Gingerbread houses....

December 6, 2009 marked my first date with Paul. We met in the church choir shortly after I joined. After our lunch date, we met back at the church for the orchestra's program and a rehearsal for the choir's program the following week. One week after our first date, we were taking pictures together, all dolled up in tux and formal wear. Every year since this, our Christmas season has started in August when we rolled out Christmas music at church to ensure we'd be adequately prepared come December. Each year, the same dolled up picture....dating, married, sharing our fertility journey, Lucy, Sophie, expecting Eva....each year the "same" picture marked a wonderful milestone!

This year....this year is different. In August, God asked us to leave our church home. In some ways we understood God's request and in other ways we did not. Brokenhearted yet eager to see what God had, we were obedient and left. We visited a couple of places before finding where we felt God was leading us*. Life was moving along and we had a wonderful Thanksgiving with family.

We got home and pulled out Christmas stuff so we could start our advent calendar on December 1. I adore decorating for Christmas for countless reasons and ornaments are one of my favorite things ever. This year, instead of elation, unpacking Christmas stuff weighed on my shoulders like a ton of bricks. Why? Was the meaning of Christmas somehow different this year than last? No. Still about the birth of the most significant person to walk the earth. Still about Jesus and that is cause for celebration. Through tears and some less than grace-filled moments on my part, I had an epiphany. For the first time since 2009 our Christmas season hadn't started back in August, our family picture wouldn't fit the tradition, we wouldn't be part of the Christmas program because that wasn't our church home this year. Ok, well that just sucks. I didn't expect leaving our church home to not fully hit me for three months so I was kind of blindsided.

As I was trudging through my funk and struggling, we were charting new traditions for our Christmas season. The girls decided they wanted to make a gingerbread house so we headed to Target for a kit. The first one we found was fully assembled and you just decorated it. Lucy grabbed it off the shelf and said, "This one mommy! we need this one." I noticed another shelf with multiple options you assemble yourself and then decorate. I found myself standing in Target with my daughter whining that we needed the fully assembled one. It felt like an out-of-body experience as I said, "Can you just trust mommy that these are better? Can you trust that I know a tiny bit more than you? It's not as much fun if it is already built."

Hmmmm....ok God....Can I just trust that you know what is best for me? Can I just trust that you  know far more than I do and since you told us to leave and you led us to a new church home that you have a plan. I'm not trusting you right now, but I can choose to do that.

Oh, gingerbread houses!! Box includes: house pieces, royal icing, candy for decorating, biblical wisdom......who knew?!

There will be more tears. My heart still hurts. Something that has defined our holidays since we met is gone. But can I trust that these days are going to be better? Can I trust that His story for me and my family has to include these steps and this pain in order to achieve a Kingdom purpose? I have to choose to....over and over, I have to choose to. If I don't, Christmas really is just about a family picture, a few presents, the decorations, and a program. If I don't choose to trust that God is in control like scripture tells me and if I don't stand on everything working together for His Kingdom then my King becoming a baby means nothing.

Perhaps the source of most of my tears will come from the realization that in my heart I had reduced Christmas to my pre-built gingerbread house--everything done for me just waiting for some decoration (or in our case, as my husband says, our annual baby to be added to the picture). I believe scripture is true and the story of Jesus' birth is the reason we celebrate at all. NOTHING else matters. It's about the baby....the baby born to die on a cross. This is not a cookie-cutter story to just insert into my holiday image. It is THE story out of which my holiday images should come.

My favorite Christmas carol has always been "O Holy Night" and in my funk this week one line spoke to me like never before. I told Paul it might be the best line I have ever heard because it drew such a vivid image for me. This line is my prayer for my own heart and for my family as we celebrate the birth of our Savior without the pre-built house to which we'd grown accustomed...

the thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices

*When we pulled up to our new church the first Sunday, Lucy asked, "Where are we?" We told her it was a new church we were trying and we were going to ask God if this is where he wanted us. She immediately said, "Can I ask him now?" Of course we said yes and she prayed. We piled out of the car and she panicked because she forgot to say "amen." Once we rectified that, we got everyone sorted out and went to service. Afterward, as we're buckling everyone in the car, someone walked over to deliver something Sophie had left behind. He told us he was glad we came and was in the process of saying how much he hoped we'd come back. Before the words came out of his mouth, Lucy looks up and simply states, "I'll be back." We weren't sure if she planned to bring us with her but we all left feeling a resounding YES from God....out of the mouths of babes you ordain praise to silence our enemies (paraphrase of Psalm 8:2).

Don't Stop...

In college, I had the opportunity to travel to Ukraine on a mission trip. One task while there was to be paired with a translator and knock on doors telling people about the VBS we'd be offering for kids. We hoped that this would spark conversations about Jesus or at the very least get kids to come each day so they could hear the message of salvation.

This was my first mission trip ever and my first time to be so far from home. It was winter in Ukraine and this Texas girl was cold and experiencing a bit of culture shock. One of the funniest realizations I had was that animals in different countries say different things (seems obvious, but it was news to me). I fell in love with the yummy chocolate bars that had air bubbles in them and was reminded of my grandmother's frugality when dinner leftovers were served for breakfast. It was an amazing week of eye-opening cultural differences, political issues, and God's provision.

And somewhere along the way, my body decided to revolt. I slipped getting out of the shower in our hotel and ended up with a sore head, knee, and ribcage. And then I got a UTI. Not only could I not call mom to get advice but cranberry juice wasn't very common in Ukraine. Sore, feeling embarrassed, and having to pee every few minutes, there I was in the snow knocking on doors hoping to show people Jesus.

All I wanted to do was go home. If I'd be in Texas, I would have. I would have told the team I wasn't up to this today and no one would have faulted me for heading home for some meds and rest. But I wasn't home, leaving wasn't a choice, and we had a mission more important than how I felt. I can't help but see a parallel lesson in motherhood.

Paul and I do not make babies who sleep. I mean, eventually they figure it out but it is just not how they are wired. So many days I want to just lay on the couch and watch shows all day long. And we have. We've had days filled with shows and snacks and pajamas and mama dozing on and off all day. And at the end of it all, the kids are going stir crazy and I still feel tired and blah. More often than not, we have days that demand action: the refluxing infant doesn't like it when I sit, the potty training toddler has to potty every 20 minutes, the two year old can't make the legos build her tower, sisters struggling to share, laundry that doesn't fold itself, grocery store lists, attitudes that need adjusting. How often do I start my day feeling defeated and just wanting to "go home" like I did in Ukraine? How often do I not want to correct a poor behavior choice, follow through on a punishment, or capitalize on a teachable moment? And how often do I want to give up because I'm tired, sore, or been head-butted one too many times by a sleeping baby or over-zealous toddler?

Our efforts that week in Ukraine went a long way to helping the local church establish relationships with the community. It went a long way in paving the way for them to continue Kingdom work. What if I had gone home? What if I had laid down instead of pushing through? What if I had been given the option to stop? I have no doubt that VBS would have continued and lives would have been touched. But, the doors I knocked on might have been missed, the people that asked me questions might not have gotten answers, and I wouldn't have had the opportunity for God's strength to shine in my weakness.

I see this daily now. I still want to lay on the couch, I still snap at my kiddos, and get frustrated at the never ending laundry. But when I remember to approach the Lord and ask for his help, I see strength fill me despite my selfish desires. I hear his lessons come out of my mouth to my kids and know my heart needs them most of all.

This is the living version of 2 Corinthians 12:9

But he said to me "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me. 

Not having an option to stop and go home can be scary but it also allows us to experience our weaknesses through a different lens: Christ!

And when I have the days filled with the wrong reactions....like the really wrong reactions....the kind where you know what you should say but you have this strange out of body experience where you see yourself losing it, screaming, being irrational and you wonder what is wrong with that nutty mom only to realize that it's you. When I have those days, where stopping is most certainly not an option, but failing most certainly is, I know God's grace is new every morning. I apologize to my kids and show them I am real, I ask God to show me himself in a very REAL way, and we keep moving forward. Oh, how I wish I wasn't God's toddler, having to heed the same lessons over and over again. But I am, and if I can keep going, it's just possible there's a kingdom purpose in the journey. 

Day 2030: Meeting Eva Charlotte

Such is life with three kids three and under. My last post was Sophie's birth story and then crickets until baby #3 is three months old. However, if I waited until I had time, it would never happen and if I did it when I was ready it wouldn't be obedience. So I'm attempting to follow where God is leading....and for the moment, that is telling the joy-filled story of our third precious daughter born a mere 2,030 days after our first date.

First, we have to start with what I affectionately call "the day there was no baby." It's a Tuesday morning and I'm 39 weeks and 4 days pregnant. I'd been having contractions every four minutes for six hours and was sure this was labor. Every "test" kept giving me the green light: took a bath, laid down to rest, stood, sat, relaxed, watched TV, ate....like clockwork, they continued every four minutes. I called family and told them it was the beginning of labor. We went to the OB and I was progressing (4cm and 70%) but not enough for admission, and my contractions were now 6-7 minutes apart. So after the non-stress test to ensure Eva was doing ok, we were sent home to walk. I went home and donned workout clothes and tennis shoes and headed out for a walk....at lunchtime, in Texas, in June. Me and my puffy hands returned a few minutes later hot, swelling, and still contracting.

And then everything stopped. As if someone had slammed on the breaks, labor just stopped. Some family was in town, my husband had taken the day off of work, we were ready to meet this precious baby and it stopped. This was my third baby...how in the world did I not know this wasn't real labor?!?! Emotions ran high as I felt guilt for pulling the fire alarm when there was no fire, I was beyond disappointed, confused, admittedly angry, and just not in a good place. While I went to the gym later to attempt to restart labor, in my heart I didn't want to be in this place mentally when she was born. The next day we got out of the house just to have something to do and let's say I was less than enjoyable to be around. My family endured a great deal on the day there was no baby...and I was still so confused.

Facebook showed me a Max Lucado quote I had posted four years ago. Before we had babies and just before we started fertility testing: "God is good. He knows what he is doing. When you can't trace his hand, trust his heart." I was immensely disappointed at not having a baby and all the while I KNEW this was the plan even though I didn't understand.

Family went home, calm returned to my home, and we still had no baby. Thursday we tried to get back to normal and a friend posted this on Facebook (which isn't always so chalked full of Truth but this week it was):

"Truth and encouragement for your Thursday--mine too! 2 Corinthians 4:16-18 'Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.'"

WOW! I had to sit and unpack that for a bit... 

• This friend had no idea I was struggling and God spoke to my heart through her. 
• "Being renewed day by day." When Sophie was born, I was DONE being pregnant and did not have a great attitude about being given the gift of carrying another baby. I carried guilt around for a while for that attitude and made a deliberate effort to remain thankful for the duration this time. How was I able to do that?! Because God renews us DAY by DAY!!  
• "Momentary troubles...achieving for us an eternal glory..." Pregnancy does not last forever. Period. 
• Focus not on the seen (temporary) but on the unseen (eternal): pregnancy is visible, the very real baby inside is unseen. Growing her is numbered and pregnancy ends, but the soul she has is eternal.

Friday I saw the OB again and I had not progressed at all. I sobbed. Like a little baby I blubbered with the midwife. She was so kind and disappointed to not have different news for me. No change. 40 weeks pregnant and no marked change. While the midwife felt confident I wouldn't need them, we scheduled appointments for 41 weeks and 41 1/2 weeks. We also set an induction date should I make it to 42 weeks. So, on with life. The girls and I went shopping with a friend and then home for naps. Another sweet friend joined us that afternoon and we went for sno-cones. I had resolved that either I would be the first woman in history to be pregnant forever (despite the aforementioned reminder to the contrary) or Eva just really wanted to be a July baby. I was clinging, grasping to the truth I knew from 2 Corinthians and still struggling with disappointment. God met me there.

 

We enjoyed take out for dinner and great conversation. Kitty left about 10:45pm. At about 11:30, as I'm getting ready for bed, I started having contractions. I was so skeptical and assumed they'd fade like the earlier ones had. Remember, I'm making history here, right?! At midnight, unable to stay upright through each one, I called the OB. I was told to call back if I hadn't gotten a phone call in 15 minutes. I laid down to wait and woke up to my phone ringing at 1am. The OB had been in surgery and wasn't able to call me back sooner. I explained how unsure I was based on the events of the week and how I didn't want to jump the gun again. She heard my contractions and very frankly said that if we wanted to come in, she was unlikely to send me home this pregnant and with my body clearly prepping for labor. We called Kitty to come back and stay with kids and arrived at the hospital just before 2am.

Dr Miller* confirmed that I was legitimately in labor and was now at 5cm and 90%. At 2:45am they were getting us admitted so we called family. Mom, Dad, sisters...no one answered. We left messages and texts and just kind of stared at one another. What are the odds that no one would pick up!?! I knew this was divine. This time was ours. Just Paul, me, and this new baby. The week leading up to this felt crazy, emotional, disappointing....and in this moment, when no one answered, no one knew, so began the beautiful undercurrent of peace and joy.

For the first time in three labors I finally grasped the real importance of breathing and doing it intentionally. I was having some intense contractions and had felt like she was ready to come for weeks so I was debating epidural or no epidural. Dr. Miller was so helpful in laying out the options and being 100% supportive of all of them. Ultimately we decided to get the epidural. My contractions were as intense as her sister's had been, albeit being managed better through breathing, but I wasn't dilating very rapidly. I got the epidural at 5am and shortly after had a brief scare of feeling nauseous and light-headed and Eva was not reacting very well to what my body was doing. It passed quickly and we were told it was very common following an epidural. I was able to get a little rest and at about 6:30am I felt a marked change in pressure and felt like I needed to push.

Dr. Miller came in and I was 100% but still at 8-9cm. We decided to have her break my water to encourage complete dilation. The epidural had definitely done its job but its effects were waning. And having pushed so little with Lucy and Sophie, having to push more while feeling it was quite a shift. It got so intense at one point that I was shouting "I can't do this!!" Dr. Miller, the nurse, and Paul were such amazing cheerleaders and encouraged me the whole time. Almost immediately after my declaration, at 7:06am, with my eyes closed, Eva was plopped on my chest. I had such a flood of emotions from the pain and sheer joy of meeting this sweet little girl! She cried briefly and then nestled in and started nursing. Her cry was definitely her own and immediately we noticed her full head of dark hair!?! She was a new flavor of Nixon for sure and absolutely perfect!

For half an hour the undercurrent of peace and joy continued to flow. Eva nursed, the nurse, Dr Miller, Paul and I sat talking and relaxing. We just sat, y'all. No one wanted to stop her from eating and we were all kind of in awe of how calm the room felt the entire time. The nurses had changed shifts just before she was born and Dr. Miller was on for another hour. It was just after 7am but a storm was rolling in so even the appearance of morning happened more gradually than normal. Time literally stopped as we took in our new, very round, daughter.

At 7:36am, we were all still sitting there letting her nurse and talking, and my phone rang. It was Mom and I answered it by saying "She's here!" We hadn't even gotten her stats yet because Eva was still dictating our actions. Once she was done nursing they cleaned her up and got her weight and length. 7lbs 1oz and 19.5inches....

Paul went home to help Kitty get the big sisters ready to meet Eva. When they arrived, it was the sweetest moment for them to take in that she was no longer in my belly. They looked a bit confused at first and then just giggled when they saw her in her bed. Lucy was so attentive when she cried and wanted to calm her down and Sophie was so gentle touching her head, face, hands...After a sweet, joy-filled, and peaceful visit the girls went home for lunch and naps. We cherished the fact that they got to meet her with just us and that we could relish in some precious time as a family of 5.

There wasn't a postpartum room available so we got to stay in the huge delivery room for most of the day. In stages family arrived and we got to introduce the newest Nixon. When we finally headed over to postpartum, I had showered, changed clothes, and was feeling good. More friends and family arrived after we settled in and our undercurrent remained: peace and joy!


We do not regret one moment of Lucy's or Sophie's births with all our family and friends waiting in the lobby to meet each respectively. We are also so thankful that God made it so evident that he was in charge of making each detail of THIS day peaceful and full of joy for Eva. Being the third baby, it is seldom quiet around her and her birth story exudes both of these qualities and had she been born Tuesday, her story would have been very different*.

Lucy was our miracle; Sophie our marvel; Eva is most definitely our JOY!

*Dr Miller delivered Sophie and we adored what she brought to the labor room. I so badly wanted her to deliver Eva but I knew she had been out on maternity leave was typically not on call on Friday. God knew the practice had changed their schedule and that she was back for a few weeks in the middle of maternity leave at just such a time. Any physician would have been able to deliver Eva and it would have been great but God gave me that deep desire to show me how much he saw me. Tuesday, it felt like he didn't, or that he had forgotten to keep labor going. What he did was take each and every detail in his hand to show me how much he loves me. No one but God could have aligned it all this wonderfully.