Tag: Lydia Evelyn

life with two.

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About 8 weeks into this two-kid life, I had a realization: I am really, really unhealthy spiritually, emotionally, and physically. My kids are thriving, I’m transitioning back into work, meals are getting cooked and the house is (mostly) clean, but I am not taking care of myself.

The breaking point came one Sunday morning. Eliza was napping in her crib and Kevin was out of the house. I sat down on the floor near the coffee table to color with Lydia. Only a few minutes in, I started feeling intense anxiety, like I was wasting time. Thoughts were swirling through my mind. Eliza is asleep and Lydia is distracted, what can I get done? What can I multi-task while playing with Lydia?

It’s impossible to get anything done with two kids under two awake, so when I have at least one asleep, I try to be doing something – cooking, cleaning, getting myself ready for the day, responding to a text  – rushing to the next task to complete before the free moment passes.

But this morning I wanted it to be different. It was a Sunday morning. I wanted to sit and color with my daughter. I wanted to simply enjoy her company. To enjoy the calm, the silence.

And I couldn’t sit still.

As I tried to fight the anxiety and be present with Lydia, conviction set in. I knew in my heart that it wasn’t just this moment. Since coming home from the hospital and starting our life with two kids, I’d had an inability to sit and be still, to spend quiet time with the Lord, or even prioritize taking care of myself. I broke down as I realized that not only was I hurting myself, but it was now affecting my ability to be present with my own daughter.

It was time to acknowledge my sin and ask for help.

 

F I V E . M I N U T E S .

Breaking the habit of hurry, which isn’t easy for any momma (but especially those of us that are enneagram 3’s) takes discipline, dedication, and accountability. A wise friend spoke the words of God into my life when she suggested that I start small: Five minutes of silence a day.

Literally, five minutes. The first chance that I get.

There have been a rare few days where I’ve been able to start my day with five minutes. Usually it doesn’t come until 2pm when both my girls are taking naps. There’s been some days when it comes at 10pm. But there have been few days I’ve missed. I set a timer on my phone for 5 minutes and 5 seconds (a few seconds for adjustment) and my phone on “do not disturb.” The only thing I’m allowed to “do” during that time is drink a cup of coffee or other beverage that fits the time of day.

And I must sit
still
in
silence.

I can’t also eat, also drive, also shower, also clean.
I must
simply
sit
still
and
listen.

And as my husband reminds me
let God listen to me.

The first time felt anxious and uncomfortable, but it only took a few days for it to become the highlight of my day. I sit in silence and listen for God. When the timer goes off, I sometimes journal a few thoughts or a few words I hear from God.

Little did I know that five minutes a day would be so transformative.

“It’s like, it’s just five minutes,” I said to Kevin about a week later. “Why is it making such a difference in my day?”

He pointed out simply, “It’s not just about the five minutes. You’re taking control of the day and stopping to sit with the Lord, instead of letting the day control you.”

And that’s the freedom I’ve felt. In the midst of spending 14-16 hours a day, usually with an hour at night, taking care of other people, I am stopping to at the least spend five minutes taking care of myself, my soul. Drawing near to the Lord in the midst of the hurry. And that is a victory.

 

L I F E . W I T H . T W O.

I am here now this week, 12-weeks postpartum with my second daughter. Praise God, there has been so much that the Lord has done in the past four weeks to bring me into a healthier place – way more than I could possibly write! The Lord has been so kind to bring in just the right Scripture or podcast or song or text when I needed clarity, to provide a husband that wants to fight for me to find health in this season, and some amazing women who speak truth into my life.

So how is life with two kids under two?

I’ll be real. Many days my patience runs thin. I look forward to work because it’s actually a break. I’ve got a strong-willed toddler that loves to test the limits and a 12-week-old that only naps for 30 minutes at a time. I’ve fallen asleep on the couch and had to be carried into bed by my husband honestly more times than I can count.

Yet at the same time, life feels natural and normal, just with an extra layer of joy and love that I feel toward my second daughter Eliza and seeing her grow and discover the world. I am still fighting the same temptations I had before marriage, before motherhood, and before being a momma of two: the temptation to fill my days and my life with business, distractions, and excuses that keep me from intimacy with the Lord.

In every season, God must re-teach me the same lessons:

He alone is the One who has not only called me to this life but equipped me.
He alone is the source of my peace and joy.
He alone is worthy of my heart’s worship.
He alone is worthy of my all.

Thank God for a five-minute reminder each day of the Truth that will last for eternity.

just wait.

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I can’t tell you how many times in my motherhood journey I’ve heard the phrase “just wait.”

In pregnancy… just wait until you are further along! Just wait until childbirth. Just wait until the arrival. And then your life will change.

And as my husband and I would celebrate Lydia’s milestones as she got closer to mobility, such as rolling over or pulling her knees up, again we’d hear from so many parents who have gone before us, just wait until she’s mobile. And then your life will change. 

To be completely honest, I’ve gotten so tired of hearing the phrase just wait from both friends and strangers, that I’m now trying to take that phrase out of my vocabulary as I talk with other friends who are pregnant or new mommas.

Is there not always something next? Having two kids together? The terrible toddler years? The teenager years? Just wait.

I truly doubt
the phrase just wait
will ever end
and
I’ll get to the day
where I wonder what
I’ve been waiting for.

 

L E N S . M A T T E R S .

Social media gets a lot of criticism. People claim that it’s a pit for comparison where people only share the “highlights” of their life. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not going to pretend like I haven’t scrolled through Instagram stuck in that very same comparison pit. But one thing I’ve wondered: is putting your highlights on social media all that bad? What I’m getting at here is, in an effort to share the joys of my life in a creative expression on social media, I am making a conscious effort to focus on the positives in my life. Yes, it may have been a stressful day, but my baby’s smile made me laugh, and that’s what I would like to choose to celebrate and choose to focus on.

Lens matters. What lens do we view our life? Do we focus on the positives, or the negatives?

It seems that when it comes to having a mobile baby, most people focus on the negatives.

It’s impossible to get anything done.
You’ll have no time to yourself.
You can’t take your eye off her.

What about all the positives?

My daughter is exploring the world!
She’s laughing and learning!
She’s growing and getting stronger!
It’s fun!

My charge is this: As we go through life transitions, and listen to other people’s reactions to them, let’s put their perspectives into perspective.

See, it’s not just having a mobile baby. Countless told me that marriage would be hard. After all, its famous nickname is the ball and chain! Well, I’m almost six years in and I’m still trying to figure out when I’m going to discover the “hard” that everyone talked about.

Don’t get me wrong, marriage can be messy, and our relationship takes work. Just like in parenthood, there are times when Lydia’s mobility has been inconvenient. I have to be more flexible in my days and willing to ask others for help to make sure the work gets done. But the joy of marriage and the joy of motherhood far outweighs any of the bad. In fact, I can’t even compare the two.

“Rejoice in the Lord always… do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things… and the God of peace will be with you.” (Philippians 4:4-9)

The joy, hope, and peace that comes from a life in Christ Jesus, because of His life, death, and resurrection, transcends all understanding. That’s what I choose to focus on.

 

F I L T E R . O U T .

As Philippians 4:8 tells us, let us think about the things excellent and praiseworthy. Just as we change the filter on our photos to bring in better lighting, let us filter out the negative thoughts and voices that fill our mind, and choose to focus on the positives.

The more we focus on the positives,
the more,
over time,
we will experience
the peace
of God
and
more importantly
the God
of peace.

I’m not saying to be ingenuine or display an unrealistic life. We must own every emotion that we feel, positive or negative, and work through and process those. But I am saying that it’s OK to celebrate the highlights and to place your focus on the positives. You may just find yourself loving your life more, finding peace, and experiencing the very One who enables it all.

Ask yourself, what lens do I view this transition or circumstance in my life? A life-altering challenge for the worse, or an exciting adventure?

Don’t just wait for the circumstances to change, better or worse. Embrace the today you are living, and understand that the present is a gift, even in the mess.

.

As soon as Lydia learned to crawl, she started pulling up. Her upward mobility reminds me to see mobility, as well as many other changes in life, with the positive lens.

“For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all.” (2 Corinthians 4:17)

choices.

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When I was pregnant, I wondered who Lydia would be. Now when I think of my little girl, I imagine her bright blue eyes and shy smile. I realize all-the-same that I love her so deeply not because of what she’s done, but because of who she is. She’s my daughter.

Many days I look at Lydia and think about what it means to be a child of God. Now that I am a parent, I think about what it’s like for God to be like our Father. I wonder how He must love running to comfort us or hold us when we are upset, and how He must love meeting every one of our needs!

Lydia is growing, and at almost three-and-a-half months old, she seems to be hitting new milestones every few days. From rolling over to laughing to reaching for toys, I am in awe of this little one. As she’s becoming interested in what’s around her and gaining head control, I’ve noticed that she’s started turning outward while I hold her so that she can face the world. Lydia is learning that she has the choice and the control over where she looks and where she moves.

As Lydia has gotten older, she often prefers to look out at the world. Yet there are certain moments in the day, especially if she’s tired or not feeling well, when she will choose to curl up and bury her face into my chest. My entire heart melts as I embrace her, rock her, and hold her close. As a newborn, that’s all she really knew how to do. But now, there is something even sweeter about her choosing to turn in to me when I know that she has the choice to turn away.

And with this I’m learning how much God must love it when we choose Him in our day-to-day moments.

We have the ability and the freedom, not just to turn away, but to walk away.
Yet when we choose
to turn in
to rest in the arms of our Father,
He delights in us.

 

L O V E . I S .

We all have choices to make. God loves us so deeply that He gives us a choice to love Him back, yet He is longing for us to choose Him. And it’s not just the one time we accept Jesus as Lord that we choose to follow Him. It’s all the little moments that we turn into His arms, every day, that He loves.

Often in marriage, I have found that love is not simply a feeling, but more-so a choice. After nine years with my husband, five of those married, some days choosing to love would not be the most convenient, natural, or the easiest option.

Yet I choose him.
I choose to trust him even when it’s easier to be angry.
I choose to ask for his forgiveness even when it’s easier to be defensive.
I choose to listen to him even when I have other things I could be doing.
I choose to love him even when I have momentary doubts or fears.

Often in my relationship with God, I have found that love is not simply a feeling, but more-so a choice. Even after ten years of following the Lord, some days choosing to trust Him would not be the most convenient, natural, or the easiest option.

Yet I choose Him.
I choose to trust Him even when it’s easier to be angry.
I choose to ask for His forgiveness even when it’s easier to be defensive.
I choose to listen to Him even when I have other things I could be doing.
I choose to love Him even when I have momentary doubts or fears.

 

B E L O V E D .

God chose us. He chose to send His Son to die on a Cross as the penalty for our sins, so that we could justly receive the forgiveness of our sins and be placed in right standing with God. Because of His choice, we now have the privilege of experiencing fullness of life in a personal relationship with Him.

And
in case you’re doubting today,
God chose you
and
you are never too far gone
to choose
to run back
into the arms of Your Father.

Just as Kevin and I love Lydia not because of what she’s done, but because of who she is, God loves you not because of what you’ve done, but because of who you are. We are His beloved children, and He is longing for us to choose Him.

 

“But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and felt compassion, and ran and embraced him… ‘For this my son was dead, and is alive again; he was lost, and is found.’” (Luke 15:11-24)

life & death.

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The devastating news from my best friend came in the form of a text message: We lost baby G. No heartbeat.

A quick phone call and a few minutes later, I left my 3-week-old baby at home with my husband and a house full of guests. Along with two other close friends in our community, we were on our way to the pregnancy clinic to meet our friend Keely. We walked into the clinic room only to see her, tissues in hand, staring down at sonogram photos of her unborn baby in her lap.

What was a routine check-up for peace of mind after mild cramping turned into her worst nightmare: not her first, not her second, but her third miscarriage.

After embracing, tears, and questioning, Keely handed me the sonogram photos of her baby. In those photos I saw my own daughter, Lydia. How many times had I looked at the same sonogram photos with hopes of meeting her, wonders of holding her, and dreams about what she would be like?

For my friend Keely, I had no words.

 

V I S I O N S .

I felt darkness for a few days. Postpartum emotions surely weren’t helping. I grieved for Keely and her husband Kyle and the loss of their baby.

I questioned God of suffering, why them?
I also questioned the Lord of blessings, why me?

Why was I chosen for a healthy, easy pregnancy and a beautiful, healthy baby?

Not to mention, my mind started playing tricks on me. Fears of loosing Lydia increased.

I started having visions…
visions that my sweet and gentle dog would attack her when I wasn’t looking…
visions that I would drop her or that she would fall off her changing table…
visions that I would go to look in her crib or her car seat and she would be dead…

Back-to-back nights, I woke up in the middle of the night to feed Lydia alone, surrounded by darkness, continuing to wrestle with God and try to process my friend’s reality.

As a new mom, her loss affected me even deeper. I couldn’t articulate it in words until, finally, the true distress came to me in prayer:

Lord, can I trust You to keep Lydia safe? You – who allows babies to die?

 

E V E N . I F .

I stared at this question, written clearly in my journal. This doubt in God and lack of control fueled my anxiety. Not only was I grieving on behalf of my friend, but it suddenly became all too real that I could lose Lydia in an instant.

God, who is a good Father, ultimately allows the unthinkable to happen.

While I had processed a potential loss in pregnancy, I’ve now met Lydia and fallen in love with who she is. The thought of losing her scares the hell out of me. The thought that God could allow that to happen scares me even more.

However, once I confessed my fears, I was able to combat those fears with Truth and experience healing and clarity.

Yes, but God is still worth trusting, because He has proven Himself faithful too many times. He has the power to redeem even the darkest of circumstances.
Yes, but God is still worth trusting, because my hope is not in this temporary world. My hope is in Jesus and in eternal life with Him.
Yes, but God is still worth trusting, because quite frankly there is no better way.

Ultimately, I am choosing to trust a God with my own baby’s life that lets babies die. But God is still worth trusting even if _________ (fill in the blank – my worst nightmare).

While I will always take precautions to keep Lydia safe and control what I can control, ultimately, those fears will still come and much is out of my control. Yet I surrendered the visions, in the name of Jesus, they have no power over me. Lydia’s life is in the God’s hands. Her days are numbered perfectly and every day is a gift. I choose to trust Him and to let go of control, even if He doesn’t give me what I want.

Peace followed.

 

L I F E . I N . D E A T H .

I had a mom-friend recently recommend that I do a Scripture reading plan from my phone, one that I can access while breastfeeding or holding my new baby. The Lord led me to a She Reads Truth study called “The Miracles of Jesus.” A few days ago, I happened to finish the two-week study with a devotional that highlighted the times Jesus performed miracles by raising someone from the dead (Matthew 9:18-26, Luke 7:11-17, John 11:17-44). Again I thought about my friend Keely. Why couldn’t Jesus save her baby from death? What’s the point of showing us miracles like these when we are faced with the reality that too many times, Jesus chooses not to save those we love from death?

Then the devotional ended like this:

Jesus knew the temptation we face with miracles is to desire the gift more than the Giver (John 6:26-27)…The Gospel accounts of Jesus conquering death seem like the ultimate of all miracles. But really, they were only a short-term (and yes, miraculous) solution to a long-term problem. The only source of real and lasting hope is not a miracle, but the Messiah.

God is a lot more concerned with our spiritual health than our physical health because He knows that our spiritual health is much more important. Our physical state is temporary, but our spiritual health is where we find true joy and satisfaction for eternity. Jesus Himself is more glorious than any miracle and any answer to prayer. Jesus is the way, the truth, and the life (John 14:6).

“I am the resurrection and the life. Whoever believes in Me, though he die, yet shall he live, and everyone who lives and believes in Me shall never die.” (John 11:25)

He is still worth trusting, even if our current anxieties come to be and even if He doesn’t give us what we want.

Ultimately
He Himself conquered death on the cross
raised to life
so that we may experience life to the fullest
even in the face of death.

The depth and joy of knowing Jesus is far better than any accomplishment or any earthly blessing. Jesus is our hope for truly living our best life.

 

THREE WEEKS.

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Lydia is three weeks old.

I’m stopping today to write because I don’t want this season to pass without remembering a few things about Lydia’s first three weeks. If the next three go as fast as the first, I’ll never be able to keep these precious memories straight. Here are some things I don’t want to forget.

 

T O . B E . S E R V E D .

Since Lydia’s birth, we have yet to go to the grocery store and have hardly spent any money on food. Immediately after Lydia was born, a friend of ours set up a “meal train.” Every two days we’ve had a different person in our church community bring us a meal and many other friends and family drop by with snacks, coffee, meals, groceries, and gifts for Lydia. We’ve received countless texts, e-mails, and cards in the mail from friends and family who are eager to help us welcome Lydia into the world.

In all of these ways, we have been served graciously.

On another level, a few of my closest friends have entered my exhaustion, recovery, and the mess of my home. My sister raided her closet for summer clothes that would fit my postpartum body and helped me pack away my work and maternity clothes. She’s encouraged me, sat with me while breastfeeding, helped care for Lydia’s needs, made grocery runs, taken our dog on walks, cleaned, organized, and showered Lydia with gifts. My best friend came all the way from Dallas to Lawrence simply to serve me and encourage me in my new journey of motherhood for a few days. She scrubbed baby poop and milk stains off my nursing chair, cleaned my bathroom, and reorganized my kitchen cabinets to make room for baby bottles. Her and another best friend in town came over one morning with Starbucks and Chipotle and vacuumed and swept my floors and folded my laundry.

To be served
when nothing is expected in return
is truly a gift.
Undeserved grace.

 

T O . S E R V E .

In the same breath, I also have had the opportunity to selflessly serve my husband and newborn baby with the same challenge – to except nothing in return.

Two days after we got home from the hospital Kevin came down with a stomach bug that knocked him out. Before I would have otherwise felt ready, I was encouraging him to sleep through the night so that he could get well, waking up on my own every couple hours to feed Lydia. Even after the worst of his sickness passed, the virus lingered, and for days Lydia’s diaper changes were a trigger for his nausea. Lydia’s care became my sole responsibility for a few days as I learned to serve my daughter and fought to serve my husband with every ounce of energy I had left.

At first it seemed like I had a boost of hormonal-mommy superpowers, but after a few days, the exhaustion hit. I was tired. Yet in spite of my physical weakness and sleep deprivation, my husband and my baby still needed me to serve them.

I fought against the weakness of my flesh
and strived
to serve
expecting nothing in return.

Since Kevin has been well, we are establishing a new rhythm of serving Lydia together and mutually serving one another.

To serve
and
to be served
in unity
is a beautiful thing.

 

M I L E S T O N E S .

This past week, Lydia’s third week of life, has been about taking small steps towards our new normal and our new routine. Despite a few minor setbacks like my viral eye infection and losing power in our house for 12 hours, we’ve felt freedom to start incorporating Lydia into our normal life. We’ve brought her to church, friends and family’s houses, and even out to a few of our favorite coffee shops.

This upcoming week continues to bring new milestones, including my first outing for extended time away from Lydia and our first drop off at my parent’s house so that Kevin and I can have a date night.

As I pass milestones of my own, I am watching my daughter grow and change every day. She no longer does the heart-melting lip quiver when she’s trying to cry, but now she’s unafraid to cry loud and use all her lungs, making sure I can hear her from the other room. She’s opening her eyes wider and can now hold eye contact with me for precious seconds that make time seem to stand still. Her tiny fingers have already grown, and this week Lydia is able to grip one of my fingers with her whole hand. She’s grown in her independence, lifting her head to look around when she’s on my chest. She isn’t afraid to let us know when she’s hungry or when she just wants to be held. She’s already out of newborn-size diapers and her newborn onesies are getting tighter. She’s growing so fast, a constant reminder to not take a day (or night) for granted.

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When I look back on these first three weeks of Lydia’s life, I will forever remember the feeling of being selflessly served by others while learning to selflessly serve my family of three.

As we step into our new normal, I am thankful for a God who sent His own Son into the world to show me what it looks like to serve others freely (John 13:14-15).

He came into this world
to serve
expecting nothing in return.
His love for us is a gift
Undeserved grace. 

“For even the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give His life as a ransom for many.” (Matthew 20:28, Mark 10:45)

my first hard day.

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Lydia’s birthday was filled with the sweetest moments: lots of skin-to-skin time, family cuddles, and staring into her eyes with wonder. There was little sleep but our hearts were full. I witnessed my husband as a loving father. We had our first opportunity to sooth Lydia to sleep, as I rocked her and her daddy read us a story from The Jesus Storybook Bible.

The second day we had many more visitors, this time friends and more family who came to meet our sweet baby Lydia and bring us coffee, meals, and dessert. Everything seemed to be going better than I could have dreamed. It was Wednesday night, and we were looking forward to discharge on Thursday morning and taking our girl home.

The doctor was monitoring Lydia’s jaundice level and said they would check again in the morning. As we neared the midnight hours, my breasts began to swell and feel different, unexpected pain. The nurse informed me that my milk was coming in, just in time for a lactation consultation the next morning before heading home!

And this brings us to Thursday, Day 2 of Lydia’s life, my first hard day of motherhood.

 

H E L P L E S S .

During our lactation consultation, I learned that my breasts had become so full with milk that it changed Lydia’s ability to latch. I got the devastating news that my daughter had in fact not been latching since my milk came in, and there was a decent chance that she had not gotten any milk in her previous two feedings.

Instantly I was embarrassed and ashamed. I should have known. How did I not know? Guilt set in as I blamed myself that Lydia hadn’t gotten the milk that she needed the last two feedings.

The next thing I knew, the lactation nurse was instructing me to pump, pouring my breast milk in a bottle, and handing Lydia over to Kevin to bottle feed her.

As the lactation nurse was writing out a new feeding plan that included trying a nipple shield to help Lydia latch while simultaneously pumping and bottle feeding, the hospital pediatrician walked in.

“Hold on, before you finish your plan,” she instructed the lactation nurse. “I have an update that might influence it.”

The doctor then went on to inform us that Lydia’s bilirubin levels had increased overnight. Her jaundice had worsened. She would start phototherapy – a special light treatment – immediately.

Before I could even process enough to ask the doctor questions, the nurses were bringing in a blue light, baby goggles, and the various materials for Lydia to start treatment.

Suddenly I was sitting on my hospital bed speechless
staring at my daughter
from across the room
watching her wiggle under the light
eyes covered.
And
I felt helpless.

For the next 24 hours, that’s most of what I did. That’s all I could do – just watch her.

She could only be removed from the light every 2.5 hours for feedings, for a max of 30 minutes, before returning back to the light.

The only 30-minute window I had with my daughter that day involved the one thing I was failing to do for her, feeding her. We would try 10 minutes for her to latch, and then the nurse would say, “Dad you’re up!” and hand Lydia over so that Kevin could give her a bottle.

It’s hard to put into words the emotions that I felt that day because they were emotions that I had never felt before in my life.

As I processed
I realized
never before had I felt this way
because never before had I been a mother
wanting so desperately to hold my baby
to tell her everything was going to be OK.
that the treatment was for her good
so that she could get well
that we would figure out feeding together.
And
I couldn’t.
And
I cried.

At some point later in the day I accepted what I could not control and tried to see the positives. By staying a third day in the hospital, not only would Lydia get well, but I could receive more lactation support and rest. I just needed to get through the day, my first hard day, that I knew wouldn’t be my last.

 

P E R S P E C T I V E .

I thought about our friends over at teamlacrew.com, who have been on a journey with their baby girl who was born premature at 25 weeks. (PS if you don’t know Andrea and Leonard Davis, you need to follow their story!) Just five weeks behind in pregnancy, their story has hit close to home for me, and I’ve been praying for their little girl since she was born as a preemie almost five months ago. They finally got to take baby Carrington home a few weeks ago. I thought to myself – if this is hard for one day – I can’t even imagine what they went through, just having to watch their baby helplessly not just for hours or days, but for months.

Perspective.

I thought about how many other times in Lydia’s life will I feel completely helpless and inadequate to save her? How many times will I see her hurting, see her making mistakes, and not be able to step in? How many times will I make mistakes and feel guilt, embarrassment, and shame for the ways that I fall short?

While I know this to be the gospel truth—that yes I am limited and I won’t be a perfect mama for Lydia—I still needed to experience the deep emotions in that moment. I needed to run to God. To sprint to Him, and let Him remind me to trust Him with my daughter’s life. My limitations as a parent only serve as a reminder of my desperate dependence on God every day.

I thought about how God, my Heavenly Father, sometimes let’s me undergo suffering for my good. Just like I watched Lydia receive phototherapy, knowing that even though that meant her next 24 hours wouldn’t be comfortable, it was for her good. How many times have I complained to God for a lack of comfort in my life, not being able to see the big picture that He is allowing me to endure for my good? How many times have I voiced anger at God for keeping me in that place, only to think that He hurts watching his daughter upset, even when He knows it’s for my good?

“And after you have suffered a little while, the God of all grace, who has called you to His eternal glory in Christ will Himself restore, confirm, strengthen, and establish you.” (1 Peter 5:10)

“For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison.” (2 Corinthians 4:17) 

“For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us.” (Romans 8:18)

Perspective.

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Night came and the sun rose again, Friday morning, a new day. Lydia latched for the first time (with the help of the nipple shield) since my milk came in. She got pricked for blood work for the third or fourth time, but we learned that her jaundice level had improved, and her treatment was complete. We held our girl close and did not stop holding her until we buckled her into her car seat and walked out of the hospital, headed home.

Enduring the hard day
made her homecoming
that much sweeter.
And
we rejoiced.

Welcome Home, Lydia.

Lydia’s Birth Story

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9 AM MONDAY

Monday, May 14 started out just like any other day. I had a cup of coffee and sat down for my morning quiet time with the Lord. Yet instead of sitting down on our porch or in my usual spot in the living room, I told my husband Kevin I was going to go spend time in our nursery praying for Lydia. At 39 weeks pregnant, I picked up a journal that was gifted to us to record prayers and thoughts for Lydia throughout her life. This is what I wrote:

Lydia – I am 39 weeks pregnant today. I am sitting and praying for you in our finished nursery. There is a verse above your crib that reads “Fear not, for I have redeemed you, I have called you by name, you are mine.” These are words that your Daddy and I believe have been spoken by God over your life. You belong to the Lord…

Jesus – I pray for our baby girl, that labor and delivery would not be delayed but come soon! We are ready to meet our little one! I am ready to bring her home and show her the place that we’ve prepared for her! Father God – bring her safely into this world and into my arms. Thank you God for the beautiful life that she is!

When we sit and pray and spend time with God, He conforms our heart according to His will. My heart was led to pray for the first time that morning that God would no longer delay her arrival. And that, indeed, was His will.

12 PM MONDAY

After some reading, cleaning, and a workout, my husband and I were off to our 39 week doctor’s appointment chatting briefly about the week’s activities and making plans for the rest of our afternoon. Everything about our appointment was normal. We got the news that I was dilated at over 4 cm, 90% effaced, and we laughed with our doctor about wanting her to come soon!

The final thing to do was to listen to Lydia’s heart rate. We waited for the familiar sound of her heart beating through the Doppler monitor, and while we heart her heart beat, my doctor’s face changed from a smile to a look of concern. Lydia’s heart rate was low. She instructed us that she wanted us to stay for further monitoring. After about 45 minutes of monitoring Lydia’s heart rate, we found the pattern. Each time she would move, her heart rate would go up as normal but then dip down suddenly below baseline. After getting a sonogram to check a few other things, our doctor sent us over to the labor and delivery unit for further monitoring to make sure that this drop wasn’t spontaneous activity.

2 PM MONDAY

We walked into a delivery room and my stomach was strapped with two monitors – one for Lydia’s heart rate, and one to measure contractions. The nurse left us alone and Kevin and I started to pray. Kevin’s prayer, similar to my own that morning, changed suddenly according to God’s will.

Lord, let us meet our daughter today.

An hour or so later, our doctor came back in. The pattern in Lydia’s heart rate had persisted, and she didn’t feel right sending us home. She informed me that she was admitting me into the hospital for an induction. We talked through our options and our attitude changed to excitement. This is the day we had been waiting for. We were finally going to meet our daughter!

4 PM MONDAY

They immediately started me with an IV of penicillin because of my group B strep while Kevin went home to grab our pre-packed hospital bags and a few last-minute items. As soon as Kevin came back, my doctor broke my water, and labor began.

5:30 PM MONDAY

We spent the next two hours being monitored, getting and IV, texting friends and family, walking the hallways, and processing what was happening. We prayed for Lydia’s heart rate and her health. We praised God for this day. With each increasing contraction, so was the reality of labor. My sister Rosie arrived for extra support and stayed in the room throughout labor, leaving just before delivery. We came up with a code word for every time I would start to feel a contraction. After laughing at all the possible words, we established a simple one. Now. Every time Kevin would hear the word now he would put out his hand, I would grab his hand, and we would together endure the pain.

7:30 PM MONDAY

After only progressing to a 4.5 cm, we made the decision with our doctor to start Pitocin (given through an IV) to induce labor. Within 30 minutes, my contractions increased to every 2-3 minutes. Lydia’s head was lowering, my dilation started increasing, and so did the pain.

For the past 8 months, Kevin and I have had a lot of conversations about our birth plan. I am so thankful that we stayed open-minded and that we could confidently accept the induction without being disappointed. The goal was healthy Lydia, whatever it takes. Yet one important preference was to not have pain medication or an epidural. We read a book together, took a class together, and spent time preparing for what the pain of childbirth would be and how we would approach the reality of that pain. For both medical and personal reasons, we stood firm in this decision. Throughout the next five hours, the pain increased with every contraction to undoubtedly the worst continuous physical pain I’ve ever experienced in my life. Yet we never lost control and God never left our side. There were four stages of the pain from my experience, which I will process below as I continue documenting the timeline of Lydia’s birth story.

8:30 PM MONDAY

After learning I was 5 cm dilated, I decided to do a labor position on the ball. Lydia was so low that the nurse couldn’t keep the heart rate monitor on outside of my stomach. One nurse had to actually hold it on to my stomach while I was laboring. I even tried the wireless monitor so I could get in the tub, but we quickly learned that made it even more difficult for the monitor to stay on. I got the chills and was shivering head to toe and started feeling nauseous. Whatever liquids I drank since being admitted I instantly threw up. The doctor decided to insert a heart monitor from the inside that would stick on the top of Lydia’s head. This allowed the nurses to completely leave the room and monitor from outside the room. Finally we were left alone – myself, Kevin and Rosie. We turned on worship music and the rest became a dream. I wish I could remember every detail but it was so surreal. This is around the time I hit stage one:

 

D I S T R A C T I N G . T H E . P A I N .

Back to laboring on the ball, what I remember from this stage was that Kevin would tell me to “dream Lydia dreams.” I thought about meeting my daughter. I thought about taking her on walks or taking her to the pool this summer. We tried to distract my mind from the pain. This didn’t last too long, and I quickly transitioned to stage two:

 

F I G H T I N G . O F F. T H E . P A I N .

We learned in this stage that I needed to actively fight the pain mentally so that I could relax and breathe through the pain. I found myself repeating phrases that Kevin would say throughout the climax of the contraction.

The pain is temporary.
It will pass.

10:15 PM MONDAY

After being checked again, I learned that I was dilated at 6.5 cm and 100% effaced. However, Lydia had turned slightly and she needed to be face down, so my doctor suggested that I change positions. With the front of the hospital bed raised, I was on my knees, arms over the top of the bed, rhythmically swaying my hips and breathing through each contraction. After a few moments of weakness, doubting to myself and Kevin, wondering if I could do this, wondering if it was too late for the epidural, I realized that I needed to change my mindset. This brings on stage 3:

 

A T T A C K I N G . T H E . P A I N .

Perhaps it was the former athlete, competitive side of me taking over, but all of a sudden I realized that I didn’t want the pain to win. I knew that I could be in control mentally over the pain with a mind-over-body approach. I simply needed to get my mind in a place to attack the pain. I needed to not think about the many hours and contractions to come, but take it one contraction, once at a time. Our repeating phrases changed:

It’s worth it.
Joy on the other side.

Over and over, we repeated these phrases, breathing through each contraction. Kevin was my rock and didn’t leave my side from this point forward. I would say now, reach for his hand, and he would coach me through the pain, reminding me of our phrases, reminding me that it’s worth it and that there’s joy on the other side. We found our rhythm and Kevin constantly reminded me that every contraction with an increase in pain meant I was one minute closer to meeting our daughter.

11:20 PM MONDAY

All of a sudden, I started feeling the urge to push. I asked Rosie to call in the nurse, I needed to be checked. I had figured out how to attack the pain, but resisting the urge to push was an entirely new experience. After being checked again, I learned that in just the last hour, I was dilated to a 9.5 cm. (I only needed to be at a 10 cm before I could push!) I needed to endure the pain just a little bit longer while Lydia got a little bit lower. Yet at this point not only was the pain a 10/10 on the pain scale, but I was also having to resist my entire body convulsing to want to push her out of me. It’s at this point that I transitioned to stage four:

 

E M B R A C I N G . T H E . P A I N .

As we got back into our labor position, Rosie came over to read scripture. This is what she read:

Very truly I tell you, you will weep and mourn while the world rejoices. You will grieve, but your grief will turn to joy. A woman giving birth to a child has pain because her time has come; but when her baby is born she forgets the anguish because of her joy that a child is born into the world. So with you: Now is your time of grief, but I will see you again and you will rejoice, and no one will take away your joy. (John 16:20-22)

I was reminded in that moment about the Cross. I was reminded about the pain that Jesus suffered on the Cross because He loved me. I wondered in that moment how Jesus was able to find joy in His pain, because He knew that there would be joy – salvation for His beloved – on the other side of the Cross. I thought about how He was empowered by love to endure the pain and suffering on our behalf – because He loves us.

Kevin had been reminding me of the gospel and the presence of God was obvious throughout labor, but in this moment I looked at Kevin. I felt completely empowered by my love for him and my love for Lydia. We had one of the most intimate moments of our marriage. I told him that I was enduring this all with joy because of my love for him and my love for Lydia. He thanked me, spoke sweetly to me, and we held each other’s gaze for several moments before the next contraction came.

These overwhelming feelings of love allowed me to embrace the pain. My final phrase became:

Joy in the pain.

12 AM TUESDAY

The doctor came in for a check, and I was 10 cm dilated. Finally, it was time to push! Kevin remembers this scene much more than I do, as I was now on my back, continually enduring contractions and resisting the urge to push until my doctor and the delivery team was suited up and ready to go. The doctor gave me the instructions on how to position my body and how to orchestrate my breathing.

Each time I would feel a contraction coming on, now, I would take a deep breath in and out. Then one deep breath in, hold, and push as hard as I possibly could for 10 seconds. Pause, repeat three times until the contraction ended.

This stage was easier because I could finally use the pain towards something, but the amount of pressure that I felt as Lydia’s head started to come out was a whole new kind of painful sensation. Not very long after, Kevin and I could both look down and see the top of our sweet Lydia’s head coming out and we could see her dark brown hair.

While worship music had been playing throughout all of labor as background music, a song came on our bluetooth speaker about halfway through pushing. Hillsong United’s Lead Me to the Cross… The song that I walked down the aisle to on our wedding day. This was the sweetest gift from the Lord and a reminder to us in that moment of His presence.

The Lord was near. I prayed more actively in this stage during breaks between contractions. I needed God’s help to show me how to relax the right muscles, hold my breath, and push the right way so I could meet my daughter sooner. Finally my doctor informed me that she could make a 1 cm incision and then I’d meet my baby. Without a doubt, I said yes.

12:39 AM TUESDAY

I don’t remember even feeling the incision because of all the pressure. All I knew was that I was determined to meet my daughter. On the very next push, my doctor had to yell at me to stop pushing because my daughter was arriving! The next thing I knew I heard Lydia’s cry and she was immediately placed on my chest. I started repeating a different phrase in that moment, over and over:

My baby, my baby, my baby…

Kevin started crying as he came close. Whatever else followed – delivering the placenta, getting stitched from the incision, the emptying of fluids – nothing else mattered because I was holding my daughter. She stopped crying when she felt the warmth of my chest. I saw her eyes and I studied her from head to toe.

2 AM TUESDAY

After our family bonding time, they weighed her, measured her, and my sister and parents came into the room to meet Lydia. Then I was able to get up, use the bathroom on my own, and walk myself to the room down the hall next to my husband who was pushing our daughter in her hospital bassinet. I enjoyed the benefits of the quick recovery of natural childbirth, and we received compliments from doctors and nurses commenting on Lydia’s liveliness, their shock that I never once screamed or lost control, and commenting on Kevin’s steady and attentive presence.

.

Yes, the pain was worth it.
Immediately the pain of childbirth was forgotten.
Love, joy and relief washed over me.
Our daughter was here.

Lydia Evelyn Tietz
Born 12:39 AM on Tuesday, May 15, 2018
8 lbs 7 oz, 21 inches

Mother’s Day.

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Today is my first Mother’s Day, and as Kevin reminded me last night, the first of the rest of my life.

When I saw this date, May 13, 2018, just eight days away from my due date, I wondered if I would be spending Mother’s Day pregnant, in the hospital, or on the other side of Lydia’s birth. In this moment, early in the morning after yet another night of restless sleep, I sit in our nursery, wondering about meeting my daughter.

Baby Lydia’s room is on the east corner of our house, with two large windows facing the east. The morning sunrise shines brightly through the windows, light filling the space. Everything in her room is in order. Her clothes are washed, folded, and put away with a few dresses hanging in the closet. Her diaper changing pad sits on an old, hand-me-down dresser, big enough to store all of her diaper and sanitary needs. Her various blankets are folded and hung from a wooden ladder. Her books and a few toys are organized neatly in a crate on the floor. A white wall clock ticks as time passes, every second marking one second closer to her birthday. Decorations are set, custom designed with her name on them and Bible verses that already ring true in her life. I sit in our new rocking chair, swollen feet propped up on the ottoman, computer on my lap with my hands laid gently to the side of my 38 centimeter belly, watching my daughter’s movements as I type.

As my motherly instincts set in, I find an inner desire to bring her home to a clean, organized and prepared space. Like a mother bird building her nest, our little nest for Lydia is finally complete. As we put together the finishing touches for her nursery this weekend, I was reminded of Jesus’ words that He shared with His disciples during the Last Supper.

“Let not your hearts be troubled. Believe in God; believe also in Me. In my Father’s house are many rooms. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to Myself, that where I am you may be also.” (John 14:1-3)

 

L E T . N O T .

In this simple passage, Jesus acknowledges our anxiety about that which is uncertain. In the context, Jesus had just finished prophesying Peter’s denial, and He was letting His close friends know that He was leaving them. Why? Because He had to die on a Cross in order to fulfill God’s great plan for the redemption of humanity. Yet we can hear these words, let not your hearts be troubled, and we can apply them to that which is uncertain in our own lives.

What day will I go into labor?
Will I be ready?
Will she be healthy?
What will life be like on the other side of her birth?

 

B E L I E V E .

Jesus’ response to why we should not be troubled? Because we have the incredible opportunity to believe in the promises of God fulfilled in the person of Jesus. These promises proclaim that He is sovereign over our circumstances, doubts, and fears because He goes before all things (Colossians 1:17). To my uncertainties, I need only to choose belief, and He grants me peace in the midst of the unknown.

He knows the day.
He has prepared me.
Her life is in His hands.
God will be with me on the other side of her birth.

 

A . P L A C E . F O R . Y O U .

Jesus says that He goes ahead of us to prepare a place for each of us. He says there are many rooms in His Father’s house, and one of those rooms seems to be set aside for each of His children. In this promise, I now think of Lydia Evelyn’s room.

As we prepare a place for her in our house
before her arrival,
Jesus has given me the perfect picture of the way
He is preparing a place for us in Heaven
before our arrival.

I imagine the joy that we will have when we bring Lydia home for the first time. One of the first things I’ll do is bring her into her room to show her all the preparations we’ve made for her. I’ll show her the closet and all her adorable clothes that her friends and family have purchased for her. I’ll show her the dresser, reassuring her that her needs will be cared for. I might let her feel her soft blankets, and tell her of the ones made by and in honor of her great grandmothers. I’ll show her some of her books and her toys. I’ll glance at the clock, which will remind me that the waiting is over, and I’ll tell her how happy I am to have her home. I’ll read her aloud the Scripture that hangs over her crib and tell her about Jesus. And then, soon enough, I’ll sit with her in my rocking chair, feet propped up on the ottoman, to spend intimate time feeding her and holding her.

Is this the way that God, our Father, waits to be fully united with us in heaven?
Is this the kind of joy that He experiences after our long awaited arrival?
Will we get to heaven, greeted by our Father, and He’ll immediately show us with eager excitement this place that He has prepared for us?

 

W H E R E . I . A M .

Jesus reassures His disciples that He will be coming back, even after death. He will rise from the dead.
Why?
To take us to Himself, so that where He is, we may be also (John 14:3).
He knows that in the deepest longing of our hearts, we need nothing more than to be with Him.

Why does God love us so much? Why does He want us to be with Him intimately? Are we not imperfect people that constantly fall short of His holiness?

With renewed perspective on my first Mother’s Day, I think about all we’ve done to prepare for Lydia. What has she done for me? Absolutely nothing. (In fact, made my life a little less convenient these last nine months!) However, I don’t love her because of what she’s done. She’s done nothing to earn our countless hours spent preparing a place for her. I love her because of who she is.

Because she is my daughter,
I long to meet her
to spend time with her in our home.
Because she is my daughter,
I prepare a place for her.

.

God loves you, did you know that? And it’s not because of what you’ve done or what you haven’t done or what you deserve. He loves you because you are His son or His daughter. He is preparing a place for me and for you. What other response do we have, but to believe?

“I will not leave you as orphans; I will come to you. Yet a little while and world will see Me no more, but you will see Me. Because I live, you also will live.” (John 14:18-18)

may is here.

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May is here.

The month we’ve waiting for. The month of the due date for our first child.

At 37 weeks on Monday, medically I am considered full-term. Baby Lydia is fully developed at this point. She’s dropped into the head down position and I’m dilated 2 centimeters and 80 percent effaced. Now it’s just a waiting game.

Apparently I look 8 ½ months pregnant because how big I am tends to dominate my every conversation with friends, coworkers and strangers. One of the common questions I recieve on a daily basis is, Are you ready? That’s a tough question to answer.

Sometimes I answer with an quick yes.
Kevin and I are so excited to be parents!
We can’t wait to meet Lydia!
We have all the items we need, the hospital bag packed, and our to-do lists completed.
We are ready for her, any day now!

And then occasionally someone will ask me on a day when I’m feeling a bit more realistic. I might answer with an as ready as I can be, honestly doubting that achieving the state of “readiness” is even possible.

The conversation typically continues with people offering their best advice or words of wisdom.

You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into.
Your life is about to change forever.
You’ll regret not having an epidural, you’re submitting yourself to torture.
Natural birth is the best choice I ever made, it’s wonderful.
Being a parent is amazing.
Your life is over.
You’ll love being a mom!
Are you sure you’re ready to be a mom?

 

C H A N G E .

I’ve been through various changes and transitions in my life, but never one so physically obvious to others. Strangers take one look at me and know that I’m getting ready to embark on one of the biggest “changes” that anyone can go through.

Here’s the deal. While I’m still on the waiting side of motherhood, if there is anything that I’ve learned in my short 27 years of life it’s this: There are only two constants in life, God and change.

“For I the Lord do not change.” (Malachi 3:6)

God is who He says He is. He is unchanging, unwavering, eternal. Thank the Lord there is One who is consistent and One who never changes!

“Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever.” (Hebrews 13:8)

The only other thing that is certain is that change will happen. It is an inevitable part of human life. Most of us naturally avoid change and anticipate change as a bad thing. Yet often, it’s unavoidable and out of our control. However, change is the only way that we grow and are challenged to become more of the humans that we were ultimately created to be.

 

T R A N S F O R M .

The other known thing about change is that usually we will first try to manage it on our own without God. Here I am, weeks or possibly days away from the biggest change of my life, and I am finding much of my confidence in the to-do lists, the preparations, and my own physical body.

At our doctor’s appointment last week, I found out that Lydia has dropped into the perfect head down position. I got the numbers on the dilation and effacement, and I left my appointment elated by my own self-righteousness, thinking I’m good to go. My body is built for childbirth. (I am honestly embarrassed to type out those thoughts but truly that’s what was going through my mind!) Then the next day I got a phone call from my doctor’s office that I tested positive for group B Strep, which means that I’ll need an antibiotic as soon as I go into labor so it’s not passed on to Lydia when she’s born. I got off the phone and immediately realized that this diagnosis actually was a blessing. I needed a direct reminder from God that no, it’s not up to my physical body how my child birth will go. It’s not up to the preparations I’ve made for labor. Her healthy delivery is completely and wholly in God’s control.

The next day I was reading Philippians 3 and found affirmation in God’s voice from the following scripture:

“We… worship by the Spirit of God and glory in Christ Jesus and put no confidence in the flesh.” (Philippians 3:3)

My confidence is not in my physical body or the current state of baby Lydia. My confidence is in the Lord, His goodness and His promises.

Though my flesh is weak, His Spirit is strong in me (Matthew 26:40).
He will transform our lowly bodies to be like His glorious body (Philippians 3:21).
He will transform our hearts and minds to be like that of Christ (Romans 12:2).
In the hard and the dark moments of childbirth and parenting, I don’t have to fear or have anxiety, because I rely on the Holy Spirit.
He will intervene in those difficult moments giving me discernment and strength.
I don’t have to fear change because of God’s promise to never leave me nor forsake me (Joshua 1:15, Hebrews 13:5).
He will be with me always (Matthew 28:20).

“God is not human, that He should lie, not a human being, that He should change His mind. Does He speak and then not act? Does He promise and not fulfill?” (Numbers 23:19)

This is why I think of this upcoming season less as merely change and more as an opportunity for God to transform me into the woman that He has ultimately created me to be.

 

P R E S S . O N .

In confidence, because I know that God is with me and in me, as May is here, I have the great privilege of living out this commision:

“But whatever gain I had, I counted as loss of the sake of Christ…. Not that I have already obtained this or am already perfect, but I press on to make it my own because Christ Jesus has made me His own. But one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead. I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward calling of God in Christ Jesus.” (Philippians 3:7-14)

I’ll end with this. Perhaps one of the most cliché Bible verses about having a child says that every good and perfect gift comes from above. This is true! Lydia is a gift from God above! Yet read the second half of the verse and take comfort. In this life we will change, but God, thank God, You never will.

“Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows.” (James 1:17)

one month left.

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Her due date is May 21, 2018. One month to go.

One more month of preparations.
One more month of pregnancy.
One more month of anticipation.
One more month until we meet baby Lydia Evelyn.

Thank you God.

I do enough thinking about the things I have left to do in the next month, what labor and delivery will be like, or what life will be like when we come home from the hospital. So with this entry I want to prioritize looking in my rearview mirror at what has passed behind me, to share and to celebrate all that God has done in the past eight months.

 

D E S P E R A T E . D E P E N D E N C E .

The Lord has taught me much about myself and my desperate dependence on Him.

After finding out we were pregnant, there was much joy but also much fear. Recently walking through multiple miscarriages with my best friend, I knew that our baby’s health was nothing but guaranteed. Every day was a gift. Some days I would feel cramps or pain, unsure if that was normal or the first sign of loss. Then there was the day I saw spotting of blood while at work. I returned to my office from the bathroom, closed my door, and just cried. After calling my doctor and urgently leaving the office for blood work at the hospital, I began to realize that this was only just the beginning of motherhood. I desperately wanted to take control of keeping this little life safe yet felt utterly helpless in my quest.

Sure, I can avoid certain foods and drinks, take my prenatals and stay active. But ultimately her entire health, her entire life, is in God’s hands. I am desperately dependent, every single day.

For the first trimester, I saw hardly any changes to my body and just felt sick all the time. A few months later I started feeling better, yet still little changes as I passed my 16-week milestone. The fact that I was pregnant became surreal because the initial excitement and announcing the news ended and life was continuing on as normal. The rush of the holidays took over as another semester ended, I turned another year older, and my husband and I started to pack our bags for the drive from Lawrence to spend Christmas in Dallas with family.

While packing for the trip, I was texting a friend who is also pregnant. She had just returned from the hospital after an emergency sonogram revealed a infection in her uterus. I pressed “send” on a text that looked something like:

In the midst of your scare, it’s just a reminder that God is in control.
He has our babies’ days numbered.
They are His.

In that same moment, I felt Lydia kick for the first time! I collapsed on my bed, not out of pain, but out of complete shock. It was as if she was responding by the very same breath:

Mommy.
I am here.
Trust Jesus with my life.

 

J O Y . A N D . R E L I E F .

The next day, Kevin and I loaded our Christmas gifts, our suitcases, and our dog Titan for the trek down to Dallas. To pass the time, I was reading aloud from my Advent Bible Study by She Reads Truth. The devotional was on none other than than the passage from Luke 1:39-45 that surrounds pregnant Mary visiting her pregnant cousin Elizabeth.

In those days Mary arose and went with haste into the hill country, to a town in Judah, and she entered the house of Zechariah and greeted Elizabeth. And when Elizabeth heard the greeting of Mary, the baby leaped in her womb. And Elizabeth was filled with the Holy Spirit, and she exclaimed with a loud cry, ‘Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb! And why is this granted to me that the mother of my Lord should come to me? For behold, when the sound of your greeting came to my ears, the baby in my womb leaped for joy. And blessed is she who believed that there would be a fulfillment of what was spoken to her from the Lord.” (Luke 1:39-45)

For clear reasons, this passage hit me in a whole new way. I thought about pregnant Mary, with the Son of God in her womb, yet the same anticipation, fear, and hope that she was experiencing. As I processed this to Kevin, I felt the fluttering kicks in my own womb for the second time! Lydia again was reminding me that God was in control of her life. Since this time, I experience joy and relief every time I feel her move. I can feel her grow with the passing weeks. Her every move is a gift.

Around 20 weeks, which is exactly halfway through my pregnancy, I had my first sonogram and actually was able to see my baby move. I got to count her fingers and her toes and see the shape of her little tiny body. When the sonogram tech showed the profile of her face, I simply cried. Yet these tears were much different than the fear driven tears I had experienced that day in my office. These were tears of relief. God was finally changing my heart from fear of losing her to hope of her arrival.

 

F E A R . T O . H O P E .

The days that followed included our gender reveal and naming her, which you can read about in my last post: Naming Lydia Evelyn. This was a turning point in pregnancy and God has made His sovereign grace more clear to me with every passing day.

As if there could be any more meaning behind her name, here’s one more: Her name, Lydia Evelyn Tietz, will give her the initials L.E.T.

May her life be a constant reminder to me to
L E T . G O .
of my fears, my inadequacies, and my helpless attempts to take control
and
L E T . G O D .
restore my hope, be my strength, and allow Him to take control.

Since letting go and letting God, trusting Him wholly without fear, He has provided in an abundance of ways. In spite of the busiest time of year for my job, I’ve had family, friends and coworkers absolutely spoil us with baby showers and almost everything we need for Lydia’s arrival! He has provided Kevin and I time to make preparations, take classes at the hospital, and time to enjoy these last few months just the two of us. He continues to provide every day as I watch Lydia grow with each passing week.

With one month left, He has transformed my heart from fear to hope, and showed me more than ever that He, our Creator, is in ultimate control.

And I am sure of this, that He who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ. (Philippians 1:6)