October 24, 2018
Number Seven
Ambiguous title? Yes.
Am I being cryptic on purpose? Yes.
You are supposed to figure out the puzzle from the clues in this story.
(WARNING! LONG STORY! – and it’s pretty deep because there’s a lot of feelings and thoughts smashed in here.)
Anyway, in April and May, I was in and out of clinics and the hospital because of a severe reaction to black mold. (I know, crazy, right?) I researched the medication I was to finish and every side effect possible happened to me (they always do, it’s just my weird, unique biology) so my hair fell out, hormone levels changed, pimples exploded over my face, and various other physical changes happened, I wasn’t watching for anything else. It was a low period for me because it seemed my favorite parts of my body (long hair, my figure, health) was disappearing. (Crazy reason to be depressed, isn’t it? After all, I was still alive!) Although I kept telling myself this would work itself out, and I kept praying and believing God had control of this situation too (He has everything in His hands.), it was sometimes hard to face it without feeling sad. Especially for me when I brushed my hair and it seemed there was more hair in the brush than stayed on my head. (Of course, shedding hair means length disappears, so I went from semi-thick long hair that was below my waist to thin few-strands-to-the-middle-of-my-back.) My hair was something that even as a child I was really proud of. I’ve never cut it. I always wanted to have long hair like Lady Godiva (ever seen the version where Maureen O’Hara plays Lady Godiva? I loved that movie because she was a strong, bold woman who loved her people.) and loved the Bible verse that says our “long hair is our covering.” Plus, Louis likes my hair long. (Yes, after getting married, I thought it would take too much time to have to style short, plain hair so it was cool that my husband liked it long and straight.)
Being that I’m allergic to almost everything chemical (latex, cleaning fluids, pills, antibiotics, the inhaler I was prescribed!, etc.), we pretty much rely on natural family planning and some non-latex help. Usually, I know my body well. Part of the side-effects to one of the drugs was hormone imbalance which threw my body off where I wasn’t sure what it was doing. Not considering it a good time for pregnancy, we decided to hold off on any potential baby-making. Period.
Oh well, God laughed at that.
Certain things began to reverse during July. My hair began to grow back (I have one-inch-long sticking-ups all over my head), my figure returned to normal, and other small things in my body seemed to reset. I was very curious because although I’d been off the huge assortment of “we-don’t-know-what-this-is-but-treat-everything” drugs in the hospital for two months, everything I’d read about the steroid they’d given me was that it took twelve to eighteen months for the hormone imbalance to correct itself and I was still taking one occasionally to prevent asthma attacks. What was turning my imbalance around?
Yep, God decided to reset my body himself; with a baby.
I love being pregnant, but worried that the drugs I’d been on had effected the child – then relaxed about as soon as I thought about it because if we were trying to keep it from happening (Starting in mid-April with the only 100% sure way), yet God said “haha, you thought you knew this stuff,” He obviously was in charge of baby’s health.
For the first time in my reproductive life, the only “date” I have can’t be. I keep calendars that are honestly way too detailed, but those dates don’t match with the dates counting backwards. (Every other time in my life I knew the day/night we came together to start our little blessing!) Based on these “diary facts” as my girls call them, I can’t figure the time. (What happened? The little swimmers had to get through sheepskin & sit around inside of me for eight to ten days? Really? If I use the LMP date, that’s what had to happen because after that was nothing. Period. I didn’t know hanging around inside was medically possible.)
Now, I’m totally enthusiastic about being pregnant (I am one of those crazy women who LOVE carrying life – every part of it); I just am amazed at the mystery of this baby. I figured you know, I know what protection is, we use planning, and yeah, I get it, I’ve seen women on the pill, using protection, and even two who had their tubes tied get pregnant, so I know anything is possible.
I mean, philosophically we trust all to God’s hands, including family size and timing. (Or say so, we were technically trying not to get pregnant with the whole breathing and health thing “at least until we moved to a mold-free house”) But can you say surprised? Yes.
So, “number seven” is this little precious life growing inside of me! (Yes, I know most people, including many member of my family, think we are completely nuts, and maybe we are – but we are loving this adventure!)
New job, new baby, surprise! God says! Now I have an awesome job I can’t believe I really get to do and seriously get paid for (I love teaching children!) and a new little life growing inside that Lucas can’t wait to wrestle with (he comes and mashes on my belly, talks to “his baby,” and the baby responds by racing around, kicking, punching, whatever inside me). I’m so excited… what does God have next? A plot of land we can call our own and a trailer to stick on it or some plot with an old house that needs work – maybe? Or are Kimberly’s dreams of building our own “movable house” accurate? Okay, I’m totally open to the next step in this adventure! (And, yes, I’m fine if that means, “rest, sit tight, you’re in pause mode right now.”)
Thanks for reading!
Type at you later…
~Nancy Tart