The Green Hornet

This weekend we went down country for our nieces fifth birthday celebration. It was fabulous and gave Rupi an opportunity to break out his Green Hornet outfit....

{For those of you from over the sea, the sun is very very (extremely) fierce in New Zealand so coverups like these are essential...}

Rupi is proving utterly fearless in the water which is wonderful and a teeny bit scary. So we are teaching him to swim pronto. So far he can jump in, put his head under while holding his breath and blow bubbles in the water. Super cute.

Blossom just took it all in her stride as her personal flotation device (a.k.a. Dida) ferried her around the pool.

Later all the little girls had a "disco" on the pool table. Rupi was not made very welcome (you know, he's a BOY!) but broke through the resistance to perform alongside the girl performers. All I can say is that I am more familiar with Katy Perry's latest album that I really wanted to be. FIREFLYYYYYYY!!!!!!

The small but mighty Green Hornet came, saw and conquered. Until next time!

Happy Anniversary!

In a far away land, 16 years ago today, on a rainy Saturday, we said "I Do, forever." We were young and so in love. We had no idea how good this thing called marriage could be. How, like a fine red wine, it would mature and deepen.

We started out with our marriage like a babbling brook, bubbling and exciting and over time, its become a river. Strong and deep and with hidden currents that God has built in it. We have been through amazing good times with laughter and fun. And we've had really sad times where all we could do was hold each other.

I could not imagine doing it with anyone else. Dida and I fit each other like a hand in glove. He is a provider, protector and amazing Dad. He is my best friend and I love him more than I can say.

Happy Anniversary hun!

Bounce back

This is one of those posts that's been germinating in my head for ages. As usual inspired by my friend Tea, who always makes me think and somehow we seem to land up working through similar things at the same time.

To make any sense of this, I need to explain me. I am a perfectionist and pretty hard on myself. I am learning to embrace failure and be nice to me. It's a process! So I have high expectations of where I should be. And sometimes it takes a while for it to dawn on me that perhaps I am having unrealistic expectations of myself.

One of those times is the time I have taken to heal after getting receiving breakthrough in our struggle with infertility.

We became parents in November 2008. 2008 nearly killed us with a failed adoption & a failed IVF cycle to start the year off and then the death of Dida's Dad in June 2008. We were mentally and emotionally shattered. There was nothing left. But we still had an incredibly stressful adoption to go through that was only approved at the very last second.

When Rupi came home the overwhelming feeling I had was relief along with a deep sense of gratitude. The intensity of these emotions abated after a while and I was left with sheer emotional exhaustion. There was nothing in our emotional tanks, we were wrung dry. And its taken two years for our emotional tanks to slowly fill.

I talked to God about it as I have been disappointed in myself. I thought that once I had breakthrough I would bounce back like a rubber band. After all I had breakthrough so why would I not be back to "normal"?

God showed me how it was like we had been in surgery. We had had something that needed surgery to correct. So when Rupi came home we had emotional surgery. And like with natural surgery, we needed time to recover from it. There is a period of healing required after surgery even though surgery may have "fixed" what needed to be fixed.

{Note: This analogy does NOT imply that infertility is something that needs to be fixed or that it is some kind of disease that needs to be cut out. Infertility is not a punishment from God, it's the result of a fallen world and God uses it to bring about His purpose. The analogy is a flawed example that helped me understand what had happened a bit more.}

After receiving breakthrough after a protracted trial there seems to be a time to heal required. Even though breakthrough has arrived, a time of healing seems to follow. This was unexpected and very humbling. It didn't fit with how I thought I should be. It's been a slow time of healing, of learning to dream again and also to let go.

I have let go being disappointed with myself and accepted the time I have taken to heal. God knows anyway and He's in control. His timing is perfect and I submit to it. So anyway, I hope this encourages someone out there. I know that I am not the only person to have gone through a long hard trial and also know that I am not the only person who has high expectations of myself.

It's ok to take time, God has eternity in His hands after all.

Wild thing

Once there was a placid, round baby boy called Rupi. He was gentle in nature and very snuggley. Then he had his first birthday and became a toddler.

A Wild Thing emerged.

Rupi is full-on. He does life at 100 miles an hour. There is nothing grey about him. Life for him is black and white, wonderful or awful, cuddles or tantrums. There is no grey. He is both sensitive and incredibly boisterous. He is a mass of contradictions bundled up in one small body.

He is Rupi, hear him roar.

We are contactly assessing, re-assessing and talking about him and his behaviour. He is like a little wild bear one minute and cuddled up in your lap the next. We try and keep one step ahead of him, investigating, praying and figuring out. This works some of the time. The rest of the time we keep saying "what the heck?!"

God has had His Hand on this little boy since the moment he was conceived. He protected Rupi and shielded him until he was placed in our arms. Then we watched Rupi attach and secure and grow into himself. Then he was unleashed.

There are amazing things planned for this man-to-be. Rupi's story will draw many to Him. And we think that to live such a big life he will need to be strong. And fiery. And full-on. Very full-on.

So here we are, doing life with a Wild Thing. It's crazy and appears chaotic from the outside. But from the inside there's a little boy with an adoring sister and parents. Who are cheering him on and can't wait to see what God will do in him and through him.

What I know

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Been talking to God about letting go. About not conceiving. And as I let go I realise some things.

I will never be that woman that has to let a child go. Through termination or adoption. I will never know what it's like to have to release. To turn and have to walk away. I will never know the pain of waking up in the morning and wondering about my baby. What they are doing that day. The pain of wondering what my child would be like, if I had made a different choice sitting in the doctors office.

I will also never know ordinary in motherhood. The sheer beauty of ordinary. Of making a choice to fall pregnant and then waiting with expectation. And for that expectation to easily and quietly be fulfilled. In my home, in my bed. I will never know the spontaneous joy of a positive pregnancy test and the anticipation of telling my husband.

As I thought about what I didn't know, good and bad, God turned me around to look at what I do know.

I know what it is to long for something with every fibre of my being. To long to be a mother and be able to sift that longing to see the bottom of it. I know that I longed to be a mother, pure and simple. To nurture and embrace. To enfold with love. And I know that I don't care how I am a mother, to be called Mama is enough.



I know what it is to see a tiny baby for the first time and fall in love. Unconditionally and utterly. I know what it is to be so scared that someone I love so much may not be a part of my life. And then to receive a phonecall that alters my very being. A phone call that says yes, he is coming home. I know what sheer joy feels like, the sweet taste of breakthrough.



I know what it's like to walk into a clinic with someone who is sacrificing for me. Who is embracing pain and suffering with no reward at the end, other than the hope of my pregnancy. I know the joy of pregnancy and birth even though I am barren. The joy of looking into a tiny face and knowing no-one can take her from me.

I know what is is to be loved for myself. I am loved by my husband for me. I cannot give him a child of myself, and yet I am loved. I know what is to be held, in times of incredible sorrow, and be told that I would be chosen again. No matter what, I would be chosen again.



I will never know natural conception. But what I know is worth that lack. Worth it a thousand times over.

“Sing, O childless woman,

you who have never given birth!

Break into loud and joyful song, O Jerusalem,

you who have never been in labor.

For the desolate woman now has more children

than the woman who lives with her husband,”

says the Lord.

“Enlarge your house; build an addition.

Spread out your home, and spare no expense!

For you will soon be bursting at the seams.

Your descendants will occupy other nations

and resettle the ruined cities."

Isaiah 54: 1-3

Letting go

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Dida and I went out for coffee when we were away. On. our. own. It was fantastic. We talked and talked and really connected. We talked about so much and of course we talked about children.

We have a big choice coming up this year. The choice to finish off our last round of treatment. Or not. Which may or may not give us the chance to fall pregnant. We didn't reach agreement but we did realise something else.

I won't be having a baby that I conceive by myself.

Ever.

My fertility has declined way beyond my years and lets face it, in terms of having a baby, I am no longer a spring chicken anyway. The odds of having a baby that would survive or be born without birth defects are getting lower each month.

**Disclaimer: If I DID fall pregnant naturally we would embrace & love the baby no matter what. We made the choice to parent Rupi before he was born regardless of any issues that he may have had and chose not to have certain tests when I was pregnant with Blossom, as we would not ever choose to abort. A baby does not have to be "perfect" to be in our family.**

God is the God of miracles. He is able to open my womb and give us a baby. But we feel that we also have a responsibility to Rupi and Blossom to make choices that we think are sensible. Sensible for our family, possibly not anyones elses. But choices we prayerfully make, for us.

So we are shutting the door to me conceiving. Not an easy choice as it means that we have to let go. Of 8 long years worth of hope that I will conceive. In the natural that means letting go of my genetic lineage. My genes stop here, with me. The end. Of course my lineage continues spiritually and emotionally. But naturally, it stops.

God has been talking to me about letting go. On so many levels. He said that 2011 is when I start new by letting go. So I lay this down. It may be a process not a single decision but I choose to let it go.

Let go of being ordinary- conceiving in an ordinary and wonderful way. And completely embrace the extraordinary. I am a mother in an extraordinary way. Barren but fruitful. Infertile but a mother.

Extraordinary. I like it.

Back

Back.

Back from 4 days away. In the town where Rupi was born. We stayed with my friends Nana. She has been so good to us and her house is a sanctuary for us and always has been.

My friend Meg and her hubbie are energised by people and we are energised by quietness but we found a good balance between the two. We lounged around and ran around and enjoyed the sunshine. It was good.

Strangely I am refreshed. I left Auckland exhausted and returned renewed. I can't wait to see what God has in store for this year. Mostly I long for His Presence and more time with Him. Can't wait.

Meg's hubbie took some photos of Blossom to match Rupi's 7 months photos and they are beautiful....

I am so grateful for my precious little family!