*****

It all started over the summer.  I was getting Annelise and I ready for church because Royce left early to lead worship.  The phrase “getting Annelise and I ready” sounds so simple, but at this stage it’s definitely not.  She’s at that awkward age where she won’t be confined to a play device anymore, but she’s not old enough to be trusted on her own.  So I was hugely pregnant and had to wrestle every bathroom item away from her as I strategized in my head how to shower, get ready, get her ready and get out the door.

By the time we left (late of course), I was so frustrated.  Mad even.  I had this dialogue in my mind the whole way to church.  ”There is no way I can do this.  I’m exhausted before I’ve even left the house.  Royce just can’t lead worship at church anymore.  Not during this season.  It’s just too hard.”  I got to church, dropped Annelise off at childcare and walked into the service partway through the songs my husband was leading.  I settled into my seat and looked around.  At all the people in our church being led in worship by my husband.

And God said to me, very gently and very kindly, “Liz, he can’t do this if you don’t do that.”  

And I started to cry.  One, because honestly I was kind of mad.  This wasn’t what I signed up for.  I wanted to be noticed and appreciated.  No one will ever come thank me for getting our kids ready for church (and putting make up on, no less) so that my husband can lead worship.  

I also cried because I knew that God was right.  My husband is an extremely gifted worship leader.  I would say he’s one of the best.  God could have knocked me down in my pride and frustration and sin.  But instead, He gently asked me to bend my knee in humility.  To serve my family so that His bride could be served by my husband.

He asked me to bend lower.

******

I read a blog (http://kissesfromkatie.blogspot.com) about a 22 year old missionary to Uganda named Katie.  She has adopted 13 little girls and is raising them on her own.  She is an incredible servant.  One day in June, she wrote a post about bending low and meeting Jesus.  That we become more like Him as we serve.  

She said, “I bend to sweep crumbs and I bend to wipe vomit and I bend to pick up little ones and wipe away tears. I bend over a big pot of stew and I bend to fold endless laundry and I bend over math books and spelling sentences and history quiz corrections. And at the end of these days I bend next to the bed and I ask only that I could bend more, bend lower.  Because I serve a Savior who came to be a servant. He lived bent low. And bent down here is where I see His face.” 

God put words to the feelings I had been having.  

Motherhood is an inherently selfless venture.  You give up all control–when you eat, when you sleep, when you go the bathroom, what your agenda for each day contains.  You must stop stirring the soup because you must bend down to pick up the little one clamoring for your attention.  You must get on your knees every night to check for toys and other treasures under your couch.  You must fold endless piles of tiny clothes.  You must get out of your warm bed on a cold night to feed a baby who needs you.  Don’t get me wrong, there is great joy in the venture, but it is a daily dying to yourself for the sake of another.  

A daily bending lower.

*****

I read another blog (http://sammyadebiyi.com/blogs/sammy-adebiyi/wait).  My good friend Sammy talks about his dreams when he was younger of being the youngest, most anointed preacher in the world.  I think back to what some of my early dreams as a Christian were…

I wanted to be the next Beth Moore.  I wanted to speak to crowds of thousands of women and tell them about Jesus.  It sounds very noble, and I’m sure the fruit of a ministry like that would have been enormous.  But as I remembered this dream, I had this thought, “That would have been cool, but I think what I’m doing right now is making me a lot more like Jesus.  I might have been able to tell more people about Him, but I think this (daily serving) is making me more like Him.”

So I bend lower.

*****

I’ve wrestled for a long time with the passage in scripture where Jesus talks about feeding the hungry and giving water to the thirsty and visiting those who are sick and in prison.  I’ve battled because honestly, I just don’t see those people in my everyday life here in Cincinnati.  I was afraid God would one day look at me and tell me that I didn’t serve the “least of these”. 

I asked God over and over what to do.  I know we can (and do) give our money.  But I felt frustrated.  What was I to do?  Load my girls up in the van every day and drive to downtown Cincinnati and see if I can find some people who seem hungry and thirsty and give them some food?  That’s a grand idea, but I can barely make it to Target.  I don’t think a trip downtown would be very practical in my day to day life.

Then, one day, God told me to look closer to home.  And I saw it.  It’s not very glamorous, but I have two little people for whom I meet every need they have every day.  When they are hungry, I feed them.  When they are thirsty, I give them something to drink.  When they are sick, I look after them, even in the wee hours of the morning.  They are my “least of these” right now.  I get to serve Jesus when I serve them.  

The privilege of bending lower.

*****

I still forget a lot.  I look at the Lord and grumble and complain.  I beg Him for more sleep.  I resist the serving.  I try to maneuver my life in such a way that my needs get met.  I run from the responsibility of living out the Gospel in my home.  It’s too hard sometimes.  But still, when I look to the Lord and stop complaining for a moment and listen, He whispers to me, “Bend lower, Liz.  It’s worth it.”  He reminds me because He loves me.  He reminds me because He wants me to be more like Him.  He reminds me because those who are last will be first.  He reminds me because those who are great in His kingdom are those who serve…those who bend.  And I, well, I want to be great.

So I bend.

Happy birthday little girl!  You are growing up so fast.  Momma can hardly believe it.  You’re like a real little person now, not at all like a baby anymore.  Two years ago today, you made me a mom, and I’m ever so grateful to have you in my life.

You’re doing so many fun things right now.  You’re talking to us ALL. THE. TIME.  You learn new words almost daily.  You say mommy, daddy, help, up, down, off, bite, sister, yeah, no, please, amen, poop, meow, dog, baaaa.  I could go on.  I’m so proud of all the words you’re saying now.  And a bit relieved.  Just a couple months ago, I called a friend who is a speech therapist to ask her about you.  I was starting to get worried that you weren’t talking enough.  You would only say two words at a time.  You would say them all the time for a couple of weeks and then you’d retire them and work on a couple new words.  Now, you’re finally bringing some of those words out of retirement, and Mommy is breathing a sigh of relief.

It’s really fun for me to be able to talk to you and understand you and see you see the world.  I love driving in the car with you.  You’ll be sitting quietly or singing and then you’ll shout out something you see.  ”Dog!” “Slide!”  I’m looking forward to sharing more and more of these little moments with you.  Moments where we really understand one another and can interact with the world together.

You are also such a big helper to Mommy right now.  You throw things in the trash for me.  You bring me the wipes when it’s time to change your sister.  You carry your own bag when we go places and walk very nicely with me, holding hands in the parking lot.  You help put toys away.  You bring your sister her binky or a toy when she starts to get fussy.

You are a very loving big sister.  Sometimes your love for your sister can be a little over zealous or misguided, but you definitely want to love her and help take care of her.  You sit by her and put your arm around her to read at night.  You run to tell me “Sister cry” when she is sad.  You insist on helping sister roll over when maybe she doesn’t need help with that…

You are an equally good momma to your babies.  You carry them around, snuggle them, walk them in their stroller, lay them down, cover them up.  You tell me when they cry and bring me diapers when they poop.  You have also seemed to name all of them “Sister”.  I feel so proud of the way you care for them.  I pray for you often that you will grow up to be an includer and love others well – with the same kind of love you show your babies now.

As good as you are most of the time, you definitely have your toddler moments.  The other day you laid on the kitchen floor sobbing and kicking the floor because I wouldn’t let you play with the dishwasher.  I’ll be honest, I really don’t know how to best handle these displays of emotion.  So I videotaped you and sent it to your dad.  I’m sure you’ll be happy to watch that back some day

Every day that hour before dinner is a rough time of day.  You’re hungry and needy and I have to be in the kitchen cooking.  Usually Daddy can distract you so I can cook.  I’ve thought several times about putting up a baby gate so you can’t get in the kitchen during this time.  But, I don’t know…I guess when you think back to when you were a kid, I don’t want your memories of me in the kitchen to be of me trying to keep you out.  I’m trying to think of ways you can help me more because you love to be my little helper.

Your personality is evolving more and more.  You are active and hands on.  You love to climb things…especially Daddy.  The two of you wrestle and tickle and play on the ground every day, and you just laugh and laugh.  You are very wary of strangers and give them the stare down, but around people you know well, you are a ham – the center of attention.  You love to look at books and point out all the things you know.  If you do something that makes me laugh, you will do it again and again and again.  Even if it’s borderline dangerous.  You sing in your bed.  You play hard and sleep hard.  You are an early to bed, early to rise kind of girl.  You have no fear.  I love your bigger than life personality.

I want you to know on your second birthday, my dear Annelise, that I love you more than I ever could have imagined.  Being your mom has been the greatest joy, the most humbling privilege of my life.  Even on the longest of days, I wouldn’t trade a second of it for life before you.  You have added life to my life.  You have multiplied my love.  You have deepened my understanding of the Father’s love.

I love you forever.

Momma

I’m sitting on our couch tonight, snuggling with you in my lap, and I think it’s time for your first letter. You must be laying with me as I write tonight because as content as you are to spend a lot of your day in your bouncy seat while I run around taking care of your big sister, evenings are our time together.  We lay on the couch together and keep each other warm.  It’s one of my favorite parts of the day…the few hours I get to have with just you–getting to know you, paying attention to you and trying to figure you out.

Thus far in your little life, you have lived up to your name.  You are a beauty and a total source of joy.  You are hands down the easiest baby I’ve ever known.  You are just happy – All. The. Time.  You rarely cry, and if you do, it’s more like this cute little squak.  You’ve gotten really worked up a couple of times, but generally if you are fed and warm, you are totally content.  Also, you have the sweetest little smile and you’ve started making little noises.  Needless to say, they melt my heart.

I have to say that we were pretty surprised to get such a fair, almost blonde baby.  With blue eyes that don’t appear to be changing anytime soon.  I prayed long before we ever had kids that God would give us one baby with light eyes.  It now appears that we’re 2 for 2 on blue eyes, which just makes me laugh in light of how dominant your father’s features are.  And as much as Annelise looks like him in almost every way, I think you’re going to be a mini-Mommy.  You look just like my baby pictures, and it delights me to have a daughter who might take after me.

Significant memories from your first couple months…

…You rolled over yesterday!  From your belly to your back.  At about two and a half months.  Maybe you’re motivated to get moving quickly from fear of your older sister and what she might do to you.  Whatever the motive, your daddy and I were very proud of you.

…You were a good eater and a good sleeper from day one.  Daddy once called you a “workhorse” when eating.  He was right.  When you are eating, nothing distracts you.  Not even your sister poking your eye or sitting on you.

…Speaking of your sister, she loves you.  A lot.  A little over zealously at times.  She goes from getting as close as she can to you and saying, “Hi Baby!” to tickling your belly.  From tickling your belly to tickling your head.  From tickling your head to hitting your head.  She was also the cause of the early loss of your umbilical cord stump.  You tolerate her very well though.  I pray for the two of you, that you will love each other and grow up being the best of friends.

…The first couple months of your life, you had what I’ll call a “goopy eye”.  It was a blocked tear duct, and no matter what I did, it didn’t get better.  In fact, it just kept getting worse.  Your eye would be sealed shut sometimes because of all the goop.  Finally, one night, your daddy and I prayed for it.  And I do not say this lightly, but little girl, God healed your eye.  The next day, your eye was fine and has been fine ever since.  You were healed.  Because He loves you so much that He cared that your eye was goopy and sore, and He made it better when we couldn’t.

Becoming a mom of two hasn’t been a totally easy transition for me.  I feel guilty.  A lot.  Either I’m paying too much attention to you and not enough to your sister.  Or vice versa.  Or I’m paying attention to both of you and not getting anything done around the house.  It can be frustrating, but I’m learning and growing through it.

Having you has actually taught me more about unconditional love and maybe a little bit more about the way God loves me (which is really hard for Mommy to understand most of the time).  You see, on the longest days when I feel I’ve neglected you the most, whenever I slow down and look at you and say hi to you, you smile at me with the biggest grin.  And you talk to me.  You still love me, even when I haven’t been the mommy I want to be.  And to think that God loves me and that God loves you a little like that, even on our worst days… I am so thankful for that.

So, little one, thanks for being a source of joy for us.  We delight in you.  I can barely remember what life was like before you were in it.  It wasn’t as good as it is now, that’s for sure.  You’re my little girl.  My Maribelle Joy.  Daddy’s MJ.  Our workhorse.  We love you.

Momma

37 week appointment–I saw our FAVORITE doctor, Dr. Wurzbacher, who delivered Annelise for us and was just overall awesome.  I asked her a lot of questions about the possibility of inducing.  She said that medically there was no reason not to with a second pregnancy if the first was a “normal” delivery with no complications.  She assured me that, unlike the first, with the second baby, the risk of C-section is not any higher with induction of labor.  She did say of course that we would lose the romantic story of not knowing when our baby would arrive.  I left the office after finding out who was on call at the hospital each day for the week after I hit 39 weeks.

Royce and I talked about this option a lot.  We went back and forth several times.  I honestly was so done being pregnant.  I was just in pain all the time and was exhausted from carrying so much extra weight and chasing Annelise all over the place every day.  But we both really liked the idea of our little girl surprising us with her arrival.  After a lot of deliberation, we decided to schedule an induction for September 9th.  Our second choice of doctor was on call that day, and our first choice was only on call on September 11th so we thought that Friday, the 9th would be perfect.

38 week appointment–I went to the doctor.  No progress towards labor.  The doctor I saw guesstimated that this baby would weigh about the same as Annelise.  And in light of how big Annelise ended up being (8 pounds, 12 ounces), she said it could be wise to be induced.  When I left the office, I scheduled our daughter’s birth with the receptionist.  The only glitch was that September 9th would not work.  The hospital was already booked.  So, I did the next best thing and chose to go with our favorite doctor and deliver our baby on September 11th (all the while hoping we would actually go into labor on our own before that).

Royce and I had already decided that we would only tell our immediate family and our staff team about the induction and date.  We made this choice for two reasons.  One: we wanted people to still be surprised when Maribelle came.  And two: we didn’t really want to hear people’s opinions about inductions or about our daughter’s birth date.  We knew we were making the best choice for our family, and I felt so relieved to have an “end date” in mind.  It made dealing with the day-to-day aches and pains so much more manageable.

39 week appointment–I mostly spent this week convincing myself that my water was going to break and then convincing myself that no, it was never going to break and that this baby did not ever want to meet us.  I saw another doctor this week who guessed the baby would weigh 8 pounds, 2 ounces.  Haha.  I must carry babies in such a way that no one has any idea how large they are because Maribelle definitely surpassed everyone’s expectations as far as size goes.

The Belly (with over 3 weeks to go)

September 11, 2011.  Royce and I got up at 5:00 am after barely sleeping the night before.  My parents had come on Saturday to stay with Annelise while we were at the hospital.  One cruel thing about knowing when you’re going to have your baby is then also knowing when you are spending the final time with your firstborn.  I sobbed when we put Annelise to bed on the 10th.  I don’t know if I can explain it, but I just felt so inadequate as her mom.  I knew that her whole world would be changing and that I couldn’t explain it or prepare her for it.  Plus, I loved our little family of three, and part of me was really, really scared that I was going to ruin it by bringing home another person (spoiler alert: it hasn’t been ruined, only made all the more wonderful).

Our Last Family of Three (four including Sunny) Photo

We showered, got ready, and headed to the hospital.  We checked in and went to our birthing suite, where I got the standard IV and contraction/baby monitors strapped on.  It was all kind of surreal.  We kept looking at each other, like “Is this really happening?”  We put SportsCenter on the tv because all the stations were re-playing footage from the terrorist attacks from 10 years prior.  Although we wanted to remember and honor that, we knew that for our family, from 2011 forward, September 11th would be Maribelle’s day.  A day of joy and celebration.

The nurse started pitocin around 7:30 am, and Royce and I just kind of hung out while it did it’s job.  Labor wasn’t too bad, and we were enjoying ourselves.  My water broke around 10:00 am, and the contractions started getting more and more intense.  I thought, “No big deal.  I’ll just get an epidural, and everything will be fine.”  So I asked for the epidural, and they came in and gave it to me.  And it did help, but I was still in quite a bit of pain, mostly from the pressure of Maribelle moving down.

Enjoying my popsicle, pre-epidural

The next few hours were intense and hard.  I had to breathe through every contraction.  It was NOTHING like labor with Annelise.  With her, once I got the epidural, I felt nothing until after I had been pushing for a while.  This time, I was just in pain.  We found out partway through that Maribelle was facing up instead of down so we had to do some moves to try to turn her.  We had people praying because the nurse warned that if she was still face up, pushing would be a lot harder.  I did not want pushing to be harder because I pretty much knew that I could not repeat what I did with Annelise.  The prayers worked because Maribelle did flip before it was time to push.

The pinnacle of pain came when I called the nurse to tell her that it was time to start pushing.  She called my doctor and couldn’t get in touch with her (she was doing rounds on a floor that had no phone reception).  We waited and waited.  The nurse told me that she could either up my epidural dose (which could also make pushing harder/longer) or we could wait a few more minutes for the doctor.  I chose the latter, but I will say that if there is anything more painful than pushing, it is not pushing when your body is ready.

Finally, Dr. Wurzbacher arrived, and we got started.  I only pushed for 45 very intense minutes.  I don’t remember much from this time.  I remember asking Royce to move the curtain so I couldn’t see the clock.  I remember knowing it was getting close to the end as Royce updated me on how much of Maribelle’s head he could see.  And the next thing I remember is the doctor laying this sweet little baby on my chest.  She was beautiful.  I remember worrying that she wasn’t crying enough (no fears, she was).  I remember thinking that they were letting me hold her for a long time before cleaning her up, and I was really thankful.

Me and my girl

The nurse then took her away to be cleaned and weighed.  I kept reminding Royce to get the camera.  He made me guess how much she weighed.  I had no idea.  Then, he proudly announced, 9 pounds, 7 ounces.  I couldn’t believe it.  Of course, it made the pregnancy make more sense.  No wonder I was so uncomfortable!

Then, Royce, dad of two, delivered our new baby to me, mom of two, and we all got acquainted.  The little life that we first learned about on January 6th was here in our arms.  At 2:06 pm on September 11, 2011.  Maribelle Joy Baker, the newest little love our lives.

Daddy's Girl

Mommy's Girl

I’ve been meaning to write each of you for a while now.  Your own separate letters with all my thoughts and feelings and all the details of your little worlds right now.  Instead, I’m finally sitting down less than a week before my due date and writing a combined letter because luckily your daddy reminded me that I needed to do it.  So much for setting the bar high for you girls, huh?  I guess it’s probably best that you get used to an imperfect world now since I am certainly not a perfect mother.

Annelise, you are a little fireball.  I love it.  You are 19 months old, and you are so much fun on most days.  Although your non-stop energy and desire to explore wear me out on most days, I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

You love to climb things.  Anything.  You are constantly being told, “Annelise, no climb.”  The thing is that you’re actually pretty good at it and rarely fall.  You climb up the side of your high chair, lay sprawled out across the top of it before somehow getting your legs down into the right spot.  I picked you up from the nursery at MOPS the other day, and you were standing on top of a tricycle.  You scale the tall stools at the Berg’s house as if they’re nothing.  You are fearless.

You talk and sing a lot although Mommy and Daddy still can’t understand most of it.  You understand us though.  We can say almost anything to you, and you know exactly what we’re talking about.  You follow directions really well, and you love to help us with things.  The things you say the most right now are “Hi–eeee”, “Thank you”, “Here you go”, and “Mama”.  You also sing the tune to the ABCs a lot, and you sort of say “One, two, three”.  Okay, you make the noises for “One, two, three” even though the sounds aren’t quite right.

Mommy made Daddy a book for his 30th birthday, asking people to write him letters.  In one of the letters, his aunt described him as the “sweetest but busiest kid” she knew.  That. Is. You.  You are your father’s daughter in so many ways.  You love to go, go, go.  If you are awake, you are on the move.  You do not snuggle with us.  You would much rather fill your Little Tikes grocery cart with toys, move them across the house, take them all out, and then put them back in the cart to tote off to another location.  But you are as sweet as can be.  In the mornings, Daddy gets you out of bed and brings you to our room where you always greet me with an enthusiastic “Hi–eeee” before walking over to Sunny’s crate, letting him out, and giving him a hug/tackle.

Mommy is really excited for you to become a big sister.  You love babies, even though you can still get a little rough with them.  You especially like pointing at their eyes and saying, “Eye”.  That makes you very proud and Mommy very nervous.  Even though I’m really excited, I’m a little sad that I’m going to lose the one-on-one time we’ve had together.  You’re just my little buddy who runs errands with me, eats lunch with me and just tags along wherever I go.  I know that our outings and time together will get a little more complicated once your little sister arrives.  I’m beyond thankful for the quality time that we’ve had together, sweet one.  You made me a mommy, and I am forever grateful for that.

Baby Girl #2, little sister, we are so beyond ready to meet you.  We already know you are part of our family, and we just can’t wait to get you out in the world to snuggle and love.  I’m dying to see what you look like.  No pressure, but I really, really, really want you to have hair.  We had to deal with a LOT of “What a cute little boy” comments with your sister.  And there is no non-awkward way to correct that.  I also can’t wait to see what your personality is like.

The last trimester of this pregnancy with you has been hard, and I am anxious for it to be over.  The circumstances were just not ideal…we were in Chicago and then had to drive to Colorado and were sleeping on uncomfortable beds all summer long.  And the heat of the summer combined with the non-stop motion of your sister wore me out.  The last month, every day has felt like I was running a marathon.  I’ve cried a lot.  You have been slightly unkind to my bladder.

But, I think the hardest thing about waiting this time versus with your sister is that this time I know everything is so much better when you’re on the outside instead of the inside.  Sure, we won’t get to sleep much and will probably be slightly shocked at all the work that comes with having a newborn AND a toddler.  But none of that will really matter because we’ll also get to have you.  Every single day since I hit the 38 week mark (the point where you officially became a freeloader), I’ve been praying that I would go into labor.  I keep expecting my water to break (mostly because that is how labor started with your sister).  Every day that it doesn’t is a little disappointing, but we are trusting God that He will bring you at just the right time.

I hope you know how much we love you.  I am in awe that we get to have another daughter.  Every time I see a baby, I pray to the Lord, “I can’t believe we get to have another one.”  You are a gift.  I don’t deserve you.  I am humbled that I get to be your mom.

Now, please come soon so I can pat that little butt you keep sticking out my right side in person instead of through my uterus.

I love you girls more than you will ever know.

Your momma

Today, I had a really vivid dream that we were having a girl.  I woke up and thought, “I have to call my mom and tell her we’re having a girl.  I can’t believe I forgot to tell her.”  Then I remembered that our appointment is tomorrow.  Royce came home from campus today and said he had a feeling that we’re having a girl too.  Which is really funny because for the past 19 weeks, we’ve both been 99% certain we’re having a boy.  I guess we’ll be surprised either way tomorrow!

I’ve been “sure” almost from day one that we’re having a boy…this pregnancy has been so different from my one with Annelise.  Plus, I’ve just had this feeling…the “it’s a boy” feeling.

The first trimester this time around was rough.  Similarly to last time, I felt nauseous 24/7.  And also similarly, I never threw up (except one time when I had the flu and one time when I cleaned out a sippy cup filled with rotten milk…ewww).  But the constant nausea this time around made me want to eat ALL THE TIME.  With Annelise, I had to force myself to eat.  This time, I had cravings.  Like for McDonald’s chicken nuggets.  I couldn’t stop thinking about them.  I only indulged a couple times, and oh, they were so good when I did.  The ironic thing is that even though I ate way more this time around, as of 16 weeks, I hadn’t gained any weight this pregnancy, even though I started showing much earlier.  Oh pregnancy and all its quirkiness.

It was exhausting going through the first trimester tired phase while trying to keep up with Annelise and her needs.  There were literally days where I thought there was no way I could ever be pregnant again.  It was just so hard.  I didn’t get anything done.  I mostly laid on the couch all day every day.  Then, FINALLY, around 14 weeks, I magically started to feel better.  It should be noted that I started feeling normal at 10 weeks last time so those 4 extra weeks of nausea and fatigue were not the most fun I’ve ever had (I think Royce would agree).

But you know what’s funny about pregnancy?  I’ve already “forgotten” all of that.  I daydream about having more kids.  My “I’ll never do this again” attitude is all but gone.

Probably because second trimester has been soooo easy.  I have no symptoms (except the whole baby on the bladder thing), and I’ve felt the baby moving pretty consistently for a while now (so fun).  Royce got to feel it for the first time last night.  It was awesome.  I think this baby is slightly less stubborn than our first born.  She stopped kicking whenever Royce tried to feel her move.  This little one let Daddy in on the action.  Now, I have energy most days.  I’m not uncomfortable yet.  It is just really great.  This is the point of pregnancy where I think, “I could do this 100 times.”

I can’t wait to find out what we’re having tomorrow, and I’m praying that our baby won’t be too modest and will let us in on the secret.  I think pregnancy starts to feel much more real to me once I know what we’re having.  This is when I start thinking of names and organizing clothes and daydreaming about nursery decorations.  This is when I’ll start writing letters to #2.  This is when we find out how the Baker family will shape up–two daughters or one of each.  We’ll be thrilled either way…

1:15 pm:  I pee.

1:35 pm:  I pee.

1:50 pm:  I pee. (I haven’t even had that much water today, why do I have to pee so much?)

2:00 pm:  I pee.

2:20 pm:  I pee.

2:21 pm:  I text Royce, “I’ve been peeing every ten minutes today.  I think I’m pregnant, haha.”

He texts back asking me if I want him to pick up a pregnancy test on his way home.  I respond, “Sure.  But only if you want to.”

I can’t explain it, but I KNEW that I was pregnant.  There was no doubt in my mind.  Royce said that he knew too.  And at about 5:30 pm, I peed again (this time on a stick).  The plus sign was visible before I even finished.

It wasn’t the first time since having Annelise that we thought we might be pregnant again.  I’d probably taken 4 pregnancy tests over the previous months.  But this time was different.  Even though I thought I was having symptoms other times, I didn’t really think I was pregnant.  This time I knew.  Because of excessive urination.  Pregnancy is such a funny thing.

Since I hadn’t been keeping track of my cycles, I didn’t know when we conceived.  I had to go in for blood tests the following week to make sure my hormones were multiplying correctly.  Of course, they didn’t raise as much as they should have between the first two tests.  I felt so sick.  I thought for sure something was going to go wrong.  Once you’ve had one miscarriage, it just never leaves you.  I don’t think it matters how many healthy pregnancies I have.  That one baby we lost will forever shape my feelings during those first fragile weeks of pregnancy.

I went in for a third blood test, and the numbers were much better this time around.  We could breathe a sigh of relief, rejoice a little bit, and sit and wait for our six week ultrasound to confirm a heartbeat.

January 20, 2011

Royce and I went to the doctor to (hopefully) see the little flicker on the screen, representing our baby’s heartbeat.  I was so nervous.  The ultrasound began.  I saw the amniotic sac, but at first I didn’t see anything in it.  Then, in the corner, I could see the beat, beat, beat of our baby’s heart.  Royce and I both cried.  Again, tears of joy.

*****

We are so excited to welcome another little one into our family.  This baby is due on September 15th.  We have loved being parents to Annelise, and we hope another one will just multiply the love in our family.  There are fears that I have for sure.  There are days that I wonder, “How on earth are we doing to do this?”  But mostly, I am just really, really excited to have another blessing added to our family.  Another little bundle to snuggle.  Another little life to worry about, wonder over and dream for.  Another little person to love.  (And we already do, Baby Baker.  We already do.)

She’s done with the elephant and moves on to another toy.  Something in me feels so proud of her.  But also a little sad.  Because you see, soon she won’t need to bring me the elephant.  She’ll know how to work it all by herself.  She won’t need me.  And the thing is I think that sometimes I want her to need me.  Maybe I even need her to need me.

And this I think is going to be the internal battle of my life as a mom for many years to come.  I want my daughter to be independent and learn new things and master skills.  I am beyond proud of her when she does.  It is so exciting to see her learn something for the first time.  And yet, with each new milestone, I feel like it’s one more step to her needing me less.

This weekend is going to be a very big milestone in my choosing to let my baby go a little bit.  She is going to spend the night at my mom and dad’s house so Royce and I can have some uninterrupted packing time to get ready for our move.  I. Am. Terrified.  Not because I’m not 100% confident in my parents’ ability to love my child and keep her alive for 24 hours, but because I’m giving up a little bit of control of her little life.  I’m acknowledging that maybe she doesn’t need me all the time.  Maybe she’ll be okay.

And maybe I will be okay too.  Maybe I will cry for 24 hours straight.  Maybe I will call at least 10 times.  But maybe I will enjoy sleeping in.  Maybe I will actually get a lot accomplished.  One thing that I know definitely is that reuniting with her will be my favorite part of the week.

And in the meantime, I will treasure the moments when she brings me her shape sorter to help her figure it out. Because *that* toy is going to take a while to master.

Sweet one, I’m very sorry that I haven’t written to you in a little while.  You see, I had grand ideas and seemingly lots of material with Christmas and your first birthday and all.  But then January and February turned out to be a very rough season in the life of our family.  You and I went back and forth being sick and spent weeks cuddling on the couch.

Mommy got the flu.  You got an ear infection.  I got a cold.  You got roseola.  And then another ear infection.  (Oh yeah, and I got nausea from being pregnant with your little brother or sister, but that’s a story for another day).  So yes, it hasn’t been the most fun season.  Mommy struggled A LOT with not “getting anything done” while we were sick.  It was hard to not do the things I normally do for our family.  To not get through my to do list.  Or even have the energy to make a to do list a lot of days.

But I’m thankful.  I’m thankful that you’re teaching me to let go of my plans.  To find my identity not in what I can accomplish, but in Christ.  It’s a difficult lesson, but one that I needed to learn (and one that I’m sure I’ll need to re-learn lots of times in my life. Old habits tend to die hard).

In spite of all the yuckiness, there have been some wonderful things about the last couple months.  Your first Christmas was SO fun.  You even helped “unwrap” some of your gifts.  It was awesome to see you discover new toys and to figure out how they work.  You are so smart!  You know just what buttons to push on your toys to make them light up and make noises.

Your favorite toys right now are your Dora the Explorer guitar and your horse.  They both play music, and you love to press the buttons and dance to the songs.  You’ve got some good moves girl!  Whenever you dance, you look at me like, “Come on, Mom.  It’s time to dance.  Get moving!”  I of course always oblige and dance with my girl.  Those are my favorite moments of the day.

Your first birthday was also pretty great.  We had a party with many of your family and friends.  You begged food off Grandpa, unwrapped some presents, ate your first cupcake, threw up on your tutu and got cute pictures on the couch with your buddies Eli and Owen.  I still can’t believe that you’re a year old already!  It seems like just yesterday that we were swaddling you up at night and waking up for night-time feedings.  Now you’re our big girl, sleeping with a pillow and blanket.  Time.  Just.  Flies.

Annelise, you have such a wonderful personality.  The more I know you, the more I like you.  You are at times shy and other times very brave.  You love to smile and laugh, but you can also give a mean stare down to people you don’t recognize.  You love it when Daddy, Sunny and I are all home.  You bring books over to me all the time, but get frustrated when I try to read them.  You fling yourself back and go dead weight when you’re not getting your way.  You are endlessly entertained by light switches.  You love fruit.  You do not love vegetables.  You can be uninhibited in your affection although you’re not really a cuddler.  You are very chatty over dinner.  You love splashing in the bathtub (and getting Mommy wet).  You are not crazy about getting your hands washed after you put them in toilet water.  Little girl, I just love who you are.  I get excited to think about who you may become.  And no matter what, I’ll love you like crazy.

As we prepare for Baby #2, I want to soak you in as much as possible.  This is the last time in our lives that we’ll have one child.  We know that having another will multiply the love in our family, but I want to savor you while I can.  Let’s have some fun together over the next few months, okay?

You’re my girl, and I love you.

Mama

Mommy is in denial.  There is no way you’re eleven months old.  You simply cannot be one month shy of a year.  Nope, it’s not possible.  I refuse to believe it.  Because you see, you are my baby.  But then…I see you standing in our living room in your blue jeans and puffy pink winter coat, and think, “Who is that little girl standing over there?”

I vaguely remember people telling me to treasure time with you because you wouldn’t stay little forever.  I remember hearing adults my whole life talking about how fast time flies.  Now, I guess I am an adult because I totally get what they were talking about!  I desperately try to enjoy moments with you because I know now that you won’t in fact be my baby forever and that time does fly by at lightning quick speed.

The last few months with you have seriously been so much fun.  You are hilarious.  You talk all the time.  You smile and laugh a lot.  You hold blankets up in front of your face and then pull them down to play peek a boo with us.  You’ve started giving Mommy “kisses”.  At least, that’s my best guess as to what you’re doing.  You open your mouth and divebomb my face.  So I think you’re definitely kissing me…otherwise, you’re just a very strange child.

You took your first steps this month.  You shuffled your little feet without holding onto anything for the first time on Tuesday, November 30th.  And it seemed like within a few days, you were just walking everywhere.  It was crazy how fast you picked it up.  You do still crawl sometimes, especially if you want to get somewhere really fast (like, for example, to Sunny’s food bowl), but you just walk around our whole apartment now like it ain’t no thing.

All four of your top teeth came in this month.  At the same time.  Honestly, you took it like a champ.  I didn’t even notice you being fussy or sleepless.  Although you look so sweet with your little teeth, Mommy does not appreciate the way you use them during feeding time.  Let’s just say I’ve been threatening you with premature weaning recently.  Ahem.

I’ve been sorting through pictures of you from the past 11 months, and I feel like we have so few good ones from the last couple of months.  It makes me feel a little sad, but 1/10 of a second on film is just not enough to capture the essence of YOU.  You’re a mover and a busybody and a talker and a smiler, and to be honest, a picture just doesn’t do you justice.  You are the most beautiful baby I’ve ever known. (I get it…I’m biased…whatever…)

Your first Christmas is coming up, and I can’t wait to see you open presents/eat the wrapping paper.  I’m so glad that you’ll be able to actually parcipate in your first Christmas since you’re almost one that age we’re not talking about.  We tried to do a super cute Christmas card picture with you in your dress in front of the Christmas tree.  This is the only non-blurry armed picture we got:

So yeah, thanks for that.

The other day, I got an email from a friend who is pregnant asking advice about being a mom.  It was so fun to be able to respond with the things I’ve learned the past 11 months and so funny to think I was in her shoes last December.

A year ago, I was HUGE.  I had swollen feet and only had two shirts that still fit me.  I waddled (as your daddy so kindly pointed out).  I had heartburn daily.  More than that though, I was also slightly terrified of becoming a mom…of the loss of sleep, the unknown of what it would be like, and of course, the labor.  What I didn’t know then was how much none of that would matter after I met you.  Because the love I felt for you instantly became much, much bigger than the fear. 

I never imagined that I could love someone as much as I love you.  The other day, I was thinking about you and thought to myself, “Annelise could do anything, and I would still love her.  She could murder our whole family, and it wouldn’t matter.  I would love her.”  Then, something clicked.  That is a taste of the unconditional love God has for me and you and everyone else He has created.  He loves me. Even more than I love you.  That is, as Francis Chan would say, Crazy Love.

So in this last month of your first year, I hope you know how much Daddy and I adore you.  You bring much joy to our lives, and we thank God for you every day.  Literally every day.  That’s how special you are to us. 

Love you baby,

Mama

p.s. If you were wondering what you could get Mama for Christmas, I would be okay with an iPad.  Just saying…