Waiting.

Yesterday I dropped a big packet of paperwork in the mail.

We had to answer question after question about our child. His health. His verbal skills. His sensory system. His social, self help, gross motor, fine motor, and general development.

His temperament.

444 questions, in total. None of them ours.

So now we wait. Not for answers to our questions, but for a phone call to make an appointment for an evaluation to get us started on a path that we hope will eventually yield answers to our questions and help for our child.

He's healthy, we know that. He's incredibly smart, we know that. He's not showing classic signs of common childhood disorders. We know that.

We also know that he is beautiful and bright and loving and strong and remarkable.

But he's having a really hard time, this precious boy of ours. And so are we.

Your prayers would be appreciated as we wait for answers.

My hope is in you, Lord
All the day long
I won't be shaken by drought or storm
A peace that passes understanding is my song
And I sing
My hope is in you, Lord

Cheeky.

There's a fabulous episode of Friends, one of my favorites, where Rachel's sister Amy visits. At one point, they discuss their sister Jill's recent weight gain. Rachel asks "Hips and thighs?" and Amy shakes her head and smugly says "a** and face." Rachel responds with a horrified "ohhh!"

Poor Jill. Been there, girl. The first place I gain weight, without question, is my face. There are three McLaughlin family curses: Chubby cheeks, frizzy hair, and wide feet. I got all three. My siblings got none of the above. (Further supporting my claim that the oldest child has it the hardest.) I have always hated how quickly my face shows a fluctuation in my weight — why can't I be one of those girls who gains weight everywhere BUT her face? You can always crop your body out of a picture, but there sure isn't much you can do about your face.

Unfortunately, it looks like my daughter is well on her way to learning that lesson the hard way.


I mean, SERIOUSLY. Look at those cheeks! Although she looks strikingly similar to to her brother as a baby and he grew out of them with time. Here's hoping that happens for her as well, otherwise Nate and I might be shelling out the big bucks for cheek reduction surgery down the road. (Maybe they do mother/daughter discounts?)

Also, based on her measurements she weighs 5lbs. At 33 weeks. This is not a good sign of things to come, my friends. Not a good sign at all. I think we might be having another gigantor baby, and possibly earlier than anticipated given the fact that today's non stress test confirmed I'm already contracting (like real ones, not Braxton Hicks) on a regular basis. Oh, and I've now had two different doctors suggest a c-section. Which, I gotta tell you, I'm beginning to consider a reasonable suggestion given baby girl's estimated weight.

And now for the comparison:


Calvin at 34 weeks, Calvin at birth, Baby Girl at 33 weeks. I can't believe how similar they look in the cheeks/nose/mouth.

Can't wait to meet my sweet cheeked girl in just a few weeks!

In case you're wondering, yes — I'm handling all of this far better than I did last time. It helps knowing that ugly, obese ultrasound picture does not necessarily equal ugly, obese baby. And that my body is capable of delivering babies up to 9lbs 11oz in size. Though still praying she's smaller than her brother was...

Worry.

For the past two weeks, I've been a bit of a mess.

Tomorrow is Calvin's last day at his daycare; Monday he starts at the new center. All I can do when I think about this is cry. I cry because I'm so sad he has to leave people he loves and a place he feels safe. I cry because I am still struggling with guilt over our decision. I cry because I am a nervous wreck about next week.

And every time I start crying (which has been almost daily, if I'm being honest), I think to myself — what an idiot. This is not that big of a deal. I need to adjust my thinking. I need to be thankful for the wonderful experience we've had this past year and excited for a new one. I need to stop worrying over things I can't control, things that haven't happened yet, and things that may or may not ever happen.

But I can't. Worrying is what moms do best, am I right?

What if he feels scared and alone in this new place? (He might.) What if he really hates it there? (He won't.) What if he screams and cries when we leave him every day? (He probably will, at first.) What if he bites another child and they all hate him and they kick us out and we're stuck with nowhere to go and I have to quit my job and we lose our house? (He likely will, they likely won't, the rest is a little dramatic.)

I really wish I could turn off my brain. And my tear ducts.

Every single night since the day he was born, I have prayed for and with Calvin. I pray for the protection of his heart, his mind, and his body. I pray for rest, for happiness, for comfort. I pray Calvin will come to know the Lord and that He will help us guide our son on that journey. I pray for wisdom for myself, and for Nate, in parenting him.

My son has been covered in prayer his entire life. I have no problem trusting God to care for Calvin in all these big ways — matters of life and death and eternity. So why am I giving in to worry and doubt instead of trusting God to care for him during this minor transition?

Jeremiah 29:11 says: For I know the plans I have for you, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.

I have clung to that verse in times of doubt regarding my own future, but until today I had never thought about it in terms of Calvin's life. How silly of me. God's promise extends to all of His children. He has plans for Calvin, hopeful plans. Future plans. Plans to prosper him. Plans to keep him from harm. Plans that I'm pretty sure don't include the loss of his childhood home to biting.

As a parent, the very best I can do is seek God's wisdom in the decisions I make for my children and trust that in the areas I am weak — as a person and as a mother — He is strong. I can't keep my son from feeling frightened next week. I can't control whether he bites or how the other kids react to him. I can't be sure he won't get kicked out of daycare for chomping on another child. But I can have peace in knowing we made a prayerful decision. I can trust that God will be there with us tomorrow afternoon as we say our tearful goodbyes to Elisha, that He'll be with us on Monday morning as our family begins a new chapter, and that He will care for Calvin (and calm his neurotic mother) during the days ahead.

On the way to work this morning, I received this text from Nate, who suffered through yet another round of my waterworks last night before bed. (He's a saint.)

"Did you see the beautiful sunrise this morning? I think that's God's way of telling us everything is going to be okay."

He's right, of course. Everything is going to be okay. And it was an incredible sunrise.


Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. Philippians 4:6-7