i might need to take sex ed again

I.

I'm not sure how I made it to 28 without knowing much about the reproductive system, but I will be the first to admit that a fourth grader probably knows more than I do. I'm sure I'd benefit from watching that video they show to girls in elementary school to teach them about their changing bodies. I think it was called "The New You". I remember it being strange and alienating. (Changes? What changes?) It was foreign to me but there were some girls in my class who already had new bodies. Those girls used to huddle on the playground during recess to talk about their new, grown-up bodies while the rest of us with ordinary kid-bodies played kid-games and dug holes in the sand box that smelled of cat pee. These new girls were modest enough not to talk about the most obvious change, but they did allude to new hair and smells and aching chests. It sounded horrifying and fascinating. I searched my body for signs of change every night to no avail. Until one day.

One day, I noticed a new hair.

I ran to where "the new girls" were huddled at recess and said, "YOU GUYS! I have a hair. You know--a haaaaaaaaaaaaaaiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiir."

(Obviously, my desire to fit in outweighed any shame a normal person with any decency might have felt from yelling about pubic hair in public.)

I directed their attention to the tiny eyelash growing out of the mole on my right forearm and waited for them to tell me I was finally welcome to join their new-body club. They smiled at me. It was a pity-smile.

"Lina, that isn't a pubic hair. You'll know when you get one. And if you're not sure, you should ask your mom."

I was so disappointed.

I know about as much now as I did when I was in fourth grade. (Well, maybe a little bit more.) This is inconvenient (to say the least) when you're trying to have a baby. You're probably wondering how I could be so ignorant. Didn't I take Biology and Health? Yes and Yes, but I didn't retain anything. When my doctor said I was healthy enough to start trying to have a baby, I just stared at her and said, "So now what?" I almost started laughing when she said, "Take prenatal vitamins and have lots of intercourse." I immediately called Mike to tell him the good news:

Me: The doctor said I'm healthy! She said we can start trying.
Mike: That's great news, Bean! I'm so excited!
Me: She told me to have lots of intercourse. HAHAHAHA! She said "intercourse". Who says "intercourse"?!
Mike: Doctors do.
Me: Oh. Right. That's true.
Mike: Real mature, Bean.

II.

I was worried about being healthy enough to have a baby for a really long time. There's still a chance the hole in my heart could re-open as a result of the strain of childbirth, and my Graves Disease could flare up and make me sick all over again during pregnancy. And then there's conception. Honestly, I just read about it a few weeks ago, and it felt like I was learning it for the first time. (What if the sperm picks the wrong Fallopian tube?! What if the sperm and egg barely miss each other?!) Despite these odds, I am constantly reminded that God is bigger than these "what ifs", that there's no detail He has overlooked.

He has surrounded us with an amazing community of friends and family members to love, encourage and advise us during this pre-baby season. I am surprised and humbled by the prayers, advice and encouragement we've already received. I even got an instant message from a co-worker that said, "Am I allowed to ask if you've gotten your period? Because I really hope not!" They've lent books, shared their own stories, and directed me to informative websites. One friend gave me all of her prenatal vitamins because she and her husband are taking a different route to building their family. Another almost took a picture of her cervical fluid to show me what I should be looking for! (I'm relieved she didn't but I appreciated the thought.)

III.

Dear Future-Babies:

You are blessed to be so loved and prayed for by such remarkable men and women. I hope we meet you soon! There are a lot of people who are excited to meet you.

There are a lot of people we want you to meet.

Love,

Mama Bean (And your dad. And Crosby and Gemma, too.)

Thankful for firsts. Sort of.

I remember a lot of firsts.


I remember the first time I ate cottage cheese. It was Grandparents Day at school, and since my grandpa didn't speak much English (and I didn't speak much Lao), I ate lunch with a classmate and her grandparents at Sizzler.


I remember the first time time I slapped a girl. It was impulsive, and I immediately regretted it after I did it. I was in 5th grade. (I have never slapped anyone since.)


I remember my first kiss. It was exhilarating and hungry and wet. I was 19. He smelled like crisp air and clean laundry.


And even though it hasn't happened yet, I know I will always remember this Thanksgiving. Because this Thanksgiving, I'm going to host my first Thanksgiving dinner. For my family. In my home.


I. AM. ANXIOUS. (Understatement.)


I didn't think I'd be in this position for a few years! Yet, in too few days, I will be frantically cleaning my house, bathing my dogs, peeling potatoes and trying to figure out how to seat nine people in my dining room. (Our table comfortably seats four.) I have to think positively. Otherwise, my mind begins spiraling out of control. 


How will I cook an entire Thanksgiving feast in my tiny kitchen? Can I even fit an entire turkey in my oven? Do I have place settings and seating for nine adults? Do I need to decorate?! Am responsible for creating traditions?! Will they like what I cook? What if they're disappointed? Look at my cuticles. My skin looks terrible. I look haggard. My spider veins look more pronounced today. I feel bloated. I want to eat cake and watch a Harry Potter marathon.

In addition to worrying about Thanksgiving dinner, my body has decided to shut down. I feel like a five-year-old is sitting on my head (and is hitting me in the face), and every time I cough, which is often, I feel like I might pop a lung.

I'm freaking out now, and I'll probably freak out on Thanksgiving day, but I know I'm missing the point. 

I have many reasons to give thanks. 

I am thankful for Mike Fox.
I am thankful for our home.

I am thankful that I get to prepare a meal for my family.

I am thankful for my tiny kitchen and too-small oven and table that only seats four. 

I am thankful for my family and friends.


I hope I have good news to share after Thanksgiving, but if not good news, at least hilarious stories about how I botched the whole dinner and ended up feeding everyone fried rice.


What are you doing for Thanksgiving? If you're cooking, what are you making? Do you have any advice on how not to botch Thanksgiving dinner? If so, please share!

a safe place

After months of constant motion, financially crippling surprises and work crises, I think we’re finally slowing down.

I think we’re finally entering a safe place.

I feel like I’ve been clinging for dear life to a leaky vessel with one oar and torn sails for months. My spirit feels as haggard as I look. I bet I have scurvy. But the clouds are just starting to part, and the sea is pushing my leaky vessel toward the shore. Ahh rest. At least for now.

Without going into too much detail about the misadventures we’ve had because of Gemma, I will say that she is responsible for our debt, exhaustion and weight gain. Her curiosity landed her in the pet hospital and vet’s office several times over the course of a few weeks. There were lots of tears (sometimes cuss words) and late nights caring for her. Thousands of dollars later, we are still grateful she is alive. Life  feels like it’s getting a little easier.

I know God is throwing us a bone by giving us a breather. I think He’s preparing us for what’s next. For now, I am marinating in His blessings because, as always, they are surprising and good. Really good. He provided me with an opportunity to telecommute full-time so I no longer have to spend two hours in traffic. He also preserved my job during a massive “restructure” at work. He also sent someone to buy Mike’s motorcycle so we could pay off the debt we accrued from Gemma’s medical bills. And He continues to surround us with people who love us.

What’s next?

We want to meet our future-babies. A lot of people are really private about this but I can’t help but be excited. And scared. And overwhelmed. I have to remind myself that God is bigger than my sewed-up heart and wonky thyroid. (I had heart surgery when I was 14 to repair a hole, and I have Graves Disease--hyperthyroidism--though it has been in remission for two years.) I know my future-babies are hanging out with God in heaven, and that they're having a blast. I tell myself this every time I get a negative test result. It makes me a little less disappointed. Just a little. I don't want to neglect the good things in our lives just because God is saying, "Not yet."

For now, we are enjoying the quiet of this safe place. And every day, we ask, "Maybe Baby, are you in there?"