Un-masked

Just wait, this has nothing to do with that kind of mask. I’m not going to get into that. Okay, read on.

For the last few weeks, this place has been filled with inspiration. I have written fluidly and have felt there was real meaning in what I was trying to say. Today I felt I should probably write something.

But what?

I have something important that I’m working on mentally but I’m not quite there yet, so not that.

Anything amusing to talk about? Not really.

I could talk about how I changed my hair colour again (it’s two colours now actually, split right down the middle), but I am so determined not to be shallow. Is it shallow to talk about dying my hair?

Maybe not. What if what should be said is that we really need to start taking off the mask? I wore one for a long time, one of a typical young mother, devoid of personality in what I wore or what I did with my hair or my face. To be clear, my face is still very much bare, but that is a choice I’ve made, rather than a decision based on my desire to look like something I wasn’t.

Listen, I’m not talking about vanity. I’m not talking about self-love in the self-centred way that the world is. I just mean, if the colour red draws you in but someone once told you that you shouldn’t wear it because it was attention grabbing, maybe it’s time to let that go and buy a red sweater. If you’ve always wanted to see what it was like to have pink hair because it just sounds like fun and for goodness sake, it’s just hair, maybe it’s time to go for it, barring any real world/work scenarios where it would be inappropriate to have pink hair.

When I shaved my head, it was a stripping off of one more layer of the mask. It was liberating. And it turns out, my husband actually loves me for me and enjoys watching me change my hair colour every so often (he was the one who shaved my head for me, too). Did everyone around me like that I had done it or approve of it? No, of course not. But that’s not the point.

I think I have been a people pleaser all my life. I did things right, did things well, worried that I wasn’t good enough – constantly – and said yes to things I shouldn’t have out of a sense of obligation. Here’s a heartbreaking thought – it’s likely I didn’t move away or call out for help when being groped by a total stranger in a public hot tub when I was ten because I didn’t want to cause a scene or upset anyone.

What are we saying to ourselves when we continue to wear these masks? What are we saying to God? He made me LOVE colour. I am filled with joy when I can put on a bright green hoodie with a floral print dress or a purple skirt. I buy a white shirt and have to tie dye it (not just because I spill on everything and could never keep a white shirt clean, honestly). So why would I tell myself to buy all black and blue and brown and just blend in with the crowd? I realize some people love the sleek look of all black and good for them! I know people who thrive on a neutral wardrobe. It’s just not me.

These are my thoughts tonight, ones I’ve had before and may have even shared, but maybe they need to be said again. Maybe my tiny bit of bravery will help someone else to pull off the mask they’ve worked so hard to perfect.

Sword in one hand, hammer in the other

For the first time that I can remember, I felt led to a page number in my Bible recently, rather than a book and chapter. Page 444 in my Bible is Nehemiah 4:3-5:7. It was verses 10-23 of chapter four that I felt drawn to, possibly because the title of this section is “Opposition through Discouragement.”

When Nehemiah led the rebuilding of the wall of Jerusalem, much was against him. Threats, rumours, bribery, slander and more were thrown at him and the Israelites building the wall. Here in chapter four, they find discouragement because they expect their adversaries to come and overtake them while they work. Nehemiah has a solution for this and it is one I believe we should pay close attention to right now.

Nehemiah 4:17-18a “They which built on the wall, and they that bore burdens, with those that loaded, every one with one of his hands wrought in (carried on) the work, and with the other hand held a weapon. For the builders, every one had his sword girded by his side, and so built.”

We all have work to do here. This work varies for all of us, beyond the things we are all called to do when we are saved. But how easy it is to get swept up in work – even ministry work – and forget that we have an enemy that prowls about. And how easy it can also be to become overwhelmed and discouraged by that enemy and neglect the work we ought to be doing.

The answer is not one or the other; some believers working and others fighting. The answer is in carrying the tools of work in one hand and the weapons of our warfare in the other.

They had guards and took shifts solely watching and guarding as well but what struck me was that these people were ready for work and war at the same time. Have you forgotten your work while you wage warfare? Or have you forgotten to hold your sword while you get the work done on Earth?

This is a simple concept, probably not very profound, but it meant something to me. My workload feels insurmountable sometimes and so does the state of things in the spiritual, especially right now. Now is the time to ask God what your work is meant to be, which part of the wall are you supposed to be rebuilding, and then remember your sword and keep watch while you build.

Search and Rescue

I had a dream in early July that again, I knew had meaning as soon as I woke up. After sharing it with my church, I knew I wasn’t wrong, but it is probably a hard message for the Church as a whole. I pray it is received with grace.

In my dream, a cousin who lives in the States had a son, around three years old. He and his son were in the backyard together and one minute he was there, the next he was gone. Searches were conducted but everything pointed to an abduction, not a death. One day a month or two later, I received a program in the mail for his funeral – it had his date of birth and the day he disappeared as his date of death. I was angry. I felt like they were giving up hope. I went to the funeral anyway and while I was there, I was in deep intercession for him, praying for his safety and for his return. I prayed in tongues for most of the time and wept as I did so. I seem to remember that people thought I was strange for my behaviour. I am also certain that at the top of the program, it read “social distancing,” as a reminder not to get close to people. I thought about how awful it was that we could not hug people at a funeral.

I believe that this dream is about the Church in North America (and maybe the attitude some have about commerce and the economy as well). Believers have given up hope. We have had things taken away from us suddenly – church and Bible studies one week and the next told that everything is shut down – disappeared. Instead of searching and praying for their return, we are having a funeral – and that without loving each other as we would need in a time like this (social distancing representing lack of unity, distance from each other both literal and figurative). We should be on our faces weeping and praying for the Church but instead we are planning her funeral.

Imagine a large field where a child has wandered off. A search party would line up, nearly shoulder to shoulder, possibly even arm in arm, and comb through that field looking for the child. They would search until they were told they had to stop and even then, experts would come in and look longer. They certainly would never hold a funeral a month later without any evidence that the child had died. There are parents who are still hopeful their son or daughter is alive thirty years after disappearing like this. This is the posture we need to take right now – maybe not literally, but certainly in the Spirit. Hopeful expectation, prayer and fasting, unity in the search.

God has a plan and I know He is making good from what the enemy meant for evil. Will everything look exactly the same when we get it back? Probably not, but let’s not give up, Church. Hold onto hope and keep searching for what He has for us.

Exhort one another daily…

Each morning, I get up, sit on the couch and ask the Holy Spirit to lead me to a passage of Scripture that will benefit me in some way that day. Sometimes I don’t feel a firm response so I read the Proverb of the day or a few Psalms, a chapter in the New Testament, etc. Today I felt led to Hebrews 2 and 3. I often read most of what I feel I should without any major light bulbs only to find a single verse towards the end that is clearly my reason why. This morning, that verse was Hebrews 3:13.

^“But exhort one another daily, while it is called today; lest any of you be hardened through the deceitfulness of sin.” (KJV)

What do most people think when they see the word “exhort?” In the NIV and NASB, this word is instead, “encourage,” but is that really what this word means? Encouraging other people is wonderful and usually fairly easy because it makes everyone feel great. It’s important but it’s not the whole picture.

The Greek word here is parakaléō and in this particular verse, it means “To call upon someone to do something, to exhort, to admonish.” This paints a larger picture than merely encouraging each other.

The Merriam-Webster definition of the word “exhort” is: “To incite by argument or advice, urge strongly; To give warnings or advice, make urgent appeals.” Dictionary.com says exhort means “To urge, advise, or caution earnestly; admonish urgently. To give urgent advice, recommendations or warnings.”

Has anyone ever said something personal to you that stung a little? That you knew was true but was hard to swallow? This may have been an exhortation. Have you ever been instructed in the faith and felt stirred up, even if the instruction feels a bit heavy and serious? This may have been exhortation.

I do not claim to be an expert in this area. In fact, I feel very new to this concept. Christianity is full of wonderful encouragers, and I try to be one as well. I had a brief experience in the store today that showed me clearly the difference between encouraging and exhortation.

There were two young mothers in the store with children, one with a little girl with beautiful short curly hair like Jenny had when she was young. The other had a little girl who was around four or five and a boy probably a year and a half younger. I struck up a short conversation with both women about their children because the first girl reminded me of Jenny and the set of siblings reminded me of Jenny and Elias when they were young. I smiled and did what I could to be uplifting as both looked like parts of their shopping trip with young children were slightly stressful. This was encouragement. When I tell my kids how proud I am of them when they’ve done something good, that is a type of encouragement. But when I show them an area they need to look closely at and make changes in, it is exhortation, or at least my understanding of it. I had that opportunity today as well – something most parents have opportunity for each day.

The second half of this verse is crucial here: “lest any of you be hardened through the deceitfulness of sin.”

Exhortation is not to make you feel bad. Exhortation is to prevent you from being hardened by and tangled up in sin.

I have often struggled with correction. I was the kid who tried so hard to do everything perfectly right so I wouldn’t get in trouble. I didn’t rock the boat in school and have done everything in my power to obey the law. I even signal on country roads when there is no one in front of or behind me for kilometres. When I have faced correction (or possibly exhortation), I have not reacted well. It seems possible that I actually did not receive enough exhortation growing up to become accustomed to it and was actually hardened by the deceitfulness of sin – in this case, fear of failure, fear of man and perfectionism.

In the area of advice, I know many people want to give everybody advice about everything and another group doesn’t want advice from anyone. I have tried to graciously accept advice over time, particularly from people who have more experience than I do in some area. I have also tried to avoid giving advice when I know it is not welcome or when it is actually unnecessary and I’m just trying to toot my own horn. Godly counsel is a great need in the Church, though. Take a look at Proverbs and you will see how important counsel is. Proverbs 11:14 says “Where no counsel is, the people fall: but in the multitude of counsellors there is safety.”

We are often quick to see a financial advisor when we’ve gotten ourselves into trouble with money or we want to secure our future. In school, we see a guidance counselor to help us make decisions about our life or college choices. Many people see counselors in the secular world or use a life coach to get them through trying times. None of these are bad, but we also need sound Godly counsel. This is the job of someone who exhorts.

I aim to take exhortation well in the future and also to do my part to exhort others when I feel led to do so. I believe the Church will benefit greatly when we take this verse and others on this topic more seriously. Yes, please keep encouraging, but don’t forget exhortation.

Starting Over, Again

More than ten years ago, I felt God breathe a word into my heart. That my words would help to revive the spirits of many people. I’ve blogged for a long time, since my kids were little and I still really hated the word “blog” (I’ve come to terms with it since then). Because I didn’t know what the word meant exactly, I floundered. I waited for more explanation, I wrote what I felt like writing but rarely got serious because I just wanted to see the whole picture.

Two years ago, I had a similar experience, feeling God call me to a number of things all at once, writing (and possibly speaking) being one of them. I reacted to this calling in a very similar way: I was confused, overwhelmed, uncertain and clinging to perfectionism that demanded the full picture be visible before I ever started to draw, so to speak.

Last year, I felt a renewal of this calling with more added to it. I started off well in the fall, but yet again, found myself back to square one, unsure, doubting, feeling lost, and still waiting for more – more followers, more comments, more knowledge of what I was supposed to be doing.

Yesterday I heard a very personal message from someone I had just met. She talked about missed opportunities when we disobey or delay our obedience. But instead of drilling in how important obedience is or how much she had missed out on, she focused on the importance of accepting God’s forgiveness and forgiving ourselves. I realized right away that God was using her to speak to me. Reminding me that it wasn’t too late. That it might look different now than it would have ten years ago, two years ago or last year. But that it wasn’t a lost cause and I needed to let go of the perfectionism, turn over a new leaf, forgive myself and move on. I believe that God wants to use me to speak to people. Sometimes I think He just wants me to make them laugh, and honestly, that’s my favourite part. “A merry heart does good like a medicine,” and it is refreshing to me as well as the reader. Other times, I share what is on my heart and hope that it helps someone else to know they aren’t alone, that there is at least one person out there that gets it. Whether that is in relation to parenting, unschooling, the challenges of a big family, etc. I know that someone needs to hear it.

I am sorry if I had something to say that you needed to hear. I am sorry that I allowed perfectionism to speak to me and make me give up when I couldn’t get it all just perfect. It’s a battle I’ve been fighting for a long time and I really want to win. I can’t make promises but I do know that I want to be obedient and I want to follow where the Spirit leads. I have forgiven myself and have talked to a few people about this, hoping for the help of accountability this time around.

I don’t know what the future holds but I do know I cannot be silent when even one person needs to hear my voice. I cannot stand back in doubt or fear when one person needs my prayers for healing. I pray now for grace to continue this task. For a multiplication of time and resources that will allow me to accomplish it.

If you have let something slip by because of fear or disobedience, it’s not too late to change course. The work might look different now – the person who needs prayer, discipleship or encouragement might be someone new – but it’s still worth it. God forgives when we ask Him and so forgiving ourselves is the crucial next step.

The New Normal

Listen, I know you’re likely in one camp or the other: you embrace this term or you reject it. I have swayed back and forth for various reasons, some of which I will explain.

On the one hand, yes, we will have a “new normal” because none of us has ever experienced anything like this. Yes, our oldest generation has gone through worse. I believe that: think of the world wars, the great depression, genocides, etc. But this is different. COVID has happened in an age of information that is historically unrivaled. News travels fast – lightning fast – whether it’s true or not, and often influences so efficiently that if it is later debunked, it is hard for people to believe the actual truth. I believe we also live in a very fearful age. I actually think that safety has ironically made us more fearful. We live so safe and clean and healthy (at least we perceive life to be this way) that we are terrified of a bad cold, needing a few stitches or a surgery, offending people, the list goes on and on. And so this fear fed the narrative – I don’t think you can disagree with this no matter what side you fall in your beliefs about this virus and its socioeconomic effects. And when you have been taught to fear something, it is very hard to walk away from that. Worldwide lockdowns, terminology no one had ever heard before (social distancing, anyone??), confusing science and data have left us in a very different place than we were five months ago. And those living in epicentres or who have lost friends or family members will be scarred and will never go back to the normal they knew before.

On the other hand, I can see that there are freedoms we have given up in the name of health and safety that I still believe we should get back. Using the terminology “new normal” has the potential of convincing people that these freedoms are no longer our right. That we are too vulnerable to stand closer than six feet apart as we might get sick or get someone else sick. That we will accept the prices of groceries that have steeply risen or the extra taxes we’ll inevitably be paying to handle the government financial aid that many of us have received. I know these things are par for the course in the middle of it all but I am concerned that over time, these things will continue even though the virus itself passes. That we will be quick to do things we are told even when they are unreasonable. People aren’t meant to live alone and stay apart. I certainly intend to fight the new normal in that area at least.

So here’s the third perspective. Hopefully a Godly one.

I embrace the New Normal. Not the losses in freedoms or the fear of disease. I wholeheartedly embrace what God has been doing in the Church during this time. I believe that many who were lukewarm have become hot in this time. I know that there will be some who let their love grow cold, and will fall away. I do not deny that. But I feel revival in my heart, in my family, in the Church. I have experienced beautiful community borne out of trial and I don’t ever want to lose that, not to go back to what was “normal” before. I have prayed more, worshiped more, read more of the Word. I am revived, even in the middle of global crisis.

Yes, I still get frustrated. I still feel sorrow over what has transpired, over lives lost or in ruin. I still wonder when it’s going to end. But then I actually didn’t want it to end too soon. I wanted a chance for more of the Church to grab hold of something incredible.

In the first few weeks of lockdowns and health orders, I woke up with part of a song in my head: “You take what the enemy meant for evil, and you turn it for good.” I have tried to make that my anthem for the last few months. No matter what was meant for evil, He can turn it for good.

The provision of God

I have been telling these stories for a long time and in this time of financial insecurity for so many, I want to tell them again. Sometimes I forget just how obvious this provision was at the time but then telling the story reminds me and I am in awe.

Mike and I got married in February of 2004. He was working a pretty good job but when we got home from our honeymoon, he was called to go to camp for a week. Not a great start to a marriage, especially when you add the fact that I had just moved 1,400 kilometres from home and didn’t really know anyone here. He quit that job about a month later because we knew we didn’t want that lifestyle and then we lived off of our savings for a few months, just enjoying our time together and settling in. That summer, he started looking a little harder for a job as the money had nearly run out. He had a few opportunities but took a cash job on trial at an auto body shop. He did detailing on cars for a short time and eventually moved to prep work. At this time, I was surprised we were not expecting yet (because we were not trying to prevent) and started praying more earnestly for a baby. Right around the time that I would have conceived, he got a “real” job for the company and a simultaneous $4 raise. By a year later, he was making $4 more than that per hour and not only did we have enough to provide for the baby that came in June of 2005, but we had enough to buy a home that summer. The timing of everything was just too perfect to call it coincidence.

In January of 2008, we were expecting our third baby and Mike had moved on to another auto body shop where his Dad worked and was even talking about going to school for some certification in body work. He didn’t exactly love the work but he did like the people he worked with and the company took care of their employees. He had only been there for six months when things slowed down and he got laid off. When I think of the year 2008, I think “recession.” It didn’t hit Canada in exactly the same way but I know many people had a hard time. It was early in the year, though, and all I could think was that we didn’t have any substantial savings, had a mortgage to pay and were about to have three kids, three and under. I was shocked and didn’t know what would happen. Mike started looking for work, applied for EI (unemployment) and we listed our ’85 Honda Accord for sale, hoping that would bring in a bit of cash. Not even two weeks into the layoff, we were sitting down with his sister and her husband for supper and talking about Mike’s need for a job when our brother-in-law told us that the small engineering firm he worked for might have a job but it was unlikely that it would interest Mike at all. He started to explain the job to us and rather than finding it off-putting, Mike was intrigued. He got an interview with the owner of the company and then we went on a trip for a conference that we had already had planned months before. I forget the fine details of when things happened, but we definitely got a call when we were in the Edmonton Ikea that they had a job for him and he could start work by the middle of February. Shortly after, our 23 year old car sold for $1,200 – the exact amount of a two week paycheque at that time. Not only was this job a Godsend in timing, it turned out to be something Mike loved and has continued doing for 12 years now, working through a company buy out and a everyone else in the company leaving over time.

Now, 2020 and the COVID crisis. Early this year, we went over our budget and determined that we had around $600 in excess every month if I kept my spending relatively tight. We had changed the way we budgeted and so we could see where money had been wasted or unaccounted for before. We talked about investments or just putting it into savings but in the end, we needed the extra for a few things in January and February so we didn’t make any final decisions about it. In March, we were told that the company would be implementing a 10% wage reduction due to COVID. It wasn’t long before I determined that the difference in wages for us was almost exactly the amount of extra money in our budget. We had never squirreled it away anywhere and so it was just there, available to make up the difference for us.

We have had countless times when God has provided for our needs – both tangible and otherwise. Sometimes these cases of extra provision have been totally obvious. Other times, we have had to look back and realize how incredible they really were. They have all pointed us to a God who knows what we need and has provided.

Psalm 37:25

^“I have been young, and now am old; yet have I not seen the righteous forsaken, nor his seed begging bread.“

Psalm 50:10

^“For every beast of the forest is mine, and the cattle upon a thousand hills.”

Matthew 6:28-32

^“And why take ye thought for raiment? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they toil not, neither do they spin: And yet I say unto you, That even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. Wherefore, if God so clothe the grass of the field, which to day is, and tomorrow is cast into the oven, shall he not much more clothe you, O ye of little faith? Therefore take no thought, saying, What shall we eat? or, What shall we drink? or, Wherewithal shall we be clothed? (For after all these things do the Gentiles seek:) for your heavenly Father knoweth that ye have need of all these things.”

Quiet

This afternoon I was blessed with a rare gift: three kids sleeping at once and five out with Dad sledding for the afternoon. A quiet house.

Rewind. I started a Bible study recently with a small group of moms and had the bright idea to save $5 by buying the Kindle version of the book. The only trouble is that there are a lot of blanks to fill in and questions to answer. A lot. Like, really a lot. So I cheerfully bought a cute journal to write all my answers in. And then waited until the night before our first official meeting to start writing them down and answering questions. I got about three quarters of the way through the first week’s study and quit. Better to have done some than none at all. After that hand cramping experience, I decided I would see if I could print the questions and glue them in the journal so at least I wouldn’t have to hand write everything.

Back to my quiet afternoon. It seemed like the perfect opportunity to deal with this plan and then start working on a bit of the study so as not to repeat last week’s mistake of waiting until the last minute. I made myself a cup of coffee, then sat down, typed up all the questions from week two and printed them out. After cutting two or three out and pasting them into the journal, I promptly went on Amazon and bought the paper copy of the study. Ain’t nobody got time for this.

In between the typing, cutting, gluing and ordering, Lucas decided he wasn’t going to stay asleep. I nursed him while I typed, then put him back in the swing. That lasted long enough to do a bit of the cut and paste before he let me know he wasn’t happy there. Picked him up, gave him a “top up” while ordering the book and put him back again.

Finally, quiet again. But the dog needs to be let out and I’m sure there are things from the freezer downstairs that need to be brought up for the week (yes, there are) and then let the dog back in and feed him and get back to work.

But maybe just having a rest, doing something restful, would be a better use of the quiet. I gave that thought some contemplation but it’s now after four. And Mike and the kids will come back hungry and cold and tired and need supper. I looked at the mess that WILL NOT LEAVE one area of my house and nearly cried. And instead of starting supper, sat down to write.

This is my life. Pretty much every day of my life when I try to do something for myself or something productive that cannot be done while also caring for a child. I can ignore it most of the time, and do, but some days it presents itself as a challenge and makes me question myself. I’d like to think that I could just keep my nose to the grindstone and get through this part of my life and THEN move onto the “important” things like ladies Bible studies and crafts and “quiet time.”

But we’ve all read it in every mom book and blog ever written: this day to day, changing diapers and making meals, is important stuff. I know it in my head but it’s hard to get it into my heart when I find myself essentially out of control again: the house will not stay clean and it’s not just my kids making the mess or I’ve started a project I can’t finish and perfectionism wants to rear its ugly head again and torment me for it.

Two of my kids have come home since I started writing. They went to the big fun sledding hill but weren’t interested in the hills at the elementary school down the road. They scurried off to have their one hour turns on tablets. I probably have half an hour or so until the rest come stomping back in and everyone now sleeping wakes up. I think I’ll lie down and hope to wake up with a little more hope than I have now.

Except before I hit “publish” I was distracted by something and decided to print the questions again with room to write the answers and just cut the paper into four pieces and paste the whole thing into the journal. And also eat something from the freezer because at this point, I’ve conceded that supper is probably a long way off. I guess the good news is that the house is quiet (again/still?).

The Tale of Baby Eight (so far)

In case I haven’t mentioned it, I’m pregnant. Currently 37 weeks, 4 days pregnant. This is baby number eight and this pregnancy has required an incredible amount of faith.

In September of 2016, I was attempting a second VBAC (babies 1-4 all born vaginally, 5 born by (likely) unnecessary cesarean due to breech positioning, 6 VBAC). Labour was dragging on and I finally went in to see if possibly baby was not in the perfect position to be born. He wasn’t – his head was diagonally down but that meant no pressure on my cervix to help with dilation. I was around 1 cm when the obstetrician moved him externally and broke my water, which was heavily stained with meconium. I then spent a few hours labouring before being put on Pitocin to move things along. I was coping well, chatting with my daughter and husband and amazing the nurses with how calm I was. After some time, the nursing staff noticed decelerations in baby’s heart rate and would need me to move positions to get it to come back up to normal. It returned to normal every time but continued to happen in various positions. This, along with the meconium in the amniotic fluid and very slow dilation – I seemed to stall around 6 cm – made them concerned. Finally, close to midnight, the OB came in and decided that this pattern was not indicative of anything positive and we agreed to another cesarean. I was told later that his heart rate was plummeting because he was totally wrapped up in his umbilical cord. I had a hard first day in the hospital and after two nights, when being discharged, I asked the OB how things looked and what his opinion was of my having more children. This was likely a mistake. He had an almost emotional/angry reaction, mentioned a “paper thin uterus” and placenta accreta – a very serious condition that I was completely unaware I had until then, two days after birth. I was crushed. Mike wasn’t with me when this happened, making it even harder to process.

We talked, prayed, cried, talked some more and after a few months decided that we still didn’t feel right about birth control, sterilization, etc. and that we would just trust that if I ever got pregnant again, I would be able to safely carry a child to term. We agreed that it might mean early delivery by c-section, a hysterectomy, etc. but that we were okay with all of that if it came to it. And then we went on with life.

In May of this year, I had a few sudden and unexpected symptoms that led me to believe that I might be pregnant. Trying to avoid being asked if I was pregnant and forced to either tell sooner than I was ready or lie, I didn’t even take a test until I was nine weeks pregnant. By then, it was a formality. We waited until I was thirteen weeks to tell our kids – only three of my friends knew prior to that. I was blessed by an incredibly easy pregnancy through the first and second trimesters and only started to feel *pregnant* close to the third. All through it, I had doctors who thought my chances at VBA2C (vaginal birth after two cesareans) were great. My ultrasound and other things looked totally normal. They treated me just like any other pregnant woman but about two months ago, I was told that hospital policy was being changed to disallow VBA2C in our hospital. Initially I was told that we may be able to go to a hospital two and a half hours away. A month after that, I was told that wouldn’t work, either. So we found an obstetrician in Edmonton – seven hours away from home – who would see me. Two weeks ago, Mike and I flew there on our own for my appointment and a brief kid-free holiday. The appointment was great, we had an ultrasound to look at scar thickness and even got to see a 3D view of our baby’s face. The OB could see no contraindications for me to VBAC again and was very happy with everything he could see. It was a very nice time for us and we came home refreshed and with instructions to come back at 38 weeks.

As of right now, our plan involves staying here and praying hard that this baby will come too quickly for intervention and will be born locally. We have one week for this to happen. If it does not, we will drive to Edmonton on the 2nd of January (a few days after 38 weeks) and stay in a guest house for eight days. If baby doesn’t come by then, we’ll find somewhere else to stay if needed. The OB there is comfortable giving me until 42 weeks which means we could be there for four weeks. This is not at all what we want so we continue to pray for early delivery. But if it takes all of that, it will be worth it. There are many complications that come from repeat cesareans and we have no intention of changing our lifestyle or convictions to prevent future pregnancies. Every day requires faith and the situation honestly feels like a choose your own adventure that we are a part of but not in control of. I have felt a conviction to leave things alone and not do anything to try to induce labour, mess with baby’s position, etc. which requires even more faith.

Every day we give the baby a pep talk and encourage it to come, we pray for delivery to come soon, and I pray for relief from the symptoms of late pregnancy that have made movement, sleep, etc. difficult for me lately. And we remind ourselves not to lean on our own understanding but to look to God to sustain us and make straight our path. We know He will do this and that the outcome will be His plan for us.