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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 68º 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