It has been awhile since I have written a thoughtful post. You know, the kind that consists of me spilling out my feelings to you? That kind. : ) Blogging has been tricky for me. It’s not in my nature to let the world in on my inner thoughts and feelings. I usually keep those to my close friends and family. And yet, I know there is beauty in vulnerability and in speaking out about what is real, especially the tough and imperfect things. Life is better done together.
I am sitting outside in my backyard and it is such a beautiful day. The sun is shining on my face, birds are chirping, cars are bustling by and I hear Lucy’s chimes lightly singing in the soft breeze. I am sipping my favorite jasmine white peach iced tea and watching Oliver run around the yard and play baseball with Shaun. I am parked on a cushioned chair, tea in hand, because my nearly 37 week belly is making me feel tired and limited lately. I don’t say that to complain, I couldn’t be happier about Ezra and I am getting so anxious to meet him.
As I watch my three-year-old in action, I am constantly amazed at how smart, imaginative, silly, and sweet he is. He is a boy- no more baby. He is out of diapers, full of opinions, and fun to just hang out with. I can’t even fully remember what it is like to have a tiny baby, so I am feeling a bit nervous. I feel like I might turn out to be that awkward, fumbling mom with the terrified look on her face because I’ve forgotten everything and now have two kiddos to juggle. I am crossing my fingers that some bits of knowledge from my experiences with Oliver when he was little come back to me. I hope that I will get in the swing of things with a tiny baby and a little boy in tow.
Sitting here watching the boys take full advantage of the nice weather makes me think about what life would look like if Lucy was here. I wouldn’t be pregnant. She’d be walking around in a sun dress, likely trying to keep up with her big brother. Truth be told, I would probably have just finished nursing and jumped head first into diet and exercise because well, summer weather. The longer Ezra is a part of our lives, the more bittersweet it is to think of what life would be like if Lucy was here. Of course I miss her daily, and would do anything to get her back, but now Ezra is as much a part of the family as she is. I am so thankful for him and I am glad to be sitting here, big and pregnant, ready to hold him in my arms
When I imagine what it would be like if Lucy was here, it feels weird because Ezra wouldn’t be here. If I could do it, I would conquer death and time, super woman style, and have all my children here with me. What a fantasy, right? And yet, Jesus has done it for me. He conquered death and time and there will be a day when I squeeze all my kids at once, when all the Tomczak puzzle pieces are accounted for and when we fit together as a family in one place. It is this dream that seems unreal, but one day it will be very real.
I have continued to have weekly ultrasounds with my doctor to check on Ezra. So far, each week Ezra has been a champ as he passes the tests with flying colors. I am amazed at how calm and relaxed I feel at 37 weeks. I thought I would for sure be bubbling over with intense emotions at this point, maybe even having emotional breakdowns. I almost feel normal, but not quite. I feel nervous for labor, like any mom does. I sat down to write a birth plan the other day, and to be honest it felt like a really silly endeavor after what we have been through. The details, although important in truth, don’t feel that important. There is only one thing I really want this time- a live, healthy baby.
I am nervous for labor for all the obvious reasons that any mama is- the uncertainty is heavy in labor, I won’t know when it will happen, how long it will take, how bad it will hurt, etc. And beyond that, weighing even heavier than any physical pain is how I will handle labor emotionally. Will intrusive memories of what happened to Lucy rule over me? Will I be able to hold it together through physical pain and crazing stirring emotions as my mind teeters between her and between him? Will fear grip me harder than it ever has? Can I do this?
I feel like I have a mountain to climb with the heaviest backpack full of physical, mental, and emotional bricks. They are all real, solid, and piled in. They are a part of me, so I can’t just dump them at the bottom of the mountain and leave them behind. They feel as real as my right arm. I have to climb with these bricks because they are pieces of where I have been in birthing my children and where I am going. They have names like, death, fear, trauma, tiredness, uncertainty and pain. No one can take them away, but I am thankful to have people walking with me. I have encouragement and support through the prayers of friends and family, and the physical presence of my husband and birthing team. Most importantly, I have God to help me carry the load, unpack the heavy bricks on the mountaintop and replace them with the lighter load of his love and goodness.
“For I, the LORD your God, hold your right hand; it is I who say to you, ‘Fear not, I am the one who helps you.’” Isaiah 41:13