I really was going to blog this week, Angela. Really. I was all ready to talk about something this past weekend that I had been thinking about, but after reading some other blogs, I lost steam. I discovered that Crystal (Biblical Womanhood, Money Saving Mom) doesn’t have a personal blog anymore, and noticed how Shannon (Rocks In My Dryer) doesn’t blog as much as before on hers. One thought they both shared on making these decisions was that what is necessary is “simply keeping some things to ourselves”. Well- I kinda felt sheepish for even planning the post I was, and promptly busied myself at doing something other than blogging. Yes, I know- balance is key. Not everything need be said, but some things are pretty darn fun to say. Like ‘darn’. But I digress. Must be the weather.
The weather! That is what I logged on here to write about! Is it too early for northeast central Ohioans to start planting things outside? Gee, because all week we should be sporting numbers in the 50s. Yesssss. The past two days we have gotten outside to play, all of us down to A Flat, and it has been lovely. I worked on the garden boxes, pulling at weeds, this morning, while the kids played on the playground. See, this was how it was supposed to work last year- I work right next to them, so I can mediate conflicts and bark orders from time to time. Only last year, C would constantly disappear when I would even try it. He is doing so much better at his ripe old age of two (and toilet trained to boot!), mostly because he now finds whatever the other boys are doing to be perfectly brilliant, and will tag along. There was one instance this morning when I couldn’t see A Flat on the playground, and started to panic. But then I noticed her pink coat hidden by A Major on the glider, and realized that was why I didn’t see her right away. Sweet how they all help out with her. Big S changed her out of wet clothes later after she’d fallen in a puddle. I should have videotaped it- Grandma calls A Flat an octopus, and that is exactly the kind of treatment S got, trying to diaper her and pull her shirt over her head.
Back to the garden boxes- I’m thinking peas, potatoes, spinach and leaf lettuce here at this house. Looks like I can get started Easter weekend. At the new house, Gus should be yielding spears soon. You simply do not understand how thrilled I am to have a mature asparagus plant. I thought about buying a crown or two (their root bed), but even then it would be years before I would harvest. I may go light on Gus this year, too, depending on the size of the spears. I have high hopes for Rhuby and Barbie this year. Oatmeal Rhubarb Cookies, winners of my personal Rhubarb Bake-off last year, are so close I can taste them. And Strawberry-Rhubarb crisp, runner up. Even though I’ll have to buy the strawberries at Meijer because they are not in season yet, it will be something to be savored. I’ll post the recipes when the time comes.
Baby Micah appears to be doing well. We have nine weeks of school left, and are hoping not to have to cut that short. I would be very surprised if she came early, based on how good the last weeks have been going. I’m learning contentment through all of this. How to rejoice with the newlywed couple in the OB office savoring those first few ultrasound pictures, and not throw myself a pity party instead. How to remain strong while the doctors continue to watch both babies, taking measurements of both heads, both abdomens, both femurs. How to remember that I have had the awesome experience of breathing in brand new baby hair how many times? And I get to do it again.
I know how it feels to have wings on your heels,
And to fly down the street in a trance.
…
All of my memories are happy tonight,
I’ve had [many baby loves] of my own.
~from “Hello Young Lovers” by Oscar Hammerstein II
I’ve added some links to my sidebar. Tammy’s and Maggie’s blogs have been on there before at different times, but Kimi’s and Amy’s are new. Check them out!
Luke brought home an old Mac from his work for me to use, and I have found a little more time to read blogs again.
…
Not too much time, however, as I was just reminded that one cannot toilet train a toddler and type up a blog post at the same time.
Gotta go!
Last week on Ash Wednesday, I started a Lenten devotional. Neither Luke nor I could figure out how ‘they’ counted 40 days from Ash Wednesday to Easter Sunday, until I read in one of our library books on Christian festivals that ‘they’ count only weekdays up to the day before Good Friday, and do not include Sundays. Who are ‘they’, anyway? I love the Far Side cartoon that answers that question with a few people in a little room… Anyway, I have been enjoying the way the Scripture passages have been arranged quite meaningfully in this book, and look forward each morning to how God is going to speak to me anew through them.
Another journey starts today, with an exact duration of 40 days until Easter, begun by my pastor for our church body. He was inspired by the book, From The Inside Out: A Revolutionary 40-Day Fast From Wrong Thinking! by Gregory Dickow. Pastor Mike has organized for us a program of six weeks that will renew our minds in preparation for Resurrection Day. That is something we all can use, I’m sure. You can follow along with us on our 40-day fast here.
‘They’ say that there are many numbers that have special signifigance to the Lord. 40 is apparently one of them. We are praying for at least 40 more days of gestation for this little girl of ours; will you join us in this request? She appears to be happily settled in her nest, but I tell people that we won’t know if this is a normal pregnancy until it is over. And for me, a normal pregnancy is, can you guess? 40 weeks or more. 
We have reached a lull in our stormy twins experience. The rains will not likely subside until the babies are delivered, and some emotional aftermath is to be expected, too. For now, though, I actually have many days in a row that I barely think of her, while am almost constantly thinking of her. Still, there is the odd day where I run into someone in town who didn’t know, or am asked by a stranger why I am so big (“Are you sure it isn’t twins?”), or am supposed to call my insurance company and update them on my pregnancy. Then all the feelings are right there again, making it hard to breathe. It hurts, I tell Him. Lord, it hurts. I can identify a little with Ann Judson, first wife of the missionary, Adoniram, who said:
“When for a moment we realize what we once possessed…the wound opens and bleeds afresh. Yet we would still say, ‘Thy will be done.’”
I’ve found that last part especially true, and some comfort to me even today. In my conversation with Him this afternoon about my sorrow, it was as if He was saying to me, “I have something better for you. Something different.” I can’t “bleed” long when I realize that if this is the plan He has for me, it must be better. It must be perfect, as He is.
Sometimes one thing succeeds as a result of another thing’s failure. Getting all the children down to rest at one time during the day is one non-negotiable in our home, but I allow the older ones who can read to look at books during these hours. They must figure out early on that if they read the whole time, they will not have to sleep. So our youngest reader has his nest piled high with books, sometimes reading for two hours straight! This indicates that maybe I can’t take the credit directly for their love of books- it really comes from a dislike of naps. Oh well, I’m happy to admit a near defeat on this issue, if it means our kids become good readers. I’ll just keep extending naptime bit by bit…
The kids decided they would play jail in the corner of the room. Little S was the convict. A Major and Big S were, I think, maids. Let’s listen in to how things went with him…
A: Are you enjoying your stay here, sir?
S: Yes, thank you.
A: What are you in here for?
S: Speeding.
[time passes in the slammer]
SB: Sir, would you like coffee or hot cocoa?
S: How about coffee now, and cocoa later?
A: Did you enjoy your meal, sir? Is there anything else I can
get for you?
…
A: Let’s play hospital now, not jail.
Apparently they could only take so much prison cruelty.
Maybe this struck only me as funny because I need a laugh so bad these days…
Overheard at breakfast:
A: “I don’t like it when people are walking around during my prayer.”
S: “But Mama’s walking around [the kitchen].”
A: “Well, that’s Mama. You know better.”
We saw the surgeon for, hopefully, the last time yesterday. Our little dancer is doing well, and we are so grateful. I hope I can start to relax about the remainder of this pregnancy, but I am sure some nervousness will last until she is born.
Luke and I have been tossing around ideas for some way we can remember Micaiah, and to remind Micah she is a twin. I was thinking of doing something with a quilt or blanket that had both names stitched on it. Or a paving stone out in the garden that I have painted. Maybe I’ll paint Micaiah’s cute feet on it. Any suggestions? This is different than a miscarriage in many ways, and I don’t think after they are born that I will be able to recover, for lack of a better word, in quite the same way. A memorial of some sort seems in order. One thing I do know- friends and family may have a hard time ever getting a chance to hold Micah. I may never put her down. Just headed over now to shop online for shower slings…
“Let not the wise man boast of his wisdom or the strong man boast of his strength or the rich man boast of his riches, but let him who boasts boast about this: that he understands and knows me, that I am the LORD, who exercises kindness, justice and righteousness on earth, for in these I delight,” declares the LORD. Jeremiah 9: 23-24, today’s timely reading!
We had another ultrasound today with the doctor who performed the laser procedure. I’m very happy to report that this visit contained no surprises, for us, anyway. The doctor was not aware of the ultrasound we had last Wednesday, and was visibly disappointed to hear the news for the first time. Since we already knew of Micaiah’s passing, and all week Micah’s activity reassured me she was doing well, the scan was routine. Micah is over a pound now and very active, doing great. They want me to stay at rest for the next week, so please pray that my loyal superhero helpers (Luke, Carol, my mom) can hold out another few days. I really think at this point that the pregnancy will progress normally, and I will be so grateful to get back to work and get things back to normal.
I’m so glad I haven’t had to be away from the children; they are very therapeutic. Besides loving on them and spending time with them, I’m busy thinking about the things they need as far as schooling, clothing, and not the least: growing spiritually. So much is required to cultivate and lead these lives along. I need to do my part, but I am realizing the key will be how much I depend on the Lord in prayer, principally, for them.
I’ve also been thinking about how a normal pregnancy means we will likely have a garden at the new house this spring. There are so many things I want to grow; I hope we have enough space! I’ll have to brush up on Mel Bartholomew’s square-foot gardening techniques. Of course, I would trade a lifetime of vegetable-growing to have my little “two peas in a pod” again. But just like I am comforted by the work of ‘growing’ my children into who God wants them to be, it will be a balm to see those green shoots in March, to cultivate and lead those little lives along, too.
In shady, green pastures, so rich and so sweet,
God leads His dear children along;
Where the water’s cool flow bathes the weary one’s feet,
God leads His dear children along.
Some through the waters, some through the flood,
Some through the fire, but all through the blood;
Some through great sorrow, but God gives a song,
In the night season and all the day long.
~George A. Young
While growing up, I remember there occasionally being rabbit nests in our yard. One spring my dog, Sophie, brought me this little whilte ball of fluff in her teeth, maybe expecting me to begin playing fetch or some other game with it. I discovered it was a baby rabbit, and quickly went searching for its nest. When I found it, I tucked the little thing back in with its siblings, hoping that whatever Sophie did to it could be undone. The next morning from my bedroom window I could see that a little white body lay in the grass outside the nest. I went down, scooped it up into a shoebox and went across the street to ask my neighbor if anything could be done. She told me that the mother likely rejected the baby once it smelled like dog, and unfortunately this is how things go sometimes, and no, nothing could be done. I remember being angry and filled with questions- why couldn’t I have fixed this? Why couldn’t my efforts have saved a life? It bothered me for a while, but animals are only animals after all, and eventually I was able to move on with my life quite easily.
Sometime between Saturday and today, little Micaiah’s heart stopped beating. The procedure we chose to try to save the lives of both babies apparently did not help our little baby who was lacking in fluid and space. Our many supplications for the Lord to please restore and revive and sustain Micaiah were answered, only not with the answer we wished. God said no. So far, Micah is strong and active, and our hopes are that she can not only survive, but carry on in this pregnancy as a singleton birth. If my body can treat her as the only one there, she should have things pretty easy from here on. So at the same time we are grieving the loss of Micaiah, we are tentatively grateful that Micah is still with us. Having one survive the procedure was one of the three outcomes explained to us, each with the same probability- 33%. I should be happy that we did not have the other outcome we had a third of a chance of happening- losing both babies. But I still have the thought- the Lord is above probabilities. He is not limited by how slim a chance a baby has at life. He can do anything. I am older now than I was when I found and could not help that baby rabbit, but the questions remain, and come with even more intensity. So why didn’t He fix this? Why couldn’t the efforts of the surgeon and his team have saved this life? I loved them both the moment I saw their little clouds on the ultrasound in September. It is going to hurt to not be able to wrap my arms around them both. But to have one to hold is more comfort than I could hope. Thank You, Lord, for this loss. Thank You, Lord, for this gain. Thank You for the reminder that You, and no one else, are in control. Teach me how to be okay with the fact that just as You give, You also take away.
Bless the LORD, O my soul, and all that is within me bless His holy name.