Introducing “Baby G.”-our sweet little Birdie Rose

As you may have surmised, I have been a little MIA for the last few weeks. The preparation for Baby G., my parent’s and in-law’s arrival, and just generally being pregnant left me with little energy at the end of each day. I desperately wanted to keep all of you informed, but hoped you’d bear with me as we adjusted and prepared for our new life.

All the work, planning, waiting, plotting and prayer was worth the wait. On April 27th, at 12:02am, our lives forever changed.

Introducing-Birdie Rose:

She has made me realize so many wonderful things about God’s promises already. During the entire labor and delivery, the scripture, “He will never leave us, nor forsake us (1 Kings 8:57)” played on repeat in my mind.

The birth of Birdie Rose created a time where Biceps and I had to passionately lean on the Lord.

After walking several miles in the morning, my contractions began mid-afternoon on Friday, April 25th. We wanted to remain at home until they were appropriately 3 minutes apart. Biceps tried everything to distract me from the pain-jokes, food, and weird 1am television were all part of his repertoire.

Mostly, I laid on the floor and moaned like a beached sea whale, freaking out the cats in the process.

Finally, Biceps and I loaded up, left the kitties a little worse for wear, and ran off to the hospital on Saturday morning around 3am. For the next day, I labored-literally-in vain.

Biceps and Mom were at the helm the entire time–rubbing my back, applying moist heat, encouraging me, praying over me and force-feeding me honey sticks.

By Saturday night (33 hours later), we knew something was amiss. My contractions were increasing in frequency, length and severity of pain–and I was getting tuckered out.

Little Baby G. did not want to come out-at least not the way we had planned. But, God had His hand on the entire situation.

We had a rockstar nurse-Bekah-who did everything short of taking the pain on herself. She sat up with us throughout the night and prayed with us. Because of Bekah, we discovered after all these hours of natural labor, our little determined girl was breeched. Birdie had flipped at the last minute, after being in the correct position for the entire 9 months.

A few hours later, we were confronted by our doctor with the necessity of an emergency C-Section. This was not how I had planned it and I lost it right there in the delivery room. We were supposed to have her, drink our OJ and be on our merry way. But, Birdie Rose wanted more of a show.

And again, God was there. Our rockstar nurse followed us to the operating room and stayed with me throughout the entire procedure. My doctor prayed with me and calmed me down. And, 30 minutes later–Birdie was “born”.

I have no idea why the birth happened the way that it did. But, because of the unusual circumstances met by supernatural answers–I knew my God was watching over me. There were many details-when my water broke, when the doctor was available, how much I had eaten–that seemed to miraculously be taken care of.

The birth of Birdie Rose deepened my love for the Lord, for my husband and for my family. I already cannot imagine my life without her.

She is our blessing–one we waited 13 years for. And it was totally worth it.

“Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything. If any of you lacks wisdom, you should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to you.” James 1:2-5

4 Days and Counting to Baby G.

All at once, it seemed as if the weeks disappeared and we’re only left with a few days. One by one, I’ve ticked off the days approaching our “due date”. Of course, only God truly knows when this precious little one will arrive.

“For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb.” Psalm 139:13

These guys showed up on my doorstep late last night, looking for a place to stay. Of course, I invited them in, gave them a glass of water and sent them off to bed. They’re making some claim to be here for me and baby, but I truly know it’s because they like my cooking and our spring here in Tulsa.

“Do not forget to show hospitality to strangers, for by so doing some people have shown hospitality to angels without knowing it.” Hebrews 13:2

The preparations over the past nine months for Baby G.-both physically and emotionally-have allowed me enough time to think, adjust, process and become excited over this major life change. It’s just been Biceps and I for 13 years, and now we are bringing a helpless child into this world. A world that demands Jews to be registered in Russia, killers get to walk free because of technicalities and Justin Bieber is still an “artist”. It’s a scary place.

“For the grace of God has appeared that offers salvation to all people. It teaches us to say “No” to ungodliness and worldly passions, and to live self-controlled, upright and godly lives in this present age, while we wait for the blessed hope—the appearing of the glory of our great God and Savior, Jesus Christ.” Titus 2:11-13

However, I have hope for the next generation. (Or else I wouldn’t have spent an inordinate amount of time making things like this for my next generation to enjoy.) I know that God has a plan and a purpose for my unborn baby-one with a hope and a future.

“From birth I have relied on you; you brought me forth from my mother’s womb. I will ever praise you.” Psalm 71:6

And as Baby G. grows, this is where he/she will rest and contemplate the deeper meanings of life:
1. Do I really like brussel sprouts more than twizzlers as mom keeps insisting?
2. Is a book really better than an Ipad?
3. Will swimming right after eating really cause cramping?
4. Are cats really superior to dogs in every way?
5. Etc., etc.

“…and he has filled him with the Spirit of God, with wisdom, with understanding, with knowledge and with all kinds of skills—to make artistic designs for work in gold, silver and bronze.” Exodus 35:30-32

As this baby continues to stay housed within me, I have a keen sense of their needs and wants. However, I know that this is nothing compared to them “being on the outside”, when they are no longer prisoner to amniotic fluid and my whims of donuts vs french fries vs broccoli. I have spoken love to this baby, I have prayed for this baby, I have clung to my Father over its health. This child has caused my faith to grow in Him.

“Now faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see…By faith we understand that the universe was formed at God’s command, so that what is seen was not made out of what was visible.” Hebrews 11:1, 3

Just four more days of me looking like this. Then, you’ll see me covered in spit-up, carrying around a pink, fleshy, fat-rolled Baby G. And, I don’t know if I could be happier than that.

Just four more days.

“…but those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.” Isaiah 40:31

Of Family: Fears and Failures

You may argue with me, but my family is the best. My parents have always been consistently faithful to each other, to us as role models and to their commitment to lead a Godly life.

However, we aren’t without our mistakes. And I’m not without my regrets as to how I’ve treated them, what I’ve said  or my crappy attitudes when they don’t do what I want them to do.

Each time we all get together, I tell myself that I’m going to be mature, I’m going to respond with grace and humility and I’ll give to them generously.

But I don’t. I act like a bratty 8 year old. I fail terribly. I get crabby. I demand my way. I get ticked off, retreat to my closet, eat chocolate and cry. And pet the cat(s). Thank God for cats. Seriously.

Then, I crawl back to the party I’ve offended and ask for forgiveness. It’s the same dooloop over and over again. I feel hopeless that I’ll ever really change. And you’d think I’d learn.

After all, I’m old enough to know better, I’m a mother in waiting, supposedly a “professional” and a wife of 12 years. But 8-year-old-Becky rears her ugly head time after time after time after time…

I’m so thankful for the Creator of the universe and for His forgiveness. Otherwise, I may end up seriously hopeless-never leaving my closet, nutritionally destitute from my steady chocolate diet and perhaps even rejected by my cats due to stinkyness.

But in Him I find hope that I can and I will change-with His help.

“If you, Lord, kept a record of sins, Lord, who could stand? But with you there is forgiveness, so that we can, with reverence, serve you. I wait for the Lord, my whole being waits, and in his word I put my hope.” Psalm 130:3-5

Like me, you may have difficulties with the people you love the most. My intention with my vulnerability is to encourage you out of the stinky, chocolate-laden closet while in pursuit of His cleansing forgiveness.

Don’t give up hope. In Him there is hope!

What is my Mom thinking? (Installment #2 by Baby Greiman)

Dear Readers:

Baby G again, here. I’m past the 20 week mark and I’ve started to hear–a lot. Which means that I’ve started to assimilate some information as to who this woman is carrying me around.

I’ve heard her boisterous laugh that only a few get to hear. She usually tones it down for normal human consumption. But, Dad and I? We hear it all.

This-this-is my mom. She’s weird and eccentric. She runs into walls and corners of countertops. She drops hot coffee all over herself and her response is: “Geez, oh Pete’s”. (The only other participants of that phrase are avid users of denture cream and are pushing 90.)

She also sings at the top of her lungs while on the treadmill and sometimes gets so into it, she falls off the side. When she’s done singing-or just bruised up a bit, she prays. Usually, she starts with her parents, my Dad’s parents, then moves onto the siblings, then their kids, then me (“baby G”) and rounds it out with world events (which unfortunately she mixes up and ends up praying for Nelson Mandela; who she thought was sick and was in fact, dead).

But, you see this side of her. Calm, collected, composed. Holding in farts. Not spitting while talking.

This is instead the reality of my Mom. That’s one of her favorite faces to make, take a picture of and text to loved ones. She cannot grasp the “looking into the camera lens, rather than the front of the phone” concept. And, she is probably both spitting and farting at the time.

However, she has nice teeth. So, there’s that.

I’m just beginning to get to know these two. They started off normal enough-or so she says. She was a tough woman, working for a marketing company, and he was in a loud, unruly rock band. He wouldn’t wear shorts in the summer, she preferred dresses year ’round.

Years have passed and she’s become more comfortable in her skin, she tells me. She doesn’t feel the need to be tough. I’ve heard her cry over stories of animal cruelty and during commercials where soldiers return home. That’s normal.

But, then she cries while watching puppies eat on the Jimmy Fallon show. Makes no sense to me.

I think she’s been encouraged to be more herself (a.k.a. more weird) by that guy on the right.

And, they haven’t wanted to find out if I am a boy or a girl. So, they refer to me as either “Baby G” or “he/she”. Talk about confusing a little brain.

Just wait until I get into the open air and rock their world. Watch out, Mom and Dad. I’ve heard a lot of secrets, weirdness and farting-and I’m not afraid to use this information to my advantage.

Baby G out.