These boys are the world to me.
I tiptoed through the hall after they’d been put to bed, and heard a little voice call me, with so much love in it, “Good night, Mama.”
I am so blessed by their deep, genuine, forgiving love.
Post Category → motherhood
baby days
Tonight, I got this giggling girl dressed into her pj’s, and she excitedly announced, “Nap!” She loves her silky-edged blanket and her favorite dolls.
She happily “skipped” into her daddy’s office to give him a kiss, laughing and jabbering the whole way.
We closed the bedroom door and snuggled in my bed to read the book she looks forward to all day, Goodnight Moon. The boys loved it, too, but somehow she finds a unique humor in every page and just laughs!
I scooped her up and cradled her in my arms. She settled right in, sucking her thumb, her big blue eyes gazing into mine as I sang a lullaby.
Eight more Mondays of you being my baby, I said. I squeezed her a bit tighter, kissed her smooth forehead and freckled nose. You’ve been the best baby girl. My little doll.
I laid her in her bed, tucked the favorite blanket under her chin just so, and made sure her doll was snug in her arms. Her eyes twinkled with happiness over each gesture.
And I prayed. Please, Lord, help me to be a good mama to a little girl, a daughter. She means the world to me.
She means the world to Him, too.
numbering
Sometimes, in the middle of all the work of life, I inwardly stop. I notice the speed at which life is moving, almost hear the seconds ticking away, the hours slipping past. It makes me so deeply thankful for the little gifts of each day — things that are really not so “little”, after all. (A husband I love and admire? Three children who are healthy and precious? Not so “little”.)
It also makes my heart hurt. Makes me want to clench my fist a bit tighter, in the hopes that the sands of time might get trapped for just a minute more.
But the inevitable passing of time isn’t meant to make us get stingier, more close-fisted, screeching on the brakes, resentful of each ticking second. No, learning to number our days is a wake up call: Turn your heart to wisdom. Keep eternity ever before you.
For me, right now? It means: Every day with this child is precious — and not just because childhood is fleeting, but because eternity is a reality they must be prepared to face.
Teach us to number our days — not so we can revel a bit more in the warm fuzzies, so we can take more pictures (although being thankful is so often aided by those pauses). Teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom.
*****
Moments I’m cherishing:
waking up to two little bed partners, the sun kissing chubby cheeks and rosy lips
my pudgy-armed baby girl
brothers who live almost every single minute in togetherness
first independent trip down the slide
an oldest brother who gets his siblings situated in front of Curious George, so Mama can rest
a little girl who always says yes when asked, “Do you want a hug?”
and a repost from this past January — a photo that left a lump in my throat when I saw it last night. Two boys, proudly showing me their first independently built snowman. This day in their little lives will never be repeated, but how thankful I am to have been there to cheer and applaud them. They are so precious.
10, 9,…
This, apparently, is about the size/weight of Baby #4. The boys are not impressed.
30 weeks. Almost 31. That’s how long this little baby has been growing. Depending on who asks about my due date, I either get eyes-popping “Wow, you’re huge already, and you have that long to go??” answers, or (generally, if it’s a guy asking), “That’s really soon!”
Well, yes to both of those. There’s no denying that this baby is all there, or that this baby has any intention of slowing his growth during the next 9 weeks. But mostly, I’m just wondering where the last seven months have gone, and how we already got this far into pregnancy #4.
I’ve been feeling great, and I’m super thankful. Just recently, on days with a bit too much digging in gardens and pushing of wheelbarrows, I’ve gotten painful twinges in my lower back. But really? I’m not complaining. I’m so thankful.
Of course, “feeling great” doesn’t take into account the exhaustion of pregnancy (which will only increase in the next two months!) Most weeks, there are at least 4 afternoons that find me fast asleep on the couch. “Do the boys still nap?”, people ask. And I have to say, “Well, I’m not sure what they do. I’m out cold!” (No, they don’t usually fall asleep, though it’s happened, especially on a cool afternoon after a string of hot outdoor days.)
We haven’t thought about or discussed baby names. Our bedroom and adjoining bathroom are very, very mid reno. (Another home birth is the plan.) I have this feeling that the transition to four kids is going to seem big.
The baby moves. I feel little feet, and sometimes I push back, wondering if he thinks it’s a game. Hello in there.
30 weeks down. Less than 10 to go. You can do a lot in 10 weeks, right?
But what’s neat about a baby is: they don’t care how much you’ve gotten done, how much you’ve wrapped your mind around their arrival. They just come. And you suddenly realize, This little person didn’t just happen. God prepared and wrapped His mind around them and His love, too. A whole lot of love. And it spills into and out of you, too, and who cares about the bathroom, anyway. There’s a new person to love.
today
Today, our house recovers from a whirlwind weekend of celebration. Bedrooms were more than a bit askew when we woke up this morning, proving just how crazy getting ready for church can be — especially on Easter Sunday. Ironing boards, stray “grass” from baskets, laundry piles that hadn’t been touched for three days: our to-do list was obvious this morning. It was also quickly accomplished, thanks to two cheerful boys.
Today, the sun never quite made it out. When dawn finally came, it revealed rain. My planned walk was quickly cancelled, and our morning chores were motivated by a reward of afghans, candles, and All Creatures Great and Small on Netflix. (Overcast spring days can be such a disappointment, but reminding myself that I romanticize such weather when it happens in England helps me to change my opinion.)
Today, I put our Advent-turned-Lenten candle wreath away. Our awaited Redemption has come, and we live in His great victory — today, tomorrow, and the next day. But we also continue to wait and look and live in expectation, groaning with creation, knowing there is a complete redemption to come. We live in brokenness — experiencing within ourselves the wholeness of a new birth, and proclaiming that Good News to the broken hearts, broken societies, broken systems around us. There is life to be had! He has come! And He is coming!
Today, I had school plans and chores lists and hopes for reading out loud. But inspiration swept two boys into the world of Playmobil, and so I slip quietly away, not wanting to interrupt them in this magical moment. Play away, little boys. Pretend and laugh and build and create. The bathrooms and books can wait.
Today, I pray for the grace to be a faithful wife, mother, homemaker, sister, friend, citizen, daughter. How? How to be faithful in even one of those without lacking faithfulness in the others? Because most of all, I’m called to faithfulness to Jesus, and to the will of my Father. And He is happy to lead those who long to be led.
20 weeks
This little baby, growing in my belly, is halfway through his in-utero journey. That is hard to believe. Baby #4 has two big brothers who are ecstatic about his arrival (– “his” being used a general pronoun for human being of yet unknown gender. We like to be surprised at the very end!) He also has a sister who is growing quite infatuated with babies, her baby doll, and being bossy — all the makings of a fabulous big sister, no?
As for me, I’m just amazed and mystified at the fact that a baby, a human being, is created inside of me. And quickly, too! I’m also taken by surprise by the sheer amount of energy required of me for something that is almost invisible to my eye. (Can my shockingly round abdomen fit into the category of “almost invisible”?) I have struggled with deep frustration over my constant exhaustion, wanting to dismiss it as sheer silliness, something that I can surely ignore and just press through. But no. This baby already needs me, and I forget. I forget that I am legitimately mothering four people right now. And I am reminded that this can be a gentle easing into a life more dependent on the Holy Spirit than ever before, if I stop striving and just learn.
*****
A little tribute to my unborn baby seems an appropriate time to make sure local readership is aware of this unfortunate fact. It’s easy to ignore things like this, or make excuses for why action isn’t really required. But the truth is, your actions matter. They matter to bottom lines, to unborn babies, and most of all, to God. This is something Ryan and I are freshly challenged by. More on that in another post.