Coffee spoons

I had an incredible thought today: I used to be skinny.  I don’t think I ever in my life really realized it until now… now that I’ve packed on about 40 lbs of preggo.  I had this revelation when I accidentally pulled out a piece of pre-pregnancy clothing that I used to wear but now I swear it looks like only a child could fit in it.  I think I feel relieved somehow, though, almost like I was “set free” from requiring myself to look waif-like, especially throughout my dancing days.  There’s something so powerfully liberating about embracing the femininity of pregnancy and impending motherhood.  Perhaps “flab” will be involved once there’s not a baby to fill out the curves, but hey, dear women, we are still wonderfully made.  I don’t think I ever thought I’d say those words, but when I look back at pictures of myself from the last 5 years or so I almost don’t recognize myself.  I don’t remember looking like that, even though I remember how I felt emotionally – I felt insecure, unworthy, flawed, and overly conscious about every blemish.  Compare that to this new chapter of feeling complete, strong even in my weakness, confident in who I am.  Not to say that I don’t have days of being nauseated by my own cellulite and stretch marks sprouting up in random places, but I have found that my value is vastly more than what meets my eyes when I look in the mirror.  Even that is changing… what I see when I look at myself.  Now I automatically look deeper, to my identity, to the core of who I am and who I am becoming.  Nowadays, I make myself look in the mirror and say “You are loved, you are a mother, you are a lover, you are a beautiful creation…”  That is the truth.  Will I miss being a size 4?  Honestly, who gives a damn.  Do I miss my long, auburn hair? Well, actually yes, but that was my choice and now I know how much I defined my own beauty by my hair.  How silly is that?  Pretty silly.  Girls, I hate to say it, but we can be pretty silly, and I think we need to get over it.

We are beautiful.
It doesn’t matter who we think is noticing.  We just are.

You are a treasure, my dear.
Don’t let anyone, even yourself, tell you any different.

Whew, it’s been a rollercoaster few days.  Each day has carried its own extreme from the entire spectrum of emotions I’ve known myself to be capable of, so much so that it feels disrespectful to the circumstances to speak of all of them in one blog post.  But I will, nonetheless.

My birthday was a mostly drab day until I got home from work and found my loving husband waiting for me with a beautiful bouquet of flowers and loving words.  After spending way too much time sifting through my entire wardrobe, I finally found something that fit and we went out to dinner at a surprise location.  When we arrived, I saw that we were to dine at Trezzo Vino, a place that has held special significance to us.  We had never eaten there before, but it was special because it was the place that Gabriel intended to take me on our very first date.  In retrospect, it was best that we waited until now to enjoy Trezzo Vino, because it ended up being the best dinner date I’ve ever had, with a very lovely, lengthy, and complete dining experience involving fine cheeses, wine, bread, a soup that held the most delicious flavor I’ve ever experienced, plus gnocchi, stuffed chicken, and delicately constructed deserts.  The service was excellent (and our waiter had a deep voice comparable to Star Trek’s Worf and Darth Vader of Star Wars), the atmosphere perfect, and even a former Kansas governor dined at the table adjacent to ours.  The date was flawlessly satisfying.  My husband is the best.

The next day (yesterday), however, was a bit more draining.  I was able to fellowship with 2 different people, each with different struggles but both are going through a “dark night”.  To one I offered as much encouragement as I could, seeing as her struggle is mostly spiritual and emotional, but to the other I could only listen and pray because her son is fighting for his life.  Being a listener is sometimes the most challenging thing of all because I often feel so helpless, useless.  After all this, Gabriel took a walk with me and we enjoyed the cool spring weather.  I noticed that my baby has dropped somewhat and that I can breathe much deeper (what a relief, well worth the crampy discomfort down below!).  Feeling somewhat refreshed, I answered my phone and my dad was calling to let me know that Joey Holder, a very important part of our lives for all of my life, had died.  I was undone, having already met my quota for emotional drain for the day.  My wailing ensued as I spat out my questions to God about His trustworthiness and promises, and didn’t stop for several hours… didn’t stop until Gabriel reminded me that God’s definition of healing is not always what we think it is.  Thank God I’m not alone and subject to fear and anger anymore.  Thank God my life partner can speak to my weaknesses.

Today was a contrast, once again, to the day before.  I spent most of the day at the birth center with Danielle Henry and a couple dozen other people for some labor classes, one on water birth.  I’m pretty much sold on water birth, at this point.  The more I learn, the better it sounds.  Still, I will make no definite assumptions or decisions about how I will labor until closer to that time.  I’m fully aware that a laboring woman is subject to change her mind in the heat of the moment, and without straying from the general spirit of what we think is best, I want to remain open to whatever I feel I need when the time comes.  Anyway, it was a well-spent few hours at the birth center with people who are like-minded and edifying, and I even got to see one of the girls from my Bradley class!  Fellowship and community are so important to nurture a calm and fearless spirit in a pregnant woman.  I thank God that I’m here.

I should close now, seeing that this post was much longer than I intended, and probably not all that interesting.  If you’re still reading, bless you, but stop now and go eat some chocolate.