MollyMadonna.com

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big sister. (70)

Dear Eloise,

For several months now, you’ve thanked God for making you a big sister every single time you’ve prayed. You’ve thanked Him for “Mommy’s baby in her tummy” each time, too.

Since before you were born, I’ve spoken the saying, “Though she be but little, she is fierce,” over you. Those words repeated in my mind while I was pregnant, and they’re part of why I was so sure you were a girl long before I ever laid eyes on you. We named you Eloise, not only because we love the name, but because it means “famous warrior.” I prayed and prayed as you were growing inside that you would be born a fierce, strong, warrior of a girl, and God answered.

You are not yet three, but you pray with focus and intention, and I know that God hears those prayers. Every time you cover your baby brother or sister by asking for God’s blessing, I breathe a little more deeply, thinking about how your childlike faith and beautiful petitions matter to the One who created you, and the One who is weaving our baby’s life together now. God formed you and He knew you, and I believe He was even so gracious as to give me insight into who you were going to be in our lives. Here and now, you are a warrior in your own right, and it fills me with gratitude that God has heard our prayers for you, both then and today.

Your big sisterhood is going to come to fruition before long, and I can’t wait to see how you care for our littlest babe. You are a doting mommy to your own babies, playing house and nurturing the little ones around you at all times. I know that this upcoming transition might be hard for you here and there, but I am trusting that you’ll weather the change with the same resilience you demonstrate in everything else in life. You are still so little, but you are most definitely fierce.

When I say fierce, sweet one, I mean it in the best way possible. You are not mean. You are not intense in a bad way. You do know what you want and you articulate it with gusto. You hold your own with your brother and older kids, and you pick yourself up without skipping a beat when life attempts to knock you down. You are brave. Smart. Musical. Happy. You are go-with-the-flow 95% of the time, always finding the good in any opportunity to get out and be in the world.

You are still mommy’s girl through and through, and I can’t say I mind it. You love your boys with fervor, too, but there is still a connection between us that hasn’t changed since your up-all-night, attached to mama days. Deep down, I love that. I think you’ll make an even better big sister for the ways you acknowledge connection and proximity. You make a point to stop and love the people around you, and you also speak up for yourself when you need your space. Baby will appreciate that about you!

I’m sorry that this season has meant far fewer snuggle times and my inability to pick you up and hold you for lengths of time. I miss that chance, and hope you’ll preserve your snuggly self for the days when my lap has returned to a lap and my belly isn’t in the way of me carrying you on my hip for more than a minute. Even without the baby here, you already seem so big and grown up to me. Please save some of this stage for after baby is born so we can still cuddle up just you and me.

You are a kind and aware soul, sweet girl. You are thoughtful and loving, creative and worshipful. You add a dynamic to our family that fits exactly as it should. I’m so fortunate and proud to be your mama, and I can’t wait to watch you grow into your new role as baby’s big sister. He or she is going to be so lucky to fall under your watchful eye and doting care.

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I delight in you, Ella Bella Bee. We all do!

love always and always,

your mama

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when the world calls us from every direction, how do we respond? (75)

Yesterday, there were countless moments that required us each to act, and today it was the same. This is true of every twenty four hours as we encounter each other, as we raise small children, and as we face the world.

There are factors in each interaction that tip the scales for us toward one bent or another. Will we be calm? gracious? kind? Or will a moment of frustration mean we’re sharp or impatient? Are we tired, achy, not feeling well, having a bad day? Are we just weary of things everywhere requiring some kind of emotional response?

I think we’re all growing weary of circumstances that draw out bold emotions lately. The world is still so beautiful, but it calls us to face new and hard realities every day as of late. There is heartache everywhere. Evil seems like it’s running rampant, and it can feel like our hands are mostly tied.

The news just keeps coming, and whether we don’t think it gets to our core after a while, we’d have to be unfeeling not to bear the impact of the current state of world affairs.

So when a little person needs attention, or a spouse is juggling his or her own baggage from the day, or a stranger is feeling the same kind of raw that the rest of us are, what are our options as we interact?

Even as I type this, our littlest is upstairs begging for someone to come and “be by her,” over an hour after bedtime began, and I’m feeling tested in the patience department. How do I best act in this moment? I want to be selfish, but I don’t know that that’s the best thing for anyone…

Honestly, my first M.O. these days is to feel frustrated. It’s bedtime, and I want to be writing, not tending to little ones anymore for the day. In this space, where so much else demands emotional balance lately, I’d prefer to ignore it, or to be mean about it, or to pass it off to someone else. But my reacting in any of those ways is unhelpful. It exacerbates the issue. Nobody wins.

***

I figured that Eloise’s crying and desperation upstairs just now were kind of a test as I’m writing about this very thing, so I conceded my stubbornness and irritation and went upstairs. She didn’t really need anything except a little affirmation, which required all of three minutes and my ability to respond lovingly as her mom. Even on the worst days, I ought to be able to navigate three minutes. She is still awake upstairs now, but peaceful and calm as I type. This outcome is better for everyone. Plus, I’m not sitting here with major mommy guilt about being selfish and inattentive, which is a bonus. 😉

***

The thought I’ve had all day (and one that was reiterated for me just now) is that we have the choice of being reactionary or responsive in every moment of the day. Every single one. Whether it’s a simple, small thing with the kiddos or another heartbreaking news story that has us reeling with anger, sadness or deep seated hurt.

Responsive means we’re taking the time (and probably a deep breath) to think about what we do, what we say, or how we act…before we offer ourselves to someone else in any way.

Reactionary means we’re likely acting out of emotion, in a hurry, or without consideration for how our words and actions might add or detract from the situation.

In my experience, responsive usually ends in a positive result of some kind, while reactionary often instigates even more heightened emotion, causes hurt feelings, and feeds misunderstanding.

Though it usually draws more energy to approach something or someone in a responsive way, the feedback is far more likely to move things forward instead of back. Reactionary moments almost always set me back instead of encouraging myself or anyone else down a positive road.

I have so grappled with wanting to respond to the events of these past few weeks–the heart wound that keeps opening up again and again all over the world and in our own backyards. In the face of evil and hatred, what is the right thing to do or say that will move any of us forward? What will bring glory to grace and love, instead of giving evil an even greater foothold?

I cannot pretend to have answers to many of the world’s problems these days. I cannot stop evildoers from doing evil, just as much as I can’t keep someone from choosing hate over love because of skin color or background or race. I so deeply wish I could.

I can’t offer every refugee a home. I can’t feed every hungry mouth. I can’t bring world leaders to the table for real, effective conversations that move everyone forward toward peace.

But I can change the tide in my own spaces: in our home, across town, down the street.

I can choose to be responsive versus reactionary. I can let thoughtful conversation and prayer flow from my mouth, instead of vitriol or frustration or anger.

When our children need me to support them, I can be supportive instead of crabby. I can choose them over myself, even in tiny moments, throughout the day.

I can build up instead of tearing down.

If we think that we don’t tear each other down one comment, one eye roll, one Facebook post at a time, we are sorely mistaken. If we think that a loving response makes no difference at all, we haven’t considered how much someone else’s loving response has mattered to us. 

If we become so weary and worn down by our own circumstances and the circumstances of the world around us, and we react out of exhaustion or selfishness instead of responding out of empathy and love, we risk heaping coals on an already flaming fire than desperately needs putting out.

I cannot go into physical battle against the evils that terrorize human life and infuse fear into the world. But I can absolutely go into spiritual, mental, emotional battle with my choice to be responsive or reactionary, countless times, every twenty four hours.

The world needs more listeners than talkers right now. We don’t even need to open our mouths to love each other well; sometimes, it’s almost better if we’re quiet. And the beauty in this is that quiet is restorative. Just as we rest and our sleep gives us fuel for the next day’s contents, quieted hearts allow us to make space for more careful responding and less careless reacting. 

How can we make space, even once a day, to quiet ourselves? To listen, to pray, to meditate on what is lovely? It might seem like we can’t afford to make space in the busyness and stress of life these days, but the truth is, we can’t afford not to.

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Tomorrow is Monday, and we begin another week. We can’t possibly know what circumstances it will hold. But we can know how we hope to respond to them. Like a ripple in a pond, one gracious act begets another. I think there’s hope and peace and wisdom in that possibility.

grace to you this week as you seek to quiet your heart and to respond out of love to the people and places where you can have the greatest impact first.

mm

 

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holding space. (77)

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These toes belong to Eloise. She will be three in just a few short weeks, but as she napped in mommy and daddy’s bed this afternoon, they looked like baby toes to me, and I took a photo to remember their sweetness.

We take photographs all of the time. As a family, we’re pretty camera happy, and we capture moments whether or not they’re artistic or aesthetically beautiful to anyone else. Jason and I both love to get a great shot, but we’ve also come to terms with the reality of capturing images of our children–there is often someone moving, making a face, looking away, halfway gone before the shutter does its job. We take them anyway. Here and there, we’re blessed to snag an image that holds space for us in an impactful way. Like today’s piggy toes, the countless images we’ve stored are sacred to us because they’re attached to memories and moments we don’t want to erase.

Life feels like it gets busier and busier all of the time. I don’t mean just our lives as a family with young children who are growing at a rapid pace. I mean life in general, for all of us. There is more input, more access, more distraction, more tragedy. And it all has impact.

There are too many things that take us away from where our focus might otherwise be: devices might get as much or more attention than the people we care about the most. The news is always raging with something hard and worthy of substantial processing time and prayer. Life moves faster because we have instant access to so many things…information, communication, entertainment, worry, celebration, fear.

It’s beautiful that we can get to things we need and/or want to know with such ease, but I think it makes it hard sometimes to slow down or intentionally stop the influx of input in the interest of holding space instead.

As time goes by (and especially as our children change and grow so quickly), I want to be intentional about holding space in our family. I want our kids to know that there is always time to be with them and to hear what they have to say. I want there to be room for whole hours and days where we take things in together and make conscientious decisions to choose each other over the world we have access to in an instant.

It feels like all of this should be a no brainer, yet I’m afraid it isn’t. I know that I need to choose space and time with my people above other things, but it’s a habit requiring intention, like anything else.

I capture our kids in moments each day for the same reason I’m writing here daily through the month of September–my heart says to remember, to be intentional about being able to look back, and to appreciate the little things that amount to big things when our babies are suddenly 5 and almost 3 and just a few months away from being born.

Life is short. On days like today, in the aftermath of another international tragedy last night, life feels more than short. It feels fragile and unknown, too. Sometimes, you just need a photograph of your baby’s toes to remind you that there is still sweetness and simplicity in this world. Sometimes, you just need to feel like your babies are safe…like you might be able to protect them or preserve them for always. Occasionally a photograph might trigger that feeling. More often, a good snuggle session will do the trick for a time.

However it happens, I think our kiddos need us to hold sacred space for them just as much as we crave hanging on to the beautiful parts of young childhood on their behalf.

We take photographs because we love the memories. When we look back on them, we’re not just remembering how someone looked a year ago or how much they’ve grown. We’re remembering the space around that time, too. We capture it, because the moment has a significance all its own.

Sure, Eloise’s toes look like baby toes, and of course when I saw them peeking out this afternoon I thought about how she has changed so much and is growing so fast. More than that though, the photograph above holds a space for me that a fleeting moment just can’t. When I come across it, I’ll remember how Eloise desperately wanted to sleep in our bed today so we were nearby, how she soaked up her nap time story all snuggled close to me, and how she settled into sleep, trusting that she was safe and cared for in that bed today, just as she needed to be. I’ll remember for a long, long time.

It seems like preserving space is just as much a part of our job as parents as filling it up with places to go and things to do. When I feel guilty about slowing down or not programming our time to a hilt, I need to remember that the space to just be, to recall, to let our hair down, and to exist together as a family unit is equally as important, too.

holding space as best I can, wherever I can, for as long as I can,

mm

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addressing the bump. (78)

She declared it so joyfully in the women’s bathroom at Target today, “Mama you are BIG! Big, big, big, big, big, big, big, big…” The “bigs” just kept coming, echoing off of concrete walls and the metal stall, certainly loudly enough and emphatically enough to get her point across to anyone within a half mile radius. All the while, I was trying to gently shush her enthusiasm as I bared my belly at her eye level and tried to pretend it didn’t get to me at all.

She was excited, because she loves that our baby is growing.

“I’m telling the baby now, Mama. Big, big, big, big…”

I can’t deny her honesty, nor the fact that I do feel just exactly as big as she interpreted this afternoon, but Eloise’s public declaration was timely, on a day when I was already feeling the significance of this 29-weeks-along belly in a sizable way.

It’s true that when we’re growing babies, the self-talk in the process comes steadily and often. 

Our bodies are changing, rapidly and amazingly, in a full force effort to support and sustain the life (or lives) within. We are carrying around tiny, growing miracles that go from single cells to fully functioning human beings in a matter of months. We are witnesses and bearers of creation in every sense of the word.

Growing baby Eloise, Summer, 2013.

Growing baby Eloise, Summer, 2013.

And we are also navigating clothes that don’t fit, curves that didn’t previously exist, toddlers who still need picking up, an inability to bend over or see our toes, and 1,001 other things that we weren’t battling pre-pregnancy. Toss in a cocktail of hormones, fewer nights of uninterrupted sleep, and the prospect of being responsible for new life every hour of every day in a matter of months or weeks, and it’s easy to succumb to the trap of negative self-talk and self-perception with little effort.

All of the above factors aside, I can’t hardly begin to address the crazy things people say to women with pregnant bellies, as if beautiful bumps bearing human life are an open door for offhanded comments and challenging opinions. These can be icing on the cake.

Pregnancy is incredible. It’s a wild ride that very regularly results in the most wonderful outcome imaginable: a tiny human to love and care for for years to come. But it’s also a raw journey that we go through both together and alone–it can be unifying for women and still, isolating. It can be encouraging and also terribly hard.

I was reminded again today (not because Eloise was so outwardly joyful about my bump, but because I woke up with a heightened awareness of my body this morning) that the process of pregnancy is not for the faint of spirit or heart. When you are looking in the mirror and everything about your physical self is changing day by day, it can be hard not to judge or criticize or compare yourself…not even to others, but to the self you remember from only days or weeks ago. And if you throw in comparing your pregnant self to other growing mamas, pregnancy can flip from joyful and celebratory to discouraging and overwhelming in a snap.

It isn’t easy to gain weight and curves and bumpy veins and imperfections, even if it’s for a cause you are utterly thrilled about in the end.

Ultimately, what’s been on my mind today and what I want to share here tonight is this: while we know we should be kinder and gentler to our growing, changing bodies during pregnancy (and sometimes, long after), it can be SO hard to quiet the voices in our heads that tell us we’re “less than” because there’s actually more of us staring back into the mirror than there was before.

We’re not “less than” anything. We’re gaining weight and curves and character because we’re growing amazing babies inside. We’re putting on pounds and packing away smaller sizes for now because we’re getting ready to sustain life by nursing for months (or years) to come. We’re sacrificing a physical aesthetic because we’re called to a spiritual one that’s far greater than we can imagine.

If you’re where I am now, or if you’ve been there, or are headed there, or hope to someday be, picture that glorious moment when you cradle your brand new baby in your arms and you just can’t possibly look away because they are the most perfect, precious thing you’ve ever set eyes on. Imagine that empowering moment of becoming a mother for the first time (or the second, third, fourth…) and that space where, suddenly, none of the curves matter in any way at all, because this life was just born from within you and you are witnessing and holding a miracle.

Now there’s some honest self-talk for those of us wondering if we’ve maxed out yet another maternity item or if we’ll ever get back into our pre-pregnancy jeans.

Mamas, what God does within our bodies in nine months time is nothing short of spectacular. The glow that people talk about that feels so hard to obtain? It’s radiating, not because we’ve gotten enough sleep or worked out four times this week or eaten all of the “right” things, but because no one can just can’t quiet the beauty of motherhood by toting a few extra pounds or sporting the only pair of pants that fits for an entire trimester.

Let’s be kinder to ourselves, ok? And for heaven’s sake, friends and family of pregnant people everywhere, let’s please be kinder to the pregnant mamas in our midst.

It is one thing for a sweet and excited big sister to shout her mama’s big belly status to the world because she’s three. It’s another thing entirely to tell an expectant woman that she’s getting big, or that she must have her due date wrong, or that she’s clearly having twins because you’ve somehow forgotten that pregnant bellies are still attached to actual people with feelings. Please just don’t.

There are plenty of other, more helpful things to say to a woman who is growing a baby. Tell her she is beautiful. Tell her she’s doing a great job. Tell her your best story of why parenting has been so incredibly good. But please keep the sizing up and the judgment and the assessing comments to yourselves. I promise you, she has plenty of challenging dialogue to navigate on her own already.

Mamas, you are gorgeous for all of the changes you’re going through. And you’ll be still be gorgeous on the other side of pregnancy when the same thoughts challenge you from a different angle. You’re strong. Able. Powerful. Radiant. You are sustaining life.

Pregnant with Eloise, Summer, 2013. I had to learn how to embrace my body then, just as I am relearning again now.

Pregnant with Eloise, Summer, 2013. I had to learn how to embrace my body then, just as I am relearning again now.

On the hard days, put on what makes you feel most beautiful. Take extra time to do something that brings you joy. Then sit for a while in the nursery, or journal or talk or sing to baby, and remind yourself that there’s nothing else in the world but this that garners such incredible reward.

so much love from this growing mama,

molly madonna

 

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decisions, decisions. (81)

Now that our largest de-cluttering effort is behind us, I feel like the mental space around me has opened up, too. My brain hit the ground running this morning as we started the new week, and all of the things that were back-burnered for a few weeks are again at the forefront of my mind. It’s exciting!

I love being able to take physical steps toward baby’s arrival, even if that’s a far more simple process for us this time around. Sure, we have most of the baby gear we need, but that just means we can make careful decisions on the few things we’ve left to get for this little one, and then we can make some fun choices, too.

Baby will be sleeping in Eloise’s old room, which I call the nursery now because saying “baby’s room” felt kind of abrupt and unfair to E when we first moved her over to share with Henry. I actually think she loves sharing a room with her big brother, but since her dresser and some of her things are still across the hall, I also think it can be a little confusing some days. Right now, the nursery is in transition mode, but much farther down the path toward baby’s room than it was when it was filled with garage sale items a week ago.

When Henry was born, I found a fabric that I absolutely loved and wanted for his crib bedding, and my mom knocked it out of the park putting things together for me just as I’d pictured, with coordinating fabrics from the same line in all of the right places (she’s good like that 😉 ). I leaned into my love of giraffes the first time around, so yellows and grays and neutral tones dictated the space. I was so happy with how it turned out, feeling a bit more masculine than feminine, which went with my hunch about baby’s gender. A girl would have slept just fine in that cozy room, but I’m glad it worked out to be Henry’s space. Below are a few pics from my original post about H’s nursery:

For Eloise, we painted baby’s room a beachy, pale blue, and we accented things in red, mustard and olive. I had a hunch she was a girl, and I knew that if she was girl we’d name her Eloise, so I pulled from my attraction to all things Indian and used things like a sari blanket, a red metal lantern, paisley and floral patterns, a pouf ottoman and elephants to accent the room. When “Ellie” (although I’m still stuck on Eloise) was born, it felt perfect for her. I never did post her nursery photos in a 100 days post, but here are a few from before we welcomed her home (sans wall decor, but you get the idea 😉 ):

Now that this little bambino is coming along, it’s time to personalize the pale blue room for another babe. I love the idea that they’d all have their own nursery, and it helps me to feel connected to baby as I work toward a space that feels right for each one. This go-around though, I’ve had a terrible time gaining any insight as to the gender of our little bean. I have a boy’s name absolutely stuck in my head, but 75% of people who weigh in with their thoughts say girl, and Eloise is pushing hard for a girl, too. I’m waiting for Henry to make his determination, because he was adamant about Eloise last time and I trust his intuition as much as anyone’s. Jason and I just kind of shrug our shoulders and say, “It is what it is!” whenever we talk about baby’s gender as a family. I’m trusting that God knows what will add to our family dynamic best, and I’m excited to see who He’s chosen as the next little delight in our lives.

Gender curiosities on the table, I decided to stick to a theme that involved animals again, but wanted to incorporate calm, earthy tones and nothing too bright or bold. We’ve added a twin guest bed to the nursery now, and the bed and baby’s crib are both white. With the beachy walls, the white furniture and our proximity to a beautiful body of water, I’ve decided to slant the nursery in a nautical direction this time around. I’m excited about the little details as they’re coming together, and I’ll be thrilled to share the final product as baby’s arrival gets closer.

There are so many amazing things about pregnancy, and truly, I think nesting and preparing a welcoming space for baby are among them. For the first part of pregnancy, so many days go by where it feels like there’s not a lot to do to prepare for such a life changing event. Eating well, praying, and trying to wrap your mind around a new person in your life are plenty big charges, but in a tangible way, I think most of us only start preparing for the physical space and needs of a baby come our second and third trimesters.

So we’re here now, and I’m so happy about it. Baby’s arrival seems more palpable by the day, and creating a space where I know I will rock and sing and nurse baby to sleep night after night is good for my heart. He or she is becoming a reality slowly but surely. The changes around here are evidence, and I’m grateful.

81 days, more or less, until we’re snuggling our tiniest bundle. When I started 100 days this time it felt so far away, but just look at the countdown passing by!

speaking life over this baby and the room that will soon be his or hers. prepping for babies never gets old to me!

mm