Written on Monday, September 9, 2009.

So Chris and I went home this weekend to tell my family that I am sperminated. Everyone was very excited. I wasn’t surprised. My mother has been dreaming of having grandchildren since her own children were old enough to get sassy, so it was no surprise when she screamed with delight at the news. It was so good to be able to tell everyone our fears and have them reassure us that we are not the first, nor will we be the last couple who has accidentally gotten pregnant with a baby that they didn’t really want. Apparently no one has enough time, experience, or money for babies when they come, and that is what makes it good. Apparently.

I can’t say that I am totally okay with the idea yet. I went to Books A Million the other day and just sat there in a daze, reading all these different books on pregnancy. I learned that the little goo baby in my belly is about the size of my baby toenail, that people usually don’t get sick until the sixth week (so I can add vomiting all day long to the list of things to look forward to) and that pretty soon my veins are going to create a blue spider web effect over my chest and legs. Super.

I still don’t feel any connection to the goo. I keep thinking any moment I am going to wake up in my bed and be 14 again, and all of this marriage and baby business has been a very bizarre and realistic dream. The marriage part has been wonderful, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything. I love what Chris and I have so much that I don’t want it to end yet. Neither of us do. We like being the married couple with the dogs. That is a good look for us. The extra 25-40 pounds that I am supposed to gain is not a good look for us. But there’s hope…

Somewhere under all of that fear and sadness of the changing landscape of our lives, there is the constant reminder of a theme that has been prevalent for me since the day I was born.


He has already stitched together all of my days into a beautiful life-quilt of sorts. There’s my birth, the shoes from my first steps, the blanket I loved so much as a child, some fur from my favorite hamster Gizmo, upholstery from my first car, my prom dress, my wedding dress, my cap and gown, my dogs, my paintings, my dreams, my fears, and yes, even little goo baby is sewn on there -beaming up at me like he has always been. ALWAYS BEEN.

The problem is not that the quilt is  in progress and has taken a turn for the worse, but that I will never be able to see the finished product at once. I can assess my past pretty well, and see the parts of the quilt that fall behind me, but what lies ahead is a mystery.  As long as I am a citizen of earth, I will never be able to see the beauty of my life-quilt in one spectacular piece. I guess that is what heaven is for.

But every once in a while, I get to see a glimpse of the Creator, as he points out a new feature of the quilt. It’s like God is telling me that while he stitched away at my life, in the darkness of eternity past, he was saying, “I love you”. Stitch. “You are special”. Stitch. “You are mine”. Stitch. The goo baby portion of this quilt is no different. The creator of the universe took the time to stitch around all of his little fingers and toes. He stitched all of the details of his tiny goo face, his microscopic heart, his little hopes and dreams. Goo baby was meant to be on my quilt, not because I dreamed him up, or I asked God to add him there (certainly not), but because the Creator, the same guy who spoke light into existence and created seas and invented galaxies, economics, the theory of relativity, and love, wanted to make my life quilt beautiful by adding a baby.

So I have to take hope in the fact that God is pretty good at the beautiful life-quilt business. He’s the expert artist of the Universe- no one can do it quite like He can. If He says a baby goes on the quilt, then I have to trust that He knows what He’s doing, and it is going to look beautiful.

The extra 25-40 pounds that are going to take residence on my midsection- not so beautiful. But you can’t win them all, I guess.