!" ... smiling, all I could say was "yeah. it really is."

Finally I got tired of not having her head out. I gave one push that caused her to crown. though I had to ask for someone to let me know that she was really out since I didn't feel anything. (yay, Jesus!)

They assured me she was. So I lay there for a minute. Gave a couple of pulsating pushes like the nurse was instructing. Then decided: Enough is enough. I'm done with this. Lord, I'm trusting you. I'm pushing through. I'm not backing down. If I tear, I tear. (I didn't by the way) But you said it'd be fine. So here goes.

And I gave one big push.

All I remember is Barbara saying, "Good job, Christin! Okay, There's her...Wait! Wait!! Hold on! Woah! Woah Woah Woah" And she literally flew out. All At Once.

Born 5:16 AM.

But because Jet wanted to technically deliver her (pull her out), Barbara sort of held in whatever part of Alana she could for him. And Jet, who was still in shock that we literally went from nothing to everything in a matter of seconds, just stood there. staring.

Until I yelled, "JEEETT. Pull. Her. Out." A little later I joked him, "I've done my part. Do yours!" ;)

Yes, it was painfree. It was like my stomach had been supernaturally numbed; I felt nothing there. I felt nothing pushing her out. I didn't tear. The only thing I felt were the back contractions: my back muscles would tighten up. I could feel them working hard. but it wasn't painful. just intense.

I would just have Jet put counterpressure on my lower back and all was well. So basically he wasn't able to take his hand away from my back. I gave his finger muscles a workout. seriously. So I suppose he did his part too, eh? :)

............

I know I haven't done justice to what all happened. I think I have to come to terms with the fact that I won't be able to at this point. There's just too much. But for now, here it is. A quick summary of the first part of our Supernatural Delivery.

Next up. The Huge Miracle no one saw coming....

Journey of Faith-

Putting It All Out There

This has been a fairly stretching process for me. To not only advertise, via the web, what miracle we were fully expecting from the Lord, but to also journal the large majority of my thoughts, doubts, victories, and questions throughout the process.

All there in black and white. for the world to read. and to judge.

When the Lord first asked me to blog the fact that His Cross canceled out all sorrow and sickness...especially the ones associated with birth...and to share my personal story in it, I wasn't sold on the idea.

Are you sure, Lord? Cause really...I got loads of other testimonies I could share. Remember? I especially like the one about the lame woman. I could totally tell that one. Dontcha think? ...No?

Though I'm a fairly "out there" person, I knew from personal experience that birth stories, in and of themselves, are a very personal, intimate matter. I knew that I could be perceived as being judgemental if someone had less than a painfree birth. I knew that I may very well step on toes and hurt feelings. I knew that my story could quite possibly cause others to question God in their own lives.

None of the things I'm real hip on doing, you know?

But the fact remained, the Lord's truth is the Lord's truth. not speculation. theory. or wishful thinking. He wasn't asking me to offend people. He was asking me to share His Truth made evident in my life. manifest in my labor and deliveries. How could I say No and still live with myself?

So, I wrote the first blog. sharing my heart, in all its vulnerability. my testimony, in all its power.

Whew. Okay, Lord, that wasn't so bad. Alrighty. Passed that test. Time to relax. Would ya hand me a pina colada, please?

But He had other plans... He then asked me, months later, to be very public with what I was praying and believing for during this last pregnancy. as I was praying. in the midst of warring for it.

For real? Lord, don't I get a rest period or something? Can't I wait until after the delivery to share? That'd be soooo much nicer. Kind of hit them with the end *Ba-da-bing* result instead of ...uh, boring them with the process. Right?! ...No?

So I began to write. to press in. to put my faith in the very place that it needs to be on a daily basis in order to be strengthened: Up Against A Challenge.

In this case, the challenge of a daily, public viewing.

And THEN my oldest girls go and decide that they want to be a part of the delivery. Okay. I like the sounds of that. Quality family time. Woo-Hoo! I'm all over it. Until I found out that in order for them to be in the room, they each had to have an adult present with them during the entire birth.

Oh yippee. A live audience as well as an internet one. Lord!?

My friend, Jolanthe, joked me once...referring to my birthing room like it was a restaurant table. "Party of Eight. Right this way!" :)

And though it made me really laugh...that was what it felt like. Like I'd be on display. As well as my faith. Can I get a collective "Ew"?!

Hm. A little quality time with my family...plus some. Lord? Are you working on a theme here? Cause really, I'm thinking I like being the more private person when it comes to my faith. You know...You. Me. The Holy Spirit. and God. We're fun group of people; it'll be quite the party. Can't we just be exclusive for a short season?Say...nine months? Then I promise to come out shouting your praise. telling of your good works.

What's that you say? that's not true faith? I need to proclaim the things I'm yet to see as though they were? You do know you're killing me here, God. Oh, that's the point? Nice.

The Lord spoke to my heart about the people who pray for miraculous healings, completely expecting to see them. He pointed out how they, first, have to make the decision to put it out there in public, vocalized prayer. Calling forth healing. And then trusting that God is who He said He is. that He would do what He promises to do.

He told me that because those people step out, He has the room to step up. HE would be the one on display. Not me.

"What I tell you in the dark, utter in the light." Matthew 10:27

And so I began to blog on a somewhat regular basis. Choosing (as I wrote in my journal) to be:

"...sick of aligning my life with fear of tomorrow. There's no fruit in that. And I refuse to be saturated by that faithless thinking.

So I want to bring my faith to a deeper depth. if need be, to a public realm where others can be encouraged. ...as they walk with me on this Faith Journey..."

So the last few months have been...um, shall we say "fun"? sharing with you this process of digging deeper into the Well of Faith. I pray that you've been encouraged to embrace that which God is challenging you to believe Him for. He IS a God who remains true to His Word. All of it.

Next post, I'll finally get to share the labor and delivery details.... You know, the *Ba-Da-Bing* reveal that I've been waiting for. :)

Update

Yes, the picture stinks. but it was all I could get. Notice the MP3 player attached to my shirt. I was jamming hardcore to worship, as we got stuff ready to go to the hospital...most likely tomorrow. Picture taken 38 weeks 1 day... 157lbs.

I'm back from the OB office, where the midwife checked me.

As of 11:00am, I was 5 centimeters, 70% effaced, and -2 station. She said that she could feel the baby's head and the only reason Lani wasn't lower was because my water was yet to break. Basically the bag of water was keeping her in. :)

No, I'm not at the hospital writing this. I'm home, as I'm yet to go into labor. We're just waiting, watching, and worshipping. Reveling in the fact that God has answered so many prayers and stayed true to everything He's told us thus far.

God has been downloading lots of stuff into my heart. but for now...this is all I have the desire and mental energy to write.

A Light at the End of the Tunnel

Yes. I'm completely demented. But, what can I say? It so cracked me up. :)



I'm at Week 38. And having fairly hard contractions...fairly regularly. Though I've never been one to have consistent anything until right before the baby comes out. And I tend to dilate without knowing it...

So at this point, it's all about Wait and See. But at least I know I'm closer than I was yesterday. And my body is gearing up for...sometime in the near future. :)

I just continue to prepare and wait.

Update

"There are no victories at discount prices." General Dwight Eisenhower

Jet and I continue to press in for that which the Lord has promised us. It's been the hardest and longest battle we've fought thus far. and the deepest.

I don't know how else to explain it. Maybe after the birth, it'll be more clear?

But for now, all I know is that we are pressing in for Victory. And that takes a willingness to battle. even WHEN we have the Lord's promise.

Take Joshua leading the Israelites to the Promised Land, for instance. That victory was no cake walk either...

And so we roll up our sleeves and continue to fight. Even though, admittedly, I am beyond weary.

The Hospital Detour. of sorts.

THE TRIP:

This morning, as I sat worshipping in my room...out of no where, an unnerving thought hit my heart.

"Something isn't right. The baby hasn't moved."

Now, Little Lani Girl is a Mover and a Shaker. I rarely have to sit still to do a "fetal count"...because she's always moving. But this morning, she hadn't. At all.

Sitting back on my bed and trying to remain at peace, I started to talk to her...move her as hard as I could...anything to get her to respond. Nothing.

Immediately, I called Jet. He prayed and as soon as he came against the spirit of fear, she moved. But just a bit.

I got off the phone relieved that I saw some movement, but still not at peace. "Do I call the midwives? don't I? I have an appointment tomorrow. So I can wait until then. She's probably okay."

On and on my mind raced. But then it rested on what a midwife had said months ago. "If you feel anything out of the ordinary...I don't care what it is....call us."

So I picked up the phone and dialed the OB office. Just to run it by them. Especially since I've recently noticed that I've lost weight, taking me back to where I was a few weeks ago.

They told me to come in. And eventually sent me to the hospital because her heart rate was dipping. and her amniotic fluid was low. They assured me that the whole hospital trip was cautionary. but I was having to fight to remain at peace.

For the next two hours, I was hooked up to monitors so the L/D nurses could keep tabs on Lani's heartbeat. As I was trying to keep tabs on the Heartbeat of the Father. pressing myself as close to His Chest as I could.

Everything looks fine. In fact, she's got a great heart beat!? I was sent home with strict instructions to rest. and drink like a fish.



THE REVELATION:

One thing that I sensed as we entered the hospital was the anxiety. fear. and hopeless. It was like I could literally feel it when we walked into the building. I can only explain it by comparing it to a fog.

Ever been driving down the road and look over to the side, seeing a patch of low-lying fog? It just sits there. resting over a certain spot. so thick that you are unable to see that which it covers.

Well, it felt like that. Like we had walked into a thick haze.

But the Lord kept bringing to mind the time spent with Him yesterday. the work that I know He did for me. the spiritual equipping that took place (I saw it in a pretty stinkin' cool vision). ;)

And I knew I didn't have to succumb to the haze. I could be the like the gale-force wind that forcibly drives it back.

And right then and there, I decided that I really want to be a person who changes the atmosphere when I enter a room. Like Paul. His presence was so saturated in the manifest presence of God, that his shadow healed people.

Meaning, if you were to see into the spiritual realm, Paul's very shadow drove back the forces of evil. causing an immediate "undoing" of their destruction (in this case sickness and disease) to take place.

I want that.

I want to be so saturated in the Presence of God that the next time I walk into that hospital, I will not only remain at rest, but there will be an outpouring of peace that extends to those near me. For His Glory.



THE PROGRESS:

While I was there, Barbara checked me to see how far along things were progressing. Currently, I'm at 2 cm. -2 station. 50% effaced and "very very soft".

Which, as she said, could mean I could deliver tonight. or sometime this month. ;) Ah yes, those vague specifics. So comforting.

But at least I know something is happening. Because after today, I am very ready to be done with this whole last leg of pregnancy.

A Laboring of the Spirit

Though I was hoping that maybe today would be a true "labor day", it was not. Rather, the Lord invited me, mid-afternoon, to labor with him in the spirit instead...

I was almost done cleaning up the kitchen when I suddenly got this urge to spend time with the Lord. It just seemed too perfect of an opportunity to miss: Jet was off today... working on school work. the older girls were playing. Raegan was napping. and I was basically doing nothing.

And as soon as I moved in the direction to Get Away with the Lord, He spoke:

"Use this time to labor with me in prayer. Let's do the work part of it. Together. Now."

Excitement and anticipation immediately hit my spirit. So for the next two hours, that's exactly what He and I did. We labored together over the pending birth. It was peaceful. radical. awesome.

Maybe one day I'll be able to use mere words to describe all that happened? or maybe not. Either way. Large things happened. Deep things. Things that cannot be described, only experienced.

About an hour into it, as I sat on my bed in prayer and praise, my eyes fell to a scripture where my Bible had been randomly lying open. It read:

"No eye has seen a God besides you, who WORKS for those who wait on him." Isaiah 64:4

It literally took my breath away. For it was like reading something that had been written thousands of years ago...for me. In this moment!

I was pressing into him. He was doing the work for me. It was that easy.

Hours after the fact, Jet even mentioned how there was a Spirit of Peace on me like never before. *sigh of contentment*

And suddenly, the whole Labor Day theme took on a whole new meaning for me.