MollyMadonna.com

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the napping house. (4)

A sleepy spell has officially fallen over the little blue house today. Mostly, I’m just so thankful that there’s room in our lives and schedules to permit it–a gift that’s not lost on me at all right now. With contractions not discriminating between day and night for the past week and then some, I am one sleepy mama a lot of the time. It’s just about the greatest thing that I have help on hand and almost zero plans each day for the time being.

Grace is the real deal, if anyone should doubt it.

Our ever energetic Eloise has been extra snuggly and quiet today, nearly falling asleep at the lunch table around noon. She is just about over her afternoon nap, but today she curled up and was out in about two minutes flat. I love the dreamy napping opportunities that arise when they still do–it’s a sweet thing to see your little ones rest peacefully, isn’t it? Henry was having a rough go this morning, so I sent him upstairs for quiet reading time as well, and together, we’ve all had a good (and much needed) dose of silence for a few hours. I didn’t nap, because my mind is really busy, but I’m so appreciative of the chance to think without input coming in from all sides.

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Mom has been working on a large pot of homemade chicken noodle soup in the kitchen, and it’s my very favorite. The smell wafting in from the other room is the perfect antidote to the ebbing and flowing contractions-for-days blues that I’m working hard to battle. I know baby will be here in his or her timing, and I’m really happy that God is in control and I’m not. At the same time, every time my contractions start up again, the hope wells up in me that baby is almost here; I’m just so eager to see our little one soon. Normal, end of pregnancy sentiments, to be sure.

Each night the kids go to bed saying things like, “If the baby is here in the morning…” and “When the baby comes we’ll…” and it’s all very true and good. The itch to introduce them to their newest sibling is pure and honest, and I know it’s ever closer. Tonight will call for early bedtimes for all and another chance to seek the beautiful in the ordinary (and especially in the sacred gift of carrying this baby within for as long as God has ordained).

I am so thankful for the glorious fall breeze coming in our windows all day long, the sun pouring through the trees all afternoon. It’s a great time to celebrate the time we have now, and to think of all the good that is to come.

snuggled up and cozy (and contracting like a boss 😉 ),

mm

 

 

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little bean. (5)

Dear Beautiful Baby,

It’s early in the morning here, and I can tell you are working hard to prepare to join us. I keep trying to imagine what it must feel like to be stirred from the cozy, calm space where you’ve rested and grown for your whole life up until now. This has been such a process for us both–me, anticipating you, and you, tucked inside, not knowing what is to come in these next days or weeks or months or years. I wonder if it’s scary to be making your way, or if it just feels right, as all good things do in their time.

Each day I wake up thinking this might be the day we meet you and hold you and begin loving you with our eyes and hands and gentle care. I have envisioned the moment I see you for the first time, over an over again.

Will you have an abundance of hair on your sweet head, or almost none? Will you curl your fingers and toes tightly together, or will they open wide to stretch and greet the world with your first cry? Will you stare, eyes wide open, adjusting to the bright light and chilly air, or will you blink back to sleep as you snuggle in quickly next to me? My heart bursts at the thought of discovering all of these moments with you.

This journey toward the day you are born has been the most mysterious one yet for me as a mama. I have never really known all along just who you are or who you are going to be. All of the speculating and guessing has kept me fixated on hope and the anticipation of really getting to meet you–this tiny person God has created and grown to come and join our family soon. Will you be a busy baby, or a quiet, curious one? Will you tip the scales for the boy team to your brother’s delight, or will you enthrall your sister with the news of your being a baby girl? No matter, we will all love you with a deep and fierce love that is just waiting to burst forth. God has prepared a place for you here.

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I have no way of knowing what the next days or hours will hold, but as the sun rises this morning, turning the sky all shades of pink and purple before coming into view, I can’t help but think that your arrival will be much like the sunrise…expected, but unexpected; predictable, and yet, unknown. Breathtaking, both of you. You are every bit as wondrous as this day and the unmistakable beginning of something beautiful and amazing, stamped with the indelible image of God in ways I can’t possibly know but will take the utmost delight in discovering.

I love you, sweet baby, in all of your mystery and miracle. Come when you are ready. For now, I’ll hold you safely right here.

always and always,

your mama

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dune with a view. (6)

It’s a perfect fall day in West MI, and we had to take advantage of 68Âș F and sunshine by taking a family walk up a nearby dune. The hike is 239 steps, which I was eager to tackle in an effort to help encourage baby to join us soon. The last time I navigated a dune staircase this far along in pregnancy, I was in labor about an hour later (great job, Hank!). We’ll see if the bean gets excited over the same kind of activity, but either way, it really felt great to get the exercise, and I’m thankful for more time together today on such a beautiful Saturday afternoon.

There’s not a whole lot else to report…fit in some extra cleaning this morning that was kind of on the back burner of things to do to pass the time. The pieces to baby’s mobile arrived today, so now I can work on the finishing touch for the nursery, too.

Each morning, I wake up a little bummed that baby hasn’t decided to make an appearance yet. At the same time, I’m really not trying to wish time away, and each day has little (or big) moments of beauty in it that we would have missed if we were already in the hospital. Once I push past some of the emotion that comes with waiting for babe and being so pregnant, I’m glad I can find reasons why it’s just not time yet to meet our littlest bundle.

Last night I was up with contractions on and off for a long time. I sat in the living room and rocked in the rocker, bounced on the exercise ball, re-read my go-to book on encouragement for labor and delivery, talked to the bean, and prayed. Although I was hopeful that the contractions would lead to active labor, there was a sweetness about that time alone with our babe in the middle of the night. I know it was a sneak preview of many nights to come, where we rock together or I pray over our little one while nursing and resting in the quietest hours.

Discovering the marrow in these days is doing another heart work in me that I couldn’t see coming, just as it always is with God and blessings and unexpected time. While we’re waiting, there is much to be soaked up in the minutes and hours when I have the privilege of loving baby on the inside. Soon enough, he or she will be beautifully present in our world in a different way, and no doubt, another heart work will begin to take place in me as I find new marrow in the change of seasons, the shrinking of my belly as a sacred space, and the growing of our wee one in our lives.

practicing my ability to enjoy the view, from wherever I am.

mm

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better than Christmas. (7)

I saw a friend at the coffee shop today, and she couldn’t remember whether we knew if baby was a boy or girl. When I told her we didn’t know, she replied, “I LOVE THAT! It’s such a great surprise. It’s better than Christmas!!” Her sentiment and encouragement were a straight shot to my heart today.

I couldn’t agree more: waiting for baby elicits the same feeling for me that I remember having as a little girl at Christmastime. There’s so much anticipation, and the countdown, and the wondering what gifts will be wrapped with our names on them under the tree. It’s so very good.

Admittedly, I’m like a kid at Christmas in other ways right now, too…I feel a bit antsy and jumpy, and I’m not on my best behavior. I’m distracted as all get out. I’m so thankful to have my mom in town this week–she is a willing buffer as I attempt to parent and tend to things around the house with only some success in these past few days. She has cooked and played with the kids and suggested naps and made space for me to write. We’d all be in rough shape if she weren’t here.

There’s just something so right about having your mama around when you’re focused on becoming a mama (again) yourself. I keep thinking about how much I would love to do the same if and when Eloise is expecting someday. Crazy to think about that now with our three year old, but I know I’ll blink and she’ll be all grown up. Plus, these mama hormones make me consider all of the sappy things lately, so I’m fairly sure it’s just part of the gig.

We continue to stay busy with the things I can think of that would be good to accomplish before baby comes, but without adding much of any kind of stress to our days. Henry got a haircut today and we walked for a bit downtown. The kiddos ran around for a little while to let off some energy. We sat at the coffee shop for a while. It’s lovely to go slowly, and I’m so grateful that we don’t have to move at a different pace. I don’t think I have a different speed to offer, anyway 😉

As our pre-baby days wind down, my heart longs for this better-than-Christmas surprise, but I keep trying to find ways to embrace time on this side of pregnancy, too. I do love carrying a baby inside, and the miracle and mystery of it all never ceases to amaze me. If ever I’ve unwrapped a favorite gift, it’s been these babies we’re so blessed to care for. I know that our little bean will be no different.

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’tis the season!

mm

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he sees you. (8)

I’ve been thinking about it. There’s not a family member or friend in my sphere right now who isn’t juggling the balance of the celebratory parts of life along with the deep, deep painful parts, too. It’s so hard, not being able to fix all of the hurt around me, especially when it feels like it just. keeps. coming. I want to offer some kind of healing balm–applying it to all of the hardest places and the raw, open wounds, but I can’t exactly do that.

It doesn’t feel quite as simple as offering a cartoon themed bandaid and a kiss to a little one after a fall. In that case, if the bandaid doesn’t fix everything, the kiss will, or vice versa. But when the hurts come from the inside, or they’re hiding, or there seems to be no cure in sight, what’s the answer?

In this waiting period of pregnancy, right at the end before we meet this new life and our sweet baby, I feel like I’m even more sensitive to the hurts swirling around me. I feel like I’m more sensitive to the best balm I can offer, too. It’s the only one I know that’s fail proof.

At the risk of sounding cliché, what heals the most in my experience is the growing confidence that God sees every one of my hurts. He can meet me there, and he will. I wish more than anything that everyone I know and love could put their confidence in the same truth.

I didn’t used to believe that God was so personal, and my hurts felt deeper, harder, and without hope every time.

It’s taken me so long to own this truth for myself–that God sees me and desires to meet me. But it’s times like this, when I am fully round with a baby and leaning on all strength but my own, that I can feel so tangibly just how much God will enter in with us if we let him. Each time that I’m struggling through a part of this process, I ask in faith for help and guidance and God is there. It’s simple and it isn’t. I’ve had to work through loads of doubt to land here…to approach trust in God with more faith than I think I’m capable of, all the while pushing back fear at every turn.

There’s a lot of loss and heartache and sadness lingering everywhere I look–fear, disappointment and self-doubt ravaging the lives of people I love most, the enemy hungry to claim lives and souls and circumstances at the ready. But I can pray, and God can change hearts–I hang my hat on that.

I can pray, and God can enter in. And he can turn fear into trust and mourning into dancing–I’ve seen him do it. The peace he offers is bigger than any pain the enemy can throw at us. Hope and healing are readily available when we trust God with our lives and the lives of those we love.

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I love this baby still growing inside of me. And I have had my fair share of worries and fear along the way as I’ve carried him or her for over nine months. Even at the tail end of this pregnancy, I have to fend off lies and doubt so many times a day. But the freedom is worth fighting for, because I’m longing to experience a labor and delivery that honors God and what he has done in growing this life within me.

If I can trust that God has woven a baby together from nothing, I can believe that he sees our precious little one and knows it far better than I do. I can trust that he desires only good for our baby, and for me as the vessel he’s used to carry it thus far. He sees me. He sees you, too. And he sees our hurts and challenges and those of the people we love, and he can meet us in them. He can even overcome them when we ask for help.

I’ve asked for God’s help a lot lately, and I’m going to keep asking. I’m trusting that he loves me enough never to tire of my invitation to join me in what’s hard and to cover me in his grace and peace.

Praying for all of the hurt and loss and loneliness I see around me today. I’d love to know how I can pray for you, too.

love,

mm

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good in the ordinary. (9)

I didn’t plan much for this week for obvious reasons. We’ve got our usual commitments, but I’ve not been beholden to much else, and I’m so glad for that. I’m good for one relatively short outing each day, and it’s been fun just to decide on something enjoyable each morning. Monday offered space for time downtown. Yesterday we went to the library. Today we brought home a bounty from the farmer’s market, in between summer’s last rain storm hurrahs. I love a big summer storm, and I love the market. There’s so much good in the ordinary.

37 books out of the library yesterday, and the receipt still doesn't quite make it around this belly. Should've made it 40+. ;)

37 books out of the library yesterday, and the receipt still doesn’t quite make it around this belly. Should’ve made it 40+. 😉

Spending time at home right now is a blessing–these quieter mornings leave little pressure on anyone, and if extra chores or to dos get done in the midst of our slower pace, they’re just a lovely bonus. I’ve stopped feeling the need to get more done (hallelujah!). Now, I’m just minding my body’s cues and soaking up as much kiddo snuggle time as I can.

The decision to homeschool Henry this fall has been one of the greatest blessings in the mix of so much change in our lives. I feel peaceful about it, and affirmed in a new ways each day. I never imagined having such confidence in the decision, but it has been balm to my mama’s heart to have Henry with us and to watch as he and Eloise continue to embrace their sibling hood as they do. Henry is flourishing in areas I’d not be able to witness if he were in the classroom five days a week. Such simple joy!

Today marks the end of summer, and tomorrow, the start of fall. If baby holds tight just another handful of hours (as I suspect he or she will), we’ll have a spring baby, a summer baby, and an autumn baby in our midst very soon. Wandering the farmer’s market today in the cooler breeze pushed me right over the edge into fall mode, which I’ll admit feels exactly right and so timely.

Together we’ll tuck in a little more in the days to come. We’ll swaddle in blankets and snuggle in cardigans with tea and good books and a sleepy newborn. We’ll wander through the neighborhood, crunching leaves under our feet as we walk baby in the stroller, and we’ll decorate pumpkins and drink cider and stir hot soup or chili on the stove. For a summer girl, these ideas are usually a little off-putting at first glance. I always hate to see summer go. But this year? I am so ready to embrace autumn. It’s a beautiful time of year, and it feels like leaning into it is the very best thing we could do.

These days of ordinary are each like carefully wrapped gifts–time I might otherwise take for granted that, in light of waiting for baby, feel like extras I didn’t want to count on but am happy to hold with care. The number of times Henry or Eloise has snuggled me tighter this past week are too numerous to count. It seems we can all sense the joy that is about to come, but with hearts soaking up the good that has been here all along.

so very full in every way,

mm

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i wish that… (10)

…I knew what I know now, when I was younger…

That’s how the song goes, right?

So this is the third go around with being quite close to baby time, and the truth is, I’m not actually sure I know a whole lot more now than I did the first time. I’m pretty ok with that. There’s no getting around the fact that babies come in their own timing, in different and frequently surprising ways. Isn’t that part of the fun of it all?

There have been so many times this pregnancy that someone has said to me, “Oh, I could never do that!” regarding not knowing baby’s gender, or attempting another unmedicated, natural birth. I have to say, I believe that anyone can do anything within reason, and not knowing baby’s gender (at least for us), is not outside of reason at all. When we were born, moms and dads couldn’t know baby’s gender at all before delivery. Sometimes moms even delivered twins without knowing there were two babies inside until the second one made its appearance. How on earth did everyone possibly survive?!?!

When I’m out with the kids, strangers often assume that we don’t know what we’re having this time because we already have a boy and a girl. Really, we don’t know because not knowing is fun for us when baby time comes. I love to plan, and in this case, I also love the element of sweet surprise.

Here’s what I know now that I didn’t know before having babies: the whole process is, to quote a Disney/Pixar character, “A mysteeeerious mystery.” We just can’t know everything. And we can’t plan everything, and I think that’s the way God intended it. I have great memories of delivering Eloise three years ago, but when I look back on all of the photos from that day, I have to admit there are parts I’ve probably blocked out of my memory. If I’d known all of the details before heading into the hospital that day, I don’t know if I would have had the guts to go through with it.

There’s something about the unknown that’s beautiful.

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I’d be lying to say that I don’t want to meet this baby. As in, right now. I’ve had contractions every night for over a week, and each time I think, “Oh, this could be it!” and when it’s not, I’m a little disheartened. Of course I’m waiting with great anticipation, and so is Jason, and so are the kids…I can’t wait for us to be able to call them and tell them to come and meet their new baby brother or sister.

But the waiting is sweet, too. I’m at the mercy of God and nature and baby’s timing, and it’s all out of my hands. How often we’re able to control and finagle things so they’ll go just a certain way–and what a unique circumstance not to control things at all in this case. I can have peace about God knowing this baby’s birthday, even though I have no idea when he or she will actually arrive.

What else do I know now? I know that no matter how much I prepare or fret or fidget or pack, I would do best just to rest–both physically and mentally, and to allow this baby to experience being carried around by a calm and unwavering vessel in these winding down days. I’m not the poster child for this, but I’m happy to say that there are pockets in each day where I’m trying.

Vulnerability is hard, but the alternative is harder. My hands are as open as they can be in this process, despite wanting to have a grip on the details.

One last thing I know…God is writing a narrative for this baby that is far greater than what I can comprehend. The stories he weaves for our lives are always better than the ones we can dream up, and while I’m dreaming up a pretty great story in my head, I’ve no doubt God will craft an even better one.

When I was younger, I always tried to write the story on my own. Nowadays, I’m relinquishing the control I never *actually* had, and a little bit better all of the time. On the days when I’m great at it, I can lean in and laugh and rest and be my fullest self. And on the days when I’m not so great at letting go? I hear words like this whisper in the back of my mind, “The LORD will fight for you; you need only to be still.” -Ex. 14.14 I may need that message on repeat for a lifetime.

practicing being still, and learning all of the time,

mm

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come sail away. (11)

It’s official. With the exception of one last detail (that is still a week or two out in the mail yet), the Bean’s nursery is ready and waiting. I’m delighted that it came together in time for Gramma to arrive to use it as a guest room for a bit, and I feel like I’ve crafted a space that will be peaceful for rocking times and nursing and just getting to know our sweet baby better. I can’t wait to spend time here with our little babe soon!

I always look forward to sharing a new space with you, and this may be my favorite to date. I wanted to keep things really neutral and mellow for baby number three, so I kept that in mind when curating the space. Inspired by a Land of Nod activity mat that I loved the first time I spotted it, and it was easy for me to decide on an ocean/water theme from there. I don’t have the mat out in the room yet because baby won’t need it for a bit, but I love how everything else came together around it.

Whether baby is a boy or a girl, I think I can slant the space to skew in either direction. A few splashes of pink or some additional olive and navy will make it more gender specific. For now though, I’m just loving that it feels like baby…there’s a lot that settles for me once there’s a room ready for each of our little ones. Without further ado, here’s the reveal (Links to products mentioned can be found at the end of this post):

A sweet little welcome banner for babe, courtesy of theprettypen.com.

A sweet little welcome banner for babe, courtesy of theprettypen.com. Reclaimed wooden rack with hooks from a local vintage shop, Painted Farmgirl, in West MI.

 

Our new nursery/guest room. I love having a twin bed in the nursery--thinking it will be great for nights when baby is up at long stretches, or if any one of the kiddos is having a rough night, since our bedroom is on a different floor.

Our new nursery/guest room. I love having a twin bed in the nursery–thinking it will be great for nights when baby is up at long stretches, or if any one of the kiddos is having a rough night, since our bedroom is on a different floor.

 

It was such a joy to piece this room together over time. Thanks for letting me share it with you! The beauty in having nearly nine months to dream about a space is that nothing need be rushed–sweet elements can be added here and there for a long while, allowing me–for some time, to be in and out of the room where our little one will rest and grow before I ever rock or set him or her down to sleep here. I pray that the peace I feel in the room today will be evident to baby for a long time to come. He or she will be here so soon to call it home. I can’t wait!

As promised, links to items and retailers mentioned/pictured above are down below. Sweet dreams!

xo,

mm

The Pretty Pen

Land of Nod “Be on the Sea” Activity Floor Mat (not pictured)

Land of Nod “Hangin’ Around” Ceiling Light

Painted Farmgirl Vintage Flea Market

Skip Hop Moonlight and Melodies Nightlight Soother

Pottery Barn Kids Kendall Twin Bed

Pottery Barn Kids Low Profile Kendall Convertible Crib 

Pottery Barn Pick-Stitch Handcrafted Quilt and Sham

Jellycat Wilbur the Whale

Dock A Tot (use this link for $10 off your Dock A Tot purchase)

Angel Dear Blue Whale Blankie (and lots of other animal options, too)

Pillowfort Whale Shelf

 

*This post does contain an affiliate link.

 

 

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what does it look like? (12)

It’s easy enough to live in a box. Easy enough to look at how the world does things, or how the people around us do things, and then to lock ourselves into those images and limitations, believing that our pictures should look the same.

I woke up this morning, having rested a fair amount for this stage, and still felt so unbelievably tired. I cried to Jason, telling him “I’m not just tired, but all of the kinds of tired.” Weary, worn, emotionally spent, running out of steam in my own mental race against days and the physical things and the actual clock on the wall. This unrest is not from God, I know, but from the enemy we face who constantly tries to steal, kill and destroy. He is relentless, and yet our God is still bigger.

I even tried to rest in that truth this morning, but I couldn’t quite get there.

We decided that I’d go to church on my own, and that Jason and the kids would stay home. Our church is currently doing a series on sex, and while I’m grateful to belong somewhere that is unafraid to face real issues, it’s not the series we feel most comfortable bringing the kids to right now. In light of all of the germs that inevitably come home from Sunday school at this time of year, we’re pretty set on having the kids with us in church at least until baby is settled in, which leaves us with a few options. This morning, it felt like some worship time for me and some down time for the rest of the family was a good choice.

I got ready for church and was set to go, and then I sat down on our bed and tried to soak in a small slice of peace and quiet instead. The thought of wandering the halls at church and having people comment on this belly and my due date and then the inevitable, uninvited tummy rubs and pats was just too much for me today. Maybe that shows a sign of personal weakness, but I really don’t mind if it does. It’s just the truth.

I wasn’t really able to see past church, or missing church, or whatever the morning should look like, and then Jason suggested I needed to just get out and be elsewhere for a while. It’s true that when I’m at home, I just keep seeing more and more things I think I should do or that actually need to get done. Breaking out of that particular box is, evidently, quite hard for me right now.

I just needed to go through the motions to get past my sticking point, so I packed a bag with a few things and some noise canceling headphones, and I got in the car. At the coffee shop just a few blocks away, I pulled into an empty parking lot and walked into a quiet, unpopulated space. I ordered a bagel and a latte and sat down in my favorite booth, way at the back. I put headphones on, cranked up worship music, and blocked everything else out.

Space. In spite of being so grateful to share space with this baby most of the time, I’m just craving space in the worst way. Unconventional, perhaps, but church for me this morning has looked like this:

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Not so much like a pew in the midst of a congregation, but me and God, alone in a booth in the back of a coffee shop.

“This is what I call fake-resting. I’m wearing pajamas…It looks like I’m resting, too, but I’m not. I’m ticking down an endless list, sometimes written, always mental, getting things back into their right spots, changing the laundry, wiping down the countertops…I fake-rested instead of real-rested, and then I found that I was real-tired…Part of being an adult is taking responsibility for resting your body and your soul.” -Shauna Niequist

Maybe I could have learned something valuable about sex from Song of Songs this morning, but I think God was trying to meet me somewhere else. It’s why I felt stopped up in the bedroom as I was ready to leave for church. It’s why Jason prompted me to get out and get quiet–there’s just not a whole lot of quiet happening in our house these days, and he knew I desperately needed it. It’s why Kari Jobe has poured into my ears for the past hour and a half, and why I’ll find my right place back at home for the rest of the day when I return.

Sunday morning church could not be put in a box for me this morning. It looked like a tea latte and a bagel and a book.

***

Before I left the house to come here, I stopped Henry for a minute and asked if we could talk. I apologized for being so tired, and explained just why I feel like I do these days. I asked him, “You know how, when you’re super tired sometimes, everything just feels a bit harder?” His reply: “Not really, Mom. I never really get very tired.”

How true that is, and it’s because our babies instinctively know how to rest. They rest when they need it, and they (mostly) sleep long hours through the night. The weight of things I let myself carry do not fall on the shoulders of our babies, and thank goodness.

The message in “church” for me this morning is coming in louder and clearer: Molly, let yourself be more of a child who trusts me, and less of an adult who relies on herself on all days and at all hours. Put down the box of what things should look like, and come to the table for me to show you what they actually look like.

“Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you. Be alert and of sober mind. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour. Resist him, standing firm in the faith…” -1 Peter 5.7-9

I’m going to head home to make the most of the rest of this Sabbath day. God is faithful in all things…in knowing our hearts, in seeing our needs, in providing rest. When we invite him, he meets us where we are, church pew or corner booth.

grateful,

mm

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rest up. (13)

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This natural slowing down that’s taking place is a good thing…and a hard thing. My inclination to keep moving contradicts my body’s messages to sit still, and I’m not the best listener. Busy makes the time go faster. Busy gets things done. Busy also makes me sore and crabby and a lot less likely to be refreshed when labor arrives, so I’m trying to heed the signals and slow my pace.

My walking is surely slower, but my brain is on the go.

Last night I think I saw every hour on the clock, and some of them two or three times. I woke up feeling just about as tired as I’d been when I went to bed, and meeting the needs of others this morning was a halfhearted attempt at best. I had a hard time focusing most of the day.

That being said, I realized not too far in that I didn’t need to make today work on my own. I asked God not to allow me to be in labor without rest under my belt, which immediately allowed me to stop worrying about that part. Worrying makes me more tired, as I’m sure it does everyone else.

The kids and I found things to keep busy with from lunchtime on, while Jason taught a long afternoon class elsewhere. We have all learned a new pace as a trio, and it’s been beautiful to witness the kids gaining empathy and understanding in the process of me growing this baby. I appreciate them and their hearts so much, and more than that, I appreciate how they have become such a good team together. We have our fair share of heated sibling moments around here, but at the end of the day, Henry and Eloise are best friends and partners in crime.

Tonight I’m more run down than I’ve been in a while, and I’m believing that God can provide in a way I don’t normally consider. I’m not asking for energy tonight, but for sweet sleep instead. I know he can do that, and I need to trust him that I could wake up tomorrow feeling really refreshed and ready to face the day well.

I have so few words, and still, a desire to preserve what’s here in honor of our precious babe. So rest it is for tonight. And hopefully a more alert, more present, more prepared mama will rise here in the new morning.

sleep well, all.

mm