This last Christmas Eve, Stephen and I took Benjamin to my father's graveside to leave a poinsettia. The entire cemetery was covered with a sheet of ice and a foot of snow (in some places 2 or 3 feet), but we wandered within the general area we knew my father's headstone to be, hoping we'd find it anyway. After a while of digging and searching, I started to feel discouraged and even a little heartbroken. How on earth could we possibly find it?! I couldn't even explain why it mattered so much to me that we do find it, I only knew that it just did.
I silently said a little prayer (as did Stephen, though at the time I didn't know it) and wandered around some more, doubtful. My sweet and determined husband began digging with his bare hands and after another few minutes, I said, "We're not going to find it. Let's just go."
Just then, a car pulled up next to ours and two women got out. They began digging and searching in the same area we were and I overheard one of them mention that "The Gillette's are over here somewhere."This especially caught my attention: my paternal grandmother's maiden name is Gillette and she and my grandfather were buried right next to my father. I went over to the women, introduced myself, and learned that one of the women is a cousin of my father's. She knew where my father's headstone was and said that we were looking too far back. We started digging in the area she suggested and almost immediately uncovered my dad's headstone.
There is a God in heaven and He does hear us. The tiny, silly things that matter to us matter to Him and He is always looking for ways to bless our lives with the knowledge that He cares and loves us, that He is aware of us. We just need to be still and quiet, and watch and learn. I believe that with every fiber of my being.
As I've mentioned before, when we found out we were expecting our second child, one of my many worries was being able to have the strength and energy to still thoroughly enjoy my firstborn's stages and growth. Well, God didn't bless me with a sick-and-fatigue-free pregnancy, BUT He did (and still is) blessing me with the ability to see and appreciate the small moments. Like when I'm in the bathroom, throwing up the breakfast I had just managed to choke down, and my son comes crawling down the hallway after me, peering around the door frame to give me one of his melt-your-heart smiles. Or when I'm so tired I can barely move, so I curl up on the couch with Benjamin and a pile of books and get to hear his squeals of delight as we turn the pages (this only lasts for a few minutes, but they are a blissful few minutes). Or when I randomly get a spurt of energy and we dance in the kitchen while attempting to get something together for dinner; I feel like I want to die five minutes later, but the cheers and grins from Benjamin make it worth it. Or when I'm unbelievably exhausted and just can't chase after him, I get the chance to sit back and watch Benjamin discover his world (his favorite is currently emptying the tupperware drawer in the kitchen), both of us fascinated. Those small and simple everyday moments are what hold me together and help me to feel like I'm not "missing out" on the joys and wonders of the first year.
Tender mercies.
I've become somewhat of an obsessed researcher as I've been trying to do EVERYTHING in my power to have a better experience with labor/delivery with this second baby (for those of you who don't know, my delivery with Benjamin was pretty horrific). Anyway, Stephen and I have been looking into hiring a doula to help us achieve this. The doula we're considering gave us some information that led us to think about switching clinics where we were receiving prenatal care to optimize our chances of having the delivery experience we're hoping for. After looking at the new clinic's web page, we learned that they did not accept our insurance. I was pretty discouraged. One morning I had the thought to call the clinic, just to see. To my great surprise, they actually were taking new patients with our insurance! I immediately made an appointment and they got us in the very next day. Tender mercies. After visiting with two of the doctors there, I was already feeling hopeful and excited (something I did not feel at our previous clinic). They made my concerns feel valid, took into account my thoughts and opinions, and helped me to feel positive about attempting VBAC (vaginal birth after cesarean). Tender mercies.
Throughout this pregnancy, Stephen and I have had experiences and feelings that led us to firmly believe that we were having a daughter. We were convinced. When we went in for a "fun ultrasound" (as they called it, since the primary purpose was to just let us see the baby and potentially discover the sex of the baby) I found myself very anxious. There were a LOT of people banking on this baby being a girl (Stephen and I included), and I was worried that if it wasn't, disappointment would override excitement. I loved watching my little black and grey blob wiggling around on the ultrasound screen, trying to hide from the poking and prodding. I immediately felt a new sense of attachment as I made out little hands and feet on the screen, which is another tender mercy for me considering I had been having a hard time accepting this pregnancy to begin with. I was in love.
Tender mercies.
