One Day

Posted on by pronouncedtwee

Four weeks ago today, I got the phone call. “I would expect your numbers to be much higher than this… It appears that you’ve had a miscarriage.”

Even if there had been no phone call that Saturday, I would know by the end of that day that our longed-for second child, whom I had quickly grown to love, was gone. My body made that conclusion crystal clear. Although Nate and I lost our baby early in my pregnancy, the news was disorienting and heart-shattering.

In that first week, though, we made a decision to name our sweet baby:

Jessie Do Kneezel.

(Baby’s middle name is my maiden name, pronounced “doe.”)

And then I tried not to make many decisions after that, except to grieve however I needed to grieve. And that alone was enough of a challenge for my bent. I’m often hard on myself, and thus, I judged my own grief process. I started to let lies creep in and cause self-doubt. I’m learning that self-compassion at times like these isn’t just nice; it’s necessary. (Why I stink at being kind to myself is another blog for another day.) Before losing Jessie, I was no stranger to trauma and grief. But this particular trauma and this particular grief were alien to me. In 2017 Nate and I were fortunate enough to get pregnant right away, and though I was nauseated or throwing up for two-thirds of my pregnancy, I took those ill effects as signs that Tyler was developing as he was supposed to. And I thank God that he did.

So many women I know and don’t know are all too familiar with this premature death and heartbreak. In that sense, I knew I wasn’t alone, even though having a natural miscarriage is a physically lonely, awful experience. I became one of millions of women to lose a baby in the womb, but knowing that didn’t stop the depression that followed.

For those out there who might actually feel alone in the wake of this trauma, I’m intentionally talking about Jessie and our pregnancy loss. And in doing so, I’m hoping to normalize conversations about miscarriage, this very painful “common” loss that feels anything but common when it becomes a lived experience.

It can feel strange to talk about because… how do we and others grieve a baby we’ll never hold, a baby we’ll never post pictures of on social media? How do we mourn a baby whose very existence we didn’t share because we’ve been trained to keep a miraculous life a secret, since first-trimester statistics aren’t on our side? Another blogger said that we, who profess to be God’s image bearers, need to talk about and care about all life, including the lives of the children we’ll never get to meet on this side of heaven. That deeply resonated with me.

Can we start sharing about babies early in the womb? So that we can care well for our loved ones who walk through the tragedy of miscarriage? So that we can allow others to care for us when we are the mourners?

For the first three weeks after Jessie died, waking each day was a bitter pill. The first reality that ushered me into each morning was, “The baby’s gone.” And the tears flowed again and again.

Nearly two years ago, Nate and I talked about our shared hope of another baby one day. This time around, it took several months before we got to see those two lines on the pregnancy test. And almost immediately I had symptoms of life growing inside. We looked at each other with excitement, and we looked to God with gratitude. I quickly got used to waking two to four times every night to use the bathroom. And with the anticipation of meeting Jessie around October 5th, I welcomed those interruptions.

Now, a heaviness sat on my chest, and getting out of bed became difficult. But I had to get up, because I still needed to do my job – parent a high-energy two-year-old in the midst of this grief. Nate helped so much with Tyler, and still does, and he took some time off of work. Yet the weight of the loss, plus the demands of normal life, still felt like too much.

Then… a few more days passed. And I could sense something shifting.

Slowly that weight on my chest felt a little lighter. – And for that, I thank God.

The lessening of the intensity of grief over time is a gift. The fellowship with others, both who know and don’t know this specific loss, and their willingness to enter our sorrow, are gifts. The surprising moments when I look at plants and flowers growing in our house, and perennials starting to bud outside, remind me that God is still here. He still breathes life into His creation, including me. And His promise to make all things new one day still holds, even when my feelings scream a different reality. My toddler’s frequent, pure, unadulterated joy and laughter – he is our daily inspiration to enlarge our family – are evidences that God’s goodness and kindness can still be found in the midst of mourning.

Like so many other women who have walked this road, I choose to grieve alongside The Lord, with hope. Hope not in any assured vision of what our family will look like down the road. But hope in our Creator, our loving Dad, who rejoices when we rejoice and weeps when we weep.

When I told my friend Cindy the news, she e-mailed, “I’m so sorry. There are no words except Immanuel.” God with us. That was one of the most helpful things I was told in the wake of our loss.

As I grieve our beloved Jessie, I’m trying to cling to the truth, even if only through tears or half-spoken prayers, that Jesus – God who came to Earth for my sake, and a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief – is right here with me.

Love,

Thuy

Hi, Lovebug.

Posted on by pronouncedtwee
A month ago, when you looked up and kept saying, “Someone turned on the moon.”

Dear TyTy,

You’re two years and seven months old. I’ve written 28 single-spaced pages about your life – your milestones, your dietary and sleep habits, the cute and smart things you daily do and say. If you haven’t yet noticed, Daddy and I don’t have the gift of brevity. But I’m going to aim for it here (no promises…), since one day that Google doc is likely going to well exceed 28 pages, and you might not know where to start.

So let me begin.

About a year ago, before you could walk, you started calling yourself “TyTy.” You started calling Josie, your toddler friend, “JoJo.” This is an example of you just being you. And it’s been such a fun, joy and laughter-filled ride for Daddy and me. We still can’t believe you’re our son!

Sometimes you come up to me and say, “I wanna be close to you!” It warms my heart each and every time. And then often we sit on the kitchen floor, you on my lap, and we eat snacks together. This is one of my favorite parts of each day.

You came up to me several times throughout the day last week and said, “I wanna give you some love!” That’s what I often tell you to show Daddy (“Give Daddy some love!”), since these days, you’re a momma’s boy through and through and openly reject him (i.e. “I don’t want Daddy!”). Harsh words, little man! But Daddy takes it like a champ and knows one day the roles will be reversed. 🙂

Two weeks ago, we went to an outdoor church event. You understood why it was outdoors and why we wore masks – “because of the cononavirus, because there are germs in the air that’s making a lot of people sick.” (Who knew such a terrible virus could sound so adorable?!) As we drove home, I looked back at you in your car seat and we smiled at each other. I rubbed your soft little leg with my hand, and your smile widened as you exclaimed, “I wanna hold Mommy’s hand!” So I scooted my passenger seat as far back as it would go, and we held hands for most of the 12-minute drive home. Though I’m often exhausted these days from parenting, specifically the often-at-home COVID parenting, there are so many tender moments like these that I’ve come to cherish.

That night we had our usual conversation while you were lying in your crib. (And can I just say how thrilled I am that you’re not yet able to climb out of it?!)

You: I don’t wanna go night night because I want to keep playing. I have so much fun playing with my trucks.

Me: I know, honey. But guess what? You can keep playing with all your stuffed animals in your crib. You can talk to them, sing to them all the songs you know. You can also talk to God.

You: God loooves it when you [I] talk to Him!

Me: Yes, He does, honey. Prayer is just talking to God. He loves to hear from you.

You: I’m gonna sing to my animals!

Me: Good idea! (singing the Caroline the Crane song from Gecko’s Garage on YouTube) ‘Lift it high! Lift it high! Lift it high, high, high in the sky! Lift it high, lift it high, lift it high, lift it high, Caroline!”

You smiled really big as you watched me sing your recent fave; you’ve been spontaneously singing it to yourself as you play with your trucks. After I closed your door, I heard you singing in your precious TyTy voice, “Lift it high! Lift it high! Lift it high, high, high in the sky!” And I smiled really big as I walked down the hall.

TyTy, I never thought I would ever be a mommy, much less to one as amazing as you. Sure, you have plenty of moments where everything seems terrible and your emotions swing like a pendulum (all normal toddler stuff but hard to parent you through!). But the majority of the time, you are a smiley, curious, laughing, thoughtful human being who radiates joy. Probably 20 times a day, you say, “Hi, Momma! Hi, Momma!” as though you’re surprised I’m there! Your favorite line as you play with your LEGOs is, “I’m a gonna build a strong foun-DAY-tion!” It’s a delight to hear you talking and watching you delighting in life! Sleeping and napping are sad for you because you have to rest from your play. But almost daily you repeat after me, “I sleep… then I’ll get more energy to play!”

You got it, lovebug.

_______

There are so many things I want you to know and feel, like deep deep down in your soul. I purposefully wrote “feel” up there. That’s because you can know lots of stuff in your head but not feel them in your heart. And God gave us both head and heart, and they are meant to work as a team, to help us live wisely.

I so want you to know and feel that God loves you so much – more than your head and heart can understand. That Daddy and I are vessels of His love for you. That, though we love you more than all of our long-winded words could express, we could never love you as much as your Creator loves you.

I want you to know that God made you on purpose for His unique, set-apart purposes. Not my purposes for you. Not Daddy’s purposes for you. Not anyone’s but God’s.

You belong to God. Scripture says that our primary purpose is to love God and to reflect His love and grace to other people. To be the hands and feet of Jesus in a hurting world. You might wonder one day, or often, what it looks like specifically for you to live out God’s purposes for you. Just keep talking to Him. Tell Him you’re confused, or unsure, or stumbling. Or excited and eager about all your ideas! He will show you. Maybe not right away. But He will. God is the most trustworthy Person in His entire universe, and He’ll always have your back.

I tell you all the the time that waiting is one of the hardest things God asks us to do. You often say (about dinner, seeing Mimi and Papa, playing with a friend), “It’s so hard to wait!” Yes, lovebug. Soooo hard! I feel your pain. A lot of times grown-ups don’t wait very well either. But God is a lot smarter than us. And even though sometimes we don’t understand what He’s doing in our life, or in other people’s lives, we can remind ourselves every single day that He is always actively working things out for our good.

These are some big, general truths that I pray for your head and heart to grasp each day you live. And I’m praying for Daddy and me, too – that we will wait alongside you and trust God to show you the specifics of your glorious, on-purpose life.

You are a miracle and a gift from The Lord. We are so thankful that He let us know you and made you a part of our family. Lovebug, forgive us for any moment we treat you otherwise.

I love you to the moon and back, my little nutbrown hare,

Mommy

New Parents: 18 Steps to Increasing Your Stress

Posted on by pronouncedtwee

Hey, y’all.

It’s been a minute since my last post. Since then, I’ve learned lots of new life skills – like how to trudge through winter with a perpetually sick and snotty baby and not figure out what I needed to thrive until it was spring. And warm again.

I’ve also learned other ways to increase stress as a new parent, and in general as an adult! Here’s what you need to do:

  1. Talk with your spouse about moving “maybe in a year or two,” but turn in the requested 412 financial documents and get pre-approved. Ya know – “just in case.”
  2. Notice a pretty house online. Go to the open house two days after you get pre-approved. Like that house a lot, immediately call your real estate agent, and ask her if she can go see the house immediately and give you feedback immediately. Wonder if you just lost your mind.
  3. The next day, make an offer. With your agent’s sage advice, write a letter (or up the ante and write a poem!) to the sellers and treat this like a popularity contest by including a cute family photo. Whip up this illustrative limerick during the baby’s morning nap and zip it off to your agent.
  4. Find out at 5pm that day that you won the contest. Sign stuff. Holy crap. You are now under contract, like THE DAY AFTER you saw a house that you walked through for all of seven minutes because the baby needed to go down for a nap soon. Wonder if you just lost your mind. (Why are you sweating all of a sudden?)
  5. The next day, decide to put your house on the market immediately in order to take advantage of the sellers’ market and the early summer time frame. (You’re still sweating, probably.)
  6. Prep and stage your 90-year-old house for professional pictures in NINE DAYS. Like, less than two hands’ full of days. Do this while you still live in it, with a one-year-old human. Solicit help. From strangers walking on the street, if needed. Throw food at them, but be nice to them, too. They will come.
  7. Spend the next seven days cleaning the basement since it wasn’t included in professional pictures. (Thank God!) But cleaning the basement is like, well… total hell, so pray because you will need God! Offering food at strangers is still a sustainable strategy at this point. Work 18 hours on the final day and sleep a hard few hours before you blow this joint.
  8. Leave for the weekend because showings start the next day. And because taking a trip with a one-year old while selling your house is a lot of fun and never inconvenient.
  9. Pray because the open house is two days after that. And it’s pouring all day.
  10. Wait. While you wait, remember to throw food at the one-year-old human. It’s easy to forget that your primary job is to keep said human alive, but the dang house stuff. Ugh. It can make you foggy about your priorities. Even if you feel overwhelmed by the pace of your life, don’t give the small human to a stranger on the street, though. This would not be considered a sustainable strategy at this point.
  11. Scroll through your Facebook feed to pretend you’re not super anxious, even though you trust that God knows what you need and will sell your house.
  12. Two days after the open house, get an offer and accept it. (The sweat may begin to dissipate, but maybe not.)
  13. Two weeks after that, close on your new house and move in two days later. Try not to lose the small human amidst the boxes.
  14. The next day, notice how things start breaking. Call contractor immediately and get issue fixed. All while you also have a sewer lateral break at the old house and have contractors digging up that basement floor.
  15. Eight days after that, go on your vacation (which you had planned before the house stuff began) and get the stomach flu (you AND your spouse). Pray, while you’re laid up in bed during “vacation,” that the small human can miraculously escape illness.
  16. Return from vacation and realize that the issue at the new house broke again. Call contractor again. You’re still on day four of recovering from the stomach flu. The one-year-old human keeps looking at you and wondering why you won’t pick him up and hold him. EVEN THOUGH HE’S THE CUTEST THING EVER.img_1022
  17. Write a blog about the happenings of the last 61 days because you’ve been awake since 3am and unable to sleep since your world is obviously so boring and slow.
  18. Close on your old house TOMORROW. Now you can focus on the sewer lateral break at the new house. (I’m not kidding, but at least you don’t have to pay for this one.)

Do all these things, in this order, and I can offer you a 100% satisfaction guarantee that you will feel increased stress and have an occasional melt-down, requiring you to call your therapist on a regular basis! (Good thing I have her on speed dial.)

Love and hugs (because you’ll need lots and lots of hugs…and coffee),

Thuy

2018 kicked the crap out of me.

Posted on by pronouncedtwee

These are some of the things 2018 taught me:

  1. Wonderful changes, like having a beautiful healthy baby boy, can be, at once, a dream come true and a catalyst for immense stress. (For instance, when Tyler was 7 days old, I had some severe postpartum physical problems and had to go to the E.R. That night literally kicked the crap out of me. It was real bad and awful, y’all. I will leave it at that.)
  2. The anxiety and fear I had for many years about having a child and becoming a parent were warranted. The joy is profound. Thuy Tyler Nate_8 months oldSo is the weight of the responsibility to care for and steward a human life. If I think about this part too long and hard, and leave God’s providential hand out of the picture, I’ll totally freak out.
  3. Because of #2, I see my need for God more desperately every day — for His acceptance, grace, love and peace to wash over me so that I can give to my family from a reservoir of gratitude and love, instead of a desert of fatigue. It’s a battle.
  4. Not enough people talk about what having a baby can do to a marriage, especially a brand new one. So I’m going to talk about it because sometimes I have felt alone in this, and because Nate is okay with my sharing some of it. From what a few people and blogs tell me, what I’ve been going through is normal. Reminding myself of this all the time is helpful and necessary. This is normal. This is normal. This is normal…
    1. Before having Tyler, I didn’t understand how a person could have a baby and more easily love the baby than her spouse. I understand this tension now.
    2. Before having Tyler, I didn’t understand that maintaining marital intimacy and friendship would sometimes feel like a daily battle. This is true for me, not so much for Nate. And it’s been a really, really difficult thing for me to experience and handle. Sometimes I’m wrecked with guilt about it, and yet don’t know how to change it. This period has obviously been hard for Nate, too. (Don’t worry. We are okay. We are seeking help. – Seeking help is a good thing, friends. No shame in it.)
    3. I’ve been in professional counseling for over seven years. I thought I had dealt with stuff. I was wrong. I didn’t know how frequently family-of-origin issues would arise between Nate and me, now that we have a child. I wasn’t prepared for how having a baby would accelerate the conversations about our differences and flaws. I wasn’t prepared for how conflicted I would feel about those differences, and how I wouldn’t deal with conflict as well as I had hoped.
  5. God can handle the weight of my anxiety and fear. I can be 100% honest with Him. Taking stuff to Him first — before Nate, my sister, or any other friend — is a spiritual discipline that I long to grow in and employ for the rest of my life, especially in these times of stress and fatigue.
  6. Having a baby and loving him well necessarily means that other relationships and friendships change. I wasn’t prepared for that. I’m still adjusting to, and sometimes grieving, the limitations on my time.
  7. There’s a reason why women, even strangers, who have experienced labor and delivery, seem to share their birth stories with one another. It’s healing, especially when giving birth — and for me, pregnancy as well — were pretty negative. (It turns out that when you move through active labor and the transition phase in LESS THAN THREE HOURS, get to the hospital fully dilated, and then have to push for 90 minutes, you feel like you’re being murdered.)
  8. Having said all of that in #7, it’s a privilege to be Tyler’s mom. I LOVE THAT LITTLE DUDE. Helping him and watching him grow is the best, most rewarding job I’ve ever had (sorry to any former bosses of mine who might be reading this!). It’s still a shock to my system that, overall, I enjoy this gig, since I didn’t know if I would ever have a child, or ever want to be a parent.
  9. I will always wonder what it would have been like for me to have a child in my 20s instead of my late 30s.
  10. The overwhelming tiredness, y’all. I think I can say, even this early on, that parenting is worth it. But oh my word. The tiredness. (And this is with Tyler being an amazing sleeper!) Nate has never known an energetic Thuy, and it’s worse now. And that makes me sad. My great hope is that this will improve after I’m done nursing Tyler.
  11. I will always wonder if I’ll ever be on time to anything. I get it now — why it takes at least a half hour to get out the door when you have a little one. ALL. THE. STUFF.
  12. After eight months off, returning to seminary part-time in August for my counseling degree, when Tyler was five months old, was a bittersweet decision. I loved my professors, classmates, and being back in the classroom. I had no — and I mean ZERO — capacity for the reading and papers outside of the classroom. Being a mostly stay-at-home mom (SAHM) was a gift, and an energy-depleting one that I can now more fully appreciate and understand, especially when I meet other SAHMs. Instead of school work being a source of joy, it loomed over me like a cloud this past semester. It was hard to face my energy limitations, but they were undeniable. (Yup, I’m pulling back next semester.) A huge shout-out to Nate and my in-laws, Larry and Barb, for watching Tyler many times so that I could work on papers!
  13. Nate and I have more authentic texts now, meaning we use less exclamation points. When we were dating and before Tyler was born, our texts looked more like this: “Sure! That sounds like a great idea!” Now, it’s more like, “Yup. More avocados. Thanks.”
  14. When a baby has a cold, you can’t give him anything for it, so he’s down for what seems like an eternity. Cabin fever is real, parents. You must find a way to leave the house! (But oh… the sweet baby snuggles. Those also are real and awesome.)
  15. Having a baby can make you more efficient, especially during baby’s naps. You have no idea how fast my brain has been working and my fingers have been typing for the last 93 minutes. Whew.

When it comes to the challenging stuff, everyone tells me, “Thuy, it will get better. I promise.” I totally believe that.

More than that, though, I believe God’s promise that He will never leave or forsake me. These days, I cling to it, actually. And in all of this wonderful, difficult change, I hope that my desperate need for Him will never change.

Jesus loves me. This I know.

I wish you all a joy and peace-filled 2019 that God, in His love and power, can bring.

Much love,

Thuy

Beyond Survival – Part 2

Posted on by pronouncedtwee

It’s been a whole month of a whole new world (cue Aladdin) because of the book Moms on Call, which I’ll forever call the baby survival manual. One glorious month since we started sleep training Tyler and a new and better feeding schedule.

Tyler and Thuy_08232018He has two teeth and now eats my hair.

This means we all are getting more sleep and I can now think more clearly.

I can put in my contact lenses without accidentally rinsing them beforehand with facial astringent (OW!!!), rather than saline solution. I can stay up past 7:30pm (though…just barely) without feeling like I’m going to keel over at any minute. I can revive this blog that has been swimming, mostly drowning, in my head for some time now.

So… in no particular order, here are the gobs and mounds of wisdom I’ve gained from approximately 170 days of parenting thus far:

1) Baby adorableness is a built-in survival mechanism for parents in the early days. God ensured that we would think they are so dang cute so that we power through sleeplessness and delirium in order to keep everyone alive.Tyler - 5 months old_Aug132018(Tyler Van Kneezel. THE MOST BEAUTIFUL CREATURE I’VE EVER SEEN. Super biased mom view, obviously.)

2) Caring for a baby requires solid community in order for a new mom to stay sane. I worked for 14 years before getting pregnant. Then I started graduate school during my first and second trimester. Then I had Tyler, and it was like a bomb exploded. A good, beautiful, six-pound bomb (see picture above). But bombs leave little behind that resembles our prior life. Before having a baby, I had 20+ years of carefree driving and running errands without thinking about the logistics of how I would pick up that prescription (not all pharmacies have drive-throughs!) or that head of lettuce at the store. I’ve needed help, and asking for it from friends hasn’t been as easy for me as I thought it would be. Good thing that good friends volunteer their services!

Before Tyler adapted to sleep training (which also meant that we stopped night feedings…hooray!), being at home and nursing a baby every 2-3 hours wore me down emotionally, mentally, and physically. It was tempting to be a hermit. No doubt I was crabby, especially to Nate (so sorry, honey). STUPID BUT NECESSARY HORMONES!!! I didn’t want to interact with people when I felt like a shell of my former self, and I needed to try to nap when Tyler napped. Regardless, I still saw family and friends and asked them to see me. (Extroverts, even depressed ones, can’t stay away from other humans for too long!) I’m so grateful for them and the respite they gave me in the early days.

We desperately need others and their support in order to parent well. And we can’t parent well if we don’t find the time to care for ourselves. Community is essential.

3) Never underestimate the power of STUPID BUT NECESSARY HORMONES and what they can do to your mind and soul during the months you’re nursing a baby.

I have not been myself.

And sometimes, I really miss my former self. She was a lot nicer.

If you look up patience in the dictionary right now, you will not see my face.

4) Any enemies I make (which I don’t plan to make a regular habit) will have a code name: THRUSH. – It’s a yeast infection. And both new baby and breastfeeding mom can get it and pass it back and forth like a volleyball. And it can get treated. And then come back. Tyler and I both had it twice, for a total of two months. It’s a harmless but horrible, time-sucking beast that requires more maintenance than you want to know about – including a major reduction in sweets/sugar, which basically was my reward for surviving life with a newborn! One remedy called gentian violet turns baby’s lips and mouth BRIGHT PURPLE. For a week if thrush is real bad.

And for us, it was real bad…

Tyler - GV6Tyler, 6 weeks old. Immediately after the first administration. Gaaahhh!!!! He’s the Joker baby!

Tyler - GV5It calmed down about 15 hours later, and after wiping it excessively with baby oil. 

Sure. Purple lips are kinda cool for a second. But not for SEVEN DAYS.

I hate you, THRUSH!!! Go away and never come back!

5) It is the sweetest thing to see your partner loving the baby. My heart melts to see Nate look at Tyler with delight and love.

img_0012(Pit stop on our 10+ hour road trip to Mississippi in June 2018)

I also thank God for Nate’s patience with me. He has seen me at my worst and has loved me well through it. In regular, tangible ways, he demonstrates God’s love for me.

6) When you trim a baby’s nails poorly, he can bleed as if he’s just returned from battle. My gosh, the blood on his little finger! But he never knew what hit him… whew!

img_0432

7) It’s memorable to see your baby meet his grandparents for the first time. I’ve not always seen many similarities between my mom and me. And then I became a mom – something pretty big that she and I now have in common. It has connected us in a special way, and it was pure joy to see her and my dad’s faces light up when they met Tyler.

img_0059(My mom playing with Tyler in June 2018 – Bay St. Louis, Mississippi)

8) Having a baby for the first time is like being inside of a snow globe, and someone keeps shaking it as soon as all the snow starts to settle. BABIES ARE BLESSINGS, BUT HARD, Y’ALL. You think you get a handle on what to do, and then something changes again. And your frustration rises because there’s no reliable manual for that new issue either. One book/website/friend says one thing; another book/website/friend says another. AAAAAHHHH!!!! It’s the most exhausting experience I’ve ever had. It’s the most humbling experience I’ve ever had. Will my head ever stop spinning??

img_9995(Me and 3-month old sleepy boy in Memphis)

9) Coming out of the most difficult parts of postpartum life feels like a resurrection. When you feel like you’re beyond just mere survival with your new baby, it is like what C.S. Lewis said (I don’t remember which book) – about how a mother looks at her baby like she is seeing a new color for the first time.

I can look at Tyler and marvel at his miraculousness and beauty. With joy, I can take in his smile and laugh and not hurry to the next task. I can give sincere thanks to God.

I can be present.

I can love well.

10) This is the hardest conclusion I’ve made thus far, and God keeps bringing it to my mind. So I suppose it’s His conclusion, not mine:

Even though Tyler came out of my body and I call him “my baby” 87 times a day, he does not belong to me. He belongs to God. 

Our children are on loan to us. They’re a privilege, not a right.

I try to remember this often so that I can be present and love Tyler well for as many days and years as God chooses to give me. As hard as parenting may be, it is a gift that I get to steward Tyler’s life with Nate. And the strength to do so comes from the very One who made Tyler to begin with.

Love,

Thuy

Beyond Survival

Posted on by pronouncedtwee

The sleep deprivation that has come with being Tyler’s mom.

Yeah.

See?

I can’t even start with a full sentence about it. It’s been that debilitating at times.

It can make me do harmless things to a 7-week old baby, like this:

img_9317

Stupid buttons. All baby clothes should have zippers or good ole elastic, people!

And it can make me do harmful things. Like take precautions and forget things. Like the time I didn’t strap Tyler into his carseat/travel stroller because it was going to be just a 10-minute walk around the neighborhood. I let go of the stroller to lock the front door and forgot that our front porch has a slight slope. And away the stroller went, down three short steps, and fell over.

And the side of our five and a half-week-old baby’s sweet little head hit the lawn. It wasn’t a soft landing.

I thought I had severely injured him. I can’t fully describe my emotional pain and guilt in that moment as I hurriedly scooped Tyler up and soothed him.

I called Nate and sobbed. And what I appreciate and remember most about his response was that he never shamed me. With genuine empathy, he said, “I easily could have done the same thing, honey. It’s okay. He’s okay. Just call the pediatrician and see if they can take a look at him.”

About an hour later, another kind, grace-filled person – Tyler’s pediatrician – examined him and said that he seemed perfectly fine, nothing was broken or sprained, and that I likely suffered the most harm in that incident. And he was right. For whatever reason, God protected our new baby from even a scratch. But for weeks afterward, I had constant flashbacks to that moment and terrible dreams, and the postpartum anxiety I already had, which was greatly impacted by severe sleep deprivation and fear that I wasn’t parenting right, only increased by the day. It didn’t seem to help that our pediatrician reassured me several times that these kinds of accidents happen to all parents, even when we take the utmost precautions.

Two months after that, after my still not sleeping much, the pediatrician looked at me during Tyler’s four-month check-up and said, “So… based on the survey you just took, you’re borderline.”

For postpartum depression (PPD).

And we talked about it. And he handed me some reading materials about how to get support for PPD.

None of this surprised me. But I still didn’t want to face the music, even though the symptoms were loud and clear. There were several times in the prior few months when I called or texted Nate with “I’m not well” or “It’s been a hard day,” and he tried his best to come home early to relieve me – and often not from a crying, fussy baby, but from the sheer, brain-dead-sort-of depletion from little sleep, and, unfortunately, for Nate – the sometimes out-of-nowhere rage and lack of patience I displayed toward him because of it. Some days I cried a lot. I never wanted to harm myself or Tyler. But many times I just wanted to run away from the 24-7-ness of my new job and the relentless needs of a baby. There were times I resented Nate for the apparent ease of his life – his ability to sleep through the night (which I encouraged for the first month of Tyler’s life so he wasn’t a zombie at work), his ability to have a daily routine, to be a part of society as he had always been, to run errands without it being a logistical dance as it was for me. I resented the fact that we made the decision together to have a child, but that child wasn’t attached to Nate’s body like he was to mine. I confessed all these feelings to Nate, whose loving response was, “I would feel the same way, honey. I wish we could trade places.” (He wasn’t at ease, by the way, because he regularly was worried about me and often felt helpless.) And I felt guilty about having those feelings toward him, and then I felt guilty for not feeling constant gratitude for my ability to be a stay-at-home mom and for having a perfectly healthy, gorgeous baby. And on and on these “you should” thoughts went. In tears, I told my counselor that I knew that none of these feelings were from God, but I couldn’t seem to escape the onslaught of shame and guilt. Tiredness like I had never experienced before only exacerbated the weight of all that I felt.

I wanted to close my eyes and drift off to dreamland and stay there for a solid month.

Survival of the fittest really should be called survival of the fatigued.

Tyler is now four and a half months old, and because he was sleeping so poorly (waking and startling a lot throughout the night) and used to being fed multiple times during the night, and because I was becoming a hormonal, evil, raging, well… ya know… – something had to change.

Just a little over a week ago, we started sleep training and a completely new feeding schedule that removed all night feedings, based on a book/organization called Moms on Call. (Thank you for the recommend, Holli!) It’s not for everyone. In fact, the sleep training part is the opposite of what I imagined doing; I absolutely hated letting Tyler cry it out the first night. But the idea of short-term pain for long-term gain, for everyone in our household, was too compelling. Also, I figured that two pediatric nurses with two decades of experience and eight children between them might know what they’re talking about. My friend was living proof that it can work successfully without traumatizing her baby. And most importantly, Nate and I were on the same page about giving it a try.

It has been nothing short of a miracle.

If you have uttered even one short prayer for me/us to be able to sleep more and find a rhythm, thank you so much. God is hearing! I’m hopeful that what we have experienced this past week will continue. Every day I’ve woken up amazed by how Tyler has adapted.

Friends, after not being able to sleep well during my third trimester and during the first four months of Tyler’s life, after nearly eight long months, I am, at last, more than just surviving. I’m sleeping more and better; taking a progesterone cream, which should help balance the unyielding hormonal shifts and mood swings I’ve experienced; seeing my counselor once a month; trying to exercise when time allows; talking to Nate about where I am mentally and what help I need from him; and trying to spend time with life-giving family and friends. These things aren’t happening all at once or on the same day. But needed changes are happening. Slowly and surely.

I’m becoming human again.

Now that I can function and enjoy my sweet little boy much more this week, I can write somewhat cogently and share with y’all the boatloads of wisdom from my extensive .3 years of being a parent.

To be continued…

Love,

Thuy

The Job I Signed Up For and the Job Description My Boss Never Let Me Read Beforehand

Posted on by pronouncedtwee

Position: Account Manager, Client Services

Previous Experience Required: NONE (which is bananas). On-the-job training guaranteed for a minimum of 18 years. Amazing, right? This level of extensive training is unheard of these days!

Note: It will be 17 years if your client skips a grade and immediately goes to college, 14-16 years if your client is a prodigy and recruited by an Ivy League school after taking the Pre SAT. You can begin praying for these options right now.

Job Description:

You will be assigned one client. Although others will be involved from time to time, you will be the primary account manager and oversee all operations pertaining to this client. Have your cell phone nearby since you will be on call 24/7. Everyday. For like, forever.

You might think to yourself, “Big deal. How hard can one client be?” Trust me. One will be more than you can handle, even if you had years of previous experience with handling multiple customers and successful multi-tasking. Given the monumental task ahead of you, your annual performance review will be based primarily on whether you survive, and if you do, whether your client fires you. That’s pretty embarrassing. Don’t let that happen.

Now, what you should know about your client and your main duties:

  • For the first few months, let him lead. You might think all of your acquired education, knowledge and maturity means that you’re the boss, and that’s completely understandable. – But you’re not.
  • He seems to have a mood disorder. – One moment, he’ll be happy with the work you’re doing, and you’ll find that you, too, really enjoy your client. You’ll even spend some of your time having a staring contest, just looking at each other. Though you’re practically strangers, you’ll find those moments delightful. Then BAM! The next moment he will scream at you and cry for no apparent reason. Your client may get so upset that he starts to hyperventilate. Remind him to breathe, although that may not help. Remember that you’re toast if you take his mood swings personally and start crying, too (although, this may happen from time to time, depending on how well you slept). You’re also toast if you let him sense your discomfort or anxiety. If you show these weaknesses, he may lash out even more. Choose your fate.
  • He will want breakfast, lunch, dinner, and frequent snacks on demand, even if it’s 3am. Oh, and he likes warm milk at every meal. STRAIGHT FROM THE SOURCE, if possible. Did I mention that this is a physically taxing job?? At times you will ask him outright, “How can you be THIS hungry?” You will not get answers, and that is also supremely frustrating. But your main responsibility is your client’s contentment. Remember: You’re. Not. The. Boss. (at least for a while)
  • If he is overly content, he may throw up on you. (Who does this??!) You will need to help him get cleaned up. Then, if you have any time, you will need to get yourself cleaned up. But this is not a given.
  • He has no manners and will not even try to hide his farts. You might even find yourself talking to him, and right then and there, in mid-sentence, he will wet himself. Or worse. Way. Way. Worse. You will need to help him get cleaned up.
  • He cleans up real nice. And this part is weird and unexpected… He might smile at you in the process, and that will make you want to help him again and again.
  • Because you will spend an inordinate amount of time with him, your client will pass along an infection to you called thrush. It will take a solid month to remedy. Not cool! One of the five treatments you’ll use is called gentian violet, which turns the inside of his mouth and his lips bright purple for a week. Take close-ups and use these photos to your advantage in about 15 years.
  • Your client is an overall bum. You may have grandiose ideas about collaborating with him during the day to get stuff done. Ya know – be productive. But he just wants to lounge. Or scream and cry; see the third point above. Or, if you’re really lucky, he’ll doze off and sleep the afternoon away.
  • If he chooses the last option just mentioned, you might think, “Aha! I’ll use this time and accomplish tasks that have been on my to-do list for the past month, like write a blog about my new job.” That might sound tempting. But resist if you can, for about 18 years. You need serious rest in order to keep up. You’re almost 38 years old, Thuy, and let’s face it – you’re no spring chicken.
  • Although he has many options for where to nap, he often will not want to sleep. You will be dazed and confused by this because you’ll be talking to him and his eyes will roll back in his head. HE IS CLEARLY EXHAUSTED BUT WILL NOT SURRENDER TO SWEET, PRECIOUS SLEEP. – Then. At last. He will doze off, and you’ll think to yourself, “Aha! YES! Finally. I can go pee.” And this part is weird and unexpected… A minute later, you’ll look over at your client, while feeling relieved that he just entered dreamland, and he’ll be staring at you, ALERT AS CAN BE.
  • And he’ll want another meal, just when you thought you were about to go on break.
  • And you’ll cry.

Start Date: Tuesday, March 13, 2018, 3:54pm

End Date: NEVER

Salary: NONE (which is bananas)

Reward: That smile mentioned above? Yeah. It’s everything. And if your client giggles? The best. The joy of having and knowing him? Immeasurable and priceless. Remember: YOUR CLIENT IS THE REWARD, AND YOU NEVER EVER DESERVED HIM.

img_9799

Note: You have regular bouts of insomnia, which will make your job all the more difficult. Keep praying. I have the ability to remove this thorn from you.

Note: You will want to quit early on, possibly even in week two. But you can’t quit. You can never quit. Because this is the forever job you signed up for. It’s rewarding and also more challenging than anything you’ve done before. – C’mon. Did you really think I was going to let you read this job description beforehand??!

Note: You’re anxious and full of worry. About EVERYTHING pertaining to your client. This is normal. But try not to fear. I’ll equip you for this job. Since many others have gone before you in this important work, I’ll provide you with good mentors. Your many wonderful, loving friends and family members have fed and served you. They’ll keep helping. And I have provided you with the best spouse and partner imaginable. His name is Nate. Every time he has a chance to interact with your client, his voice goes up a couple octaves. The love he has for your client will melt your heart again and again.

You will not go this alone, especially if I choose to assign a second client to you in the future (which, I know, sounds bananas right now).

Breathe.

You’re only 72 days in to your new gig, but you’re gonna make it.

Trust me.

Sincerely,

God (The Real Boss)

The Last 9 Days

Posted on by pronouncedtwee

Warning: If you don’t want to know what might happen in labor/delivery, or afterward during postpartum recovery, maybe stop reading after the picture of Nate and me below. 🙂 

Nine days ago, with the help of my amazing husband Nate, our doula Stephani, and the caring staff, nurses, and midwives from the Mercy Birthing Center, I delivered Tyler Van Kneezel at 3:54pm at Mercy Hospital in St. Louis. He weighed 5 pounds, 15 ounces and measured 18 1/4 inches long. I had gained 30 pounds during pregnancy (average recommended weight gain is 25-35 pounds) and thought that I would deliver a 7- or 8-pound baby. When I saw 5s on the scale, I was confused and thought the scale was broken!

I was changed the moment my midwife, Samantha (Sam), put Tyler on my chest.

His gender was a surprise! When he came out, I saw part of a baby but couldn’t see anything else. I asked, “What is it?” And Sam held him up and said, “See for yourself!” What an incredible, fun, glorious moment to learn that God had given us a son! Nate and I were overjoyed that Tyler arrived happy, healthy, and with a mane of hair that would make Rapunzel jealous!

Tyler 3-21-18Our sweet son Tyler this morning – 9 days old

I write this post under probably the longest stretch of intense sleep deprivation I’ve ever experienced. Much of the last six years of my life has been marked by poor sleep, but this is a whole new level of tired. I know the fatigue is to be expected, but what I didn’t expect is that I wouldn’t care AT ALL that I’ve gotten approximately 0-2 hours of sleep every day for about the last 10 days.

I don’t care because my love for Tyler is so unimaginable, so unexpected, and so “other” than anything else I’ve ever experienced. Nate would say a similar thing. The difference is that Nate knew he would love our child. I knew I likely would like our child!

I had a great deal of pre-Tyler anxiety that I had to constantly pray about. I didn’t enjoy pregnancy because of nausea, vomiting, congestion, and a loss of appetite for 2/3 of it. For most of my pregnancy, I was so ready to not be pregnant anymore, but not ready for what it would be like to actually hold a baby in my arms and nurture it. I went to a trivia night a couple months ago and asked my close friend/college roommate Karen, “Um, Karen, what do I do with a baby?” She has three kids. She smiled and asked with a laugh, “What do you mean?” I replied, “I mean, what do you do with a baby? I have no idea what to do with it.” That’s really what I meant. No hidden meaning there. Just… what the heck do you do with a baby once it arrives? Underneath my question was my overall, general, plaguing anxiety about becoming a parent.

Parenting was all theoretical, and I lived in that state until I met Tyler. I had struggled for much of my adult life with whether I would ever want to be a parent. I think it was because I didn’t have a great childhood myself and often felt cheated because my five siblings and I had to grow up way too fast. I didn’t get to be a kid for long. The six of us had to figure things out much sooner than our peers because of the dynamics of growing up with parents who immigrated here, with many struggles in assimilating to a new country and culture, after fleeing their own on a small boat and living as refugees in the Philippines for over a year. So there was all of this that impacted my development and my sense of family and what being a kid means. Add to that the fact that, as an adult, I’ve never felt confident with how to interact with or talk to kids. Because I’ve watched so many friends parent their own kids, I’ve always believed that parenting is THE hardest job on the planet – that it’s the job that has the most on the line – so I never approached it lightly. But I did always approach it with fear and anxiety.

I’m seeing that God is way bigger than my anxiety.

For instance, before Tyler was born, I was not excited at all about breastfeeding. I know how good breastmilk is for babies’ development, and I knew I would give it a try after he was born. I had a “let’s just see how it goes” attitude. But still, I was filled with a lack of desire to do it and thought I would feel chained by making the decision to nurse. – Tyler is here now, and the opposite is true. I’m finding that I really enjoy nursing Tyler, and that spending all this skin-to-skin time with him while nursing is a joy – a delight, actually – not a duty the way I had envisioned. I can’t tell you how happy I am to be able to write this – that breastfeeding and all the anxiety I had about it are not a part of my reality. Maybe they will be one day, should I encounter a lot of issues with it, as many women do. But today, in this moment, that particular anxiety is not present. And I’m grateful.

The last nine days also remind me that I’m not in control, that God does what He wishes, and that I will weather trials in a way that pleases Him if I try to see what He might be doing in and through the trial.

My labor, Tyler’s birth, and postpartum recovery could be an individual post on their own. And for my own sake, I’ll probably journal about them in more detail. They were/are so much harder than I could have anticipated.

Now, I did choose an unmedicated birth – after reading and talking to people, and with Nate’s support – and, of course, I knew a drug-free birth would be painful. But after my water broke around 11:30am on March 13th and I quickly transitioned into the hardest parts of labor, there were moments when I thought I was going to die, and that I would not have the strength to push anymore. Nate was strong and steady throughout, and I will never forget his presence next to me as I labored at home and then at the birthing center. He was my rock. So was our doula, Steph, who calmly and confidently guided me through breathing (while she and I were on speaker phone!), especially during the excruciating ride to the hospital, and in the final hours when the contractions threatened to make me quit.

Labor

Nate loving and supporting me well, and me in labor – about an hour before Tyler arrived

After Tyler was born, I needed stitches because I tore near my urethra. I learned that the tear could have been much worse under the circumstances, so I had much to be grateful for. Because of the location of the tear, the swelling, and the narcotics I took during and after our hospital stay, I have had bladder and bowel issues since his birth. In the hospital, shortly after I delivered him, I had to have multiple catheters inserted over a few hours and experienced post-traumatic stress related to the procedure. It was a crappy situation, and no one’s fault. But I was in excruciating pain and crying, and unable to hold and feed Tyler for several hours after he was born. This is not what I wanted.

I had hoped my bladder issues would be resolved by the time I left the hospital last Thursday, but problems continued at home. Eventually, I got to a place two nights ago, where sitting down anywhere was so painful. I sobbed. Nate, Tyler, and I spent the next six hours in the E.R., where I had to have some procedures done, including having another indwelling catheter placed, which will be removed today. (YES!!!) That night, the new anxiety for us both was “Holy crap. God, please get us out of here soon so that we don’t expose our 7-day old baby to sick people everywhere.” And Nate’s other anxiety was, “God, please let my wife be okay.” He was so worried, and although I didn’t want him to worry, I felt Nate’s love for me deeply while we were there. When we got to the E.R., I could barely walk from the pain and pressure I was feeling. As we waited hours to be called back, Nate prayed for me and asked God to heal me.

This Nate. Man, I love him so.

It’s been physically trying to recover from labor and delivery, and at the same time – to learn how to nurse Tyler 8-12 times in a 24-hour period, to learn how to change a diaper for boys (Did you know they pee everywhere if you’re not prepared?! Yeah… we know that now!), to learn how to change my dressings “down there” and manage the pain, to remember to eat throughout the day and night so I don’t pass out from exhaustion, to learn how to handle engorgement and how to use an electric breast pump, to learn how to parent and care for Tyler with Nate, and on and on. There have been just so many new things to learn in the midst of great physical pain and discomfort. Yet I’ve not been overcome by it.

And I think the only explanation is that God is there. Being faithful. On Monday starting at 6:30am until we got home from the E.R. at 3:30am the next day, I had to repeat this truth to myself again and again: “Be still and know that I am God.” (Psalm 46:10) And I was reminded of the blessings. He has given me a husband like no other. He has given us a sweet little boy, whose face has made the pain seem like a non-issue at surprising times. He has given Nate and me countless friends and a wonderful family who have sent encouraging and loving texts, e-mails, gifts in the mail for us and Tyler, and delicious food to nourish us.

I can be still in the midst of this pain and goodness.

I don’t know the reason for the physical challenges and why things went as they did, but I don’t need to know. God doesn’t owe me that. He promises me Himself, and that is exactly the promise He has delivered to me. He is with us in the joyful things that make our hearts swell, and in the confusing and painful things that can make our bodies swell. I’m massively sleep deprived, and parts of my body have felt broken. But I’m doing well because The Lord resides in my heart, and I in His safe, parental, protective love. May Tyler know and grow up in Jesus’ love and believe with his whole heart that he is well, no matter what happens in life. That’s the most important thing I want for my son.

Tyler and ThuyTyler and the blessed gal who gets to be his mommy

Love to you all,

Thuy

March Madness

Posted on by pronouncedtwee

Guys. It’s March 1st. Can I tell you how elated I am that it’s March?

Let me try.

On Monday, July 3, 2017, I found out I was pregnant – about four weeks along. About three days later, the morning sickness began. The nausea and vomiting. And I HATE vomiting. More than I hate roller coasters, and I hate roller coasters a lot. With the exception of a solid five weeks from Thanksgiving to the end of December – a time where I needed to be well in order to get through my finals and first semester of seminary for my counseling degree – the morning sickness didn’t let up until 2.5 weeks ago. When I was nearly 36 weeks pregnant. (For those who don’t know, a human gestational cycle is about 40 weeks long. I was fairly miserable for an insanely long time.)

Two sweet friends texted me this morning to say “Happy Baby Month!” because they know how difficult this journey has been.

Now do you understand why I’m so happy it’s March?! Because this month – one way or another – this little human is coming out of my body and entering our family! My due date is March 12. And honestly? I don’t care if he/she comes on March 3 or March 23. The babe is coming out THIS MONTH, and I’m rejoicing that we both have made it this far. We have made it to this highly anticipated, glorious month.

I read a ScaryMommy post this morning, written by a woman who just found out she’s pregnant. Even though she and her husband had planned to try to start a family, the news that she was pregnant was extremely hard to accept and she cried for days. I don’t judge her one bit. I understand what it’s like to have a maddening range of emotions about something that society tells us we should be glowing about (assuming surrounding circumstances are favorable). I spent the first six months or more in disbelief that I was pregnant. Then month seven and leading into month eight, I was plagued by anxiety that I didn’t want to admit to Nate or anyone else. But I had to, because the anxiety was as real as my growing stomach, and I couldn’t pretend that it was a seedling when it was a full-grown sequoia. A few weeks ago, I couldn’t hold back anxious tears to the nurse practitioner when she asked me how I was doing.

The thought of someone needing me so constantly, especially in the realm of nursing/breastfeeding; the thought that I won’t be able to run out easily, whenever I want, to complete errands; the thought of someone calling me “Mommy” and my then having to be an actual mommy to a little someone; the thought of being in pain through labor and delivery and bleeding for weeks afterward; the wondering and worry of how a baby will impact my new marriage to Nate – all of these thoughts swarmed in and made me anything but glowing and excited.

I told our friends last night at community group that pregnancy and imminent parenthood, for me, are like the feelings I have about a big, upcoming trip. Nate agreed and added, “Yes, and to a place we’ve never been before.” The first time I flew internationally in my late 20s, I just couldn’t let it sink in or believe that the trip was real until the plane hit the tarmac in Amsterdam. Similarly, I don’t think the reality of this baby, and that I will be a parent, will hit me until its 7- or 8-pound body lands in my arms. (And it’s gonna happen some day in MARCH 2018, by the way!)

With a different combination of medication, I have felt good in the last 2.5 weeks. I can’t describe how grateful I am to feel more human, and in the final month of this journey, when a whole lot of items need to get checked off the to-do list. It’s been a gift to feel better, and I’m not taking it for granted. The anxiety has lifted significantly (amazing how that’s possible when you’re not regularly running to the toilet). I’ve been able to read and learn about labor and delivery and how to care for an infant, and to remember that God is faithful, and that I can trust Him in all of this.

It’s March, y’all. A new kind of madness will begin soon, and I know, I know… after the baby comes, we’ll be more tired and blah blah blah blah blah. I hear you. You don’t have to tell us that. I can only take it a day at a time right now, and right now, today, on March 1st, this girl is happy and thankful that it’s March.

Let the new madness begin.

Much love,

Thuy

 

2017: Death and Life and All the In-Between

Posted on by pronouncedtwee

I didn’t write in 2017, but many noteworthy things happened last year:

  • On January 6, Nate and I made the gut-wrenching decision to put down my beloved dog Zeke, who would have turned 13 on March 22. He had struggled with an infection that caused him to contract pneumonia and sustain many hospitalizations on and off for almost three years. On January 6, he told Nate and me that it was time; we were so thankful for how clear Zeke was about his readiness. But to say that part of my heart was ripped out that day is an understatement. Zeke and I were a team for over 10 years, and we took care of each other at our lowest points. I miss him more than any blog could express and can’t wait to see him again in heaven.

Thuy and Zeke 2 - 1-6-17

  • On April 30, Nate turned the big 4-0! With the help of friends and his parents, I pulled off a successful surprise party for him a few days before his birthday. See?! It was great fun to celebrate him and bring together in one place a lot of StL friends from different spheres of his life.

Nate_40th Surprise Party

  • On June 6, five shorts months after losing Zeke, my ex-husband made the gut-wrenching decision to put down our cat, Grey, whose cancer had metastasized all over her tiny body. She would have turned 12 in April. We had gotten her when she was less than six weeks old. Grey lived in DC for the past couple years, and though I hadn’t seen her since summer 2015, I deeply grieved her passing. She was mean and feisty to most people, but funny and cuddly with us (most of the time) and came to tolerate Zeke’s existence after a few years. How I love and miss my pets.

Grey and Zeke

  • In June, after being employed at the same university for almost 14 years, I resigned. It was difficult to leave some great co-workers and students, but the decision was right for us and ushered me into – quite literally – new, life-giving endeavors.
  • Nate and I decided to try to start a family and I got pregnant in June. I’m currently 30 weeks pregnant, and I still can’t believe it. I wonder when it’s gonna hit me, y’all. Maybe around March 12, our due date?? I spent most of my adult life not sure if I wanted children, and now I’m in disbelief that it’s happening and that I’ll have my first child when I’m a few months shy of 38. Who knew I’d bring a 3-month old to my 20th high school reunion this summer?! What a miraculous gift to carry life inside me, and yet, how trying pregnancy has been. I thought it would be way easier. I didn’t think I would be dealing with nausea and vomiting in week 29, and I LOATHE puking. In my long-distance running days, I used to think training for and completing a marathon was the hardest physical feat I would ever experience. Oh my. I was wrong, wrong, wrong! By the way, did I mention I was wrong?? I’m so excited to meet our son or daughter, and I’m so grateful for this blessing. But I’m also so ready to not be pregnant anymore.

Here’s our babe (gender unknown) at the 20-week ultrasound in late October (I don’t know what the big thing on the left is, but it looks like a bird or animal kissing his/her forehead!):

Baby_20-week ultrasound

  • In June and July I started Vietnamese lessons again with my oldest sister and dear friend Kim and learned and memorized my first Bible verse, Psalm 118:24! Ask me to say it to you the next time you see me. For about 7 seconds, I sound like a legit Vietnamese speaker! Learning my native tongue has been an emotional, stop-go process for years, but I’m giving myself a pat on the back, and even some grace, for the baby steps I made with my sister last year. I’m proud of myself for that.
  • In August, I began a long-awaited goal by starting the Master of Arts in Counseling program at Covenant Theological Seminary. I’ve been taught by and learning alongside some professors and fellow students who seem to have Jesus in the center of their lives. Last semester was challenging, but I so enjoyed joining this new faith community and am grateful to Nate for supporting me in returning to school.
  • In September Nate and I started co-leading a new community group (CG). With a new CG structure based on geography, we met an entirely new group of people, which can be a scary thing! But God has done what God always does – stretching us, teaching us how to care for one another, and helping us move closer to Him.
  • In late October, while 4.5 months pregnant, I was in a hit and run. A man in a company truck sped through a red light and totaled my car as I was turning left. He got out of his car and screamed across the intersection to ask if I was ok, and then as I moved my car to the shoulder, he left the scene before the police came. I and Baby Kneezel miraculously walked away 100% unharmed – no aches and pains, nothing. I saw my counselor shortly afterward to process a lot of anger about the whole situation. And saying goodbye to my reliable little Civic was more emotional that I thought it would be, but God blessed us with a great used Honda CR-V just a couple weeks later. And the extra space will be helpful with the baby coming soon.

Civic_Accident

  • On November 5, Nate and I celebrated our first wedding anniversary! We had a fun staycation in St. Louis by going to the Cheshire Inn and eating yummy food in the Delmar Loop all weekend. Nate has become a friend and partner like no other. Over and over again, he has shown me the redemptive love of God in our short marriage, and I have been changed for the better by knowing him. Also, his hilarious, spontaneous dance moves in our living room continue to keep me laughing and make life more interesting!

Thuy and Nate_1-year anniversary

  • On November 7, Nate and I closed on my old house that I had owned for 11 years and that had been a rental property for the past few years. We took a decent financial hit in the sale, but the peace of mind that came by no longer having two houses was more than worth it. Emily Booker is the best real estate agent ever. I told her that had Nate and I not already chosen a name, in the event that we have a girl, I would name our daughter Emily! Selling a house can be really stressful, and she was a game changer as I was tackling school, morning sickness, and the car accident.

2017 was both hard and wonderful, as every year – every day – can be. I think it’s profoundly important for all of us to remember that a new year is a time of hope and renewal for some, and just a continuation of grief and hardship for others. Wherever you are on that continuum, I pray that 2018 will give you continual glimpses of God and His grace.

I keep finding that His love and mercy are real and life-changing. I often reflect on where I was five years ago, and where I am now, and I don’t have sufficient words for how deep and wide God has carried me. Whether dealing with death or life or all the in-between, I have seen Him touch everything and show me who He is, and just how much He loves me. It is this unending grace and love of Christ that I hope to pass on to our child.

I wish you love and peace in 2018,

Thuy