Week 18.

Dear Blueberry,

My immune system died. So puny.

BUT I just don’t care.

I’ve come to accept it and I’ve become a pro at nursing my illnesses.

I took 4 whole days off of work because of my viral infection and stayed in bed the entire time.

I don’t know the last time I’ve ever done that.

[Major strugglefest]

But I’m on the mend.

During my bed ridden times I researched all natural remedies and I think I’m becoming more and more hippyish by the second.

I’m learning a lot about the dangers of modern medicine and how we have a lot of healthy, natural medicines at our finger tips.

So, Im drinking Elderberry syrup like it’s going out of style to help build my immune system and curb the chance of another bug/viral infection.


On Saturday, I drug myself out of bed to attend a mandatory training class for a world church conference I am a voting delegate for. I was miserable and there was no way of hiding it. During the midst of training a very dear church family member (he married your Dad & I) came up to me and whispered something in my ear. He said he could see I was feeling awful and wanted to remind me that if I wanted to be anointed with oil and prayed for I could. This is one of our church’s sacraments and it’s something a lot of churches don’t do and I’m so glad our church upholds this holy act found in scripture. I have only ever been anointed once when I was in third grade and struggling with major health issues. I was passing out a lot in the middle of class and went through a lot of different specialists and tests to basically come back with no answers. When I look back, I think I had anxiety attacks mixed with a vitamin overdose. I took a bottle of Flinstone vitamins and ate all of them and didn’t tell anyone until years later after I saw a documentary about how a kid had done the same and suffered the same type of symptoms I did. (In my defense they tasted like candy and were shaped like Flinstone characters- yum!) ANYWAYS, I remember there being something very special about being anointed with oil and prayed for. That’s all I really remember…and the fact that I wasn’t fond of how the oil made my hair look. This time, I realized how special and holy it was to me. I don’t think it is a magical wave of a wand that is meant to make me all better. Instead, it reminded me of the deep love and care my Maker has for little ole me. It reminded me that in our weakest moments, God forces us to ask for help from others. It reminded me how good community is. It reminded me that to see God, I had to become my most vulnerable. Did that prayer heal me of my illnesses? No. It did something much bigger. It soaked my soul in holiness, hope, community, dependence, humility and restoration.

And, in a way it did make me feel “better”. I’m now strong enough to move on, even in my physical state, to love others deeper, wider and stronger. It forced me to get over it and look at a much wider perspective.

and then there’s you. you have given me the greatest joy this week. the type of joy all the moms that have gone before me have told me as I was head over toilet, throwing up and asking “what have i gotten myself into?!” “but it’s so worth it” they would smugly say. “you’ll forget about all of this when the baby is here” i would weakly nod my head and subconsciously roll my eyes because those words only tease me in the here and now of the struggle. but you, blueberry show me a glimpse that speaks much louder than their good hearted comforts. you have been busily dancing away in my tummy- wild enough that i can feel you through out the day. in odd places where i just cant wrap my mind around what’s going on inside of me while i order coffee or get a root canal. its a bizarre and wonderful sensation. like a special secret that i only know about. the kind you really want to loudly proclaim but can’t because your best friend swore you to secrecy. you twirl and twist and oddly im much more at home with the feeling than i previously thought i would be. you surprise me daily. you’re moving as i type this, connecting me to my thoughts and screen scribbles in a new way. your dad is overly jealous and anxious to feel you more than ever. so impatient, that dad of yours. bless him. as he was trying to find your heartbeat on the doppler, you surprised the both of us with your 1st big kick. with a loud “POP!” to the doppler, your dad’s eyes almost popped out of his head. he spent the better part of the night trying to recreate the moment, pressing on my belly, trying desperately to entice you to strike back. you played hard to get and he sulked back to his side of the bed, defeated. already working him. totally whipped. warms my heart so much. 

18 weeks

we then proceeded to watch unreasonable amounts of YouTube videos of babies moving around inside mama bellies. we were equally traumatized and in awe by the experience.

The music is so dramatic.


Love you.



The Glory.


Dear baby,

I have felt your pull long before you we’re actually here in my tummy. I tried ignoring it the best I could but the Pinterest boards full of baby, possible names scribbled on scrap pieces of paper and napkins, the joy I felt when I held a baby or the way I would stare a pregnant woman down were all obvious signs how much I longed for you. The times when a pregnancy scare brought me to tears when they turned negative and the false positive that brought me too my knees. All signs of you tugging gently at my seams, nudging me. When the false positive occurred during a already emotionally turbulent time in our marriage, we decided to wait a “few years” to bring you down from the heavens. I never was 100% convinced of it, but it gave me a way to move past the sadness that you weren’t and helped me focus forward.

Heaven has a way though, of lifting the veil and surprising you out of no where. It’s like a smack in the face with a handful of glory. Glory is a word that isn’t all sunshine and rainbows though. It’s more like radiant joy and striking fear immersed and soaked all together. That’s how I felt the moment I found out you were real. Radiant joy because no longer were you just a tug, but I could sense the warmth of your presence. Striking fear because now that I have you, there’s the chance I could loose you too. And if it was anything like how I felt when I found out that the false positive was indeed false, I was unsure how I could move forward from that.

I still struggle with the glory of you.

I pray the glory allows me to let go a bit of the striking fear and bathe in the radiant joy a bit more as I progress.

I feel so vulnerable right now and not at all confident. Partly, because I’m struggling with the way my body is changing and partly because of all the information I receive (voluntary and involuntary). It overwhelms me at times and causes me high anxiety. I know this sounds funny but sometimes I feel like pregnancy is almost like choosing and following a religion. There are so many methods and opinions and styles and beliefs and theology. So right now, I’m the seeker researching all the different “religions” and trying to figure out which one fits just right.

It’s so me to get caught up seeking, researching, questioning that I over stress myself without need. It’s the natural theologian coming out of me. I do this with my faith and I’m doing this with parenting. I just need to breathe and I have to remind myself to once in awhile find peace in my Makers arms. We both can rest there.

So, my darling, may we find rest in our Maker together; now, when your home is my belly and later when you are breathing this world’s air.

I loved you when you were just tugging at the seams, I love you now as you grow inside my womb and I’ll love you till forever more.