Very hot, indeed. And these are down from 87 deg.(upstairs) and 82 deg.(downstairs) just a few hours ago. But the A/C will be back in commission tomorrow, and we’ll likely not melt before then. For tonight, family sleepover in the living room. Henry’s already claimed the pack ‘n play, so we’ll be keeping the couches company.
off to…couch,
mm
I hopped onto the blog tonight without thoughts on a topic or direction, but as is often the case, the ideas formed in my mind just as I sat down to type. For this very reason, this space has been so sacred to me throughout the past few months–and especially in the last five weeks as Henry has joined our family and life has adjusted in a major way.
When I get here, I don’t always know what I want to say, or exactly how to say it. There are days, of course, where I’ve had a thought I want to share since getting up in the morning…but more often as of late, I’ve been somewhat blank before sitting down at the computer at the end of a long day. So here I am again, at the end of a day that has been wonderful in a lot of ways and very long in others (read: 3.5 hours of sleep last night with the little one and only a short afternoon nap), and suddenly, in the moment, I have something to say.
Tonight, I’m rejuvenated by the silence that surrounds me, and this house, in this sweet (and surely momentary) space in time. Jason is out with the dog for a walk, and Henry, who was screaming not just 30 minutes ago, has fallen peacefully asleep in his car seat. Before this, we were arriving home from a lovely night with friends and I was planning to feed him for these minutes that are passing oh-so-quietly while he slumbers. For the moment, it’s just me and the couch and the click of the keyboard, with a peaceful stir from the other side of the room every once in a while.
As cliché as it may seem, I love the sound of Henry sleeping. From that tiny little person come the greatest little squeaks and murmurs as he’s sound asleep–unaware of the rest of the world. From this vantage point, he is my still (very) small baby, dreaming and growing and resting as he should; and the whole world feels right. In between the crying and the fussing, the squirming and trouble shooting that we take on each day, there is a stillness so beautiful in a newborn babe.
Our lives can become so cluttered up with the pace of things…the plans and schedules and commitments that we create for ourselves–and plenty that are created for us. But in this learning season, where everything is new and we stay closer to home, where schedules are what a baby makes of them and nights and days blend together, the clutter somehow melts away. We simply are. And we embrace the stillness. the silence. the noise.
soaking it in as the little one wakes…
mm
after (and before:) the noise tonight:
Aside from the fact that there’s a cute little newborn running our lives these days, today felt almost completely like a normal, Kehrer family kind of Saturday. It was, of course, infused with a little extra in the way of scheduling challenges, and also with a lot of extra sweet moments with Henry. We are learning to be a family in an entirely new way.
Compared to last Saturday, today felt like a total victory to me. We did sleep in a bit, but we weren’t confined to the house for hour by hour feedings. Instead, Henry woke up around 7:30, having given me a nice, 3.5 hour stretch of sleep. He ate, and then (I know, I know) against all parenting wisdom, I let him curl up next to me on my pillow in our bed. He is such a little bug! He LOVES sleeping on his side (which he can really only do with a little help just yet), so I held him next to me and we dozed in and out for the next two hours…absolute mommy bliss in my book! We have such a cuddler on our hands, and I couldn’t enjoy it more.
From there, we resumed “normal Saturday” routine. Dad and I took turns getting ready while the other took care of the little man, Henry got a bath (also a mommy favorite), and then we ventured downtown for coffee and a bagel, the Farmer’s Market, and a nice walk down 8th Street in between. The weather could have been warmer (or sunnier for that matter), but it was still lovely to be out and about together. Henry slept like a dream the whole time.
Back at home, we ate lunch, I fed Henry, and then he and I snoozed on the couch for the better part of 3 hours while Jason cut the grass and relaxed. Tummy time naps are growing more and more common around here (thanks to the Boppy, which allows us to cuddle up safely with the kiddo). When we woke up, it was dinnertime for everyone. From there, we fulfilled our Memorial Day weekend obligation and bundled Henry up in the car seat for a trip to Captain Sundae, which we enjoyed from our favorite ice cream eating spot at a local park while Henry slept like…well, a baby. And now we’re back at home wrapping up the evening. I’m excited to tuck into bed tonight after one more feeding, and looking forward to church and a BBQ with friends tomorrow. What a difference a week makes, hmmm!?!
In other news, I’ve been trying to keep photos of Henry coming, but some days, I’m just too busy admiring him (ok, and changing diapers) to take very many. I’ve stock piled from yesterday and today though, and with J home, it’s a bit easier to find great photo ops. Here are few shining (and one not so shining:) Henry moments from the past few days:
Over ice cream tonight, I asked Jason, “Hey? Do you remember that one time, when we had a baby and our lives changed forever?” Yep. That pretty much sums it up. Wouldn’t trade if for the world.
loving the weekend,
mm
I’ve had a number of conversations this week revolving around community–the idea of it, the significance of it, the way it really impacts our lives and who we are. And the more and more I think about it, the more I’m affirmed in this: I crave community. I really, really do. I love being around people, and more importantly, I need to be around people. Beyond that, I need to share community with people who are authentic, open, and willing to bare themselves emotionally, spiritually and mentally for the sake of honest, deep relationship.
I feel so fortunate that God has created me this way, and I’m fairly certain that if we looked into the heart of every human being, we’d find a similar beat. I’ve met people who act as though they don’t desire community, or as if it’s not essential to their lives, but I truly believe each one of us craves communion and authenticity with others on some level. Surely, we are stretched and grown as individuals, friends, and members of the Body of Christ when we enter into deeper relationship with one another.
As we head into the weekend, and a holiday weekend at that, I’m thinking about all of the interactions I’ll have over the next few days…running into familiar faces downtown, worshipping in church, barbecuing with friends, talking with family over the phone. I don’t just look forward to these opportunities–I thrive on them. Living in community with others is a driving force for joy and a source of purpose in my daily life, and in this season, I am as keenly aware of this as I’ve ever been! I’m so thankful to be blessed with friends and family who contribute to and encourage me in my pursuit of community at every turn.
who’s with me? :)
mm
I’m so grateful for so much lately, and today was filled with even more to be thankful for. Ten things that I’ll go to bed grateful for tonight:
-4.5 consecutive hours of sleep before morning came
-Visits from two good friends, great conversation and watching them enjoy Henry as we spent time together
-A bagel with vegetable cream cheese and a decaf coffee from Panera…delivered to my doorstep!
-Spring rain and the way everything keeps greening up outside the window
-Two short but lovely naps
-Time to pick things up around the house and organize a few piles of mail that have been driving me crazy
-Getting out of the house tonight to run a few errands, pick up fresh fruits and veggies from the grocery store and have dinner with J (while Henry slept in his car seat…almost the whole time)
-Good feedings, longer naps and fun awake/play time with Henry
-A regular (not speedy) shower, time to dry my hair and a sleeping baby in the process
And last, but certainly not least…
-I got into my regular old jeans today!! I never thought my hips would go back to normal size again when I first tried to squeeze into a pair a few weeks ago, but today was a different story, and I’m SO excited. I don’t know what I was thinking trying them on so soon in the first place. After today though, I’m thinking I can start to pack away maternity jeans–and that’s a bit thrilling for this new momma.
Today was really, in so many ways, refreshing. When the little one falls asleep peacefully tonight, I most definitely will, too :)
delighted by the little things,
mm
oh, and this…because it totally made my night last night. A sneak peek at a few photos H and I had taken last week. Sheer joy!
http://www.walcottimaging.com/blog/2011/05/25/henry-newborn-photography/
…Once we settled in, I moved around the room, trying to find the best way to work through each surge as they came. Your daddy and Karlye and I, along with our nurses, functioned very much like a team. Dad and Karlye were almost always at my sides, helping to support me as I moved. I labored with you standing up, squatting, on all fours–any way that felt like it would be best as you moved closer to being born.
Without any medication, I felt every surge like a powerful wave–I could often tell what you needed, and our bodies (yours and mine) worked together through the night to help you into the world. The whole time, I used deep breathing and relaxation techniques that we’d learned in our natural childbirth classes, and Karlye and dad often reminded me to let all of the tension out of my body, which helped me to focus more on you. I even insisted that we play my favorite relaxation CD over and over–it kept me calm in a lot of moments, but I think everyone else was relieved when you were born and we could finally take it off repeat :)
I remember so much of that night in crystal clear detail. As the hours went by, I continued to find renewed strength every time I thought about seeing your precious face. Twice in labor, I had a hard time believing that I could give birth to you without any pain relief, but those moments were fleeting. With so much support around me, we made it past that doubt and kept working together until you came. At one point, your heart rate would drop with each surge. Everyone got a little nervous for a few minutes, but I began laboring on my left side and you recovered quickly, and well. We were able to keep going the way we had been, one surge at a time, one deep breath at a time.
Each time that the nurses wanted to check my progress, I decided not to find out how things were moving along. This helped me to stay focused, and to eliminate any discouragement I might have otherwise felt. As it turns out, you were doing beautifully in your own timing. Late into the night, when I asked Karlye how things were coming along, you were right there, ready; we were about to meet you for the first time.
Our doctor that night was one of the doctors from the practice, and she turned out the be the perfect person to help usher you into the world. As the moment got close, she and the nurses began moving around quickly, prepping everything for your arrival. They brought in a mirror, so I could watch as you were born–with every surge you were more present and I was more motivated. Again, we worked together through every push. Our doctor was encouraging in every way, and so were Karlye and your dad. I felt so supported, and I was so excited; even though the pain was intense, it was lessened by the way I felt about having you in my arms. We were almost there!
The minute you were born, our doctor and the nurses had to work a little extra to make sure your shoulders didn’t get hurt on the way. At exactly 3:00am, you made your birthday official, and they lifted you up and onto my chest, rubbing you with towels to warm you up and get you crying. Even in your new, wrinkled, funny-colored state, you were the most perfect thing I’d ever seen. Dad announced, “It’s a boy!” and Karlye took pictures. I counted your fingers and toes. We couldn’t take our eyes off of you.
After a few minutes, dad cut your umbilical cord and you cozied up on top of me. The feeling of your skin on my skin and your hand wrapped around my finger was the greatest thing I’d ever experienced to date. You were finally here! The doctor and nurses wanted to know if you had a name right away, and without hesitation, you were officially Henry David. To look at you was to know that it was the perfect name. You had been Henry all along.
When the nurse weighed and measured you, we were surprised to find out that you were nine pounds! Your official stats were 9lbs. 0 oz., and 20.5 inches long. I memorized the numbers that I’d soon be sharing in phone call after phone call as we let friends and family know you had arrived. Things in the room quickly quieted down. Karlye made her way home, everything was cleaned up and after a while, we were left to have time as a family, just us. Life as we knew it would never, ever be the same, and we were thrilled about it!
On the day you were born, you were celebrated in grand fashion as we shared the news with everyone we love. Your grandmas and grandpas came all the way from Chicago to meet you before you were even 24 hours old. You made April 25th a red letter day for each one of us–the first day of your life will always be marked as one of the most perfect days in mine.
Henry David, you are the most wonderful, miraculous, heaven-sent little boy, and the best gift that God could have ever given us as a family. We are different for having you and knowing you, and our lives will be forever enhanced by yours. As your mommy, I could not have asked for anything more wonderful than the task of learning you and loving you, each and every day.
Today you’re a month old and I can hardly believe it! We’ve been through a lot together already, and there is so much more to come. The Lord bless you and keep you. The Lord make His face to shine upon you and be gracious to you; the Lord turn His face toward you and give you peace. Num. 6.24-26
love you forever, like you for always, as long as i’m living…
your mommy (mm)
Dear Henry,
For nine months and a balance of days, you were tucked away inside of me. You grew miraculously, starting from nothing and becoming an entire, perfect and perfectly formed little baby–loved by everyone around you as soon as we knew you would come to be. Carrying you was magical; as my belly became round and full of life and movement, you captivated me with your frequent kicks and nightly hiccups. Daily, you reminded me that I was actually doing the one thing I have always wanted the most…becoming your mom.
As the weeks went by and your due date got closer, I hinted at days on the calendar and suggested (against stereotype) that you, our first born, would come early. I had my eye on Easter, and although I’m not sure how, I had some innate awareness of when you would arrive. The nearer we came to April 24th, the more your impending birth became tangible to me. My body was showing all of the right signs, and we were already working together, you and I.
On Easter morning, daddy and I got up and ready to celebrate Easter together in church. The service was beautiful, and like always, you moved to the sounds of worship music and the message, delighting me in a way only you could ever do. Afterward, we shared Easter dinner with good friends, laughing over egg hunts and enjoying the beautiful, sunny Spring weather that had finally arrived. When we got home that afternoon, I wanted to take a family walk, and so we did. We packed Kruger up in the car and headed out to a nearby trail where we could hike some stairs. I was really hoping that this would help to encourage your arrival, and together we made our way–two hundred stairs or so up to the top of the dune. Then, we wound around the trail until we made it back to where we’d started. I was tired, but happy. It was already a perfect day.
When we came home, I called your great grandma’s house to wish everyone a happy Easter. I was resting on the living room couch on the phone with her when I felt a “pop,” and I got up to tell your daddy that my water had just broken. I checked the clock–it was exactly 4:30pm. We were hoping to keep the start of labor very private, so that it would be “just us” as a family, so I didn’t even tell Grandma Donna that you were on your way. I talked to a few more people before getting off the phone, but I didn’t say a word about my contractions, which had started at the same time. By the time I got off the phone, your daddy was anxiously waiting to see how he could help and what we needed to do. I called our doula, Karlye, to let her know that things had started, and against all rational wisdom, I decided I should write one more blog entry before we settled into labor. Your daddy was very supportive as I started having surges closer and closer together. I tried to write in between, and even talked to your Aunt Bridget for a while on the phone before it was too hard to do much talking anymore. All the while, dad worked around the house to get things ready, and when more surges came, he supported me and we leaned into each other to get through them. In a matter of hours, they were coming on quick and strong.
Around 7:30pm, we called Karlye again to tell her that I was having surges quite close together. I couldn’t talk through them anymore, and I was getting nervous about how I felt. Karlye listened to one surge, then suggested that we might consider making our way to the hospital soon. Everything was happening so much faster than I thought it would! I had imagined that you would take your time, and that we’d be at home for a long while before having you, but you had other ideas. We never thought we’d feel like we were “rushing” to the hospital, just a block and a half away, but it sure felt like rushing then. When we got out of the car, I had another surge outside the Emergency room doors, and again while we waited in triage. I’m sure that everyone in the waiting room got a good show as I clung to your daddy and worked through the next few minutes.
From there, the hospital staff wheeled me quickly to the birthing center. Your dad and I had a laugh (kind of) when the man pushing me took us to the wrong floor. All I wanted to do was get out of that chair, but we made our way back down to the birth center first. Arriving there, the nurse I saw waiting for us was a friend from church–in that moment, I felt like God was saying that everything was going to be just fine–that He had it all taken care of. Even though I was already excited to know you were on your way, a huge sense of peace came over me when I saw Melissa. We made it to our hospital room around 8:30pm, and everything became very, very real. It would only be a matter of time before we welcomed you and held you, laying eyes on you for the very first time. I could hardly wait…
to be continued tomorrow, little one. love you, more than you know,
your mommy (mm)
How time flies! I cannot believe that four whole weeks have passed us by–they’ve literally flown, day by day off of the calendar, and here we are staring a four week old baby (a one month old on Wednesday!) and the month of June in the face. May has been very sneaky, tip toeing past me as I sit with Henry from feeding to feeding and nap to nap. And as much as I have been so challenged by all that’s happened in these past four weeks, it’s true that they are gone “in a blink” like everyone said they would be; and I’m relieved and taking a deep breath and a little melancholy over all of it at the same time.
Henry is marvelous. I know I’m willed to say that as his mother, but my “mommyness” aside, I would still be in awe of the chance to watch an entire human being enter the world, then change and grow and develop into someone who has his very own personality and faces, inclinations and preferences–all in such a short time! Creation is so powerful. I can’t understand how anyone who has witnessed pregnancy, birth or the development of an newborn could question the possibility of God. His fingerprints have been everywhere on this journey.
As we approach the one month mark and life begins to return to some semblance of normal (although new and relatively unrecognizable compared to its previous state), I am preparing my heart and my mind, as well as my passion for the written word, to dip back into things that are just as much “mollymadonna” as they are baby and Henry and birth and the like. Undoubtedly, Henry will maintain a strong presence here on the blog and in my reflection of things, but this season of focused writing is winding down and another is winding up. I can feel it. The timing is right. And I have a catalogue of 120 some odd days of life as it began, both with and for Henry.
I am thrilled that what started out as a little self-challenge has become a collection of love-filled anecdotes and reflections for our little boy. In this process, I wanted only to honor him and the person he was becoming as he grew in my belly, and post-birth, to honor his new and powerful presence in our lives. I hope that I’ve done so here.
Tomorrow and the next day will be the final posts in my series of “days” for Henry, but what follows will be the beginning of something else. I don’t quite know what that will look like yet, but I’m excited to discover it as I go! I haven’t quite told Henry’s birth story here yet, and I think it would be the perfect conclusion to this season of days. As Henry turns one month old and I look back on all of the beauty that has surrounded us since his arrival, I recognize that the way he came into the world has had so much to do with how we have welcomed and embraced him in the days following his birth. I’m looking forward to sharing…
Thank you for journeying with me, and with us. And please don’t stop visiting :) I still plan to blog daily, but will hopefully bring new and fresh things to the table for those who join me here. Until then, another day has gone by, and another few moments with Henry have made their way to our photo collection:
looking forward to what’s next!
mm
Last night, I put Henry down for bed just after midnight. I looked at the clock and thought, “Ok, Henry. 2:15 would be great. 3:15, even better.” Given his one hour feeding needs all day long, I figured that a two or three hour stretch was pushing it, but I was hopeful. And I did wake up at 2:15, then 3:15. I peeked at the clock at 5:15. But Henry was still sleeping. I woke to a little sound from the pack ‘n play at 6:07am. Henry had slept–subsequently allowing me to sleep, for six straight hours.
In new mommy terms, this is bliss. I haven’t slept for six hours straight since before Henry was born. I set my feet on the ground and felt like a completely new person. I had no idea how sweet it could be…
From there, the morning was lovely. Henry fed and went back to sleep, giving me one more hour to rest and store up reserve for the day. Until mid-afternoon, we had a regular kind of day (although this was our first Sunday spent in the infant calming room at church :). And then we resumed our near-hourly feedings again.
At the moment, I am enjoying a short break away from the feeding marathon while dad entertains the little guy. He is WIDE awake, but quiet, taking things in and maintaining a welcome level of calm across the room. I have U2 Lullabies playing on the computer, and I honestly think it’s doing the trick. We’ll see what tonight holds, but I can only keep my fingers crossed that we’re headed in a new direction. If I know that six hours of sleep is coming at night, I can make it through a whole stack of feedings during the day, right?
We’ll spend a bit longer tonight living out the tail end of the weekend and trying to learn a little more about what Henry really needs. I’ve never loved someone so much, nor been so stretched, so quickly by getting to know someone in this intimate a way.
love to the bug, and sleep. hours and hours,
mm
*fave photo of the day, from J’s phone:
Driving home from the hospital tonight after meeting a dear friend‘s sweet new baby girl, I had a few moments to embrace the joy that was so present in the hospital room–the kind that comes from cradling a day old baby and visiting with two delighted parents as they share their love for someone who has, and will, change their lives forever.
Today was a rough day for me in mommy-land. When it was fresh, I had grandiose ideas of a family trip down to the farmer’s market, a walk downtown and a picnic in the park. With a forecast boasting 78 degrees and sunny, I was determined to make the most of what I thought could be a picture perfect Saturday. But this was before I knew that Henry would want to feed every hour from 6:15am on, that I’d still (begrudgingly) be in pajamas at 11am, that I’d change clothes a few times due to feeding mishaps, and that we’d still be sitting in the living room trying to sort out the day just before 2pm. We did make it downtown eventually, scrapping the farmer’s market and picnic altogether, and we made it about 45 minutes–with dad rocking Henry the whole time, before the rain started and we headed back home.
This was not one of my shining moments as a mom. Admittedly frustrated with not being able to satisfy the little guy, I just wanted to give up trying. I never want to give up on Henry, of course, but the idea of being his sole source of food and nourishment can be overwhelming at times, and today was no exception. Thankfully, after we returned home and I fed Henry one more time, he had tired himself out enough for us both to get in a nap. It’s amazing, but two hours of sleep feels like an entire night in this newborn season, and I woke up with fresh eyes for the night ahead.
Naturally, I was thrilled to be able to sneak away (after feeding Henry again) to meet a precious new baby and to be away from the house for a little while. And although I was only gone just over an hour, the “quiet” time away was much needed after a day like today. The drive home was reflective and sweet, as “In Christ Alone” played on the radio and I was reminded once again that there truly is redemption in every single day. I came home to a still-fussy baby, more feeding and more wondering how to make life easier for Henry…for all of us. But I am a bit more able to manage than I was earlier.
Perspective is a beautiful thing, and God was gracious to me tonight. He is always attentive to our needs in the hard spaces, and as it turns out, He had His hand on me–on us, and on one more day. Although we’re facing a rough patch and needing a little more tangible encouragement than we might always require, I’m so grateful to be able to see where God is waiting when I’m desperately craving the kind of comfort that only He can provide.
challenged to embrace the hard things, the lessons, and the sweet new things in life tonight,
mm
*undoubtedly, there are more moments like this in our future:
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