Wuv, Twue Wuv

I'm no expert on love.  But in the past 373 days of marriage, I have learned a lot on the subject, especially in the past few weeks.

Valentine's Day fell on the same day we brought our newborn home from the hospital. And our first anniversary fell just six days later--and we were utterly exhausted and in no condition to celebrate. Plus, our house was littered with flowers and sweets to celebrate Jack's birth, so there was no need to add those sorts of traditional things to our collection.

So instead, we made a date to celebrate our anniversary and Valentine's day in March, and in the meantime we practiced "wuv, twue wuv," as it was so eloquently put it in The Princess Bride.

For us, true love looks like this:

• Sitting on the couch together, sharing a giant Twix bar
• Volunteering to change the messy diaper
• Giving each other a couple extra naps and/or hours of sleep in the morning
• Reminding one another that our love is for keeps, even when the going gets tough
• Emptying the dishwasher voluntarily
• Helping each other make the bed each morning (a much easier task when shared by two people!)
• Walking the dog when neither of us feels like it

So this is love. Or at least this is our love. What does your love look like?

The Scary Stuff

"A few more days, and this could've been a totally different outcome," said the doctor as he showed me the giant knot in Jack's umbilical cord.

Not only was Baby Jack born with his umbilical cord draped around his neck, he also had a giant pretzel-looking knot in his cord. As the doctor held it up for me to see, he pulled it tight, to show me how Jack's source of oxygen and nourishment might have been cut off.

I was already crying, but then I cried harder for what might have been. I cried because I was so thankful we had chosen Dr. Lichtinger to be our obstetrician. I believe it was God, working through this seasoned, highly-skilled doctor, that saved our son's life.

I was induced nearly ten days before my due date...and that's a rare thing for an OB to do. Generally they like their patients to go full term unless they see something wrong. I don't think Dr. Lichtinger saw anything wrong at my last appointment--at least he never told me if he did. He just said, "The baby is low, the baby is big, and I think we need to schedule an induction for this weekend."

Did he have a bad feeling? Did his years of experience or extensive schooling give him reason to pause? I don't know. But I knew, way before giving birth, that I trusted him to help bring my child safely into this world.

The fear I felt upon seeing that knotted cord was the fear of what might have been, what could have  happened. But usually my fears are of the future, the unknown, the possible bad things that are lurking out there. For an anxiety-prone person like myself, the list is pretty long because there are endless possibilities in the category of "What Could Possibly Go Wrong in My Life or the Lives of My Loved Ones."

Yesterday I was reading Psalm 53 and came upon this: "There they were, overwhelmed with dread, where there was nothing to dread."

The Psalmist was speaking of God's enemies, as though the dread they had to endure was part of their punishment. As a child of God, I wonder why I so often give into those feelings of dread. When daylight wanes and nighttime descends, why don't I entrust myself to God's loving kindness? Why do I feverishly review my "List of What Could Go Wrong" as though cramming for a mid-term exam? If I can trust a mere mortal like Dr. L, why is it so hard to surrender to the Divine?

I guess it's because I know Dr. L's agenda: He wants a positive outcome. He wants to retain his reputation as a great doctor. He wants me to be comfortable and happy. He doesn't want a lawsuit that could make his malpractice insurance go up. His goal is a safe delivery and a healthy baby.

God isn't like that. Yes He is good, and He wants good for me, but His definition of good is not always the same as mine. And He's definitely not safe. Good--yes, safe--not so much. His ways are so much higher than ours, and try as I might, I can't understand them. He wants me to learn and grow, to become more like Him, to bring Him honor and glory. He doesn't care about His reputation. He doesn't need malpractice insurance. He sees good in the eternal sense, not in the here and now.

And to me, that's kinda scary ... In a strangely comforting sort of way.

The story of Jackson--Part 1 of a Million

Choosing a name for our baby was not difficult. Keeping it a secret was. Most couples today share their baby's  name before he or she is born. And I admit, I always love knowing that information. But there are so few good surprises left in life that we wanted our babe's name to remain a mystery until the day of his arrival. So how did we decide on Jackson Kenneth Yarrow Doman? Let me start at the end.

Doman... Obviously his surname. It's not a name that was given to him by human choice but by the Divine. For some reason, God chose to place baby Jack in the Doman family. He chose for him to be born in sunny South Florida and be a part of a family that tries to put God first in all that we do. God chose Jack to be born to parents who will pray with him and for him--and teach him about the amazing love God has shown to us.

Yarrow... When we discovered we were having a boy, I wasn't quite sure what to do with that information. The Yarrow clan (my maiden name) is littered with girls and very few boys. In fact, on my dad's side of the family, no boys have been born since my father--which was way back in 1931! So the family name was dying off with all these girls. Ken and I wanted to preserve a bit of my family history by giving our son this second middle name. We also wanted to remind him of the kind of people his ancestors were. His great grandfather Yarrow was a hard-working farmer from Kansas. Charles Yarrow and his family were people of strong faith and a reverent fear of God. Although they lived very modestly, they were amazingly generous with the resources God had given to them. We hope our son will do the same.

Kenneth... My husband's first name is Raymond, but he has been called by his middle name, Kenneth, for most of his life. In passing along this name to our son, I pray every day that he will turn out like his dad. I know it probably sounds sappy, but truly, I couldn't ask for anything more. Ken is one of the kindest, most gracious, loving, hard-working people I have ever known. He is devoted to his family and to his God. He is trustworthy beyond a shadow of a doubt. And he is way intelligent--although he never flaunts it nor uses it to make others feel less. He is a friend to all--people of success as well as the down and out. He has every quality I hope my son will inherit.

Jackson... Ken comes from a small town in Texas called Jacksonville. He was raised there, as was his mother and grandparents. It's a special place with special people. They rally around each other and help each other out in times of need. They look out for each other and have many of the small-town values that we hope our son will possess. So the name "Jackson" is a nod to all the wonderful people from Jacksonville, Texas who helped Ken become the person he is...from his grandparents to his friends to his teachers to his employers to his amazing mom, who still lives there today.

Even more importantly is the traditional meaning of Jack: God is gracious. What a profound thought. In a recent interview, Bono, of U2 fame, described grace this way:

You see, at the center of all religions is the idea of Karma. You know, what you put out comes back to you: an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, or in physics; in physical laws every action is met by an equal or an opposite one. ... And yet, along comes this idea called Grace to upend all that "as you reap, so you will sow" stuff. Grace defies reason and logic. Love interrupts, if you like, the consequences of your actions, which in my case is very good news indeed, because I've done a lot of stupid stuff. ... I'm holding out for Grace. I'm holding out that Jesus took my sins onto the Cross, because I know who I am, and I hope I don't have to depend on my own religiosity. ... That's the point. It should keep us humbled.

Jackson Kenneth Yarrow Doman. Our baby. Our undeserved blessing from heaven ... a product of his unique heritage, our hope for the future, and a reflection of our belief in the limitless grace of our God.

the next BIG thing

Today I had my weekly OB appointment. I have three weeks to go until my due date, and I was certain I'd be dilated...at least 1 centimeter, right?! I guess every pregnant woman expects to go early--probably wishful thinking combined with a feeling that her body is completely maxed out.

But I wasn't dilated a bit! The doctor said the baby is considered full-term at this point, so he gave me a couple homework exercises I could do if I want to move things along--including drinking raspberry juice (who knew?) and some acupressure points to rub that are supposed to help bring on labor.

While I confess I did stop at Target and get some raspberry lemonade, I am really not in any big hurry to have the baby. Yes, I am uncomfortable. Yes, I am excited to meet this child of mine. But I'm trying to enjoy the moment. Once that boy comes out, there's no going back in.

Many years of my life have been spent looking forward to the next big thing. I think it's common to the human condition. When we're in school we look forward to summertime. As summertime boredom sets in, we look forward to a new school year. We look forward to leaving our parents' house and going to college. We want to find the love of our life and get married. We anxiously await a  +  sign on that blue stick. Then we're waiting for the baby to arrive. Then we're waiting for the baby to go to school. Oh, and did I mention buying a house with a yard and a white picket fence? Getting the better paying job? The long-awaited vacation?

Too often I've bartered the enjoyment of today for the expectation of what's ahead. I don't want to do that anymore. I want to love today. I want to be all here, right now, in this moment, savoring this breath.

That's not to say I don't look to the future. I keep the window open an inch or two because I know God has wonderful opportunities ahead. I want to feel the breeze of anticipation. I can't wait to see what He will do.

But for now, I will delight in that breeze ... only while I soak up the sunshine of today.