5 months

Today marks 20 weeks pregnant with our son. I'm halfway there!

To be honest, though, this has been the roughest month of pregnancy for me. I've experienced more physical discomfort, pain, exhaustion, stretching, and nauseous that my first 4 months combined. Vomit, gas, indigestion, utter exhaustion, and physical depletion have all been a major part of this past month of pregnancy. It may have some to do with 2 weeks of holiday traveling, my belly growing, caring for 2 toddlers, and a few very emotionally exhausting work weeks, but I'm desperately praying this isn't a trend for the remainder of my pregnancy. The past couple weeks have involved a LOT of tears, Tums, careful eating, desperate prayers, silent fears. If you need further proof that we are less-than-perfect, the Christmas tree wast just taken down 4 days ago and is still sitting in our living room in it's box.

REDEMPTION. Instead of working a satisfying and FULL work day today at my church, I spent the day in bed. I woke up and knew I wasn't feeling ok. But I pulled myself out of bed, took a shower, starting putting on makeup, and then sent a text to our [male] lead pastor and [male] co-worker that I was feeling awful and needed prayer. The next 5 minutes of text exchanges lead me to literally weeping in my bathroom: "rest with joy", "we are a team", "we got your back", "take care of yourself and baby". While wiping away hormonal tears to read the texts, I realized the tears were both present and historic.

Present because THIS has been the worst week of pregnancy. I've felt terrible most of the week and by yesterday felt utterly discouraged at the feat of carrying my son for another 20 weeks. I've tried to tough it out this week - at work and at home - while still quietly attending to my body and baby. It's left me exhausted.

But my tears also opened up a historic wound and fear in my leadership journey. Since the early days of ministry, I've been afraid - rightfully and imagined - that my being feminine would eventually place a ceiling on my influence. I felt that most acutely as a mother. So, too often I've erred on the side of not crying on the job, faking feminine pain, speaking like a man when my feminine voice is more needed, not talking about my infertility or kids' latest accomplishments, etc.

However, being on staff at Newsong for nearly the past 8 years has been very healing and freeing for me. Our mostly-male leadership has affirmed, blessed, promoted, and stood by me in the most unlikely times - like this morning. Receiving texts like these this morning - when all I wanted to do is suck in my protruding belly, push through the yuckiness, and pretend to be Super Momma-Pastor - they didn't let me. They didn't ask invasive questions or challenge my plea for prayer. They didn't ask if I thought I could still fulfill my significant responsibilities today or ask that I find replacements. They simply blessed me and prayed for me. My risk to be vulnerable was monumentally healing for me and, I believe, restoring for the community I lead in.

LIMITS. If there's just one lesson to be learned in pregnancy for me, it's accepting my limits. Today was a clear example but there's been a hundred over the past few months. Some close friends gently, firmly, and compassionately chastised me a couple weeks ago that though the demands of my job and motherhood are evident these days, there is nothing more important than caring for the little man growing inside of me. I only get 1 shot to be pregnant, only 9 months to set him on a developmental trajectory that will impact the rest of his life, only one shot to "enjoy" these 9 months. It was a reset of my limits and priorities that I think about every day. Though I may not be able to work 12-hour days anymore or throw my babies up in the air, I must care for this little being consuming my womb and every conscious moment. I'm the ONLY one who can do this job.

As for a picture of my belly, here's a picture I took a couple days ago from our HORRENDOUS women's restrooms at work. The background is an atrocity and it's a self-portrait into a mirror, but at least it captures nearly 20 weeks en utero for our son.

I have to say, maternity pants are the BEST! So comfy and no zippers and buttons to deal with when going to the bathroom. BONUS!

NAMES. Also, on a very random note, we have no idea what to name our son. We have a few names in the queue but no glorious moment affirmed by singing angels. Again, naming Judah and Addise was borderline divine and simple. For this baby, we had the PERFECT first AND middle name selected. I even have back-up girl names. But to name this boy feels impossible. I've resorted at this point to reading movie credit names and listening into stranger's conversations for tips. Our major problem is the 1) we want a creative and somewhat unique name, like J&A, and 2) it must be highly meaningful and somewhat prophetic for our son's life. That eliminates about one million names. And once you start looking for names for YOUR child, you realize how many names you hate.


Again, if you have any suggestions on where to look for names let me know. And you'll get bonus points if you can direct me to a place where I can search for names by meaning [ex: names that mean "restore" are...].

Thanks for hanging with me in the sob story of today. And for praying. I know it changes things, especially me.

Blessing Baby

A couple weeks ago, shortly after announcing Baby #3's life within me, I walked into a group of about 20 high school students praying passionately. They were declaring their identity in Christ, praying for courage, praying for blessing, praying for more of God. It was every youth pastor's dream.

They stopped praying for a moment, saw me sitting in the back, cheered congratulations for our baby, and asked me to pray. In the moment, all I wanted is for them to pray for me, our family, this baby.

For the next 10-15 minutes these students, whom I've known, loved, and poured into for years, prayed over this baby, our family, and my pregnancy. To say it was moving would be an understatement. Many of these students laid hands on me and passionately prayed all kinds of blessing and prophetic prayers into our family. As one of the students was praying, he announced that this was a Blessing Baby, our baby is a blessing and is to be a blessing. Speechless. I was and am so deeply grateful for every heartfelt prayer submitted before God on our behalf.

At the end of their prayers, their leader spoke this pasage over our family. I couldn't help but think this was exactly what we needed to hear about this unexpected pregnancy...

Isaiah 55:8-13 [The Message]

"I don't think the way you think.
   The way you work isn't the way I work."
"For as the sky soars high above earth,
   so the way I work surpasses the way you work,
   and the way I think is beyond the way you think.
Just as rain and snow descend from the skies
   and don't go back until they've watered the earth,
Doing their work of making things grow and blossom,
   producing seed for farmers and food for the hungry,
So will the words that come out of my mouth
   not come back empty-handed.
They'll do the work I sent them to do,
   they'll complete the assignment I gave them.
 "So you'll go out in joy,
   you'll be led into a whole and complete life.
The mountains and hills will lead the parade,
   bursting with song.
All the trees of the forest will join the procession,
   exuberant with applause.
No more thistles, but giant sequoias,
   no more thornbushes, but stately pines—
Monuments to me, to God,
   living and lasting evidence of God."

 Out of the mouths of babes, WISDOM speaks.

Mommy Needs...

The scene was my kitchen table and living room. The date was a random Friday a couple weeks ago. Brian went for a long run then a Costco run. I was home with my kids on my Sabbath...working.

My days are out of control recently. I'm working way too much. Way. It's a unique season of ministry where I've finished most days with a list of "to dos" longer than when I've started the day. Every single day has dealt with painful emails, difficult conversations, disappointed followers, misunderstood decisions, and awkward transitions. Literally, every single day. It's a season I hope to leave sooner than later. Tears have defiantly fallen more often than I'd like. I've been hanging on by a thread while passionately casting a vision of a new thing I believe God's calling our community toward [Isaiah 43:18-19]. Most days I feel a complicated tension of intense conviction and a weary beat down.

My prayer life has taken on a life of its own! My prayers have been desperate. Wholly hopeful. Deeply convicted. Sometimes demanding. Always honest. Never defeated.

Back to the scene in my kitchen/living room. I was desperately trying to catch up on a litany of emails and ever-urgent "to dos", instead of playing with my kids on the floor. Ugh. As I'm sitting at my computer doing all kinds of pastoral and "spiritual" things I found myself turning my head over my shoulder every 5-7 minutes yelling at my toddlers. Addise, don't hit Judah! Judah, stop jumping on the couch!! Addise, you know you're not supposed to drink Judah's water!!! Judah, if you do that one more time you get a hand-slap!!!! At one moment I'm spiritually leading people virtually and the next minute I'm about to go postal on my kids. All the while, I'm having a very "Paul" moment:

I don’t really understand myself, for I want to do what is right, but I don’t do it. Instead, I do what I hate. But if I know that what I am doing is wrong, this shows that I agree that the law is good. So I am not the one doing wrong; it is sin living in me that does it. And I know that nothing good lives in me, that is, in my sinful nature. I want to do what is right, but I can’t. I want to do what is good, but I don’t. I don’t want to do what is wrong, but I do it anyway. But if I do what I don’t want to do, I am not really the one doing wrong; it is sin living in me that does it. [Romans 7]

Brian got home before I did something really bad and asked how I was. I erupted, "I'm about to have a serious meltdown in every way." True to form, Brian calmly responded a few minutes later. "I'm going to tell you what you're going to do and you're not going to argue. You're going to take a shower [NOTE: this was because it'd probably been 2.5 days] and then you're going to leave and not come back until later tonight. You can go to the mall. You can do whatever you want, but you need to go." I choked back tears and ran off to the shower. During my shower my mind raced with how I was going to make the best use of my 5 hours alone. Errands needed to be run. Returns made. Groceries picked up. Gift cards used. Personal tasks completed. But I kept coming back to REST. I needed rest.

After my shower, Brian came back to our room and said, "I have another idea. You know that place we got massages [$20 for an hour!!!]? Go there." I started crying again and said I also thought of going to see a movie alone. His Puerto Rican eyes got really big. I've never done that. Ever. I always thought that excursion was for weirdos [though Brian adores movies alone]. But I was craving sitting in an air conditioned theater with no one asking me for anything, touching me, expressing their disappointment in my actions. My heart needed to be massaged by God, as much as my aching muscles.

That afternoon was hard for me just to receive the grace of time and let go. But my soul demanded it. I've been meditating on the passage where Jesus beckons his disciples to answer this question: "what's the benefit if you gain the whole world and lose your souls?" I will not lose my soul.

Though I'm a hot mess these days, I know I'm loved. I'm loved by my God though I do what I don't want to do and don't do what I want to do. I'm loved by my husband who's the best friend, co-parent, and love of my life. And I know I'm loved by others who care about who I am more than what I do. So, I'm a mess yet I'm grateful. And I'm learning some along the way, too.