MollyMadonna.com

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Standing in the Gap. (23)

I had a conversation today about parenting and all of the things I’m feeling right now as I try to parent well in the midst of pregnancy at this stage. It’s easy to notice where I feel I’m lacking, not just because my capacity is more limited, but because my inner critic is frequently loud and likes to speak up about so many of the things I could do better. As we get closer to baby, I’m able to give myself plenty more grace in some areas, but I still put a lot of pressure on myself, too. The healthy perfectionist is always trying to work towards a balance of these two realities, because the pressure can be good and helpful sometimes and destructive elsewhere.

At any rate, I was sharing how I feel like I’m lacking in my capacity as a mom lately, and how I know our kiddos feel the change and have their own feelings about all that’s taking shape around them. Mom is full with baby. Mom is more tired. Mom asks for more help. Mom says no to things that have previously been a yes. Those are hard shifts when you’re 4, 7.5 and 10, and I see it all for them and am calculating the cost. At the same time that it feels like a lot for kids to weather at once, it’s part of this process. Everyone making sacrifices for the sake of the whole family feels right and necessary. Still, I’d love to be capable of more than I am.

In my conversation earlier, I was reminded that in parenting, a really great, intentional parent will still fall short of what Jesus has to offer our children. While the gap between Christ and a negligent parent is significant, the gap between a great parent and Christ is (maybe smaller but) still there, because we can never be all that our children need (and we shouldn’t try). In our humanness, we can’t fill the space that only Jesus is able to take up. Not only is it ok that this is true, but it’s a saving grace to us, too.

When we pray for our children, the power of Christ, the presence of the Holy Spirit, and the love of the Father go before and behind our families. Where we can’t fill our own gaps and misgivings, God is able–and more than willing–to mend, heal, bind up, restore and resurrect what’s broken or missing. Isn’t that the best news of the day?! Being reminded that Christ will step into the space I can’t isn’t just consoling–it’s so hopeful. Our kiddos are way better off in Jesus’s care than mine any day of the week. So then, how much more impactful is a life of intentional parenting coupled with fervent requests to God for help on this journey? When I pray over our kiddos, it’s often for things in the immediate and for aspects of life down the road that feel obvious…protection, health, guidance, future spouses, a sense of who they are in Christ, the silencing of the enemy in their hearts and minds. But then, I hope to add more of this (and I’m borrowing/modifying words from another friend here, too): “Christ, be their parent in all of the ways that I couldn’t.”

Goodness. Even just typing that is relieving, because I know He has our children in His hands, that He loves them more than I could know, and that He desires to honor every request that is pleasing to Him. God’s care for our children–especially in moments when I don’t feel I can provide the level of nurturing that I’d like to myself, is far better than what I can offer on my best day. They are cared for immeasurably, no matter what.

I’ll never hope to fall short in my calling and duties as a parent, but I know it’s impossible that I’d get it all right. As with so many other things, I make mistakes in this area of life every day. The reality of Christ, waiting to meet our children where they need, when they need it, is so comforting and reassuring. Even in the areas where our kiddos will grow up and likely be able to recall some of the hard parts of life with their mom and dad, Christ will be waiting there to heal what needs healing, to restore anything that’s been broken, and to carry them forward into the life He has waiting for them. It doesn’t get much more beautiful than that. His redemption is the only redemption we could ever need…and the kids will be alright. 😉

MM

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If I Only Wrote in Friends Episodes. (24)

The One where Mom Needs a Nap. The One where the Neighborhood Chases Geese. The One with Emotions Running High. The One where the Dryer is Haunted. The One with the Half-hearted Dinner Plan.

The One where the Nursery Still Looks Like a Blank Slate. The One with No Bending Over. The One with the Zoom Call. The One where the Children Argue Over a Blanket. The One where Bedtime Doesn’t Mean Anything to Anyone. The One when Normal Chores Turn into All Day Endeavors. The One with the Negligent Facebook Marketplace User.

The One with the Useless Pregnancy Pillow. The One where Monica Mom Organizes all the Clothes Bins. The One with the Heat Wave. The One No One Wants to Talk About.

The One where There are Still No Clean Baby Clothes. The One with All the Lists. The One where the Middle of the Night Becomes Sacred. The One with the Sunrise that Says it’s All Going to be OK.

The One where Mom and Deep Cleaning Anything are on a Break. The One with the Minor Freak Out Session. The One with the Stepped on LEGO. The One where the Artwork is Still Not on the Wall Two Years Later.

The One with the Snack Plate Lunch. The One with All the Homeschool Planning. The One with the Drama. The One with the Drama, Part 2. The One with 24 Days Left on the Countdown. The One when Mom Thinks About Packing a Hospital Bag. The One with the Dancing Belly.

The One where I Sign Off for Today,

MM

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Courage, Dearheart. (25)

Are you the type of person who surrounds yourself with messages that you know your heart needs to hear? It’s taken me time to realize how much of an impact this has on my spirit, but just like anything else we feed ourselves, the right, repeated messaging goes a long way. I have a set of simple leather bracelets that each have a short encouragement engraved in them, and depending on the day, I choose one or a few or all of them to wear. Sometimes it’s a little check on the mood I’m in while getting ready in the morning, and the messages serve me all day. Today’s lone bracelet: Courage, Dearheart.

I love this one because it applies to so many things. These days, it’s usually a reminder to put one foot in front of the other and to do that well. Stepping into another 24 hours, especially as we get closer to baby, I find myself gathering the day’s new mercies and doing my best to carry them into each appointment, meeting, motherly responsibility and task. I fail at this sometimes, but little nudges here and there are helpful to spur me on. The calling to lead a life well-lived is always on my mind, and to honor that means I hope there’s trickle down into each aspect of the day, as far as I’m able to see it through. There’s no such thing as perfect in this regard, but it feels much better to aim for a glass half full than not.

Courage, Dearheart. To me this means to live boldly into what’s in front of me, to offer my best, to live without fear of what lies ahead, to advocate for myself and for my people, to set boundaries where they need to be, to choose health and healthy decisions, to let my yes be my yes and my no be my no. It means to be brave when I’m not sure I’m ready, to say what needs to be said (and with kindness as much as possible), to be who I am and who I was created to be, to trust that God’s best for me is the very thing I need. A few little words ignite a spark for me at the start of the day that gives me the fuel to step into the next moment, and lately, these are some of the words I’m embracing to do just that.

If wearing my favorite bracelets in labor was a sensible thing to do, you can bet I’d probably have them all on that day. Instead, maybe they’ll be tucked in my hospital bag for the hours and days after baby arrives. No doubt I’ll need those encouraging messages in the wee hours and when nursing and when four children is new territory, too. Words move me and I’m so thankful for it. What words are moving you lately?

MM

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Processing. (26)

I have to admit, keeping these posts coming every day for the past few months has been an undertaking this go around. It’s not that I haven’t enjoyed writing them (and certainly not that I won’t enjoy having them for our sweet honeybee), but more that I’m more taxed at the end of most days, and there’s more needed from me in all directions before I can sit down to record thoughts at the end of it all. That said, I’m sitting here tonight and recognizing again that this truly is part of my process when pregnant–the chance to write down ideas and thoughts and leave them somewhere to land is probably as cathartic as it is routine. Maybe this is one of the best areas of growth for me in pregnancy each time, just making a point to stop and record the season and the emotions and the moments I’ll be glad I didn’t just forget.

Today in church I was soaking in the feeling I have every weekend sitting or standing there–the way this little one moves around in my belly as the music plays, as we sing, as we listen to the week’s teaching. There’s little else in pregnancy that fills me up as much as those sacred moments, and I can remember them clearly from being pregnant with each baby. With H, Christmastime was so meaningful as I thought so often about Mary being with child and getting to experience that for the first time myself. I was always drawn in so deeply in church then, just as I am now, while carrying this babe. With all of our babies, times of worship have felt so rich; I can’t help but be overwhelmed by the gift of another baby growing in my belly each time. All of the words to songs stand out differently, just as they do in seasons of heartache or difficulty. To feel the depth of emotion in either direction has drawn me closer to God time and again.

As I was sitting in the pew this morning, I felt prompted to reflect on the fullness of that feeling I have with our kiddos around me and a baby tucked inside. It was another grace-filled moment of God reminding me to savor the space He held for me right then and there. Sure, there are a few more weeks to go on the calendar countdown to baby, but before I know it, we’ll hopefully file into the pew each Sunday with a baby carrier in tow. That will be a different sweetness, for sure, but it won’t be the same as the miracle of Creation happening inside of me right now. I plan to savor and embrace the coming season, too, and yet God’s nudging today was timely in recognizing that this day, right now, is something we don’t get back. It’s the only one like it. And I can see that and make the most of it, or I can squelch it and miss the blessing of it altogether. In church today, I was so thankful that God offered me the choice to soak it all in.

Today’s message was on one of my very chapters of the Bible, Psalm 91. I have read it time and time again over the years in moments of fear, worry or doubt. It’s a beautiful passage for so many reasons, and I loved the visual image repeated over and over today of God sheltering us under his wings. It’s just one of the most tangible verses in scripture to me. I love birds, and when I think about a mama bird sheltering her babies, or I think about how I feel about mothering our own children, that image is so clear and palpable to me. To be hidden in the shelter of God’s wings…that is a security that nothing else in this world can promise or provide. As we near another opportunity to welcome life into this world, the implications of that process are not lost on me at all. This ever-growing baby is going to have to go from inside to outside, and I’ll need to be a key player in making that happen. To know what I know about birth and how this process has gone for me in the past is very helpful, but it also raises extra questions about the unknowns that can come with any labor and delivery. I’m still getting my mind around what that might look like, with so many differences in our life and family and location than we’ve had in births past, not to mention all that’s different in a hospital setting now after a year+ of so many health variables in the world.

I can’t possibly know the unknowns, so I have to focus on what I do know and pray about all the rest. The most comforting known of them all is that nothing is unknown or will be a surprise to God. He has every detail written already, and He also has me–has us, under the shelter of His wings. If He didn’t, I wouldn’t feel the nudges that I do to savor a particular moment, to remember an interaction, to soak up what’s right in front of me. In His goodness, He is in the details, even as I sit down to write each night and often come to the table with little in mind of what I might say. I think it’s ok to say that God is happy to be writing the story, and I think it’s part of this journey for me to trust Him ever night that the right reflection will be there. I can’t take any credit for that; only God. In these days and weeks (and probably months) ahead, I’ll surrender more than I used to think necessary or possible, and I don’t doubt it will be for my good. God is in the details of this process and my processing, and it’s with His help that I can lay things down and trust–rest, even–under His shelter and care.

MM

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Heartbeats and Ultrasounds. (27)

Dear Baby,

All along now, I’ve done the same thing I did when I was pregnant with your brothers and sister. I’ve tried to keep everything as simple as possible where tests and medicines and doctors are concerned, and I’ve prayed a lot, trusting God with as much as I have in me to know that He has you. He does have you, always has and always will. Sometimes as your mama I forget how little I control because of how much I want to know you here–there is a deep, deep longing in my heart to see your face and learn your personality and add you to our family earth side. I think that will make sense to you one day, or at least, I hope it will. Meanwhile, God is taking care of all of the details, not me. I can do my best to grow you well and to be a safe and healthy environment for you for these weeks and months, but I can’t change however many days God has ordained for you here in the world. I just pray that they are many, and that His plans for you are great.

Yesterday in our non-stress test, I listened to your heartbeat galloping along, “like a white noise machine,” as your brother H said. It’s true that the rhythmic, peaceful pattern of your heart was like an invitation to fall in sync with you, even if we already are in sync together. As I waited there, I sat in awe of how God has kept your precious heart beating for at least the past 31 weeks…all inside my belly, all on its own, created by Him and orchestrated by Him without any need for my intervention. How anyone could not marvel at this arrangement will always be a great and heartbreaking mystery to me. The Creator of the Universe sustains you, sustains me. The invitation to participate in this process is so humbling, I never have the right words to describe how it feels.

Tonight I was in my office watering plants and putting a few things away when I saw the stack of ultrasound pictures from the three ultrasounds we’ve had with you. I’ve avoided the rest, but these three scans were fairly important, so we have pictures to look at of you from each of those memorable days. This last time was four weeks ago, and unbeknownst to me, the ultrasound tech decided to turn on the 3D ultrasound just briefly. I was really hesitant to have her do that, but then she found the outline of your face…your features…your little filled out cheeks and tiny lip pout, and I was overwhelmed with who you already are and how you remind me of your siblings but still look just like you. Of course, seeing you for a moment on an ultrasound pales in comparison to the day we’ll meet you face to face, but my heart needed that little encouragement that day and I didn’t even know it. To see just a little bit more of who you are was a gift, and it makes me all the more excited to get to know you when you arrive in just a few weeks.

Everyone here is eager to meet you. I still can’t visualize how everything might go on the day you decide to declare your birthday, but I can absolutely picture the moment we bring you through the front door to meet your brothers and sister. It all feels like a dream now, and it probably will on that day, too. But the closer we get, the more enthralled I am with the idea of it all (even though I’ve not needed anyone to convince me that you’re supposed to be here :). It’s just…the nearest we’ve been to this reality, and I’m feeling all of the feelings about that fact.

You’re 36 weeks along in there, little one, and I’m not even sure if “little one” feels accurate at this stage. Only you’re this precious tiny babe who will come out and make a giant impression in a matter of a moment, and that’s a lot to take in and just the most beautiful reality.

We are waiting for you here, and while there will always be more projects and things I’d like to do, we’ll be ready when you are–however that needs to be. Keep growing inside a little longer, ok? I’ll try to be patient and maybe we can be patient together.

Love you so, little Honeybee,

Mama