the reluctant pioneer

I woke to a gray and dismal morning. Wednesday. I'd made it 72 hours since my water broke. The first big prayers for our baby's safety were answered. Now I was free of the IV, off the Mag, and the steroids for baby's lungs were fully effective. I could focus my eyes, use the bathroom on my own and even move about my room. While I was incredibly grateful for all this, my spirit was fighting a cloud of depression. Newborn, getting him stabilized My first trip to the bathroom that morning revealed some pink on the giant pad that caught the continuous leaking from my ruptured membranes. I was caught off guard by the sight, but the nurse assured me this was normal. The smell of rain was heavy in the air. Every person that came into my room mentioned the deluge and resulting greening of their yards and trees. I smiled collegially, trying to picture our own nearly-barren yard and finding it hard to believe what they were saying. From my window, all I could see was a youn...

Today I was out in the beautiful sunshine, raking the weeping willow twigs that fall from the tree and multiply when they hit the ground. There is no end to them. No. End. ...And I thought to myself, it's a beautiful day, it will probably be a gorgeous evening (it is) and we have all these twigs that need to be burned. Perhaps tonight would be a good night for our first Spring fire. ...And I was taken back to a fire in our backyard exactly a year ago, this evening. A beautiful night filled with joyful hopes of a new Spring. The night before our world turned upside-down for nearly two months. Tomorrow is not Joey's birthday, Praise God, but it is the anniversary of the beginning of our journey through fear and grace, sadness and hope, anxiety and peace, when my water broke at exactly 30 weeks along. Add caption I came across this picture of my little pumping station in the hallway-corner of our bedroom. I had to include it because it perfectly capture...