I've recently added to my vocabulary the word "prodromal"
prodrome
[prō′drōm]
Etymology: Gk, prodromos, running before
1 an early sign of a developing condition or disease.
2 the earliest phase of a developing condition or disease. Many infectious diseases such as chickenpox or measles are most contagious during the prodromal period. prodromal, adj.
Which is not to say that pregnancy is contagious--but to say that the earliest signs of labor are evident. But, for those of us who've never experienced the glory of full blown labor these "early" signs can be fairly daunting--you mean this could go on for days ?! It's all the energy of waiting for Christmas, Easter and your Birthday--all whilst running for a finish line that seems to be beating it's own retreat, pulling further and further away as you begin to draw closer and closer.
Apparently actually giving birth is more elusive than I thought. Our OB offered us the option of inducing labor this week--an option we'll turn down (no matter how little I sleep darn it!). But, I'm thinking that (for me) skipping this last little bit would be sort of like going from Lent to Easter without the Holy Week in between. Christmas without the journey to Bethlehem, the empty tomb without the cross.
That said, I do hope Christmas/Easter/the boy's birthday comes soon. Like the chair waiting in anticipation for Elijah, my arms are waiting for you.
Showing posts with label pregnancy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label pregnancy. Show all posts
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Friday, December 11, 2009
Advent, the f-bomb and me...
So, I've been contemplating the propers for this coming Sunday (the third Sunday in Advent). And, in the Gospel we have good ol' John the Baptist calling the crowd a "brood of vipers!". It's a rather abrupt start to the good news on a wintry Sunday and it leads to some unusual homiletical cud...
When my sister and I were teens (13 and 16) my mother began to use swear words in addressing us. And, it wasn't just mild swears--she used the f-bomb with frequency and sort of evolved from there. When I complained about her language she claimed that nothing else worked to "get our attention". While I'm still traumatized by the amount of cussing my mother continues to engage in (having gotten into the habit) I am also intrigued at the idea of how she felt that she needed to go to this extreme to get us to listen to her. So as I contemplate John's fiery language it occurs to me that it is, perhaps, a rhetorical device used to get their, and our, attention.
Was this device effective? Was cursing the crowd the best way to begin the relationship and spread the good news? Perhaps, perhaps not. And, as scripture tells us, they didn't actually start to wonder if he was the messiah until he enjoined them to live with justice, mercy and compassion. So, it wasn't the anger or cursing that kept them engaged and made them wonder if the world was on the brink of being transformed. Rather, it was his emphasis on the need for change and transformation as they prepared for the arrival of the true messiah.
But, his opening curses are still ringing in our ears and we find ourselves listening--reading on to see what this emphatic and unusual man is about. God does go to such extremes to get our attention, no?
Where is God trying to get our attention this Advent season? Where are we finding ourselves brought up short by unexpected encounters with truth? Where has the miraculous been brought to our attention?
For me, it's the movement within and the combined joy and fear I experience as I contemplate the baby on the way It's a glaringly obvious, for me, experience of the fear/joy that Mary must have experienced with her own pending birth. And this pregnancy serves as a reminder of the depth of love God has for all of us in God's willingness to become vulnerable to the reality of human suffering.
It's a season of already but not yet incarnation. And, I am in the thick of it.
(completely unrelated...who on earth thinks it's okay to tell a pregnant woman that she's looking "fat"! I'm just kind of wondering what planet I was on when I was told this by someone who knows that I am pregnant!!!)
When my sister and I were teens (13 and 16) my mother began to use swear words in addressing us. And, it wasn't just mild swears--she used the f-bomb with frequency and sort of evolved from there. When I complained about her language she claimed that nothing else worked to "get our attention". While I'm still traumatized by the amount of cussing my mother continues to engage in (having gotten into the habit) I am also intrigued at the idea of how she felt that she needed to go to this extreme to get us to listen to her. So as I contemplate John's fiery language it occurs to me that it is, perhaps, a rhetorical device used to get their, and our, attention.
Was this device effective? Was cursing the crowd the best way to begin the relationship and spread the good news? Perhaps, perhaps not. And, as scripture tells us, they didn't actually start to wonder if he was the messiah until he enjoined them to live with justice, mercy and compassion. So, it wasn't the anger or cursing that kept them engaged and made them wonder if the world was on the brink of being transformed. Rather, it was his emphasis on the need for change and transformation as they prepared for the arrival of the true messiah.
But, his opening curses are still ringing in our ears and we find ourselves listening--reading on to see what this emphatic and unusual man is about. God does go to such extremes to get our attention, no?
Where is God trying to get our attention this Advent season? Where are we finding ourselves brought up short by unexpected encounters with truth? Where has the miraculous been brought to our attention?
For me, it's the movement within and the combined joy and fear I experience as I contemplate the baby on the way It's a glaringly obvious, for me, experience of the fear/joy that Mary must have experienced with her own pending birth. And this pregnancy serves as a reminder of the depth of love God has for all of us in God's willingness to become vulnerable to the reality of human suffering.
It's a season of already but not yet incarnation. And, I am in the thick of it.
(completely unrelated...who on earth thinks it's okay to tell a pregnant woman that she's looking "fat"! I'm just kind of wondering what planet I was on when I was told this by someone who knows that I am pregnant!!!)
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
"The Womb of Advent"
Last year, at this time, I was angrily putting away the book The Womb of Advent written by Mark Bozutti-Jones in which we uses his own family’s pregnancy and impending birth as a foil for reflecting upon each day of Advent. I just couldn’t do it, I couldn’t read about the joy (and fear) of pregnancy and child birth when my own heart was so broken and my own womb so empty.
What a difference a year makes…and now I get it. Now I understand what I didn’t last year (altho’, for no good reason, I’m still a bit angry at the aforementioned author!) that anticipating this baby is like anticipating Christ--terrifying and joyful—fearfully and wonderfully made—within but not without, yet. But, I am sensitive to the reality that my own joy is another's pain and was once my own. So this Advent I pray for those who long to become parents yet find themselves still waiting, watching and hoping.
At the same time, this joy that was so (seemingly) long denied brings me full circle. This new awareness of Advent is rather like my first spring after my first long, cold winter. When I saw the first snow drops bloom I accepted that it would (despite all evidence to the contrary) be warm again and that life would return to the landscape. With that realization everything I’d ever intellectualized about the resurrection burst open. I suddenly felt the resurrection with a sharp awareness of grace that I still cling to each February/March when I begin to feel the despair of the coldness clinging to my bones.
And, now, I feel the impending birth in a way that goes beyond the ability of the mind to comprehend. Preparing a place for this baby in our lives and our home consumes us—much as I am sure the impending birth of the baby Jesus consumed his young mother.
I did not and do not want this to be a “pregnancy blog”, yet perhaps I need to accept that in the midst of pregnancy there is little else it can be. Perhaps this peculiar consumption is what I need to get my head around the reality that things that once were are no more and things that are not will be? Attempts at rational thought may occur—but realize that they are mere attempts—for the irrational part of me is contemplating the kicks felt yet unseen and pondering what motherhood will mean for us both.
For, just as Advent warns…this is truly the end of all that we have known and the beginning of a new life for us all.
What a difference a year makes…and now I get it. Now I understand what I didn’t last year (altho’, for no good reason, I’m still a bit angry at the aforementioned author!) that anticipating this baby is like anticipating Christ--terrifying and joyful—fearfully and wonderfully made—within but not without, yet. But, I am sensitive to the reality that my own joy is another's pain and was once my own. So this Advent I pray for those who long to become parents yet find themselves still waiting, watching and hoping.
At the same time, this joy that was so (seemingly) long denied brings me full circle. This new awareness of Advent is rather like my first spring after my first long, cold winter. When I saw the first snow drops bloom I accepted that it would (despite all evidence to the contrary) be warm again and that life would return to the landscape. With that realization everything I’d ever intellectualized about the resurrection burst open. I suddenly felt the resurrection with a sharp awareness of grace that I still cling to each February/March when I begin to feel the despair of the coldness clinging to my bones.
And, now, I feel the impending birth in a way that goes beyond the ability of the mind to comprehend. Preparing a place for this baby in our lives and our home consumes us—much as I am sure the impending birth of the baby Jesus consumed his young mother.
I did not and do not want this to be a “pregnancy blog”, yet perhaps I need to accept that in the midst of pregnancy there is little else it can be. Perhaps this peculiar consumption is what I need to get my head around the reality that things that once were are no more and things that are not will be? Attempts at rational thought may occur—but realize that they are mere attempts—for the irrational part of me is contemplating the kicks felt yet unseen and pondering what motherhood will mean for us both.
For, just as Advent warns…this is truly the end of all that we have known and the beginning of a new life for us all.
Thursday, October 22, 2009
Pregnancy and Facebook
So, one of the challenges of pregnancy has been keeping folks from finding out via facebook--which is less of a concern now, obviously, then it was during the tentative days of the first trimester. With family, friends, parishioners and friends of friends as "friends" on facebook I wanted to avoid being outed by those in the know before I was ready for everyone to know.
Having worked in a children's hospital I am more than a little conscious of the fact that a healthy baby is not a guaranteed outcome of pregnancy. I have no reason to believe that this baby is less than healthy or this pregnancy less than viable--yet, I also know the innumerable tragedies that can befall our little family in the months to come. So, letting my extensive group of contacts know that we are expecting has been a leap of faith which has been incredibly difficult to commit to.
Yet, pregnancy is something that can only be hidden for so long before it becomes a tad bit obvious that something is up. It's a very public kind of vulnerability and, as a priest I find that I am having to trust those with whose care I am entrusted in new ways. By letting my congregation share my joy at this new life I risk having to let them share in any pain that may come. I have to let them care for me through this journey and support me if things do not go the way we all pray they will. I don't find that caregivers tend to be very good at accepting care (altho' I have a wife who would make it clear that I am VERY good at accepting her care, perhaps a bit too good!) and to do so entails a mutuality that I find daunting. What, trust YOU with the care of my soul?
But, perhaps this is the very risk I need to take...perhaps my fear of vulnerability needs to be challenged and, for the next while, perhaps I need to just accept the loving (and sometimes overbearing) care as it is offered. Perhaps I need to be able to say, yes, I trust YOU with my soul.
Having worked in a children's hospital I am more than a little conscious of the fact that a healthy baby is not a guaranteed outcome of pregnancy. I have no reason to believe that this baby is less than healthy or this pregnancy less than viable--yet, I also know the innumerable tragedies that can befall our little family in the months to come. So, letting my extensive group of contacts know that we are expecting has been a leap of faith which has been incredibly difficult to commit to.
Yet, pregnancy is something that can only be hidden for so long before it becomes a tad bit obvious that something is up. It's a very public kind of vulnerability and, as a priest I find that I am having to trust those with whose care I am entrusted in new ways. By letting my congregation share my joy at this new life I risk having to let them share in any pain that may come. I have to let them care for me through this journey and support me if things do not go the way we all pray they will. I don't find that caregivers tend to be very good at accepting care (altho' I have a wife who would make it clear that I am VERY good at accepting her care, perhaps a bit too good!) and to do so entails a mutuality that I find daunting. What, trust YOU with the care of my soul?
But, perhaps this is the very risk I need to take...perhaps my fear of vulnerability needs to be challenged and, for the next while, perhaps I need to just accept the loving (and sometimes overbearing) care as it is offered. Perhaps I need to be able to say, yes, I trust YOU with my soul.
Sunday, October 18, 2009
The Pregnant Priest
Now that I am 13 weeks and 4 days pregnant (yes, we know the EXACT day!) I think it's safe to tell you that the major project I'm working on has been a new human being! It has been a delicate dance these past months as we've told family and our close friends while still feeling that it was not yet time to tell the parish. So, we announced to the congregation today which was a wonderful thing--what a loving and dear group of people attend Church of Our Saviour! I can tell already that this is going to be a church baby...
That said, we do ask for prayers for a safe and healthy pregnancy and the safe arrival of baby C around his or her due date--April 21st. We by no means assume that all will be well (too much time in a children's hospital will do that to a person), but since all signs would indicate that all is currently well we are working to trust that this baby will really share our lives (plus the obstetrician thinks he/she looks great and tells us that everything is as it should be--so maybe I should trust her?).
I reflected with some musings on all of this a couple of weeks ago and wanted to share them here...
It's a strange longing, for the abstract in both cases, for the oft' times surreal presence of a loving God and the equally surreal presence of the small being who shares my body. My love for both feels all encompassing yet I have it only on faith that I will someday dwell in the loving arms of God or hold my babe within my own loving arms.
At the very tail of the first trimester I have seen the child kicking and waving in the grainy screen of the ultrasound machine while the cool gel coated wand glides over my abdomen. Yet, like the remembrance of the Christmas child in the last weeks of Pentecost, I begin to wonder--was it real, is it real, will it be? It's a strange realization that my hunger for a God who can be so difficult to see from day to day is matched only by my hunger for the child who is, just as much as God, a member of a world filled with the already but not yet of all that is promised.
So, I pray for my baby and for my God. I pray the prayer of a woman who is already a mother but has not yet held her child; and that of a child of God who finds it easy to forget that I have always been held by God. Telling the world of the baby in my womb and the God who fills my heart demands a leap of a faith that can be frightening--yet keeping the secret of this love troubles my soul and as my heart and head become encompassed in anticipation, love and fear, it becomes more difficult to hide the reality that I have indeed been transformed.
It is a miracle. Truly.
That said, we do ask for prayers for a safe and healthy pregnancy and the safe arrival of baby C around his or her due date--April 21st. We by no means assume that all will be well (too much time in a children's hospital will do that to a person), but since all signs would indicate that all is currently well we are working to trust that this baby will really share our lives (plus the obstetrician thinks he/she looks great and tells us that everything is as it should be--so maybe I should trust her?).
I reflected with some musings on all of this a couple of weeks ago and wanted to share them here...
It's a strange longing, for the abstract in both cases, for the oft' times surreal presence of a loving God and the equally surreal presence of the small being who shares my body. My love for both feels all encompassing yet I have it only on faith that I will someday dwell in the loving arms of God or hold my babe within my own loving arms.
At the very tail of the first trimester I have seen the child kicking and waving in the grainy screen of the ultrasound machine while the cool gel coated wand glides over my abdomen. Yet, like the remembrance of the Christmas child in the last weeks of Pentecost, I begin to wonder--was it real, is it real, will it be? It's a strange realization that my hunger for a God who can be so difficult to see from day to day is matched only by my hunger for the child who is, just as much as God, a member of a world filled with the already but not yet of all that is promised.
So, I pray for my baby and for my God. I pray the prayer of a woman who is already a mother but has not yet held her child; and that of a child of God who finds it easy to forget that I have always been held by God. Telling the world of the baby in my womb and the God who fills my heart demands a leap of a faith that can be frightening--yet keeping the secret of this love troubles my soul and as my heart and head become encompassed in anticipation, love and fear, it becomes more difficult to hide the reality that I have indeed been transformed.
It is a miracle. Truly.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)