Our First NST!

Only for the love of my daughter would I show you this picture. Because really, there are stretch marks that won’t go away no matter what “edit” I try. And even though my stomach feels hard, it doesn’t look it in this picture.

*Sidenote – My stomach gets very hard sometimes. I learned last night, while hooked up to pink and blue, that these are actually contractions. Ha. How about that?

My little one may be a lot like her father, and if you know Aaron, then this will make more sense to you. For very long periods of time, he runs at about 78 miles per hour and he doesn’t ever stop until bed time. But then he is STILL. For a 28-year-old man who I can see, this is fine. For a 34-week-old princess whose presence is only known by her movements, I got freaked out. But don’t worry. She’s fine.

At my regularly scheduled OB appointment last night, it was suggested that I have a Non-Stress Test done due to her lack of movement during the day. I had a small 75 minute taste of what it might be like to be in the hospital. Which was scary but exciting. Outside the door, I heard a dad on the phone, emotion in his voice, repeating over and over "It's a girl!". I was teary just listening to him. She didn't have a name yet, but she was beautiful. I mean, that's what he said. I didn't actually see her. That would have been weird.

Being there, listening to the lullaby play twice during that time, it made me anxious and excited. I can't wait to meet my daughter.

{I didn't get home until almost 9pm, BUT I got ice chips. The night was not a total loss.}

ANYTHING.

If I can deal with all the things I've been handed while being 7.5 - 8.5 months pregnant,

I CAN DO ANYTHING.

{the end}

A failure of all sorts.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

My shirt is soaking wet.

My makeup is streaked and my cheeks are flushed.

I cannot stop the tears that flow from a broken heart. A heart that loves more than I know what to do with, but is still so selfish and desires so much.

I cannot be 8 months pregnant and be the supportive wife of a man who just lost his father. The weight is too heavy and I am crumbling under the pressure.

I was mean and rude and demanding and accusatory and everything that I'd hoped I'd never be, especially when he needs me most.

But I failed him, as I always will, because I cannot do it on my own.

I need help. This is too hard.

***************

"Lord, please! I cannot keep doing this! I am falling apart."

I cry out to him as I drive, on my way home from the grocery store, where I've planned for the week and suffered the anxiety already of not being enough.

"Why do you only come to me when you are hurting? Why only when you need me?"

Drip.

"If you only spoke to Aaron when you needed him, how do you think your relationship would be?"

Drip.

"Talk to me all the time. I will help you."

"I can't stay focused. My mind wanders, I feel like I have too much to do."

"Let me help you."

Drip.

"Just, let me help you."

***************

Here I am. Asking for help. Only the help that you can give. I cannot do this on my own. I do not want to keep trying. I surrender.

Father's Day

Bittersweet doesn't exactly describe this Father's Day.

Aaron is going to be already such an amazing Father. (Remember this shopping trip?)

But he celebrates his first Father's Day without his Father. It's just so...

...I guess bittersweet is the only word I can think of.

Oh, my sweet Aaron. I love you so much. Tiny Dancer loves you so much. We are so proud of you for the man that you are and the Daddy that you're becoming.

My husband's heart.

I have so much I want to say, but the words are hard to come by. There are tears, and a few words. More tears, and a few more words.

My husband is hurting and I can’t make it go away. This is very difficult for me to accept, because I am a “fixer”. I like to make things better. I can’t make this better.

If asked of 50 people what Aaron’s best trait is, 48 of them would say he has a really big heart. The other 2 would say he is a bad mama-jama.

He loves to buy for people, or give to people from what we already have. If you needed a shirt, he would give you the one off his back, plus $20 to go buy matching sandals at TJMaxx. If you needed money for lunch, he would give you $20 for your lunch, plus the gift card in his wallet for Subway because “he doesn’t really like it anyhow”.

I LOVE my husband’s “big heart”.

The only problem?

His really big heart is capable of really big hurt.

Really. Big.

And right now, I could offer him all the TJMaxx gift cards in the world, or golf passes to the course where he would undoubtedly buy the person he was with a hot dog at “the turn” (I’m not a golfer. I don’t get this.), but it doesn’t matter. There isn’t anything I can give him or buy him or make for him that will make this any better. Or any less bad. Or anything other than the suck of the suckiest suck of the world.

But I have my love and I give it to him. I have my hands, so I make him sandwiches for his lunch. I have my voice, so I speak prayers on his behalf. (Not enough though. I'm working on this. Actually, God is working on me to work on this.)

I do not have much, but I am trying to give him all that I have. Because if the situation were reversed, I would own the TJMaxx chain, and we would eat at Olive Garden every day, even though he doesn’t really like it, and he would bring me Starbucks Iced Tea in bed and at work and in the middle of the night. Because he has a really, really big heart.

A heart that I love. With a really, really big love.

I wish it was enough. It's not right now. But one day, it will be. I just have to believe it. And wait. Just wait.

"... but those who hope in the LORD
will renew their strength.
They will soar on wings like eagles;
they will run and not grow weary,
they will walk and not be faint."
Isaiah 40:31 (New International Version)

I will not let the fear win.

I fear him lurking around the corner. Each ring of the telephone, a quick prayer that it isn’t bad news. I cannot handle more phone calls making known a death. The end. No more.

I will not be gripped by fear. I will not allow the unknown to decay my current state. Fear to fly, fear to drive, fear to walk across the street, fear to leave my husband, my loved ones, for when will I see them again? Will I see them again? I will not have a fear to live.

I will choose to hope. And I will believe. I am safe and I am protected and those I love are cared for. I will trust.

For now, I will not let him win. I will not let the fear, intimidation of death ruin my days. For I know that my days are numbered and so I will count each day, and make each day count.