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The Time of Zwischen. (12)

In English, the German word zwischen translates to “between.” Midwife Jana Studelska wrote about the time of zwischen in reference to “the time of in between, where the opening begins” in pregnancy. As she puts it, “Giving it a name gives it dimension, an experience closer to wonder than endurance.” I absolutely loved her explanation of this time before a mama goes into labor and brings forth her baby–reading it today made me feel seen, normal, understood.

This is definitely a time of in between for me, and while familiar, it’s been distinctly different and set apart in its own ways from the times I’ve experienced before. Every baby has his or her own way of entering the world. Just as in labor and birth, I’m sure no two in between times are exactly alike. This makes me think about all of the details that God attends to in order to see His creation come forward…”Before I formed you in the womb, I knew you. Before you were born, I set you apart.” (Jeremiah 1.5) Even in the smallest moments, the plans God has for each one of us are purposeful and personalized.

Studelska describes the time of zwischen as a space of discomfort and tension, vulnerability and openness–something both biological and spiritual. It is a place where an expectant mother is “not going into battle, but she is going to the edge of her being where every resource she has will be called on to assist in this journey.” I feel this through and through right now, and it’s so lovely to read someone else’s words to put to this time that’s hard to articulate. I love her intention to give expectant mamas “permission to follow the instinctual gravitational pulls that are at work within them, just as real and necessary as labor.” This sentiment feels so astute and healthy and good.

In this time of waiting for me, I feel every bit of the middle ground between this season of life and the next. Changes are coming, and really, happening so tangibly all around me though they might not be obvious to everyone else. They shouldn’t be. It would be strange to share all of the feelings I’m having even if they were plain as day apparent. Instead, there’s some kind of balance between sharing to be understood, feeling misunderstood, knowing other mamas remember, too, and can recall their own times of in between, and knowing no one else can be exactly in this space with me. It’s welcoming as I look to God for His help and presence now, and lonely as I attempt to wander somehow present through these days where I feel like I’m in my own little world with this babe.

The time of zwischen. It’s tender and necessary, beautiful and delicate, in the world, but in ways, not of it. Years from now, I hope I’ll remember what this feels like and be mindful of the in between for other mamas who are in their own betweens and waiting. It’s a sacred, tender time I think we’re meant to embrace and walk through as graciously as we can, while offering ourselves all of the kindnesses we’re able in the process.

Zwischen,

MM

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Tired Mama, Quiet House. (21)

Oh, Baby. Where do these days go? The wait to get to you feels like it’s been so long, but then each 24 hours flies by somehow and I’m back here, sitting on the couch, wondering what to say to you next. Today was a full day, beginning with appointments for you (us) at 8:30a. I’ll never tire of hearing your heartbeat, little one, which is great because today my non-stress test took twice as long as last week’s. You were just cozy in there and not giving them the kicks they wanted to see. I assured them you were mobile, but they need visible proof, so we hung out for a while and listened to the sweet rhythm of your heart, beating steadily next to me and tucked inside at the same time.

From there (and after second breakfast), we scooped up your siblings and headed out to go blueberry picking, to attend the last swim lessons of the summer, and to shop for school supplies. It was a little bit of a marathon, but we did it, and the fact that it was in the mid-70ºs and not hotter was a boon to our efforts. Even so, by the time we were done with all of the errands, everyone was spent. It felt like there was one good option as a way to wind down the evening–pizza at the beach.

We haven’t been out to the beach near as much as I’d like this summer, especially when it’s such a grounding place for everyone. We hadn’t ordered pizza in ages, either, so it seemed like a winning idea all around. Sadly, our pizza took two hours to be ready downtown, and we got to the beach for “dinner” at 8:00p. What we lacked in playtime in the sand we at least made up for in getting to watch the sun emerge from a hazy sky and sink down below the water’s edge. There’s never a sunset that can’t put a cap on a day in just the right way. Whenever you need things set right in your world, little one, I’ll take you to the beach so we can work the wrinkles out. There were some sad hearts tonight about not being able to fill up buckets of water and build a sandcastle of dreams, but I didn’t really think late pizza and a rainbow sunset were a bad way to wind down the day. All in all, we made it through a full Friday with spirits generally intact, and we also made it to 37 weeks. Great job, little one!

Tonight I’m feeling pretty worn out, and it’s late, so that makes sense. Everyone else has long gone to bed, but as usual, I’m up thinking through things I still need to do or procure or make a priority for the weekend. I’m so glad we’re headed into another few weekend days, which are all bonus days to me right now. It’s not that I expected you to come super early, but I’m just grateful for the time we do have to keep plugging away. Things are about to change in a big way and everyone feels it and knows it.

Tomorrow your big sister and I are off to some girly errands in the morning. After that, who knows what the day holds exactly? Probably just the guarantee that there will be some kind of pounding new nails into walls for hanging pictures, undoubtedly laundry, and likely some time out in the glorious weather, maybe sitting, maybe weeding and the like. No matter. It will get here when it gets here and we’ll hope to be ready for it. One day further into the calendar and one day closer to you.

Love you so, little honeybee. You are as sweet as can be in my belly and we’re all eager to know you out here, too.

Mama

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Standing in the Gap. (23)

I had a conversation today about parenting and all of the things I’m feeling right now as I try to parent well in the midst of pregnancy at this stage. It’s easy to notice where I feel I’m lacking, not just because my capacity is more limited, but because my inner critic is frequently loud and likes to speak up about so many of the things I could do better. As we get closer to baby, I’m able to give myself plenty more grace in some areas, but I still put a lot of pressure on myself, too. The healthy perfectionist is always trying to work towards a balance of these two realities, because the pressure can be good and helpful sometimes and destructive elsewhere.

At any rate, I was sharing how I feel like I’m lacking in my capacity as a mom lately, and how I know our kiddos feel the change and have their own feelings about all that’s taking shape around them. Mom is full with baby. Mom is more tired. Mom asks for more help. Mom says no to things that have previously been a yes. Those are hard shifts when you’re 4, 7.5 and 10, and I see it all for them and am calculating the cost. At the same time that it feels like a lot for kids to weather at once, it’s part of this process. Everyone making sacrifices for the sake of the whole family feels right and necessary. Still, I’d love to be capable of more than I am.

In my conversation earlier, I was reminded that in parenting, a really great, intentional parent will still fall short of what Jesus has to offer our children. While the gap between Christ and a negligent parent is significant, the gap between a great parent and Christ is (maybe smaller but) still there, because we can never be all that our children need (and we shouldn’t try). In our humanness, we can’t fill the space that only Jesus is able to take up. Not only is it ok that this is true, but it’s a saving grace to us, too.

When we pray for our children, the power of Christ, the presence of the Holy Spirit, and the love of the Father go before and behind our families. Where we can’t fill our own gaps and misgivings, God is able–and more than willing–to mend, heal, bind up, restore and resurrect what’s broken or missing. Isn’t that the best news of the day?! Being reminded that Christ will step into the space I can’t isn’t just consoling–it’s so hopeful. Our kiddos are way better off in Jesus’s care than mine any day of the week. So then, how much more impactful is a life of intentional parenting coupled with fervent requests to God for help on this journey? When I pray over our kiddos, it’s often for things in the immediate and for aspects of life down the road that feel obvious…protection, health, guidance, future spouses, a sense of who they are in Christ, the silencing of the enemy in their hearts and minds. But then, I hope to add more of this (and I’m borrowing/modifying words from another friend here, too): “Christ, be their parent in all of the ways that I couldn’t.”

Goodness. Even just typing that is relieving, because I know He has our children in His hands, that He loves them more than I could know, and that He desires to honor every request that is pleasing to Him. God’s care for our children–especially in moments when I don’t feel I can provide the level of nurturing that I’d like to myself, is far better than what I can offer on my best day. They are cared for immeasurably, no matter what.

I’ll never hope to fall short in my calling and duties as a parent, but I know it’s impossible that I’d get it all right. As with so many other things, I make mistakes in this area of life every day. The reality of Christ, waiting to meet our children where they need, when they need it, is so comforting and reassuring. Even in the areas where our kiddos will grow up and likely be able to recall some of the hard parts of life with their mom and dad, Christ will be waiting there to heal what needs healing, to restore anything that’s been broken, and to carry them forward into the life He has waiting for them. It doesn’t get much more beautiful than that. His redemption is the only redemption we could ever need…and the kids will be alright. 😉

MM

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Heartbeats and Ultrasounds. (27)

Dear Baby,

All along now, I’ve done the same thing I did when I was pregnant with your brothers and sister. I’ve tried to keep everything as simple as possible where tests and medicines and doctors are concerned, and I’ve prayed a lot, trusting God with as much as I have in me to know that He has you. He does have you, always has and always will. Sometimes as your mama I forget how little I control because of how much I want to know you here–there is a deep, deep longing in my heart to see your face and learn your personality and add you to our family earth side. I think that will make sense to you one day, or at least, I hope it will. Meanwhile, God is taking care of all of the details, not me. I can do my best to grow you well and to be a safe and healthy environment for you for these weeks and months, but I can’t change however many days God has ordained for you here in the world. I just pray that they are many, and that His plans for you are great.

Yesterday in our non-stress test, I listened to your heartbeat galloping along, “like a white noise machine,” as your brother H said. It’s true that the rhythmic, peaceful pattern of your heart was like an invitation to fall in sync with you, even if we already are in sync together. As I waited there, I sat in awe of how God has kept your precious heart beating for at least the past 31 weeks…all inside my belly, all on its own, created by Him and orchestrated by Him without any need for my intervention. How anyone could not marvel at this arrangement will always be a great and heartbreaking mystery to me. The Creator of the Universe sustains you, sustains me. The invitation to participate in this process is so humbling, I never have the right words to describe how it feels.

Tonight I was in my office watering plants and putting a few things away when I saw the stack of ultrasound pictures from the three ultrasounds we’ve had with you. I’ve avoided the rest, but these three scans were fairly important, so we have pictures to look at of you from each of those memorable days. This last time was four weeks ago, and unbeknownst to me, the ultrasound tech decided to turn on the 3D ultrasound just briefly. I was really hesitant to have her do that, but then she found the outline of your face…your features…your little filled out cheeks and tiny lip pout, and I was overwhelmed with who you already are and how you remind me of your siblings but still look just like you. Of course, seeing you for a moment on an ultrasound pales in comparison to the day we’ll meet you face to face, but my heart needed that little encouragement that day and I didn’t even know it. To see just a little bit more of who you are was a gift, and it makes me all the more excited to get to know you when you arrive in just a few weeks.

Everyone here is eager to meet you. I still can’t visualize how everything might go on the day you decide to declare your birthday, but I can absolutely picture the moment we bring you through the front door to meet your brothers and sister. It all feels like a dream now, and it probably will on that day, too. But the closer we get, the more enthralled I am with the idea of it all (even though I’ve not needed anyone to convince me that you’re supposed to be here :). It’s just…the nearest we’ve been to this reality, and I’m feeling all of the feelings about that fact.

You’re 36 weeks along in there, little one, and I’m not even sure if “little one” feels accurate at this stage. Only you’re this precious tiny babe who will come out and make a giant impression in a matter of a moment, and that’s a lot to take in and just the most beautiful reality.

We are waiting for you here, and while there will always be more projects and things I’d like to do, we’ll be ready when you are–however that needs to be. Keep growing inside a little longer, ok? I’ll try to be patient and maybe we can be patient together.

Love you so, little Honeybee,

Mama

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Writing the Story. (30)

All this time, I’ve been in what feels like the middle of a story. Living in the midst of my thought life, my spiritual life and my real, everyday life through these months of my seventh pregnancy, I have tried to look towards the future and can only see tiny snippets of what is to come. It’s been hard to let my heart go to the most hopeful place every time, though I’ve worked to lean into that as much as I can. It’s something, to be hopeful in a way that pushes down fear and presses out doubt. And I’ve tasted it, but not always, and not every day. Some are hard fought, while others come with a peace that only God can offer me.

As the days count down to August and baby, I am coming more and more to terms with this reality being what’s actually true. I didn’t think about the details of the day getting closer because I couldn’t. I could trust God past what I could see, and He’s done that work in me, but I couldn’t get all the way to August 20th or anything that comes after, not really. I’m starting to, and still it’s not without reservation. I’ve had all the conversations with myself time and time again–reminded myself of what I’ve heard God say, replayed what I know about who He is, come across scripture on the exact right days, always being nudged that what His Word says is true. I believe it. And the human part of me has still had to stretch to trust and believe that a gift this good could come our way and actually arrive. God gives good gifts, and I know this deeply. So what is changing in me?

Today, as I was driving, I realized that my letting go of so many of the details might not be my inability to trust in them or believe them. It’s that I actually do believe that God is who He says He is and that He’ll do what He says He will do. Does it feel vulnerable to believe this sometimes? 100% yes. And is it still worth it? More than I’ll probably ever understand. It feels risky to take God at his word, which almost feels foolish to even say. But if I walk into August believing and trusting what I’ve heard from God, then I’m also open to disappointment, or maybe even heartache, right? And He’s still sovereign in every detail.

A little whisper crossed my path today and planted the thought that I’m not actually walking in the middle of this story. I’m at the very beginning. We are about to meet this person who has grown inside of me since November. We’re about to break through the narrow space between womb and world, and to know–to actually know–this person who God created to be here for such a time as this. Beyond that, I’m about to get to mother this tiny human who matters even more to God than they do to me. That feels unfathomable, after all of these weeks and months praying and hoping and holding my breath sometimes, but it’s true. I’m at the beginning of this story. We’re just getting started on a journey God planned for us long ago. How could I not be amazed by this reality?

To trust that the day will come is a bigger step for me, even still, than I ever wanted it to be. There have been many days where I’ve just had to relinquish all of the details to God and set them down entirely, because I can’t go there, and if I do, it just feels messy and hard. But that’s the beauty in this. Things will keep going along as God intends whether I’ve overthought every facet of this life change or not. To not be in any kind of control is actually so freeing I can hardly grasp it. I don’t control this, and I never did. Doesn’t that make the story so much better? I get to be in it and to watch it unfold, but it’s out of my hands on so many levels. The details of that day to come are known to God, and nothing will surprise Him.

People ask me often now how much longer until baby, and I always give a ballpark answer, because I know the date on the calendar is just a date. But it’s also because I’m trusting my intuition that I have a sense about this baby and their arrival. I know what I’d like the answer to be, and I know that it’s not my decision to make. God knows this baby’s birthday. He knows the time of day that my labor begins. He knows who is there and who delivers this life and whether or not we welcome a boy or a girl. He knows how long it all takes, how I heal, what the moment looks like when we bring baby home from the hospital to meet siblings. He is the author of this story, and while He’s been writing my life for a long time now, this is a new volume He’s kept waiting for the exact right moment. It’s like waiting until Christmas morning, only better, because His gifts are the purest kind.

I’m so humbled to have a part in this story at all. I don’t think I know how to feel about that right now besides fortunate, and that’s a healthy place to rest. There are many details stirring in my mind, and while it’s ok to think about them, I can also let them go. He has this. He has me. And He has this tiny baby right close…closer than my belly, closer than a due date, closer than I’ll ever actually know.

Peace and rest for all hearts tonight, dear friends. He’s writing your story, too.

MM