"You will make known to me the path of life; in Your presence is fullness of joy; in Your right hand there are pleasures forever." Psalm 16:11
Thursday, September 30, 2010
1 Year Later
Yesterday marked one year since Christian and I found out Claire was coming whether we were ready or not! It was somewhat crazy. I woke up at 5 am since I had to be at work rather early and I had wanted to make myself a real breakfast. I had to go to the bathroom and as I headed to the toilet, I thought, "Hmm, lets waste a pregnancy test this morning." Ever the pessimist, I firmly believed that I would find it to be negative and that I would go on with my month, plodding along to my next cycle. Groggily, I opened the package and took the test. I looked down and to my utter amazement, am extremely faint second line appeared on the test. I think I sat there for a minute, in a giggly, dumbfounded fog before I called for Christian come over. Reminder: it was % or 5:30 am when I found this out. He sprang out of bed and into the bathroom, thinking something must have been terribly wrong. I showed him the stick.
"What?" he said. "What does that mean?"
"I think it means we're pregnant."
"It's awfully light."
Yeah, but I think if you have even a little bit of the preggo hormone, it makes a line."
He held his hand up in a "high five" position. I humored him and slapped his hand. And he went back to bed. Mildly anti-climactic, but I was free to pass the information on to whomever I wanted to now. Laura was the first text message, who assured me that "yes, even a faint line means you're pregnant." We were so excited.
That afternoon, I went to my asthma doctor who, excitedly, gave me a blood test to confirm the test. I'm usually the only person in his office under the age of 75. He's a pulmonary specialist, so the majority of his patients are old people. I go because, unlike the rest of the world of people who suffered from asthma as a child, I did not outgrow the disease as an adult. I don't go to a pediatric asthma specialist, duh, so my options are limited. Good thing I like the guy. Anyway, when the nurse came to give me the test, she remarked, "He really doesn't do a whole lot of these." The next afternoon, Dr. Sayyur called and left me a message. With his Lebanese accent, he said, "Sarah, I haf some good nooos!" You could hear the smile on his face radiating in his voice.
Good news it was, indeed. What a blessing this little munchkin is. In a year, she's gone from a tiny head of a pin to a 4 month old, rolling, raspberry blowing, baby-chatting, nearly sitting up, push-uping little girl. She has moved from inside me, to our bed, to the co-sleeper, to her crib. It's an amazing, yet ordinary, miracle.
Today, I went back to Dr. Sayyur to renew my prescription and brought Claire with me. All the old people in the waiting room fawned over her. Dr. Sayyur kept saying how sweet and cute and happy she was. He seemed so glad to have had something to do with her arrival. I'm blessed that my girl is not just a blessing to me, but seems to bring joy to friends, family and even people I barely know or even don't know at all. She giggles at family, friends and admiring strangers. People at church inquire "where's my baby?" if they don't seen her in my arms. I think I'll be in trouble this Sunday when I try and put her down for a nap in the nursery during the first part of service.
As anything worth having, Claire is a lot of work. But I must always remember this: the Psalmist wasn't kidding when he said "Children are a gift from the Lord." We've been entrusted with a marvelous blessing, an immortal soul. I want to teach her to continue to be a blessing to others. I want to pray that God grants her that characteristic her whole life. Her name means "Clear" or "Bright," thus, it's my hope she continues to be the bright spot to those she continues to meet everyday.
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