Tag Archives: pregnancy

Writing and making babies

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Dear readers,

wow. I’ve been MIA for way too long. To fill you in on why . . .

I’m pregnant!

And I wrote two and a half novels.

One, a cozy mystery, is probably destined to live on my hard drive for the rest of its existence. I began to write immediately (read: 3 days) after my ectopic pregnancy in June, and it was an incredible exercise in escapism that taught me I am actually capable of writing a novel from start to finish. I wrote lavish descriptions of the character’s bedroom and I could have sworn I actually spent a few hours leaned up against her tufted headboard and snoozing on her high thread-count sheets. It was like there was this magic in my brain that I could activate and–poof! I was in another world.

Enter novels #2 and #3: two young adult fantasy novels (meant to be a trilogy, eventually). I wrote the first one in September and October and I’m querying agencies like mad (querying = trying to find a literary agent who will pitch my project to a publisher). After two months of emailing agent after agent after agent and facing daily rejections (ugh), I still don’t have an agent–but I am at least in conversation with an agent about a potential revision, which is encouraging.

Back to the pregnancy bit: I am 15 weeks along, heard the heartbeat for the first time just the other week, and am coming out of the woods of the first trimester into the light of day.

It’s funny, because I have felt so sick, tired, despondent, and enamored with bedtime, that I thought ‘this is way worse than when I was pregnant with Alice.’ And then I actually went back and read some of my blog posts from that pregnancy, and I realized: no, it’s exactly the same.

Do exactly as I do. Exactly as I do.

(Sponge Bob? Coaching Patrick Star on how to open a jar? Anyone?)

Except that instead of wolfing down French fries (which I don’t have time to run out and purchase on a daily basis), I’m wolfing down box after box of Kraft macaroni and cheese. Orange . . . saucy . . . perfection.

Anyway, what a change from where I was in the summer. I’m suddenly a writer passionately pursuing publication, and having a second baby.

Oh, and my husband just successfully defended his dissertation.

WHOA!

God is good.

Love,

The Absentee Blogger that you may not remember, but I’ll jog your memory:

. . . and voila. Hmmmmm.

. . . and voila. Hmmmmm.

I’m the one with the underwear showing.

Built on Nothing Less

As I recover from my ectopic pregnancy and the ensuing surgery, there are ups and downs. Some days I feel like the worst is behind me, only to fall all the way back down into sadness the next day.

One thing I’ve been thinking about a lot is what I want for the future. I’m tempted to just say, “I want another baby.” I’m tempted to let my daydreams go there when I’m feeling sad. But if I hang my hopes on that, I know it’s not going to be good. It will breed anxiety, probably disappointment, and a life-stealing obsession. It’s okay for me to want a baby . . . but I’m reminding myself of the wonderful words of the hymn:

My hope is built on nothing less
than Jesus’ blood and righteousness
I dare not trust the sweetest frame
but wholly lean on Jesus’ name

I’ve been singing that over and over–out loud and in my mind–over the past 3 or 4 days. And it helps remind me to surrender. Every time I think, “I just want another pregnancy, as quickly as possible,” I have been disciplining myself to open my hands (sometimes with a real physical gesture) and say, “Lord, you know what I want, but I give this desire to you.” I dare not trust the sweetest frame–not even having a healthy baby immediately. Instead, I will trust his goodness and let that be what I hope in. I may have a baby in 9 or 10 months–I may never have a baby from my own body again. I can’t stand on the foundation of that hope, because it’s sinking sand.

I don’t want to become obsessed with being pregnant, bitter about other pregnancies around me, unable to rejoice over what I have right now–an amazing husband and daughter. I want to be overflowing with a hope that’s placed on the only firm foundation.

Another thought I’ve had comes from Proverbs 3:

Happy are those who find wisdom, and those who get understanding,
for her income is better than silver, and her revenue better than gold.
She is more precious than jewels, and nothing you desire can compare with her.
Long life is in her right hand; in her left hand are riches and honor.
Her ways are ways of pleasantness, and all her paths are peace.
She is a tree of life to those who lay hold of her; those who hold her fast are called happy.

Really? Nothing I desire can compare with wisdom–not even my desire for a wriggly, fat little cherub in my arms?

I’ve been thinking–if God gives me ten wriggly, cherubic kids but I don’t have wisdom, what good is that? He can give me the blessings I ask for–like more children, a job for my husband, etc–but if I’m a fool, what good is that? Then I’m just a fool with ten kids and more money.

I believe God is bringing and will continue to bring me wisdom through this loss. I want to treasure that . . . and I’m starting to.

I’m not done mourning. But the Spirit is comforting me through Scripture and hymns, reminding me: hope in Christ. Treasure wisdom. Happiness is not always where you think it is. Look to me.