Lily

Dear Lily,

I am struggling to explain the world to you right now. I am trying my best to show you life as it is, not sugar coated, not overly coddled. I want you to know that there is safety in our home. There is trust, there is love, and there is knowledge that you will never be hurt.

But the world is cruel sometimes, and already you are getting a taste of that. Yesterday at the park, a big boy pushed past you to get to the slide. You looked at me immediately with bewilderment. I smiled. You smiled back, tentatively, and went on your way. But at that moment, I felt my heart drop.

You didn't defend yourself. Instead, you looked to me. And maybe, at your age, that is appropriate. But it fills me with fear for the day that I may not be there when you look for me. I want you to stand up for yourself, to be strong. I want you to be a tough little girl who doesn't get bullied or pushed around.

But how can I teach you this without you losing your gentle and loving spirit? The spirit that causes you to tell everyone that you love them, to kiss and hug your friends over and over? Hoe can I teach you the balance between tough and tender?

I want you to view this world in a way that keeps you safe and sane. To make your way without stumbling. I want to protect you, but at the same time, I want you to fly on your own.

You have the dearest heart, my love. You are kind. You are so loving. You are so gentle. And you teach me, everyday, that life in the moment is what matters. You teach me that love saves. You teach me that family is everything.

So I cannot promise you the world will never be cruel to you. I cannot say you will never be pushed, or hurt. I can't tell you that sometimes you won't feel sad or troubled. Life is difficult.

But I can promise you one thing, baby girl. I will always be here. When you are sad, come to me. When the world has hurt you, let me comfort you. When nobody is on your side, I will be your cheerleader. When you are rejected, I will open my arms to you and show you shelter. I will cry with you, I will celebrate your victories. I will be the one who steps forward when nobody else does, or the one who steps back to let you shine.

I love you, and I love your good heart. I am proud you are beautiful, and proud you are smart. But I am most proud, my dear sweet love, that you are good and kind. I pray I can help you keep those qualities, even when the big boys of this world push you aside.

Love,
Mama

Motherhood

Motherhood is a layering of miracles, a swath of experiences so profound that they cannot be explained. Words cannot be ascribed to something so primal, so deep. Very few things in this life penetrate all layers of self- physical, spiritual, mental- like being a mother.

Motherhood is a great equalizer. Sit in a room full of other mothers and all of the extraneous baggage falls away. It is no longer about what car you drive, how big your house is, who you were before birth, your job, your husband. It becomes about your little people, about you as a mother. Nothing else takes precedence over that.

I will never be able to articulate what motherhood is to me. It is beyond words, this feeling. This love that knows no bounds. This sacrificing of self. It is love and beyond love. It is devotion and a laying down of everything that is about me, and becoming what is about them.

Some people would argue with me. Some would say you must fight to keep your sense of self. But for me, personally, my sense of self is all wrapped up in my ability to mother successfully. If that is wrong, then it is wrong. If I am doing myself a disservice, fine. I'll deal with that later. For right now, this is all I know how to be. A mother, first. All else second.

I count myself so very lucky. I know what the other side looks like. I know the darkness and twisted path that motherhood can take. I have seen the blood, I have felt the blows. I know where I do not want to set my feet. I know there is no force on earth that could take me there- none.

And so my days are filled with doing for others- with rocking and singing and playing and consoling. My life is full and busy. My world is my family and my home. And in it, I see holiness. I see God in every action. I see this house and this life as a shelter from the rest of the world- and I am determined it should always be so.

So I will continue to see the holy things in the mundane. I will see the cross in the clothespin, the parable in the chaos. I will love, and be loved. I will give even without getting back. I will sacrifice all that I am for all these two little people will be.

And through it all I will know that I am healing all of the brokenness in myself. I am sealing the wounds. I am staunching the bleeding that the past has created. There is nothing in this world that can heal me like motherhood. Nothing that can bring me more peace, or more fulfillment. As the years go on I will watch the past fade and soon, very soon, I will think of it not with anger or sadness...but with the resignation that comes with total forgiveness.

Well, hello there...

Anybody miss me?

No?

Errrr okay. Awkward....

Anywho, I have bee on a sort of unplanned blog haitus. Which means, in truth, I have been held hostage by this little monkey:



But all in all he has been a humane captor. With the exception of taking me from this ( . )( . ) to this ( o ) ( o ). Which would be great if they also didn't nearly touch the floor. Sheesh.

Anywho, let's catch up. I had a baby about 2 months ago. Ummmm....and that's about it.

We are all adjusting much better. You want proof- get a load of my new header photo. And there's also this-



See?

I'd show you a current pic of me, but let's wait until the bags under my eyes and the spit up on my shirt is remedied shall we? Mmmmmkay.

Things are going well most days. We have our moments, but I can say that we are adjusting to life as a family of four. The hardest part for me is just the intense amount of preparation it takes just to get out of the house. Nurse, change diaper, put toddler on potty, pack diaper bag, nurse, put toddler on potty, change my shirt, make grocery list, nurse, burp, deal with a meltdown, etc. By the time we do all that, most days it's 11 AM, and I am too pissed off and tired to even actually leave.

But all of that pales and fades away when I look at my two babies. I am utterly in love with them. Totally head over heels.

And even more, I know I was born to this. I am a good mother. I am strong and kind and I love them and sacrifice for them. I am what I was born to be, in this very moment I am living God's plan for my life- to raise these two special creatures. It is a privledge and a joy and I am honored.

I think alot these days about how far I have come. How life can change and meld into something you could never have expected. How the eternal things ecome so much more important as the years go on. Family is everything, love is paramount. Everything else is just icing.

And love- well we have that in abundance around here these days. Love, grace, laughter, joy...all of these things surround us.

I wish you the same.

Babies don't keep

I am struck with gratitude this morning. I am tired, I am worn out, and I am grateful. I get to hold my sweet babies. I get to watch my babies grow. I get to see Lily ride her bike, and watch Samuel nurse and begin to smile.

Some other parents are right now letting go of their children, giving them up to heaven. They are holding their child's hand, whispering words, sitting silent. They are crying, weeping. They are praying. I cannot imagine.

So many times I get caught up in the stress of my day. I look past the sweet moments and see the piles of laundry. I miss the chance to hug, kiss, cuddle...because I am too busy. I am not in the moment as often as I should be. I am, instead, making lists in my head of what I should be doing.

Truth be told, what I should be doing is loving my babies. I should be taking every opportunity to kiss and cuddle and read books and play play-dough and talk and laugh. I should stop getting caught up in what is not getting done, and focus on what I CAN do, right now, in this moment.

I found a blog yesterday. It is heartbreaking and beautiful. It made me think. It made me cry. And most of all, it made me make the decision to be in the moment, right now, with my children.

Dust can wait. Laundry can pile up. E-mail can go unanswered. One day my children will not want to spend time with me. They will not want to be picked up or read to. They will want me to fade into the background.

So today, I will not rush. I will not spend each moment of a feeding with Samuel thinking about what I could be getting done. I will not rush through a book with Lily so I can return a phone call. I will love, and pay attention, and give, and let the mundane details of life wait.

Hug your babies today. Love them, and SEE them. Do it for those parents who cannot.

Fly high, sweet baby Layla.

http://laylagrace.org/?p=392

The walk

Lots to say. Lots of thoughts and feelings to convey. But the words are a bit lost, buried beneath the busy-ness. Thoughts get swept away with the crumbs of lunch, deep meaningful conversations are given up to sleep. We are living life in the moment here, in our little house. We are getting through it all second by second.

It occured to me that I hadn't spoken to God in nearly a week. All of my words and thoughts and time go to my two little people. There is not much left for anyone else, and God has gotten lost in the shuffle. So last night as I sat up nursing Samuel, I apologized to Him. I got a bit teary eyed- I miss those times of silence and peace and the give and take of love. But then I looked down at Samuel, and it was as if God had spoken directly to my soul- with every moment of care, every kiss and cuddle and diaper change, I am worshiping my Savior. With every moment I put Lily's needs before my own, every time I struggle with how to give her all the attention she needs, with every time I hold her and rock her and make sure she is happy, I am doing God's work.

He put me here to mother. He created me to carry these babies. I was born to raise these children, and right now, at this moment, I am fufilling a destiny He created for me.

What we do as moms is not glamorous. It is thankless at times. It is tough. It is busy. It leaves little time for ourselves. But it is so sacred. It is beautiful. We are creating a little bit of heaven here on earth- a place of peace, of love, of acceptance and affection. We are the face of God for our children.

So I am walking this line right now. The one where I can do it all, and where I cannot. I have cried many times these past weeks, and laughed and felt more joy than ever before. But I know with every step, God is with me. He is helping me to see the divine in the mundane, to create love and laughter and memories, and to give more of myself when I feel there is nothing left. He is opening me, teaching me. And He is inviting me to lean deeper into Him, to draw strength from Him. He is asking me to love more, yell less, look deeper, give more, speak less and listen more. He is inviting me into a deeper walk with Him, just by mothering my babies.

And I am listening, and loving, and finally living the life He intended me to.

2 weeks

He is perfect. His hands are beautiful, the fingers long and almost elegant. His hair is dark and full, his face exactly as I saw it when I dreamed of him. He is sweet, and sleepy, and loves his milk and snuggles.

Today my son is 2 weeks old.

I want to write that I was head over heels in love with him the first moment I saw him...but that would be a lie. I was terrified as the room filled with people, as they worked on him. I was in pain. And then I was...angry. Angry that I did not get to hold him right away, that his first feeding was formula, that I was hurting so damn badly.

In the hospital I was drugged. When I came home, I was focused on Lily and holding it together. My in-laws were here. I was trying to find a way around the physical pain, trying to recover. I held him, and I fed him, and I changed him, but in an odd way, I barely noticed him.

I felt guilty, because when I had Lily, I looked into her eyes, and I KNEW her. I had been waiting forever for her. And there she was, and I was lightning struck and in love within moments. I gazed at her for hours. Nothing kept my focus from her.

I wondered if I would ever feel that with Samuel. I waited for it.

And then...he opened his eyes the other night after his feeding. And he looked up at me. The world abruptly fell off a cliff as I stared into his eyes. I got chills as I whispered "Oh, THERE you are." He just looked up at me, and he knew me as well. It was a most sacred moment in the quiet. It was not lightning, it was not as bold or as breathless as I had with Lily, but it was exquisite.

So here we are, a family of four. We have spent the last week here at home, snuggling, playing, learning our new dynamic. I have spent it adjusting to being a mommy of 2. There has been very little sleep and some tears from all of us. But the moments I watch Lily kiss her brothers cheek, when I watch Mark take on the role of daddy again, changing diapers expertly, making bottles, rocking the baby, playing with Lily, I am so proud of who we are and how we have grown together. Samuel is the last piece of the puzzle, the one who makes the home complete.

And now I cannot stop gazing at him, tracing his fingers with mine. I cannot keep my lips from his forehead or my fingers from his hair. And I cannot help but feel my heart swelling as I look at his perfect face. I am utterly and totally in love with my son, the one I have waited for and longed for and prayed for.

A year away

The heartbeat was stilled, the soul gone. But he still is with is, and lives in us, forever.

Joshua, you will never be far from me. I love you. Someday...