After Noah was born, I spent a lot of time telling myself, I can't. I've written before that I eventually found the second half of that statement to be ...but God can! Now that Rosie's been here for a year, I'm finally seeing the hidden subtext I'd never noticed before: When I say I can't, I'm really beating myself up because the message is, "I should be able to, BUT I can't."
This has been a revelation to me in the past week or so. The embarrassing is, I'm not trying to hold the world up on my shoulders and do all the things. To many, my calendar might look pretty clear. So when I'm saying I can't, it's not in response to not being able to run the local MOPS group single-handedly. I'm saying I can't get through the day with my kids without having moments of wanting to run away for a week. I can't stop myself from yelling when discipline gets challenging (the fatigue of a second child is definitely bringing out the yeller in me that I had pridefully thought wasn't there before). I can't organize fun activities for the kids when it takes everything in me to get out of bed again.
I have trouble sharing and verbalizing these things because many of my friends have more kids. They have more obligations. They work more hours outside the home. And if they don't, well, I find myself feeling bitter and resentful that they DO have more money, or more childcare, or family in town, or a bigger house.
I'm seeing that humility goes both ways: I can feel shame in feeling like I've been given more than I can handle, and I can feel shame in the fact that I can't handle more.
Last weekend, I listened to a podcast episode on self-care and self-comfort. I really liked the distinction between the two, and the suggestions they discussed. I asked some friends what they did for self-care and self-comfort. More as a conversation starter than anything, but it brought out some ugly responses in my mind. Why CAN'T I get up in the morning before my kids if the mom of three under three can? Why CAN'T I go to the gym in the morning and put my kids in childcare? My answers ranged from practical to petty: I can't wake up before my kids because I'm often awake either multiple times or for for multiple hours between 2-5am. I can't go to the gym in the morning because I'm already anxious about germs after how bad last winter was, and since Rosie still takes morning naps, I can't be at the gym first thing before other kids and their germs start to filter in.
Then I started beating myself up about the fact that I still haven't figured out how to work out consistently with two kids around. (Sleep-deprived monkey brain is a REAL THING.) Then I remembered that Rosie and I were sick for about 4 months straight from mid-October through mid-February, including several ER visits and one inpatient stay. And once the sickness passed, she was in a habit of waking up every 45-90 minutes for WEEKS and I was so exhausted I had to take the month of March off of work completely. So then self-flagellation turned to self-pity, which quickly went down the path of "no one understands how hard my life is." I'm left trying to justify my own difficulties and my own capacity, which is really unnecessary.
Clearly, I'm not in a good head space. But God has been gracious to me in that he seems to be giving me some tools and insights to get out of this vicious cycle. When we night-weaned and sleep trained a month ago, I had really high hopes. I registered for a month with a personal trainer. I bookmarked a bunch of new recipes. I checked out a ton of parenting books from the library. And you know what? If anything, we are sleeping LESS. HUMILITY YOU GUYS. He's leaving no doubt in my mind that the ONLY things I can focus on right now are the basics: sleeping, eating, breathing, walking. I can dive deeper into these disciplines instead of trying to cast a wider net of "shoulds."
The funny thing is, I've been beating myself up for A YEAR thinking, if I can just find the best devotional routine, or a quick mid-day recharge, or a self-care routine, or a daytime babysitter for 2 hours a week, I can find rest in the midst of the crazy. I have no doubt that God invites us to rest in the midst of the crazy. Even Jesus went away to be alone (and sometimes got interrupted when he did).
But sleep deprivation is real. I constantly feel like I'm coming down with the flu. My whole body hurts and I'm tired down to my bones. My short-term memory is shot, and my word and name recall is just embarrassing. Instead of adding more "self-care" things to my list of obligations, maybe I need to remove some of the "self-harm" things? The social media that's fine in and of itself, until I spend the precious little free time I get scrolling on my phone. The playdates that I like to plan because they mean getting out of our messy house, and they occupy my 4 year old so he's not constantly pestering me, but they also interfere with a daily routine and leave me tired AND missing out on my 45-60 minutes of mid-day down time.
This even extends to my other work, minimal as it might be. My hospital job was my very favorite thing before Rosie was born, but it's been a struggle for the past year. Maybe it was maternity leave: the bliss of having every single weekend free for three months. Or maybe it's just that now I need more downtime to balance out more chaos. Whatever it is, I'm just over here trying to maintain the status quo until God gives me some clear direction one way or another. I ALMOST quit in March, which is a whole post of its own. But I haven't written it yet, because everything still feels so undetermined.
My lactation consultant home-visit business has been, surprisingly, growing. I see one client a week, and often turn another 1-2 down because of time constraints. When I only have a few consistent rest times during the week, seeing a client during that time and striving to get both kids down and quiet and tidy up the house... is burning me out. And as always in my life, I have trouble distinguishing between whether I'm being called to push through and do the hard work, or whether I'm being called to lay that work down.
So I wait. And I'm faithful with the bare minimum: sleeping, eating, breathing, walking.
Because when I acknowledge that I CAN'T, I'm really acknowledging that I'm not God. And that's RIGHT where I need to be.
Showing posts with label sanctification station. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sanctification station. Show all posts
Tuesday, September 18, 2018
Monday, September 10, 2018
When the Weather Changes but Your Season Doesn't
For as long as I can remember, summer has been my favorite season. It's when I recharge, fill my bucket, and remember everything I love about life. I live for hot days, farmers markets, long morning walks, and late sunsets. But I don't know... this summer, I never got into the groove.
Usually, the end of summer finds me feeling nostalgic and overflowing with gratitude for how I grew and how life changed over the months that span between Memorial Day and Labor Day. Yet this year's Labor Day came and went a week ago, and I can't muster up any sort of comprehensive feeling about this summer. It just kind of happened, and that is all. But what's even more alarming is that, if I'm perfectly honest, I was pretty over summer by early July. I don't know if I was tired of the weather, or the season of newly-mobile-baby, or sleepless nights, or what. It all probably blends together, honestly.
The thing is, the life season I'm in isn't bad. It's not overly heavy or traumatic or anything like that. But when I think a little more, there are a lot of external factors that have created a cumulative sort of chaos. Some of the stories aren't mine to share. Some of it is just work stress from Ross' promotion and my own unit being short-staffed. And some factors are simply a product of living with two little people.
This past spring, I really found comfort in the idea that you don't have to be blooming to be growing; yet, even that has led to some guilt. I know I'm not putting disciplines and practices in place to deepen my roots-- instead, I'm just making it from one day to the next, putting off the hard work until "tomorrow." And here I am, one hundred "tomorrows" later, feeling like I didn't put any work in to change my season.
But do you know what's astounding to me? In the past few weeks, God has poured kindness upon me in a million little ways I wasn't expecting. I feel really undeserving.
If you catch me in a moment, I'm probably going to give you two dozen reasons why my life feels out of control today (sorry friends). But honestly, while those reasons are giving me total monkey brain, they aren't weighing me down like they could. I'm really grateful for that. God seems to be reminding me that it's his work and not mine that will make the difference, and I feel... okay about that.
A few weeks ago, we finished up summer travel. Ross didn't have a work trip for a while, and Noah was about to start preschool again. So we decided it was time to night wean Rosie. Sometimes she was waking up 1-2 times a night, but other times she'd be up at 11pm, 2am, and 5am and that's just too much at 12 months. So we night weaned and really after the first night, she did so well with it! She slept from 7:30pm-5am a few times, and I felt like I could take on the world.
I was making big plans: routines, exercise, maybe starting a podcast. But mostly I was more than ready to be a happier, more well-rested person. But you know, then she went back to waking up 1-2 times a night. I don't know why. And I had two weird little health crises (I'm mostly fine now). And Ross was out of town this past weekend. And today I'm feeling just as tired as I was a month ago, and more than a little discouraged. I realized I was expecting my life season to change along with the weather and the calendar. And when it didn't, I felt a little gypped.
But yesterday made me look back on the past 3-5 weeks with new eyes, and I can see a whole lot of kindness that has been bestowed upon me in spite of my disappointment and inaction. I'm going to a women's conference next month, and last night they shared this verse: "He who was seated on the throne said, 'Behold I am making all things new.' Also he said, 'write this down for these words are trustworthy and true.'" Revelation 21:5.
It's the second time in the past month that this promise for all things new has been pressed upon me. And it reminds me that HE is making all things new. It also reminds ME to write these things down so I don't forget sweet little ordinary (and not-so-ordinary) gifts from God.
... Noah's first week of school was astonishingly awful. School itself was fine the two days he was there. Home was a disaster, and it brought out what was possibly my very worst mothering week ever. It's funny, Jen Wilkin says, "the heart can't love what the mind doesn't know," and I've been beating myself up over this. I need to be reading my Bible daily. But you know what? Unbidden one morning (one of those long mornings in which so much chaos happened before 8am, I really should write it down so I can laugh about it years from now) a line from a hymn popped into my head: "I asked the Lord that I might grow, in faith and love and every grace." I couldn't remember the rest of the song, but looking it up brought me to tears and I listened to it on repeat for days. "'Tis in this way,' the Lord replied, 'I answer prayers for grace and faith.'"
... I've been wanting a mentor for YEARS. Six years, to be exact. I've had 3-4 tried-but-failed attempts at this, and honestly over the past year I'd kind of given up. Then you know what happened? A whole lot of stuff I don't know details of or have control over. We had a sudden change in MOPS leadership and I was telling the new coordinator about my hopes for the mentor mom who would be at my table. As I was ending our conversations, I said, "It's funny, I've been praying for a mentor for years, and for some reason God seems to be thwarting that plan." And a few days later, who but my new coordinator, one life season ahead of me and bursting with a love for discipleship, reached out to ME saying, "I can't stop thinking about what you said, and I want to be your mentor!" Really, God? Just like that? And then for good measure, our group shifted again and I ended up with a new mentor mom at my table and her church members just rave about her spiritual leadership skills. Okay, God, I'm paying attention.
... Our neighbor has borrowed our lawn mower a few times this summer. He borrowed it again on Saturday and, when he heard Ross was out of town, he went ahead and mowed our front lawn without saying anything. What a thoughtful little act of service, especially since Ross and I have been arguing about lawn care recently. (Because wouldn't you know, taking care of your yard costs time and money!)
... Last Wednesday, I was determined to start taking better care of myself. The kids were bumping around in my bedroom, but they were playing nicely together and no one was crying. So I sat on the couch and ate my breakfast in peace for 10-15 minutes. The oatmeal was still warm, and I didn't have to get up once. It was glorious and I felt re-charged. I got up to check on Noah and Rosie, and I couldn't even believe my eyes. They'd emptied the bottom rack of my closet, and the entire dresser, AND MY FILE CABINET and dumped it all on the side of the bed. The pile literally went from the bed to the wall and was as high as the mattress. Fifteen minutes of destruction that would require hours of repair. My attitude went south REALLY quickly, and never recovered that day.
Which is funny, because mid-morning, a friend texted me about the book she's reading called Desperate: Hope for the Mom who Needs to Breathe. She said, "Reading this book and thinking of you, because maybe it can be our next mom's book club pick. It is speaking to my heart! Just wanted to say you are so encouraging! I know your life is so crazy (and has been for a long time!) but I am really inspired by how you love your kids and even reach out to other women for the book club and breastfeeding and everything you do. I just see the Lord using you and refining you in this hard season in a way that only He could do, using your unique gifts and strengths. You are an amazing mom for your kids, and I'm so thankful to share life with you!" Well, that made me tear up and it gave me some new perspective.
... But then out of the blue, that same night, I started having crazy back spasms. Some sort of referred pain, not a muscle spasm (Flexeril, heating pad, and Advil did nothing). It was CRAZY. On par with labor in terms of pain, and even in terms of characteristics because I was having these spasms every few minutes, to the point of tears. The next day, I texted my friend back. I was still in pain, but it wasn't nearly as bad. Ross was leaving town the next morning, I needed to find childcare so I could get an abdominal ultrasound the next day, and all of this was going to cost MORE MONEY. I was frustrated because I try so hard to take care of my body and it still malfunctions often. I was having a pity party because I was going to be parenting alone and in pain all weekend. And despite all that, my sweet friend STILL invited the kids and me to dinner that weekend. We went over there on Saturday, and it was total chaos with Rosie opening cabinets and climbing stairs. Noah didn't fall asleep until 11pm after all the excitement, and I'd only slept for one hour the night before. But you know what? It filled me up to chat with my friend, and I was so grateful for her presence, and I slept great that night.
... Speaking of money and bodies that don't work, I lost two hearing aids this summer. One of mine and one of Noah's. With the new technology, they recommend buying two new ones since the aids "communicate" with each other. Which means 4 new pieces of medical equipment that insurance doesn't pay a dime for. But. Remember when Rosie was in the hospital last winter? And then when she went to the ER this spring? The ER visit cost $8,000 and it was a horrible experience. $8,000 for Benadryl, Advil, and a Nurse Practitioner visit? Just... no.
So I applied for financial aid, and we qualified. Which meant that we didn't have to pay for her inpatient stay, or for her ER visit, OR for any care that she received at that hospital through the end of the year. This was phenomenal news! It meant we could actually get her hearing tested at a one-year visit (this was recommended because of family history, but I was dreading it because our insurance doesn't cover it). It meant I could have our pediatrician order her one-year labs and allergy tests at the hospital, too. I'll happily drive across town for free lab work. It also MAYBE means that Noah's hearing test will be covered, as well as his hearing aids, since it all falls in this financial aid window. WHAT. We aren't positive that this is true, but I'm making all the phone calls. If it doesn't cover the aids themselves, I also applied for a grant that will cover 60%, which is better than nothing. Meanwhile, I'm going on 3.5 months with only one hearing aid and it's driving me crazy. I hate making medical decisions based on money. But I'm so grateful my kids have been covered.
... And then you know what was re-iterated three times at church yesterday? My transient troubles, and the power of God.
"Then will the eyes of the blind be opened, the ears of the deaf be cleared" (from Isaiah 35)
"The Lord gives sight to the blind" (from Psalm 146)
"And people brought to Jesus a deaf man who had a speech impediment, and begged him to lay hands on him... He put his finger into the man's ears... He looked up to heaven and groaned, and said to him, 'be opened!' And immediately the man's ears were opened." (from Mark 7)
Do I think God will give me perfect hearing tomorrow? I wouldn't hate it if he did! But I also know that he made me this way for a reason. He will provide for me, even if it's not as direct as free hearing aids. And the more important thing is that my ears are tuned to His voice.
... This this brings me to church yesterday. It was a sweet, sweet day, and it deserves its own post. Walking home yesterday afternoon, I was so tired but so full.
I'm writing it down. God is good. I feel seen and loved and undeserving and happy and really, really tired.
Usually, the end of summer finds me feeling nostalgic and overflowing with gratitude for how I grew and how life changed over the months that span between Memorial Day and Labor Day. Yet this year's Labor Day came and went a week ago, and I can't muster up any sort of comprehensive feeling about this summer. It just kind of happened, and that is all. But what's even more alarming is that, if I'm perfectly honest, I was pretty over summer by early July. I don't know if I was tired of the weather, or the season of newly-mobile-baby, or sleepless nights, or what. It all probably blends together, honestly.
The thing is, the life season I'm in isn't bad. It's not overly heavy or traumatic or anything like that. But when I think a little more, there are a lot of external factors that have created a cumulative sort of chaos. Some of the stories aren't mine to share. Some of it is just work stress from Ross' promotion and my own unit being short-staffed. And some factors are simply a product of living with two little people.
This past spring, I really found comfort in the idea that you don't have to be blooming to be growing; yet, even that has led to some guilt. I know I'm not putting disciplines and practices in place to deepen my roots-- instead, I'm just making it from one day to the next, putting off the hard work until "tomorrow." And here I am, one hundred "tomorrows" later, feeling like I didn't put any work in to change my season.
But do you know what's astounding to me? In the past few weeks, God has poured kindness upon me in a million little ways I wasn't expecting. I feel really undeserving.
If you catch me in a moment, I'm probably going to give you two dozen reasons why my life feels out of control today (sorry friends). But honestly, while those reasons are giving me total monkey brain, they aren't weighing me down like they could. I'm really grateful for that. God seems to be reminding me that it's his work and not mine that will make the difference, and I feel... okay about that.
A few weeks ago, we finished up summer travel. Ross didn't have a work trip for a while, and Noah was about to start preschool again. So we decided it was time to night wean Rosie. Sometimes she was waking up 1-2 times a night, but other times she'd be up at 11pm, 2am, and 5am and that's just too much at 12 months. So we night weaned and really after the first night, she did so well with it! She slept from 7:30pm-5am a few times, and I felt like I could take on the world.
I was making big plans: routines, exercise, maybe starting a podcast. But mostly I was more than ready to be a happier, more well-rested person. But you know, then she went back to waking up 1-2 times a night. I don't know why. And I had two weird little health crises (I'm mostly fine now). And Ross was out of town this past weekend. And today I'm feeling just as tired as I was a month ago, and more than a little discouraged. I realized I was expecting my life season to change along with the weather and the calendar. And when it didn't, I felt a little gypped.
But yesterday made me look back on the past 3-5 weeks with new eyes, and I can see a whole lot of kindness that has been bestowed upon me in spite of my disappointment and inaction. I'm going to a women's conference next month, and last night they shared this verse: "He who was seated on the throne said, 'Behold I am making all things new.' Also he said, 'write this down for these words are trustworthy and true.'" Revelation 21:5.
It's the second time in the past month that this promise for all things new has been pressed upon me. And it reminds me that HE is making all things new. It also reminds ME to write these things down so I don't forget sweet little ordinary (and not-so-ordinary) gifts from God.
... Noah's first week of school was astonishingly awful. School itself was fine the two days he was there. Home was a disaster, and it brought out what was possibly my very worst mothering week ever. It's funny, Jen Wilkin says, "the heart can't love what the mind doesn't know," and I've been beating myself up over this. I need to be reading my Bible daily. But you know what? Unbidden one morning (one of those long mornings in which so much chaos happened before 8am, I really should write it down so I can laugh about it years from now) a line from a hymn popped into my head: "I asked the Lord that I might grow, in faith and love and every grace." I couldn't remember the rest of the song, but looking it up brought me to tears and I listened to it on repeat for days. "'Tis in this way,' the Lord replied, 'I answer prayers for grace and faith.'"
... I've been wanting a mentor for YEARS. Six years, to be exact. I've had 3-4 tried-but-failed attempts at this, and honestly over the past year I'd kind of given up. Then you know what happened? A whole lot of stuff I don't know details of or have control over. We had a sudden change in MOPS leadership and I was telling the new coordinator about my hopes for the mentor mom who would be at my table. As I was ending our conversations, I said, "It's funny, I've been praying for a mentor for years, and for some reason God seems to be thwarting that plan." And a few days later, who but my new coordinator, one life season ahead of me and bursting with a love for discipleship, reached out to ME saying, "I can't stop thinking about what you said, and I want to be your mentor!" Really, God? Just like that? And then for good measure, our group shifted again and I ended up with a new mentor mom at my table and her church members just rave about her spiritual leadership skills. Okay, God, I'm paying attention.
... Our neighbor has borrowed our lawn mower a few times this summer. He borrowed it again on Saturday and, when he heard Ross was out of town, he went ahead and mowed our front lawn without saying anything. What a thoughtful little act of service, especially since Ross and I have been arguing about lawn care recently. (Because wouldn't you know, taking care of your yard costs time and money!)
... Last Wednesday, I was determined to start taking better care of myself. The kids were bumping around in my bedroom, but they were playing nicely together and no one was crying. So I sat on the couch and ate my breakfast in peace for 10-15 minutes. The oatmeal was still warm, and I didn't have to get up once. It was glorious and I felt re-charged. I got up to check on Noah and Rosie, and I couldn't even believe my eyes. They'd emptied the bottom rack of my closet, and the entire dresser, AND MY FILE CABINET and dumped it all on the side of the bed. The pile literally went from the bed to the wall and was as high as the mattress. Fifteen minutes of destruction that would require hours of repair. My attitude went south REALLY quickly, and never recovered that day.
Which is funny, because mid-morning, a friend texted me about the book she's reading called Desperate: Hope for the Mom who Needs to Breathe. She said, "Reading this book and thinking of you, because maybe it can be our next mom's book club pick. It is speaking to my heart! Just wanted to say you are so encouraging! I know your life is so crazy (and has been for a long time!) but I am really inspired by how you love your kids and even reach out to other women for the book club and breastfeeding and everything you do. I just see the Lord using you and refining you in this hard season in a way that only He could do, using your unique gifts and strengths. You are an amazing mom for your kids, and I'm so thankful to share life with you!" Well, that made me tear up and it gave me some new perspective.
... But then out of the blue, that same night, I started having crazy back spasms. Some sort of referred pain, not a muscle spasm (Flexeril, heating pad, and Advil did nothing). It was CRAZY. On par with labor in terms of pain, and even in terms of characteristics because I was having these spasms every few minutes, to the point of tears. The next day, I texted my friend back. I was still in pain, but it wasn't nearly as bad. Ross was leaving town the next morning, I needed to find childcare so I could get an abdominal ultrasound the next day, and all of this was going to cost MORE MONEY. I was frustrated because I try so hard to take care of my body and it still malfunctions often. I was having a pity party because I was going to be parenting alone and in pain all weekend. And despite all that, my sweet friend STILL invited the kids and me to dinner that weekend. We went over there on Saturday, and it was total chaos with Rosie opening cabinets and climbing stairs. Noah didn't fall asleep until 11pm after all the excitement, and I'd only slept for one hour the night before. But you know what? It filled me up to chat with my friend, and I was so grateful for her presence, and I slept great that night.
... Speaking of money and bodies that don't work, I lost two hearing aids this summer. One of mine and one of Noah's. With the new technology, they recommend buying two new ones since the aids "communicate" with each other. Which means 4 new pieces of medical equipment that insurance doesn't pay a dime for. But. Remember when Rosie was in the hospital last winter? And then when she went to the ER this spring? The ER visit cost $8,000 and it was a horrible experience. $8,000 for Benadryl, Advil, and a Nurse Practitioner visit? Just... no.
So I applied for financial aid, and we qualified. Which meant that we didn't have to pay for her inpatient stay, or for her ER visit, OR for any care that she received at that hospital through the end of the year. This was phenomenal news! It meant we could actually get her hearing tested at a one-year visit (this was recommended because of family history, but I was dreading it because our insurance doesn't cover it). It meant I could have our pediatrician order her one-year labs and allergy tests at the hospital, too. I'll happily drive across town for free lab work. It also MAYBE means that Noah's hearing test will be covered, as well as his hearing aids, since it all falls in this financial aid window. WHAT. We aren't positive that this is true, but I'm making all the phone calls. If it doesn't cover the aids themselves, I also applied for a grant that will cover 60%, which is better than nothing. Meanwhile, I'm going on 3.5 months with only one hearing aid and it's driving me crazy. I hate making medical decisions based on money. But I'm so grateful my kids have been covered.
... And then you know what was re-iterated three times at church yesterday? My transient troubles, and the power of God.
"Then will the eyes of the blind be opened, the ears of the deaf be cleared" (from Isaiah 35)
"The Lord gives sight to the blind" (from Psalm 146)
"And people brought to Jesus a deaf man who had a speech impediment, and begged him to lay hands on him... He put his finger into the man's ears... He looked up to heaven and groaned, and said to him, 'be opened!' And immediately the man's ears were opened." (from Mark 7)
Do I think God will give me perfect hearing tomorrow? I wouldn't hate it if he did! But I also know that he made me this way for a reason. He will provide for me, even if it's not as direct as free hearing aids. And the more important thing is that my ears are tuned to His voice.
... This this brings me to church yesterday. It was a sweet, sweet day, and it deserves its own post. Walking home yesterday afternoon, I was so tired but so full.
I'm writing it down. God is good. I feel seen and loved and undeserving and happy and really, really tired.
Thursday, August 9, 2018
A New Thing
I'm not saying God still isn't still present and with me now, but I guess I'm having trouble on my end. I have double the distraction and half the sleep. With Noah, I was certainly quite tired (don't hear me understating this because time and distance has taken the edge off), but after about 8 months, he finally settled into a nap routine and I had two "breaks" most days even though nights were still awful. But I cherished those two breaks! They allowed me to sit and waste time, to do physical therapy, to do a workout (yay endorphins), to journal and do Bible study, to nap. I'm still figuring out how to catch a break this time around. And I'm wondering why I think I'm entitled to one? The line between self-care and selfishness is hard for me to navigate right now.
With one kid, once we got into a rhythm, we could more or less plan on it sticking for 2-3 months until the next big change, at which point we'd have a week or two of frustration, an a-ha moment, re-calibration, and a week or two of adjusting to the new normal. With two kids, my Type A brain is reeling. (And it's "only" two kids!)
It's hard not to miss the downtime of morning nap. I dread laying one down only to leave the room to get bombarded by, "MAMA WILL YOU PLAY WITH ME" for an hour and a half while all I yearn to do is drink hot coffee and eat my breakfast in introverted silence. Sometimes I have it in me to sit down and engage and enjoy sweet one on one time with my firstborn. I never regret it, but it's the hardest thing to do right now, and consequently it almost never happens. So then I feel guilty, too.
It's hard not to miss morning walks. Noah and I took really sweet morning walks the summers he was 1 and 2 (they dwindled a bit last summer once the heat wave hit and I was in my third trimester). Walking with the two of them now is still better than not walking, but it wears me out for the rest of the day if we manage to do it! The heat is unbearable right now. Or maybe it's the humidity that makes it ungodly, but between that and almost pushing my own body weight when we walk, it's not as relaxing as it used to be. It's hard for me to admit that the season of little littles dwindles as my oldest grows too big for the stroller.
It's not at all helpful for me to compare seasons, but it's hard not to. There are wonderful things about not being home with just a baby all day. But the hard things stand out more right now. It's clear to me over and over again that my expectations are left wanting, yet I'm not quite ready to let go of them.
So... they tell you every kid is different, and I guess I'm just learning that in a tangible way. And each journey with each kid is different, too. With the first, every age and stage seemed distinct and surprising and new. With the second, the first year seemed more fluid and about 5 times faster. Some things are similar: both of these kids have a feisty attitude, they had major major sleep regressions from months 4-7, they didn't fall into a nap routine until 8 months, they don't sleep through the night until after a year. But the chaos and noise and NEED is compounded. While my heart is ABSOLUTELY filled with twice the love, I'm finding that twice the patience, twice the kindness, twice the energy... that's harder to come by.
I ended up crying at a playdate at the park last week when everything kind of accumulated. I forget to give myself permission to say that things are challenging. Like, I complain about them out loud, but I don't actually give myself grace for them! Life with two is hard. And it's been compounded by work stress for Ross and for me (another post entirely), by financial stress, medical bills, the fact that we built a new friggin' building in our backyard this winter in addition to all the sickness and sleeplessness. My car has had more in repairs than it's actually worth in the past year and a half, and the check engine light came on again. I LOST MY HEARING AID the weekend of my brother's wedding. Then I LOST NOAH'S HEARING AID a few weeks ago. Family drama with loose ends that leaves us feeling inept and unsure. Feeling completely invisible and not recognizing myself in the mirror.
Anyway, this wasn't meant to be a long-winded list of grievances. This... is where I am. A little bit of chaos with a lot of emotional responsibility mixed in. I want this to be my starting place. This holy, parched, broken ground where I NEED a new thing to spring up.
Monday, April 30, 2018
Preaching to Myself
I'm sitting in the backyard shed. In silence. Alone. And I'm not even sure where to start. This moment was a looong 9 months in the making, and I'm fairly certain it can/will end at any moment. But I wanted to sit here with my cupcake and my nettle tea and my thoughts, because I'm behind on my thoughts. I'm not sure I knew that was possible, but as someone who needs to deal with emotions by naming them and moving through them, I can tell you it's been pretty chaotic for me to not have time to sit in silence and reflect.
And I've been wanting to reflect on a lot of things lately. So it surprises me that today's reflections are on body image of all things, since these thoughts seemed to come a bit out of the blue. I've been organizing and putting away baby clothes and maternity clothes over the past few days, and even though it's nice to see my old clothes in my closet, the reality is that I won't be wearing most of them any time soon.
It's funny, because my 17-years-ago-self would be really focused on sizes and numbers right now. But let me take a minute here: 17 years ago. Every time I think about this, I'm overwhelmed with gratitude that the peak of my anorexia is now half a lifetime away from me. My past self never even fathomed all of the fullness that life beyond recovery held, and my present self is moved beyond words by the ways in which God pulled me from the muck and mire and set me on solid ground.
So anyway, it's hard to name what I'm feeling right now. I experienced a lot of freedom and healing in my pregnancy with Noah and the subsequent postpartum recovery I went through. I was in physical pain every day, and I felt like my body had come this far only to betray me. It took a lot of time and money and work and tears to move beyond that. But aside from the pain and physical recovery, there was also the ever-present bodily recovery in the sense of recognizing who I saw in the mirror. Just like the weight gain curve in pregnancy, I learned that my body had its own weight loss curve postpartum, and that I really couldn't comfortably and safely impact the progression that happened.
I gained 30 pounds in 38.5 weeks of pregnancy with Noah, lost 15 pounds (7lbs 8.7oz of that was a bouncing baby boy) within a few days of delivery, and pretty much hung out there for 7-8 months. I lost maybe 5 pounds around that point, another 5 pounds after 14-15 months when Noah started sleeping through the night, and another 2-3 pounds when we weaned at 26 months. For much of the first year with Noah, I was run into the ground. I've talked about this plenty of times before, with the house under construction, the colic, the pain, the postpartum anxiety, the sheer sleeplessness, the anemia, the fatigue. I was trying to work out and take care of myself, but I was not quite sure what that really meant and it took quite a while to find a new normal.
Before getting pregnant with Rosie, I was still technically hanging onto the last 3-5 pounds, but as I told a friend, I really had neither the time, nor money, nor f*cks to give at that point. I was happy and comfortable and active. I was a little softer than before (literally and figuratively), but I fit into most of my old clothes and I was mostly just so grateful for a body that allowed me to carry and birth a firework of a baby, to breastfeed him as long as I wanted to, and to carry him around and play with him and take long walks and snuggle at naps.
I gained 30 pounds in 38.3 weeks with Rosie, and again lost 15 pounds right away (7lbs 15.3oz of sweet baby included). But post-Rosie, getting "back into shape" hasn't really been a focus, in a good way. I was meticulous about physical therapy in pregnancy and postpartum since my first and foremost goal was to avoid another painful recovery if at all possible. I stayed on top of acupuncture and herbs. I focused on lots of nourishing and healing foods. And I'm grateful that purely focusing on replenishing and restoring has brought me this far. Physical recovery has been so different this time. I've been so grateful for that, I didn't really care about anything else. But the fact of the matter is, I sit here 9 months out a solid 15 pounds heavier than were I started 18 months ago, and much more... stretched out... than I was after the first baby. So yeah, the weather is warming up and I'm not wearing layers and sweaters and vests, and I'll be honest, I'm realizing it's been a while since I really evaluated the situation in the mirror.
I'm a bridesmaid in my brother's wedding in 4 weeks and I'm honored and psyched to be a part of their big day! But I took my dress to the seamstress this weekend and had to face the fact I'm also the mom to two babies on earth and two in heaven and I'm 5 years older than all the other (childless) bridesmaids. Let's be honest. I've lived a whole lot of life in those 5 years. Life that I'm grateful for and overwhelmed by and wouldn't trade for the world, but life nonetheless. And it shows.
It's hard for me to express this in a non-navel-gazing way: how I am so thankful for life right now and every single thing that brought me here, but how I also maybe wish I looked a little more familiar to myself. And that really is it. It's not about being a certain size or weight, but being at home with myself again. I've grown a little detached in the chaos of adjusting to two kids and getting through the long winter.
A friend recently shared her pregnancy news on a text chain with a few of us, and she was asking about weight gain. Everyone was sharing their stories, and I said, "I gained 30lbs on the dot for both of mine, but they were both 1-2 weeks early. With Noah I gained really rapidly in the first tri, then stalled in the second, then gained steadily in the third. With Rosie, I gained nothing in the first tri (so sick), gained really rapidly in the second, and then stalled a bit between 25-35 weeks. I panicked a bit both times because it wasn't a perfect linear progression. But your body does what it needs to do, and all you can do is eat as healthily as appetite allows, and be as active as you have the energy to be. Pregnancy and postpartum was/is redemptive for me in learning to trust how God made my body. With both kids, I lost 15 pounds right away, and the other 15 pounds seems to hang around for a good year. I'm in the middle of that now, but trusting and remembering that it goes away (fairly) easily when I start sleeping through the night again and having more energy during the day."
Really, though, other friends' answers were better for me to hear. Emily said that after having 4 babies, "I honestly feel more at home in my body even though it's a far cry from being in shape. After seeing the healthy humans I made, I see it in a much more positive light."
Alison's response stopped me in my tracks:
I really loved her answer, and it gave voice to some of my thoughts about the giving of yourself. I feel like motherhood, for me, has really been a season of listening and learning and being patient. This is hard for me, as a verbal processor who likes to be bossy and know all the answers! But VERY slowly God is beginning to connect some of the dots for me. These body image thoughts have been rolling around for the past year and a half, ever since I got pregnant with Rosie, and they came full circle when I was listening to a podcast this morning and the conversation came around to body image in motherhood.
In the episode, Hannah Anderson says,
And I've been wanting to reflect on a lot of things lately. So it surprises me that today's reflections are on body image of all things, since these thoughts seemed to come a bit out of the blue. I've been organizing and putting away baby clothes and maternity clothes over the past few days, and even though it's nice to see my old clothes in my closet, the reality is that I won't be wearing most of them any time soon.
It's funny, because my 17-years-ago-self would be really focused on sizes and numbers right now. But let me take a minute here: 17 years ago. Every time I think about this, I'm overwhelmed with gratitude that the peak of my anorexia is now half a lifetime away from me. My past self never even fathomed all of the fullness that life beyond recovery held, and my present self is moved beyond words by the ways in which God pulled me from the muck and mire and set me on solid ground.
So anyway, it's hard to name what I'm feeling right now. I experienced a lot of freedom and healing in my pregnancy with Noah and the subsequent postpartum recovery I went through. I was in physical pain every day, and I felt like my body had come this far only to betray me. It took a lot of time and money and work and tears to move beyond that. But aside from the pain and physical recovery, there was also the ever-present bodily recovery in the sense of recognizing who I saw in the mirror. Just like the weight gain curve in pregnancy, I learned that my body had its own weight loss curve postpartum, and that I really couldn't comfortably and safely impact the progression that happened.
I gained 30 pounds in 38.5 weeks of pregnancy with Noah, lost 15 pounds (7lbs 8.7oz of that was a bouncing baby boy) within a few days of delivery, and pretty much hung out there for 7-8 months. I lost maybe 5 pounds around that point, another 5 pounds after 14-15 months when Noah started sleeping through the night, and another 2-3 pounds when we weaned at 26 months. For much of the first year with Noah, I was run into the ground. I've talked about this plenty of times before, with the house under construction, the colic, the pain, the postpartum anxiety, the sheer sleeplessness, the anemia, the fatigue. I was trying to work out and take care of myself, but I was not quite sure what that really meant and it took quite a while to find a new normal.
Before getting pregnant with Rosie, I was still technically hanging onto the last 3-5 pounds, but as I told a friend, I really had neither the time, nor money, nor f*cks to give at that point. I was happy and comfortable and active. I was a little softer than before (literally and figuratively), but I fit into most of my old clothes and I was mostly just so grateful for a body that allowed me to carry and birth a firework of a baby, to breastfeed him as long as I wanted to, and to carry him around and play with him and take long walks and snuggle at naps.
I gained 30 pounds in 38.3 weeks with Rosie, and again lost 15 pounds right away (7lbs 15.3oz of sweet baby included). But post-Rosie, getting "back into shape" hasn't really been a focus, in a good way. I was meticulous about physical therapy in pregnancy and postpartum since my first and foremost goal was to avoid another painful recovery if at all possible. I stayed on top of acupuncture and herbs. I focused on lots of nourishing and healing foods. And I'm grateful that purely focusing on replenishing and restoring has brought me this far. Physical recovery has been so different this time. I've been so grateful for that, I didn't really care about anything else. But the fact of the matter is, I sit here 9 months out a solid 15 pounds heavier than were I started 18 months ago, and much more... stretched out... than I was after the first baby. So yeah, the weather is warming up and I'm not wearing layers and sweaters and vests, and I'll be honest, I'm realizing it's been a while since I really evaluated the situation in the mirror.
I'm a bridesmaid in my brother's wedding in 4 weeks and I'm honored and psyched to be a part of their big day! But I took my dress to the seamstress this weekend and had to face the fact I'm also the mom to two babies on earth and two in heaven and I'm 5 years older than all the other (childless) bridesmaids. Let's be honest. I've lived a whole lot of life in those 5 years. Life that I'm grateful for and overwhelmed by and wouldn't trade for the world, but life nonetheless. And it shows.
It's hard for me to express this in a non-navel-gazing way: how I am so thankful for life right now and every single thing that brought me here, but how I also maybe wish I looked a little more familiar to myself. And that really is it. It's not about being a certain size or weight, but being at home with myself again. I've grown a little detached in the chaos of adjusting to two kids and getting through the long winter.
A friend recently shared her pregnancy news on a text chain with a few of us, and she was asking about weight gain. Everyone was sharing their stories, and I said, "I gained 30lbs on the dot for both of mine, but they were both 1-2 weeks early. With Noah I gained really rapidly in the first tri, then stalled in the second, then gained steadily in the third. With Rosie, I gained nothing in the first tri (so sick), gained really rapidly in the second, and then stalled a bit between 25-35 weeks. I panicked a bit both times because it wasn't a perfect linear progression. But your body does what it needs to do, and all you can do is eat as healthily as appetite allows, and be as active as you have the energy to be. Pregnancy and postpartum was/is redemptive for me in learning to trust how God made my body. With both kids, I lost 15 pounds right away, and the other 15 pounds seems to hang around for a good year. I'm in the middle of that now, but trusting and remembering that it goes away (fairly) easily when I start sleeping through the night again and having more energy during the day."
Really, though, other friends' answers were better for me to hear. Emily said that after having 4 babies, "I honestly feel more at home in my body even though it's a far cry from being in shape. After seeing the healthy humans I made, I see it in a much more positive light."
Alison's response stopped me in my tracks:
"I truly view my body differently since being pregnant and breastfeeding. Your body is literally giving life to another! That is so amazing! It definitely helps to put the gaining weight part of it into perspective. BUT it is still hard! And it's okay to feel those feelings of grief. Some seem to get right back to themselves after birth and that just wasn't me. I definitely hold onto weight while breastfeeding and my supply is very sensitive, so I couldn't make any big changes to my diet or activity level while nursing. I am done nursing [my second] and just now feel like I 'have my body back,' so to speak, after almost 4 years of being pregnant and breastfeeding.
They have been the most precious years and I obviously would not trade them for anything, but it doesn't mean that it's not hard to give that part of yourself up. But I'm learning, too, that that's motherhood! Giving of yourself over and over and over to your kids, but also finding time for self-care. And that looks different in every season. But in the early years I'm finding the 'giving up of yourself' is definitely heavy on the physical side! And I think the changes our bodies go through are kind of an outward representation of that sacrifice of our needs. But it's just a season."
I really loved her answer, and it gave voice to some of my thoughts about the giving of yourself. I feel like motherhood, for me, has really been a season of listening and learning and being patient. This is hard for me, as a verbal processor who likes to be bossy and know all the answers! But VERY slowly God is beginning to connect some of the dots for me. These body image thoughts have been rolling around for the past year and a half, ever since I got pregnant with Rosie, and they came full circle when I was listening to a podcast this morning and the conversation came around to body image in motherhood.
In the episode, Hannah Anderson says,
"Again, we have to go back to this definition of humility, as recognizing and honoring the difference between God as God, and our identity as created, limited creatures who are dependent on Him. If we have that frame, and we move to talk about our bodies, it’s amazing to realize that one of the very things that defines the difference between us and a transcendent God, is our physical bodies.
One of the catechisms that children often learn is, your God does not have a body. God is a spirit; He does not have a body. Even living within the boundaries of this physical flesh and bone is a limitation to begin with. Our bodies are our first reminder that we are not God. We fight this all the time, whether we’re skimping on sleep, or we’re skimping on food, or skimping on exercise, we’re essentially saying, “I don’t have to live within the boundaries of my physical body. I can live beyond them.” The first thing that humility teaches us about our body is that, it has been given to us to remind us of our limits. It is a walking, 24/7 reminder that we are not God.
But Christ, when he entered human flesh, He also elevated and honored it, so there is no shame in our bodies. We feel the shame because we feel the limitations, and we press against those limitations. We look at our body, we feel them decaying and we feel them breaking down, and we are, quite frankly, embarrassed by them. We are ashamed of them in ways that God is not ashamed of them. Jesus Christ was not ashamed to carry human flesh.
I find it fascinating that when He was raised from the dead, He was not ashamed to have marred flesh. He was not ashamed to carry the marks of love and sacrifice in His body. Again, this goes back to who are we listening to about our bodies? Jesus Christ is saying, “Your body is valuable and honoring and it’s been given to you to remind you of your limits, but also to make you dependent. It has been given to you to serve in sacrifice, and it’s going to carry marks.” That’s what Christ is telling us about our body. The world is telling us, “Your body is given to you to be a goddess. You are to transcend normal human limits...”
At the root, there is essential conflict of, who we are going to listen to? Are we going to listen to culture around us that tells us a broken, limited body is a shameful thing? Or are we going to listen to the voice of Christ who says, “Come to me, I’ve got the same kind of body? And mine’s as messed up as yours is.” Not what the world is saying is beautiful, but high honor and value and love the things that the world does not love. So humility frees us, again like you said, takes that burden off, when we’re seeing our bodies the way God sees them. We don’t feel the weight that the world is putting on us for our bodies.
[...]This has great potential for us to teach our children, and even our daughters, to honor what their bodies are, and will be. If you think about Christ coming back with wounds in His hands, it is these very wounds that He used to convince Thomas of His love, and to draw him to Himself. In many ways, whether we’re coming up in a swimsuit season, or whether we’re going to be outside more, and we can’t wear jeans and sweaters, all the time any more, we are going to be exposed. Yet it’s these very things that can be a connection, especially with our daughters to say, “Hey, this is where I carried you, this space.” ...Celebrating and honoring the same way Jesus said, “Come touch my hands. Come see it and believe that this was a good, valuable sacrifice. I am here and I did this for you.” We’re carrying a parallel kind of mark of sacrifice and love, and our children need to see that love embodied in us, rather than us shamefully covering and self condemning."
This really resonates with another podcast episode that I've been thinking about since I heard it last week. (Yeah I've been listening to a lot of podcasts lately. I need a different soundtrack in my head aside from kids crying and my own self-condemnation and frustration! It's good for me to listen and let truth wash over me without having to engage in conversation, or be heard, or interrupted.)
In this episode, Gloria Furman reminded me, "God is ONE. He is triune and he is one. There's no disunity in the eternal counsel in the Godhead. So he's ordained, designed, called, equipped, strengthens you, holds you accountable, and rewards you... He is not in conflict with himself. God has ordained THOSE kids, THIS marriage, THAT home, THIS financial situation and budget, THESE challenges, your weaknesses and your strengths, and he expects you to depend on Him for everything you need. His grace is sufficient for you. And he will give you what you need to persevere in your faith through all of that."
With that, I just heard the back door slam and Noah's running across the yard with a snack in his hand. But these are truths that I will be coming back to again and again. Nothing goes out from God and returns back empty, so I can rest assured that even these extra 15 pounds hold a purpose. They remind me that I'm not God, that I need him daily, and he has me here for a purpose.
Sunday, June 11, 2017
31 Weeks: Walking Weather (part 1)
Last week baby must've had a growth spurt because I was hungry at night again. But this week was pretty good, and I actually felt great physically. Noah and I got to talk a "wake-up walk" every day, and we took family bedtime walks most days, too. Noah turned three last Sunday! And he and I had a really sweet day on Monday, but the week went downhill from there, sleep and attitude-wise (for both of us, to be honest! What a long week.)
It's like I hit 31 weeks in this pregnancy and suddenly went from feeling really peaceful and excited to all-out panicked. The countdown is in the single digits and frankly, while I'm all about nesting and organizing and tangibly preparing for our new arrival, I'm terrified about the emotional aspects that I just can't prepare for. I know that I don't know what I don't know about having two kids. I don't know if I will ever be pregnant again after the next few weeks. I don't know if I'm mom enough to do the newborn phase WITH a toddler and be a good mom to both.
I'm also starting to panic about my days with Noah being numbered. I was so sick this winter that I feel like we lost a huge chunk of time together while I just survived. Are we over-scheduled? Have I spent enough intentional time with him in the past three years? Is fall preschool a bad idea? Am I a good mom? Will he still know I love him when I have to attend to an infant? Does he know we are adding to the family and not replacing him? Nothing like an existential crisis in the third trimester!
Then there's the pre-emptive mourning of time and sleep that will simply be lost. Some never to return again. Noah is thisclose to phasing out naps, and while his night sleep has been less than stellar during this pregnancy, it's still better than the first year of his life. Have I taken full advantage of nap times? Of the times he did go to bed at 7pm and stay in bed asleep (although that seems to be lost forever, at least while it's still light out at that hour)? That year between 18-36 months when he DID sleep in until 6:30am, why DIDN'T I wake up earlier to form a consistent habit of quiet time again? Agh!
Thankfully, with the morning walks and nap times I did get last week, I was able to *start* sorting through some of this anxiety that seemed to come out of nowhere. Possibly the biggest thing I'm currently regretting is never having formed a good habit of quiet time after Noah was born. I KNOW that peace is a person and that the presence of Christ will anchor me in the season ahead. Why am I not seeking it out now? For a long time after having my first baby, I was just surviving. Once I could kind of form a coherent thought, I went through a phase of beating myself up for not being able to focus when I did sit down, not "getting something out of it" like I used to, etc. So I would have "on" phases and "off" phases, always somehow trying to replicate the habit I was in before we moved around this time in my pregnancy with Noah. Which mostly looked like me waking up at 5:30am and taking 30-45 minutes to read a devotional, read my Bible, AND journal. Longer than that on the days I didn't work. Let's just say that magical morning quiet time has yet to make a re-appearance, and my discipline and capacity to maintain such an intense regimen at nap time has been lacking, to say the least.
And then... I have so many parenting books I still want to read. So many things I meant to do. What have I been doing with my spare time the past three years?! That's a rhetorical question, by the way. I know that by and large I did the best I could with what I knew at the time. I think about the (albeit part-time) work, the job changes, the hours and hours of studying for a new license, starting a new business or two... But I also think about the physical recovery. Coordinating all the appointments for a sick mama and a baby with some special needs. The postpartum anxiety. And heck, the normal, tumultuous, emotional adjustment to the role of motherhood!
Sure, I regret all the wasted hours on Facebook or Instagram, and I'm trying to replace that time with something slightly more beneficial, like reading a book for fun, listening to a podcast, or doing a 10 minute workout. Putting music on and dancing with Noah when we are both desperate for Papa to be home. Looking Noah in the eye and engaging when I most want to tune out. But in the grand scheme of things, I feel like I've done what I could do with my capacity in any given season over the past three years. And I'm currently reminding myself that there are so many seasons, even within this bigger (but still oh-so-short) season of the little years. Roughly every three months, things shift. I need to keep remembering that! And a lot of the time, it's okay for me to physically, mentally, and emotionally rest when I need to, to be able to get through the rest of the day. As long as I'm not looking at that physical rest as my inalienable right, and throwing a tantrum of my own when I don't get it.
I always tell people, Jesus is happy to meet you when you're at the end of the rope. I feel like motherhood is a constant battle between giving yourself grace, taking care of yourself so you're fit to take care of others, AND realizing any given day could go downhill in an instant for a million little reasons, and holding THAT with an open hand. It's about where my heart is much more than about where my time is spent. Although when my heart is in the right place, my time will be spent in the right place, too.
Anyway. All that to say, 'tis the season for morning walks and podcasts. My VERY favorite time of the year! Sunshine and encouragement before 9am. Walks have been SO GREAT this week as I muddle through this weird heart stuff.
Noah has not been sleeping a whole lot the past 25 weeks or so, so Ross and I haven't either. On Tuesday, I was in tears by the end of the day-- physically and emotionally exhausted. I expected this after baby, but not before! If I feel like this with one kid, how on earth am I going to make it through the day with two? Add to that the financial stress, the healthcare costs (our insurance changed pretty drastically since the last pregnancy), and the threat of the routine changing again (I thrive on routine), and I feel like I'm on very shaky ground.
Which is funny, because this morning one of the podcasts I listened to was a short devotional on Luke 6:46-49. Verses 46-48, in particular, struck me: "Why do you call me, 'Lord, Lord,' and do not do what I say? As for everyone who comes to me and hears my words AND puts them into practice, I will show you what they are like. They are like a man building a house, who DUG DOWN DEEP and laid the foundation on rock. When a flood came, the torrent struck that house but could not shake it, because it was well built."
WHEN the flood came, the torrent struck the house but COULD NOT SHAKE IT.
I hear God, and I know him as Lord, but I have NOT been putting his words into practice. I have not been digging down deep. This solidified what I've been sensing for the past two weeks: more than the freezer meals, more than the tidy house, more than the baby registry, what I need is to secure my foundation in Christ, because the storm is coming (let's all pray that it's like a passing afternoon thunderstorm in the Florida Keys and not the perma-mist of the Midwestern winter or the destruction of a hurricane). I've gotten my feet back under me since having Noah, and I've learned some deep truths along the way, but really ever since last fall, I've been surviving. And that's catching up to me. When I'm not drinking from the wellspring of life, I'm coming up empty, daily. As David Wilcox says, "We cannot trade empty for empty/We must go to the waterfall/For there's a break in the cup that holds love/Inside us all."
On the same note, a few weeks ago, I was listening to this hymn over and over again:
All my life long I had panted for a drink from some cool spring
That I hoped would quench the burning of the thirst I felt within
Hallelujah! He has found me, the One my soul so long has craved!
Jesus satisfies all my longing, through his blood I now am saved.
[...]Well of water ever springing, Bread of Life so rich and free
Untold wealth that never faileth, my Redeemer is to me
Hallelujah! He has found me, the One my soul so long has craved!
Jesus satisfies all my longing, through his blood I now am saved.
THEN because God really wants to hammer this into me, the point was reiterated in this podcast: Hello Mornings Episode 4: How to Begin and Build a Brilliant Morning. Heather and Kat talk a bit about a "three minute morning" routine, with God, Plan, and Move time. Basically, it's getting yourself moving in the direction you want to go. Action over perfection. Start with literally three minutes. One in which you meditate on a Bible verse like Psalm 143:8. One in which you glance at your calendar and pray about what you can and should do in your day with the schedule you have. And one minute to drink a glass of water. This is starting a routine. A bare minimum. It doesn't feel like a lot, but when the alternative is nothing, it's moving in the right direction! It doesn't matter if three years ago I was starting my day with 45 minutes of prayer, journaling, and Bible reading!
They also talk about other ways to build some momentum for change in your routine when your current routine, or lack thereof, isn't working and you're burnt out and not sure where to start (track, trade, and try, for example). But what really got me is when Heather said, "If you have a mentality that you're a pitcher of water, and you're having your quiet time in the morning to be filled up to pour out, you will have the idea that it has to be hours and hours and hours, because I know how much I pour out in my day. But if you view it as that time in the morning as me being reminded of my position in Christ, Christ in me, He is a River of Life, Flowing Water, Never-ending Source, and I'm getting plugged in there, so that His love can pour THROUGH me (not from me) to those in my environment, then it doesn't matter if it's a minute, an hour, two hours... you're never going to get filled up enough for the amount that you are getting poured out in your day, wherever you are. You will run out if it's all dependent on you being the source." Starting my day in communion with God will remind me where I stand, and whose I am, so I don't spend my day bemoaning what I lack externally or internally.
I want to write about two more podcast episodes that I found really encouraging this week, but the above ones really reminded me again that I can do the mom thing THROUGH Christ, who gives me strength. The newborn months are just going to give me some really sweet opportunities to rely heavily on that truth again. And in the meantime, I'm praying that God will help me enjoy the next few weeks of Mama and Noah time, and the quiet moments of kicks and hiccups with this sweet baby inside me.
It's like I hit 31 weeks in this pregnancy and suddenly went from feeling really peaceful and excited to all-out panicked. The countdown is in the single digits and frankly, while I'm all about nesting and organizing and tangibly preparing for our new arrival, I'm terrified about the emotional aspects that I just can't prepare for. I know that I don't know what I don't know about having two kids. I don't know if I will ever be pregnant again after the next few weeks. I don't know if I'm mom enough to do the newborn phase WITH a toddler and be a good mom to both.
I'm also starting to panic about my days with Noah being numbered. I was so sick this winter that I feel like we lost a huge chunk of time together while I just survived. Are we over-scheduled? Have I spent enough intentional time with him in the past three years? Is fall preschool a bad idea? Am I a good mom? Will he still know I love him when I have to attend to an infant? Does he know we are adding to the family and not replacing him? Nothing like an existential crisis in the third trimester!
Then there's the pre-emptive mourning of time and sleep that will simply be lost. Some never to return again. Noah is thisclose to phasing out naps, and while his night sleep has been less than stellar during this pregnancy, it's still better than the first year of his life. Have I taken full advantage of nap times? Of the times he did go to bed at 7pm and stay in bed asleep (although that seems to be lost forever, at least while it's still light out at that hour)? That year between 18-36 months when he DID sleep in until 6:30am, why DIDN'T I wake up earlier to form a consistent habit of quiet time again? Agh!
Thankfully, with the morning walks and nap times I did get last week, I was able to *start* sorting through some of this anxiety that seemed to come out of nowhere. Possibly the biggest thing I'm currently regretting is never having formed a good habit of quiet time after Noah was born. I KNOW that peace is a person and that the presence of Christ will anchor me in the season ahead. Why am I not seeking it out now? For a long time after having my first baby, I was just surviving. Once I could kind of form a coherent thought, I went through a phase of beating myself up for not being able to focus when I did sit down, not "getting something out of it" like I used to, etc. So I would have "on" phases and "off" phases, always somehow trying to replicate the habit I was in before we moved around this time in my pregnancy with Noah. Which mostly looked like me waking up at 5:30am and taking 30-45 minutes to read a devotional, read my Bible, AND journal. Longer than that on the days I didn't work. Let's just say that magical morning quiet time has yet to make a re-appearance, and my discipline and capacity to maintain such an intense regimen at nap time has been lacking, to say the least.
And then... I have so many parenting books I still want to read. So many things I meant to do. What have I been doing with my spare time the past three years?! That's a rhetorical question, by the way. I know that by and large I did the best I could with what I knew at the time. I think about the (albeit part-time) work, the job changes, the hours and hours of studying for a new license, starting a new business or two... But I also think about the physical recovery. Coordinating all the appointments for a sick mama and a baby with some special needs. The postpartum anxiety. And heck, the normal, tumultuous, emotional adjustment to the role of motherhood!
Sure, I regret all the wasted hours on Facebook or Instagram, and I'm trying to replace that time with something slightly more beneficial, like reading a book for fun, listening to a podcast, or doing a 10 minute workout. Putting music on and dancing with Noah when we are both desperate for Papa to be home. Looking Noah in the eye and engaging when I most want to tune out. But in the grand scheme of things, I feel like I've done what I could do with my capacity in any given season over the past three years. And I'm currently reminding myself that there are so many seasons, even within this bigger (but still oh-so-short) season of the little years. Roughly every three months, things shift. I need to keep remembering that! And a lot of the time, it's okay for me to physically, mentally, and emotionally rest when I need to, to be able to get through the rest of the day. As long as I'm not looking at that physical rest as my inalienable right, and throwing a tantrum of my own when I don't get it.
I always tell people, Jesus is happy to meet you when you're at the end of the rope. I feel like motherhood is a constant battle between giving yourself grace, taking care of yourself so you're fit to take care of others, AND realizing any given day could go downhill in an instant for a million little reasons, and holding THAT with an open hand. It's about where my heart is much more than about where my time is spent. Although when my heart is in the right place, my time will be spent in the right place, too.
Anyway. All that to say, 'tis the season for morning walks and podcasts. My VERY favorite time of the year! Sunshine and encouragement before 9am. Walks have been SO GREAT this week as I muddle through this weird heart stuff.
Noah has not been sleeping a whole lot the past 25 weeks or so, so Ross and I haven't either. On Tuesday, I was in tears by the end of the day-- physically and emotionally exhausted. I expected this after baby, but not before! If I feel like this with one kid, how on earth am I going to make it through the day with two? Add to that the financial stress, the healthcare costs (our insurance changed pretty drastically since the last pregnancy), and the threat of the routine changing again (I thrive on routine), and I feel like I'm on very shaky ground.
Which is funny, because this morning one of the podcasts I listened to was a short devotional on Luke 6:46-49. Verses 46-48, in particular, struck me: "Why do you call me, 'Lord, Lord,' and do not do what I say? As for everyone who comes to me and hears my words AND puts them into practice, I will show you what they are like. They are like a man building a house, who DUG DOWN DEEP and laid the foundation on rock. When a flood came, the torrent struck that house but could not shake it, because it was well built."
WHEN the flood came, the torrent struck the house but COULD NOT SHAKE IT.
I hear God, and I know him as Lord, but I have NOT been putting his words into practice. I have not been digging down deep. This solidified what I've been sensing for the past two weeks: more than the freezer meals, more than the tidy house, more than the baby registry, what I need is to secure my foundation in Christ, because the storm is coming (let's all pray that it's like a passing afternoon thunderstorm in the Florida Keys and not the perma-mist of the Midwestern winter or the destruction of a hurricane). I've gotten my feet back under me since having Noah, and I've learned some deep truths along the way, but really ever since last fall, I've been surviving. And that's catching up to me. When I'm not drinking from the wellspring of life, I'm coming up empty, daily. As David Wilcox says, "We cannot trade empty for empty/We must go to the waterfall/For there's a break in the cup that holds love/Inside us all."
On the same note, a few weeks ago, I was listening to this hymn over and over again:
All my life long I had panted for a drink from some cool spring
That I hoped would quench the burning of the thirst I felt within
Hallelujah! He has found me, the One my soul so long has craved!
Jesus satisfies all my longing, through his blood I now am saved.
[...]Well of water ever springing, Bread of Life so rich and free
Untold wealth that never faileth, my Redeemer is to me
Hallelujah! He has found me, the One my soul so long has craved!
Jesus satisfies all my longing, through his blood I now am saved.
THEN because God really wants to hammer this into me, the point was reiterated in this podcast: Hello Mornings Episode 4: How to Begin and Build a Brilliant Morning. Heather and Kat talk a bit about a "three minute morning" routine, with God, Plan, and Move time. Basically, it's getting yourself moving in the direction you want to go. Action over perfection. Start with literally three minutes. One in which you meditate on a Bible verse like Psalm 143:8. One in which you glance at your calendar and pray about what you can and should do in your day with the schedule you have. And one minute to drink a glass of water. This is starting a routine. A bare minimum. It doesn't feel like a lot, but when the alternative is nothing, it's moving in the right direction! It doesn't matter if three years ago I was starting my day with 45 minutes of prayer, journaling, and Bible reading!
They also talk about other ways to build some momentum for change in your routine when your current routine, or lack thereof, isn't working and you're burnt out and not sure where to start (track, trade, and try, for example). But what really got me is when Heather said, "If you have a mentality that you're a pitcher of water, and you're having your quiet time in the morning to be filled up to pour out, you will have the idea that it has to be hours and hours and hours, because I know how much I pour out in my day. But if you view it as that time in the morning as me being reminded of my position in Christ, Christ in me, He is a River of Life, Flowing Water, Never-ending Source, and I'm getting plugged in there, so that His love can pour THROUGH me (not from me) to those in my environment, then it doesn't matter if it's a minute, an hour, two hours... you're never going to get filled up enough for the amount that you are getting poured out in your day, wherever you are. You will run out if it's all dependent on you being the source." Starting my day in communion with God will remind me where I stand, and whose I am, so I don't spend my day bemoaning what I lack externally or internally.
I want to write about two more podcast episodes that I found really encouraging this week, but the above ones really reminded me again that I can do the mom thing THROUGH Christ, who gives me strength. The newborn months are just going to give me some really sweet opportunities to rely heavily on that truth again. And in the meantime, I'm praying that God will help me enjoy the next few weeks of Mama and Noah time, and the quiet moments of kicks and hiccups with this sweet baby inside me.
Friday, September 30, 2016
The Power to Make it Through the Day (Part II)
In the last post, I talked about how I was really convicted about needing to re-start spending very intentional time with God. I feel the need, I feel the call, but I'm not sure how to put it into action. Noah weaned (WOW emotions), he started potty training, then he got his first stitches, my computer broke, then we went through a few weeks of "terrible two" behavior requiring reinforced discipline, then my pain flared up. August and September got the best of me, which is why I had my initial "aha" moment early this summer, and I'm just now processing it at the END of September!
(How is it the end of September!?)
Except... it's not really like that, I guess. It's not like nothing's been happening in my heart. I've been reading, I started seeing a new counselor, I've been reaching out in friendship more, I've been talking to Ross about not assuming the worst of people (especially of my spouse). I recognize the void, and I guess I've spent the last few months really feeling it out. This is how far and how wide and how far-reaching it goes: the absence of God in my life touches everything.
God is in constant pursuit of me, and the last 5 years of my life have been spent letting go of how I thought my story should go, softening, changing, and realizing this is God's story. In fact, sometimes I go through this entire range of emotions in a 24 hour period! Marriage, miscarriage, and motherhood have continued to refine me this past year, possibly more than ever. Which is funny, because I thought my marriage falling apart in 2012 was the biggest upheaval my life would ever see.
Anyway, I'm starting to feel like I'm moving into a new season. I'll always need to be letting go of little idols and expectations, yet I can't help but think that this new season is more about taking hold and standing firm than it is about letting go. Taking hold of the promises of God. Taking responsibility for my thoughts, feelings and actions, and actively sifting the good from the bad. Using my time wisely. Standing firm in the faith to which I have been called.
With these thoughts floating around in my head, I started reading Present Over Perfect by Shauna Niequist, and this image caught my attention early on in the book.
This really captures my imagination because the other week, I was at work and Ross texted me a picture of this exact thing: someone's house on stilts, while they added a basement beneath! Of course, he sent that picture to tease me about our own never-ending renovations, joking that we should do this next. All I could think of was how horrifically disruptive and expensive it would be. (But I entertained it for about a second because our moldy crawl space drives me nuts.)
Anyway, when I read Shauna's words, they really had an effect: how horrifically disruptive this would be! Followed swiftly by the thought, I need a change in my life, internally. For so long, the tidal waves of disruption have come from the outside. This is gracious, in a sense, because my external circumstances have spurred internal heart-change that might never have happened otherwise. But... what if this time the disruption could be my own? What if I was able to see: this is where I want to be, and this is where I am, and I can't carry myself from here to there on willpower or passage of time alone.
As I sit here thinking, dare I say? The waters have stilled a bit. I've caught my breath. I look at life very differently than I did 5, 10, 15 years ago. For better and for worse. I love my life, truly. I'm so happy that the avalanche of all the things led me here. I love being a mom. I love my job at the hospital (the ninth job in as many years-- although many of them overlapped-- and the fourth job in 2 years). I love that I'm about a million times less anxious than I was this time last year. I love that my laughter overrides my anger more often than not when I'm home all day with a toddler. I feel softer, in a lot of ways. So many of these changes have been necessary in my life, but I feel like I've taken them as far as they can go. The house (literally and metaphorically) has been organized and tidied, and now... maybe... it's time to begin addressing the foundation so I'm on solid ground when the next storm hits.
I've come a long way AND I have a long way to go. These two things will always be true.
(How is it the end of September!?)
Except... it's not really like that, I guess. It's not like nothing's been happening in my heart. I've been reading, I started seeing a new counselor, I've been reaching out in friendship more, I've been talking to Ross about not assuming the worst of people (especially of my spouse). I recognize the void, and I guess I've spent the last few months really feeling it out. This is how far and how wide and how far-reaching it goes: the absence of God in my life touches everything.
God is in constant pursuit of me, and the last 5 years of my life have been spent letting go of how I thought my story should go, softening, changing, and realizing this is God's story. In fact, sometimes I go through this entire range of emotions in a 24 hour period! Marriage, miscarriage, and motherhood have continued to refine me this past year, possibly more than ever. Which is funny, because I thought my marriage falling apart in 2012 was the biggest upheaval my life would ever see.
Anyway, I'm starting to feel like I'm moving into a new season. I'll always need to be letting go of little idols and expectations, yet I can't help but think that this new season is more about taking hold and standing firm than it is about letting go. Taking hold of the promises of God. Taking responsibility for my thoughts, feelings and actions, and actively sifting the good from the bad. Using my time wisely. Standing firm in the faith to which I have been called.
With these thoughts floating around in my head, I started reading Present Over Perfect by Shauna Niequist, and this image caught my attention early on in the book.
I loved my life, but I had become someone I didn't want to be around. I had become someone I didn't want to be. This book is an account of my winding, messy journey from exhaustion to peace, from isolation to connection, from hustling and multitasking to sacred presence... The greatest, most challenging, most rewarding sea-change of my adult life.
I had no idea what it meant to remake my life from the inside out. Now, more than three years later, I'm so deeply thankful to look back and realize that's just what I've done, although in the twistiest, most circuitous possible way. I tried all the outside ways first-- I imagined the changes I needed to make were about time management, or perhaps having the cleaners come more often. I quickly found it was not about managing time or housekeeping. It was not about to-do lists or scheduling minutes and hours. This journey has been about love, about worth, about God, about what it means to know him and be loved by him in a way that grounds and reorders everything.
It IS work, of course. It feels, I'd imagine, like adding a basement to a house that's already been standing for decades. I thought it would be more like adding new shutters, but I'm finding it to be more like lifting up a home and starting to dig, re-orienting the very foundation. There is nothing superficial about this process.
This really captures my imagination because the other week, I was at work and Ross texted me a picture of this exact thing: someone's house on stilts, while they added a basement beneath! Of course, he sent that picture to tease me about our own never-ending renovations, joking that we should do this next. All I could think of was how horrifically disruptive and expensive it would be. (But I entertained it for about a second because our moldy crawl space drives me nuts.)
Anyway, when I read Shauna's words, they really had an effect: how horrifically disruptive this would be! Followed swiftly by the thought, I need a change in my life, internally. For so long, the tidal waves of disruption have come from the outside. This is gracious, in a sense, because my external circumstances have spurred internal heart-change that might never have happened otherwise. But... what if this time the disruption could be my own? What if I was able to see: this is where I want to be, and this is where I am, and I can't carry myself from here to there on willpower or passage of time alone.
As I sit here thinking, dare I say? The waters have stilled a bit. I've caught my breath. I look at life very differently than I did 5, 10, 15 years ago. For better and for worse. I love my life, truly. I'm so happy that the avalanche of all the things led me here. I love being a mom. I love my job at the hospital (the ninth job in as many years-- although many of them overlapped-- and the fourth job in 2 years). I love that I'm about a million times less anxious than I was this time last year. I love that my laughter overrides my anger more often than not when I'm home all day with a toddler. I feel softer, in a lot of ways. So many of these changes have been necessary in my life, but I feel like I've taken them as far as they can go. The house (literally and metaphorically) has been organized and tidied, and now... maybe... it's time to begin addressing the foundation so I'm on solid ground when the next storm hits.
I've come a long way AND I have a long way to go. These two things will always be true.
Friday, September 23, 2016
The Power to Make it Through the Day (Part I)
I have a few podcasts that I love listening to on morning walks. It's like listening to an older, wiser friend without having to chime in or fear mom judgement. I have plenty of favorite episodes from a few different women, but Episode 21 of Mom Struggling Well has been so applicable to my life the last few months, that I finally decided to write down the bits that really spoke to me.
In it, Kristin Lemus is talking about how God's truth applies to her motherhood:
The interviewer asks, "So what does that look like today? What is that process?"
"So what does that look like for you on a daily basis?"
----
Wow. Right? I've been playing it over and over, and this is what stops me in my tracks every time:
"What I felt like was happening is that advice robbed me of the power that I needed to actually make it through my day. If we miss (quiet time)... grace grace grace! However. If we do take that time, make that effort, make it a priority, give him our best and our first, He meets us there and equips us."
That line massively convicted me. I remember being so entrenched in my morning quiet time routine early in my pregnancy with Noah. I needed it. I thrived off of it. But once we moved, I lost my footing, my routine, my safe space so to speak. I didn't feel comfortable just sitting in the middle of someone else's living room with my books and journals everywhere. I guess I should've known that when you have a baby, you have no personal space! Moving just accelerated that process a bit.
Anyway, I remember asking friends how they did quiet time with a newborn. A few told me that they read a Bible app or something while nursing, but with Noah's tongue tie, and my back pain, nursing was always a two-handed process for us. Others, of course, told me to give myself grace and speak to God throughout my day and know that eventually I would find a new routine. Well I did the first part, but I never really did the work of looking for a new routine beyond a few halfhearted streaks of naptime devotions here and there. I did lots of talking to God, but not much listening. And like Kristin says above, a lot of my talking was the 'gospel' truth of, "I'm so tired, I'm so overwhelmed, I'm so bad at this, once I get on top of my life things will be better."
Now I've reached the point where I'm potentially the most "on top" things I will ever be (ha!) and I'm feeling that God-time void. My mind is running in a million different directions, and I'm constantly choosing to "just clean up" of "just do a quick workout" or "just get some sleep" ahead of choosing to spend time with God. How will I get to know Him without spending time with him? I won't!
In it, Kristin Lemus is talking about how God's truth applies to her motherhood:
I really struggled, for the longest time, with feeling like a bad mom... I would have days where I'd get to the end of the day, and I would just be exhausted, my kids were whiny, things didn't go right, potty training struggles, whatever it is. And I would be like, 'I am such a bad mom. I can't get it together, I can't get organized. I'm not spending time playing with my kids...' whatever the thoughts were. I kept feeling overwhelmed with motherhood. I'm thinking, 'at some point I should be able to figure this out and get on top of it.'
One day, I just hit my limit... I was talking to my husband and I was just like, 'I'm such a bad mom, I got upset with the kids today. I don't know how to overcome these feelings.' I knew in my head I wasn't supposed to feel like this, I just didn't know the way out. I just felt stuck.
...I started talking to God the way I'd been talking to my husband: 'I am such a bad mom and I don't know what to do about it. I don't know the answer!' And I just heard His voice in the moment: Who says you're a bad mom? I don't say you're a bad mom! When I created everything, I looked over all of it and declared that it was good. I designed you. I made you a mom. And I declare that you are good. Instead of confessing all those other things, like 'I am so overwhelmed,' begin to confess that 'I'm a good mom because God calls me that'... Take the bad thoughts captive and you will begin to become what you are confessing. It was a process, but it totally transformed my life and my mothering...
The interviewer asks, "So what does that look like today? What is that process?"
It's really so much about taking our thoughts captive, because the enemy wants to come in and speak to us in those moments when we are feeling all those overwhelmed feelings... It's a matter of stopping them and saying, 'No! I'm not going to choose to agree with that. I'm going to choose to agree with what God says about me.' ...You hear those negative things super quick. But the more you combat it, the faster you get at it, and the less power that it has over you. It's a matter of putting it into practice."What weapons are you fighting with and how did you make them accessible?"
I started to dig into God's word... Scripture about who God says I am, and about God's love... I had to read His Word more intentionally and write those things down and memorize those scriptures, so that it was in me. So when the opposite was coming toward me, I had something to fight it off with.
The other thing I've learned, is just spending time with Him in His presence, it makes such a huge difference. The Bible says that the same power that rose Christ from the dead lives inside of us! The Holy Spirit is so willing to give us the power we need to overcome these things. He wants to equip us and strengthen us, and his fruit is so good, and so sweet, and so powerful, and that's what we want to be as moms. We want to be loving, and kind, and have self control, and all of those things that are the fruit of the spirit. But the only way we get that is by spending time with Him and becoming friends with Him, and letting Him work those things in us. The more we do that, the more it is in us and comes out of us.
"So what does that look like for you on a daily basis?"
So I used to be the person who was like, 'I have to get up super early in the morning, and I have to have my quiet time now or it doesn't count.' ...I'm so not that person anymore. I feel like God has taken me through a lot of seasons. There have been some seasons where I felt like He's said, I want you up early before everyone else, and then there have been other seasons where he's like, I want you to rest and spend time with me later.
But I will say this... when I was a really young mom, I had a lot of voices around me telling me, 'God has so much grace for you,' and 'Don't worry about when you get your quiet time in... just pray in the shower!' And I totally soaked that up. I'm like, 'I need all the grace I can get! I can barely breathe, I'm lucky if I get a shower...' So that was what I lived by.
But now, honestly, I'm a little frustrated by that advice. It's not that God doesn't have soooo much grace for us. He's not gonna come and whack us over the head if we don't spend time with him every day. BUT what I felt like was happening is that advice robbed me of the power that I needed to actually make it through my day! If we miss it, grace grace grace! However. If we do take that time, make that effort, make it a priority, give Him our best and our first, He meets us there and equips us. I just thing that's so powerful... I finally figured this out with my fourth kid, and I remember saying, 'I don't care how tired I am, I'm gonna spend some time right now praying and reading God's word and asking Him to speak to me, and listening.' That was such an incredible time. And it changed my mothering.
I would challenge women to make it a priority. Like I said, there's always grace. But we need this! It's like the oxygen for our day. It's so life-giving. Mothering is so tough, but there really is this power that comes from the Holy Spirit. He really does want to help us to have self-control and be loving and kind. It's a process, but giving him our priority is such a huge thing.
...Take time to speak and pray and be still and listen and read his word... He spoke the world into existence, right? He's the Creator. So when He speaks, it's creating something. When He's speaking peace into your life, He's creating peace. Whatever it is, he's actually creating that very thing in your life. It's so life-giving.
----
Wow. Right? I've been playing it over and over, and this is what stops me in my tracks every time:
"What I felt like was happening is that advice robbed me of the power that I needed to actually make it through my day. If we miss (quiet time)... grace grace grace! However. If we do take that time, make that effort, make it a priority, give him our best and our first, He meets us there and equips us."
That line massively convicted me. I remember being so entrenched in my morning quiet time routine early in my pregnancy with Noah. I needed it. I thrived off of it. But once we moved, I lost my footing, my routine, my safe space so to speak. I didn't feel comfortable just sitting in the middle of someone else's living room with my books and journals everywhere. I guess I should've known that when you have a baby, you have no personal space! Moving just accelerated that process a bit.
Anyway, I remember asking friends how they did quiet time with a newborn. A few told me that they read a Bible app or something while nursing, but with Noah's tongue tie, and my back pain, nursing was always a two-handed process for us. Others, of course, told me to give myself grace and speak to God throughout my day and know that eventually I would find a new routine. Well I did the first part, but I never really did the work of looking for a new routine beyond a few halfhearted streaks of naptime devotions here and there. I did lots of talking to God, but not much listening. And like Kristin says above, a lot of my talking was the 'gospel' truth of, "I'm so tired, I'm so overwhelmed, I'm so bad at this, once I get on top of my life things will be better."
Now I've reached the point where I'm potentially the most "on top" things I will ever be (ha!) and I'm feeling that God-time void. My mind is running in a million different directions, and I'm constantly choosing to "just clean up" of "just do a quick workout" or "just get some sleep" ahead of choosing to spend time with God. How will I get to know Him without spending time with him? I won't!
Monday, March 2, 2015
Extravagant Grace
The last few years, I haven't given something up for Lent because I was already going through a lot. This year, I need to get out of my comfort zone myself. To remove the crutches and look to God to fill that void instead. To find energy, peace, and comfort in the Creator and not the created.
So, for the first time in a long, long time, I gave something up for Lent. Like truly gave it up. And I've been "good" about it. Except, well, I'm finding that I can follow the letter of the law but not the spirit of it. I don't know why I'm surprised.
I'm reading Extravagant Grace with some friends and this page stood out to me today (emphasis mine):
I love, love, love this reminder.
So, for the first time in a long, long time, I gave something up for Lent. Like truly gave it up. And I've been "good" about it. Except, well, I'm finding that I can follow the letter of the law but not the spirit of it. I don't know why I'm surprised.
I'm reading Extravagant Grace with some friends and this page stood out to me today (emphasis mine):
...When the Disney message is loudly proclaimed from the pulpits of well-meaning, Bible-believing churches, it is devastating to God's people. It tells us that if we just have enough faith, we can do or be anything we want to. We may not succumb to the crassest form of this belief that infects many churches, the form that teaches that our faith can make us healthy and wealthy. Yet we often buy into a more subtle form of the same malady. We really believe that if we have enough faith and try really, really hard that we can stop sinning and be just like Jesus. We are taught that it is within our power to allow or inhibit God's work of sanctification in our lives, so that our progress in personal holiness is up to us. If we try harder and cooperate with God, we can succeed and achieve virtual perfection, becoming spiritual princes and princesses. If we choose not to be fully committed to God, however, he is powerless to change us and can't possibly bless us as he longs to do.
That view ascribes fast too much power to people who are actually very weak and fully of sin. God planned it this way, remember? He could have made us strong or even perfect the moment he saved each of us, but he didn't. Instead he sent his Spirit to take up residence in people who are still bound to sinful flesh and full of remaining sin. As God calls us to obedience, he remembers that we are only dust, but we keep forgetting. We think that with a wish, a sprinkle of fairy dust, a great quiet time, and some prayer, we can all be spiritual heroes and do great things for God. We couldn't be more wrong, and as a result, we are devastated when reality crashes into fantasy day after grueling day.
I love, love, love this reminder.
Wednesday, December 3, 2014
A Weary World Rejoices
Advent has begun again, and it has wonderfully, beautifully, coincided with a brief period of rest in my soul. Rest that has been much-desired, but ever-elusive for the past year.
The first 3-4 months after Noah was born, I was in constant physical pain, exacerbated by the constant anxiety I had about my baby. About everything in general, but sleep in particular. It seemed like my days revolved around hour-long feeding sessions and a brief period of "play," after which I would spend 45+ minutes getting him to sleep, only to get a 25 minute nap out of him. Seriously, for the month of November, you could set a clock by those catnaps. It was just long enough to go to the bathroom, change into real clothes (sometimes) and eat a meal. I was so discouraged. In so much pain. I felt like the worst mom ever. I was so drawn to the need to seek God in His Word, but too tired to do so.
We've also had this background of financial strain that was causing me to blame myself for not continuing to earn a full-time income. For the past 2 years, we've intentionally lived on Ross' salary plus about 20% of my income, in preparation for this very season. We paid off our debts. We bought a reasonable house. (Well, reasonable mortgage-wise. Don't get me started on renovations again.) We thought we were prepared since we've lived on this income for a while, but suddenly it's different. It's different knowing we can't draw from the savings account here and there. And we just did not anticipate hefty out-of-network physical therapy bills. Circumcisions. Hearing aids. I mean, we anticipated some of those things, but we didn't realize that we'd end up paying so much more than just our insurance deductible.
I just physically couldn't find it in me to work more night shifts when I'm already getting so little sleep, so I looked around and found an opportunity to take an 8-week day shift travel nursing assignment in an Omaha NICU. Perfect, right?! It would've been 8 really exhausting weeks, working full-time in Omaha and still fulfilling my PRN obligations here. But I would've had free childcare there, and I would've made in 8 weeks what it will currently take me 8 months to earn as a PRN nurse. It would've been a huge financial blessing. But after thinking and praying (and spending a night in Omaha where I was up EVERY HOUR with Noah) I said no. And WOW. We've been so blessed by that NO. The first good career decision I've made in a really long time!
Because after a few weeks of some sort of developmental and physical growth spurt, this week has been a breath of fresh air. KNOCK ON WOOD we are back to just one nighttime feeding around 3am (instead of 10pm and 1am and 4am and 5:30am...). And-- drumroll please-- we have a NAPPER** at long last! Seriously. 6 months in the making.
I'm more aware than ever of the cyclical nature of having a baby. Weeks of crazy growth and weeks of rest. I'm learning that maybe God's calling me into the same rhythm. Instead of just surviving those crazy weeks, I want to be able to dig in. Be present.
I've written myself a note above Noah's changing table: You chose to be here, so BE HERE. When those crazy weeks circle around again, I want to be ready. And that means while this kid is taking two naps a day, before he outgrows the swing, you better believe I'm resting when he's resting. I'm actually doing daily devotionals. I'm reading for fun. Sometimes I'm even napping! I'm still doing small chores, and when Ross comes home I catch up on laundry and make dinner and whatnot, but seriously. When Noah is resting, I'm going to rest, and I don't even feel bad about it. It's so, so needed. I had no idea having just one child would be this hard, so I'm stocking up. Stocking up, so that when it's time to dig in again, I won't feel so depleted. Because I love this baby with my whole heart. And I want to be present to cherish his baby-hood while it lasts!
**The last few weeks, instead of eat/play/sleep, we've settled into an eat/play/eat/sleep routine. We also started putting him in a swing for naps (to lull him back to sleep when he wakes up at the 25 minute mark). He's fallen into a fairly predictable 1+ hour morning nap around 8 or 9am, and an afternoon nap that still varies considerably. I don't know if the schedule change helped, or if the swing helped, or if he finally just reached a developmental ability to nap, but I cannot even express how WONDERFUL baby naps are! Poor guy was so overtired. And so was I!
The first 3-4 months after Noah was born, I was in constant physical pain, exacerbated by the constant anxiety I had about my baby. About everything in general, but sleep in particular. It seemed like my days revolved around hour-long feeding sessions and a brief period of "play," after which I would spend 45+ minutes getting him to sleep, only to get a 25 minute nap out of him. Seriously, for the month of November, you could set a clock by those catnaps. It was just long enough to go to the bathroom, change into real clothes (sometimes) and eat a meal. I was so discouraged. In so much pain. I felt like the worst mom ever. I was so drawn to the need to seek God in His Word, but too tired to do so.
We've also had this background of financial strain that was causing me to blame myself for not continuing to earn a full-time income. For the past 2 years, we've intentionally lived on Ross' salary plus about 20% of my income, in preparation for this very season. We paid off our debts. We bought a reasonable house. (Well, reasonable mortgage-wise. Don't get me started on renovations again.) We thought we were prepared since we've lived on this income for a while, but suddenly it's different. It's different knowing we can't draw from the savings account here and there. And we just did not anticipate hefty out-of-network physical therapy bills. Circumcisions. Hearing aids. I mean, we anticipated some of those things, but we didn't realize that we'd end up paying so much more than just our insurance deductible.
I just physically couldn't find it in me to work more night shifts when I'm already getting so little sleep, so I looked around and found an opportunity to take an 8-week day shift travel nursing assignment in an Omaha NICU. Perfect, right?! It would've been 8 really exhausting weeks, working full-time in Omaha and still fulfilling my PRN obligations here. But I would've had free childcare there, and I would've made in 8 weeks what it will currently take me 8 months to earn as a PRN nurse. It would've been a huge financial blessing. But after thinking and praying (and spending a night in Omaha where I was up EVERY HOUR with Noah) I said no. And WOW. We've been so blessed by that NO. The first good career decision I've made in a really long time!
Because after a few weeks of some sort of developmental and physical growth spurt, this week has been a breath of fresh air. KNOCK ON WOOD we are back to just one nighttime feeding around 3am (instead of 10pm and 1am and 4am and 5:30am...). And-- drumroll please-- we have a NAPPER** at long last! Seriously. 6 months in the making.
I'm more aware than ever of the cyclical nature of having a baby. Weeks of crazy growth and weeks of rest. I'm learning that maybe God's calling me into the same rhythm. Instead of just surviving those crazy weeks, I want to be able to dig in. Be present.
I've written myself a note above Noah's changing table: You chose to be here, so BE HERE. When those crazy weeks circle around again, I want to be ready. And that means while this kid is taking two naps a day, before he outgrows the swing, you better believe I'm resting when he's resting. I'm actually doing daily devotionals. I'm reading for fun. Sometimes I'm even napping! I'm still doing small chores, and when Ross comes home I catch up on laundry and make dinner and whatnot, but seriously. When Noah is resting, I'm going to rest, and I don't even feel bad about it. It's so, so needed. I had no idea having just one child would be this hard, so I'm stocking up. Stocking up, so that when it's time to dig in again, I won't feel so depleted. Because I love this baby with my whole heart. And I want to be present to cherish his baby-hood while it lasts!
Oh holy night!
The stars are brightly shining
It is the night of the dear Savior's birth!
Long lay the world in sin and error pining
Till he appear'd and the soul felt its worth.
A thrill of hope the weary world rejoices
For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn!
Fall on your knees
Oh hear the angel voices
Oh night divine
Oh night when Christ was born
Oh night divine
Oh night divine
**The last few weeks, instead of eat/play/sleep, we've settled into an eat/play/eat/sleep routine. We also started putting him in a swing for naps (to lull him back to sleep when he wakes up at the 25 minute mark). He's fallen into a fairly predictable 1+ hour morning nap around 8 or 9am, and an afternoon nap that still varies considerably. I don't know if the schedule change helped, or if the swing helped, or if he finally just reached a developmental ability to nap, but I cannot even express how WONDERFUL baby naps are! Poor guy was so overtired. And so was I!
Wednesday, November 12, 2014
If I Could Tell Myself
I think those first few months of new-parent-hood were clouded by hormones and fatigue, yes, but also by pain. Until a few weeks ago, I truly thought I was never going to physically recover from childbirth. Thank GOD for modern medicine and the fact that I'm finally, slowly, on the mend.
I don't think you can outsmart those early hormones, but wow, those early days were so hard, and I was only dealing with mostly run-of-the-mill baby issues! I didn't have any perspective and I think I just thought things would be that hard forever. If I could just look back at myself at 8 weeks, I'd tell that poor girl so much:
1.) Go to physical therapy NOW. If 8 weeks postpartum feels a whole lot like 8 days postpartum, don't wait for the pain to get better! It obviously isn't improving on its own.
2.) Go to the pain management OBGYN NOW. See above.
3.) Someday, sooner than you think, you will be able to eat dinner with your husband again instead of one of you holding a screaming baby while the other one inhales whatever food you managed to scrounge out of the cabinet.
4.) Cloth diapers aren't that big of a deal. Don't stress about them so much. Just do it. (And I wish I'd known about Fluff Love University sooner!)
5.) Trust your instincts. If you feel like you still have thrush, it's thrush. If you think your baby has reflux, he has reflux. (Spoiler alert: both of them will eventually improve, I promise!)
6.) Just buy some non-maternity clothes a size up. Actually, I'd go back and tell my first-trimester self this one, when I was in between my normal clothes and my maternity clothes. I'm actually comfortable at the weight I'm at, but I do NOT fit into my old winter clothes yet.
7.) Take more pictures with your nice camera and fewer with your iPhone. Babies move too fast and half of your pictures are blurry!
8.) Don't compare yourself to your mom friends, and don't compare your baby to your friends' babies. You will either feel inordinately proud over something you can't take credit for or, more likely, completely awful because you feel like you're doing it all wrong. See: 6 Things New Parents Need to Stop Doing.
9.) In fact, don't even shame yourself about your feelings. They're not uncommon. Exhibit A. Exhibit B.
10.) Your baby's sleep schedule will at best make you tired and grumpy, and at worse expose your selfishness and control issues. Reinforce good habits, take what sleep you can get, and then just roll with it. Love him through it. His sleep will eventually sloooowly improve. You'll start to notice that his weeks of bad sleep will correspond with huge developmental leaps, and it will start to make sense. Reading this helps a lot:
11.) CTFD and laugh a little. If you can't reach this point on your own, talk with your spouse, with other mom friends, or with a counselor until you can.
12.) Endorphins are still so very real. Work out if you can muster up even an ounce of energy, because it WILL give you more energy. Swimming, Body Pump, Piyo, hot yoga, and sometimes Zumba are your friends. HIIT, running, and plyometrics are not.
13.) Ross is a pretty awesome dad. Don't deprive him of opportunities to shine.
14.) Not only does breastfeeding get better, but should you be so lucky as to be able to continue this relationship, you'll start to notice how sanctifying it is:
15.) Sleeping baby faces will always make your heart melt. That gummy smile will never fail to make your heart explode. Sometimes, instead of trying to capture the sweetness with the millionth picture, close your eyes and memorize it instead.
16.) You love your baby. You're doing a good job.
I don't think you can outsmart those early hormones, but wow, those early days were so hard, and I was only dealing with mostly run-of-the-mill baby issues! I didn't have any perspective and I think I just thought things would be that hard forever. If I could just look back at myself at 8 weeks, I'd tell that poor girl so much:
1.) Go to physical therapy NOW. If 8 weeks postpartum feels a whole lot like 8 days postpartum, don't wait for the pain to get better! It obviously isn't improving on its own.
2.) Go to the pain management OBGYN NOW. See above.
3.) Someday, sooner than you think, you will be able to eat dinner with your husband again instead of one of you holding a screaming baby while the other one inhales whatever food you managed to scrounge out of the cabinet.
4.) Cloth diapers aren't that big of a deal. Don't stress about them so much. Just do it. (And I wish I'd known about Fluff Love University sooner!)
5.) Trust your instincts. If you feel like you still have thrush, it's thrush. If you think your baby has reflux, he has reflux. (Spoiler alert: both of them will eventually improve, I promise!)
6.) Just buy some non-maternity clothes a size up. Actually, I'd go back and tell my first-trimester self this one, when I was in between my normal clothes and my maternity clothes. I'm actually comfortable at the weight I'm at, but I do NOT fit into my old winter clothes yet.
7.) Take more pictures with your nice camera and fewer with your iPhone. Babies move too fast and half of your pictures are blurry!
8.) Don't compare yourself to your mom friends, and don't compare your baby to your friends' babies. You will either feel inordinately proud over something you can't take credit for or, more likely, completely awful because you feel like you're doing it all wrong. See: 6 Things New Parents Need to Stop Doing.
9.) In fact, don't even shame yourself about your feelings. They're not uncommon. Exhibit A. Exhibit B.
10.) Your baby's sleep schedule will at best make you tired and grumpy, and at worse expose your selfishness and control issues. Reinforce good habits, take what sleep you can get, and then just roll with it. Love him through it. His sleep will eventually sloooowly improve. You'll start to notice that his weeks of bad sleep will correspond with huge developmental leaps, and it will start to make sense. Reading this helps a lot:
“Infant/toddler sleep is erratic, unpredictable and doesn’t conform to our expectations. Children’s sleep habits have evolved to best serve the child, even if they don’t make sense to the parent. Adjust your expectations, not your child’s sleep habits (within reason)."
11.) CTFD and laugh a little. If you can't reach this point on your own, talk with your spouse, with other mom friends, or with a counselor until you can.
12.) Endorphins are still so very real. Work out if you can muster up even an ounce of energy, because it WILL give you more energy. Swimming, Body Pump, Piyo, hot yoga, and sometimes Zumba are your friends. HIIT, running, and plyometrics are not.
13.) Ross is a pretty awesome dad. Don't deprive him of opportunities to shine.
14.) Not only does breastfeeding get better, but should you be so lucky as to be able to continue this relationship, you'll start to notice how sanctifying it is:
Perhaps this is what Jesus had in mind for the Eucharist. Through the breaking of the bread, God invites us into the nursing relationship: the meeting of all our needs.I think about the cracked nipples and the itchy thrush, the aches and fevers of mastitis, the midnight trek across the house to feed a crying baby, fatigued to the point of nausea: "This is my body, broken for you."
I think about the times I missed out because of the chore it was keeping (my baby) fed, the chained-up feeling of pumping at work, the moments when I wish desperately for a break: "Poured out for you and for many…"
I think about God, who has given me these children and the means to sustain them, who is present in the Eucharist and in my nursing chair, who by these rituals invites me to participate in His life-giving power: "Do this, in remembrance of Me."
15.) Sleeping baby faces will always make your heart melt. That gummy smile will never fail to make your heart explode. Sometimes, instead of trying to capture the sweetness with the millionth picture, close your eyes and memorize it instead.
16.) You love your baby. You're doing a good job.
Friday, July 18, 2014
Jesus is Better
I have a problem. I want my baby to remain tiny, while I'm simultaneously doing everything I can to overcome his poor initial weight gain. Today he weighed 8 pounds and 14 ounces which is awesome! Up a whopping 12 ounces in 12 days! But also, sad. His newborn-sized clothes are getting pretty snug, as are his newborn diapers. His Shar Pei-esque elbows and knees are filling out and he even has the tiniest of rolls on his legs and arms. He is precious and wonderful and I am filled with pride and also an inordinate amount of sorrow as he grows.
Like, it's an actual problem. I shouldn't be this sad.
I am accustomed to working with babies in their first 28 days of life. Plenty of NICU babies stay longer than that, but since they were so early and/or so sick, most of them still leave acting like a newborn. I was nervous that I would like my baby less as he got older and bigger. Thankfully, that has not been the case, and it's so fun to watch his coordination develop and see recognition in his eyes. (Do you ever think... how weird would it be to not be able to just reach out and grab something? To have your arms and legs move around but not have control over them? So crazy! Babies have to learn so much.)
The passage of time is something that's always been hard for me to deal with for some reason, and what better than babies as an example of an accelerated version of time passing?! People tell me, "it goes too fast!" "You'll blink and he'll be this age (gesturing to whatever sized toddler they're walking around with)." And my least favorite, "Enjoy every moment before it's gone!"
Rather than helping me enjoy this time, these comments give rise to anxiety and nameless fears of missing out as time passes me by. I still haven't been able to address the root of this issue, but when I brought it up to a friend, she had such wise words:
"The truth is, we think that either 'being in the moment' and 'staying present' or the opposite, 'if it could only be like ___ in the next stage,' will satisfy us. And the truth is, we're all insatiable. We all want more of whatever we don't have. It's an interesting thing in motherhood to rest in Christ and be grateful for whatever God has handed us this day. All our expectations fly out the window. Otherwise we're left disappointed and wanting."
She is a wise, wise friend.
We've sung this song a few times at church, and the refrain "Jesus is better" keeps running through my head every time I find myself mourning something silly. Jesus is better than squishy cheeks and sleepy newborns and I simply have to believe that.
If you need me, I'll be bunkered in, listening to this song on repeat while I snuggle my baby.
Like, it's an actual problem. I shouldn't be this sad.
I am accustomed to working with babies in their first 28 days of life. Plenty of NICU babies stay longer than that, but since they were so early and/or so sick, most of them still leave acting like a newborn. I was nervous that I would like my baby less as he got older and bigger. Thankfully, that has not been the case, and it's so fun to watch his coordination develop and see recognition in his eyes. (Do you ever think... how weird would it be to not be able to just reach out and grab something? To have your arms and legs move around but not have control over them? So crazy! Babies have to learn so much.)
The passage of time is something that's always been hard for me to deal with for some reason, and what better than babies as an example of an accelerated version of time passing?! People tell me, "it goes too fast!" "You'll blink and he'll be this age (gesturing to whatever sized toddler they're walking around with)." And my least favorite, "Enjoy every moment before it's gone!"
Rather than helping me enjoy this time, these comments give rise to anxiety and nameless fears of missing out as time passes me by. I still haven't been able to address the root of this issue, but when I brought it up to a friend, she had such wise words:
"The truth is, we think that either 'being in the moment' and 'staying present' or the opposite, 'if it could only be like ___ in the next stage,' will satisfy us. And the truth is, we're all insatiable. We all want more of whatever we don't have. It's an interesting thing in motherhood to rest in Christ and be grateful for whatever God has handed us this day. All our expectations fly out the window. Otherwise we're left disappointed and wanting."
She is a wise, wise friend.
We've sung this song a few times at church, and the refrain "Jesus is better" keeps running through my head every time I find myself mourning something silly. Jesus is better than squishy cheeks and sleepy newborns and I simply have to believe that.
If you need me, I'll be bunkered in, listening to this song on repeat while I snuggle my baby.
Wednesday, May 7, 2014
This Season
I've been hesitant to write where I am lately. Partly because it seems to change on a daily basis, but partly because I'm also just not sure. Where am I? Where's my head? Where's my heart? When life gets crazy, I tend to self-protect by switching to autopilot and it makes me a little sad that maybe I'm missing out on this unique time in my life.
So. Because I want to remember, here's where I am:
...I'm a little overwhelmed by our house. I had no clue how much work went into simply putting up walls and ceilings! I thought we could rush through this renovation, but with constant setbacks for the first 6 weeks, making the house liveable has taken longer than even our most conservative estimates. My heart has been weird and unsettled in this in-between place, and I'm learning to just sit in it and maybe not whine to anyone and everyone in the meantime. This week, we're starting to see the light at the end of the tunnel, but even then I know there's still a lot of work to be done between "liveable" and "home." In my worse moments, I feel very "woe is me" and I certainly let everyone know. In my best moments, I realize I'm learning patience and that things could actually be much worse than a pregnant introvert having to live out of a suitcase in someone else's house for a few weeks (we've been out of our apartment since April 20).
...I miss my husband. He is so dedicated to getting this house done as soon as possible, and it's fun seeing him in his element. I would've knocked the house down by this point, but he's doing such a great job! He passes all of his inspections with flying colors. (If only we could say the same about the professional work that's been done). But he goes straight over to the house after work and stays there late most nights. I probably work over there 3-4 days a week, based on what kind of work is being done that week, what my work schedule is, and how I'm feeling physically. But Ross is easily there 6 days a week working his butt off to make our house a home! I'm also learning that we're both a little allergic to doing things halfway. The more we get into this house, the more we find that's been half-assed. It's frustrating, but I think it also redoubles our efforts because we refuse to take shortcuts. If we're stripping it down, we want to build it back up the right way.
...I'm tired. 8-months-pregnant tired, yes, but also so physically and emotionally tired from the combo of work + renovation + not being in my comfort zone. Both of my jobs are suuuper busy (all. the. spring. babies.) right now and I'm always shocked when I have the energy to work on the house for a few hours in the evening. Bending over, lifting things, and getting up and down at work and at the house is more exhausting than ever. I truly thank God for the energy I do have. Some days I just can't muster it up, but the days I can I'm always amazed. I'm also tired of eating convenience foods. I'm tired of eating in the car. I'm tired of driving all across town all the live-long day for one reason or another. I'm tired of living in-between. Like I said, I'm learning to just rest here because I don't have a choice. And I am aware it could always be worse. Not trying to complain, just want to be honest. I think a lot about how one of my friends claims there's no such thing as "balance." There are simply seasons. Seasons of rest, seasons of crazy, seasons of breaking down, seasons of building up. I'm not entirely sure how to define this season yet, but I know when the rest comes, it will be that much sweeter!
...I'm in transition. I'm not sure how to really word this feeling. I feel pulled in a lot of different directions. One of my jobs is demanding my all, which I just don't have to give right now. I feel guilty that Ross is putting so much more work into the house than I am. I cry that it's taking too long, yet I don't put in nearly as many hours there as he does. Never for a moment have I blamed him for our ridiculous luck with this house, but when I freak out about our nomadic lifestyle going on three weeks, it makes him feel bad and then I feel bad and... yeah. I also feel like I'm ignoring this poor baby. Life's been crazy since about 28 weeks and now I'm staring 35 weeks in the face. Full-term is just two weeks away and my chiropractor is (infuriatingly) insisting that he's going to come early. (For the record, I've told the baby that's simply not allowed). But I feel like I can't even buy diapers because there's no where to put them. Heck, there's no where to put the baby. There's no where to put US if he comes early! I'm simply not ready and I so wish that I could invest my time in preparing for this huge life change that's about to take place. Basically, I feel like no one is getting my best or my all and I'm not sure how I feel about that.
...To end on a happy note, I'm ECSTATIC that warm weather is here! Sunshine! I notice such a difference when I get fresh air and sun. I'm very thankful for that this week. Less than 2 weeks ago it was 30 degrees outside and now I'm in shorts and a t-shirt! (Note to self: must purchase more maternity t-shirts ASAP.)
So. Because I want to remember, here's where I am:
...I'm a little overwhelmed by our house. I had no clue how much work went into simply putting up walls and ceilings! I thought we could rush through this renovation, but with constant setbacks for the first 6 weeks, making the house liveable has taken longer than even our most conservative estimates. My heart has been weird and unsettled in this in-between place, and I'm learning to just sit in it and maybe not whine to anyone and everyone in the meantime. This week, we're starting to see the light at the end of the tunnel, but even then I know there's still a lot of work to be done between "liveable" and "home." In my worse moments, I feel very "woe is me" and I certainly let everyone know. In my best moments, I realize I'm learning patience and that things could actually be much worse than a pregnant introvert having to live out of a suitcase in someone else's house for a few weeks (we've been out of our apartment since April 20).
...I miss my husband. He is so dedicated to getting this house done as soon as possible, and it's fun seeing him in his element. I would've knocked the house down by this point, but he's doing such a great job! He passes all of his inspections with flying colors. (If only we could say the same about the professional work that's been done). But he goes straight over to the house after work and stays there late most nights. I probably work over there 3-4 days a week, based on what kind of work is being done that week, what my work schedule is, and how I'm feeling physically. But Ross is easily there 6 days a week working his butt off to make our house a home! I'm also learning that we're both a little allergic to doing things halfway. The more we get into this house, the more we find that's been half-assed. It's frustrating, but I think it also redoubles our efforts because we refuse to take shortcuts. If we're stripping it down, we want to build it back up the right way.
...I'm tired. 8-months-pregnant tired, yes, but also so physically and emotionally tired from the combo of work + renovation + not being in my comfort zone. Both of my jobs are suuuper busy (all. the. spring. babies.) right now and I'm always shocked when I have the energy to work on the house for a few hours in the evening. Bending over, lifting things, and getting up and down at work and at the house is more exhausting than ever. I truly thank God for the energy I do have. Some days I just can't muster it up, but the days I can I'm always amazed. I'm also tired of eating convenience foods. I'm tired of eating in the car. I'm tired of driving all across town all the live-long day for one reason or another. I'm tired of living in-between. Like I said, I'm learning to just rest here because I don't have a choice. And I am aware it could always be worse. Not trying to complain, just want to be honest. I think a lot about how one of my friends claims there's no such thing as "balance." There are simply seasons. Seasons of rest, seasons of crazy, seasons of breaking down, seasons of building up. I'm not entirely sure how to define this season yet, but I know when the rest comes, it will be that much sweeter!
| Maybe we need this print in our house to remind us! |
...To end on a happy note, I'm ECSTATIC that warm weather is here! Sunshine! I notice such a difference when I get fresh air and sun. I'm very thankful for that this week. Less than 2 weeks ago it was 30 degrees outside and now I'm in shorts and a t-shirt! (Note to self: must purchase more maternity t-shirts ASAP.)
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