Dear Noah

Noah,

You're 11 weeks old today. I feel like for the past few weeks I've been thinking of you as "nearly 3 months old" which, when you were 8 weeks old, was just not accurate at all. But now here we are almost actually 12 weeks and then 3 months old, and ugh. Where did time go? The last week we've been easing into a smoother place after a few rough weeks.

I was thinking about the day you were born (actually, at 4:29pm which is when you were born). And I wanted to write. I'm typing this because my journal is in your room and you're sleeping in your room for a few more minutes. This sleeping in your room is a new thing you've done that past few days... one nap a day in the rock and play and I sit out here and watch you on the monitor and simultanously love having two hands, and miss holding you. Where did you take all your naps two weeks ago? How is it that I can't even remember? I'm so glad I dropped everything and just loved on your the past few weeks. There was some frustration initially, as I adjusted my expectations. You're keeping me on my toes. This week it seems like you take a morning nap in the Moby wrap while we walk, your mid-morning/early afternoon nap in the rock and play (used to be that I'd try to sleep with you on me for that nap), and afternoon naps are hit or miss and often involve my "mellow music" playlist, which I'm thoroughly sick of.

Those early weeks I remember walking out to the driveway with you and singing "How Great Thou Art" to get you to calm down. Your dad would come home and read to you on the couch and then you'd pass out on him and I'd have to wake you both for the last feeding of the day. For a long time you ate at 10pm, 2am, and 6am and then whenever you wanted during the day. Things are sliiiightly more predictable now, and I aim to get 7 feedings in, with the last one starting around 10pm. Some nights you wake up at 2 or 3, but more often than not you've been sleeping until 4... and even 5am the last two days! It's amazing the difference a little more unbroken sleep makes... in all of us! You had a pretty rough time from weeks 6-9 figuring how to nap and some days you'd get so exhausted you'd just screamed at night. You'd look at us like, "how are you not fixing this? How do you not know what I'm saying?" And we didn't know. We had no clue. We just knew you were sad and it made us sad that we couldn't make it better.

I just looked through your birth pictures. I'm so glad Vanessa was there to capture that special day! "Special" doesn't even do it justice. It just sounds trite and inadequate. But I look at the pictures of your coming out and crying, and there's one sequence of shots where they are putting you on my chest and you're crying, scrunching your face, and then... relaxed and resting on me. It brings me so much joy and makes my heart want to burst for love for you and your vulnerability and your trust. I'm your only mom and you trust me and that is just above understanding. Babies are so vulnerable! And it breaks my heart knowing that there are other times that the world will be cold and loud and frightening and I won't be there to make it instantly better. Or I will be there, but I won't be enough. This is inevitably a matter of if, not when, and it draws me back to Jesus. The incarnation never seemed so real. Jesus never seemed so vulnerable. To come into the world as a helpless baby!?

These thoughts also draw me to Jesus because I hope with all my heart that you will know that when you can't find comfort at home, and I'm not there to take care of you, Jesus is enough. (Even me "being present" with you isn't enough for my fickle heart). And if he loves his children as much as I love you, then this love is nearly incomprehensible. An all-consuming, I love you, I want what's best for you, I want you to know the answer is right here, right in front of you, even when you can't see it. Even when the options are confusing and the world is overwhelming, the only really important choice is Jesus. He's the ultimate comforter. He's the one who can really dry the tears from your eyes. I want him to be enough for me, and I want him to be enough for you. I love that our relationship gives me a new glimpse of what God's love must be like. The times I have your food right there and you can't calm down enough to find it, the times you're so tired you're freaking out and you just need to breathe and relax, the times you get scared and I'm just one room away but how can you know that? Those are the times I wonder if God is just laughing at me. Because usually the solutions to your problems are so simple and obvious to me. How must I look to God, with all my fumbling, and complaining, and fretting?

Thank you, Noah, for showing me what really matters.

Love,
Mama

Babies Don't Keep

Mother, oh mother, come shake out your cloth!
Empty the dustpan, poison the moth,
Hang out the washing and butter the bread,
Sew on a button and make up a bed.
Where is the mother whose house is so shocking?
She's up in the nursery, blissfully rocking!

Oh, I've grown as shiftless as Little Boy Blue
(Lullaby, rockaby, lullaby, loo).
Dishes are waiting and bills are past due
(Pat-a-cake, darling, and peek, peekaboo).
The shopping's not done and there's nothing for stew
And out in the yard there's a hullabaloo
But I'm playing Kanga and this is my Roo.
Look! Aren't her eyes the most wonderful hue?
(Lullaby, rockaby, lullaby loo.)

Oh, cleaning and scrubbing will wait till tomorrow,
But children grow up, as I've learned to my sorrow.
So quiet down, cobwebs. Dust, go to sleep.
I'm rocking my baby. Babies don't keep.

{Ruth Hamilton}

Highlights from August 11-18 when I gave up fighting Noah for sleep and focused on getting him some rest whenever, wherever. That was my only goal each day: