As you will know, if you've been following my blog, we found out in August that we were pregnant. It has been such a crazy ride, and I have been struggling through most of it. The testimony I want to share today is about my pregnancy on some level, but really more about my own walk with Christ and will probably require some back story, which means this may get fairly long. 

  The first pertinent piece of back story is that this is my third pregnancy. Caleb and I lost our first baby, a little boy, at about 34 weeks. While that was a very difficult thing for us to go through, it in and of itself had many testimonies surrounding it, which I will have to share another time. That was five years ago. 

  So, fast forward to August. We find out we're pregnant and we are absolutely over the moon. I soon start feeling the effects of the pregnancy and I am sick all the time. After the initial shock and excitement of finding out we're pregnant started to wear off, I started to become a little more worried. I would worry that if it was a a little boy I wouldn't be able to handle it emotionally. The hurt from losing our baby is still a thing I struggle with on a frequent basis. I was worried that I wouldn't be able to process if we got to keep this boy and not our other one. I worried that I wouldn't be able to look at him with out being reminded of the hurt and loss we felt when his brother died. ...and that was only the beginning. I found myself eventually hoping that it was a girl. Olivia wanted a girl and we had all the clothes already, so a girl would just be easier, I decided. 

  A few days before we were supposed to find out, I had a craving for chips and salsa. I hadn't had any cravings so far this pregnancy, but when I was pregnant with our son, all I wanted to eat all the time was Mexican. Like, if he hadn't been born with a sombrero on his head holding maracas, I would have been floored. Now, Caleb thinks I'm crazy, but in that moment, the moment when nothing but chips and salsa would do, I knew that we were having a little boy. And suddenly, I wasn't as excited to find out what we were having anymore. I didn't know what to do. I let my worry take away from what should have been an exciting part of my pregnancy.

  A few days later, Caleb, Olivia and I were at the doctor's getting a sonogram. I held my breath and hoped against what I knew we were going to see. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe I was reading to much in to things. It could still be a girl. Please let it be a girl! Needless to say, it was not a girl. I handled the news only slightly better than Olivia, who started crying saying she wanted a girl and flat out refused (for weeks) to acknowledge that it was a boy.  I, on the other hand, managed to not cry and kept repeating my mantra "happy, healthy and whole" to myself, which is what Caleb and I have told people, when asked what we want. After losing the first one, it just seem so trivial to care about anything else. (Says the woman who was fighting back tears. I know, I know. I'm not proud of it.)

  If I thought I was worried before, I wasn't prepared for the amount of worry and anxiety that I would feel in the coming weeks.  I started to worry about everything. What if I just couldn't grow boys? What if we lost this one too? What if I let Caleb down again? What if I let our families down again? (Please understand that never once have they even hinted in anyway that they have felt let down or that I have failed them. It is just my own worries and guilt projecting on them) What would happen to Olivia if we lost the baby? Would she be okay? 

   I found myself having these thoughts fairly regularly. Most of the time I could push them away, knowing that they were ridiculous, unfounded fears. However, there were a couple times where they hit just at the wrong time and they were harder to dispel.

   One time in particular, we had gone to pick up a crib. While we were at the store, I asked Caleb if we could look around at the baby clothes. I hadn't bought anything for the baby yet, and I thought that maybe if I found some adorable little outfit for him that things would start to look a little brighter.  Unfortunately, we were looking in the dead of winter, so most of the stuff we saw was nothing that excited me too much. I finally found a couple onesies that I liked and was walking around with them in my hand. That's when I saw it. A little wool newsboy cap - just like the one I had bought for his brother. I lost it then. And I mean big, ugly cry in the middle of Babies 'R' Us lost it. I walked over to where Caleb had gone with Olivia (who was so over looking at baby clothes) and sat down with them. Caleb patiently held my hand and waited for me to calm down enough to tell him what was going on. 

   I told him that I didn't know that I could do it again. I didn't know if I could buy all the cute little boy clothes and wait and hope and day dream about seeing our baby in them, only to have to box them up and give them away, unused. I didn't want to have to do that. Caleb listened patiently, and then told me that we wouldn't have to do that again. While he meant well, it only made me more upset. I reminded him that nobody thought we'd have to do it the first time, either. And while I was able to stop crying, eventually, I felt along way from being consoled. 

   I went through the rest of that day okay, but still kind of sad and worried in the back of my mind. That evening while Caleb was putting Olivia to bed I was doing something in our room, I don't even remember what. Looking for a book maybe. When all of a sudden, a song that I remembered from my childhood, maybe, but that I hadn't heard in years started running through my head. The chorus goes like this:

          "One day at a time sweet Jesus that's all I'm asking from you
           Give me the strength to do everyday what I have to do
           Yesterday's gone sweet Jesus and tomorrow may never be mine
           So for my sake teach me to take one day at a time."
   
   As this song ran through my head, it hit me like a freight train. God needed me to trust Him. But more importantly, I didn't have to look at the big picture and worry about it and try and figure it out. God wanted me to come to him daily and trust Him to take care of my baby and to take care of me through out my pregnancy. Now, I know that this seems like Bible Basics or Christianity 101 maybe, but I have always struggled with trust. With needing to see the big picture, instead of just the next step. This song reminded me "trust" was a verb it was a thing that i needed to do. Daily. It reminded me that I wasn't in control, but more importantly that I wasn't alone. That there was Someone that wanted to help shoulder my load. To take my fears upon Himself so that I could be comforted. Someone who wanted to protect me and the sweet little boy I was carrying, but who also wanted me to ask for that protection. Who  wanted me to trust Him enough to admit that I was weak and that there was nothing I could do in my power alone to protect this baby I love so much, and reach out to Him because He can and then trust that He will.

   I felt at peace for the first time in my entire pregnancy. I was eager to share with someone, so I texted my mom. I told her how I loved that God can take something we barely remember and bring it to the forefront of our minds to give us exactly what we need when we need it. She, of course, was curious as to what I meant. So I told her that a song that I barely remembered from when I was little popped into my head and i proceeded to tell her what song, and what it had helped me see.

   She texted me back, and told me that what I had told her had made her a little emotional, and proceeded to tell me this:

          "That was a song actually that Grandpa sang. It's always been one that Gma and Gpa both knew. But after Gpa got sick with his cancer the first little bit and initially couldn't walk, he testified that that song came to him and gave him strength. He was walking again with the walker and such and from what I remember the dr told him he'd never be able to do that. He eventually got so sick he couldn't even use the walker, but that was always a theme song he sang to give him strength through his illness. Grandma then sang it a lot after grandpa died to also gain strength. You probably heard grandma sing it more than Gpa...if ever. But it was mostly sang after he got sick and gave him strength."

   My grandpa died when I was four. I don't have a lot of memories of him. I remember him making me laugh, I remember him being ornery as all get out, and probably most important, I remember how much he loved me and how special I felt whenever I was around him. It was because of those sweet memories that I had asked Caleb when we found out we were pregnant, that if it was a boy, we name him Crawford (my grandfather's name). He agreed, and it has been my one bright spot through out all my worry and anxiety. 

   Despite being one of the youngest grandkids, and being only four when he died, I always felt a strong connection to my Grandpa. Probably because I got told how often I had things in common with him, and I loved those things. I cherished them. I realize now though the thing I have the most to cherish from him, is a thing I didn't even realize he had given me: an example of faith in Jesus Christ to the very end. It's now my prayer that I can be like him in that way. That I can pass on the legacy of faith that both he (and my Grandma) lived out to my son, and that he can grow up to have a faith like the man he was named after.

   This pregnancy has been such a crazy ride, but I am so grateful that I was able to learn this lesson. That I was able to be reminded of just how much my Savior wants to help me, and how I don't need to be afraid to ask Him for help or to tell him my concerns. And I love that He did it in a way that would be meaningful to me, connecting two people that I love dearly together. I can't wait to meet my sweet boy and hold him in my arms and tell him all about the things the he and great grandpa taught me. 




    

                           Baby Crawford smiling at his last sonogram

My Grandpa Crawford, holding me (in the red) and my cousin on his lap. 

     It has been far too long since I've written anything. There are so many things that God has done for me that I haven't had the opportunity to share with you, so I'm going to take the opportunity to play a little catch up now. This will probably make for a super long post, but bear with me- it will be worth it. 

     The first testimony I want to share is just a quick one about Cooper. I think I've mentioned my rascally, but lovable pooch on here before. But in case I'm remembering in correctly or in case this is your first time here, let me tell you a little bit about Cooper. We got Cooper as a rescue puppy from our local shelter the month before we got married. He's part husky and all mischief. I think within the first couple months we quickly realized he gets super traumatized whenever we try and contain him. We've had him escape from plastic dog carries (chewed his way out), metal dog crates (bent the metal on the bottom of the door enough to get out), our work room (clawed and chewed through a 2 in. solid core door), our work room again (clawed through the replacement solid core door which we had reinforced with a piece of sheet metal). Cooper does not like being cooped up. The other thing we quickly learned is that Cooper loves to run. And given that nothing seems to be able to contain him, he is able to escape pretty easily when he wants too. He is an opportunist and never misses a chance to get out when he wants to. Just recently Cooper started acting up a bit. He started clawing at our basement door to get down to where my mom is staying. He started standing by the front windows just whining. I could tell he was itching to get out again. I tried keeping him outside a little longer than usual, letting him play and run a little longer, hoping it would help quench his desire to escape. Needless to say, it did not and one day a couple weeks ago, I heard him pawing at the front windows. It took a little too long to dawn on me what he was doing, and even longer to remember that the windows were  open. 

     By the time I got out to the front room, he was gone. He had clawed a hole through the screen and jumped out the window. I was home alone with O, so I quickly got her in a jacket, grabbed a leash and a treat and ran out to the car to try and find Cooper. I explained to O that Cooper ran away and that I would roll down her window and let her call to him. O, being three, thought this was all great fun. I, however, was less convinced. As we were getting ready to pull out of our driveway, I notice one of the neighbor kids approaching our van. He asked me if that was our dog that was out. I replied that it was. He told me that he and his mom had tried to catch him, but that he had ended up running from them and gave me the direction he went. I thanked him profusely, since knowing which direction he went is half the battle, and continued to pull out of the driveway.

      Before I even finished backing out, O turns to me and says, "Mama, did Cooper get out?" "Yes, baby, we're gonna go look for him though." "We didn't say a prayer." I stopped backing up and turned around and looked at her, grateful for this tiny little person who is constantly reminding me of what's really important in life. "You're right, sweets, we didn't. Would you say one please? Ask God that we will find Cooper soon and that He will keep Cooper safe." (It's my biggest fear that Cooper's going to get out one of these days and run straight into traffic and get hit.) So Olivia began to pray and I began to drive in the direction that the Neighbor Boy had indicated. Sure enough, before O had even finished her prayer, I heard the jingle of Cooper's tags. As soon as she said "Amen" I pulled over to get out and get him, but as it turns out that was unnecessary. I pulled over and opened the door and he hopped right in. I didn't have to chase him, I didn't have to coax him with the treat, he just jumped right in the car. It was by far the easiest time I have ever had chasing Cooper down, and I know that it was because of that sweet little girl who had reminded me that we needed to stop and pray. 



     The next testimony is a little longer and a little more personal. I mentioned last September about some issues I was having with ovulating on my own. The issues resolved for awhile and then for whatever reason, I began to have troubles ovulating on my own again. Unfortunately, the doctor I had been seeing moved to a different state, so I had to start all over with a new doctor. I hate getting new doctors. So, I put it off for awhile, and eventually, around July I bit the bullet, chose a new doctor and went in for my yearly woman's visit. 

     At my visit, I expressed my concerns to the doctor and he pretty much said what my other doctor did. He couldn't really understand why that would be happening and, yay, ordered more blood work. He told me to come in on the 21 day of my cycle for the blood work, which would let us know whether or not I ovulated, and then if I hadn't started by cycle day 35 to come in and see him, because I would need to be put on meds to, at the very least, start my cycle and most likely, fertility meds. 

     As day 35 got closer and closer, I got more and more worried that I would have to take fertility meds. I couldn't explain why I didn't want to take them and had never had such a strong aversion to taking medicine before in my life. All I knew is it was not a thing I was looking forward to. Caleb, bless his heart, knew this and offered to go with me to my appointment. Day 35 rolled around and we went to the Doctor. I was a mess. My stomach was roiling, I was sure that I was going to have to take the meds. We got called back to see the doctor, I left my urine sample with the nurse, and we began the wait to see the doctor. 

     About ten minutes later, the nurse came back in. She started taking my vitals and making small talk. As she was recording my heart rate and blood pressure, she looks at me and asks, "And you already took the Clomid, right?" I looked at her and shook my head.  "No, that's why we were supposed to come in today. The Doctor said we'd discuss it today." She smiled and held something out to me. "I misunderstood. I thought you had already taken the Clomid, so I did this." I looked at what she was handing me and realization dawned. I was speechless as I handed the positive pregnancy test to Caleb. "I'll give you all a moment to process this," the nurse said and stepped out of the room. Needless to say, there were lots of tears and hugs  and prayers of thanksgiving said in that doctor's office.

     I look back on it all, and I am so grateful for the journey we took to get where we are today. I have learned so much. I learned compassion and empathy for those women that desperately want babies and struggle so much to have one, I learned patience, and I learned (most days) to let what I had be enough, to be content with the blessings God had given and not be sad and depressed because I felt like they weren't enough. And I'm even grateful for the struggles we had, because if I hadn't been having problems with my cycle, if fertility meds hadn't been imminent, Caleb wouldn't have been there when I found out I was pregnant, and I can't think of a more perfect way for us to have found out than as a family. O is over the moon and waiting for baby to get here. She's convinced the baby is a girl and already calls her Sissy. Here's hoping she's not heart broken if the baby comes and it's a boy. ;) 


      Now, finally, an announcement. If you've stuck with me this far, bless you. You're a trooper. I promise it's not much longer now. 

      When I was a little girl, my grandma crocheted beautiful afghans for all her grandkids. She let us pick out the yarn ourselves. I remember going to the store with her and feeling so special as I perused the rows and rows of beautifully colored yarns. After I picked my yarn, I remember being so amazed watching her as she took this yarn and turned it into a blanket. It was magical. One day, I asked her if she would teach me. She did, and I fell in love. Over time however, I became so busy with school and sports that my crocheting fell by the wayside. A few years ago, with the help of youtube, I rekindled my love of crochet. I loved crocheting out at my grandma's house, though she had long since stopped crocheting and now that she has passed, it's something that helps ease the loneliness a bit when I miss her. 

     I have thought for awhile, that I might want to start selling some of the things that I make. I just always came up with a good excuse not to do it. However, a couple months ago, I decided it was time. No more stalling, no more excuses. So, on that note, I invite you to check out my Etsy shop, BethelBoutique, which you can visit by clicking the Bethel Boutique tab above. It will open the link to my shop in another tab. Right now, the pickin's are kinda slim, but I'm planning on adding more items in the next couple weeks or so. I'm also hoping to find a way to sell directly through the website, so keep your eyes open for that as well. If you have questions about the items I sell, or would like to talk to me about ordering something please email my business at bethelboutique15@gmail.com.

Whew! You made it! This is finally the end. Thank you again for reading!    

     Some time during the week before the Super Bowl, Caleb told me about a conversation that he had with one of his coworkers. 
     Every year, this coworker and his family play Super Bowl bingo to keep his wife and daughters entertained during the game. Knowing that I am not the biggest fan of football, Caleb suggested that we do the same thing, and that there be prizes for the winner(s). 
     So I created four bingo cards, two for each of us, and made a list of about 47 football and commercial related things that we could put on the cards. Caleb was tasked with coming up with prizes. In retrospect, perhaps it should have been the other way around, since in the end most of the squares ended up being commercial related rather than football related, but hey, isn't that really what the Super Bowl is all about? :) 
     I had a lot of fun playing Super Bowl bingo. It made the game go by very quickly and Caleb and I always love playing games. In the end, Caleb had the first bingo so he won the first place prize (choosing a game to play together) and I had the second and third place prizes (choosing a restaurant to eat at, and choosing a movie to watch) and I can't wait to cash in my prizes! 

     For Valentine's day this year, I decided to do "Fourteen days of Caleb". Basically, it's fourteen days of little gifts, special notes in his laptop bag, and all of his favorite delicious dinners. 
     Knowing that the Super Bowl was coming up, I kicked things off with a gift certificate for a "Super Bowl Snuggle". 

     I'm not a huge fan of watching football. It's alright, but definitely not one of my favorite things to do. However, I know that Caleb really likes to watch football, so I figured watching football with him would be a way that I could show him I loved him without having to spend much money or getting him a gift. 
     The actual certificate entitles him to watching the Super Bowl (with me, of course) and to his choice of any of the listed snacks or any other snacks that he wanted. Caleb thought this was awesome and says that this is his favorite part of "Fourteen Days of Caleb"  (even though we are only four days in).  I'm glad "Fourteen Days of Caleb" is off to such a great start! 

     For as long as I can remember, every Sunday night my family had "Snack Night".  Sometimes, it would be something like bean dip and tortilla chips.  More frequently though, it would be air-popped popcorn, apples and crackers with cheese. 
     As an adult, I have carried on this tradition within my own family. There's not much that I enjoy more than curling up on a Sunday night with a big bowl of air-popped popcorn, especially on a windy, chilly night like tonight. 
     A couple of weeks ago when I was in the store, I picked up a couple of popcorn toppings. Tonight felt like a good night to try them out. Our air popper met with an unfortunate incident several months ago, so I had to pop it on the stove. I had never popped it this was before and actually really enjoyed doing so. 
     After the popcorn was all popped, I divided it up into five bowls. I topped two with the commercial popcorn toppings I had purchased (bacon cheddar and chocolate carmel), two with toppings I had made myself (parmesan garlic and cinnamon sugar) and I topped the final one with our go to salt and butter, just in case we didn't dig any of the flavors we were trying. I'm not sure why I was worried-- Hubby will eat just about anything! 
     It turned out that we enjoyed all the flavors we tried. My husband, in particular, loved the two toppings I created, so I thought I would share them with you. 

                                 PARMESAN-GARLIC POPCORN TOPPING
                                         1/4 C. Grated Parmesan Cheese
                                                           1 T. Garlic Salt
                                      Combine both ingredients in a bowl. 
                                                   Sprinkle onto popcorn.

                                             CINNAMON SUGAR TOPPING 
                                                    3:1 Sugar to Cinnamon 
                                                 (3 T. Sugar  1 T. Cinnamon)
                                                       Combine in a bowl. 
                                                    Sprinkle onto popcorn. 
                                                       (Or toast. Or cereal.)
     
     There you have it. Easy-peasy and SUPER delicious. I hope you enjoy it as much as we did. I am definitely looking forward to inventing and trying many more flavors.