Haven't had time to get caught up with things...so no time for blogging...but just wanted to jot a few thoughts from the last few weeks:

Parenting without prayer is impossible.

If it wasn't so hard, I wouldn't pray.

I have to decide now whether I will worry about every moment of her life or trust God for her every moment.

"I am a conqueror and co-heir with Christ -- so firm on His promise I'll stand."  (Desert Song)

Our little baby is coming soon -- very, very soon -- and we are super excited to be parents again.  Again.  Although this will be our first time as biological parents, it won't be our first time as parents.  It feels a little different this time around.  The anticipation of our biological baby is visible with my growing belly, with all the doctor's visits, with physical changes in my body, the ultrasounds and the universal excitement from all.  The anticipation of our foster baby was less visible - no bodily changes, no ultrasounds and mixed feelings from everyone around us.  Expecting a biological baby has been quite an experience.  There really is something so incredible and amazing about God developing a little life inside of me and the bonding I've already gotten to experience with this little baby.  But expecting a foster baby was also quite the experience as well.  It is no less wonderful and no less special to have an adopted/foster baby.  Having been down both roads, I wanted to set the record straight.  Some people foster/adopt because they are unable to have biological children.  Some people foster/adopt because they have been given that unique ability to love the orphans which God so often speaks of.  Both find, in the adoptive experience, the wonder, the beauty, and the joy in giving love in the way that the Father does.  There is nothing on earth that can replace doing as He does, imitating His character, being obedient to His will, embodying His love, and identifying with His heart. 

We absolutely love, love, love our coming biological baby!  But we also absolutely love, love, love the little foster baby that God gave us a year ago, and we will absolutely love, love, love the future foster/adopted babies that He will give to us.

Whenever Sam goes away on a work trip, we always hug and kiss goodbye at least a dozen times.  It always crosses my mind that this could be the last time I would see him.  As I thought about him today on the drive to the doctor's, I realized again what a gift God has given me in Sam. 

As we have attended childbirth classes and gone to our hospital tour and met other dads-to-be as well as fathers of young babies, I've been able to see what a contrast Sam is to them.  A lot of these dads scoff, mock or make jokes about childbirth and labor.  The moms are intent on learning; they're concerned, they're making themselves ready for this grand new responsibility.  But a lot of these dads seem far-removed -- or at least, very much so backseat participants and observers with an attitude of, "This is her thing, not mine.  I'm just here to be support if necessary."  Sam is so different from them.  He is truly my partner in all this.  This is our thing.  Not only is he in the front seat, sometimes he is driving!  He is more eager to read up all the information we need to know about pregnancy and childbirth than I am.  He was the one to do the research to find the best OB and the best hospital for us to have our baby.  And he has told me not to worry about trying to find a pediatrician because he'll take care of doing the research.  And unlike other dads who dread and despise going shopping for baby things and getting things ready for the baby (i.e. we've heard other dads complaining about how difficult it is to put the crib together, etc), Sam's always more than happy to do these things.

And how he loves our little baby!  He's always talking to the little baby in my tummy and so excited when Baby moves.  It just doesn't get old for him (which I thought it would by now).  If I tell him the baby's moving, he'll stop what he's doing, come to my side and put his hand where the baby had moved, and he'll wait and wait until the baby moves again.  Every movement, every hiccup, every jab and roll is like a little miracle to us, and he has yet to treat it like it isn't.  He really loves our little baby!  There's no way to describe the depth of his love for this little life that neither of us has met.  There is so much eagerness, excitement and anticipation.  Witnessing his love for our little baby helps me understand - even just a glimpse - of 1John 3:1, "How great the love the Father has lavished on us that we should be called children of God!"  Such endearing love Sam has for our little one -- even before s/he has even done one good deed, smiled at us or done anything remotely "cute" -- a love that has been formed and forged and developed simply because this little one belongs to us.  God created him/her, and s/he is ours to take care of until He sees fit to take him/her home.  And we love this little one deeply, just because.  That's what God's unexplainable love for us is like, measure for measure.

What a gift that God has given Sam to me to be my partner in life.  There is no one more devoted, loving and wonderful as him.  How much I love him - words cannot describe.  Thank you, God, for this best gift that you have ever given me.  May I endeavor to give you sufficient praise for your lavish love toward me (in giving him to me) all the days of my life!

On my walk yesterday, I suddenly had a recollection of how challenging it is to have a baby in one's care.  There's a never-ending, constant demand on your energy.  There's a huge sense of physical, emotional and spiritual responsibility.  Parenting is seriously the most difficult job in the world.  And then this sense of panic hit me -- what did I sign up for??  Unlike fostering, there won't be an end time when we will give the baby back!  This biological baby is ours for keeps (which is AWESOME, but...).  Our baby could be colicky, whiny, loud, constantly running around, full of high energy.  I love my life of tranquility, quietness, routine and order.  So of course, I can just imagine God wanting to throw a wrench in the system and give us a 'non'-easy child so that we would develop character.  haha.  This thought made me squirm, but as I prayed, I began to realize that it's not so bad that God would want to use our child to teach me even more about flexibility and spontaneity than I have ever learned before.  Perhaps s/he'll have the kind of charm that will draw people more in to our lives.  These are good things, not bad things. 

The idea of having something challenging, though, is challenging.  But, then again, if it's going to happen anyway, why not invite it?  Why not have the attitude of openness?  Why not have the posture of teachability?  The more I thought about this, the more I began to realize that for far too long, I've been running away from things that are difficult and challenging --but why do I do this?  The reality is that challenging things will come my way anyway, why not invite it and wait for it with expectation...knowing that through trials, God develops in me perseverance, and from perseverance a maturity and completeness so that I would not lack anything (James 1:2-4).

Parenting is full of joys -- this is what everyone focuses on when you're expecting a baby on the way.  But I don't want to be so deceived as to forget that it is full of challenges too -- challenges that will result in more maturity which means more joy.  So bring on the challenges, God, I'm ready (with You by my side).

A friend sent me a link to this article (click here) where a dad tries on pregnant belly suit for a day in order to understand what his wife went through during pregnancy.  I like the article and think all men should try to walk in the shoes of a pregnant woman at least once in his life!  The belly suit may not be completely accurate, but it does its job of cultivating empathy and understanding. 

Some of the things I appreciated about the article was how the author identified the sense of loneliness that pregnant women feel.  Even though I have a very compassionate, supportive husband, the truth is, being pregnant is still something that only my body is going through.  Some of the heartache I've experienced during this pregnancy has been from wishing that he could really share the burden with me.  When it's been particularly hard, I've asked him (ridiculously) to 'take the baby from me and put it in your belly'.  And though he is lovingly sympathetic, sometimes I keenly feel that it's like he's just standing on the outside, looking into a window at me. 

There's also a sense of helplessness when it comes to pregnancy, which the author accurately identifies.  Your body is out of your control; it does things that you didn't tell it to; and it surprises you at every turn.  And with all this new weight you're carrying around, your pelvic bones weakening and the real exhaustion that you feel, there's a great limitation to what you can do.  You can't pick up things off the floor, get off the couch without a boost, carry things that are too heavy, or even chase your husband around a little room without feeling wiped out.  I thought it was funny that the author's Granny said, "I bet you can't tie your own shoes."  He thought she was just poking fun of him, but around here, it's a daily reality.  Sam has to tie my shoes for me. 

Lastly, the author expressed an admiration for women who are willing to endure pregnancy a second time.  I agree!  I'm amazed by women who will do it a second time.  And the funny thing is that I had always thought that the only women who are willing to be pregnant again are the ones who had pleasant, painless experiences -- but the more women I talk to, the more I realize that I was wrong.  Just last night, I spoke to two women at my church who had very difficult first pregnancies.  However, they both had three more after that.  These women are my heroes.  I will not be in this category.

Being a mom is the toughest job in the world... and that job doesn't start with the day the baby is born.  It starts at conception. 

I had another encounter this weekend with someone who asked me whether or not it was driving me crazy that I didn't know the gender of our baby.  My answer?  No, not at all.  I think most first-time parents are driven to find out, mainly, to have one aspect about parenting not-as-much of a mystery so that they can at least plan for and 'control' for that much of this crazy new venture of parenthood.  That really was how I felt when we were preparing to be foster parents this time last year.  I wanted to know whether we would have a boy or girl just so I could get the clothes all ready.  But the reality is that other than clothes, there's really nothing else that we need to prepare for gender-wise.  It would be financial suicide (for poor people like us especially) to buy gender-specific carseats, strollers, bedding, and room decor, because if we ever had a #2 who was a different gender, we'd have to purchase everything anew -- and that's just not good stewardship of God's money to us.

Aside from all this, I think it's fun having gender be a mystery.  All those moments when Sam says to the baby, "Are you a boy or a girl?" would be lost otherwise.  It's fun to wait with expectation and wonderment:  What's our baby going to look like?  What's his/her name going to be?  Is it a boy or girl?  It's like when Sam is going to give me a gift, I hate it when I spoil the surprise by accidentally discovering that something is coming.  I'd rather be totally surprised when he hands me the gift.  It's more fun that way.  In the same way, I just want this gift to be a full realization all at once.  (Plus, the surprise factor will be more incentive during labor.)

And for us, it really doesn't matter whether we have a boy or girl.  We're not driven by any traditional desires of having a boy carry on the family name.  We believe there are better ways to be "immortal", and that comes through passing on a good, godly legacy.  We want to focus on teaching Christlike values and having our child 'carry on' our greater traits and characteristics - and discard all our weak ones.  Plus, both a boy and girl can carry on the family name if they so choose.  Neither have to drop or change it when they marry if they don't want to.

So boy or girl, we will love either equally the same.  We believe that there isn't a broad generalization nor stereotype that must be prescribed to a boy because he's a boy or a girl because she's a girl.  We'll just let our child be who s/he is and not force gender roles or stereotypes on our child.  We will give our child every chance and opportunity to do anything s/he wishes.  If our little girl wants to play with cars, then I say so be it.  If our little boy wants to play at 'cooking', then so be it!  We'll encourage our little girl to play with blocks and legos, be active, do sports, etc.  We will rein in our little boy just as we would our little girl if he's being too rambunctious, and we will not let any undiscipline slide with a flippant "boys will be boys."  No, a boy will not get excused from the kitchen or house chores simply because he's a boy.  He will have the same kinds of responsibilities, love and nurture as a girl would in our household. 

So then it doesn't matter to us - whether boy or girl.  Either will be our dear little gift from our Heavenly Father, whom we will lavish with the love and affection that we learned from Him.  Boy or girl, can't wait to meet our little one!

I came across the test as I passed by the the clearance area of Longs Drugs.  How providential.  We had been planning to take the test on Saturday, which was in a few days.  So for $2.21, I could find out whether or not our whole lives were about to be changed completely.  One line meant no, two lines meant yes.

I woke up early the morning of.  I hadn't slept very well that whole night because I kept thinking about how we were going to take the test the next morning.  As I brushed my teeth, Sam began to wake up slowly.  Then when he suddenly remembered, "Oh, the test!" he jumped out of the bed with enthusiasm.  Before we took the test, we prayed, relinquishing the outcome into God's hands, trusting that He knows what's best for us. 

Then we followed the instructions - putting the tester flat on the counter and covering the little window with a piece of paper.  One line meant negative, two lines meant positive.  What if there was only one line?  Though we had tried to not make much of it, the truth was that we had been waiting for 2 weeks.  Two weeks is a long time to wait and wonder, and no matter how much we tried to talk ourselves out of hoping for a two-line outcome, we knew that a great disappointment would totally be inescapable if there was only one. 

After three minutes, we went over to the counter.  As we hovered over the tester, we kept saying, "There's only going to be one line," to convince ourselves and curb the forthcoming disappointment.  Finally, Sam said, "Just do it!"  and I removed the paper from the little window.  There were two lines.  I blinked.  I couldn't believe what I was seeing.  Were there really two lines?  I stared at it.  Yes!  There were two lines.  We looked at each other with surprise and amazement.  We're going to have a baby!

There are fewer things in life that make you fall face down in humility as quickly as parenting.  As many books as you might read, as many kids as you might've cared for previously, and even if you've had a child before, every child is different.  They have their different temperaments and personalities, they have their different physical ailments and needs and preferences, and they have their different rhythms. On Friday, I found out again, as I was faced with a brand new baby, that it was like I know nothing at all. 

At almost two months old but born premature by a month, this little baby boy came with a gift from God.  The gift?  The beautiful realization that if I do not pray, I cannot parent.  There's no better gift than understanding that I need God.

It really only took an hour for me to realize that I was clueless of what to do with this new little baby.  He seemed to cry whenever he was awake.  In fact, he seemed downright miserable unless he was asleep.  Even in the midst of drinking his bottle, he was unhappy.  And I didn't know how to soothe him.  On that first night, he did not sleep for any length of time that granted me rest.  Even so, it wasn't until the next day that I started to pray.  Lord, help me understand him.  Help me know how to help this helpless little baby.  I started realizing that I had really taken for granted my ability to know and anticipate our previous baby's needs.

And last night was much better.  We swaddled him at bedtime (a la Dr. Harvey Karp) and he slept more soundly and for longer intervals.  He's now comforted by my holding him (found good positions that work for us).  And he seemed pretty happy being awake in our arms for awhile tonight, watching the Chargers game with us.  He's no longer miserable when he's awake nor miserable when he's drinking his bottle (which he likes warm, by the way).  I'm still sleep-deprived... but so happy that we have a happier baby, thanks to God.  Seriously, can't parent without the best Parent of all.

I tried teaching our baby "baby signs" awhile ago when she was around 9 months.  That's when they say it's a good time to start, but I kept getting so frustrated that she wasn't getting it right away (read:  there's a paucity of patience within my reach) that I stopped.  But then a few weeks ago, I started noticing that she was learning how to point to things to tell us that she wanted something (she did not know how to do this before!).  In pointing, she was communicating.  So then I wanted to take it a step further.  I decided to try to teach her a very easy 'sign'.  Whenever she would be inside her pack 'n' play or activity center or crib and wanted to come out, I would ask her "up?" and raise both my arms up.  I'd do it a few times and wait for her to imitate.  Since she didn't get it at first, I'd sometimes bring her arms up and then I'd pick her up and get her out of that place.  After doing this for a few weeks, she started to understand a little.  She would raise her hands sometimes when she felt like it after I'd ask, "up?"  And then she got to a point where she really understood.  These days, she'll stand in front of the pack 'n' play and just raise her arms up and wait for us to notice and put her in the pack 'n' play.  It's a very deliberate motion of communication.  And, seriously, it is so amazing.

Since she understood that, I decided to add a few other signs.  The next one was "more".  And then I taught her, "eat" and "milk" and "all done."  I can't tell you how amazing it has been the last few days having her communicate with us.  I can't believe it!  While she is not yet able to speak words, she is able to make these signs to tell us when she wants to eat or have more of something, etc, etc.  She'll even go up to us and pat us on the leg when she wants our attention and then do the sign.  The decrease in tantrums and tears around here has been tremendous.  There are just no words to describe what is has been like to go from frustration from the lack of communication to real understanding.  I'm so proud of her for getting it!

What a beautiful thing is communication.  I'm so glad God has given us so many ways to communicate with each other.

The next sign I'm trying to teach her is help.  =)

In a child’s life, things are always developing, changing
and evolving.  When you finally make note
of it, you realize that it’s actually been happening for at least a few days, a
week, a few weeks!  It was that way today
when I had just finished changing Baby's diaper.  I put her down on the ground to
wash my hands and the next thing I know, she has disappeared from the room and
is wandering down the hall into the living room!  She used to stay put.  She used to only crawl. She used to only sit
at my feet, very close to where I was. 
Now she moves so fast.  Now she
walks instead of crawls.  And now she has
no fear of being in a different room from her mama! 

The other day while I was brushing my teeth, she was playing
in our bedroom on the other side of the wall. 
I heard her crawl towards me and poke her heard around the corner.  She usually does this to check to see if I’m
there.  Then she disappeared behind the
wall again.  A few seconds later, her
head poked around the corner again, but this time she was walking toward me.  It was like one baby left and another baby
appeared. 

When did it become so easy for her to walk?  One day, she was accidentally taking two
steps on her own on the way to one of us. 
The next week, she was taking 15 steps across our living room.  And then sometime after that, she just
started walking from place to place whenever she felt like it.  These days, she seems to want to walk more
than crawl.  And it all happened so fast.

She has this way of carrying things.  She always rests things on her shoulder,
leaning the object on her neck.  Curious
George, a ball, a cell phone, a blanket. 
Today she was carrying Curious George all around the house.  She used to not even care about stuffed
animals!  Suddenly, she holds them
closely and kisses them affectionately.

Here's what I mean.  (You can't see her face...so I think I can post it here...:)

And it wasn’t that long ago either that she loved to
self-feed.  This was when she first discovered
her pincher fingers and wanted to use them all the time.  Unfortunately, she would often miss her mouth
and food would roll down into her bib. 
Nowadays, her use of her pincher fingers is so precise.  She can grasp the smallest food bits and put
them squarely in her mouth.  Today,
however, she purposely pretended to miss her mouth and stuffed the peas down
her bib instead – simply because she didn’t want to eat them.

And if that wasn’t surprising enough, earlier today, she came
over to me and put her pincher finger and thumb of one hand together to hold
her other thumb.  She looked at me as
though she wanted to tell me something but I didn’t know what it was.  Then it suddenly dawned on me!  She wanted me to sing “Itsy Bitsy Spider” to
her.  I must’ve understood her right,
because when I started singing and doing the hand motions, she smiled and
clapped her hands with delight.  She
remembered it from yesterday, and she was able to communicate what she
wanted.  Amazing!  She clapped every time I finished the
song.  Funny that just the other day
(although I don’t remember when), she didn’t know that clapping communicated
appreciation for something.

She turned eleven months on Sunday, and it seems that we no
longer have a little baby.  She can wave
goodbye and hello, blow kisses, voluntarily give kisses and kiss on command,
snuggle and hug and point to things that she wants (I remember when I would
point to things and she would have no idea to look where I pointed).  She knows how to be defiant and how to be
obedient, how to be affectionate and how to be distant, how to communicate
happiness, boredom and displeasure.  It
all happened so fast.  I didn’t even have
a chance to record when it first began, but I’m so proud of our little girl and
all the amazing things that she can do.  

Happy eleven months, little baby!  Mama & Dada love you!