I just wanted to thank everyone who shared their stories with me because of my last entry.  I can’t truly understand the heartache that comes with a miscarriage –or loss of a child.  Though having carried this baby for 23 weeks, I can almost imagine.  It really takes God to understand hard things like this. 

Coincidentally, my friend Pam told me yesterday about a song I might like.  When I looked it up, I found out that one of the lead singers of that song experienced a miscarriage right before recording that song.  The truths of the song are so perfect for desert times such as those.  Here’s her story and the song.

And I will bring praise
I will bring praise
No weapon forged against me shall remain

I will rejoice
I will declare
God is my victory and He is here

I particularly love the last lines… “This is my prayer in the desert“… which is followed by, “This is my prayer in the harvest, when favor and providence flow, I know I’m filled to be emptied again, the seed I’ve received I will sow.“

Because I didn’t feel the baby move all day Sunday or today, I started to get really worried by the late afternoon.  I started trying to coax the little cashew, “Baby, are you there?  Can you please move a little?”  Admittedly, I’ve been so preoccupied with my studies all day both days, I haven’t had a chance to just sit down and pay attention, so it could’ve been just that, but when I tried to lay on the bed in the afternoon for the purpose of sensing the baby, I still didn’t get any probes or movements.  As a result, I even went online to look up miscarriage symptoms.  Then, finally, when I sat down to eat dinner, I prayed, “Ok, Lord, I’m worried, but I know I need to stop worrying, because you’re God, and it doesn’t matter how much I worry about this, it won’t change anything.  I just need to let it go and trust you.”  And as soon as I prayed those last words, I felt a little probe from the baby.  The timing of the response was unmistakable.  I am strongly reminded of Job’s words, “YHWH natan, v’YHWH lakach” (Job 1:21) – “The Lord gave and the Lord took away;” — and of course, the subsequent declaration, “May it be that the name of the Lord be blessed!”  (my own translation of Job 1:21)  It’s really by God’s prerogative that He gives us anything at all, and so it is also His prerogative to take whatever back whenever He wants.  Truly, everything is a gift from His hand.  I just want to meditate on that today.

P.S. When I finally finished my translation of the passage of Isaiah tonight, which is what I’ve been preoccupied with, and finally sat down and put my swollen feet up to relax, I felt the baby move a lot!  I guess I need to relax more.

As of yesterday, I am now 22 weeks pregnant.  My tummy is at the ‘perfect’ measurement, according to my doctor, and I have gained approximately 20 lbs – yikes!  The hospital bills keep coming and makes us want to cry every time, but all in all, I’m in a good place with the pregnancy. 

I realized, however, that since I was so sick during my first trimester (0-14 weeks), there was much that went unrecorded.  Here’s my attempt at recounting my journey thusfar.  [Warning: the following details may scare you out of pregnancy.]

The first trimester felt really long and drawn out, as I spent literally all day and night on the couch.  The nausea was constant and relentless.  I couldn’t keep any food down, and every time I tried some food, I could only sit for a short while, have a few bites, and then I was back down again.  Poor Sam was always having to get me something new (and different) to eat.  The basics that I was able to consume were crackers, “peanut butter slices” (a slice of bread with peanut butter on top), and soy milk.  I’m not sure how I didn’t just waste away completely since there’d be days when that would be the only thing I would eat.  We kept trying chicken soup until one day I realized that it was the chicken that was making me sick — which made sense, considering the chicken sold in the markets have all kinds of hormones and arsenic injected into them.  The smells of hot foods, in general, was always too strong for me.  I even started disliking garlic and onions being sauteed even though pre-pregnancy, my motto was always “more, more, more” of those!

I threw up pretty regularly – maybe 3 or 4 times a day.  Going to the bathroom made me gag every single time because of the smell (pregnancy = strong sense of smell) — and often, being in there would really cause me to vomit.

During that time, I rarely slept through the night because I kept waking up from dehydration.  My mouth would sometimes be so dry, my tongue felt like cardboard.  I would wake up, drink water, go back to sleep and then wake up an hour or 2 later with dry mouth again.

I hardly left the house during those days, because I was way too sick to move.  When we did go out, Sam had to drive slowly because the bumps on the road made my stomach swirl.  Somehow, we managed to only miss one Sunday morning worship service.  And somehow, I managed to make it through my seminary classes — by God’s grace!

The intensity of the sickness finally relented at 17 weeks.  I started being able to get up from the couch — to help Sam with the dishes — and finally get out of the house to go places.  Vomiting frequency decreased to about once every week or two.  And now nausea really only occurs in the morning after I wake up, when I haven’t had anything to eat for about 2 hours, when I eat certain foods (like chicken and pork), or when any food is old and not fresh (my pregnant body will tell you if it’s old meat!!).  The only meat I’ve eaten since I’ve been able to eat has been beef.  Beef every day.  Sadly, I still don’t ever sleep straight through the night, but it’s no longer from dehydration.

I started feeling the baby move around 16 or 17 weeks but wasn’t confident that it wasn’t just gas bubbles until the weekend of Mar 28 (18 weeks).  After that weekend, I had no doubt that it was the little cashew’s movements.  In the beginning, it felt like bubbles and flutterings.  Now it feels like stronger probes on the inside of my belly.  Sometimes it feels like the baby’s somersaulting inside.  Sometimes it feels like the baby’s dancing on my bladder — seriously.  Moments when the baby has moved the most:  during Hebrew class the other night, when Sam’s tummy was touching mine and he was talking to the baby, and when I was singing some worship songs one night.  It’s fun to feel the baby move.  Such a surprising reminder that there’s a real LIFE inside me – a little person!  It’s so exciting to think about.  Amazing miracle.

These days, I’m enjoying having my “baby bump”.  My tummy is noticeably showing.  I’ll admit, it’s fun to rub.  Sam loves to put his hand on it and say, “Hi, little baby inside.  This is da-da.  How are you doing?  Are you growing ok?  I love you.” 

What I’m not enjoying is the back pain, getting tired so easily (my body can’t keep up with my desires), feet hurting from standing for only a little while, having difficulty getting out of the depths of our sofa, and mostly, urinary incontinence.  That’s probably my least favorite thing to deal with at this point. 

Surprises along the way have been the need to go up in various garment sizes, waking up sweaty in the middle of the night, waking up from overly intense and vivid dreams, waking up from my snoring sometimes (which I never did before), feet feeling too tight in my shoes, wedding ring feeling too tight on my finger (and having to take it off), and even having trouble putting on my own socks when I’m standing because my belly gets in the way.  I can’t really even see my feet anymore when I’m standing.  All of these are apparently, according to the Baby Center, normal pregnancy issues.

Something else not so fun was the ultrasound ordeal.  I call it an ordeal because prior to getting an ultrasound, you have to drink 24 oz of water and wait an hour before you can do the ultrasound.  They say it allows for clearer imaging.  I say it’s just to torture a pregnant lady.  That’s enough to make me have to pee in my pants – literally.

Something funny that happened last Saturday when I went to the Carlsbad outlet with my mom was that my ‘baby bump’ ended up bumping into a clothes display because I misjudged how much space I need.  I don’t think Baby appreciated it too much, so after that, I kept my hand on my tummy as I maneuvered around crowds just in case I ran into something else.

Most embarrassing moments (that I’m willing to tell about) so far:  One day, recently, Sam & I were walking around our neighborhood.  All of a sudden, I started coughing because of some kind of itchiness in my throat.  The coughing turned to vomit — and I had to make my deposit right there in the middle of the street.  Two men were standing nearby and witnessed the whole thing.  I felt so embarrassed!  The second bad vomiting incident happened one night after class.  I got out of my car after parking it and promptly threw up right there next to my car.  I felt like everyone in the neighborhood could hear me — as the noise I was making bounced off all the walls.  Fortunately, it rained shortly after I went inside the house.

One of the nicest things though has been having such a devoted husband, who was so willing to do everything while I couldn’t.  He went to work, cooked, cleaned and took care of me.  I don’t know what we would’ve done if we didn’t have an egalitarian marriage.  We certainly would’ve been sunk.  And every day, he would say, “Thank you for carrying our baby.” because he doesn’t take for granted how difficult pregnancy is and knows what a sacrifice it is for me to give up my body in order to nurture our little baby into this world.  It’s made all this hard stuff a little less hard.

Here’s me at 22 weeks!

The other night when we were in the car with some friends, a cop pulled us over after making a right turn. He had set up cones and was literally waiting for us and all others who would make that right turn on red, so that he could slap us with a ticket.  I was really annoyed that he would just sit there laying in wait, eager to catch people doing wrong.  After the incident, as I thought about it more, I realized that this is pretty much how many people see God.  God is the cop who is just sitting there waiting for you to do something wrong, so that He could catch you and slap you with a penalty.  I’m so glad that this is so far from the truth.  Easter reminds us that God already slapped the penalty on Jesus, so for us, all He has is open arms, waiting for us to come home.  Luke 15 reminds us that God is the lady who rejoices over finding her lost coin, the shepherd who scoops up the missing sheep and puts it on his shoulders near His heart, and the prodigal father who has arms outstretched and a party waiting for the return of his lost child.  May we never be afraid to run home into the Father’s arms.

Click here, to see lyrics to this song by Shane & Shane.

When I first learned about “Good Friday” (for I didn’t know Jesus ’til I was 16), I thought it was such a misnomer.  How could it be “good” when the Savior of the world was dying a cruel death?  Shouldn’t it be “Sad Friday” or “Bad Friday”? 

On this “Good Friday” 2009, it is a dark and gloomy day — just like it was that first “Sad Friday”.  Darkness seemed to reign that day – as the skies clouded over from noon until 3 in the afternoon, and as Jesus hung on the cross crying, “Eli, Eli, lema sabachthani?”  (“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”)  (Mt 27:46) — which is perhaps the most painful and pitiful cry the world has ever heard. 

As I close my eyes and imagine the scene and hear His voice cry out, experiencing the earth quaking and the rocks splitting (Mt 27:51), feeling the cold wind slap my face and seeing my Jesus hanging forlorn on that cross, all I can feel is that this truly is a Sad Friday.  Where are the crowds who shouted Hosanna — and the ones who were so eager to touch Jesus so that they could be healed or to come in close in order to see Jesus perform miracles?  Where are His disciples who said they’d follow Him wherever He went, even to death (Jn 11:16)?  (“You do not want to leave me too, do you?” Jesus asked the Twelve.  Simon Peter answered Him, “Lord, to whom shall we go?  You have the words of eternal life” Jn 6:67-68).  They have all run away (except for the few faithful female disciples and the one male disciple “whom He loved” Jn 19:25).  Even the sun has run away and hidden itself — for the scene is too unbearable to witness.  It is dark and it is cold, and it seems as if the world has come to an end as the King of kings hangs dying.

Jesus, Jesus, thank you for taking upon your shoulders the condemnation of the world.  Thank you for experiencing the pain — the lashes, the mockery, the abandonment and the shameful death — that should have been mine because of my sins, my selfishness, and my inability to completely meet your holy standard of perfection.  Thank you, Jesus, that it was through this death – through your dying and your coming back to life again – that allowed “the curtain of the temple (to be) torn in two from top to bottom” (Mt 27:51), so that we may now enter into the Holy of Holies and speak with you face to face, as a person would with their friend — and which also allowed the tombs to break open (Mt 27:52) so that “Death has been swallowed up in victory” (and we may taunt, “Where, O death, is your victory?  Where, O death, is your sting?”) (1 Cor 15:54-55) — so that anyone who believes in you will live, even though they die; and whoever lives by believing in you will never die (Jn 11:25-26) — so that this dark, sad, bad, seemingly hopeless Friday is really and truly a Good Friday, after all.  Thank you, Jesus.

The wonderful thing about Jesus is that He really is the best friend a person could ever have.  For no matter what is happening in your life, He is right by your side.  He understands everything you’re going through at a heart-to-heart level.  He experiences everything, all of it, with you — every minute, every moment, every breath — whereas even a dear spouse, parent or best friend simply can never do that — even as much as they desire it.  But Jesus can — right there beside you.  And so as much as I love my dear Sam, (whom I do love with such a fierce love, I could spend every minute of every day with him and never quite get enough), Jesus is still the One.  He’s the One I love most, prefer most, desire most, delight in most, for He — only He — can give me fullness of joy.

The dean of our seminary said at chapel the other night that God wants ministers who are humble, broken and who tremble at His word.  It reminded me that if I were not in a place where I was so fully aware of my sinfulness and my wounds, I would not be in a place where God could use me.  I am so quick and eager to want to move past my brokenness, but perhaps I just need to learn how to offer it to Him in a way it could be redeemed.  Does a minister of the Lord truly need to be perfectly whole and healthy?  Maybe that image of perfect wellness is too much overrated.

Only God can heal my wounds, and God can only use those who are broken.  So can you be healed but broken at the same time?  This is a mystery to me.

I used to refuse to believe that God punished people for their sins.  I think I was just too afraid to include that attribute to my definition of God.  It  just didn’t fit in with the beautiful picture I had of Him as loving Father and gracious Savior.  There was no room for a wrathful God in my little box.  But God’s wrath is not unrestrained and unjust as human wrath.  He has righteous wrath.  And if it were true that He never punished sinners for their sins, then He would not truly be a just God; there wouldn’t be a need for Jesus (for truly, we need Jesus); and Jesus wouldn’t have had to be punished on the cross for our sins.  No, God is a God of wrath and He does punish!

But those who believe in Jesus don’t have to worry about punishment, for He has already taken our punishment.  We have already been punished because He has already been punished in our place.

It reminds me of the story of the “whipping boy” by Sid Fleischman.  There once was a naughty prince.  He was a very naughty little boy, and as with all naughty little boys, he needed to be punished for all of his naughtiness.  But because he was the prince – the royal heir – he was not to be touched.  Therefore, his family provided a whipping boy for him.  Every time the prince was naughty and did something bad, the whipping boy got punished in his place — though of course the whipping boy was innocent and inculpable of any wrong. 

Jesus is our whipping boy — except that He took the Ultimate Punishment — He was crucified and died once for all and doesn’t ever need to be punished again.  And this is a true story.  “For Christ died for sins once for all, the righteous for the unrighteous to bring you to God.  He was put to death in the body but made alive by the Spirit.”  1 Ptr 3:18  Thank you, Jesus, for taking on my punishment for me.

“He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.”  Psalm 147:3  Won’t He heal my wounds?  v. 8, “…He supplies the earth with rain and makes grass grow on the hills.”  It strikes me as I read this that without rain, there’d be no grass.  Most people dread the dreariness of rain — but without it, new life would not be able to leap forth.  And so I cry out to God:  when will there be new life that will leap forth from my wounds?  There is an aching and an agony – my wounds feel open and exposed.  Will they ever be bound up?  Is there no balm in Gilead?  Is there no physician there?  (Jer 8:22)  Why has my Physician not yet come?  I cry out to God in sheer desperation.  I can only have healing if He comes — if His Spirit falls on me.

If someone is pursuing you to attack you, you hide.  You find the best place to hide, and if you are successful in making yourself hidden, then you will be saved.  The key is finding a good hiding place.  The psalmist in Psalm 143 found it.  V.9, “Rescue me from my enemies, Lord, for I hide myself in you.”  If I am hidden in God — if God is my shield, my protector, and my cover — then my Enemy (satan) cannot find me — cannot touch me!! — and thus I am saved (I am safe from his attacks).  He won’t be able to pursue me, “crush me to the ground”, force me to “dwell in darkness like those long dead” nor destroy me (Ps 143:3).  Hallelujah!   

“For you died, and your life is now hidden with Christ in God.”  Col 3:3