There is a unique phase of the childbearing process called transition, that I found myself pondering yesterday.

It is a shifting gears kind of time;

Disconcerting, intense and emotional.

Your hands and legs shake, you gasp “I can’t DO this”.

Everything has worked to bring you to a point where you are ready to crown the new.

It is surreal and unworldly.

In your head, you go to that faraway place where no sounds reach you.


In the middle of my day yesterday, while I was literally scrubbing out the insides of my new kitchen drawers, I remembered what transition felt like. It was a weird thought, as I don’t tend to dwell on the less pleasant aspects of childbirth, but was an encouraging one, because I know transition is the signal that life is about to appear.


It’s that, okay Guys, get ready time.

And it is bigger than the cage we have for it. It has to break forth.


The last few weeks, I have been confined to the Faraway Head Place but it was consoling to remember yesterday that having true relationship with God is knowing He is real even when we can’t feel Him.

In the grip of transition shakes, I can truly say that I no longer need evidence to prove He exists.

In the absence of feeling safe and happy and able to connect with Him, I know in the empty places, He hovers.

Each breath I inhale and each tear I shed makes Him no more or less real.

A little like when we are about give birth – and we are in the middle of incredible physical distress –

we KNOW this is all about a baby even though it feels and looks like the last thing a baby represents.

There are none of the cliché baby signs present in transition: no powdery smell, tiny clothes or outpouring of love.

Yet, we cannot not deny that is the reason we are there, working real hard.

We can’t see it, nor imagine it’s face nor who it will grow to be.

But it is a part of our future that is arriving in a gritty, real and uncomfortable way none-the-less.

And that is where I am. In the place of bringing myself face to face with the future. Everything has led up to this point.

And it will not last.


And now it is here I am reduced to drinking copious quantities of tea and coffee


from these ridiculously weird little cups.

To living with rented furniture.


I fold unfamiliar school uniforms,

and drive around a bustling and busy city in a new vehicle,

I get lost, hooted at,

and grip the steering wheel with sweaty palms.

I leave my children in new places, with total strangers.

I count coins that make no sense.

I frown on the phone when trying to decipher the foreign accents.

I miss being able to do things without knowing how to do them.

Like where to park the car when I need milk.

Or where to buy a laundry marker pen, or a lunchbox.

Or how to get my phone to work.

I am a fish out of water.


But I am close to meeting the New,

holding it close in my arms and saying

Hello Lovely, nice to meet you.

I will post more images of our new home as we get our stuff organised.

Right now it is a suitcase and laundry (and gecko) infested 3 level semi-detached house with a view of palms and skyscrapers.

And I have a howling wilderness for a brain,

but I did remember to buy flowers with my first grocery shop for essentials.

So that’s gotta count for something, right?

Sophie  – (August 6, 2010 at 7:12 PM)  

thinking of you and praying for a friendly face for you in the new place

Gail  – (August 6, 2010 at 7:15 PM)  

It sure does babe. I can almost smell those flowers from the image.

Lovely to see you on here.
I'm so looking forward to see the promised land on the other side of this wilderness.

Are you sure you're not up the road at the round-a-bout? I regularly get lost and tooted at there.

And how is the biggest little girl going now?

So many questions....

Kelly Langner Sauer  – (August 6, 2010 at 10:14 PM)  

oh yes. I think about transition so often, partially because it was so dramatic with both my birth experiences. It doesn't make so much sense to me yet, since I wasn't looking forward to the "baby" on the other side so much as getting past the pregnancy.

Your perspective on the new about to crown - I think looking forward instead of behind might do me good...

Thinking of you.

Simoney  – (August 7, 2010 at 12:09 AM)  

Love and hugs to you Amy; so lovely to hear where you are at (and TOTALLY hearing you, on the transition thing. Ouch)

HisFireFly  – (August 7, 2010 at 1:45 AM)  

I have never given birth to a child, but I hear your words and can apply them to many other time of change and birth ...
endings and beginnings..
the becoming...

wonderful post.

Anonymous –   – (August 7, 2010 at 4:12 PM)  

love these words
beautiful pictures
let life begin
love and light

sarah Lloyd –   – (August 7, 2010 at 5:29 PM)  

hello my precious friend.
been thinking of you so much and so glad to read updates of life for you. Your writing was very encouraging, reminding me of important 'faith' truths. Love you so much, not sure of your email at present but would love to do a phone call next week so i'll endeavour to find YOU with my sneaky detective-world skills!
love u, me

Anonymous –   – (August 9, 2010 at 12:12 PM)  

smiles, hugs to you.


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