Back when Garrett and I decided to try for a baby, I had visions of chronicling our pregnancy journey on this blog with posts discussing the “deep things,” like how there needs to be a level of trust with your spouse to conceive a baby, or how physical pregnancy can teach us lessons about a sort of “spiritual pregnancy” where we see the purposes God has placed in us come to fruition over time.
But all the vomiting and nausea pretty much drove the “deep” right out of me.
And I was left with thoughts like, “How many restrooms does this store have?” and, “Larger underwear, I NEED LARGER UNDERWEAR!”
So I’m not having many deep thoughts these days. But every once in a while a tender thought will trickle through the nausea- and pain-related thoughts cluttering my mind and fight its way into my consciousness.
This has been a week of tender thoughts. I am currently in my 19th week of pregnancy and felt my little one move for the first time this past Monday.
I’ll be perfectly honest with you and admit that I thought it was gas, but a moment later realized that was probably a funny place to feel a gas bubble.
(There’s a tender thought in here somewhere, I promise.)
So then I started paying closer attention. And lo, the little child did move and kick. Wonderment and awe did fill the mother, as no gas bubble could.
My little sweet pea has been moving more and more as each day goes by. And that has helped me so much in really believing that my child is growing inside me. At a Christmas event last December, Beth Moore talked about Elizabeth’s pregnancy with the child that would become John the Baptist. Scripture tells us that Elizabeth became pregnant and remained in seclusion for five months. Beth pondered why the five months and came to the conclusion that Elizabeth may have waited until she could feel her child move inside her, in that way knowing for sure that she was indeed pregnant in her advanced years.
(My own pondering would have led to the conclusion that Elizabeth just thought it was best to stay at home when dealing with morning sickness accompanied by sudden projectile vomiting, but hey, that’s just me. Ok, back to tender thoughts. Focus, Leslie, focus!)
Now that I’ve felt my baby move, I can go with Beth’s theory and believe that Elizabeth wanted that proof. So much of the earlier part of pregnancy is cerebral. Sure, there’s some physical evidence of the pregnancy, but much of that could be explained away with other reasons. We ultimately have to believe in our minds that yes, there’s a baby in there somewhere. But when your child moves inside you, stretching those little arms and legs, all of a sudden it’s not about the back pain, weight gain, or nausea. It’s about cradling a child in your body, allowing your body to expand and change to make room for a new life.
I’ve been thinking about those little arms and legs. About the first time we’ll count tiny fingers and toes. About the first time that we’ll grasp the little hand and feel a grasping in return. Little arms wrapped around my neck in a hug, chubby little legs crawling, then walking. I wonder where those little legs will take my child, who those little hands will soothe. When those little knees will hit the ground in prayer for the first time with little elbows resting on a bed.
And then I think about Who those little hands will serve, Who those little feet will follow…
The Same Little Hands
By: Dorothy Brock Holtslander
His mother held Him close
As she gazed at His perfect face
She wondered if He knew even then
That He was the One, the Savior, the Lamb
She counted His toes, as new mothers do
and then tiny fingers
on tiny hands
How could she have know what was to be
That He would change the world for eternity
The same little hands
The same little feet feet
That would one day be nailed to a tree
She watched with a mother’s joy
as His little feet took their first steps
She took pride when He was a little boy
and with His little hands built His first toy
How could she have known, how was she to see
the same little hands
the same little feet
would one day be nailed to a tree
His Father knew what had to be
those same little hands
those same little feet
nailed to a tree
for you and me