A Tale of Four Thanksgivings

That first Thanksgiving was hard, so hard that when I think about it I still feel the pain that flowed through my weary body. I remember how I felt that first Thanksgiving, achingly aware that my body was empty. Empty of a baby that I wanted so badly. Empty of the hope of a baby any time soon. I was surrounded by pregnancy in every sphere of my life, and I could barely choke out the words “I’m thankful” when we all shared our Thanksgiving joy around the dinner table. It felt like a lie. I didn’t know how to be thankful when living felt like death and tears came too easily for my comfort.

Little did I know it would take two more years before I would know the joy of pregnancy again.

I remember how I felt that second Thanksgiving. When treatment was inevitable and I had no assurance I would ever hold a baby in my arms this side of heaven. I spent my holiday battling hot flashes and mood swings in a drug induced menopause all in an attempt to get my body to do what I felt in my heart it was supposed to do—carry and sustain a baby. It was a little easier to say the words “I’m thankful” that Thanksgiving. I had seen God work. I could see, though dimly, that through the dark and heavy clouds of loss and infertility, God was doing something in my sad heart. I just didn’t know what it was yet.

I remember the fourth Thanksgiving, smack in the middle of the baby years with twins, spending many hours pumping and feeding and going to the doctor and therapy. I wondered why after all my longing for a baby God would give me such difficulty with their lives. I wanted ease, not discomfort. I wanted simplicity, not complication. I was so overwhelmingly thankful for every ounce of them, yet I struggled with my circumstances that looked different than I anticipated. Yet still, God was doing something.

Here I am on the sixth Thanksgiving. Lord willing, farther along than I was in the beginning. Still waiting for prayers to be answered. Still battling discontentment with the life I have been given with its mundane struggles, sin, and sorrow, yet daily reminded of the rock solid truth that God is a good and faithful God to his people. He doesn’t leave us. He gives us only good things, even if our definition of good is different. This Thanksgiving, I feel like I am coming to terms with the reality of life in a broken world and I am thankful for it in all its complexity.

I’ve had Thanksgivings of want and Thanksgivings of plenty, Thanksgivings of rebellion and Thanksgivings of restoration. It’s easier to say “I’m thankful” than it was in the beginning, but not because I got what I wanted. These children give me much to be thankful for, yes. But it is more than that. I’m thankful that in my darkness and cynicism and unbelief God did not forsake me. I’m thankful that when I wrestled through the lot he was giving me he still pointed me upward and worked faith into my brittle heart. I’m thankful for years of sorrow and loss, because in the loss of what was most precious to me God was found to be infinitely better than any earthly thing. I’ve learned in the wanting that God shows up, that he can be trusted, and that even when the clouds hang low a break in them is coming.

So I’m thankful this Thanksgiving. As I kiss my boys goodnight and tuck them in bed, I’m so very thankful that they are here with me. I’m thankful for their boundless energy and middle of the night cuddles. I’m thankful for the life they bring to our home that was once so strikingly empty and quiet. But I’m equally thankful that God was here with me as he taught me how to wait on his timetable.

I've Been in This Tunnel Before (Thoughts on Baby Number 3)

It’s been eight weeks since we welcomed Seth into this world. Like his brothers, his birth was not without fanfare and a little bit of crazy. Unlike his brothers, he was five days late and I was in labor with him for over 24 hours. At 3:49 AM he was born via c-section after the doctor determined his heart rate drops were enough to warrant getting him out quickly (rather than drag it out for a few more hours).

And out he came—all 8 lbs 15 oz of him.

The transition from two to three has been easier in some ways. I know what to expect from babies. I have a full term baby this time around. He’s been a more content baby than the twins were. It’s amazing how rapidly they develop in those early days when they aren’t premature. But in other ways it’s harder, like I feel like someone threw me in the deep end of the pool and handed me three kids harder. My mom stayed with us for three weeks after his birth and the night before she left I could feel my chest tightening as I anticipated trying to do this whole three kid thing by myself. So far, I’ve survived.

But more than anything I’ve really enjoyed these last eight weeks with him. Because I’ve done it before I know that these early days—when he is waking me up at night desperately wanting food, yet also desperately wanting to feel the comforting warmth of my familiar body—these days won’t last forever. Soon he will be easily distracted while eating. Soon he will want to move around and away from me, as he starts to explore his little world on his own. Soon he will be like his older brothers, still dependent yet growing more independent by the day. Soon he won’t need me nearly as much as he does right now. These days of newborn sweetness are so very short. I know that now, and so I’m savoring every last ounce of their sweetness.

When I was in the thick of the first year with the twins my sister-in-law helpfully told me that while it feels like the season won’t end, it will. What I didn’t have, that I now do, is perspective. I can see the light at the end of the tunnel because I’ve been in this tunnel before. Weeks and months don’t seem so long when you can look back on ones you have previously lived. Often I spend my days wishing life would just slow down so I could savor every new word uttered, every new developmental milestone hit, and every snuggle that never seems long enough because now I don’t have enough arms to go around. But time just keeps on moving, taking all of us with it.

So it’s been a good, exhausting, rewarding, and fast eight weeks with our new little guy. We look forward to many more. 

Happy Release Day!

Today is the day! I've already birthed one baby this month, now it is time to birth another. The Accidental Feminist: Restoring Our Delight in God's Good Design releases today (actually it released yesterday, but who is counting?). After a year and a half of writing, planning, editing, more writing, and more editing, it is finally time to release the book to the masses.

Unlike Seth's arrival, I've known this due date for a while now, and it is hard to believe it's actually here. My prayer throughout the entire process was that God would use it to encourage his people and make himself known in greater measure. The prayer is still the same and I pray it for you, dear reader.

So happy release day, The Accidental Feminist. I'm glad you are here, too!

And at some point I'll write about Seth's eventful birth on May 19, but until then here is a picture of my two babies born this month.

What I'm Looking Forward To

I don't know when you will arrive, sweet son. But I do know that I can't wait to meet you. You have been constantly on my mind and heart these last nine months. We've gone everywhere together, you and me. I've felt you kick. I've felt you squirm. I've felt you hiccup. I've seen your sweet face on ultrasound more times than I expected, which was a treat.

While I have gone through this whole delivering a baby thing before, this time is a completely different experience, though there are some familiar things. I do know what to expect from babies. I had your brothers at the same time, you know. But what I don't know is what to expect from a baby who comes when he's supposed to be born. Here are just a few of the things I'm looking forward to with you.

• I can't wait to hear you cry for the first time. I've never heard a baby cry upon delivery. Your brothers were born too early to cry much. They grunted and struggled to breathe as the NICU team worked on their immature lungs. My only reassurance was the nurse anesthetist telling me that he could hear Luke trying to cry in the room next to us. I hope your screams fill the delivery room. It will be the sweetest sound.
• I can't wait to hold you right away. I didn't hold your brothers until they were 36 hours old. I barely saw them when they were born before the NICU whisked them away for a few hours to stabilize them. Your daddy didn't get to hold them until they were five days old. I can't wait to hold you close and study your face. Daddy can't wait to hold you either. 
• I can't wait to go home with you at the same time. We left your brothers at the hospital for five long weeks. It was so sad and so hard. We missed them terribly. I can't wait to pack you in our van all snug in your car seat and take you to our home, where you will be loved, cared for, and so very welcomed.
• I can't wait to see who you look like. Will you look like your brothers, who are identical? Or will you look like daddy? Or someone else in our family? Or will you have your own look, a mixture of your parents who love you dearly?

I could go on in the ways I'm looking forward to getting to know you outside of my womb, my son. But we are excited to meet you in the coming days. You are our dearly loved, prayed for, and longed for son. Our bright spot after our loss. Life formed in an empty womb that for so long knew more death and barrenness than new life. And now we simply wait for your arrival.

Control is An Illusion

I'm now a little over two weeks away from my due date, which is really hard to believe. I've never been this far along in a pregnancy before, so in a lot of ways it's all very new to me. We've never gotten a nursery ready before. The twins came so unexpectedly that my mom and sister-in-law set everything up for us while we were in the hospital. I've never bought diapers before delivery before. I've never had to count contractions or pay attention to my body because I was already in the hospital when I went into labor with the twins (and I didn't even know I was in labor anyway!). 

In a lot of ways the extra time has been nice. It's allowed for more rest and time to reflect on the changes coming our way. It's given me time with the boys before baby brother makes his grand entrance. It's given me time with Daniel before we are sleep-deprived and delirious. And while I am anxious to meet this sweet boy, I'm thankful that he's stayed put this long. 

But in another way the extra time has been hard for me. It's revealed to an even greater degree my ever present struggle with wanting to control every outcome of my life. The twins shattered that illusion pretty quickly when they arrived eight weeks early. Our lives were turned upside down by premature infants and twice daily NICU visits. It was good for us, me especially. Now that I am in a more normal pregnancy situation I can start to believe that I am in control of this whole having a baby thing. Having some form of readiness for his arrival (a room ready, food in the freezer, bags packed) can make me think that I've got this--or that I have time to spare. So when I have a night of contractions I start to panic, not because I might have a baby born before his due date, but because he's not coming according to my plan. 

You would think I've learned by now that babies come when the feel like it.

There is a spiritual parallel to my illusion of control about the day and hour that Seth will be born. The New Testament is full of warnings to be ready for the second coming of Christ, because none of us knows the day or the hour that he will come back to bring his children home and judge sin once and for all (Matt. 24:36; Mark 13:32; Acts 1:7; 1 Thess. 5:2; 2 Pet. 3:10). All we are told is to be ready. Ready to leave. Ready to follow him to eternity. Ready to give up our fleeting lives on earth for a better one with him. We are simply told to "keep watch" (Matt. 24:42). Like a mother waiting for the arrival of her unborn baby, we do not know when the true labor will begin, bringing forth the final consummation of the redemption of our bodies--our rebirth (Rom. 8:22-25). We can believe the lie that we have all the time in the world to get ready for that glorious day, but the reality is we don't know when that day will come anymore than I know when my Braxton-Hicks contractions will give way to the real thing. But in both of these blessed events, I do know one thing, it will come eventually. I will not be pregnant forever and this earth will not be here forever either.

So as I finish up these last days of pregnancy, I want to be ready. Readiness is a good thing for both a new baby and our final redemption. But I'm learning to let go of the illusion that I can control the day or the hour, that I can be so ready that it doesn't take me by surprise when it finally comes. Only God knows that day. And what a day it will be. 

For the Ordinary Valentine's Day

Yesterday I asked Daniel if he was expecting us to get something for each other this Valentine's Day (a little late, I know). He said "no." 

"Good, me neither," I said.

It's not that I don't like Valentine's Day. It's actually quite the opposite. Both of us love holidays and celebrations, so we try to make something out of any occasion, even Valentine's Day. This year, real life has taken over and we are simply thankful to spend a quiet evening at home. 

This is our sixth Valentine's Day together. We've never gone out on Valentine's Day, but instead have continued a tradition of Daniel making dinner for us. Every year it becomes more of a treat for me that someone besides myself makes dinner. But this year there won't be any flowers, there are no cards, and their certainly aren't any presents. Three months from today our third son will, Lord willing, be born and we just replaced our heater. Real life has eclipsed candy, cards, and flowers. 

I used to not be okay with such ordinary efforts. In the days leading up to Valentine's Day, anniversaries, or my birthday, expectations were high and emotions were tense. Especially on Valentine's Day, I had a real time means of comparison in the form of Facebook and Twitter. With every poem written, bouquet displayed, and gift shared, envy and disappointment simmered inside me.

It's not that my husband isn't romantic or thoughtful. He's actually quite the opposite. But no husband or wife can live up to the perfection displayed on our computer (or phone) screens. And I felt the sting of not living up acutely. Sometimes I would forget about Valentine's Day and fail to write him a card, only to be met with a heartfelt letter from him over dinner that night. Sometimes he would rush to buy the ingredients for dinner and hurry through preparation because work doesn't stop for Valentine's Day.

The truth is we haven't had a "normal" Valentine's Day in a couple of years. Two years ago, the twins were in the NICU and we hurriedly ate a meal brought to us by a church member before heading to the hospital for our nightly visit with them. Last year, I was six weeks pregnant and could barely stomach food. This year, I'm pregnant again and we are smack in the middle of a busy work season for him. 

But this year, unlike previous years, I'm okay with the ordinariness of our celebration. For too long I have lived for the mountaintop experience in every facet of my life. My marriage is no different. I have expected the unattainable romance of my imagination, when what I really needed (and had all along) was the steadfastness of covenant keeping love. What I'm learning is that life is not made up of the grand moments we all expect as much as it is forged by the ordinary moments that comprise our days. Our marriage isn't headed down the tubes because we long for the quietness of the ordinary, it simply means we are growing more comfortable in the safety of this life God has called us to. 

It's easy to succumb to the pressure of the mountaintop experience. And I'll admit, there are some days that are such experiences. But they can't always be that way. Most of the time our days are fairly ordinary, but there is beauty in that. There is purpose in that.

I know that, for us, this is a season. So much of our disappointment over the ordinary is owing to the fact that we can't see our season for what it is--a season. There will come a day when we have more time for each other than we do now. There will come a day where we may have more money to buy things for each other than we do now. I imagine, from what I've heard from those older than me, that we will look back on these ordinary, routine days with sentimental joy knowing that it was in these moments that a family was made. 

For the first time in my life I can honestly say that I'm thankful for this ordinary Valentine's Day. And I wouldn't want to share our ordinary with any other. 

Some Trust in Ultrasounds, But We Trust in the Lord

On September 29 the baby we lost earlier this year was due. Due dates are always hard when there is no baby coming. They are a reminder of what could have been. They are a reminder of a pregnancy that didn't make it to term. They are a reminder of empty arms. I've faced three due dates now with no baby inside of me. One was because the twins were born eight weeks before my due date. The other two were because I lost the baby in the first trimester. So I'm quite familiar with due dates.

But this due date was different. This due date was filled with anticipation. Not with anticipation over the grief I would feel that day, but because I knew what was coming the next day. I would get to see our newest baby for the first time. That's right, I am pregnant again.

I am also very familiar with ultrasounds. I have had a lot of them in my day. With the twins I had more than is possible to remember. But I've always walked into that first ultrasound with the same fear and trembling. Daniel and I barely talk in the waiting room. We know what could happen. We could either walk out of that room with pictures of our new baby or walk out of that room broken over the loss of another. On September 30 we were walking into that room for the fourth time, and at that point we had experienced more bad first ultrasounds than good ones. Because the last time I had an ultrasound was when I was still pregnant with the last baby we lost, the ultrasound log picked me up as being 40 weeks pregnant. So we had to explain to the ultrasound tech that we were in fact there for a our new baby and not the one from February.

We were scared to death.

But in God's kindness he turned our mourning into dancing by letting us see the beating heart of our newest little baby, due May 14, 2015. So far, all is well.

The first trimester is not nice to me, and this pregnancy has been no different. In fact, it's been a whole lot worse. As I'm slowly coming out of the non-stop sickness, thanks to medicine, I have found myself facing the same old fear that always plague me in pregnancy.

Will I lose this baby, too? 

Pregnancy lost its innocence with me a long time ago and I feel like it's God's way of pruning me and causing me to trust him with everything.

I find myself trusting in hearing a heartbeat more than I trust the God who made this baby's heart and keeps it beating this very moment. I find myself trusting in hugging the toilet bowl more than I trust the God who knit this little, nausea inducing baby together in my womb (Ps. 139:13). I find myself trusting in the passing of another week more than I trust the God who sustains the universe and numbers every hair on this little one's head (Luke 12:7, Matt. 10:30).

You see, it's easy to brush my fears off as normative. I've lost babies. I've had a high-risk pregnancy. I've had premature babies who had to spend five weeks in the NICU. Every part of my pregnancy history causes my anxiety to rise and makes me want to think I'm justified in my response to my circumstances.

But I'm not.

My fears are no different than anyone else's fears. We all have life experiences that inform our fears, but we are still called to trust in the God who is sovereign over our very lives.

The verse I keep coming back to is Psalm 20:7:

"Some trust in chariots and some in horses, but we trust in the name of the LORD our God.""

Maybe I don't have to deal with enemies seeking to destroy me every single day. But I do have the enemy of my mind that lies to me about God's goodness and care for me and my baby. We can insert any earthly means of assurance into this psalm and the outcome is still the same. God is on the throne and he is the only one worthy of our trust. No ultrasound, fetal doppler, baby kicks, or pregnancy symptom will be the assurance I need to sustain my faith. God alone is my help and my trust.

So it's in him I trust as I walk nervously through another pregnancy. Hopeful and excited for the life he has given us again.

The Time is Never Enough

When we were at seminary, we regularly sang the hymn "Soldiers of Christ, in Truth Arrayed." The hymn, written for the first graduation ceremony of The Southern Baptist Theological Seminary, is moving and these lines have always stuck with me:

"We meet to part, but part to meet."

It's a fitting song for a seminary setting. Students are transient. You make friends with fellow students only to say "goodbye" a few years later, likely never to see each other again.

My parents were here visiting this past week, and like every time we are all together, we always think the time really is too short. "If only we had a few more days," we say. Except this time we did have a few more days. My mom and dad stayed longer than they both had ever stayed together (with the exception of my mom practically moving in after the twins were born!). When we go to their house for Christmas, we tack on an extra day with the hopes that maybe this time the time spent together will feel sufficient, like we aren't saying our goodbyes before we even get started.

But it never does. And this time I was struck by the fact that no amount of time will ever feel like enough. We could spend the next month together and still cry with the same amount of sadness when the time to go our separate ways arrives. Because it's not about the time. It's about the relationships. The more you love someone the more you want to be around them. I love my family, so naturally I enjoy their company. I will always feel like our time is cut short because of the nature of our relationship. But it's also more than that. The deep ache I felt as I watched their car drive away on Tuesday morning is pointing to something deep within my soul. I wasn't made for such departures. As a human being, created in God's image, I was made for relationship--relationships that aren't hindered by the distance of time or place. Every goodbye with my family and friends is reminding me that there is a day coming where there will be no more tears or departures.

The time will never feel like enough because it really isn't enough. The fellowship I experience with my parents is a sweet foretaste of the eternal fellowship I will experience with my heavenly Father. So I will cry. I will be sad. I will ache and miss them with each passing day. And I will look forward to the next time I get to see their faces in the flesh.

How The Church Became Our Family

Most of us can recall a time where God gives us something we think will be the end of us, only to find out later that it was the exact thing God used to strengthen our faith—or give us a better portion than we could have hoped for. Maybe it’s the break-up with the person you were certain you would marry. Yet years later you meet another person, one more suited for you and better than you could have hoped for. Maybe it’s the dream job that fell through. Yet after another unlikely interview somewhere else you get the job you never even thought to dream of. God works like that, doesn’t he? Because he is sovereign, and we are not, his hand is in the details we cannot even see, let alone attempt to control.

When God withholds something from us, his purposes are always to give us something better. Of course, we may not perceive it as better at the time, or even in the immediate future. But he is good and we are not. He is wise and we are not. He can see infinitely into the future and we strain to see what is standing right in front of us. This is why we can trust him. I know for myself, some of the darkest moments of feeling as if God has completely abandoned me have turned out to be the moments where I ultimately saw him working in ways I could never have imagined. In the desert he is working to bring water to his thirsty children. In the storm he is our strong refuge who gives us a rainbow on the other side. He does not forget us, even if we feel forgotten sometimes.

For most of my adult life I have lived away from my family. I never thought much about it except on the occasional birthday or holiday when other members of my family were gathered together to celebrate and I was left to experience the party by telephone many miles away. I missed them, but I never thought I would live near them. My life didn’t lend itself to living in their proximity and I was okay with that. When Daniel and I got married, we appreciated the forging of a new family that came with living in a city away from both sets of parents and all of our siblings. It was good for us. When we moved to Arkansas we had a church, friends, and a whole lot of time with each other that made transitioning all the easier. Again, I didn’t think much about my life away from my parents, siblings, and nieces and nephews. I cherished the moments I got with them on holidays, but was content with where God had us.

Then we had twins.

There is something about becoming a momma that makes you long for your own momma, you know? Maybe it was the fact that I was pouring every ounce of energy, sleep, and whatever leftover adrenaline remained on two very tiny, dependent baby boys. I just needed my mom to come rub my head and let me take a nap on her. In God’s kindness, my mom came a lot to help in those early months of the twins’ life. But in the interim periods between her visits to help us I noticed a recurring pattern in my own life.

When it got hard I would threaten to pack up with the twins and move to Florida. If we had a dollar for every time I said I was going to do that in that first year I’m pretty sure we would be rich by now. Some of that particular threat was rooted in my own tendency towards escapism, but some of it was rooted in the fact that for the first time in my adult life I really, really missed being around family. Of course I missed them before this time, but this was different. As I watched my little boys grow up right before my eyes my heart broke knowing that our parents and others would only be able to experience this wonder through pictures and the occasional Skype call.

But there was something more serious in my cries of despair. I was missing the treasure of hope that God was literally laying at my feet nearly every week.

During the entire time the boys were in the NICU (five weeks) our church family brought us meals and gave me rides to the hospital. Because I had a C-section, I couldn’t drive up there every day and Daniel had to keep working, so without the rides I would only be able to see the boys once a day for a couple of hours. Many women in our church sacrificed their time to pick me up, drop me off, and pick me up again two hours later. They gave me rides to the store to pick up essentials we were missing. They brought us meals so I could rest when I wasn’t at the hospital. They were our family in the absence of blood relatives.

As the time has progressed and I am in a different season, my missing of my family has only intensified. But again, we have not been left alone. When Daniel travels, friends come to help me with the boys and keep me company. When we miscarried a few months ago, many women brought us meals as we grieved and recovered.

Yes, we miss our family. Yes, we wish our boys could grow up around our parents and their aunts, uncles, and cousins. But in their stead the church has become our family. They have cried with us, rejoiced with us, and served us like we were their own. If we had received the desires of our heart, namely the seeming ease of being around our own parents, we would have missed this beautiful picture of God’s family being joined together through Christ in our own lives.

God knew what I needed in those days of despair over missing my family. He could see what I couldn’t, that the church was my family. These people who he sent his son for were (and still are) my own through Christ’s blood. And I love them like my own family.

"I Want to Read My Bible More" - Thoughts on TGCW14

It's been almost two weeks since I boarded a plane by myself to spend the weekend in Orlando listening to the Bible taught by godly men and women. In a lot of ways the daily realities of my life now make the time spent there seem like a distant memory. But the impact of the weekend has not left me, and I pray it doesn't for a long time.

This was the first TGC women's conference that I have ever been able to attend. Since it's only the second conference, I'm glad I'm not too far behind on the curve! But I did listen to all of the previous conference's plenary sessions, so going in to this conference I was eager to listen to some teachers I have never had the privilege of hearing much from before. Paige Benton Brown was one of them. I had a hard time making it to things on time while at the conference (maybe it's because I was childless for the weekend or maybe it's because I loved talking to people, or both), but I made sure to get a seat on time for her. Not only does listening to her speak make me passionate to know the Bible like she does, but she also opens up the scriptures for me in ways I never would have seen otherwise. She makes the Bible come alive and she makes her audience want to drink deeply from the fountain of God's word with her. I also went to her breakout session with my sister-in-law and we both left the session wanting to go spend some serious quality time examining the Bible for ourselves. She has a gift of making God's word appear as the treasure we often forget it is. I needed that desperately.

It's hard to capture the value of a weekend filled with teaching and fellowship with other likeminded women. Whether you spend your days with toddlers (like me) or spend your days staring at computer screen or some other daily grind, we all need rest and retreat. While there wasn't much sleeping (at least on my end), the fuel tank of my soul was filled to the brim. My husband says that everyone needs something like this every once in a while, especially if you struggle with discouragement or losing your joy in the midst of the mundane. And I was right there going into this conference. I didn't even know how much I needed the break and refreshment until I was there drinking it deeply.

More than anything I walked away from the conference with a renewed passion for God's word. Ever since the twins have been born, like many moms, I have struggled with finding joy in reading the Bible. My mind races about all that needs to get done instead of focusing on the words in front of me, or the moment I sit down to read I hear a baby cry. When I am in the midst of calm or silence, I find myself wanting to do other things (like watch TV or even read a book) rather than read God's word. Over the last 17 months I have wondered if I would ever delight in God's word again. I have had pockets of joy interspersed among the mainly dry valley of caring for twin boys.

But God met me in Orlando.

It wasn't with much fanfare or even in a burst of wisdom from the pages of scripture. I simply left with an excitement to read and study God's word. I left with a greater passion to write within the season God has given me and for his glory, not my own. I left with a love for God's people and a desire to see them love his word with all of their heart and mind.

It was good to be at TGCW14. It was good to see old friends and make new ones. It was good to see family. It was good to hear from God's word and see how God is moving in the lives of others. But more than anything, it was good to taste again the sweetness of God's word.

God Created Male and Female, and It Was Good

The first time I ever heard the word complementarian was while sitting in a pew at Bethlehem Baptist Church. I can't remember the exact moment, but I knew it was a new concept for me. My early years as a believer were spent sitting under the ministry of John Piper and the elders of Bethlehem. When I walked through those doors my first Sunday I didn't know what "sovereign" meant, let alone how important it was that I was made female and not male. But in my three formative years there I drank abundantly from the spiritual water of God's word. When I walked out of those doors for the last time as a member, I was a changed woman. 

My belief in God's good design for men and women was merely an unwatered seed, planted by my Christian mom and dad, in my early Christian days. The weekly proclamation of God's word that came out of that pulpit watered that little seed. And God made it grow.

That's why I am so thankful to have contributed to this new E-book on God's good design in creating us male and female. In the pages of this book you will find a dozen young complementarians who are committed to proclaiming God's glory in how he created us. They want you to see your purpose as an image bearer of our Creator. And they want you to find joy in your differences. 

You want to hear something even better? It's entirely FREE. That's right, free. 

If you want a fresh understanding of what it looks like to live as male or female and find joy in God's good plan, I encourage you to download this book. 

(My chapter is on my recovery from feminism)

A Run to Remember

On Saturday our family had the opportunity to run in our first 5k as a family of four. Daniel and I ran one together before we were married, but it hardly counted as a run since I could barely walk the whole thing. This time it meant something to us. We ran in the Race to Remember, which benefits an organization called Mamie's Poppy Plates. This organization provides hand painted plates of footprints and birth stats to families who have lost a child in early infancy or in pregnancy. While we have never experienced infant loss or stillbirth, we have lost two babies to miscarriage and felt like this race was a worthy cause to give our time to.

Leading up to the race I was really anxious and I couldn't put my finger on it. As I drove to pick up our race packets on Friday it hit me. I was aware that running in a race in memory of the two babies we have lost put our grief right out into the open. Of course, it's a race to remember, so it's only fitting that I would remember the babies we don't have with us. It felt so raw and in my face to take part in something that put my loss out in the open. The Internet is one thing. Looking people in the eye who have experienced similar (and far more horrific) losses to my own was freeing and excruciating.

As we stepped inside the park to join the pre-race festivities I felt my self-conscious fear melt away. Everywhere I looked there were families in shirts bearing the names of the babies they have lost. I made a point to read and process every precious name on every shirt. Names of lives desperately wanted. Names of babies who were gone far too soon. Names of boys, girls, full term, premature, and sick babies who never made it through their first few moments of life outside the womb, if they even got that far.

And that was the point.

Every person who chose to run that race on Saturday knew they were running for something more than themselves. Grandfathers ran in honor of their grandchildren. Brothers ran in honor of their sisters. Cousins ran in honor of their cousins. Aunts and uncles ran for their nieces and nephews. And mothers ran for their babies. I read those names because like their family members, I want to remember that their lives mattered, even if they were brief.

The beauty of memory is that we are given the chance to remember what is most precious to us. Even if it is laced with pain, we still have the hope that our memories remind us of happier days. God did not need to bless us with this gift, but he did. Throughout the Bible he tells us to remember, most importantly to remember his kindness to us. On Saturday, like many other mothers who have babies no longer with them, I remembered not just the lives lost, but the goodness of God in the midst of the pain. God gives and God takes away and his name is always worthy of my praise.

(Before the race there was a balloon release in memory of the babies who have died. If you had an early pregnancy loss before you knew the gender you received a white balloon. If you look closely, the above picture is of our two white balloons floating away.)

A Quiet Month

It's been a quiet month around here. Sorry for that! My book is due June 1...so just a few days away. I've been in the thick of editing, chasing around busy 15 month olds, and hanging out with my mom who came for a short visit. But I will be back in June. Thanks for sticking with me in the silence.

To tide you over, here is a picture of the twinsies. They seem the make the silence on this site all the more bearable, right!?!? Maybe I'm a little biased. Back to writing. See you on the other side!

On Five Years of Marriage

Marriage is one of those things that you think you know all about and then you get blindsided by the reality that what you thought you knew really was nothing at all. At least it was that way for me. Before we got married I thought a lot of things about marriage. I had high expectations. I expected that we would spend endless amounts of time together. We would relax at the end of a long day and watch television and read together. We would explore our city and go out to eat at fun new restaurants. But those things take time and money, none of which we had a lot of as we got married in the middle of Daniel's seminary career. I expected all that we knew about manhood and womanhood and conflict and resolution would somehow just fall into place. But textbook and real life are two very different ballgames. I expected more children, easy pregnancies, and a different career path. None of those things is true of our life together. Earlier this week Daniel and I both read a helpful article on what to do when your twenties aren't what you hoped they would be. We can relate. We got married in our twenties and they weren't what we thought they would be. In some ways they were better and in others much, much harder. But we do know one thing:

We are not the same people today that we were five years ago.

And for that we are grateful.

Marriage has been a good and hard road of unexpected turns and circumstances. I have seen firsthand what it means to be loved in sickness and in health. Daniel has held my hand as I've been wheeled off for one surgery, one C-section, and one D&C. He wept with me through two miscarriages and two years of infertility. He has held my hand through uncertain ultrasounds with a high risk pregnancy and made me dinner when pregnancy hormones made the smell of the oven too much for a queasy stomach to handle. He has loved me through happiness and tears. He has stood with me during multiple middle of the night feedings and daily visits to the NICU. He has loved me fiercely. We have laughed over things that only we think are funny and talked passionately about things that only we can understand. There is no one else I would rather spend my days with, even if they are hard and good and messy and crazy.

But like all marriages, ours is far from perfect. We know what it's like to fight on date night and go to bed frustrated. We know what it's like to feel distant even when you are sitting right next to each other. When we said "I do," five years ago, we felt a rush of emotion and never wanted it to end. We know what it's like for that emotion to wane and then come back with greater intensity than there ever was before.

What I've learned in these short five years is that I have a lot to learn. We are not where we want to be, but are glad we get to walk this road together. We know less today than we did five years ago, but by God's grace are not the same as we were that joyous day either. I've learned that no marriage is perfect. Every marriage has its quirks and blind spots, but the beautiful thing is it is ours. This story is our story. With all of its tears, disagreements, laughter, and silliness, it is ours. God has joined us together and he is making us into a picture of himself.

God knew what I needed when he gave me Daniel Reissig five years ago. And I wouldn't have it any other way. Here's to fifty more, babe.

Life With Twins: "You Must Be So Busy!"

One of the many comments I get when I'm out and about with the twins is "you must be so busy!" I guess I am. The truth is, since I have only had twins, I don't know any different. I was thrown into this whole parenting thing with two babies instead of one. So I've learned parenting like the rest of my mom friends, just with less arm and lap space. As you can probably imagine, I get other comments, too. Comments like "Better you than me!" "They must be double trouble!" Those are true statements, too, I guess. When one gets into something, the other usually follows. And I am glad it's not them raising these precious boys. I like them and I'm so glad they are mine. Twins tend to attract attention and comments, which I've gotten used to, and they boys don't mind at all! They LOVE the attention from people.

In all honesty, life with twins has been the craziest, most amazing, most difficult, most joy-filled reality I have ever known. Yes, I'm busy. Yes, I'm tired. Yes, my kids disobey and get into stuff. But that's what motherhood is. It's busyness. It's exhausting work. It's constantly training and teaching my precious sons that there is a way to live in this crazy world.

With all the well-meaning comments, and some not-so-well-meaning, I always remind myself and them that double the crazy means double the joy. We really believe that, Daniel and me. We look at these two sweet 14 month old boys and think, "we can't believe we get to be their parents." Sure, some days are hard. I'm not going to pretend it's always smiles and giggles around here. It's not. But nearly every day when we put them to bed we marvel at the stewardship we have been given. God has entrusted these precious souls to us. What a task!

Busyness comes and goes. There are some days that are filled with a little more crazy, tears, and disarray than others. But there is never less love and joy. And as I like to say often, "double the crazy truly is double the fun."

A little by way of update on these two, since I realized I haven't done this since they were 10 months old!

Luke is officially out of his helmet. Praise the Lord! He was such a trooper through the whole process. Both boys are growing well and learning so much. They enjoy playing with cars and balls. What little boy doesn't, right? Zach can say "eye" and "nose" (it sounds like "ne") and can point to both. Luke is stuck on only saying and pointing to his nose. They love to eat and drink milk, which is such a change from a year ago! Luke LOVES tomatoes. Seriously loves them. They both love fruit and would only eat that if I gave it to them exclusively. They have become quite attached to their blankets, which I find absolutely precious. Daniel and I always think each phase is so fun, but this has been our favorite so far. They love playing and learning new things. They will bring books to us and toys to us and want us to play with them or read to them and it melts our hearts. All in all, it's been a fun second year with them!

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This post is part of a blog link-up for the Twin Talk Blog. Since April is Multiple Birth Awareness Month, I wanted to join in the fun with other twin mamas! I wish this blog on twins had been around last year at this time. But I enjoy reading it now!

The Frowning Providence of Miscarriage

Pregnancy has always been a bittersweet experience for me. We lost our first baby through miscarriage after a few short weeks in my womb. After two years of surgery, medicine, tests, and begging God for another child, God graciously gave us the twins. They have been the greatest earthly joy in our lives. But my pregnancy with them wasn't easy either, leading me to deliver them eight weeks early. We love having children and long for more, but we always enter pregnancy with a slight hesitancy. We know how it could end. We know how uncertain it can be. The innocence has been lost for us.

It was with that cautious fear and expectant hope that we began walking through another pregnancy. In mid-January we were overjoyed with the news that God had given us another life. We were so excited to see the twins with another sibling who was so close in age to them. But we were a little nervous. Would this pregnancy proceed as planned? Or would it unexpectedly end? Would it be complication free? Or would I face another difficult pregnancy? Early on we learned that my progesterone was low, which only heightened our fear. But we also felt a calm that only the Lord could provide. We had seen him walk with us through so much already and wanted to trust him completely with this little one he had given us.

Pregnancy symptoms came on early and with full force, leading us to believe that all was well. We scheduled our first appointment and went last Monday fully expecting to see our wiggly, 9 week baby on an ultrasound.

But that was not to be.

I knew something was wrong when the ultrasound tech took longer than I was used to. With the twins, she found two of them within seconds. This time she struggled to find even one. Within minutes our worst fears were realized. The baby had never fully developed, but the sac did. Essentially, my body had been thinking I was growing a baby all along, which explained all of my pregnancy symptoms.

To say that we are heartbroken would be an understatement. It's been a week and we still are trying to process the reality that we are walking this road for a second time. Miscarriage is so ugly and so raw. It takes the hopes and dreams of expectant parents and dashes them on an ultrasound table or the bathroom floor. It takes something that should bring the greatest joy and ushers in the greatest pain.

And we are feeling all of it.

The twins have been such a bright spot for us in these dark days. They don't know that Mommy and Daddy are grieving, but they do give us love and affection regardless of our tears and pain. They are a balm to our broken souls.

We have been comforted by the truth that God never lets us go. The loss of our third baby was not a surprise to him. He is a good and loving Father who walks with us through even the darkest of days. And we have felt that mercy, too. We learned with our first miscarriage and subsequent infertility that God is working good even in our pain. It is through tear-filled eyes that we long to see his goodness in the midst of this sorrow, too.

"Judge not the Lord by feeble sense,
But trust Him for His grace;
Behind a frowning providence
He hides a smiling face."

A New Year of Projects

I waited a little bit to announce this because I wanted to get my bearings about it all before I started spreading the news. We had a whirlwind of a Fall and holiday season, so the excitement about what our future holds just got swept up in the excitement of buying a house, moving, and traveling for Christmas. But here we are. It is January and the reality is starting to set in that this is really happening.

So what is it?

I am writing a book!

In June of last year (2013) I was contacted, much to my surprise, by a literary agent. At the time I was in the thick of little babies and sleepless nights, so while I shared my ideas for a book project with him, I didn't think much of it. In August, he contacted me again and said that his team would like to work with me to get this book published. To make a long, drawn out story short, in November I signed with Crossway. And so began this crazy journey.

The truth is, this book has been on my heart for a long time. It all began with an article I wrote six and a half years ago on recovering from feminism. Over these years, the Lord has brought people along my path who have encouraged me to turn the idea of the article into a book. So little by little I plugged along at a proposal, always thinking that this was a very distant future project, not a right now one. God had other plans and we couldn't be more excited. I say "we" because this is definitely a family project. Daniel has been so very supportive and encouraging of my writing and we are looking forward to seeing what God does through this little endeavor.

So call me crazy, but that is what our 2014 holds. The manuscript is due June 1, so I better get to writing! My prayer for this book is that God would use it to encourage many women to see that God's plan for womanhood is for them, regardless of their station, season, or position in life. He had a good purpose when he created us as female. And I am looking forward to discovering the beauty of his design with those who read.

And if you think about it, you can pray for me. I have a lot of work to do!

10 Months: A Twin Update

 

 

It is so hard to believe they are 10 months already. Getting into the double digits with them makes me feel like this baby stage is quickly leaving us. And while I'm excited about the future with them, there is something about the cuddliness and sweetness of the baby stage that I will most certainly miss. It has been a while since I updated on these little twinsies, so I figured it was about time.

 

They are growing every day and busy as can be. They are all boy. They like to crawl, climb, pull up, and get into anything they can get their little hands on. Zach is a "swiper", as we like to call him. If you aren't careful, he will swipe anything, things like knives off the table, food off your plate, or the paper that seems out of reach. Luke is our bouncer. He likes to bounce all of the time. He also likes to stand, which can prove challenging at times. They are very happy little guys. And social. I am pretty sure they have never met a stranger. This is very comforting for me when I leave them in the nursery at church or have a babysitter for them.

 

Luke is still in physical therapy and helmet therapy, but doing better every week. We are so pleased with his progress. Zach is still bigger than Luke. He even likes to exert his physical dominance by stealing toys from Luke regularly. Poor Lukey doesn't mind, but Zach minds a lot when Luke takes his toys! They are learning how to babble and say things like "ma-ma" and "da-da" and even can wave and say "ba-ba"! Zach can't say it much yet, but Luke is getting there!

 

They absolutely love each other. It is such a joy to watch. They are never far away from each other, and if they are, they quickly come back together. Zach makes Luke laugh all of the time and I only wish I knew what he was doing that was so funny to him!

 

It's hard to believe that a mere 10 months ago they were my little NICU babies. God has done so much in growing them, changing them, and protecting them. They are the sweetest blessing to us and we are so very thankful for them. When I think of the Christmases without a baby, and how my heart longed for full arms, I never imagined both of my arms would be full. And full they are! We are truly celebrating God's kindness to us this Christmas. His kindness in sustaining us in the years of miscarriage and infertility. And his kindness in giving us these little miracles. We love them so!

Here are some more pictures of them in action!

Life With Twins: 8 Months Later

Tomorrow these sweet boys will be 8 months old. I can hardly believe it. Sometimes it feels like yesterday that I saw their precious faces for the first time. And then other times it feels like they have always been part of our lives. We love them so stinking much!

So what is life like with these twinsies? One part crazy. One part totally fun. And equal parts overwhelming joy. I will say, the first 5 or 6 months were really intense. With the first 5 weeks being all things NICU, coupled with the fact that they were pretty much like newborns for the first 4 months of their life, it was exhausting. Then you add the fact that we have never been parents before, and you have a recipe for a little bit of chaos.

Would I do it again? Absolutely.

Around 4 months we realized Luke had some issues with neck rotation and it was confirmed by an occupational therapist and his pediatrician. That explained his flat head (he only slept on one side). He was diagnosed with torticollis, which started us on a busy few months of therapy evaluations, head scans, and doctor visits. He will be in physical therapy until he reaches his important developmental milestones for the first year, and he will be in the helmet about as long, too. Thankfully, we have gotten into a good routine with sitters for Zach, occasionally taking them both to therapy (Luke does better with brother there sometimes), and doing home exercises. At first, I was really sad and overwhelmed with the prospect of more doctor visits for our family. Our life has been doctor visits for the last year or so and I just wanted some normalcy--whatever that means, right?

So what are the twins like?

They are so much fun! They are really happy babies for the most part. They have their usual crabby moments, but who doesn't? They love attention and people. And they especially love women and little girls. They have really started to notice each other and "talk" to each other. I love it and can't wait to see them interact more and more! Luke is much more vocal than Zach, though they both like to talk. Luke often talks himself to sleep at night time and talks himself awake in the morning. They smile all of the time. My favorite moment with them is when I go get them from naps or in the morning. They go crazy in their cribs with excitement!

They really want to move. Just this week they both have started getting on their knees and elbows and started rocking. They roll everywhere (especially Zach) and they can scoot backwards and with their legs (while their head is down), but they often get frustrated when they can't move. They both sit up well and love being able to see the world. Luke's physical therapist told me yesterday that some babies have little interest in moving, but that is not him at all, nor is it true of his brother. They cannot wait to move, though mommy is fine with them waiting a little longer! Honestly, their drive to move doesn't surprise me at all. Luke was very active when I was pregnant with them. I don't think he ever stopped moving. Zach was active, too, but nothing like Luke was.

They also aren't as cuddly anymore because they want to move. The other day they wanted to cuddle before naps and I ate up every minute of it because it rarely happens anymore. I miss it!

Growth wise they are catching up nicely. The doctor said they are doing exactly what they should be doing. Zach is still bigger than Luke, but they both are ahead of the curve, which is what we want. They love eating solids! That is a huge prayer answer for me because bottle feeding has been a bit of a challenge at times and I was terrified to introduce something new. I think they like solids better than bottles! And Zach has a tooth coming through, so that explains his fussiness the last few weeks! I am sure Luke is not far behind.

People often asking me what the hardest part of having twins is, and while I have nothing to compare it to, I think the fact that I can't hold them both at the same time is the most challenging. Having two kids is not unique to many moms, but having two infants is. And the fact that they both need to be transported by my arms poses a challenge sometimes, especially when there are over 35 pounds of baby between the two of them. I suppose it is good that I am learning how to share my love and attention early on because that is just part of being a mom, but it does kill me sometimes that I can't pay attention to both of them at the same time. If I could multiply my arms and my affection I would be golden!

So that is where we are at with these boys of ours. Most days my eyes well up with tears thinking about God's kindness to us. I remember vividly the many months and years of begging God for a child, just one child to call my own. And in his kindness he gave me two precious, precious boys. I try to remember that especially when I feel like I am losing my mind with exhaustion and sinful lack of patience. I cannot imagine any other life than the one I have right in this moment. I love these boys with every fiber of my being. They are such a gift to Daniel and me. And we can't believe how far they have come!

Lessons Learned in Six Months of Motherhood

I have only been a mother to little babies for six months now (how did that go so fast?!?!?), so I am by no means an expert. In fact, I am pretty sure I know less about parenthood today than I did the moment the boys were born. Motherhood has humbled me, big time. And (on most days), I'm so thankful for that. Before I had the boys I thought pretty highly of myself. I had watched my friends have kids and thought I had a pretty good handle on this whole parenting thing. I was going to be that "laid back mom" who made everyone marvel at my mad mothering skills. First, I don't know where I ever got the idea that I had a shred of an easy going personality. And second, I was way wrong. Like I said, motherhood has humbled me. So this post is mostly a confession about all I've learned these last crazy six months. It's not a parenting manual. It's just reality. And I'm sure in the next six months my eyes will be opened to the many more things I have yet to learn.

So consider this a letter to my first time mom self. It's what I only wish I knew six months ago.

Hold the baby. Seriously, Courtney. Pick up that sweet baby you helped create and snuggle until both your hearts are content. I was like a "holding Nazi." The boys could only be held at certain times of the day and for only a prescribed period of time. My poor dad came to visit right after they came home from the hospital and I was so stressed about them getting used to being held and never sleeping at night that I took no pictures of him holding the twins because he hardly even got to hold them. I'm sure he held them some, but not as much as he should have. Courtney, hold the baby.

Self-soothe will come later. Again, I was obsessed with this whole self-soothe idea. I read all these things about the importance of learning how to self-soothe. I didn't want them to be poorly adjusted and have issues until they were adults because they never learned this vital skill, so I stressed about it. And stressed about it and stressed about it. They will learn it, Courtney. If they don't, I'm pretty sure they won't be relying on you for comfort when they are eighteen.

Relax. Just relax. Sleep patterns will emerge. You will survive the sleepless nights with most of your sanity in place. They will eventually stop crying, and life will settle into a good routine. Relaxing will help you enjoy the moment, which is the most important thing in these early days. The precious, baby moments won't last forever and you will want to remember yourself relaxed and happy, not frazzled and crazy.

Put down the books and get to know your baby. Having twins has really made me see that no two babies are alike, even if their DNA is exactly the same. If I believed everything a book told me I would be trying to fit one or both of my children into a mold that he simply wasn't made for.

Let go of your need for control, because it's just an illusion anyway. This is a lesson that God obviously wants me to learn because he keeps bringing it up in my life. I want to learn it well.

And most importantly, Courtney, be thankful to God for these precious gifts. You aren't guaranteed more sleep. You aren't guaranteed days of ease. You aren't guaranteed obedient children. But you are guaranteed a heart full of love. And that's what I want to remember from this first year of life. I want to remember that my heart swells with love for these precious boys every time they look me in the eye and smile bigger than I knew possible. I want to remember that I'm daily brought to tears over God's provision for these boys. These are the things that will stay with me even when the most well intentioned day doesn't even come close to going as planned.

It's been a good six months as their momma. And I can't wait for every month after.