Darkness and Light

Today we went to see the Carl Bloch exhibit at the BYU Museum of Art.

Incidentally, the whole experience of seeing the exhibit was yet another confirmation that I am turning into my mother, as I started crying pretty much the second we walked in. Luckily, my mother is awesome so I'm good to go. (Note to my mother: Mom, I'm sorry for all those times when I teased you about your crying. Please come watch Tangled with me sometime and I give you full leave to laugh at me as I bawl my way through three-quarters of that movie. Seriously. It happens every. Single. Time.)

The Spirit hit me as we walked around the corner to see the giant picture of The Doubting Thomas (see the first picture in this article) and it only got stronger as we went through the exhibit. Of course Christ Healing the Sick at Bethesda is a favorite and a common sight in nearly any LDS meetinghouse around the world, and I loved Christ in the Garden of Gethsemane (one wonders who the angel was).

But then I saw The Daughter of Jairus.

You can see a more detailed version here.

I wish the placard text for this picture was available so I could give it to you exactly, but it went something like this:

Instead of focusing on the moment of healing when Christ raises the daughter of Jairus from the dead, the artist instead shows the moment of deepest despair. The grieving mother has sat with her daughter all night, mourning for her death, until the light of dawn is creeping into the sky through the open door. With that light comes life. Christ is seen in the doorway and the moment of the miracle approaches.

So much of life and infertility is filled with those moments of deepest despair. I have wept many nights. I have spent sleepless nights knowing that the small hope growing inside me has gone. I have grieved for my missing daughters and sons.

But with light comes life.

Surely He hath borne our griefs and carried our sorrows.

This painting brought back to me full force the remembrance that Christ knows our every suffering and every pain, and has taken them all upon Himself. In this painting, He is coming to take them away from this mother and bring her joy again.

I was reading a recent blog post about The Days Before—those days before the Big Days that change our lives ("Tomorrow, when our lives changed," the author says). The post specifically mentioned some happy days before bad or difficult news came, but this painting also reminded me that there are the other Days Before. The last dark days before the light comes. I remember the last few days and months before each of my positive pregnancy tests. I remember the terrifying day before my first ultrasound with the Little Guy, when I was certain that it would all come crashing down around us again. And I treasure those days now, because they are made precious by what came after.

Because I lived through the dark, I was able to drink in the light more deeply, with more wonder and thankfulness.

With light came life.

The ultrasound proved that the Little Guy was there and healthy and we saw that amazing, beautiful heartbeat for the first time.

Christ has brought joy into my life in countless ways, not the least of which are my husband and son, and I thank Him every day for it. But I also am learning to thank Him for the darkness that comes before the dawn. Because of that darkness, I look at this painting and see not only the affirmation that Christ is the light, but that he is in ALL things, and that our knowledge cannot be made perfect until after the trial of our faith.

With light comes life, but it is the darkness before that lets us know the light best.

Birth story

For those of you who are interested but haven't already seen it, the story of the Little Guy's birth can be found here, here, and here. It's kind of ridiculously long, but then so was labor.

Three poems by Grace Noll Crowell

Today is the first day of National Poetry Month. Orson Scott Card has a post about it on his blog, which includes several poems by Grace Noll Crowell. I hadn't been familiar with her work before (although she did write the words of the hymn "Because I Have Been Given Much"), but three of the poems especially struck a chord with me in relation to the feelings and struggles of infertility and miscarriage, so I wanted to share them with you all.



I think that God is proud of those who bear
A sorrow bravely -- proud indeed of them
Who walk straight through the dark to find Him there
And kneel in faith to touch His garment's hem.
Oh, proud of them who lift their heads to shake
Away the tears from eyes that have grown dim,
Who tighten quivering lips and turn to take
The only road they know that leads to Him.
How proud He must be of them -- He who knows
All sorrow, and how hard grief is to bear!
I think He sees them coming, and He goes
With outstretched arms and hands to meet them there,
And with a look, a touch on hand or head,
Each finds his hurt heart strangely comforted.


A Prayer for Courage
by Grace Noll Crowell

God, make me brave for life,
Oh, braver than this!
Let me straighten after pain
As a tree straightens after the rain,
Shining and lovely again.
God, make me brave for life,
Much braver than this!
As the blown grass lifts let me rise
From sorrow with quiet eyes,
Knowing thy way is wise.
God, make me brave. Life brings
Such blinding things.
Help me to keep my sight,
Help me to see aright,
That out of the dark comes light.



This, too, will pass. O heart, say it over and over,
Out of your deepest sorrow, out of your deepest grief,
No hurt can last forever -- perhaps tomorrow will bring relief.
This, too, will pass. It will spend itself -- its fury
Will die as the wind dies down with the setting sun.
Assuaged and calm, you will rest again,
Forgetting a thing that is done.
Repeat it again and again, O heart for your comfort:
This, too, will pass as surely as passed before
The old forgotten pain, and the other sorrows
That once you bore.
As certain as stars at night, or dawn after darkness,
Inherent as the lift of the blowing grass,
Whatever your despair or your frustration,
This, too, will pass.

—Grace Noll Crowell

Dear Santa.

Dear Santa,

Remember last year?

Well, I just wanted to thank you for the iPod touch you sent me.

It's sure come in handy since the other gift I asked for arrived. (I forgot to mention last year that one of the perks of the iPod is that you only need one hand to use it. Same with my Kindle, even though Shallow Man, rather than you, gave that to me for our anniversary/law school graduation/Mother's Day.)

So, since I got everything on my list, I really don't have anything I want to ask you for this Christmas (at least not for myself. But I trust you'll bring something special for the Little Guy).

But don't worry, I'll still leave out milk and cookies for you. The way I figure it, the way you came through this year, you've definitely earned them.

Respectfully and very gratefully yours, & cetera.



P.S. Oh, also? Remember how I mentioned how a firstborn child was a great gift idea because you could use it for bartering?

Well, after careful consideration of the firstborn son now sleeping on my lap, I take it back.

I wouldn't trade him for anything.

Checking in.

I haven't forgotten this blog, I promise. I've just been, well, busy. And being busy with a newborn, while it is lots of fun and provides cool things to blog about, isn't something I want to continually post about on this particular blog. I know that there were times before I had a child when other people had new babies and were so in love with them and didn't want to talk about anything else and while I was happy for them, it also hurt. I don't want to rub it in anyone's face, as it were.

But I will try to post on here more often in the future.

Not right now, because it's already late and I need to head to bed. But soon.

Surprise, surprise; or, he's here!

I don't have time (or energy) for a full post right now, but just wanted to let you all know that our little guy decided to make an early entrance (or it was decided for him after my blood pressure was dangerously high at my 36-week checkup). He arrived at 6:30 p.m. on Saturday night via c-section and is, quite simply, perfect. No complications for baby or for me so far. I'll share the full story later, but for now, here are my 1000 words:


Yeah, you just WISH your toes were that cute. :)

Checking in.

So it was pointed out to me that I haven't updated in a while. So I'm checking in.

We're at 33.5 weeks now and I am getting progressively more excited and panicky as the date approaches. I'm really looking forward to meeting our little guy, but still feel extremely unprepared. We're slowly but surely making progress on getting what wil be the nursery cleared out and ready for him, but it still has a way to go. Part of the problem is that while my nesting instincts are really kicking in, my energy levels are still pretty low (maybe it has something to do with the anemia? Or the fact that I'm just so cumbersome?) so it's harder to tackle big projects.

Speaking of cumbersome, I feel very big. (My daddy has started greeting me with the title "Great and Spacious One." If anyone else tries to call me that, though, there will be serious consequences.) I haven't gained too much weight this pregnancy (thanks to the brand-new weight loss program I discovered called "First Trimester") but the little guy is carrying really far forward so I stick out. A lot. I have to wash dishes standing sideways because my arms aren't long enough to really reach past my big tummy.

Sleeping is not working out so well. We're about to the point where I can sleep either in a comfortable position or in a position where I can breathe. I'm sleeping in 1.5-2 hour cycles and then have to get up several times during the night. My doctor says I can take Tylenol PM about three times a week to help out, but even then it mostly lengthens the cycles to 4 or 5 hours. I had one night this week where I was able to sleep straight through for 6.5 hours and it was amazing, but it hasn't happened again. The Tylenol does help ease the aches and pains so I don't wake up as stiff in the morning, though, which is also good.

It turned out that I do NOT have preeclampsia (big sigh of relief); just anemia and gestational diabetes (grumble). It hasn't been too much of a problem; it's more of an annoyance than anything else. My levels during the day were staying where they needed to be with diet and exercise but overnight my body always convinced itself that I was starving so my first-thing-in-the-morning levels were always pretty high, which means I have to take a pill to control it (no insulin shots, thank goodness). Unfortunately, because I'm on medication that means they have to monitor me more closely, so I have to go in twice a week to do non-stress tests. Other than the time commitment, though, I don't really mind this because it's a chance to briefly see the kid when they do the pre-test ultrasound to check my amniotic fluid levels, and getting to sit in those incredibly comfortable chairs which miraculously let me breathe AND be comfortable for 30-45 minutes in a semi-darkened room where I can just read and listen to baby's heartbeat is okay by me. It's seriously one of the most relaxing times of my day. (Baby doesn't particularly enjoy it when they have to wake him up with the buzzer to measure his elevated heart rates, though. He's definitely not going to be a morning person; his first experience with the buzzer brought on a tantrum that more than fulfilled the requirement for baby movement during the test and left me giggling because it is kind of hilarious to see my tummy moving like that.)

The main annoyance I have with the GD situation is the weariness of testing 5-6 times a day and having to eat at those regularly scheduled times with all the new dietary restrictions. Carbs and I have always been BFFs and now that I have to carefully monitor how many I'm getting I keep getting confronted (bombarded, really) with ads for donuts or bread or cupcakes or potatoes or whatnot. Also, my main craving during this pregnancy and one of the only things I could reliably count on to keep nausea at bay has been juice. And juice has so many carbs that it's not even worth it now. Also I have to be careful on my fruit levels because of all those natural sugars. So my diet options have become limited and frustrating even though my stomach's nausea-induced picky eating hasn't really subsided. So it's a bit frustrating and I have been spending the last few weeks telling Shallow Man "When the baby comes and I can eat again, we're going to get milkshakes/have an eclair/eat more waffles than you can shake a stick at/get drunk on orange juice/etc."

With all of that, though, I really do love being pregnant, even if I'm not overly fond of the side effects of pregnancy. I love feeling baby kick and wiggle and move around (as long as he doesn't try to dislodge my spleen or start tickling me while I'm driving). I love seeing him move. I love cuddling up next to Shallow Man and having him feel baby go crazy-go-nuts. I love registering for tiny socks (and big hats because our child has a large noggin. The doctor at the first post-diabetes ultrasound was a little worried about his head measurement until she saw Shallow Man's head and heard that we both have a hard time finding hats that fit) and looking at cribs and strollers. I love the sudden realizations that come over me at various times during the day, like "Oh, I'm going to need to get him a stocking for Christmas" or "I will have a TINY BABY to dress up for Halloween this year! Score!" or "If I want to go see that play that's coming in December I will need to arrange for a babysitter then." It's a wonderful feeling to know that our family is growing and that we've made it farther than I thought we would this time last year.

Of course there are feelings of nervousness, too, when I remember what has to happen to actually get the little guy out in public. But I'm finding it's easier to be calm when I focus on the fact that the end result will be, quite frankly, the most awesome baby the world has seen, at least in the last couple of millenia. We can hardly wait to meet our son!


(And I have to admit I'm looking forward to re-discovering what it's like to stand up without having to wait for gravity to finish re-arranging my internal organs and occupant, which inevitably results in my bladder getting squished, followed by a rapid waddle towards the bathroom.)