Why "Owen Ray" and more ultrasounds

On Monday Andrew and I were thrilled to be able to finally find out the gender of our baby Titus! It felt like forever since we had found out we were pregnant, and we couldn't wait to know more. The day I took the pregnancy test was rough (long story of me doubting whether or not I was correct in reading it, and if I was going to celebrate something that "didn't exist" but even bigger sin of not believing that God would want to give us a gift of a child...) and we ended up trying to have a celebration dinner, but doing a lot of praying and crying (that was me) and encouraging (that was Andrew). 

Needless to say, we planned on having a small dinner out - just the two of us - right after we finished with the ultrasound. Finally I can celebrate I thought. It would be perfect, why wouldn't it be?

I was nervous and super excited going into the ultrasound, and kept being absolutely amazed at how this small child of ours was moving around, and now I could actually feel the movements I was seeing on the screen! Everything was looking perfect, baby was healthy and growing well. The ultrasound tech moved over an area of baby's liver and stopped, pausing briefly to take a few screen shots of the picture. I couldn't help but think to myself that there was a random bright white dot that looked terribly out of place. As the tech didn't say anything about it, I dismissed my fears and continued being excited.

After the ultrasound was complete - the tech brought in the radiologist who, to my confusion and fear, looked immediately back to the spot on my baby's liver. She poked around a bit, and said that it most likely was nothing, but that it was up to my doctor whether or not she would want further ultrasounds to determine what it was.

I panicked. Every single fear and unbelief I had about God not giving a good gift, about things going right only for God to pull the rug out from beneath me, about never celebrating or being joyously hopeful about something before it was actually there and complete came washing over me yet again. I tried to be ok, but feared the worst immediately. Andrew was concerned, but knew without a doubt how trustworthy God was and that he trusted Jesus with our baby and his/her health. We walked to a small area outside the hospital to open our gender-reveal envelope and Andrew prayed for me and baby. I knew that it would be ok but completely let myself go down the rabbit holes of fear and forgot the goodness of my Savior. That he was in control, and loved me enough to die for me, and already loved my unborn child as he knitted that baby together in my womb. 

Needless to say, the dinner wasn't the one filled with tears of joy and laugher we had pictured. Both of us were thrilled to find out we were having a baby boy, but I was stuck in the unknown. I regretted staying there, but stayed there nonetheless. I am daily reminded of how good God is through my amazing husband, but Andrew was again used by God in such a great way that evening - he pointed me back to the truth of God, Jesus's love for me and our baby, and the truth that it was completely out of our control either way.

Talking with my doctor Wednesday, she assured me that it was most likely no big deal and told me she really didn't want me to be worried at all about it. The coolest thing though, was that while her tone and confidence in baby's health was helpful, God had walked me through a day and a half of fear and lead me time and time again to truth and comfort. I poured over Psalm 139 and 1 Samuel 1 and 2 -- crying and pleading with God to comfort me, and to forgive me for assuming the worst, even when it was most likely nothing at all. For doubting his goodness and his love for me, and for playing "god" as I determined my fears were the future in no regard to God's true plans.

We have another ultrasound scheduled for the beginning of September, just to see if whatever it was goes away (as apparently most things do). My genetic screening tests were awesome earlier, and it seems as though my doctor isn't too worried. It is so interesting to me though that the littlest of things can catapult me to the most extreme fear and worry. What a difficult but oh so worth it lesson in standing at the foot of the cross and surrendering my plan and child completely to Jesus. 

_________________

Why Owen Ray though?

Andrew and I had thought about names for months, but had not come to a consensus on a boy's name until about a month ago. We knew we wanted something biblical - a strong name of a man who was after God's heart and lived his life for God's glory (as much as a sinner can...). We came up with plenty of names, but nothing really seemed right. Then, as God was revealing some pretty deep sin in my heart, I began to read the book "The Mortification of Sin in Believers" by John Owen. For some reason, the name Owen stood out and I adored it. Apparently so did Andrew :) Owen was a English theologian during the 1600s who loved the Lord and had some pretty legit theology. Who knows what God has in store for our Owen's life, but I can't wait to talk about why he has his name, and have nerdy theology discussions with him and his Dad for fun :)

The name Ray is special for two reasons - both my Dad and Andrew's maternal Grandfather are/were named Ray. I had always wanted to name a son after my dad, and it was a total blessing to be able to have men on both of the sides honored with our son's middle name. 

Our little Owen Ray is already so dear to us and loved immensely. I love seeing Andrew talk with him and read to him every night, and I am constantly reminded of miracles when I feel him moving around inside of me. I am still in awe of what God is doing in our little family, and can't wait to share with Owen how much he was prayed for and loved even before he drew his first breath. 

"For this child I prayed, and the LORD has granted me my petition that I made to him." 1 Samuel 1:27

Back pain and a whole lot of sin.

Out of all of the adjectives I would have used to describe myself, independent was never one I would have chosen. Passionate, old-fashioned, quirky - all yes, but independent? Not even close. Prideful? Probably, but not to a great extent. 

Until this month.

Some people say that circumstances make you stronger. I disagree. I believe without a shadow of a doubt that the God who loved me enough to die for me uses any means necessary to draw me into a deeper relationship and sweeter knowledge of his grace and mercy. Even more, I know he is using my inability to be independent and my current back pain to show me his character in a way I only thought I knew before.

I was diagnosed with kyphosis and scoliosis in middle school, wore a brace for over a year, and have fought back pain since, but haven’t had pain this nearly debilitating since 2009. When I was first diagnosed I remember my doctors talking about how if I ever were to have children I could be in for a tremendous amount of pain, but as a 14 year old I could care less. Now as a 25 year old well into my second trimester of my first pregnancy, their concern makes a lot more sense.

To be honest, I could write a lot about the pain and discomfort which happens when my back is like it has been. I could write about not being able to drive the 15 minutes to my doctor’s office without wincing, or how I had to lay down on the bathroom floor last week after cleaning for a half hour, because I knew the pain was bad enough I had to stop, NOW. But really, the pain isn’t what has most characterized these past few weeks. It’s there, and difficult yes, but what God has been teaching me through the pain is vastly more important.

So far, I have learned that I am much more like the Galatians than I ever would have cared to admit. In Paul’s letter to the Galatians, he makes the case strongly and passionately that Jesus’s work on the cross is all that is needed for salvation, and that if we are to add ANY work (whether that be following the Jewish laws like circumcision for the Galatians, or me adding my various roles and titles of ministry at Mars Hill, or a clean house and dinner made for Andrew) to the cross in attempts to earn favor with God or a more right standing before him, makes Jesus a joke the cross absolutely worthless.  

Whether I could see my sin or not before my back pain began again this month, God has been showing me that I have attempted to justify myself apart from only believing the cross for so many years. My fears of being lazy around the house if I don’t have it perfect by the time my husband comes home from work, and my dread of him having to make dinner or help me run my errands like grocery shopping only were the tip of the problem. What it comes down to really, is not believing that Jesus is enough for me. That I can do it on my own, and that I need to be perfect to be a good wife, or a good follower of Jesus. I so badly wanted to fulfill my role as a wife, that I forgot the most important part was to adore Jesus with every ounce of my being. As for ministry, I worried that backing down from roles because of the pain would be seen as a cop out, and laziness as well. That instead of grace, those around me would see my weakness as failure and a lack of love of Jesus. I so deeply wanted those around me to know the redemption that God has for them, that I pushed through pain that should have shown me I needed to rest, in order to maintain the level of discipleship and ministry was doing. 

How incredibly wrong and sinful I have been. How much unbelief? The greatest thing is though, that even if I was blind to all of this, God never was. And never for a moment would he leave me sitting in this mess of lies and doubt and “Jesus + my works = justification and righteousness”. No, the God I love is such an incredible God that he would use anything to get my attention. C.S. Lewis has a quote which says: “pain insists upon being attended to. God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks in our consciences, but shouts in our pains. It is his megaphone to rouse a deaf world.” 

Without question God has used this pain to show me his love and patience with my sin. The idea of “sitting around” all day terrifies me. I want to do something, and serve, and love my husband well. But yet, the ways I have been prior to now are not the ways God is asking me to walk in during this season. This means a ridiculous  amount of my independence and pride needs to die. The fear which stops me from taking up offers from friends to help me clean, and go grocery shopping for me needs to be laid at the foot of the cross and repented of. The pride which is mortified at the thought of a friend seeing how dirty my bathroom really is needs to come before Jesus and see him as so much mightier. The feeling of uselessness which is spurred on by greeting my husband as I lie on an ice pack on the couch when he gets home, rather than putting dinner on the table in a perfectly clean house, must trust in my Savior’s total and complete work on the cross and not in my picture of an ‘ideal wife’. 

Funny. When I found out I was pregnant I began praying for many things, but the one on repeat (along with Baby Titus coming to full term as a healthy baby who loves Jesus even from my womb...) has been that God would bring me to a place where I could not even fathom spending a day without being in his Word, or praying. That even during the chaos which is motherhood, I would know without a doubt that I could not make it through one day, one hour, one moment without my Savior. God seems to be answering this. Not quite in the way I was anticipating, but in a way far more deep than I pictured. 

Yes, I am praying for God to supernaturally take my back pain away. Or that he would work through the physical therapy (I start with a more specialized therapist this coming week actually, as my former therapist could do “nothing more” to help stop the pain or progression). But ultimately, I am praying that God would draw me closer to him, and that I would lean on him like I never have before. That he would break me where I need to be broken, and mold me into the woman, wife, and future mother he desires me to be. It’s not an easy season, but I know God is bigger. And I am extremely grateful for Jesus’s work on the cross, a husband who loves me enough to gently demand I rest and lay down, and a community and church which are meeting needs I never knew I had.  

We shouldn't be having this baby.

We shouldn’t be having this baby.

It sounds surprising and shocking. Why joyously announce a pregnancy when you think you shouldn’t be having a child? To tell you the truth, it is shocking, but not in the way you’re thinking.

I grew up wanting to be a stay at home mom. Oh, I wanted to be a singer, an actress, a marine biologist and a teacher, but deep in my heart, I desperately wanted to be a mom. Late in elementary school through undergrad I battled anorexia. I always had irregular cycles, but lost my period altogether for nearly a year after many years of starvation. It scared me. I told myself that something had to change or I would never be able to have kids. Once it returned, things did change, but in a terrible way.

Five years later I found myself deeper into my eating disorder than I ever imagined was possible. By “found myself” I mean I willingly walked into a sinful relationship, and instead of heeding the gentle warnings of my Savior and God I turned my back on him. This relationship, I thought, had “saved me” from anorexia. Like Gomer though, I thought my lover had saved me, when all the while God had provided and saved me with his own hand and provision (Hosea 2:8). In reality, the relationship turned more and more unhealthy, and was characterized by manipulation, control, abuse, and sexual assault. I wanted out. I wanted to feel numb. I wanted to die. I cut, I starved, I purged, and I continued to run from the God who had saved me.

Through the grace of God alone, I left that relationship. I had physical and emotional scars, but God had broken in and broke my heart to him once again - I was the prodigal daughter. God lifted the depression, the cutting, the purging, and the starvation. I struggled to believe a man who loved Jesus would ever want something as tarnished as I, but God continued to walk with me. I found him redeeming every part of my heart, especially my sinfully false beliefs about his forgiveness and goodness. The following year, a man who loved Jesus began to pursue me. I didn’t know a lot about him other than he had been redeemed from much,  and that he loved God more deeply than I ever thought was possible. He worshiped Jesus, he loved me well, and 3 1/2 months later he asked me to marry him. As we walked through dating and engagement we walked through our pasts, and it became time for me to face a dark reality with my future husband - I may never be able to have children. The years of abuse I wrecked my body with had stopped my cycle completely. A round of hormone therapy had been tried, but was unsuccessful. My sin had deep consequences. My godly fiancé stayed. He comforted me, lead my back to the truth of Jesus, and prayed for me. 

One month before our wedding I decided to try one last round of hormonal treatment. Only hours before I picked up the prescription, Andrew called me. He had a “weird” feeling and wanted to know how long the drug could be active in my system, and if there were any warnings about it. I called the pharmacist, who informed me it had a small precautionary warning - due to the drug forcing a menstrual cycle, if in the unlikely chance I became pregnant during the treatment, it could become abortive. It would stay in my system three weeks, which meant 3-4 days into our marriage. Through tears streaming, we knew I could not risk it, and cried out to God. I felt as though I looked like Hannah (in 1 Samuel 1:12,13) but God comforted me in the truth that he, and he alone, opened and closed wombs. We prayed for my womb to be opened by God, and cried, and prayed some more. 

Two weeks before our wedding, I started my period.

After our wedding, and after my hopes of conceiving on our honeymoon were gone (I thought for sure that was God's plan - how perfect right?), WebMD said that my periods were still too off for conception. They had their red warnings signs up saying that they calculated I was not ovulating, and should seek medical help. I was angry. I was hurt. My "perfect plan" might not happen. But, in those weeks, and through many tears, God brought me to a place where I could honestly say I deeply wanted a baby, but without hesitation I wanted God’s will for my womb above a child. 

The end of April though... I saw a pink "+". 

We’re now ending our first trimester, and are still in awe of God’s hand in our lives and this pregnancy. A few weeks ago my OBGYN’s jaw dropped when she heard about my medical history and irregularity/absence of periods. She commented about how it was unusual that I could have gotten pregnant under those circumstances, or actually at all. All we could do was shrug and smile. 

So, we really shouldn’t be having this baby. But God’s plan was different than our “should’s” and “should not’s”. This baby, who God is knitting together in my womb, has been prayed for, and prayed over, and longed for so deeply. Falling in love with my child causes me to stand more in awe of God’s grace and power and love than I ever have in my life. 

Baby Titus truly is a miracle. 

For you formed my inward parts;

you knitted me together in my mother's womb.

I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.

Wonderful are your works;

my soul knows it very well.

My frame was not hidden from you,

when I was being made in secret,

intricately woven in the depths of the earth.

Your eyes saw my unformed substance;

in your book were written, every one of them,

the days that were formed for me,

when as yet there was none of them.

(Psalm 139:13-16 ESV)