Upon glancing back on most of my posts, I realized that this blog has been highly serious. Though that's great, that's also just a portion of me. So I decided to let you guys in on the most awkward moment of my entire life which happened to occur a few weeks ago.
Pregnancy brings many humiliating factors. Gaseous fumes that cannot be held in, clumsiness that can be severely heightened and one of my personal favorites - the responsibility of peeing in a cup every time you go to visit the doctor.
I don't know many people who enjoy relieving themselves into a cup, but I find myself highly annoyed by this practice. Especially because although I am pregnant and should typically be on the verge of wetting my pants most of the time, I actually still have a highly effective bladder that can hold quite a bit. (More than you ever wanted to know I am sure) I am not a person that can just go on demand - unless I truly feel the need, there is no pee escaping this body. So at every one of my prenatal visits, this seemingly simple task has been daunting. I have been unable to pee at my first two visits even though I took in several Venti Starbucks cups of water. And at every visit after that I've had to beg the nurses to let me go through the appointment and hopefully be able to "go" afterward. I have surely caused these nurses headaches and amazed them by my inability to urinate.
Until this last appointment. That's right, I planned ahead! I took in more than a half gallon of water and tried to think waterfall type thoughts. I held it in until I arrived at my appointment and took hold of that which had previously tried to take hold of me. I filled my cup appropriately, took care of everything and went to place my cup in the window.
Now let us pause so that I may explain the setup here. In the bathroom, there is a window that has a door on it. There are doors on both sides so you put your cup of pee in the window and then the nurses can grab it from their side.
I went over, opened the little door and as I went to place my prized cup in the window, the door I was holding slipped out of my hands, crushed my hand and I watched my cup drop from my hands and fall to the floor. Yep, that's right...I spilled my pee all over the wall and the floor. And yes, that in and of itself is horrible. But now here I stand in my own pee realizing that once again I have nothing to turn in to the nurses and no hope of having to go again in the near future. And to make matters worse, since the nurses had heard me open the door, they figured I had dropped off my cup and I kept hearing them open their side over and over again wondering what must have happened to the cup.
I grabbed paper towels and tried to clean up as best I could. I washed down the walls and the floor for approximately five more minutes and then grabbed my cup and realized there was no avoiding it - I had to tell the nurses what happened. I left the bathroom, went around the corner and saw the nurse standing there - waiting for my sample. I looked her in the eyes, opened my mouth and slowly the words formed: "I just had the most awkward moment of my life. My cup fell out of my hands and my pee spilled on the floor and I tried to clean it up and if you give me some cleaning supplies I'll clean it. I'm so unbelievably sorry. And is it at all possible that there's enough pee in this cup for you to test because there is no way that I can pee again."
She just looked at me in amazement. (This is the same nurse I've had all of those times...) But hey, luckily she was able to test the few droplets of my pee or maybe she was just gracious and pretended it was enough. Either way, I'm still terrified of this whole process.
And there is my "beyond awkward" moment of the day.
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Friday, July 18, 2008
The feeling of nothing to say
Fear. I've been living in it. Afraid to compose...afraid to bare myself. Afraid that I won't have words to ever begin to capture truth. Afraid that my worth is summed up in my lack of ability to put together phrases that might inspire or cast light upon the truth God has given us.
So, basically I have nothing special to say.
But I should be honest about life. An interesting turn of events has transpired. Last we posted in the world wide web - we were planning to adopt. We had sat down and prayed together and finally decided on an adoption agency. We planned to call them on Monday. On Sunday, we found out we were pregnant. (Or actually, that I was pregnant. Ted is not pregnant, but he's a really quality guy) I didn't know how to handle it. I thought I might miscarry. I mean, we were ready to adopt...
I became ashamed as well. Here we were headed into this life-changing, exciting adventure. I felt like we really were going to live life the way God wanted us to. We were about to tangibly care for the orphan - I mean that's some serious God-following, right? We had told everyone - even people we didn't know. Why would God let this happen?
I felt humiliated. And I felt ridiculous for feeling so humiliated. (Gotta love the pits of despair we allow ourselves to drown in) While others oozed with excitement when they heard the news, I visibly didn't share the same sentiment. I couldn't wrap my heart around the fact that we'd told everyone we were going to adopt - my heart was ready to adopt. I had thought about holding that little girl, I had talked with Hannah about her sister that was out there somewhere that we were going to have soon. There was no mistaking that I wasn't excited about the change of events. And from there I piled more guilt upon myself because I wasn't thrilled.
I now sit here in my sixth month of pregnancy. We're having a boy. (I wasn't planning on having a boy, so just cycle through that pit again for me to understand where I was formerly at when I learned the news.) His name is going to be Jayden Michael. Jayden means, "God has heard" and Michael means, "Who is like our God?"
But here is where I stand today. We will still adopt. One day we will have a precious little girl (or at least that's what I think right now - but keep in mind, I've been wrong before) that we'll get to hold in our arms.
(random ADD moment - last night I watched part of Grey's Anatomy and there was a family with a little baby they had just adopted. As the dad finally really embraced her - I nearly lost it and I became even more excited for the day when we get to hold our little girl)
But God for the meantime is giving us Jayden. And that's not a let down. He is a gift and I'm really starting to cherish that gift with every swift kick to my ribs. My prayer is that his life is defined by helping his generation know that God has heard and that He cares. And truly, I can't think of anything much better. And luckily, in the midst of all this, God has taught me enough to know that when I meet this little boy, I will realize that he is incredible and I will thank God over and over for giving him to us and specifically at this time.
And one day I trust God will give us our precious little girl. The one I know He has named "Mine". (The name we've chosen is Mia which means "mine" in Italian) And maybe by then, God will have worked in my heart to not think I'm better than someone else if I adopt. Maybe by then, I won't be so immature as to think that we are so special because we're adopting. Maybe by then, I will realize that everything God does is wise and just and I won't feel ashamed when we don't seem to be as "special" and we seem more "normal" in our journey of following God. (These terms are horrendous, but it's what I've honestly thought if I'm real with myself)
So there's me. Bared. Nothing special to say. But at least I'm no longer living in fear. It wasn't a very nice master. Jesus is way better... You'd think I would have known that.
So, basically I have nothing special to say.
But I should be honest about life. An interesting turn of events has transpired. Last we posted in the world wide web - we were planning to adopt. We had sat down and prayed together and finally decided on an adoption agency. We planned to call them on Monday. On Sunday, we found out we were pregnant. (Or actually, that I was pregnant. Ted is not pregnant, but he's a really quality guy) I didn't know how to handle it. I thought I might miscarry. I mean, we were ready to adopt...
I became ashamed as well. Here we were headed into this life-changing, exciting adventure. I felt like we really were going to live life the way God wanted us to. We were about to tangibly care for the orphan - I mean that's some serious God-following, right? We had told everyone - even people we didn't know. Why would God let this happen?
I felt humiliated. And I felt ridiculous for feeling so humiliated. (Gotta love the pits of despair we allow ourselves to drown in) While others oozed with excitement when they heard the news, I visibly didn't share the same sentiment. I couldn't wrap my heart around the fact that we'd told everyone we were going to adopt - my heart was ready to adopt. I had thought about holding that little girl, I had talked with Hannah about her sister that was out there somewhere that we were going to have soon. There was no mistaking that I wasn't excited about the change of events. And from there I piled more guilt upon myself because I wasn't thrilled.
I now sit here in my sixth month of pregnancy. We're having a boy. (I wasn't planning on having a boy, so just cycle through that pit again for me to understand where I was formerly at when I learned the news.) His name is going to be Jayden Michael. Jayden means, "God has heard" and Michael means, "Who is like our God?"
But here is where I stand today. We will still adopt. One day we will have a precious little girl (or at least that's what I think right now - but keep in mind, I've been wrong before) that we'll get to hold in our arms.
(random ADD moment - last night I watched part of Grey's Anatomy and there was a family with a little baby they had just adopted. As the dad finally really embraced her - I nearly lost it and I became even more excited for the day when we get to hold our little girl)
But God for the meantime is giving us Jayden. And that's not a let down. He is a gift and I'm really starting to cherish that gift with every swift kick to my ribs. My prayer is that his life is defined by helping his generation know that God has heard and that He cares. And truly, I can't think of anything much better. And luckily, in the midst of all this, God has taught me enough to know that when I meet this little boy, I will realize that he is incredible and I will thank God over and over for giving him to us and specifically at this time.
And one day I trust God will give us our precious little girl. The one I know He has named "Mine". (The name we've chosen is Mia which means "mine" in Italian) And maybe by then, God will have worked in my heart to not think I'm better than someone else if I adopt. Maybe by then, I won't be so immature as to think that we are so special because we're adopting. Maybe by then, I will realize that everything God does is wise and just and I won't feel ashamed when we don't seem to be as "special" and we seem more "normal" in our journey of following God. (These terms are horrendous, but it's what I've honestly thought if I'm real with myself)
So there's me. Bared. Nothing special to say. But at least I'm no longer living in fear. It wasn't a very nice master. Jesus is way better... You'd think I would have known that.
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