Hi Friends.

It’s been a while, eh?

This Dreamboat came into the world while I was gone:

Meet Nate Fisher. Born April 8th. 7 lbs, 1 oz. Also known as: Nate, Fisher, Little Fish, and my favorite so far, compliments of my nickname-loving father: Fish Stick.

Meet Nate Fisher. Born April 8th. 7 lbs, 1 oz. Goes by any of the following: Nate, Nate Fisher, Fisher, Little Fish, and my favorite so far, compliments of my nickname-loving father: Fish Stick.

I’ve been staring at him ever since.

He’s healthy, beautiful and makes my heart ever so happy. Sigh.

But, actually, he’s not the main reason I’ve been away for so darn long.

Remember those “allergies” I was fighting that I referred to in my last post several weeks ago? (You know, the one where I optimistically assumed I wouldn’t write again because I would probably have a baby in the next week? If only that had been the case.)

Instead, I spent those next two weeks before Nate was born in the miserable grip of sinus pressure, never-ending congestion, epic coughing spells, and wishes for death. Turns out, I had pneumonia.

We didn’t know this until last week. I was still sick, but Sweet Baby Nate’s exit from my body meant I could finally pursue some answers. A chest x-ray revealed the truth.

Unfortunately, though, in the pursuit of truth, we didn’t get to stop there. Abnormal levels on a round of labs—suggesting a blood clot in my lungs—sent me in for my first ever CT scan last Friday. Which, incidentally, reminded me of a miniature theme park ride, minus the squealing children and the funnel cakes, unfortunately.

Praise God, the scan both ruled out a blood clot and confirmed that the pneumonia appeared to be resolving. But (thank you, Hormones) I cried about 56 times in the process, and, I suspect, once we get the bill, I will cry some more.

The ride was most certainly not worth the price of admission.

~

Outside of Nate Fisher’s glorious (and speedy) arrival, it’s been rough going around here. 

I’ve never in my life been so sick for so long. I used to think I was the healthy type. I mean, who else gets pneumonia when they’re 38 weeks pregnant?

But I was helpless to change it.

Then that call from the doctor suggesting that it might even be worse than pneumonia. That the repercussions of an untreated blood clot could be a stroke. That I needed to go to the hospital right away.  That I didn’t even have time to prepare for the 24 hours following the scan when I was told I couldn’t nurse my newborn.

I was helpless.

And, to put it all into true perspective, in that same week following Nate’s birth, two families I know lost two precious babies just days apart.

Helpless.

And I hate feeling helpless.

~

They were four longs week of struggle. Why wasn’t God answering my prayers to heal me? I could hardly read the Bible. I kept turning to Psalms, but every chapter seemed to say the same thing: wait for the Lord.

But I didn’t want to wait any more. I wanted answers and healing and to stop feeling like garbage and to be able to nurse my babe without hacking in his beautiful face. 

I sent an e-mail to a dear friend several days ago. I told her how bizarre it was that all this was happening at once. The timing was ridiculous, I said.

But I was thinking about it later, and I realized something. I was wrong.

The timing wasn’t ridiculous. No.

It was actually perfect.

~

I love this picture. 1.) You can't see the bags under my eyes, and 2.) Has anyone ever looked so comfortable?

I love this picture because 1.) You can’t see the bags under my eyes, and 2.) Has anyone ever looked so comfortable?

 

I had turned to Psalm 25. It was like fresh water. 

“Good and upright is the Lord…” (vs. 8).

“All the ways of the Lord are loving and faithful…” (vs. 10).

If God is good and upright, then his plans for me are perfect.

If God is loving and faithful, then his decisions are perfect.

If God is perfect then even his most ridiculous timing is perfect. 

Hard to believe? Yes.

But true? Yes. 

~

Yes, it’s terrifying when we realize how not in control we are. Our lives are not our own. Our children’s lives are not our own. Our bodies are not our own. 

We are at the mercy of God, and that is truly frightening.

Unless we know who God is.

And unless we honestly believe it.

We are helpless here, friends.

It’s by God’s mercy alone that we woke this morning. That we are breathing right now. That we have jobs. And homes. And children. And moments of victory. And sweet salvation. God does not owe us any of this. But, yet, he gives to us. Constantly.

Because he is Good. He is Loving. His plans, his timing, his decisions are perfect.

We are helpless before him.  

And that is a good thing.