Motherhood

Black History Month and the Women Who Are Nameless (An adapted repost)

Black History Month and the Women Who Are Nameless (An adapted repost)

When was the last time you went to your doctor? How about your OBGYN? Did you wonder how this specialty of medicine came into existence? I hadn’t given it much thought until I listened to a program on NPR a few weeks ago about the father of modern gynecology—J. Marion Sims.

But I don’t want to talk about him, at least not directly. February is Black History Month (and March is Women's History Month), so I want to talk about the women who made his discoveries possible. The women he practiced on. The women he studied. And more importantly, I want to talk about the women he exploited to find cures to ailments many of us no longer are at risk of facing.

A Review of "Holy Labor: How Childbirth Shapes a Woman's Soul"

A Review of "Holy Labor: How Childbirth Shapes a Woman's Soul"

If you are pregnant, or have been pregnant, you likely want good resources to equip you in your mothering. You may read books on pregnancy, labor and delivery, and even how to care for a newborn. But do you look for books that equip you to think through pregnancy, labor, and delivery from a theological perspective? Maybe you do, but, like me, your search has left you empty-handed. I have long wanted a resource that I could not only use for myself, but also give to other women as they wrestle through the deeply theological nature of pregnancy and birth.

The Baby Who Almost Wasn't

The Baby Who Almost Wasn't

I’ve spent the better part of the first trimester wondering if I would even make it to the second. And yet, here I am, rapidly growing belly and all. But to rejoice in the baby now means understanding all that this baby has endured up to this point. You see, it was just 8 weeks ago that we were certain that this baby was never going to make it outside of me alive. Here is the story of the baby who almost wasn’t. And how God surprises us even when all seems lost.

Football, Domestic Violence, and Raising Sons

Football, Domestic Violence, and Raising Sons

My grandpa coached football for his entire career. He gave his life to the sport, playing it in college and then spending his retirement years watching local teams play wherever he lived. My dad played football in college, coached my brothers growing up, and then enjoyed watching them play in high school and college. My husband loves football, joining the many men (and women) mourning the impending end of the football season. Even our youngest son loves football, saying one of the few words he knows (“football”) whenever he sees a game on TV. I have been surrounded by football enthusiasts and athletes my entire life, even though I have only a small interest in it. But I appreciate it.

On Pregnancy and the Incarnation

On Pregnancy and the Incarnation

Through the years I’ve grown so familiar with the Christmas story that I often miss the wonder that Mary actually carried the Son of God in her womb, in the same way that millions upon millions of women have done before her. The Christmas story is familiar, but the means he came to earth is utterly astounding. 

I’ve been pregnant or nursing during a few Christmases, so when the Christmas season rolls around each year I think about it in a different light than I did the many years before I ever carried a child in my womb. The familiarity of the story coupled with the familiarity of motherhood puts the entire birth narrative in a different light for me. For one, I’m often astounded that the God of the universe, the God who created all things, the God who sustains all things by the word of his power, came to earth in the form of a baby. What’s even more astounding to me is that he went through the entire process of birth in order to come into this world. He lived in a uterus. He came through a birth canal. He nursed at his mother’s breasts. He came in the most vulnerable, humble way, through a broken means of bringing life into the world.

When Birth Disappoints You

When Birth Disappoints You

“I’m just so disappointed,” I told Daniel in the weeks following my delivery of Seth. After two miscarriages and a complicated pre-term delivery with the twins, I just wanted some normalcy in my birthing experience. I wanted all the warm fuzzies that come with a screaming, slimy freshly born baby being thrust upon your chest. I wanted the adrenaline rush that propels mothers into the rigors of the newborn days. I wanted calm. I wanted to remember it all. I wanted an experience I could share with my friends when they visited me, and my plump nearly nine pound newborn baby. I wanted an experience of strength, knowing I did something powerful. 

Instead I got twenty six hours of labor, a baby out of position, a dropping heart rate, and a blood sugar crash (I had gestational diabetes). What started with promise ended in a C-section at 3:50 A.M. 

And to this day, I barely remember any of it.

Jeremiah, Motherhood, and New Hearts

Jeremiah, Motherhood, and New Hearts

Imagine being asked to serve a people who would not listen to you, a people who would not obey you, a people who would not respect you. Imagine serving a people who would see your counsel as foolishness and something completely not worth heeding. 

Meet Jeremiah. 

Or moms everywhere.

Did you ever think you would find kinship in your mothering challenges with the prophet Jeremiah? I didn’t. But I’ve been working my way through the book of Jeremiah this month, and have found a faithful friend for my journey.

When the Memory of Grief Lingers

When the Memory of Grief Lingers

The other day I was trying to remember something that happened a few months ago and the details all seemed a bit fuzzy to me. I have entire blocks of time where I have vague memories of the outline of what happened. I don’t typically struggle with remembering the details of my life (it’s a curse and a blessing), but as I get older there are only so many memories my brain can hold.

Grief, though, lingers in my memory whether I like it or not.

August is a weird month for me. There are many memories of August floating in my brain—memories of sorrow and memories of joy, memories of hope, mixed with memories of fear.

On the Olympics, Parenting, and Our Identity

On the Olympics, Parenting, and Our Identity

The Olympics are over now and I’m a bit aimless, wondering what I’m going to do with myself now that I don’t have a high intensity sporting event to watch every night of the week. My husband reminds me that college football is coming, but to me, it’s just not the same. The Olympics are my thing, as you probably already can tell.

Daniel likened my post-Olympics letdown to coming home from the high of church camp. We all had a good couple of weeks, watching with friends, texting about results, interacting on social media, and now we have to go back to real life, with real bedtimes, and even worse, a real election that is coming whether we like it or not.

The Olympics and all they brought with them were not real life, but they allowed us to forget real life for a moment. They allowed us to enter a world where the nations gather together, excellence is prized, and people finish and win the race. One former Olympian said it feels a little bit like heaven. Maybe it does, I don’t know. But I do know that while I am not alone in my post-Olympic hangover, it’s actually much harder, and much more serious for the athletes.

If Women Can't Have it All, Can Men?

If Women Can't Have it All, Can Men?

We talk a lot about whether or not women can have it all in our culture. Can a mom have a successful career and a thriving home life? Can she throw in volunteering, too? Even in our Christian subculture we might not talk as much about women having it all, but we have our own ways of continuing the having it all discussion even among stay-at-home moms. Can a mom homeschool, volunteer at church, keep a side business of selling essential oils, and successfully save hundreds a month by couponing? Is it possible? Can women have it all?

Others, both in Christian culture and the broader culture, have answered these questions for us with a resounding “no”. Something usually has to give when we are attempting to have it all or do it all. 

I’ve been thinking more about the whole “having it all” thing as I’ve watched the Olympics these past couple of weeks (I know. Another Olympics post. I just can’t help myself!). Often we frame the discussion as a female one, as if women are the only ones having to ask themselves whether the demands on their lives are more than are humanly possible. But I would argue that it’s actually a human dilemma, not just a female one. Men and women are both regularly confronted with the reality of their humanness when it comes up against their ambition, their capacity, or their season of life.