Hero

She wakes me up, a flurry of good morning energy.

I have no idea where she gets it from. She gave me her genes and I can barely move. Also, her own mother told me once no one dared speak to her before noon when she was a girl.

But now. She is energy.

Sometimes she poops. I know, T.M.I.
Still, I barge into her bathroom. She has ten minutes before my cheerleading practice and I need a ribbon for my hair. "Where is my navy ribbon?" I demand. She knows.

355-4000.
The number for J.C. Penney on speed dial.
She worked because men are so forgetful sometimes.
Associate number 137.
I always enjoyed the discount.
Penney's is still my department store of choice.

Once she told me that she cleans and launders in the morning and in the afternoon because she refuses to sit home on the weekends. That's her time. Her time with us - to run the places we wanna go. To live the life of our her dreams.

Helter Skelter is a movie.
DON'T WATCH IT!
She was awake for (literally) three days straight with me after that.

748-9288.
R.S.C. Transportation.
"May I speak with Sherry Williams, please?"

Mama, I have something to tell you.
It's not good. You're not gonna like it.

She took it in stride.
My hero.
My mama.

Literally minutes after posting this - how my dream of being stay-at-home mama is realized - I read the topic for tonight's Five Minute Friday post is HERO. My hero is and always will be my working mother. Thank you, Mama. You da best.

The Mission of Motherhood: My First Takeaway

I like to read.

I don't talk about it much in this space because, well, I don't normally have time. But I decided that in 2014 (the first half of 2014 - no promises after my Summer Solstice baby arrives), I am going to make the time to process what I'm reading and how it is changing my life. I am also going to share it with this blog (and all of you reading) because I'd love to encourage you toward some great books. And I'm always challenged to form my own convictions on the important matters of life when I see others doing the same.

So ... what do I like to read?

Well, I read a little devotional called Jesus Calling everyday.
It is my favorite series of devotions ever written. God sings over me through it!
Therein, author (and God-listener) Sarah Young, directs me to pertinent verses of Scripture.
Generally, this Word pierces my heart.
Some days this is all the Word (Bible) I get.

However, I enjoy reading my Bible daily.
I don't do it everyday (due to poor planning [always poor planning] and amateur parenting) but I do it frequently. {Just a note of honesty, I am having a very tough time getting into the Scriptures lately. Anyone else? I find everything is more difficult for me during winter + pregnancy. Mercy.} I want to write more on how and why I find it important to read the Bible (no substitute) soon. It is the only Book breathed with such power and authority from God. Hallelujah!

I supplement with strong, faith-based books. I firmly believe that the Scriptures are sufficient, but I love to read tales of faith & character & godly parenting; I learn so much through the faith-experiences of others. God uses these stories to spur me on toward love and good deeds.

My favorite supplemental reading topic is mothering, also my favorite calling in this life. God has given me the warrior heart of a mother. I didn't realize it until recently. With this child growing inside of me, I have found my voice. You know the one, the one that says (in your mind, of course), "H---, no. That is not how this thing is going down. My son will get my best. My son will be the center of my world. My son is the most important thing that's ever happened." And just like that, I am a force. (Okay, people, I'm not nasty or anything. I just know that God has entrusted these two to me. And me only. (Okay, Josh too, but I am their only Mama.) I take this very, very seriously. No one else prays for my kids like I do. No one else spends every waking, working hour with my kids like I do (yes, plural, one is on the inside sucking the life from me daily. precious parasite.) No one knows them like I do, no one influences them like I do, no one accepts full responsibility for them like I do (the good, bad, and ugly). I get a little consumed with passion over this role and responsibility. I read to sharpen myself (because this mothering is my most important role). I read to encourage myself in the desert.

I recently read a book called The Mission of Motherhood by Sally Clarkson.
I was inspired by another great book that I read last year called Desperate co-written by Mrs. Clarkson and a favorite blogger of mine, Sarah Mae. I knew when I read Desperate that I HAD to get my hands on more of Sally's work as I could tell that she was someone I desperately wanted to imitate as a mama (Hebrews 13:7). Let me say, if you are known as Mama, go buy this book. Whether your children are 5 months or 15, the principles therein AND the convictions of Mama Clarkson are life-altering. The Mission of Motherhood is sort of a general overview of mothering {with lots of depth and dimension}. It is very relatable, a great resource for any mom. 5/5 stars. I highly recommend this book!

But I also wanted to share some of my biggest takeaways from my own reading and study. (One great thing about this book is the Bible study questions that end every chapter. I have discovered my mothering manta {more on that later} through my study and I'm developing a list of motherhood memory verses through this book. #loveit) Takeaways are tidbits from this text that have re-shaped the way I live my life. Let's get to it.

Takeaway #1: I am a stay-at-home mama for the duration and a firm believer in spending quantity time.
I do not like controversial topics (and this is one). I will tread lightly and respectfully. (Know that I am very thankful for my job. I am also very thankful for the nurses, teachers, secretaries, writers, police officers, fashion designers, etc. who make my life easier.)
I am a stay-at-home mama. Full time. I am not (yet) a homemaker. I kinda suck at that role. (One day.) For now, I am John's Mama. All day. Every day. I spent a year working part-time for Better Life Bags (many of my responsibilities were completed with John in tow). It was a very necessary part-time employment for a season of my life, but I sensed God leading me - gently - to a wilder kind of living. The kind where my only schedule is my children, my only responsibility is my children. I am grateful.

Sally Clarkson is bold. When posed with this question, "'But surely you're not saying I should quit my job and just stay home with my children,'" Sally responds, "Well, in a way I am saying that - or at least I am saying that women should consider the possibility more seriously than many do."

Bold. Before I add my thoughts to hers, I want to continue that Mrs. Clarkson doesn't mean that it's best for all women to quit their jobs. For some women (like my own mom), it would be detrimental to their children if they up and quit their jobs. How would the children eat? She is saying that there are many women who miss out on the lives of their children based on the cultural assumptions that every household must have two incomes in order to measure up and that women find their true meaning and calling in work outside of the home. Whew.

Pictures I forget to Instagram.

Picture this: John and I sit in our pj's. It's 2 p.m. Another day of light snow during which these two Georgians are not taking to the streets. We're watching Despicable Me 2 (most likely) maybe for the third time today. Mama is exhausted. Probably smelly. I tried (and failed) to do my pregnancy workout DVD; I only got halfway through before John was on my back during the push-ups. Exhausted collapse. Movie time. I kiss his head repeatedly, then his cheek. We call them his cheeky-boos. He pulls my head toward his for another kiss. Marker stained hands from attempting the letter "Y" together. We are doing nothing special. Nothing but time. I ask John to let Mama up. He does. Reluctantly. I go to the sink and do 15 minutes worth of dishes (still no end in sight). My cue to return to John is either a.) the water grows cold or b.) John pulls me back from the sink by my pajama pants. I return to my chair. John on my lap. iPhone in hand checking the 'gram. Another day in the books.

This is one picture of what quantity time looks like for us. Yes, of course, I also believe in quality time, but I think that the quality generally comes as an accident (like you can't pay for or plan the quality times - unless - Disney World) so we have to be present with our kids a whole lot of hours in order to get the really good stuff in. Those hours (upon hours, upon hours) become who we are to them. Present. Mama. Faithful friend. Teacher of what matters. Key influencer. Stabilizer. Comforter. Defender. Boo-boo healer.

I love this quote from Mrs. Clarkson: "If the mother who gave her children life is not willing to do what it takes to provide security, love, protection, instruction, and stability for her own children, then who will be willing to do so?"

I will not run the risk of my children being pseudo-orphans. I will put in the hours. I will be Mama.


Up until reading this book, I also fully intended to go back to work when my youngest started school. Upon completing this book, not only do I have a yearning to homeschool (something I intend to wrestle with God over regarding each individual child) but I also do not have the desire to work until after my little ones leave my nest. {Note: I graduated from college one month before John was born so I have never been a classroom teacher. I intend to go "back" to teaching when I am very old (and very gray) so that no parent will ever question the qualifications of the first-year teacher. Ha!}
I realize that God could change my heart so I hold this plan with an open hand.

However, I find it essential for me to be at home the moment my teenage son walks in from school. My husband teaches high school, and I am only hours removed from one of my favorite scenes: a high school basketball game. I saw firsthand the pressures faced by a teenage boy. Pressure to perform on the court. Pressure to keep his grades up in the classroom. Pressure to look all together before teachers and just disheveled enough before those crazy chasing girls. (Note to John: No way, Jose.) I cannot fathom my son returning from this war zone to an empty house, free time, and all my groceries. NO. WAY. I plan to be mother and friend to John now; (and though it will look tremendously different), I plan to be mother and friend to John thirteen years from now.

Galatians 6:7, 9: Do not be deceived: God cannot be mocked. A man reaps what he sows ... Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up.

Finally, I want to say that I write this (and all mothering posts) from a place of divine desperation. I write with humility. Why? Well, because mothering has humiliated me like nothing ever before. Mothering drives me to God daily. I call out to Him in desperation. I apologize to my son for angry outbursts/crying attacks (especially while pregnant ... can I get an Amen?) almost daily. As a mom, I am a screw-up. Do not hear the tone of this post as judge-y AT ALL. I know that the question to stay at home or not is touchy. I don't want to assign mommy guilt to anyone. {I bet you're doing a great job!} I only want to keep a record of what God is teaching me during this season. It's important to me to write it all down. It's more important to me that YOU, Mama, feel blessed and encouraged by this blog.

I have much to say about this book. I will continue to write on all that God is teaching me through Mrs. Clarkson's influence in the days to come. Stay tuned.

Nursing John Past Two

I begin with the end.

My son, crazy, wakey ninny monster, John Ashley Beam, weaned from the ninny in early January 2014.

He was (is) 31 months old.

Friends, if ever you do something for 31 consecutive months of your life, it is worthy of a blog post (or two, or three).

I have done much better with the transition than anticipated; more on that later.
For starters, I want to honor the seven months of John's third year that I spent nourishing and comforting him on the ninny.

These past seven months have varied greatly.
Most everyone knows that #wakeyboo is a terrible napper. This really needs no explanation (terrible napper = John has always hated sleep during the day), however, I want to give one because I don't want people to mistake this statement about John as Mama speaking negatively about him. In fact, Mama is a terrible napper. When I am bone tired, I cannot. shut. my. eyes. You know, I might miss something aaannnndddd I need to soak up every moment of my day (even if all I'm doing is perusing Pinterest looking for ideas for my friend Emily to morph into Baby Beam's bedding). Sigh.

Ironically, the only place where I can be seen getting some shut eye while the sun is up is in my van. Funny, that's the same & only place my baby Boo does his day sleeping. I do not speak ill about my son by saying he is a terrible napper; I will not despise Baby Beam if he/she is a terrible napper. He (they) get it from his (their) mama.

I think everyone also knows my opinion about the seasons:
Summer > Winter.
There are so many reasons why this opinion is so.
One of the lesser is that JOHN TAKES NAPS DURING SUMMER.
From June until maybe early October I'd strap him in his carseat, take off down the Interstate, he'd crash and easily transfer from carseat to "stroll-poll" (stroller) and into coffee house/"boo-kah-tee" (bookstore)/eating establishment/mall/park we'd go. Summer was naptime heaven!

John napping after nursing to sleep at a local coffee shop.

An hour or so later (after Mama spent needed time with God), John would awake and instantly request ninny. These were some of the most treasured times between Mama and Boo. Sometimes he'd drift back in to and out of sleep, and I'd finally rouse him with the offer of a Starbucks chocolate chip cookie (yum). He was my precious summer nurser.

A word about nursing in public.
I do it.
It was obvious to me as soon as John was born that I would NOT be one of the women who retreats to the nursery at every hunger cry. For starters, we didn't have a nursery. Then there's the fact that John nursed every. single. hour. as a newborn. We were very near to family and lifelong friends his first two months, and we had multiple visitors (often male) every day. Lastly, I am a mega-extrovert = gotta be in on all the shenanigans.
I am also one of those quacky ladies who thinks it's important to the health and wellness of our society that we women proudly feed our young in public. (Note: if you formula feed, please feed your baby in public. They gotta eat! And I am the opposite of a homebody.) I got ALL KINDS OF weird looks feeding a two-year-old in Starbucks. They truly did not bother me. I only hope that young women watching me will also find the boldness to do the best by their own babes and feed them well for as long as both Mama and baby will. However, I do cover in public. Not because I think you have to. Unfortunately, breasts tend to only be seen as sexual objects in our country. I cover because while I believe that breastfeeding is the most meaningful and rewarding sacrifice I can make for my baby, I also believe in the import of protecting the eyes of the men I encounter in my day-to-day life. These are all my personal convictions which have Mr. Beam's stamp of approval. (That was a controversial and weird topic. Moving on.)
Just kidding. One more thing. My friend, Rebecca, ordered me a Covered Goods nursing cover over the summer. It is seriously the greatest nursing cover ever invented for extended breastfeeding (EBF). It is very lightweight and I LOVE that it covers your entire back. Talk about breastfeeding modestly! My friend, Rebecca, just gave birth to her third-born and reminded me that why the Covered Goods cover might not be my best bet when Baby Beam makes his/her appearance: It lacks the structured neckline that allows you to watch your baby as he/she is learning to latch. BUT for a wiggly two-year-old (and probably for a wiggly-any-age-feeder) it is the most perfect and comfortable nursing cover around!

Okay, really moving on.
As summer faded into fall winter, John stopped napping (unless I sat in the car with him). It became impossible for me to successfully transfer him from car to stroller. When the cold hit him, his eyes instantly shot open. Our outings no longer involved a gentle ninny wake-up call, rather they revolved around running the softplay, reading books together, and almost never asking for ninny.

John started "school" in September. Most weekday mornings, John and I hang out with a gaggle of kids from Yemen (and one other USA kid) while their mommies learn English. This added a bit of structure to John's day, which I'm sure impacted our nursing relationship. He moved from nursing all day every day to (always) once in the morning (upon coming to Mama's bed) and 2-3 times throughout the day (if and only if we stayed home).

At some point in late September, I got pregnant. I did not notice much fluctuation in my supply, but I honestly didn't notice much about my supply since John was nursing so infrequently. Milk was there when he wanted it and that was all we cared about! There was a lot of worry from friends and family about what I would do if John didn't wean before the baby came. I never worried about this at all. I sort of intuitively knew that he would wean before Baby, but I secretly hoped I'd be able to tandem nurse them (on my mommy bucket list; yes, I am crazy).

John and I traveled to Georgia for three weeks in December. By this time, he was nursing (consistently) only once a day: in the morning in his mama's bed. This continued to be his pattern until Daddy got to Georgia and the Christmas craziness began! He was so busy during the holidays (note: both mine and Josh's families are there) that he would often go days without nursing. I had times of mild pain during the days when John forgot the ninny and I was moderately full, but it was not unbearable. John got a goopy eye and a cold in mid-December and I tried to hand express some milk to put in his eye. Nothing came. This was the first sign that my supply was lower than normal.

It was very difficult for me to watch John wean in this manner because my dream had always been to allow him to self-wean. While he was technically weaning himself, I knew that if he was at home in his regular routine, he probably would have continued on a while longer. I also knew that he'd regret it once the milk was gone. While I was mentally prepared that he might wean during the busy-ness of our trip, I was in no way emotionally prepared.

John nursed a handful of times in early January and I cried in pain each time. The milk was just not there anymore. It was sad; we were finished.

I have allowed myself to cry a few times. John still asks for ninny every other day. I gently tell him no and divert his attention to something else. We are adjusting.

I take comfort in the fact that I am due in less than five months with (Lord willing) my second ninny baby. While there are so many things about the newborn phase that I do not enjoy, breastfeeding is not one of those things. It is the most challenging and precious facet of new life! While I miss my ninny boy, I am so looking forward to this new sweet ninny baby. Soon and very soon. I am blessed.

Why I Want a Boy (or a girl)

Everyone keeps talking to me about how I should have a little girl. How they hope I have a little girl.

Not gonna lie, I would be over-the-moon thrilled if with Josh's first view of our precious newbie he got to announce proudly, "It's a girl!" However, there is a good chance that he will announce, "It's a boy!" and just like that, we'll have two of a kind.

Sometimes words fail.

While I would love to satisfy both sides of our family's vision of pink (would be the first girl in 21/26 years), I cannot pretend that there would be even a hint of gender disappointment if the birthday proved a vision of blue.

A boy named John entered my world during the summer of 2011. Until then, I didn't really like boys or attempt to understand them (though I was married to one). I had been very hurt by masculinity and it wasn't until I, Ashley Beam, aided God in bringing a heaping helping of masculinity into this world that I began to care about the male point of view.

And now? I am obsessed with my boy!

Ob-freaking-sessed.

He has provided me with something that no girl - no matter how cute or sweet - could ever provide. He has given me a tender heart toward that which I formerly despised. He has given me a heart for men. Man, men, masculine: I used to hate all of these words. I now dwell with them.

While John is compassionate and friendly and wicked smart, at the end of a long day, here we are: John hitting me in the face with a Dusty Crophopper plane. Hard. I cry and he comforts me. And we go round. Mama and boy. Woman and man-child.

I could never articulate the privilege it is to raise a son! Never. Not in a million years.

And while the world is out there wishing for girls (and y'all, don't misunderstand, I love girls. Girls were my whole world until May 28, 2009 - the day the nephew winning streak began.), I am over here like yelling, "I LOVE MY SON! I HAVE SUCH A HEART FOR HIM!" And, y'all, I don't ever want my heart toward him (and possibly his brother) to be misunderstood by anyone's wishful thinking for a girl.

Everyone wants me to have a girl. I get it. I really do.

In fact, I'd kinda like a girl for me too.
But - in the same breath - I'd kinda like a boy.

Just wanted to write this to say a sweet thank you to my son for being, well, the greatest son ever. May he always know that he forever changed my heart toward half of the population of planet Earth. You, John Ash, are a big deal. I love you.

I also wanted to write this for John's brother or sister. It will be apparent when you get here how wanted you are - boy or girl. The gender question is just really in my face right now. You see, I could find out if you are a boy or girl tomorrow. But I'm not gonna. I'd like all possibilities to remain until your birthday. I'd also like my reward for a successful VBAC or my second successful c-section to be the epic surprise of you. Until then, however, I live with this inevitable girl pressure and this surprising boy love.

If you are, in fact, John's sister. Well, I adore you, miss. I fully expect that you will act like a certain tomboy I know named Calley. I also intend to give you the most perfectly polished and girlishly enduring name I know. Sarah. Sarah is princess. And whether you behave as Cinderella or Merida, you will be mine. I intend to invite you into every aspect of my life. I will nurse you at my breasts and, God willing, in two or three decades, aid you as you do the same for your young. I will share my friends with you that you may learn the beauty of relationship, the power of words, and the necessity of community. I pray that this sharing may be reciprocal, and mostly, that the deepest friendship of mine will be formed within the sharing. Sarah, I will show you what it means to be a wife to a good man. You will show me what it means to be a sister to a good brother. (I only know what I know: being sister to a wild good sister.) I will learn with you and your brother to keep a house. Mostly, I will show you what it means for your deepest and highest and widest and proudest calling to be your investment in the little disciples the LORD has given. (I have already begun praying for you that if you are, in fact, a girl that God would instill deeply in your being the heart of a mother. I started praying the same but opposite for your bro. I love how you are teaching me already.) Sarah, I am enamored with you. If God's desire for me is to shepherd the heart of a woman, I say, "BRING YOU ON!" It is such fun to dream of you. I love you.

If you happen to be the son of my right hand, I welcome you. Benjamin, I finalized your name (and inshallah, your sister's name also) at the ripe age of ten. I have been dreaming of you forever. I never dreamed you'd be my second son and just how much significance your name would bring. I am a right-handed mama, and when you arrive, I know that John (my gift of grace) will shift to my weaker hand. He will be three and much more sufficient than you. You will require my strength, my right hand. Your daddy, however, is left-handed. I have had uncertainty about your name for many reasons, but one of the lesser ones is that I was unsure if I wanted to name the son of my left-handed man "son of my right hand." However, I see in John so many similarities to Daddy and me. I am praying for you that you would literally be his right hand, that you would be able to aid and teach us as our right hand. In particular, Daddy would love for you to be an excellent conversationalist, an initiator with people, and somewhat organized. Anyway you come, you will be a treasure to your mama. Benjamin, I absolutely would love if you'd be you that I might see some insane brother bond between you and a certain friend of mine named John. I also dream that you - another little man with a different personality - will further my healing and complete freedom in our LORD Jesus. I know that you will make Mama so proud and be worthy of such respect from me. If God wants me to journey with a tribe of gentle, loving, strong & wild-hearted men, I am thrilled! I cannot wait to meet you, Benjamin Joseph (may God add to me yet another son). I love you.

Here's to not finding out the gender tomorrow. (Muahahahahah!)

Say What?!?!

I'm back!

Yes, I realize that I didn't finish my 31 Days series back in October and I've been missing in action since then.

There's a reason for that: (note) I am horrible at keeping secrets. Especially really big ones.

See, what had happened was ...

On October 9 (three days after discovering our house was infested with bed bugs while we had a very gracious and wonderful guest lodging in said house), Josh and I (much to our surprise) found out that I was carrying (still am) our second little baby Beam.

The big secret was ...

I'm pregnant!

16 weeks pregnant, in fact. (Feeling his/her first little flutters this week. Yes, early. Yes, I love it!)

Here's the story: I went out to Starbucks and then on a Better Life Bags errand for some much-needed alone time. After accomplishing time by myself and making my purchase on behalf of BLB, I ran in Target to grab a few things for the kids I keep at my friend's English school. I also bought a pregnancy test because my period (sorry if any dudes are reading this) was already a day late and my period is NEVER late, but always, always on time and often early. I then decided that I should take said pregnancy test because I have a disorder that causes me to take any pregnancy tests in my possession immediately. So, right there in the second stall of the Target bathroom, thinking to myself, "Wouldn't it be funny if I got a positive pregnancy test here?" I saw the darkest pink line I've ever seen. I immediately lifted my arms in praise to God, the Giver of every good and perfect gift, then I thought about how all I'd consumed that day was coffee (and there realized that I'd forgotten to eat in the busyness of the day). I also thought, "How did this happen?" (Don't answer that. Josh and I have successfully managed no birth control other than natural family planning this whole four years of marriage {John was very much planned.}, and we intended to make a baby right about now {beginning of 2014} #ohwell) Then I thought of how I'd been thinking of this baby since John was born, and I got so stinking excited in that moment! 

Then I felt like I was going to vomit. I felt diarrhea coming on (TMI, I'm aware.). I had a 45 minute drive home before I could tell Josh (because I had to tell him in person). How could I withhold something this monumental from him for 45 whole minutes? (He knew before I did about John's coming because I walked out of the bathroom while he watched the pregnancy test fade in two pink lines. He wanted to vomit then. What had we done?!? I think all parents know the feeling. Joy and terror.) Anyway, I made it home. Still no food. There was no stinking way I could eat at this point.

Josh and John were in the bathroom. Bath time for the little one. I could not have planned this scenario better if I tried. Josh began to tell me about this book he'd been reading (Fathered by God, John Eldredge). He told me that the gist of the book is that we not feel abandoned by our own dads when they fail to father us in some capacity, and that we not feel abandoned when we are in some hard station of life alone and scared. These are the sacred moments to experience God's fatherhood to us. These hard moments are also ways in which God is prepping us to uniquely father others. I mean he was going on and on about fathering and then he started talking about fathering many.

To which I replied,

"Funny you should say that..."

My voice trailed and I let the picture I'd taken of a certain dark-pink-line pregnancy test do the talking.

Josh's reaction was priceless and may be my favorite moment of our married lives. He let out a loud "Whaaaaat," followed by a loud yell, followed by a tight hug because I finally broke and sobbed. I had felt so much in that hour and it all had to come out somehow. Tears.

A week later I traveled to Georgia to throw a wedding shower for my cousin, Mink. I told all my family (at 4.5 weeks pregnant) and then started spotting lightly. The spotting lasted for four days and scared me into submission. You see, after finding out that I was going to have two kids I went into I-can-do-anything-mama-mode. I was not resting well. I was just being a task-oriented mama to my boy (task-oriented, I am not). Spotting was my first pregnancy symptom (followed by many, many more) and I did next to nothing to prepare my vision for Minkey's shower. (Sorry, Mink. Thanks, Mama, Cal & Chris. #rockstars)

It was certainly cool on spotting Sunday (the next-to-last-day of spotting). I was sitting in church with my mama while my pastor at my home church preached from 2 Kings 2. He preached about discipleship and made us wonder who our Elisha was. But the verse that really caught mine and Mama's attention, a promise straight from God, was 2 Kings 2:21:

Then he went to the spring of water and threw salt in it and said, "Thus says the LORD, I have healed this water; from now on neither death nor miscarriage shall come from it."

My mama had a pack of salt stashed in the crease of her Bible from a previous sermon. We looked at each other knowingly. The LORD had spoken; I should trust. {I find it no coincidence that I have craved all the salty things during this pregnancy. God also gave us a promise about John before we were pregnant from 2 Kings. Point taken. If I don't want to be pregnant, steer clear of this book. :)}

My first trimester was very hard. I only puked once {with my head hanging out the van door in the brisk Michigan fall air as traffic whizzed by; yes, 'twas dramatic.} And I only had all day nausea for one day. {Yes, I am lucky.} BUT I have experienced the depths of despairing mama exhaustion. I didn't cook. I didn't clean. I just kept up my daily must-do-or-people-will-scream duties (mostly) and made sure John was still alive when Josh got home. As soon as my saint of a husband walked through our door, I fell into our bed to either engage in something meaningless on my iPhone or sleep (or both). Those were dark days.

I also had absolutely no brain power or mental focus during my first trimester. No, seriously. I could read about one verse of the Bible and that. was. it. I resorted to reading books to John that I had memorized. It was bad. (I googled this phenomenon known as pregnancy brain, and Google confirmed that, in fact, during your first trimester, your baby eats your brain. BUT {there's hope} he/she regurgitates small chunks of it during the second trimester, which is why I am over halfway done with my current & fabulous read. Thank you, Baby.)

Me & my favorite oldest nephew at the classiest wedding of all time!

My second trimester rolled in just at the same time as a certain winter wonder wedding. Jay and Taylor (my Minkey) Preckel were wed on December 15, 2013. Girl, me and Calley were looking so fly. Success #1: my dress (bought over the summer) still zipped. Success #2: Only one person asked me if I was pregnant (and I'm pretty sure she already knew the answer, so it wasn't like a you're-getting-fat-are-you-pregnant but a I-thought-I-heard-you-were-pregnant-are-you-pregnant). Success #3: Mason J made it down the aisle. Here's the point: It was an extremely busy time, and I'm so thankful that gained some of my energy back for it.

And now, here I am. Indoors. {And still freezing.} With a little baby cooking away.

I have no gender predictions. No gender preferences. Benjamin or Sarah, Mama is so stoked to meet you!
BUT we won't be finding out boy/girl in a few weeks. I love for the most epic surprise to stay a surprise. (Josh and almost everyone I know say it's a girl. We shall see.)

Cravings (in the order in which they occurred, italicized if they are still occurring): Grape tomatoes, homemade ranch dip & Ruffles, chips and salsa from Chili's, baked squash (salty), Japanese food (!!!) I craved really healthy things with John. This time, not so much. I've also oft been drinking decaf sweet tea to settle my stomach. Pregnancy is a trip.

If you have read all this nonsense, you are a trooper. Bless you! I don't mean to ramble. I just want to document this pregnancy better than I did John's. I have been doing a way better job writing in my pregnancy journal this time (John writes in it too, pictured). I hope to plan to update weekly with a very unprofessional bump picture and highlights from the week. I'm not making any promises, but subsequent posts should not be this long. BUT I do plan to end them all with a prayer for my unborn.

Father in Heaven, Thank you for this precious life growing inside of me. I cannot even imagine why on Earth you are entrusting me with two children. I am only a competent mother because YOU, Jesus. Thank you for being a lover and Giver of life. Father, I plead with you to give me the most fiercely precious months with my John-boy. His days as my only are ending and I want to treasure these last mama-son-only-days. Please help me to be all there for him. Give me wisdom and grace in knowing how to present this baby - his brother or sister! - to him. Help me to focus on loving his little heart through the transition. Father, please heal him of the current cruddy cold that he has. In Jesus's Name. Father, I pray that you would make ready John Ash to be a big brother. He is now to be forever watched by another eternal soul. Father, may he use his influence for good, for the safety and saving of Ben or Sarah's life. Give him a heart for his sibling. A heart of patient understanding and grace. A heart of joy in his/her presence. A heart of a shepherd - to be a gentle and guiding example. A heart of prayer - that he'd not fail to pray for his sibling. A heart of thankfulness. In Jesus. Father, I pray for Benjamin or Sarah. Please knit him/her with great care. Fearfully. Wonderfully. Every act on purpose. Give this child gifts and quirks and personality for the betterment of mankind, which is only equivalent to the coming of your kingdom. Father, may this child know right now at 16 weeks gestation the love of his/her Mama. And continue to give me a fierce heart for my second-born. Grow this baby. In your image/likeness. May he or she display your glory all the days. Father, may this babe's heart beat for you. Only you. Bind Satan (In Jesus's Name) from this knitting process. You, LORD, are the only One welcome in my womb. Give this baby as much health as you will. Give this Mama perseverance through pregnancy. Thank you for our health and well-being thus far. You are good! Father, for both of my children, I pray into them a heart for people, a humble & gracious spirit, an honest & wholehearted lifestyle (that they'd live wholly unto You), and a deep, deep dependence on You, Father (may they know that they are not enough; only You satisfy). Give this entire family the tenacity to face the battle. For Jesus. Amen.