Originally from December 2008
I’m an odd duck, it’s true. I look forward to writing our family Christmas letter all year long. Now that it’s that time of year, however, I’m encountering a case of writer’s block, severe as they come. Perhaps writer’s block, at least for me, has to due with me being nine months pregnant. Excuses, excuses.
I’m going to be easy on myself this year and just write a blurb about each of us, oldest to youngest.
Greg: After all most four years of marriage, good ol’ Greg is still my very best friend and the love of my life, no less. Good thing we still like each other. We’re on this crazy adventure called marriage for the long haul. Greg’s generosity and faithfulness blows me away. I’m learning so much from my husband about patience and gentleness. I’d like to think he’s learning a lot from me, but it hasn’t been the case this year. I’m not nice when pregnant. Don’t hold your breath, but maybe he’ll learn something from me next year.
Greg is frantically working on our house, getting it ready for our new addition. In the process, he discovered a leaky pipe in our family room. It’s slowly been leaking ever since the house was built in 1988. But all’s well that ends well. We no longer have a 5-foot hole in our wall where a little patching had to happen. He’s in the process of sanding everything so he can texture and repaint, hopefully before Steven comes. Also, Greg’s working on making a dream of his come true: remodeling the garage, or as I secretly call it, the man cave.
Nicole: I’m about 38 weeks pregnant and about to pop. I’ve found this pregnancy to be kinder on my body than my pregnancy with Emily, except for the first twenty weeks which almost did me in. I identify this time around with women who say they enjoy pregnancy. No words can possibly describe the wonderment of having a human growing inside me. I’m in awe daily. I also spend quite a bit of time mulling over the mystery of the stretch marks, which congregate mostly on my right hip.
I’m seriously freaked out about being pregnant again, even more scared to have another baby. God gently ministered to my heart through a verse from the prophet Zepaniah (Zeph. 3:17). I know now, without a doubt, that he is with me in this pregnancy, and will be with me as I take care of a newborn again, even though it scares me out of my ever freaking mind. Above all, he is mighty to save. All I have to do is run to his outstretched arms and he will calm my fears. In fact, he rejoices over me with singing. I never understood this verse until I was lying on the couch during the first few months of pregnancy, too nauseous to do anything but puke. God spoke to me through a picture of me rocking Emily as I sang a lullaby. He spoke to my heart about how this is how he wants to nurture me. He just wants me to lay everything down at his feet as I come to him. He will quiet my anxious heart with singing. Pretty cool, I think. For those who might say at this point that I’m a bit of a fanatic, I probably am. But everyone has to have a passion. I really love the Lord and I’m excited about what he’s doing in my life and in the life of my family.
Emily: Believe it or not, our princess will be two at the end of this month. Emily comes in two speeds, fast and faster. Surely her motto is, Why walk if you can run and why run if you can skip or hop? Curious, like her daddy, Emmie likes to discover how things work, loves to color, and really loves the letter O. Best of all, she loves watching me put my make-up on. And getting into make-up. Unless it’s chicken nuggets, meat is avoided at all costs. Emily hates being alone in her big girl bed, camping, and her brown shoes. She adores her cousins Brad, Margaux and Greta. If only cousin Isaac lived closer! Brad, almost eleven, is Emily’s beloved Bro-Bro, and the apple of her eye.
Just the other day, after several attempts to get Em to put her coat on, I tried reasoning with my almost two-year-old. I told her that she should want to put the darn coat on because it first belonged to Greta. Emily loves Greta. When that didn’t work, I threw it out there that maybe, just maybe, it was once Margaux’s coat. She really loves Maggie. Emily scowled, but switched gears and asked if the coat ever belonged to Bro-Bro. I was tempted to lie right then and there. But I couldn’t lie to my little girl. I ended up reminding Emily that her coat used to live at Brad’s house, and that maybe, just maybe, it hung next to his coat at one time or other. It was good enough for my Emily and she gleefully slipped into the darn coat. Mama for the win.
Baby-to-be: Steven Thomas is due around the twenty-ninth, right before big sister’s birthday. Given my limited experience in childbirth, no one is holding their breath for a 2008 baby. We chose the name Steven after my dad. And the Stephen in the Bible, a gentle man who was martyred for his faith in the days of the early church. Interestingly enough, Steven literally means crowned or victorious, which is how my dad’s new life is with Jesus. His life reminds me of the saints in Hebrews 11 who lived by faith but did not receive their crowns or rewards on earth but in heaven. Julea, my sister-in-law, gave a verse for little Steven that I’m hanging on to. “He will be a joy and delight to you, and many will rejoice because of his birth, for he will be great in the sight of the Lord…” (Luke 1:14, 15). That’s my hope and prayer for our baby boy.
Well, the writing was surprisingly simple and pain-free, once I gave it a shot. It’s amazing how the words come when I start writing. I wish it was this easy in college. Anyway, we three Twedts wish you a blessed celebration of our Savior’s birth. We’ll be sure to let you know when Steven makes his appearance.
Love,
Greg, Nicole and Emily
P.S.
Steven Thomas Twedt. January 3. 9 pounds, 3 ounces. 21 1/4 inches.
