MollyMadonna.com

by

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

by

Let’s Be Noticers. (28)

This morning we came downstairs and E gasped as I opened the blinds to our slider door: “Mom!! There’s a bald eagle!!!” and sure enough, one had just flown past our deck. We watched as it circled back around before flying over the water and away between houses. The timing was pretty perfect and the eagle was amazing; we couldn’t have contrived that moment on our own. But the fact that E saw it and celebrated it so excitedly was a gift in and of itself. It felt like a very good start to the day as we all hurried on to breakfast and off to take her to camp.

H has been away all week at overnight camp, so when I dropped E off today, I hadn’t seen H since Monday morning. I’ve been intentional all week about not being a shadow parent, but I’ll admit that I hoped I might catch at glimpse of him at least once during our twice daily drop-offs and pick-ups. As I walked back to the car after saying goodbye to E, I noticed H’s group sitting up on a balcony having breakfast, and I made the conscious decision not to call out to him or try to get his attention. “We pick him up in the morning,” I thought to myself. Then I sat in the car for a few minutes sending a quick email off to him instead. Just before I started to drive away, he came back out to the balcony alone, eating what was probably the last few bites of this morning’s cereal. Since he was by himself, I opted to shout a quick, “HD!” out the car window, and he turned around to offer me a big smile, a wave and an air kiss. My heart! I quickly waved and blew a kiss back, the window back up in a matter of seconds so as not to embarrass him, when he gestured to me to open it up again. “Where’s C?!” he asked. It was so sweet and sensitive of him to even think of it. And of all days this week, our littlest buddy was at home with dad, so I told H quickly, shouted a “Love you!” and headed off. It was a 20 second exchange, tops. But it was just what I didn’t know my heart needed, and if I hadn’t felt the nudge to stay just a few minutes longer, we both would have missed it.

From there I headed to my 36(!) week appointment and my first non-stress test. It was such grace to have everything check out as it should. Listening to baby’s heartbeat for 20 minutes on the monitor was an unexpected way to connect with our babe that I enjoyed so much–another gift among gifts stacking up, all before mid-morning. I came home to find a little bench sitting by the window just inside the front door. C came running, and I asked him what the bench was doing at the window. “I was watching and waiting for you to come home!” he said sweetly. A little while later upon his request, C and I spontaneously snuggled up on the couch to watch videos of owls “to learn facts about them.” All the while he cuddled his newest favorite lovey–a beanie baby owl of mine from years ago that I found in the basement while digging out baby items yesterday. For the rest of the day, he shared owl facts with everyone. What a joy! Just the kinds of things mama dreams are made of, right? And especially when feeling oh-so-pregnant and relishing in every good and beautiful thing or distraction or moment. So many graces.

This afternoon after the last day of day camp pickup for E, we stopped at our favorite blueberry farm for a quick picking session to snag some berries for the weekend. While E and I picked together, I mentioned that I could stay there all day, out in the quiet calm of the field. A few minutes later, E said to me, “It’s so peaceful out here. So quiet. And listen! Now the birds are singing for us and there are so many blueberries!…” She is a girl after my own heart. It was a perfect moment. We’d found a shady spot to pick out of the sun and were filling our bucket with July’s goodness, one handful at a time, together. I have the sweetest memories of picking berries with a very round belly twice before, and doing it again just feels like exactly where I’m supposed to be at this time of year. It’s a little slice of heaven every time.

It is one of my core values to live in wonder with our children, and when God makes a way for that desire of my heart to be filled, it’s just one of the best feelings ever as a mom. Part of my intention to live in wonder is to make a big deal out of little things that really matter because they point to God’s creation–a butterfly landing in a bush in the front garden, a family of baby killdeer running around in the sand, the smoothest rock on a rocky beach, the way the cucumbers grow from their flowers and the zinnias have gotten so tall. Together, we’ve cultivated a habit of noticing and sharing in the things worth noting together, and it’s probably one of the aspects of my motherhood I feel most confident about. Every time one of the kids points out a unique bug (or in C’s case the other day, a dragonfly exoskeleton), a small animal, a perfect flower or someone’s pretty dress, we celebrate the beautiful in the ordinary, and it makes the days resonate with gratitude in ways I’m afraid we’d miss otherwise.

I always want to be someone who celebrates beauty when I see it. I want our kids to know that it matters to notice the good, everywhere we can find it. I can’t wait to open up a whole new book of wonder as we bring home a tiny babe once more and everyone can watch first hand as he or she joins our family, grows and discovers. Our kiddos are going to be the best teachers to this little one, and it’s because they’ve embraced the art of noticing. It’s a joy to be out in the world together, where we all see things with different eyes and find wonder in different directions at the same time. Sometimes the noticing is what gets us through, and it feels like God offers little nudges of His goodness all of the time so that it’s there if we’re willing to seek and grasp it. I’m so thankful there were so many lovely things to pay attention to today. Outside of them, the day was quite ordinary–or it could have been.

So grateful for these days with our babies. My heart overflows when I think about the goodness of it all.

MM

by

Writing the Story. (30)

All this time, I’ve been in what feels like the middle of a story. Living in the midst of my thought life, my spiritual life and my real, everyday life through these months of my seventh pregnancy, I have tried to look towards the future and can only see tiny snippets of what is to come. It’s been hard to let my heart go to the most hopeful place every time, though I’ve worked to lean into that as much as I can. It’s something, to be hopeful in a way that pushes down fear and presses out doubt. And I’ve tasted it, but not always, and not every day. Some are hard fought, while others come with a peace that only God can offer me.

As the days count down to August and baby, I am coming more and more to terms with this reality being what’s actually true. I didn’t think about the details of the day getting closer because I couldn’t. I could trust God past what I could see, and He’s done that work in me, but I couldn’t get all the way to August 20th or anything that comes after, not really. I’m starting to, and still it’s not without reservation. I’ve had all the conversations with myself time and time again–reminded myself of what I’ve heard God say, replayed what I know about who He is, come across scripture on the exact right days, always being nudged that what His Word says is true. I believe it. And the human part of me has still had to stretch to trust and believe that a gift this good could come our way and actually arrive. God gives good gifts, and I know this deeply. So what is changing in me?

Today, as I was driving, I realized that my letting go of so many of the details might not be my inability to trust in them or believe them. It’s that I actually do believe that God is who He says He is and that He’ll do what He says He will do. Does it feel vulnerable to believe this sometimes? 100% yes. And is it still worth it? More than I’ll probably ever understand. It feels risky to take God at his word, which almost feels foolish to even say. But if I walk into August believing and trusting what I’ve heard from God, then I’m also open to disappointment, or maybe even heartache, right? And He’s still sovereign in every detail.

A little whisper crossed my path today and planted the thought that I’m not actually walking in the middle of this story. I’m at the very beginning. We are about to meet this person who has grown inside of me since November. We’re about to break through the narrow space between womb and world, and to know–to actually know–this person who God created to be here for such a time as this. Beyond that, I’m about to get to mother this tiny human who matters even more to God than they do to me. That feels unfathomable, after all of these weeks and months praying and hoping and holding my breath sometimes, but it’s true. I’m at the beginning of this story. We’re just getting started on a journey God planned for us long ago. How could I not be amazed by this reality?

To trust that the day will come is a bigger step for me, even still, than I ever wanted it to be. There have been many days where I’ve just had to relinquish all of the details to God and set them down entirely, because I can’t go there, and if I do, it just feels messy and hard. But that’s the beauty in this. Things will keep going along as God intends whether I’ve overthought every facet of this life change or not. To not be in any kind of control is actually so freeing I can hardly grasp it. I don’t control this, and I never did. Doesn’t that make the story so much better? I get to be in it and to watch it unfold, but it’s out of my hands on so many levels. The details of that day to come are known to God, and nothing will surprise Him.

People ask me often now how much longer until baby, and I always give a ballpark answer, because I know the date on the calendar is just a date. But it’s also because I’m trusting my intuition that I have a sense about this baby and their arrival. I know what I’d like the answer to be, and I know that it’s not my decision to make. God knows this baby’s birthday. He knows the time of day that my labor begins. He knows who is there and who delivers this life and whether or not we welcome a boy or a girl. He knows how long it all takes, how I heal, what the moment looks like when we bring baby home from the hospital to meet siblings. He is the author of this story, and while He’s been writing my life for a long time now, this is a new volume He’s kept waiting for the exact right moment. It’s like waiting until Christmas morning, only better, because His gifts are the purest kind.

I’m so humbled to have a part in this story at all. I don’t think I know how to feel about that right now besides fortunate, and that’s a healthy place to rest. There are many details stirring in my mind, and while it’s ok to think about them, I can also let them go. He has this. He has me. And He has this tiny baby right close…closer than my belly, closer than a due date, closer than I’ll ever actually know.

Peace and rest for all hearts tonight, dear friends. He’s writing your story, too.

MM

by

Hello, Summer. (33)

If you live in the midwest, I’m sure you’ll agree that the weather for June and July has been rather temperate and a bit gloomier than our usual summer fare up until now. Truthfully, I haven’t minded the moderate temps, and the rainier days have provided much needed moisture for the yard and garden while also alleviating some of the pressure to soak in every outdoor moment possible. I love being outside, but I don’t love the feeling of obligation when it comes to outdoor experiences. I feel that living here makes us all carry a deeper sense of, “It’s summer! We have to soak it up for all it’s worth!” than we might feel in a climate that offers more sunshine and warm days year round. So for me anyway, the rainy days feel like an invitation to slow down, to let the kids stay in pjs longer, to offer popcorn and a movie some afternoons instead of the usual limitations on screen time. I know my kiddos don’t mind it when the day calls for stacks of books and no one laying out a schedule, and we have wet weather to thank for a little bit extra of that this summer.

This weekend it’s evident that July has decided to turn up, and it’s beautiful. It’s also hot. I love summer weather. Most of the time, give me all of the hot summer days we can afford. Even now, please bring on the sunshine. Just know that I’ll be off to find a bench in the shade at some stage. It’s funny–I’ve left the house both yesterday and today feeling such ambition to conquer tasks and experiences, and yet, my body says something else a few hours in. Mind and body are one, but also independent of each other, it seems. It’s really in the sweetness of pregnancy that I share that; I wouldn’t trade it for the world. I just have to laugh a little once I’m over my initial frustration with limitations. Once again, God says, “Be still,” and I somehow keep asking, “Can’t I go just a little bit more?”

In a sense, summer is humbling me right along with motherhood. I am so thankful to have three kiddos who have genuinely been utterly gracious with their mama all these months, and especially now. Today we were a few towns over for lunch and wandering, and when I sat down on a bench and needed to stay there for awhile, everyone got out their new books to read and waited with me. I know they’ll all be so happy to have me return to a more active version of myself, but their patience is much appreciated right now and I truly need it. It makes me hopeful that transitions with the baby can be grace-filled, too, even if they’re sometimes hard.

C is showing his feelings about so much change in new ways, and they’re mostly just really endearing. He is so careful to tell me sweet things every day, to hug the baby and say good morning and goodnight, to remind me that we call this little one, “Honeybee,” and to sit in the closest spot possible to me as often as he can. I overheard him telling someone upstairs the other day that he could be brave because now he was going to be a big brother. Sweet boy! I just love him so, and I feel for him as he sorts out his emotions without even realizing all that’s happening inside his heart and mind. He and I are going to have some extra time to spend together this week, and I’m planning to soak it up for all it’s worth. This will be a treasured handful of days for us together–another fleeting season that’s worth savoring in every possible way.

It finally feels like summer and that’s such a good thing, because it’s also a marker of time right where we are and the days we’re headed into, too. August can’t come without summer arriving, so it’s another box checked on the way to baby. Whether or not the summer of 2021 will be marked with all kinds of red letter days for our crew, we’re certainly all looking forward to a few in particular, and baby’s arrival is at the peak of that anticipation. I’m thankful for the experiences this “break” season has afforded our family; there’s a lot of transition that could be much harder with calendars piled to the brim and expectations in full measure. Instead, we’re really taking so much one day or week at a time, which feels like exactly what we all need and as much as we can all handle. Again there’s heaps of grace in that reality, even when we don’t always see it. When we look back, I hope we can say that the summer our honeybee was born was marked by slowing down, making peace with stillness and soaking up all of the natural good that God set right in front of us, no matter the weather.

MM

by

What’s Right in Front of Me. (35)

There are so many days right now where I feel an extra nudge to be present, and today was no exception. I felt those whispers all day long. I’m so grateful for this. It’s a kindness from God to be reminded to savor the simple, routine things, and this time in our lives is one I really want to be able to see clearly when I look back. That’s not to say that every day is easy or without its share of hiccups, but I just think all of the time about how this life we’re living now could be the sweetest version of life we experience, and if that’s the case (or really, even if it isn’t), I want to appreciate it for all it’s worth. I don’t want to miss it.

Watching E and C at swim lessons today, the number of times I laughed at their antics or comments was plentiful. And the joy I found in watching them attempt and overcome new hurdles was such a good feeling–their pride in themselves just made my heart swell a bit. It’s so special to see them coming into their own in things, and especially to watch them face insecurities or challenges head on. Watching them interact with their swim teacher and each other gives me such a lightheartedness…they are genuinely having fun and learning together at the same time. It’s a sweet part of this summer that’s been meaningful to me.

Then, sitting with other moms while H enjoyed spending time with his friends at a party today was really lovely. I was thinking back to last summer, after a shortened year of school, and just how hard it was not to know other families from his class or to connect him to friends. Things were so different in the world a year ago, and I don’t think any of us knew exactly how to feel or be as humans desiring more interaction with others. What a gift today, to see other moms, but also to watch all of our boys enjoy each other’s company and just have fun together–it’s a sweet group of kids that I’m so thankful he has the privilege to journey alongside.

E also had a party today, and it was a similar grace in the day to see friends of ours and to send her off to enjoy time with other girls. We’re not very surrounded by families with girls her age, so to watch her connect with a friend she’s known for a few years now and to have the chance to celebrate and create together–it’s the stuff of a mama’s dreams. And to have her sweet friend run up to hug me and to feel a sense of being reunited…it’s all just such grace.

As I sent a message to a dear friend tonight, I included some photos from our time together with our kids earlier this week. Those pictures, where C is laying on a picnic blanket with his closest friend as they laugh unstoppably together, and where four of our kiddos are playing picnic with play food for a good bit of our visit–I can’t honestly even describe the layers of goodness in those images. A few hours in their backyard (or anywhere together!) has been a hopeful vision for us as mamas over this past year. These friends are like family to all of us, and we’ve longed for days when we could let the kids run around and play together again. Last May, when things with Covid felt scary and confusing and new, the world got scarier and harder for our friends as their eldest (C’s dearest) was diagnosed with Leukemia. This past year has been so filled with new challenges for all of them, and especially in the midst of all else going on. The number of times we’ve talked with our kiddos about “someday when we can all play together again” is too many to count, and suddenly, we’ve lived that moment we’ve hoped and prayed for for so long. While we know things will shift again come fall and seasons where the weather turns colder and germs abound, this week, in the fresh air and sunshine, God made a way. And He reminds us to savor it–every last bit of it, and to recognize these answered prayers right before our eyes. It’s all so rich with undeserved grace.

This evening before coming home from birthday party pick up, we stopped at Menards for a few things. Through most of the store and out into the parking lot and all the way to the car, E and C each held my hands, one on either side. As we wandered through the parking lot, I thought to myself, “Soon this is all going to change,” and the bittersweetness of that moment will stick with me for a long time. Right now I have hands for both of them, but someone will have to graduate soon as I use at least one hand to push a stroller or carry a carseat. Of course, I’ll still hold hands as much as they’ll let me, but my two hands will be a little less free to embrace these babies of ours, just as we’ve all been for the past (nearly) five years. I am so ready for this growth for us in ways, and I am probably mourning other things at the same time. If nothing else, the past few years have taught me a lot about holding joy and grief together, and while I won’t suggest that the new stage we’re entering brings grief with it, there is still loss while there’s great gain. The dichotomy of holding both at the same time stretches us in our humanity, I think. And I feel like it gives me a glimpse into God’s heart, as I imagine He is always navigating through all of our lives with ample doses of grief and joy.

I woke up this morning thinking about gratitude and wanting to be grateful, and here at the end of the day, I can see that God honored that intention in ways I couldn’t have planned. These days of waiting are hard, but what’s growing out of them is far better than wishing time away and trying to rush through to the next thing. The next thing will come, or at least we pray it will come as we hope. And meanwhile, the things right here in front of me are goodness and kindness and mercy that humble me and pause restlessness in my heart. The good life is the life we’re afforded today. Tomorrow isn’t a promise, and I never want to take it for granted. I pray that God will give me the nudging and direction I need to continue to appreciate and value what’s right before me every day.

MM