It’s usually between two and four in the morning here in the third trimester. I awake from a semi-sound sleep for a normal bathroom break; a reminder that she’s now growing heavy enough to contribute, in more ways than one, to the over-functioning of my urinary system. She’s usually awake at this time, sometimes with small pokes from within and sometimes with sharp jabs at the mattress’ apparent intrusion on her space. Already announcing personality. Already influencing change. 😉

I’m a bit more tired in the daytime these days, understandably so. And the exchange rate for comfort this last trimester is a bit in the lacking. I see them studying me. They are taking it all in.

See, they’re not toddlers anymore. It’s funny how quickly seven years can pass. And even nearly thirteen years of their inquisitive eyes. Always studying, learning and absorbing. Forming ideas, theories and world views that will impact many in ways we cannot even imagine today while their primary school hands still fit in ours. But it is an opportunity for a daily lesson in honesty. I cannot and should not paint a picture of a fairytale exchange rate. Pregnancy is not always gentle. But it is a sheer privilege to get to carry a child, even when the exchange rate feels less rewarding in the moment.

See, they’re forming opinions on value. On worth of investment. And I want to be sure to be beyond clear, leaving no doubting. They are worth every sciatic nerve firing. Every round ligament zinger. Every reflux discomfort. Every varicose vein burn in my right leg. They are worth the sore back, pleading for a heating pad. The sometimes swollen ankles and feet. The indigestion, immediate need for bathroom trips and internal assault on organs.

I am not hiding the stretch marks, ladies. You continue to reach out and trace them with your fingers on lotion days. They’re the story of you that is permanently left on my body. Some of them are deep and sometimes they are even a lovely shade of purple. I’m not hiding the stretched out skin. The interest in my deformed belly button’s transformations over the months. Your fingers following the scars’ road as you discover firsthand how scar tissue stretches to accommodate your little sister’s growth. The thick texture contrasting the softer skin. We both remember what caused those scars. And I wear them with gratitude to be alive. I don’t ever want to stop taking time to show you those scars, even when you won’t see them in worldly definition of beauty. They’re reminders to us all of the gift of another day of life. And I agree, ladies, that it’s really fascinating to watch those scars stretch out and change. There’s an opportunity we never thought possible for the scars to join the other deep stretch marks and the new ones made by your littlest sister.

You were worth it, ladies. Every stretch mark story. Every tough exchange rate symptom. And your little sister is worth it too. I’m thankful that we can keep having that conversation for the next three months of stretching. I hope you remember these conversations if ever you get the privilege of carrying your own pregnancy marks. And I pray you too find a husband who calls them “honor marks”. It really is an honor that I do not deserve. Here, even right now in the middle of this reflux, leg cramp and sleepless night I am beyond grateful.

How deep and lasting these marks have been, ladies. May we never be the same.

And I feel you wiggling in there, little one. It’s already just you and me here in the quiet dark while everyone else sleeps. The beginning of what I hope to be many a night of just you and me hanging out together. Oh sure, I am tired. And you are wide awake. And gratitude could never be stronger.

~ ~ ~

Thank You, Father, for another night of interruptions. Thank You, Father, for more deep stretch marks. Thank You, Father, for the symptoms that teach me to strive to suffer well. Thank You, for the four pairs of eyes studying me. Thank You for the imperfection they see in me. Please may it draw them to You as they watch my dependence on Your provision in this third trimester. Thank You, Father, for giving us the gift of this little one’s strong heartbeat that we can now hear with a stethoscope from the outside – her own rhythmic pattern that You have created and are sustaining with each beat. What could I ever do or be to deserve such an honor? Lord, it is all You. You overflow my cup. And I am in awe at how You have chosen to redeem. How You are redeeming what once looked bleak and still. You had my praise every passing day of silence, Father. Four years of the ask. Four years of willingly yielding to Your Sovereignty. Your plan and timing are best. Your complete Authority to shape our family’s lives in whatever way You see fit. You have all my trust, Father. And yet You chose to redeem. To bring about healing we didn’t know we needed in a way of deeper edification than we even knew possible. To stir a deeper praise from our lips that can only come from experienced loss. And even if it all went away tomorrow and we never got to meet this little one face to face, I still stand in gratitude to get to lose sleep tonight over symptoms coupled with her wiggling. Over the hope that we may get to hold her, Your gift to us, for a little while.

Thank You, Father, for the deep stretch marks that have shaped my life. I truly cherish every one. I am humbled at the honor.

Please receive all the glory, honor and praise that You are beyond due.

Amen.