The Making of M.O.M.

I don't have a perfect marriage. In fact, my pregnancies take their toll on our marriage. I feel so miserable and pukey-bad for the first 4 - 5 months, love the middle 8 or 9 weeks, then I slip into that slightly-less-comfortable-than-a-beached-whale phase for the last 2 months.

Needless to say, I'm cranky for a lot of the time that I gestate our babies. My sweet husband fills right in where I leave off, taking care of kids, laundry, housework, you name it. But it's hard on him.

By far, this has been the hardest pregnancy for both of us.

Add to that that I'm a woman of many words and my husband is, well, a man of less than many words. Especially when he's thinking about something.

Typically I vomit my words all over him, holding little to nothing back, letting every passing emotion sweep across my lips like a flash flood in a monsoon.

But Luke, he's a thinker. I learned a little trick a few years ago on how to move from being a talker to a listener when I'm with my man. It's invaluable for understanding, hearing and really listening to my husband. (Maybe one day I'll share it with you all, if my husband promises not to act like he knows my secret.)

Anyway, just because my sweet man isn't much on for sharing his thoughts and emotions, doesn't mean they don't exists. Before we got married, I'd only seen him cry one time. He shed a few, tender tears during our wedding ceremony. Then, he cried when he found out his dog had died and when we found out his grandfather was in critical condition, likely to die within a matter of days.

Otherwise, he was cool, calm and collected (unless there's inclement weather, then not-so-much). This life of few words, and even fewer raw emotion was the norm. That was, until we had kids. Now, my man isn't afraid to have or show his emotion. And I love it. I love it so very much.

Even though emotion flows easily for him now, he still isn't one to pour out words. Maybe it's because he can't find the right ones or maybe it's because he likes to really make sure he's sure before he speaks.

I think it's because, in our relationship, I'm words, he's numbers.

Today, I got this email from my thinker husband. It brought me to tears and to my knees to thank my Lord that I have such a man who values our children as much as I do and who sees them as the blessing they are. Glory be, how I love this man of mine.

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From Luke today, via email:

So I find myself crying, sobbing, on the way to work this morning. I would apologize for being a man that cries, but I have learned to embrace these kinds of emotions. “You see Billy cried, because, well, he is a crier.” Through certain circumstances I was able to take my oldest daughter to breakfast this morning. As I am in the car driving, images begin to flash through my mind.

Elizabeth (age 7) being able to get herself completely ready. She took extra time this morning to ‘look nice’ for daddy.
When I get home from breakfast I see Ella, our youngest (age 2), getting out of the shower {I will not give any more details on that point}.
I said “see ya” to my very pregnant wife, carrying our soon to be youngest daughter.

You see, this pregnancy has been different for me. In the past, I have taken the role of caring for the older kids and didn’t stop, nor have much time, to think about our new child on the way. With the kids being older now, things are even busier, but it is easier for all of us to spend time together. With this, I am able to enjoy each child and the beauty of what each one holds.

As I am looking through the windshield I think about my 7 yr old daughter and how she showers me with so much love each and every day. Then I remember how proud my 2 yr old was for me to see her being a ‘big girl’. Then I begin to think of our newest daughter on the way and the moments of joy she will bring me as a father and I don’t even know what they are yet.

All of this brings me to the Throne of God. Humbled he would entrust me to make decisions for these children that will shape there lives. Thankful he would bless me with smiles across a breakfast table, naked babies soaking wet with a huge smile, and to feel my daughter move in the womb. I have such a large responsibility to be a Priest, Profit, Provider, and Protector for my family. God equipped me today.

I have a sweet (much younger) friend who is due with her first baby any day now. In fact, I snapped a few maternity pictures of her a few weeks ago, both of our abdomens swollen with child.

Isn't she precious?

As her due date slips closer and closer, I see the agony in her posts on facebook, begging her baby boy to come on out and meet the world. I can almost hear her exasperated sighs as she heaves herself off of the couch or out of the bed and shuffles to the bathroom yet again.

I can probably hear her fictitious sighs and empathize with her so well, because I am there too. Those sighs aren't aren't fictitious, they're being continually breathed through my own gritted teeth.

Only being a few weeks behind her in baby-growin' I can totally relate to my young friend. Granted, her uterus is probably a lot less floppy and unstable. And since this is her first pregnancy, and not her fourth, I'd be willing to bet that her hip sockets don't threaten to leave her nearly as frequently as mine do.

But none-the-less, I know she's reaching that pivotal point of miserable.

As I tried my best to encourage her to wait on that sweet boy and not rush for an induction, I found the Lord gently telling me so many things. Which prompted me to think, then write the following letter to myself from the recesses of my own, not-pregnant brain.

Dear 38 week pregnant (for the fourth time) self,

What did you really expect? I mean, this isn't your first rodeo. You know how these things go. You know that you've never, ever had a baby early. You know that you've never, even had a single birth without the help of that devil drug, pitocin. And, most likely, this baby isn't budging until that venom is injected into your veins. So really, maybe you should just chill out with all the natural and herbal attempts.

But more so than that, think about this....

This could be it for you. There is a very real chance that this could be the last time you ever feel those sweet baby kicks, bouncing baby hiccups and a tiny baby tushy rolling around inside you. As you ride in the car, lay in the bed and read stories to your babies, savor every second, every nudge, every painful shove because one day, you're going to miss this.

One day, many years from now, you'll see a largely pregnant woman waddling along and wish, even if for a brief fleeting second, that it was you stuffed into her too tight shoes. One day, you'll look at a mother, shuffling her kids around her like a mother hen with her chicks, her belly so swollen her hip bones are a distant memory, and you'll long to feel that swish, kick and jab deep within your belly. Heck, you might even wish for a foot under your ribs.

One day, when your children are all grown up and having babies of their own, maybe even when this sweet girl you're carrying inside you is carrying her own daughter, you'll vaguely be able to remember what if felt like to have a babe squished so tightly inside you.

One day, you'll know for sure that your child bearing years are over, your eyes will fill with tears, and you'll wonder how you ever got to this place where pregnancy was no longer an option. Maybe your future holds many more newborns, some from your own womb and possibly others from another woman's womb.

But treasure this moment. Treasure the time you have with just you and this sweet girl. Know, with confidence, that this time is fleeting. 30 short days from now, the likelihood is great that this girl will be in your arms and no longer sitting squarely on your bladder. You'll feel the twitch of a muscle, tenderly reach for your stomach and realize, all too quickly, that it's no longer a miracle inside you making that familiar sensation.

Time will fade your memories and one day and you'll wish you had savored these moments just a little more. You'll wish you had slowed down just a bit and enjoyed this time with your baby. Because before you know it, this sweet baby will be sleeping through the night, then using the potty and, all too soon, be able to live life without your constant care.

And in that moment you'll realize that you rushed these moments.