In the quiet

My house is silent. I can't bear the sound of the TV or the phone ringing. I'm even having a difficult time with the kid currently cleaning out his car in our apartment parking lot, jamming to his radio. Even my brain is seeking silence from itself. I received a box of ordered books from Barnes & Noble yesterday, and one of them is a novel that takes place in 16th-century England, my favorite era in time to escape to...yet I can only read a couple pages in a sitting before I have to give up on reading altogether. I'll start a crossword puzzle -- another favorite mental escape -- and I have to stop because I can't seem to focus on a silly puzzle, because I don't want to focus on it. I just want to sit in the quiet.

Without going into all the crazy details, we found out a couple days ago that William will be born either Monday or Tuesday of next week, depending on how well -- and how quickly -- his Mama's body responds to medicine. Fortunately, praise God, the details aren't too scary, and upping his birthday by a few days is really just a measure of precaution more than anything else. I have a doctor who finally, finally stepped up to the plate and got seriously involved in my healthcare, and boy did she ever. Yes, it's Dr. Pickler, after all. How ironic that she's the one who said, "Let's just get this baby here sooner rather than later, because I'm concerned." The concern I've received all along from my other two doctors, she pours on at the end. Life is funny that way -- now it's her I want to see on Monday morning. We see her again today, just to get checked one more time so we can all feel good/reassured about my status throughout the long holiday weekend. Mostly, we just need my BP to stay at least where it is, if not climb down a few points. If all is well, the next time we see Dr. Pickler is when she'll check me in the hospital on Monday, to see how well I'm progressing in my labor. I can hardly believe I just typed that.

And this is why I'm craving silence. Have you ever nurtured a dream your entire life? Have you ever, for the sake of sanity, had to relinquish that dream? Ever had to let it go because you had to face the reality that it would never be fulfilled? I have. I did. All I ever wanted, from the time I was old enough to dream, was to have a loving husband and sweet babies of my own. Everything else was always, only ever going to be icing on that cake.

I thought I had that cake, once upon a time. I thought I was working on it, at least. Then a few short years ago, I watched as it -- the cake, my life -- crumbled into a million pieces around me. I had no hope of creating a new one; survival was my only goal. Then astonishingly, I did -- I survived. Then, in the midst of achieving survival, I felt the whisper of Jesus Himself..."I came so that you might have life, and that you might have it more abundantly." Really, Lord? You mean me? Shouldn't I be punished for letting it all fall apart? Haven't I utterly failed? Don't I deserve to live out my days in isolation, feeling the weight of my failure? Surely you don't mean to bless me after all that has passed?

It is glorious to me to imagine the smile on my Lord's face as He heard these prayers, and then rubbed His hands together and got started showering me with blessings. First, He eased my mind about the things in the past, and gave me forgiveness for my errings and peace about the things that were not my fault. Then, after He'd healed my heart, He led me straight into the arms of my Marty. Here I am, nearly two years later, and I am still astounded at the gift I've been given. Never, never, never was a wife happier and more assured and more content in the love of a husband. In the words of Jane Eyre, "I am his life as fully as he is mine." I never thought to be able to experience such a depth of love; some days my heart could break at the power of it. I remember thinking, and saying aloud to Marty, if this is all I'm ever given, I am truly a woman blessed beyond measure. Then, miracle of miracles, the one dream I had been forced to abandon so long ago and had no hope of resurrecting...we had the promise of a child -- our child. And of course, I met this promise with all the fortitude of a leaf on a windy autumn day. Even after all the Lord had guided me through, I doubted His goodness. I thought, it's too good to be true, I won't be allowed to have all that I want in life, I won't get to have this shiny new cake (a loving husband AND a sweet baby?) that suddenly appeared before my eyes. Then, week after week after week, the Lord walked me through. I watched in amazement as my belly grew; I couldn't believe my eyes as I watched on a screen my little boy wiggle around inside me. I saw joy on my husband's face and felt it reflected in my own heart. Still, the reality didn't fully set in...

...Until this week, when Dr. Pickler said, "Let's have a baby on Monday." The reality didn't slowly sink in -- it landed on my brain with a thud! It is now real to me, very real to me. Like any first-time mommy, I'm facing down a good-sized mountain of fears about the whole experience, but eclipsing this, truly eclipsing this, is the sense of awe I feel at the Lord Jesus, the Creator and Provider of all perfect and beautiful things. That He would bestow on me my husband Marty, and then give us our sweet William. That at some time on Monday or Tuesday, I'm going to experience the fruition, the blossoming, the fulfillment of my little girl's dream.

So you can see why I need to sit in the quiet. Why I can't be distracted by silly, trivial things right now. Because I am sitting in awe of a MIGHTY GOD. Who loves me. Who has blessed me.

Praise God from Whom all blessings flow,

Praise Him all ye creatures here below!

Praise Him above ye heavenly host,

Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost! Amen!

a scare (long story and not for the weak of stomach)

Yesterday was a very bad day.

It all started on Saturday night into Sunday morning, when I woke myself up...whimpering! I had a blood vessel in the back of my head, on the right side, that was just throbbing. I have a history of migraines and I know exactly what they feel like, and this was simply not a migraine. I took Tylenol and went back to sleep, hoping to wake up feeling better. Well, I woke up feeling worse and took a Butalbital, which is the headache medicine I was given in second trimester when I had chronic tension headaches. After some food and coffee and then a long nap, I woke up feeling even worse. At this point I paged the doctor on-call at my OB/GYN's office, and sadly, got Dr. Pickler, our least favorite. I've sort of made peace with her, attributing her business-like attitude to strict professionalism, which is certainly respectable and a desirable trait in a doctor. However, sometimes you really just want to be listened to and cared about, professionalism be darned! Let's just say she didn't listen to me, didn't ask me any questions, acted extremely annoyed to be on the phone, and then told me to either go to the ER or keep taking Tylenol and call the office in the morning. What kind of options are those? To me, it was either "go bother someone else or bother me tomorrow." Ugh. Fortunately, after more sleep, I woke up feeling a wee bit better, even though I had an empty-head kind of feeling.

Then Sunday night into Monday morning, I had the same experience: woke myself up whimpering in pain. This time, not only was the blood vessel pounding and throbbing, but I'd also lost the hearing in my right ear! So as soon as the doctor's office opened on Monday, I called and pleaded with the front office staff to let me speak to a nurse ASAP, because I was having scary head pains and aches and I really needed help. Thank God the girl I spoke with was feeling sympathetic, because I had a nurse call me back within 10 minutes. I told the nurse what was going on, and she said, "let's not mess with appointments, just come on in." So I called Marty who raced home and picked me up, and we were in the office being seen by Dr. Hinton (our favorite) within the hour. I told Dr. Hinton the whole story and he started out by looking in my right ear, but he couldn't see anything because of too much gunk (sorry to be gross!). Then he touched my head and asked, "have you been running a fever?" And I had to confess that I didn't know, that I hadn't even thought to check. "Well you're burning up!" he told me, and had the nurse come in and take my temp, which was 100.1 degrees. Not too bad, but not good in a pregnant woman, for sure. Then Dr. Hinton started moving my head in different directions, and when he pushed my head back toward my spine, I had pain shoot down my spinal column, which he noticed when I flinched. He moved my head around again and then pushed back, and the pain was worse the second time. Dr. Hinton kind of made a face and left the room for a minute. When he came back in, he sat down on the stool and said, "Well, I'm sending you to the emergency room. I have a very real concern that you may have viral meningitis." I looked over and saw all the color leave Marty's face. Of course, this set off a rush of questions, but Dr. Hinton could only answer so many because he was going to hand me over to another, different set of experts.

So we walked out of the office and to the car, and I called my mom and I think I nearly scared her to death. I could tell she was extremely upset when I got off the phone with her, even though she was trying to hide it. So we showed up in the ER, only to have them send us to the Women's Center because of my obvious late-term pregnancy. We got to the Women's Center, only to have them tell us that we needed to go to the ER. By this time I was already losing patience -- my nerves were already fraying because of course, my head is still pounding at this point! -- so I told the Women's Center admin person that the hospital needed to figure out who would see me, and then someone needed to take me to that person because I wasn't going to keep walking around with a pounding headache and suspected meningitis. Sorry -- I needed to indulge in a bit of a diva moment! (I could tell my hubby thought this was pretty hilarious.) So I got wheeled back to the ER and was shown to a room about an hour later (and you all know how slow time progresses in a hospital, so it felt like 3 hours). After filling out paperwork and waiting another hour in my ER room, a nurse practitioner finally came in and asked me a million questions and told us she'd be working with an attending physician (who we never saw) on my case. She went ahead with the suspected diagnosis of viral meningitis and started all the testing. One of the first things she decided to do was have one of the nurses irrigate my ears, so she could get a good look at my inner ears. While one nurse, Tony, started on this, the other nurse, Rob, got started on my IV and bloodwork. Tony was quiet as he went about his business, but Rob was very talkative and very interested in my case. He offered all the insight he could give, then got my IV line going with absolutely no problems and no bleeding. I was duly impressed! Meanwhile, Tony got my left ear irrigated and my inner ear looked fine, so he moved on to my right ear. Here's where we're not exactly sure what happened: a) either Tony gave up because he encountered a mass in my ear canal, or b) Tony decided to finish later because it was time to take me to radiology for a CT scan of my brain. Anyway, off we went to radiology, and we met another great guy who was the CT technician. He had me sign a waiver form about how much radiation my unborn child would be exposed to (talk about guilty feelings as a parent, oh my GOSH), and then he got me settled on the table and piled lead blankets on top of my belly. At first this was okay, but as they scooted me back into the machine and I knew I'd have to lie still for 5 minutes, suddenly it dawned on me that I couldn't take a deep breath. Then just as suddenly, my little William started flipping out and trying to turn himself in any number of ways, and I realized he could feel all that weight on him and it was making him uncomfortable, too. At this point, I could barely breathe and I felt so bad for the 2 of us and I knew I was on the verge of tears, I started singing "Jesus Loves Me" in my head and praying, praying, praying that these horrible 5 minutes would pass immediately. Finally when I couldn't take it anymore, I cried out to the room in general, "I can't breathe!" The tech said, "oh we're done, I'm coming!" and rushed into the room and got the lead blankets off me and helped me sit up, and he realized that I was sweating and crying and breathing fast, so he got me a cold wet washcloth and got me wheeled back out to my husband as quickly as he could. I grabbed Marty's hand and said, "Look, this is just a headache. These people need to figure this out right now and stop torturing me and stop stressing out my baby!!!" My poor Marty, all he could do was comfort me and assure me that they'd figure it out as soon as they could. They wheeled me back to my ER room, and within a half-hour, my bloodwork and CT scan had all come back with negative/normal results. All along the plan had been to ultimately do a spinal tap on me, which is the definitive method for determining meningitis. However, Rob was the one who gave us the test results and right away he recommended against pursuing the spinal tap, since all my other tests were within normal parameters. Fine by me, I said, but what's causing the headache? Rob started to conjecture a bit and theorized that a hormonal shift in my body, due to labor being somewhat imminent for me, could be causing a very bad hormonal headache. Well, I wasn't buying, and I could tell Marty didn't believe it, either. Heck, I could tell Rob didn't quite believe it. So Rob left to get the nurse practitioner to come in and chat, and Marty got up to go update my mom. While he was on the phone with my mom, she asked him if anyone had ever finished irrigating my right ear. Marty said he wasn't sure, but he'd make sure it happened. Marty came back in and said to Rob, "did her right ear ever get looked at?" And Rob looked at it and could tell it wasn't fully irrigated yet, so he set about finishing the irrigation process (which hurts like the dickens, by the way, since they shoot a huge needle of cold water and hydrogen peroxide right into your ear canal). Finally Rob said he could see a mass plugging the canal, and finally he got it pulled out, and when he did so, I got immediately dizzy and nauseated and disoriented. Then he quick-looked at my ear and said with triumph, "There's your problem, baby-doll, that's the worst-looking inner ear infection I've ever seen!" This is apparently what happened...at some point on Saturday, my infected eardrum perforated and burst, and bled into some surrounding ear wax, causing a build-up of dried blood/fluid that plugged up my ear canal. Because of this mass, I didn't experience the normal dizziness/disorientation that occurs with an inner ear infection, because my tympanic membrane was being held nicely in place. However, this caused a massive headache, a fever, feelings of pressure in my neck, and of course, the loss of hearing in my right ear! Unfortunately for me, this so closely mimicked meningitis that it became the concern and the target of investigation. Unfortunate, in that it caused hours and hours of panic and fear and worry that I might have bacterial meningitis, which is beyond scary in all its implications; that I might have viral meningitis and be looking at an emergency C-section; or that I had something else equally scary and equally threatening to our unborn baby.

So...you can imagine the relief we felt when we got a very simple explanation for a mysterious headache. After a course of pregnancy-safe antibiotics for the infection and some ramped-up Tylenol for pain, I shall be good as gold and quite healthy when I go to deliver a baby in about 3-4 weeks. What a huge, huge relief!!!

Morals of the story:

1. You know your own body. If you have a gut feeling that something isn't right, keep demanding diagnostic procedures and tests until something is found. Several people tried to convince me that my headache was just a "different-feeling migraine." Um, what about that fever then? I knew, KNEW, this wasn't true. I knew something was off, something was different, something wasn't right. Keep the medical staff attending you on their toes until they find something! Believe your instincts!
2. Don't let a doctor blow you off. Go to a different doctor, even in the same practice. Don't worry about ruffling feathers.
3. Stay as calm as you can, even in the face of truly frightening scenarios. Pray, pray, pray. Jesus is near!

List-less March

So my faithful readers, all half-dozen(?) of you, know that I do my "List" every month to chit-chat about the latest doings in my brain and in the Conway household. Well, no List has appeared this month and I'm not going to attempt one on this, the last day of the month, either. To put it bluntly, it's been a difficult month.

Marty had an old estate case to close out in Memphis last week, and most of the month was spent on pins and needles waiting to know how certain aspects of this case (mostly cooperation from other people) were going to play out, and how this would affect Marty's presentation to the judge. I helped in any way I could, including Internet research and signing for 8 zillion mailers from the post office guy (who no longer stares at my pretty substantial belly but just smiles instead), but my contribution was just a tiny drop in the bucket compared to the hours and hours and hours of work my husband invested in this case (not to mention the stress, which I think should be measured in pounds per square inch on the human body!). Thankfully, after much prayer on top of all that hard work, Marty made his presentation to the judge and had the most favorable outcome we could have expected and hoped for. We are so relieved to have this obstacle cleared from our path, but it's curious to see how stress takes a toll -- I think we're still recovering from it!

On top of that, we're really starting to consider the most realistic possibilities for our immediate future. We may not find a job for Marty in Indiana in the next few weeks. We may not be able to move to Indiana before Will is born. I may have to give birth here and make an intense, exhausting move when our son is only just a few weeks or months old. As much as we'd like to take a few risks and move right now, with this economy and job market and me going on maternity leave in July, we have to be wise and careful and cautious. I don't take well to careful maneuverings...I never have. I like to take leaps of faith, but it's funny how quickly you become a parent, even when your child isn't born yet. It's not about me anymore, it's about the best situation for our son, and of course that is dependent on what we can realistically provide him with what we have right now, right in front of us, unless and until those things change. I've spent a lot of time this month trying to relinquish control of our lives to God, and that's never an easy process. And even though I'm still working on it, I'm starting to make preparations for Plan B, even though Plan B is just about the last thing I want to do. It's become one of those times in life when the rubber meets the road faith-wise and that's always the best time to stop, take a breath, and just count your blessings. At the end of the day, no matter where I happen to be geographically, if my son is born healthy and I am healthy after delivering him, and Marty and I and Will are together as a family, then that is far and away the greatest blessing in this whole world. Yes, it would be nice to be settled where we're going to be for the long run, have a functioning, tidy home and have the right jobs, and be in a great church, and surrounded by loved ones, and so on and so forth, but these are nice things, not vital things, and my perfectionist self just has to deal with that! Moral of the story? Sometimes gifts don't come with all the accessories. But that's no reason to be ungrateful for the gifts!

In any case, March shall remain List-less and I hope to continue my little tradition next month (and I may even revamp it a bit). Lots of new posts coming soon...April is Autism Awareness Month and I have lots to share on this topic! Stay tuned...and if you remember to, say a little prayer for us and all the decisions that must be made in the coming weeks. We would greatly appreciate it!

Please pray

I have a "blog-friend" in Arkansas named Kelly. We've emailed a couple of times but mostly I feel like I know her well from reading her blog. She is truly a shining spirit and a sweet soul; her happiness and joy bless me often. Kelly and her husband Scott prayed for a baby for a couple of years, and their joy became complete tonight when their baby girl, Harper, was born. Then every new mama's worst nightmare came true: Harper had trouble breathing and it was determined that she has severe pneumonia. This sweet baby is now being transported via helicopter to a children's hospital where she will soon undergo a surgery to save her life.

I can't even begin to express how this distresses me. And I don't think it's just because I'm pregnant and I can only begin to imagine what Kelly is going through. It's more than that -- it's the horror of a small child struggling for life. It's the horror of a child literally being flown away from her mother's eager and empty arms. It's just plain horrible. This is one of those times when faith takes the driver's seat. You either believe that God is good and sovereign -- no matter what, or you abandon that belief. Sometimes the best things in life are the hardest. It's hard to believe when you hear a story like that, but believe I will and believe I must. It is my heart's prayer that sweet Harper be restored to health, and that she be restored to her mama and daddy's loving arms. If you can, please join me in this prayer.

in defense of Christianity

After recently ranting against extremism in Christianity, I'm now going to take up the cause of Christianity because, well, I have things to say. And this is my blog, so I'm going to say them.
I am so deeply grateful to be a Christian, to know the love of Jesus Christ. With tears in my eyes writing this, I can sincerely say that I'm constantly overwhelmed by joy from the blessings in my life directly from His hand. After years of living in a truly awful marriage (and covering up that fact to the outside world), I was delivered from it with clear finality and was surrounded by angels in human form who bore me up with such grace and love, I could feel through them the strength of Jesus. My parents, my sisters, my best girlfriends, all joined my huddle and the fight to build my life again. With a shattered heart and a confused faith, I approached the throne of God with a simple plea, Help me through this, help me make it to the other side, wherever that is, and help me know who You really are. In fact, I even tried for awhile to completely throw off my faith, to see if it was another illusion with which I'd been living for so long. And you know what? It didn't work. I couldn't fling it away. Because you see, my faith is part of me. It's my identity and it's my very soul. My whole life I have felt the beautiful presence of God, and I've always known Him from the way my parents lived their lives and brought Him to every dinner table and every bedtime prayer. God's blessing was solicited for traveling, for healing, for peace at family functions, and even for math tests. And in the midst of the worst crisis of my life, God made His presence known to me, again and again. He was there with love and forgiveness and understanding and help and hope. God saved my eternal soul a long time ago, but He saved my earthly life, too. He was there as I picked up each little piece of Becky and glued her back together. And He was there when I met my husband. Some might say that Marty and I met by chance, but we both know differently. It was a connection guided by the most loving hands, the hands of our Creator and Redeemer. Marty and I give God all the credit for bringing us to each other and bestowing upon us the greatest human blessing of all, the gift of a soulmate.
I say all of this for a reason. My faith in Christ is the best thing I have to offer to this world, because the love of Christ inspires love in me. Without Him, I could very well be a bitter, angry, useless shell of a person right now, and this is no exaggeration, because I was tempted toward that path several times. Because Jesus loves me, I am proud to bear the title of Christian. And I am proud to be all the things that define Christians, and further, that define conservatism. I believe in the sanctity of life and the holiness of marriage. Of course that means I believe abortion to be murder and marriage to be between a man and a woman only. I believe what the Bible teaches me about these things. And you know what? This makes me incredibly uncool. Oh the pitying looks and the withering remarks I've had. And not just uncool...it makes me dumb, ill-informed, and worse, stupid. I consider myself to be a very bright, well-educated woman with a love for learning and knowledge. I can speak with a certain confidence on many, many subjects because I'm self-taught in many, many areas. But none of this matters when you also happen to be a Christian and a conservative. All of your education and hard-earned life wisdom fly out the window if you express adherence to the Christian faith. For some reason, this boils me down to a mere simpleton in the eyes of others who have it "really" figured out. To some people, being a Christian doesn't make you someone of another opinion, it makes you stupid.
I've never felt this more keenly than in the last few hours, with the result of this election. I watched a few minutes of The View this morning, and when Elizabeth Hasselbeck, the die-hard Christian conservative, spoke, her words brought me to tears. She accepted the defeat of her team with grace and beauty, and she said, "I'm going to get behind the new president, because that's what Americans do." Of course, the ladies surrounding her looked at her with the same brand of pity I've seen in the eyes of people I know, like "oh poor thing, she didn't know any better to vote for the RIGHT guy."
So I've realized something. Christians will always be uncool. We'll always be labeled anti-progressive, hateful, and ignorant. Why? Because we believe in certain black-and-whites, like the truth of sin. We believe in a different kind of love, the kind that doesn't say, Anything goes, but the kind that says, You're a sinner but I love you anyway, and I came to give you freedom from your sin.
So I'll never fit in with the cool kids. I can accept that. Because Jesus told me I wouldn't fit in, that I shouldn't fit in. He told me not to be conformed to this world, but to be transformed by the renewing of my mind to a higher love that humans can't attain outside of His power. He told me I'm just a traveler, passing through this place on my way to my heavenly home. He told me I might even be persecuted for taking His name and identifying myself with Him.
But you know what? I'd rather be on His side, because of all the beautiful things He's done for me. I've seen His hand so clearly in my life, and really, standing up for Him and for the truth is the least I can do in return. There are people who might read this and write me off as ridiculous, and I can't do anything about that. Because I have to be true to my soul, which belongs to Jesus.

Random thoughts, round 2

I haven't posted in a little while and that's mostly because I haven't felt well this week. I think I'm battling strep throat and I really need to suck it up and find a local doctor. I don't really want to because I adore my doctor back home in Indiana, who has been my doctor since I was 5 years old! Anyhoo, just wanted to jot down some thoughts rolling around in my head, from the extremely trivial to varying levels of higher importance.

• I feel a rant coming on toward legalistic Christians. I grew up going to a very strict private Baptist school, and I experienced legalism in just about every form imaginable. I must state that my parents were not among this crowd; they sent us to the school so we could get a top-notch education, which we did. What they didn't bargain for was all the irrational spiritual "sludge" (my term) that would be crammed into our minds along with our A-B-C's. Anyway, for most of my adult life, I've attended non-denominational churches and more recently, a Lutheran church (which is truly my church "home" -- they are ALL ABOUT grace!). However, I still read lots and lots online about current thinking in the modern-day church, and lately, what I'm reading is scaring me. It's scaring me because it's so deeply familiar. For example, practicing yoga is a sin? Er...WHAT??? Seriously, people, let's get back to the basics of Christianity. Love God and love your neighbor. This is the message that Jesus preached to us over and over and over again. Why? Because that's the heart of Christianity, not spending all our time worrying over sin. We've been freed from the law!!! Let's live in GRACE. Like my pastor says, "Live in the gift." I could go on and on, but that's a good summary for now. I've a feeling I'll be revisiting this topic again soon, though. Stay tuned. For more ranting.
• And on to a completely different topic...how many of you ladies use Oil of Olay? I'm 31 years old, and suffice it to say, I've had pretty crappy skin for oh, 17 years? I've tried everything on the market to help with acne and dryness, and I mean everything: Proactiv Solution (which works until I break out into hives), all the over-the-counter products, several expensive salon products, even the prescription drug, Accutane (which you can NOT be on if you're sexually active...even with the required 2 forms of birth control, the possible birth defects are truly scary). Anyway, I don't recall how I got the idea to moisturize my skin to the nth degree, but last week I bought Oil of Olay day cream and night cream. And holy cow, kids, it works!!! My skin is not only soft and smooth, it's CLEAR. It's like a drugstore miracle. Maybe my skin was just starved for moisture all these years? Typical of me...struggle for years with something only to find a very simple solution.
• This weekend, Marty and I will be continuing our search for economical but high-quality king-size mattresses. People who know me personally, know that I'm a champion sleeper. Seriously, I have the equivalent of a black-belt or a gold medal or an Oscar in sleeping. I'm that good at it, and enjoy it that much! So I can't stress enough the importance of a good mattress to my championship sleeping...yet in my old age, I'm becoming something of a penny-pincher. Does anyone have any good recommendations on where we should be looking for mattresses? The next decade of my sleeping quality depends on what you say...so no pressure.
• It's official...we're going to NYC for Thanksgiving weekend! We'll be flying out Thanksgiving morning and then making our way to Long Island, where Marty's Aunt Becky lives. We'll be staying until the next Tuesday, so there will be plenty of time with the Fam PLUS time by ourselves in the great city! Yes, it won't be long until I can personally say...