MollyMadonna.com

by

o christmas tree.

It was my suggestion. Our pre-lit, artificial tree has served us well for seven out of eight years in the little blue house (not bad for a last minute purchase some years ago to replace a real tree scenario gone awry), but I was watching social media feeds stack up with family outings to tree farms everywhere, and I wanted the experience of a fresh tree, too. I wanted the family memory of wandering about in search of the “perfect” fir. I wanted the photograph. Most of all, I wanted Christmas to arrive in our house so that we could begin the celebration, however makeshift, in this less organized, less Pinterest-y holiday season.

I wanted to get out of the house. And I did not want to go through the process of dragging our beloved fake tree out of the attic one more time. So I suggested the alternative:

“Can we get a real tree this year?”

What it turns out I meant was, “Can we get our motley crew all bundled up and head out in the first real snow of the season? And can I nurse and change the baby six times first, and can everyone need to go to the bathroom and change clothes and switch socks and find boots? And can we leave with an hour to spare before dark, so that when we get home everyone is famished and entirely over my big idea?”

Yes, that’s what I didn’t realize I actually meant, but I’d set my heart on something and we were going to see it through.

img_2618

It was snowing beautifully when we arrived at the farm late Sunday afternoon, and the kids (having worked through their own reservations about chopping down a Christmas tree) were excited. I dressed and wrapped the babe somewhat excessively, and off we went, saw and sled in tow. I don’t know what kind of grace they grow out at that tree farm but I could’ve stayed a lot longer. Something magical happened in the hour we spent traipsing around together: hunting for and cutting down our tree turned out to be simple and lovely. The whole experience was like a little pre-Christmas gift to my spirit.

img_2620

img_2645

img_2642

img_2649

We let the tree drop in the garage overnight, and Monday evening, Jason brought our fine new plant into the house and set it up in the living room for us to decorate. It smelled just right. I was still feeling the magic. I started to hang the lights to the tune of Christmas music in the background, the kids unwrapping ornaments hastily and with delight.

I ran out of lights two thirds of the way up the tree, so we let the kids hang ornaments where they could reach them while I nursed the baby on the couch. The oldest two went to bed shortly after, and as I sat with our littlest by the light of the partly lit, imperfect tree, the Christmas spirit I had summoned on that beautiful tree farm the day before all but disappeared.

How quickly my unmet expectations can drain my joy.

I started to regret my suggestion that we venture out in search of Christmas by way of a single experience and an authentic tree. I hung myself up in the haphazard placement of ornaments, the missing lights, the uncooperative branches. I pined for the predictability of a pre-lit version–one that felt closer to my Pinterest-perfect vision and afforded me control and manufactured peace. Irrational, surely, but it all made me want to cry.

I think that all too often, when the matters of our hearts feel upside down, we turn our eyes to things that don’t really matter. My heart has been on the topsy-turvy side lately, and I don’t let on nearly as much as I try to just keep on moving. A Christmas tree can’t fix that though–not even a “perfect” one.

I was drawn to the idea of a new, real Christmas tree for good reason this year, I just didn’t see it at first. The artificial tree in the attic has lost its appeal for a few reasons, not the least of which is that I’m quite tired of fake and manufactured on all accounts.

Our new tree represents so much of what our life is all about these days–making the most of what’s entirely imperfect and striving to find the beauty in it anyway.

img_2666

I’ve since added lights to the rest of the tree; the ornaments for this year all hang in their respective places, lending character and good memories of past Christmases and the people and places we love. As I set a few of my favorites on branches after everyone else had gone to bed, I hung pieces of my heart there, too, realizing afresh that messy and imperfect is really what Christmas is all about.

I’m still working on laying down earthly ideals, clearly. Scrolling through IG at all hours while nursing a baby can make me feel inadequate at best if I’m not careful. Life isn’t a perfect scripted, perfectly arranged square photograph, filtered and shimmering in magic Pinterest dust. It just isn’t.

More realistically, it’s hands full with tiny people who need us and our best attempts at celebrating what really matters while shepherding little hearts and minds amidst the mess. Our mess. Our beautiful mess. The one we asked for, prayed for, begged for to create this life that’s colorful and adventuresome and relatively amazing. Good thing I have a seven foot tall reminder of this truth–set right in the middle of the living room whenever I need it, this whole season through.

mm

by

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.

img_8552-edit

’tis the season!

mm

by

nostalgia, and remembering my “why.” (16)

I’ve spent a little time tonight filtering back through posts from my previous 100 days journeys, and I have to say, I’m so grateful. Here, sixteen days away from a presumed end to this countdown, it’s a little bit of a fight to find the words and to say what I mean to say–especially without saying all of the things I could say and don’t need to say quite so candidly.

I try to be real with you here, friends, I really do. But real Molly these days can be fairly unfiltered and maybe too honest for everyone’s taste, so I’ll attempt to keep it forthright without oversharing.

This end of pregnancy gig is hard. Way hard. Harder than I remember, which is why we’re certain to forget at some point, so that we might ever be willing to give it another go. I’m actually crazy-thankful that the hard parts fade over time…I love having babies too much to throw in the towel because the last few weeks come hard and heavy each time. It’s changed with our babies, for sure: birthing a first born is different from when the second one comes along and so on, but I still want to remember the sweetness over the obstacles, the delight over the pain.

It’s always good to remember your “why” as an exercise of self-evaluation and personal motivation, isn’t it? Looking back on the months leading up to this pregnancy, what was my why? And what was it when I decided to write for 100 days again, not recalling then just how hard it would be to commit to this mini-documentary here on the page, day after day?

Why did I pray fervently for this baby? Why is he or she such an answer to prayer? Because I felt a deep burden on my heart that our family wasn’t complete, and I wanted to be used as a vessel to carry more life into this world. I longed for another sibling for Henry and Eloise, and I longed for the chance to mother a tiny baby once again. I prayed and prayed and prayed because God had put this baby on my heart…probably long before I even realized it. And when it wasn’t happening, month after month, I prayed and prayed that I could let it go and release our family’s future to God, and then I waited for what could only feel like a miracle.

This miracle. This beautiful life, swirling and twirling and almost ready to come into the world–a reality and an answer to thousands of petitions for a someday baby.

How quickly we take for granted the things we once knew only as distant hopes and intangible dreams.

Eighty four or some odd days ago, I approached my third trimester and this exercise of documenting the last third of another pregnancy, starry-eyed at the thought of leaving a legacy for this baby to someday read and (hopefully) enjoy. I didn’t calculate all of the very sleepy nights and the third trimester aches and pains and my growing desire for time and space to prepare for baby in tangible ways. No. I counted only my desire to build a pile of memories and the intention in my mama heart to keep things even for all of our kiddos. One hundred days for Henry and the same for all who follow.

I may not have scrapbooks or organized albums of our children for their first years of life, but now, I do have this. Countless details I would never have remembered otherwise–the sweet and the good, the hard and the bad. Being pregnant is a gift and a whirlwind and a marvel all at once, and I’m so grateful that I can look back and recall how each baby has been amazing and amazingly different.

I’m not sure where we’ll cut off this countdown with baby #3, but what I do know is that when the time comes, I will be nothing short of elated to celebrate the newest birthday in our family. And it won’t be because I can put an end to the countdown and move on, rather it will be because of the countdown and the journey that comes with it. Where I’ve been as a mama in these past months and where our family is coming from are so closely related to how this baby finds a space in our lives and home–how he or she has been making a space in our hearts for a long, long time.

We’re ready for you baby, soon and very soon. You stay tucked away for a bit yet if you’re still comfy in there, and then please come when you’re ready to join our crazy, amazing world.

love, love, love,

mm

 

by

one big nest. (18)

Maybe my memory is poor, but I’m pretty sure I’ve not nested so intently or for so long before now. I guess when I was pregnant with Henry, I could get more done in less time, and that could be the difference. I feel like there have been so many projects lately, and I am loving the changes, so I just keep going. I hung a few more frames in the nursery this afternoon and put away some of the lovely things I brought home for baby after last night’s celebration. It just feels so good for everything to have it’s rightful place, and it’s much easier to think about baby coming the more I get done.

img_1039

I actually love how expecting a baby makes things a priority that would otherwise go by the wayside or unnoticed. Seems like we’re gifted a very heightened ability to see everything that needs attention when we’re closing in on baby time. I guess this is both a blessing and a curse, but however it is, I’m grateful for the motivation. If I could, I’d leave no corner unturned right now. I don’t have the capacity to do it all, but that would feel so good!

The longer baby stays tucked away, the closer I get to where I hoped to be in preparation. Right now I’m tackling a thing or two a day outside of my normal routine, and that has to be enough. Since adding school and other activities back into the mix, I am reminded regularly of my limitations. Not a bad thing, I’m sure of it. As it is, my mind is busy well into the late hours of the night now, so I think through a million things I could add to my wish list of to dos, and I have to exercise restraint. What a helpful practice for life in general (and especially for life as a parent to little ones)!

Eloise asked me this morning when the baby was actually going to come, and I love that it’s close enough for me to say “very soon…in the next week or two.” We will all be so happy to meet this little one. I’m most excited to introduce Henry and Eloise to their newest baby brother or sister. I just think it will be one of the best moments of our lives together!

plodding along (and still *attempting* not to adopt a waddle 😉 ),

mm

 

by

surrounded. (19)

Look at these days go by, each one of them bringing something new to the mix every 24 hours! This has been the hardest countdown to date, but so worth it as I look back already and see how God is alive and moving at each twist and turn.

The past few days have been hard, but then today came, and with it, a fresh infusion of grace. Time in worship this morning was cleansing and healing, like a balm over the rough places and the painful places and the fearful ones, too.

I have to acknowledge that sometimes I forget to invite God into my mess, even though He is always ready and waiting to be there. More accurately, He is already there, but leaving me space and room to find Him. There’s even grace in this, because God’s help is never forced or contrived. I have to practice reaching out (or maybe caving in)…letting walls of control or pride or bitterness or just plain humanness fall away so that I can see clearly what is real and really true about who He is and who I am to Him.

***

I wanted to make sure that we could go apple picking as a family this fall before baby comes, so this afternoon, we headed out to the orchard after lunch. It was the most perfect weather day, and the time outside together–fulfilling fall tradition and just being us, was so good for my heart. We came home with plenty of apples (and apple cider, and a few *leftover* cider donuts), but better than that, we just let all else fall away for a while and enjoyed being four for a little bit longer. I needed that as much as anything this weekend.

Tonight, a sweet friend hosted a gathering of some of my favorite mamas to celebrate the baby bean over dinner and crafting and fellowship. Women who have poured into my life and into our family circled around the table together, and I felt beyond fortunate to be so surrounded by some of the beautiful relationships God has planted in my midst. I was reminded again just how faithful He has been to provide.

It was more than humbling to be loved so well tonight, and it is just the very best thing to have people around us who I know will love this baby when he or she arrives, too. There’s no way we could raise our little ones without the support of amazing friends and fellow parents on this adventure, and having people in our lives who uplift us and celebrate joy with us is one of the most beautiful gifts to me.

I treasure these women!!

I treasure these women!!

Surrounded is the exact right word for how I feel today: surrounded by God, by our family unit, by our amazing friends…and the timing couldn’t be better for any of that. Tomorrow begins a new week and another step closer to meeting our babe. I’m so thankful that I can be a part of the story that God is weaving for this new baby and his or her life. More thankful than I could ever really say.

I’ll sleep well tonight, I think, falling into bed with a sense of peace that didn’t seem quite as tangible before. This is the beauty and the result of generosity and kinship, truth and worship, intention and perfect timing. What incredibly gracious gifts!

may we all feel so surrounded, exactly when our hearts need it most,

mm