I pray, sweet girl, that God sends you a man to marry who is just as perfect for you as your daddy is for me.
We've had a really, really rough week. We had to be out of the house for most of the week due to repairs from a roof leak. Between trips back and forth to Greenwood, and attempts to participate in other social activities, today was evidently the breaking point. Everyone was a disaster. As your brother would say, "Having a meltdown!"
After over an hour of hysterics I finally put Gideon in the Ergo and walked around the neighborhood to get him to sleep. After I put him in his bed, I walked into my bedroom and hit the floor.
I sobbed. I am exhausted. I am overwhelmed. I am touched out. I am confused. I can't seem to figure out half of what your brother is going through right now. I am ashamed. I want so badly to offer your daddy a peaceful and happy home, but that's just not how it is right now. I feel trapped. I can't seem to get out of the house without one of my babies becoming hysterical, so I feel like I shouldn't even try to leave. Every time we attempt to go anywhere it ends in disaster. Motherhood is hard. So. Incredibly. Hard. So, I sobbed those deep, long, painful sobs and I prayed. I prayed the simplest prayer. The thing I ask of Him when I am absolutely beyond even knowing where to start. "Lord, help me." I sobbed and prayed.
Your daddy came in and put a hand on my back and whispered in my ear, "I love you. I love you so much. Take all the time you need." and then he went out. There is nothing more perfect that he could have done. He offered me his love and support, and then he offered me time and space.
He is such a wise man, Lydia. It will take you a long while to understand that. But, really, he is so good and so wise. He knew he couldn't "fix" my problem. He knows me so well. He knew I needed Christ in that moment more than anything else. But, still, he knew that his love and reassurance would be helpful to me. So he rubbed my back gently and briefly, he gave me his love, and he gave me permission, time, and space to fall apart in the hands of my God.
As we looked at the mascara stain I left on the carpet when all was calm again, I told him that I know God is refining me. He's teaching me, in these moments that are so hard, that I am not in control. He's teaching me to let go of the illusion of control that I cling to so hard. He's showing me that there is no benefit to my attempts to control things, that the only reward is in relinquishing my sense of control to His true control. But, oh, how hard that lesson is.
And your daddy knows. He knows that God's not done with me. He knows these changes can be painful. But he loves me so. He loves me when I'm a mess. He loves me when I leave mascara stains in the carpet. He loves me when I'm in a moment of darkness and confusion, crying on the floor with my hands opened up, seeking God. He loves me when he watches me fall apart so that I can let God change me.
I pray that you might be less stubborn than I am, that you might let Him change you without such a fight. I pray that for you now, because, from what I know of you in these 3 short months, you are going to need those prayers.
Love you, my precious girl.
Momma
Saturday, March 16, 2013
Tuesday, March 5, 2013
In My Falling Short
Your brother turns two in 30 minutes. I have spent the past several days thinking about this. His first birthday was a lot about him, about how much he had changed and grown over the course of one magical year. This second birthday feels like it's a lot more about me.
Don't get me wrong, he's learned to do so many awesome things in the past year. He's grown and changed, learned and matured, and we will celebrate that. But when I stop and think about this day 2 years ago, what amazes me more than anything is the change that has taken place in me.
Two years ago I thought I knew what it meant to be Momma. I rubbed him through my bulging tummy as we settled in to the hospital. I loved him, I wanted the very best for him, and I had felt my heart get bigger and softer over the course of the 49 weeks and 4 days it took to grow him. Truthfully, I had no idea.
Now, two years later I have an almost 2 year old and a 3 month old, and I am changed. I could go on and on and never really, fully capture what it is that I mean to say. That's just the way it is. Motherhood is a reformation of the soul, if you allow it to be, and although I am far enough in that I can recognize some ground shaking changes, I'm not far enough to be able to name them and describe them with any clarity.
Here's what I know: I'm softer now, both inside and out.
My tummy used to be smooth and taut. Then it stretched and grew to accommodate you two and keep you safe while God did His work in there, putting you together. Now it's a squishy pillow that you both love to nuzzle in to. My breasts used to be firm and supple. They nourished your brother for over a year and continue to provide your every calorie. They bulge and ache in the morning and grow softer as I feed you through the day. When I lie down at night they seem most akin to pancakes, and for what it's worth, you appreciate their nourishment just the same.
I used to think I knew things. I used to have "theories" and ideas about "best practices" for education, for sleep habits, for nutrition. Now I know that all of the research in the world doesn't much matter when something different is what works best for Momma and baby. I used to have a plan. Annual goals, a monthly calendar, a daily schedule. Now I have a toddler and an infant. Some days drag on as we struggle to figure each other out, as teeth poke their way through tender gums, as germs cause stuffy noses and disturbed sleep. Some months fly by as I grasp at fleeting moments of accomplishments and milestones that seem to come one right after the other.
I've learned to withhold judgement far better than I used to. There were so many things I thought parents were crazy for doing, things that I've now found myself trying, or at least being able to understand. I've grown to love your daddy even more. There is nothing quite like watching a big, strong, grown man be so tender with his baby. It turns me to mush. Every day when he tickles your brother or sings you a song, I fall ever more in love. More importantly, I've learned to trust him in a way that I never could have if I hadn't had such precious gifts to share with him. You and your brother are our joint responsibility, and our relationship has grown so much stronger as we've shared you two.
Above all else, I have grown ever more reliant upon my God. I know now, more than ever, that I need His guidance, His direction, His love, His forgiveness. I turn to him so much more now that I have you two to shepherd. I ask His protection over you both on a daily basis, because I know that you are His. I know, as hard as it is to understand, that you are merely on loan to me. That He has entrusted you to the care of your daddy and me. We need His help, daily, to do best by you both. And yet, I know that in my "doing my best" I will still fail to give you all that you need. You need more than me, more than Daddy. You need Him, too. And so I pray that where I fail, where Daddy and I fall short, that you will seek God, because He will not fail you. He will not fall short. He will provide all of your needs, all of them. It is only by my faith in Him that I continue to grow in to the mother He intended for me to be to you and your brother. Pointing you to Him is the only way I manage to maintain my sanity, to keep my hope, because I will never be enough for you, and that's exactly as it should be. I will never be enough because in my falling short, you are led to His never failing.
Don't get me wrong, he's learned to do so many awesome things in the past year. He's grown and changed, learned and matured, and we will celebrate that. But when I stop and think about this day 2 years ago, what amazes me more than anything is the change that has taken place in me.
Two years ago I thought I knew what it meant to be Momma. I rubbed him through my bulging tummy as we settled in to the hospital. I loved him, I wanted the very best for him, and I had felt my heart get bigger and softer over the course of the 49 weeks and 4 days it took to grow him. Truthfully, I had no idea.
Now, two years later I have an almost 2 year old and a 3 month old, and I am changed. I could go on and on and never really, fully capture what it is that I mean to say. That's just the way it is. Motherhood is a reformation of the soul, if you allow it to be, and although I am far enough in that I can recognize some ground shaking changes, I'm not far enough to be able to name them and describe them with any clarity.
Here's what I know: I'm softer now, both inside and out.
My tummy used to be smooth and taut. Then it stretched and grew to accommodate you two and keep you safe while God did His work in there, putting you together. Now it's a squishy pillow that you both love to nuzzle in to. My breasts used to be firm and supple. They nourished your brother for over a year and continue to provide your every calorie. They bulge and ache in the morning and grow softer as I feed you through the day. When I lie down at night they seem most akin to pancakes, and for what it's worth, you appreciate their nourishment just the same.
I used to think I knew things. I used to have "theories" and ideas about "best practices" for education, for sleep habits, for nutrition. Now I know that all of the research in the world doesn't much matter when something different is what works best for Momma and baby. I used to have a plan. Annual goals, a monthly calendar, a daily schedule. Now I have a toddler and an infant. Some days drag on as we struggle to figure each other out, as teeth poke their way through tender gums, as germs cause stuffy noses and disturbed sleep. Some months fly by as I grasp at fleeting moments of accomplishments and milestones that seem to come one right after the other.
I've learned to withhold judgement far better than I used to. There were so many things I thought parents were crazy for doing, things that I've now found myself trying, or at least being able to understand. I've grown to love your daddy even more. There is nothing quite like watching a big, strong, grown man be so tender with his baby. It turns me to mush. Every day when he tickles your brother or sings you a song, I fall ever more in love. More importantly, I've learned to trust him in a way that I never could have if I hadn't had such precious gifts to share with him. You and your brother are our joint responsibility, and our relationship has grown so much stronger as we've shared you two.
Above all else, I have grown ever more reliant upon my God. I know now, more than ever, that I need His guidance, His direction, His love, His forgiveness. I turn to him so much more now that I have you two to shepherd. I ask His protection over you both on a daily basis, because I know that you are His. I know, as hard as it is to understand, that you are merely on loan to me. That He has entrusted you to the care of your daddy and me. We need His help, daily, to do best by you both. And yet, I know that in my "doing my best" I will still fail to give you all that you need. You need more than me, more than Daddy. You need Him, too. And so I pray that where I fail, where Daddy and I fall short, that you will seek God, because He will not fail you. He will not fall short. He will provide all of your needs, all of them. It is only by my faith in Him that I continue to grow in to the mother He intended for me to be to you and your brother. Pointing you to Him is the only way I manage to maintain my sanity, to keep my hope, because I will never be enough for you, and that's exactly as it should be. I will never be enough because in my falling short, you are led to His never failing.
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