How will you spend your Saturday?

I apologize for having gone so long without posting, it's been a little crazy around here, with babies being due next month and such.  I had the honor of preaching my first sermon last Sunday at our church in honor of Marsha Stearns Marshall Month of Preaching. (And no, I'm not getting into the whole should women or shouldn't they argument right now. Study it for yourself and form your own opinion.)  There's nothing like preaching for the first time at 8 months pregnant.  Just to add to the hilarity, here's a picture:

 

I promise I am wearing shoes, they're just nearly invisible for some reason...

If you would like to hear the words that go along with the picture, you can hear the sermon here.

Anyway, as you can probably tell from the purple in the picture, our church follows the Christian year and the lectionary.  This is the season of Lent.  For those of you unfamiliar with it, it's a period of 40 days of "fasting", with each Sunday counted as a "mini Easter" or a feast day.  It begins with Ash Wednesday and finishes with Easter, with Palm Sunday, Maundy Thursday, & Good Friday sandwiched in the middle.

In our Wednesday night studies, we've been reading through a really interesting book by John Ortberg:

You can find it at: http://www.amazon.com/Who-This-Man-Unpredictable-Inescapable/dp/0310275946

He really goes into a lot of the historical impact that Jesus has had over the last 2000 years, it's more than just a theological commentary, it's really a great book for anyone who as any interest in who Jesus was.  Last night, we covered our last study which is called "Friday...Saturday....Sunday".  Now being in the middle of Lent, it only took me a second to guess what he was referring to - can you guess?  Good Friday, Good/Black Saturday, Easter Sunday.  He goes into detail about what happened on each of these days and many of the interesting things we often skip over.  He talks about what may have happened if Jesus did choose to call down legions of angels, or to fight along with his disciples, etc and how Jesus chose the best thing for everyone - except himself.  Any of the other choices would have most likely included the death of countless others, only to spare himself.  I had never thought about it that way.  It seems to me, we often make Jesus into this victim and if he had just done this or that, he could've been spared.  But Jesus was not a victim - read John 10, he chose to lay His life down and had the authority to pick it back up.  Jesus could've been a hero.  He could've gone down in history as the man who conquered Rome.  But Jesus chose the road less traveled.  Everyone wants to be a hero and these days, it's fairly easy to be a considered a hero.  You know what's really hard?  Being a servant.  Making the choice that hurts you but benefits everyone else.  Ouch.

So that's Friday, let's skip over to Sunday.  Easter Sunday, we all love it.  Pretty dresses, fancy ties, lots of candy, bunnies and eggs, it's just fun.  It's the day of hope and we really like hope.  Jesus first appeared to the women, sent them to tell the men, and really just went about scaring the daylights out of people.  Apparently, the disciples had a hard time remembering that Jesus told them that this is what would happen.  Dr. Ortberg points out that Jesus first words out of the tomb were remarkably unimpressive. They were equivalent to today's phrase, "Hey, how y'all doing?"  In others words, "Why are you so surprised? I told you this would happen!"

So Friday is painful and Sunday is joyful - where does that leave Saturday?  You know, I had never thought about it until after I went to my first Good Friday service.  At the end of the service, they extinguished the Christ candle, turned off all the lights, and we left in darkness and silence.

And then we waited.

It began to occur to me how real  this all was. 2013 or so years ago, this actually happened to real people just like you and me.  Can you imagine how the disciples felt on Saturday?  Their hope was gone.  Everything - gone.  Dr. Ortberg brings up something I'd never thought about:  That Saturday was the only day in history that no one believed Jesus was alive.  Wow.  You mean there was a day that Jesus wasn't alive??  Why hadn't this occurred to me before?

Death gave way to silence.  God was silent.  He left space for waiting, wondering, grieving, and separation, even in the death of his own son.  He could have spared him, but he didn't.  Jesus could have saved himself, but he didn't.  And so we wait.

But God didn't stop there.  Death gave way to silence and silence gave way to hope.  Jesus had every chance to take over and prove his power.  He could've taken over the government and freed Jerusalem.  He could've reigned forever over the earth.  But he didn't do all those things, he chose to love and respect God the Father and then to love and serve his neighbors.  He gave up all of himself for those he loved and for those who would never love him.  "Father, forgive them, for they don't know what they're doing."  Does that sound like an angry, vengeful Savior to you?

This past Sunday, after I was done, we got to enjoy a solo by a very special woman named Jodi.  Jodi is our music minister's daughter and about 2 years ago, she was diagnosed with a horrible, inoperable, malignant brain tumor and told she didn't have much longer to live.  Two years later, she is cancer free and the doctors have no idea why.  The song she chose to sing was "In Christ Alone".  I had heard the song before, but hearing it from her had an incredible impact on me.  The one phrase of the song that stuck out to me this time was this one:

"And on the cross as Jesus died, the wrath of God was satisfied."

Now some disagree with the wording there, but I think we can all agree on the idea.  Through Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, we were justified in God's eyes by the blood of Jesus.  Wow.

There's a joke video called Djesus Uncrossed, a spoof on Django Unchained, and it features Jesus, after the crucifixion, coming back to take down those who made him suffer.  It's disturbing and laughable all at the same time.  What bothers me (and others) is that there are many people who seem to think this is what is going to happen in the end times when Jesus comes back.  Even Jerry Jenkins once said that the amount of people that take the Left Behind books as gospel truth is disturbing to him.  Now, I don't claim to understand everything (or even half) of what is spoken about in Revelation, but it certainly bothers me that most of us spend our time trying to interpret these symbolic things into things that will literally happen and trying to make sense of all this stuff, often completely ignoring the first part of the book where Jesus starts removing the lamp stands of churches for not doing what he told us to do.  Shouldn't we be more concerned with that?  Jesus told us that not even he knew the day or the time, so shouldn't we be focusing on doing what he told us to do, like loving our neighbor and being servants?  That is how we remain watchful, vigilant, faithful until the coming of Christ. 

Folks, we live in the "Saturday".  Friday has happened, Jesus lived, died, and was resurrected.  The ultimate Sunday is still to come, no one knows when or how.  Right now, we are in the Saturday, we're waiting, wondering, grieving, overwhelmed with the silence.  Sometimes we just can't take it anymore and in our desperation and anxiety we start searching and reading until we finally come up with our own answer and we experience this relief that we don't have to wait on God anymore.  But that is not how God designed it. All the worrying and wondering in the world will not make Sunday come any faster.  You cannot get to Sunday without first waiting through Saturday.

So I ask you this: how will you spend your Saturday?

Experiencing faith.

"Faith is the art of holding onto things in spite of your changing moods and circumstances." - C.S. Lewis

Boy, have I learned that the hard way throughout this pregnancy.  I'm still in a giant learning curve with this whole diet thing, but I have started learning a few things about myself.

During Lent, I decided at first that I would be really good Monday - Saturday with my diet and testing and then allow myself to enjoy a "feast" day on Sundays (I had been told by my OB office that I didn't have to be so strict now that I had proven I could keep my numbers under control). Now, I'm not stupid, so I didn't go overboard, but I did have more refined sugar than I normally do on this new diet. I still checked my levels and they were within range, which brings me to my next point: I am now totally convinced that refined sugar is closely related to poison. It's a proven addiction:  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sugar_addiction

Why do I think this?  I'll tell you. As to be expected, I went through detox again yesterday (Monday).  I. Felt. Awful.  The exhaustion was back.  The bone dragging fatigue was back.  The depression and anxiety were back.  I really did feel poisoned, I could hardly get out of bed all day.  But, true to my decision, I spent yesterday sticking strictly to my diet, all good carbs and lots of protein and fiber.  And guess what!  I woke up this morning feeling incredible. Coincidence? I think not.

The hardest thing, for me, about this diet and diagnosis is being told "No."  "No, you can't eat that.  No, you can't drink that.  No, you can't skip meals.  No, you can't carry until 41 or 42 weeks."  No, no, no.  And like any good toddler, I mean human, I don't like being told "No".  I tend to get all stubborn and huffy and decide I'm going to do it anyway because they don't know me!  Except, they do, because I'm human, like every other woman they see, and when you eat crap, you feel like crap, and your body doesn't work like it should.  I've come to realize that in food talk, "refined" simply means "removed anything healthy to extend shelf life and make it taste better to our sugar obsessed culture."  It means it's cheaper for everyone, the producer and the consumer, so more money ends up in our pockets and we like that.

I think as Christians, sometimes we make food into an idol.  We often don't participate in "worldly things" like drugs, rock music, alcohol, meaningless sex, etc, so we use food as our "outlet", our stress relief.  Go to any good Baptist potluck and you will find every sort of comfort food you could imagine - and that's not even getting started on the dessert table.  We do live in America, after all, so we do everything in excess simply because we can - and food is no different.  There are countless TV shows about food.  We have a network on cable that's all about food and another that's all about cooking. Our parties and vacations are centered around the table and what we're going to eat.

One of the key focuses of Lent is a sense of unity with other Christians around the world and from the past.  This got me to thinking about what my brothers and sisters outside the US eat on a daily basis.  Instead of spilling a bunch of statistics here, I encourage you to research it for yourself.  Go ahead, I'll wait.

Staggering, isn't it?

A lot of churches focus on missions during Lent, leading up to Easter, and our church is no different. This also got me to thinking.  (I think a lot.)  Instead of focusing so much on what I can't have and my "feast day" that I think I "deserve", why don't I use this diet as a chance to share some solidarity with my global family in Christ and eat the way they eat?  Why don't I get myself out of my spoiled American mentality and go without for a little while - and risk having it actually change my life?  I've heard many people return from mission trips and say "I went because I wanted to change them - but instead they changed me."  A friend of mine was on a mission trip in Africa and she had the chance to meet the child that her own family had sponsored through Compassion ministries for years.  When she arrived, the family welcomed her ecstatically.  They showed her how they had saved every book mark and picture that her family had sent over the years.  When it came time to eat, they had prepared a huge feast for her.  She later told her mom that from looking at their house, kitchen, and their food supply, she was sure they had used almost everything they had just to make her feel welcome and to show their gratitude for the help her family had provided over the past several years. They went without because they were grateful.  Hmmm, makes me think twice about Thanksgiving dinner.

We have this idea that going without something we really want is this awful thing.  It's counter cultural to us. Look at the debt we've built up as individuals and a country.  We simply can't tell ourselves no.  We don't have to.  Got too much debt?  Just file bankruptcy, print more money, or raise the debt ceiling.  Not enough money left until the next check?  Get a payday loan or buy a lottery ticket .  It's easy.

This is why self-control is such an important fruit of the Spirit.  Our culture will never teach us self-control, but if we let God in, he will.  You don't even have to travel to Africa, you can start in your own home. He will not just give it to you, he will teach it to you.  Are you willing to give it a try?  What's an area in your life that you can use a little more self-control?

The perfect picture.

I have a very non-Baptist, non-American confession to make:

My favorite holiday is not Christmas, it's Easter.

My favorite journey in the Christian year is Lent, not Advent.

To those of you who are not familiar with these terms, Advent is the season of waiting that leads to Christmas.  Lent is the season of reflection that leads to Easter.  Now, it's understandable that any pastor's wife who is also a mom may not particularly enjoy every part of Advent and the Christmas season, it's so busy, you don't get to see your husband a lot, you rarely get to see your family, it's stressful - but why on earth, you may be asking yourself, would I prefer Lent?  Lent is hard, too.  It's sad.  You give up something you really enjoy.  You sit through a Black Friday service and leave in total darkness after the Christ candle has been extinguished.  And you wait, as the disciples did, until Easter.  How is this more fun than snowmen and Santa and presents and baby Jesus?

Well, I don't enjoy it because it's fun, I enjoy it because I feel that it more deeply connects me with God.  Concentrating only on the negative gets us no where - we must ask ourselves, where does the pain lead?  We choose to give something up so that every time we crave it, we're reminded of God's sacrifice and it leads us closer to God.  On Sundays, or feast days, we get to enjoy our "forbidden fruit" and it makes it taste just a little bit sweeter.  We choose to sit through Black Friday so that we can experience the pain and the grief the disciples must have felt.  We sit through it because it reminds us of the incredible sacrifice that Jesus made on our behalf.  It reminds us that real prayer produces drops of blood mixed with sweat. We sit through it and then we wait until Easter.  The experience of that grief makes the hope we find on Easter morning just a little bit brighter.

I've come to realize that I have a unique opportunity this year.  My due date is Easter Sunday.  Being in the third trimester of a hard pregnancy introduces a new understanding of pain, fatigue, and sheer will power.  I have given up much for the sake of the child I'm carrying.  In fact, I had a hard time coming up with anything to give up for Lent since most of the things I enjoy I was forced to give up months ago.  At first, I wanted to do nothing but complain and cry and wallow in my self pity.  It just feels so good, sometimes, doesn't it?  But I soon came to realize that if I couldn't just stop there.  If I did, how would I truly encounter God?  I've said a lot that God accepts us as we are, but he doesn't just leave us there.  But he doesn't force himself on us either.

Throughout this pregnancy, I decided I would "take charge".  There were too many unknowns, too many "I should have's" in my pregnancy and delivery with Karis and I was determined not to let that happen this time.  The further along I've gotten, the more that control has been ripped out of my hands.  "Why, God, why???  Why is this happening???" I asked.  You know the answer I got?  "Because you asked for it."

Hold up, God, say what?  And then I realized, I did ask for it.  You see, the main thing I pray for, above all else, is that God would transform my heart to look more like Jesus.  That I would seek holiness and humility over everything else.  It's a good thing to pray, right?  More than that (gulp) I prayed that God would be glorified through this whole experience.  The problem with honestly praying things like this is that God actually answers those prayers.  

Could it be that, besides a beautiful child at the end, God intended this pregnancy for more than procreation, that maybe he intended it to teach me more about him?  Could it be for a purpose that the hardest part of this pregnancy directly coincides with Lent?  Could it be for a reason that the joy of Easter - which is new life in Christ - will also mean the joy of a physical new life for our family?

I don't know the actual answers for these questions but I will tell you that I do not believe in coincidences.  I do, however, feel that I am in the midst of God through this journey.  I can feel him strengthening me, carrying me, helping me to keep walking, even when all I want to do is give up.  I'm in the middle of God writing my story.  I've had to give up my picture of the perfect pregnancy and birth.  Man, that was hard.  A friend of mine and I were discussing this just yesterday - often our own mental pictures of what life or a person is "supposed" to look like are not only completely inaccurate, but commonly get in the way of our ability to listen to and follow God.  I got to thinking about that.  It makes sense, we have no pictures of Jesus.  We have no idea what he or any of the disciples or prophets looked like.  If pictures were all that important, don't you think God would've left us one?  So what do we have?  We have stories.  That's what the Bible is.  I've always hated the old phrase that Bible means "Basic Instructions Before Leaving Earth".  Not that the Bible doesn't teach us the right way to live, it certainly does, but it is far more than a book of rules.  If it were just a book of rules, it would be about as popular as Robert's Rules of Order.  The word Bible comes from the Greek τὰ βιβλία or tà biblía, literally meaning "the books".  What do we associate with books?  Rules?  Rarely.  Stories? Most definitely.

I've come to realize, in my own life, that I had this "picture" of what a Christian looked like.  Clean cut, carrying a Bible, handing out tracts or pamphlets, always smiling.  It has crippled me through the years.  Anyone I encountered that didn't fit my "picture" was automatically regarded with suspicion, which resulted in judgement upon their hearts.  What did Jesus have to say about that?  "In the way you judge others, so you will be judged."  Ouch.  Do I really want someone that encounters me to automatically assume that I don't have a relationship with God based on my appearance?  What if I'm having a bad day and I'm not acting very nice - do I want them to assume I'm not a Christian because of that?  No, I don't, so maybe I should stop doing that to others.  Thank God for forgiveness and a million chances to get it right.  Even the apostle Paul said that he constantly did the things he didn't want to do and found himself not doing the things he did want to do, so even basing those assumptions off of someone's behavior isn't any better.  We truly never know the heart of another person.

So here's my question to you:  What picture is God trying to get rid of in your life?  What journey is he ready to lead you on?  Are you ready to ask those questions of God and of yourself?  When we start praying in honesty and earnestness, God is ready and willing to answer.  What will your answer be?

God bless.

Sunday Morning Musings

We know from the parables and the sermon on the mount that Jesus came to bring the Kingdom of God to earth and to make it available to everyone. He paid the ultimate price. Think of it like going through the line up to the ticket window of your favorite NFL team and finding out someone already bought you the best seats in the house. And the great thing is, this person also did the same for the mayor of the city...and all the homeless people outside the stadium...and the ticket scalpers. Everyone has tickets to the best seats in the house. So my question is this: When will the church stop imposing their heavy, rule-laden, Scripturally "justified", legalistic burdens on their neighbors and trying to make Christianity an "exclusive" club? When we will learn to trust the Spirit to lead people instead of blaming him for our own opinions? The only truly "harsh" words Jesus had to say were aimed directly at the church leaders of his day who claimed that anyone who didn't follow their rules had no place in the Kingdom of God - and that God told them that it was supposed to be like that. Jesus told them that it was THEY who had no place there because they had completely missed the point. The very being of God was standing right in front of them and they could not see it. If you claim to know God, shouldn't you recognize him - even when it's unexpected?

The point the Pharisees were missing is love. Not conditional "I love you because you're just like me", because that is NOT love. Love LOVES because we have first been loved. It spills over onto everyone around us. It is not proud, it does not boast, or envy, or keep a record of wrongs. It it not easily offended but hopes and believes the best about everyone. It grieves with real tears and broken-heartedness with and over those who are broken and lost and hurting. We all know the shortest verse in Bible, "Jesus wept." Do you know who and what he wept for? Do you know what made Jesus cry? Don't take my word for it, go read it.

I'm asking you, church of God. I'm asking me. When are we going to stop hating each other and everyone who isn't just like us and start loving people like we have something to be joyful about? Did Jesus discriminate against people because of race or sexual orientation? How about because of status or money? What about those struggling with addiction? The spiritual abuse we as the church have inflicted on hurting people, regardless of the reason, is inexcusable. Luckily, it is forgivable and we can repent. Yes, I said WE, not they, need to repent because without there first being genuine, burden-sharing love, there would be no repentance from anyone. It is not guilt, or fear, or exclusivity that draws people to Christ, it is his love, embodied in the Spirit and in his people.

The wise words of John the Baptist told the crowds, "Repent, for the Kingdom of God is at hand!" But he wasn't just talking to the "unsaved" - he was talking to the church as well. Repent, church, because the best seats in the house are for everyone, whether you have deemed them "worthy" or not.

Gestational Diabetes Journey

(Warning:  This blog post contains some pretty honest words about dealing with depression and the thoughts that come along with that.  It was hard to write and it may be hard to read, but I hope that somehow, some way, it might help someone else in their own struggle.)

Kolaches - the diabetic's nightmare.

 The look of shock on the phlebotomist's face could only mean one thing.  I'd failed the test.  Sure enough, blood sugar was 210.  "Let me try that one more time", she said, "Let's hope that wasn't right."  She tried again, and the number changed to 206.

Sigh.

It wasn't my first clue that I could be dealing with gestational diabetes.  I had been craving sugar like crazy the past few weeks.  I even ate 4 pieces of pound cake in one sitting.  If you know me, you know I don't normally eat like that.  It was just like my body couldn't get enough.  So it wasn't much of a surprise that I failed the one hour glucose test.  They scheduled me to come in a week later and take the 3 hour.  "Don't worry", they said, "Lots of women fail the one hour test and don't have a problem."  I repeated this mantra to myself over the next few days, but there was this little voice in the back of my head the whole time saying "Well, you have been really tired and you have had several bladder infections....", both of which are signs of GD.  But I didn't have hardly any risk factors, the only ones that fit me at all were being over 25 and having Native American heritage.  I had hardly any of the symptoms, having only gained about 12 lbs by 31 weeks of pregnancy.  But regardless, there were the numbers, in black and white.

They led me to an exam room and my favorite midwife came in, Brenna, and we spent most of the time talking about our kids, and eventually got around to the diet and tracking blood sugar.  She didn't seem worried, so I tried to convince myself it was no big deal.  On the way home, I sent Kevin a message telling him the diagnosis, and then stopped by the church to see him.  He sat with me, listened to everything I had to say, then offered to go grocery shopping with me. (I know, isn't he a sweet heart?)  It wasn't until my first couple of times actually testing my numbers and having to conform to the diet that the gravity of the situation really hit me.  From the information I was reading, I got the strong vibe that if I messed this up, I could hurt myself and my child and I would be the only one to blame.  I could lose my dream of a natural childbirth and face my fear of being induced again.  That was when the tears and the depression came.

"Why are you so upset about this?  It's just gestational diabetes, it will be over in a few weeks," was something I heard from several people.  "Yeah, easy for you to say, it's not happening to you", I thought.  Why did I feel so angry, so hopeless?  Well, a few reasons. For one thing, I felt so betrayed by my own body.  I felt so out of control.  I felt like a huge failure as a mother.  The pregnancy itself was an unexpected and not all that welcome situation to begin with and I was already having trouble coming to terms with having another child that I wasn't sure I could handle.  It wasn't necessarily that my child was unwanted, but the whole situation of pregnancy, labor, and delivery that led up that child - that part of it was very deeply unwanted.  One of the only things that helped me cope in the beginning was that I could really enjoy food once the baby started gaining weight - and that too had been taken from me.  I'd suffered a miscarriage already and was terrified of suffering another one.  Friends had recently lost not one, but two of their children, in a very short time frame.  I suffered from prenatal depression and severe morning sickness that lasted all 9 months with my oldest child. It was just overwhelming, to say the least.  During the second trimester, through a lot of prayer and therapy, I had seemingly come to terms with this pregnancy and was even excited about it.  Then the third trimester hit and suddenly I remembered everything I'd tried so hard to push out of my mind. After my diagnosis, I found myself sitting on the floor, sobbing uncontrollably, unsure if I really could handle the stress.  I thought about checking myself into the hospital because I didn't know what else to do, I literally felt like I couldn't continue existing as I was.  If you've never been there - let me tell you - that is a very very scary place to be in.  If you have been there and feel like you're there now, please please reach out to someone and tell them how you're feeling.  I felt so completely, utterly alone.  I was afraid of scaring my still-sleeping daughter, and since it was Sunday morning, Kevin had already left for the church and is usually unreachable because of the demands of his job.  I already had a text message conversation going with a close friend and she had offered to come help me get everything ready for church.  I wrote back that I wasn't sure church was an option at this point and told her what I was feeling.  Fifteen minutes later, she showed up on my doorstep, with a waiting hug and prayed over me as I cried.

I felt such release in that moment.  I still felt sad and angry and overwhelmed, but I didn't feel alone anymore. I listened to her wise words and took her advice:  "Let's focus on the here and now.  Right now, we can't control your diagnosis, we can't make it go away. What can we do?  We can get you and Karis ready for church."  She was right.  I knew that what I wanted to do most, withdraw into my cocoon of sadness, was the last thing I really needed to do.  I know the church as a whole is broken and undervalued today, but our church is different.  They are my family.  They love me and I love them.  We show up because we need each other and others in our community need us.  So, we got ready.  I found something that still fit and was fairly "churchy" looking, Janis got Karis dressed and ready to go, and we left. 

I will never forget the outpouring of love that day.  I walked into orchestra rehearsal at the church and exclaimed, "I'm here!!!!", raising my French Horn over my head in triumph.  (Since I'm carrying this baby so low, it hasn't affected my breathing, so luckily, I'm still able to play.)  I was greeted by smiles and sincere questions of "How are you?"  Instead of conforming to the old rule of not letting anyone under the facade, I told them the truth.  "I've got gestational diabetes and it's awful.  I've really been struggling with depression and didn't know if I was going to make it this morning."  They nodded in understanding and encouragement, not in the least shocked that their pastor's wife would admit to struggling with depression.  They shared with me others they knew that struggled with the same issues and what had helped them.  Above all, they just loved me, as I was.  It was an emotional church service as well.  Kevin baptized a young woman coming from a troubled background and was struggling to make a new life for herself.  The focus of the service was on 1 Corinthians 13, the famous love chapter. We celebrated communion together. That focus of love is what I felt from everyone in the room that day.  An overwhelming, uplifting sense of deep, abiding love.  We don't love each other because we always get along or agree.  We don't love each other because of our status in society or how much money we make or the fact that we have our lives seemingly put together.  We love each other because Jesus first loved us and he told us to love others as we love ourselves.  We love each other because we're broken and we're hurting and we just need someone to hug us and say "I love you."  And boy, are there a lot of people at our church that will do just that.  No judgement, just love.

I'm still struggling with the frustration over GD.  I mess up and eat something with too many carbs and then feel like pitching a mini hissy fit when I see the numbers that are too high.  I look longingly at my Oreos and then grab a handful of almonds.  But instead of collapsing to the floor in anguish, I take a walk.  I increase my protein intake.  I go back to the grocery store and try different foods.  I get up and I try again.  I'm sure by the time I get it figured out, my baby boy will be here and hopefully, I will no longer have to struggle with it.  But I will always have to be mindful of my blood sugar because having GD increases your chances of having type 2 down the road.  I have regained some control in knowing that if I try my best, I have a good chance of avoiding induction.  But, it's still hard to read some of the articles and not feel like I'm being talked down to so I'll leave you with this...

To all you struggling Moms out there:

You are doing a fantastic job.  No one else could be the mother that you are to your children.  They need you and they love you.  You are beautiful.  You are wonderful.  You are valued.  You are not a failure.