Sarah Anne I Am

  A lot can change in eighteen months.   One day in the spring of 2011 I walked into a room and shook hands with the people I didn't know, and then went upstairs to unpack my bags. Eighteen months later one of those hands that I shook that day took my hand and put a wedding band on my finger as we said "I do" and tried not to cry.   One late night late in the month of September 2013 my midwife handed me my son for the first time, and I pulled him close to me, waiting for that first breath and that first cry. It came. Color flooded his skin as he began crying, breathing in air for the first time. In that moment everything was exactly what it needed to be, because my baby was breathing. Eighteen months later I am 40 weeks and 2 days pregnant with our daughter, and I am waiting- longingly- to watch her take her first breath, to hear her first cry.   A lot can change in eighteen months.   EVERYTHING can change in eighteen months.   Becoming a wife ...

  It wasn't even ten days into the month of January in 2013 when I began to wonder. It was this little thought, this whisper of hope that said "Maybe, maybe..." that I barely dared to listen to.   A few weeks later my wondering, my hoping, my praying all received the answer I wanted more than anything else: Yes.   Yes. I was pregnant. We were going to have a baby.   Over the months that followed we found out more about that baby. We found that it was healthy, we found that it was a boy, we found that the name that truly felt like a perfect fit was Judah. But there were other things, too, that I found. Things I didn't expect to be a part of this process of pregnancy the way I had expected the check-up's, ultrasound, and baby name books.   I knew him.   I felt like I knew who he was, this tiny, unborn human being. I knew things about his personality. The way he behaved in utero told me things about him. It would have seemed like a ridiculous leap...

  Right now I am trying to keep my house relatively clean. I'm trying to tidy up before bed. It never feels super rewarding to pick up a million toys and do the dishes at the end of the day, but boy does it feel good to wake up to a clean (ish) house. I'm trying to clean my bathroom- like actually clean it, with soap and stuff- more than every six weeks.   Right now I am trying to slowly transition to healthier, more natural alternatives rather than my usual myriad of toiletries. I'm trying out coconut oil as moisturiser and lotion. I'm contemplating making my own deodorant the next time I run out, even though it seems crazy to be one of those people who make their own deoderant   Right now I am trying to get in the Word every day, even if only for a few minutes. And journal. Because writing helps me process, and sometimes I don't even see my own sin until it's on paper. Twenty minutes when my kid is sleeping makes a big difference in my walk with the ...

  So, I'm more than six months pregnant with our sweet little girl (I'm assuming she's sweet, we don't actually know that yet), and here's a little bit about life.   Last week I had my glucose screen, a nice in-depth one involving a four-day prep, eight-hour fast, and three blood draws. Honestly, it was more tolerable than I anticipated. Maybe that's because I forgot to actually keep track of my protein and carb intake during the four-day prep, so "prep" was more like "I think I've eaten pretty well today, right?"   It also helps that I don't mind having my blood drawn...except the third time, when the lady practically stabbed me. Well, not STABBED per say, but she pricked me hard enough that the bruising is still spreading five days later. Like seriously, that's my vein, please be gentle.   For those of you who remember my invisibility problem from last pregnancy, well, it's just as bad this time around. Apparently ...

5:59am   I wake up and look at the clock. WHY. WHY AM I AWAKE? This is ridiculous. Whatever. I go to the bathroom, because I'm pregnant, so odds are I need to. During the forty-five seconds that takes, Judah starts crying. Touche, internal mama alarm clock, touche. I DO need to be awake.   Judah is a snotty, congested, crying mess. Fortunately, The Solution To All Things (his pacifier) is relatively easy to find in his crib. I mentally take his temperature- is he too cold? He might be too cold. I carry him to our bed, where Arthur is asleep, blissfully unaware that our firstborn might be a little bit too cold. I tuck the comforter around Judah and hand him his water cup. The next four minutes consist of Judah eating two-thirds of a banana, drinking some water, and going back to bed. I eat one bite of granola bar and go back to bed as well. 9:03am   I wake up and look at the clock. Praise Jesus. I listen- Judah is not crying. Judah is not talking, bouncing, or b...

  A week ago Judah nursed for the last time, and the ensuing wave of hormones that has engulfed me as my body rapidly shifts gears has been a bit overwhelming. But amongst the many emotions, one has stood out above all the others: Gratitude.   I am so incredibly thankful to have been able to nurse my son for fourteen months, especially considering that I was pregnant for the last four months. It has been a greater blessing than I anticipated to have to opportunity to feed my child so naturally. And as thankful as I am for this experience, not every step has been easy.   Judah was born knowing how to nurse. He was an expert right away. Unavoidable pain of learning to nurse aside, I am exceptionally fortunate to have a child who never struggled with his latch, never needed to be coaxed to eat. We had the opposite problem: He was ravenous. Like, CRAZY ravenous, all the time.   For the first few days of his life he nursed every two or three hours like a good litt...

  Oh, hi there. No, I didn't fall off the face of the earth, I'm still here. It's just been three and a half months since I posted anything...that's not embarrassing at all.   In my defense, it's been a busy three months. I've INTENDED to blog about a hundred times (okay, like six times) but never managed to get around to it. So let me bring you up to speed really quickly.   My husband's family visited us from South Africa! Hurray! Lots of family time was had, lots of pictures were taken, lots of memories were made. It was wonderful.   Then we did one solid, jam-packed week of ministry together as a family. I count Judah's sacrifice of normal naptimes as his contribution to ministry, yes. Totally valid.   Then I had a minor emotional meltdown (more on that in a second) and my wonderful, patient husband was like "Alright, we need a vacation." So we went to the beach for a week and just...were. We took it easy, spent hours by the sea, ...