Oh, baby, baby!
We are getting so excited for this little kiddo to join our world. We reference him/her in almost all of our conversations. We usually refer to it as a "her" because we think it's a girl (although we'd be thrilled either way), and Kevin often reminds me that his son is not going to be happy if he finds out we referred to him as a "she" for months of his gestation. About five more weeks until we find out the sex!
My belly is started to show more, and I'm rockin' the bella band pretty much daily now. I'm excited to hopefully start looking pregnant and not fat soon :)
My heart and brain have been on overload lately. They've been overflowing with thoughts and hopes for our life with this little baby, but they've also just been really thinking about my identity lately. I desperately do not want my identity to be found in anything of this world. I don't ever want to be focused on being trendy, or creative, or artsy, or smart, or funny, or or or. Don't get me wrong; I don't think being any of those things is wrong at all. However, when it becomes your focus and your identity and your source of pride, it absolutely is. It seems so easy for me to get sucked into those things. If it's something I enjoy, great, but if it becomes an idol, I don't want anything to do with it. I don't want to be the girl who ____________. If my name is brought up, I want people to know me as someone who loves Jesus and loves His people. I don't want people's first thought of me to be anything outside of that. Again, don't get me wrong; I realize that I am nowhere near that, but Lord Jesus, please continue to transform this heart. It seems like even as a mom-to-be, there are crazy expectations from every angle about how we raise our child and how we live, and if we want a nice home, that means we're wordly and obsessed with money, but if we want to abandon everything and travel, we're irresponsible and unrealistic. Sometimes, I just want to scream at the world to leave me alone. It's in those times, however, that I realize that it's my fault for letting those expectations affect me at all. Hellooooo conviction. Come, Lord Jesus!
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Thursday, April 8, 2010
160
A week ago, Kev and I heard our little pumpkin's sweet heartbeat. Our midwife couldn't find it at first, but I didn't panic, thanks to the wise advice of this lady.
Our midwife calmly rolled in the little ultrasound machine to make sure she was looking in the right spot. She isn't trained to use the machine, but we did get little glimpses of our sweet baby. He or she was moving around SO much. We got quick glimpses of fingers, and his or her legs and arms looked like they were doing the macarena. Kevin is said it'll be a boxer; I said it'll be a dancer :)
The heartrate was 160 which our midwife said was nice and strong. Almost everyone around us thinks it's a girl, and I kind of agree with them. I realized that everytime I have a thought about this baby (which is quite often), I think of it as a female without realizing it.
I finally realize why people usually say they don't care about the gender as long as the baby is healthy. I've been bombarded lately with all of the horrific things that can go wrong with the baby, so I am just in an almost constant state of prayer that his or her little body will develop strong and healthy. For some reason, several people from various parts of my life have been telling me lately about people they know whose baby died a week after birth, or they found out two days before it was born that it had a horrible, fatal defect, or they miscarried at 18 weeks, or other horrible things. Horrific! I just keep reminding myself that a) we serve a God who has promised us GOOD things and really and truly LOVES us. We have to just trust that our sweet babe is in His hands, and He knows what He's doing. and b) I know tons of people with babies and kids, and almost all of those have had normal pregnancies and healthy babies.
And lastly, I have been feeling like a fat whale lately. I haven't gained any poundage yet, but my clothes aren't fitting which is never good for the ol' self-confidence. Kevin's like, "YOU'RE PREGNANT!" Yes, darling, I realize that, but I've never had my clothes refuse to button or fit so tightly on my new curves. I'd rather just start looking pregnant because at this point, I just look like I have a big beer belly. Yuck.
Our midwife calmly rolled in the little ultrasound machine to make sure she was looking in the right spot. She isn't trained to use the machine, but we did get little glimpses of our sweet baby. He or she was moving around SO much. We got quick glimpses of fingers, and his or her legs and arms looked like they were doing the macarena. Kevin is said it'll be a boxer; I said it'll be a dancer :)
The heartrate was 160 which our midwife said was nice and strong. Almost everyone around us thinks it's a girl, and I kind of agree with them. I realized that everytime I have a thought about this baby (which is quite often), I think of it as a female without realizing it.
I finally realize why people usually say they don't care about the gender as long as the baby is healthy. I've been bombarded lately with all of the horrific things that can go wrong with the baby, so I am just in an almost constant state of prayer that his or her little body will develop strong and healthy. For some reason, several people from various parts of my life have been telling me lately about people they know whose baby died a week after birth, or they found out two days before it was born that it had a horrible, fatal defect, or they miscarried at 18 weeks, or other horrible things. Horrific! I just keep reminding myself that a) we serve a God who has promised us GOOD things and really and truly LOVES us. We have to just trust that our sweet babe is in His hands, and He knows what He's doing. and b) I know tons of people with babies and kids, and almost all of those have had normal pregnancies and healthy babies.
And lastly, I have been feeling like a fat whale lately. I haven't gained any poundage yet, but my clothes aren't fitting which is never good for the ol' self-confidence. Kevin's like, "YOU'RE PREGNANT!" Yes, darling, I realize that, but I've never had my clothes refuse to button or fit so tightly on my new curves. I'd rather just start looking pregnant because at this point, I just look like I have a big beer belly. Yuck.
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