I need a basin to catch all my tears. But I guess my protruding belly will do.
I've stated on my space before that the emotions surrounding the upcoming delivery of our second born son are many, various, complex, BIG. Today marks 39 weeks of pregnancy, life in the womb for that little brother man and I can't believe it. How is Sage-man over 4 months? How are we halfway through May? How am I nearing my delivery and meeting that precious bundle of raw flesh? Most women with the blood clotting disorders are induced at 39 weeks. Today. Today I would have been induced. Today I would have met our second born son. My goodness isn't that weird?
But we chose not to venture down that route. We are choosing and hoping to spontaneously spring into labor. So though I am 39 weeks today, it could be another 21 days.
On one hand, it would be nice to be able to pick things up off of the floor without having to gear up, squat, and grunt. It would be nice to not roll out of bed or ask Loren to push me up. It would be nice to move without having lightning shooting down my pelvic area. It would be nice to not pee every 15 minutes, to feel like my back is going to cave in, to have movable joints. It would be nice to not throw up while holding my 4 month son. But with every complaint I am met straight on with the immense miracle and blessing of carrying a baby full term. And it shuts my complaints up. I will take these aches, pains, and discomforts if it means a heart beats within me that is not my own.
It will be a melting-of-hearts moment when they meet, flesh to flesh, and when we get to go on family-of-four walks together. It will be beyond a miracle to see our DNA wrapped up and entangled into one human, and what the outcome is. Probably a little squished at first, bald and mega white, but then cuter as the days and months roll on.
On the other hand, I have loved being pregnant. I love the gift of a tiny human growing inside, swelling me round, pushing my belly button out. I love feeling him move around and telling me he is there. I love hearing his heart beat. I love talking to him. I love telling Sage Man that he is sitting on his Little Brother. I love dreaming of names and having a built in ledge for Sage. I love when Sage puts his little hand on my tummy while his Little Brother man is moving around and I just know in my soul that they are bonding.
And then there is the actual labor and delivery. The laboring and breathing through contractions. The pushing out of an actual human. The feeling his bloody messy flesh on mine. The hearing him scream. The knowing that we made it, me and him, we made it from the moment he was conceived until "now" and we will keep making it. The experience of the immense relief that follows him exiting my body, the oxytocin soaring...and then the reality of what Sage's First Mom experienced...only to hand him over to my mama arms. The tears are falling as I type that. The reality of her sacrifice. Of her selflessness. Of the love she has that I can only dream of encompassing.
Oh my heart is full of emotions.
And it is full of prayers.
I so desperately want these boys to know how deeply loved they are by us, but even more so by Jesus. I pray we raise them knowing Him in a very real, tangible way. I hope they live scandalous lives, that scream Jesus. The real Jesus. Jesus who sat with lepers and sought out filthy, dirty, bottom-rung humans. Jesus who saw [and sees] worth and value in every. single. human. Even the humans who stand on street corners. Even the humans who are trapped in the prison of addiction. Even me and even you and even every single human.
My constant prayer for these boys, our boys (it still blows my mind that I get to say that), is much like the prayer we left our youth ministry students with: that they would be kind, that they would have courage to be exactly who they are, and that they would love Jesus. My mama heart prays we teach them what true community is, breaking bread and sharing what we have with one another. Even if that is as simple as toilet paper. My mama heart prays that they would grow being brave, fearless, not paranoid or worrying while in the dark or the valley; that they would adventure and have courage.
I don't know how to raise brave, kind humans. But I think raising brave, kind humans that see others, I mean really see others, has a lot to do with us being brave and kind, and really seeing others. Meeting others right where they are at and going to scary places with them: their very own hearts. Hearts can be scary places, but in sharing our hearts we are sharing pieces of our selves and that is real relationship. It is in allowing others to venture through the broken and fragile parts of our hearts that true friendship is born. Community is built.
Being in a new city and a new church means Loren and I have to start over with this whole building community thing...and for these boys, we will do that. We will fight our desire and tendency to become hermits and we will once again learn what it means to live in community. Even if with just a few other families, we believe Jesus is in true community and it is in true community that we find strength and grace to keep loving, keep seeking, keep going. Especially when the going gets tough and painful and hard. [Just give us a couple months to adjust to going from a family of 2 to 4 in less than six months and not all at once].
Oh my mama heart has a lot of prayers. But they are real and they are honest and they are deeply rooted.
Jesus, I need you.