Dear readers, I won’t bury the lede. This is a pregnancy announcement, among other things. If this is a tender topic, or you are just not in a place where it’s good for your heart to read about it, please feel free to come back next week. Take care of yourself!
I have vivid memories of Paul Harvey’s booming voice coming out of the car radio as a kid, “… and now you know… the REST of the story.” I couldn’t tell you anything else about that radio show, but I can tell you I’ve felt a little weird over the last few months, trying to write here, but also metabolizing the shock of a rather hilariously timed pregnancy. So, it’s time for me to tell you the REST of the story.
Let me back up to Lent, which, if I’m very honest, is probably where the story begins.
Or perhaps it begins even further back, with our household’s winter discussions around sexual ethics, family planning, and the bizarre way that evangelicalism has separated sex from babies.
At any rate, we entered Lent with the intention of delaying pregnancy until after our move. I had also started working with a Traditional Chinese Medicine practitioner for some hormonal issues, and I was hoping to have a bit of time to get back to some semblance of equilibrium.
Inspired by the beautiful prayers a few of my readers had shared, I decided to pray the Litany of Trust, and the Litany of Humility during Lent1. What I was not informed of was that both these prayers should come with warning labels!
You see, what I always forget about prayer, is that the things you pray for do not appear in an Amazon package on your doorstep, neatly packaged and ready for use. Instead, prayers for such things as trust and humility almost always give you ample opportunities to practice those things.
Cut to a week after Easter, when the basal body temperature I was so meticulously tracking, went precipitously UP on the day it should have gone DOWN2. Did I mention my husband was out of town that weekend, visiting our future home in NC, and sending me pictures of a place I’d still never visited? In addition to trying to have conversations with his cousin about their startup business, he also got to field a series of increasingly frantic messages from his wife, with seventeen hypothetical scenarios and an explanation of every biological factor at play (sorry, babe).
Of course, obtaining a pregnancy test with five children in tow is not the easiest task in the world (especially now that multiple of those curious children can read), so I went with ye old “Target pick up” method on the way to a birthday party for our newly minted one year old cousin. I sat through said birthday party, willing my brain to think of anything else, talking with an aunt who of course offered the helpful, “Well, at least you’re not pregnant and don’t have a newborn!” as we discussed our impeding move.
*gulp*
As any reasonable person would do, I took the pregnancy test while one child screamed in the bathroom and another screamed outside the door. And, as any reasonable person would do, the next step was to text a “told ya” picture to my husband, who had to ask “Is that one or two lines?” (Two. Definitely, positively, two).
The best way to describe my cluster of feelings was a mixture of shock, disbelief, anger, trepidation, and a deep and inexplicable current of peace, that I can only attribute to all those prayers being answered.
Now, if you want to get into all the technicalities, the short version is that TCM is very effective but can shift hormones drastically and quickly, it was one of those months where I started the monitor late, and yada, yada, yada. This is my official stance as given to the all knowing NFP Facebook page:
But, where I’ve had to choose to land over and over, is that this baby was not a mistake, but God intervening to give us something we didn’t know we needed3.
Now, have I still needed time to have a few tantrums about morning sickness and a cross country move coinciding, and to lick the wounds of, “Gosh, I really wanted to not be nursing for a few months”? Of course. I’m only human. But, having struggled through the emotional maelstrom of my previous pregnancy, I knew it was a choice I had to make to say, “Yes, Jesus. I trust in you”. The only other alternative was to be so overwhelmed I couldn’t function.
I stared at those two pink lines on April 6, and our move day was May 21. When I started to calculate, it wasn’t looking promising. The worst of morning sickness and the worst of moving were definitely going to collide. I did the math… 9 weeks pregnant would be the week before we moved, 10 weeks pregnant would be our three day road trip across the country. It was enough to make anyone sit down and give up. But, in a bizarre way that I can’t really account for, except for to say, grace, grace, and more grace, it kind of worked out. I was simple too tired and too nauseous to overthink anything4. I did a lot of flopping on the couch in exhaustion, a lot of packing just one more box, and I am eternally grateful to the people who stepped in with a meal, provided boxes, or took the kids for a few hours. I am especially indebted to my wonderful brother-in-law and sister-in-law who volunteered to make the trip across the country with us, cheerfully hauled boxes and furniture inside, and made everything way more fun for our kids. Would I sign up to do any of it again any time soon? Uh, are you crazy? If I’m truthful, my feelings about the whole process still run along the lines of, “I have no idea how we made it through that”. My husband was working close to 70 hour weeks, for most of April and May, right up until we left. We had more social commitments and goodbye gatherings than our calendar usually holds, and then there were the random special events like State Track and graduation parties that are part of the May madness. It was kind of crazy. But we had what we needed for every day, and that was really as far as we could look ahead. Again, grace upon grace.
People often act like having a lot of children makes you some sort of magical unicorn who can do things normal human beings can’t. I am no stranger to the, “Oh my gosh! Five children! I could *never*” to which my honest internal response is, “Well, you aren’t”.
In that response, I’m not saying anything except for that most the people you see doing hard things don’t feel any more equipped to do them than you would. The only reason they’re doing them is because it’s their life and God has given them the grace to withstand those particular challenges. I promise you, mothers of large families are not magical unicorns, but they have probably had countless opportunities to practice virtues like patience and fortitude.
My point in saying this is that you’re never going to get grace before you need it. Isn’t that the life of faith? You take the step, trusting you will have what you need to see it through, but this usually means starting before you’re ready. I often think of the passage in Hebrews that talks about how, “By faith Abraham obeyed when he was called to go out to the place which he would receive as an inheritance. And he went out, not knowing where he was going”5The amount of times I have leaned quite hard on that “not knowing where he was going” part is a lot of times.
Living by faith is scary. It might mean you do some sobbing on the bathroom floor, and panic about how you’re moving to tick territory and the house is definitely going to be too small6 and you’re going to have a baby and you don’t even have a midwife and you just can’t do this again. You’re probably going to go without answers to your questions for much longer than is comfortable.
I’ve done a lot of alternating between feeling crazy and peaceful over the last several months. It’s been humiliating in its own way to share plans with people, and to have mixed reactions to news of another pregnancy, not to mention the cross-country move. Past a certain number of children, people say some really weird stuff. And when you’re constantly asked, “Are you going to have more7?” it can feel like there’s no winning. Do you say, “Yes! Every two years ‘til I'm dead!” or do you say, “Definitely not.” How can you say that and be sure? Usually I land on, “Well, we’d like to have a little more space, but we’re holding things loosely8” and then even this leaves me feeling foolish.
But the truth is that part of humility is learning what matters and whose opinion you care about. It’s growing in awareness of the value of things that are irreplaceable, like souls, and being willing to look foolish or crazy, when that’s what obedience requires. It’s grappling with your own doubts, and holding your plans loosely. It’s painful, but I think maybe it’s very good for us. Living by conviction is never going to make us popular, and it’s likely never going to result in us fitting in. It’s going to be a little humiliating. Being willing to burst the illusory bubble of control isn’t a popular choice, but have you ever really been in control?
And, always, on the other side of the doubt, there is joy. Because joy always follows obedience. Every time. Not right away, not without pain, not in the way you think it will, but it comes without fail.
What a gift to be living a good story, even when it might be a bit miserable in the middle. One of the benefits of being a writer, is that even before I had my head wrapped around this whole situation, I could see how funny it all was (you know, in between bouts of “woe is meeeee I’m going to dieeeee”). What an answer to prayer. Trust and Humility. Good one, Lord. Well played.
As I drafted this post, something that kept coming to mind was the fact that not all hardships can be made into a funny story. I wrote a note about this a week ago, asking if this tendency to write about life’s difficulties and frame them as a funny story was a weird coping mechanism or a good one (the vote was that it’s a good one). In the course of that conversation, I had an exchange with
about the way stories keep us going — for example Sam’s tales of the Shire, and his framing of their epic to encourage Frodo — but also the other category of “wounds which cannot be wholly healed”. Even as I had fun writing this “rest of the story” reveal, I realize that though the situation has certainly had its hardship, it is a joyful story. This story has a beating heart and is bringing us a new life. A miraculous gift, even with all its funny complications. There are so many other stories that are not joyful, that will never make it into the category of family lore, or funny story, or that won’t be written for everyone to read. For those, I want to say, yes, I have that kind of story too. It’s a relief to let you in on the background to the last few months, but I know there are so many of you, so many of us, who carry around a “rest of the story” that cannot be shared, or that cannot be made good this side of heaven. If that’s you, I think you might enjoy Keith’s essay.I’m so happy to be back writing here, but I’m also figuring out new rhythms in a new place, and trying to make it through the cardboard mountains in between wrangling kids and making dinner. I’m definitely still recovering from a crazy couple months, but as I round the corner into my second trimester I’m feeling a little more energetic. There’s so much to be grateful for, many things we’re still praying for9and a lot of new territory to discover. I hope your summer is off to a great start whatever it holds, and that you’re getting plenty of time to enjoy the beautiful world outside your screen. I hope to be back in your inbox weekly, but we’ll see what the summer holds.
This letter is free for you to read, but costs me time and precious brain cells to write. If you’d like to support this work please like it, leave me a comment, or share with a friend. I’m so glad you’re here!
If you’d like to contribute to my “summer maternity clothes because it just stays hot here forever?” fund, you can upgrade to a paid subscription or…
Lately:
Listening: This Lazy Genius episode about snacks got my wheels turning, and after taking a poll, I decided the problem is me (hi, I’m the problem it’s me). So, we’re going to experiment with this new thing where I just endure my children’s whining and they figure out they won’t starve if they only have one snack in the afternoon. I’m also making a concerted effort to make sure that breakfast has more protein and fat (hooray for farm eggs!!) because these boys are legitimately moving all day long. There’s got to be a happy medium between growing bodies and mothers not going insane. Other than that episode, the podcast world has been leaving me wanting. Maybe I’m just not in the mood? There’s been a lot of real life interactions and socializing, so I think I just don’t want more noise when I come home.
Reading: I finally found The Outsourced Self when I packed everything up, so I’m close to finishing that, and almost done with a short read called Reveal the Gift, by Lisa Cotter, that a friend loaned me. Not sure what is next — I’m still in the process of unpacking our books, and waiting on a few bookshelves. Today I finally unpacked some of the encyclopedias and had a very happy 9 year old. He’s been at loose ends without his encyclical battle chronicles.
Thinking: I’m still trying to decide how to structure
as a part of this publication, but due to life events, I am definitely going to be streamlining the two publications. I think an opt-in section here is the direction I’m headed. However, I will have a recipe there for you over there this week ! It’s one of my very favorites. Would readers be interested in a roundup of pregnancy related content? Or perhaps a guide to surviving three days of cross country road tripping with food allergies?Eating: This fish recipe — we’ve made it with salmon and with tilapia — is so quick, easy, and delicious. I serve it with rice or roasted potatoes, and a green salad. Because I can’t eat nightshades I just leave out the paprika and I use olive oil instead of butter. Finally getting my kitchen mojo back and wanting to eat real food! There’s nothing quite like the drudgery of cooking while nauseous.
No, I’m not Catholic, but I have many readers who are. I think perhaps it was
who shared one of these (or both?) in one of her newsletters.For the uninitiated, NFP, or “Natural Family Planning” has you chart a variety of body signs, which are reliable indicators of certain things. Your basal body temperature will always drop as your menstrual cycle arrives… except for when it doesn't arrive. This is often referred to as a “triphasic” chart. I can show you a picture of one if you want 🙃.
I did look up the statistics, and the timing was a very low chance of conception. Like, less than 2%. This was helpful for me in accepting it quickly as “act of God” vs. “personal failure”.
As a lifetime over functioner I have been known to frequently end up in analysis paralysis. This didn’t happen as much because I was simply too tired.
Hebrews 11:8 NKJV
Newsflash: The house is great. It’s going to be fine. There are a lot of ticks, but we’re making it and we have an arsenal of bug spray and tweezers on hand.
I just think this is a really weird question, unless you’re a close friend. What are you actually asking that person?
Or, if I’m feeling a little snarky I say. “Well, I’m 32 and both our moms had their last baby at 42. We’re not taking any permanent measures, so what do you think?”
Prayers for our business launch (Home Disaster Medics if you’re in the area), are much appreciated.
Newish reader here. Congratulations!
Also, if there’s one thing that drives me bonkers, it’s people saying “Oh I could NEVER do what you’re doing.” I didn’t spring fully formed from Zeus’s head knowing how to make bread/nurse a toddler/etc—these are to an extent learnable skills! And I love that you pointed out that the necessary grace generally arrives just in time.
Congratulations on your new little one!
There were too many helpful moments in this essay to list, but one of my favorites was:
“My point in saying this is that you’re never going to get grace before you need it. Isn’t that the life of faith? You take the step, trusting you will have what you need to see it through, but this usually means starting before you’re ready.”