Every day my fingers long to be graced by the soft tiles of my key board. My heart constantly feels like it is going to burst if I do not put thoughts, prayers, experiences to paper...or screen. I have not been able to do either - blog or journal - with all of the doctor's appointments, family gatherings, birthdays, and lovely visits we have. Since the day we got back from Utah, we have not had a single day to just be. There is always either an appointment or a visitor or a shower or work. Good things. Important things. Lovely things. But I am becoming tired. Loren and I often talk about our time in Utah as a family, our first two weeks with the sweetest little boy. We reminisce on the quiet, the skin to skin time, the bonding and attachment, the togetherness of it all.
Now when I have the "free" hour or two with our precious Sage strapped into the wrap, when the laundry is already going and the dishes are washed and the errands have attempted to be run and I feel I have a moment to open up the device that is my computer...I have to choose whether or not I am going to spend it on my blog, which is all my heart wants to do, or spend it writing for the two websites I am employed by. I almost always go with the latter, because, well, bills and food are a thing. But the longing and the craving to share and to write from the depths of my soul only intensifies the longer I put it off.
So here I am, at Randall's Children's Hospital in Portland, sitting next to a large window showcasing the big city's beautiful lights. It is after midnight and I have not slept more than 1 hour increments (maybe 3 separate times?) since being admitted here Monday. They don't let you co-sleep and Sage doesn't do well quite yet in a crib all alone across the room, so I am either standing there holding his binky in place so he can rest, or I am sitting up in the chair staring at the wall while my eyes slowly blink, ready to be alert every few hours when the nurse comes in. Tummy Baby is moving all of the time, confused about when it is time for him to sleep. Poor little dude. He is already getting a taste of the younger-sibling-syndrome. I am beat tired and as I was sitting in the chair with the sweetest little boy on my chest, I could not stop staring at my computer thinking, "I could write just one small blog post." [Let's watch it not be small because I am too wordy all the times].
This post has nothing too awesome inside of it. It matters to no one, except my very soul that needed to share. It isn't a blog post I will be tweeting or instagramming about. It's just me needing to do me. Write. Sometimes we just need to do what we need to do, despite the tiredness.
Sage is great, by the way. We went in for our normal weekly weight check on Monday and he hadn't been gaining much still so our pediatrician admitted us to have him thoroughly looked at to ensure there isn't an underlying reason. There are some other things going on in his precious little self and she thought they were reason enough to get him all assessed. He has been poked and prodded and scanned and all the things. Turns out he has the worst spit-up-reflux these specialists have seen and needs a special bottle to eat out of; he went from eating 1 ounce an hour to eating 4 in one hour and we have been celebrating the beauty of him eating so much. He gained 30 grams yesterday and that was HUGE. Here we come, chunkiness, watch out.
From the moment our pediatrician mentioned admitting us to the hospital, I had zero stress or worries about it. She mentioned things like seizures and heart issues and other big things that could easily have caused us to worry and freak out and stress up the waheezee. But I could not stop thinking about Sage's sweet story. The authorship of God and how we have the honor of being a family for Sage. Anytime a doctor or nurse or social worker would ask us how we are doing with all of these tests on our tiny newborn son, I would state with a smile and confidence that we were fine. Truly. Freely. It is this lovely thing, knowing so certainly that God ordained Sage to be in our family; it means that I can know without a doubt that whatever comes our way, God has and will equip us for it. God has knit us together as a family for a reason, and that was no accident. Not once have I ever thought, "what have we done." Oh heavens, this was the best life-altering-decision we have made in our marriage. Daily I thank Jesus for this boy I have the honor of calling "my son." Daily I rejoice that his first family, his birth mama, chose us and trusts us and loves us and loves him so fully. Daily I pray for this little man, that I would know how to be his mama and I would be a blessing to his life. Daily the confidence that God is with me exists.
Apparently I am 28 weeks pregnant. That's what the calendar and app says. They say I entered the third trimester today, but I am in some weird sort of denial. Mainly because I have felt so incredibly blessed to be growing a life within my womb, that I love being pregnant. Pregnancy is such a miracle, I can't even understand it. I was throwing up until week 20 and have been nauseous every day since September 19th. I have to give myself lovely injections in the stomach that make me bruise and to be honest, I was crying the other night because I couldn't find a spot that didn't hurt. My feet are falling apart and my hips burn and I am so tired. People keep saying I have energy and I so desperately want them to know that energy and joy are two different things. I do not have energy. But I love being pregnant. Being pregnant to me is so beautiful and so undeserved and so...miraculous. I can't wrap my head around the fact that I am almost done with this pregnancy; that in 12-14 weeks, we will bring another little boy into our family, God willing. Another little boy. Two little precious bundles of life. Two little humans to feed and burp and rock and change and do laundry for. Oh my heart be still.
You can find those cute matching knot-hat and leggings at Hazel & Holly's shop - I promise, she isn't paying me to say this. She is a friend, a fellow adoptive mama, and she works hard to fund their adoptions by selling amazing baby and toddler clothes/accessories.
Yesterday (well technically 2 days ago) was March 1. It was one year since saying goodbye to our so wanted and so precious BB. He paved a way for Tummy Baby. And for Sage, really. He pushed us, challenged us, grew us, deepened our hearts.
While in the hospital today, an older nurse came in to hear more about Sage's amazing adoption story and the way the world wrapped themselves around us and supported us and helped us bring him home. On her way out she said to me, "Girl, you've got to share this story. You've got to write a book. It's time to share your story. Write." Because I am tired and hormonal and already feel all the feels, I teared up and said, "If only you knew how much I love to write." Her response was, "Receive it and write. Glory and hallelujah, you will write a book and you will share of God's undeniable faithfulness."
So. If I ever am able to write for the websites to make money and blog consistently, I hope to also begin sifting through the book I started and take it an entirely new route. Who knows if it will ever go anywhere besides the files of my computer, but my soul needs to write. No one has really asked me to, but I am going to do it anyways.
We gotta do us. God made us and gave us desires and longings and things we love... He gave us the desire to grow our family through adoption and biologically; though He did not have to, He has blessed us with both routes in one year. He gave me the desire to write, so by george, I am going to write. What did He give you, friend? What desire and longing? What gets you moving and your soul dancing? You gotta do you. You gotta run your race. We need you to.
We need you to do you.
PS. I normally go through and re-read my posts like 3-5 times before hitting publish. Well this one is going straight to the world because it is nearly 1 am and I am tired. My apologies for weird sentences that don't make sense and words that are misspelled. Cheers. <3