MollyMadonna.com

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four weeks, and a new page. (day 29)

How time flies! I cannot believe that four whole weeks have passed us by–they’ve literally flown, day by day off of the calendar, and here we are staring a four week old baby (a one month old on Wednesday!) and the month of June in the face. May has been very sneaky, tip toeing past me as I sit with Henry from feeding to feeding and nap to nap. And as much as I have been so challenged by all that’s happened in these past four weeks, it’s true that they are gone “in a blink” like everyone said they would be; and I’m relieved and taking a deep breath and a little melancholy over all of it at the same time.

Henry is marvelous. I know I’m willed to say that as his mother, but my “mommyness” aside, I would still be in awe of the chance to watch an entire human being enter the world, then change and grow and develop into someone who has his very own personality and faces, inclinations and preferences–all in such a short time! Creation is so powerful. I can’t understand how anyone who has witnessed pregnancy, birth or the development of an newborn could question the possibility of God. His fingerprints have been everywhere on this journey.

As we approach the one month mark and life begins to return to some semblance of normal (although new and relatively unrecognizable compared to its previous state), I am preparing my heart and my mind, as well as my passion for the written word, to dip back into things that are just as much “mollymadonna” as they are baby and Henry and birth and the like. Undoubtedly, Henry will maintain a strong presence here on the blog and in my reflection of things, but this season of focused writing is winding down and another is winding up. I can feel it. The timing is right. And I have a catalogue of 120 some odd days of life as it began, both with and for Henry.

I am thrilled that what started out as a little self-challenge has become a collection of love-filled anecdotes and reflections for our little boy. In this process, I wanted only to honor him and the person he was becoming as he grew in my belly, and post-birth, to honor his new and powerful presence in our lives. I hope that I’ve done so here.

Tomorrow and the next day will be the final posts in my series of “days” for Henry, but what follows will be the beginning of something else. I don’t quite know what that will look like yet, but I’m excited to discover it as I go! I haven’t quite told Henry’s birth story here yet, and I think it would be the perfect conclusion to this season of days. As Henry turns one month old and I look back on all of the beauty that has surrounded us since his arrival, I recognize that the way he came into the world has had so much to do with how we have welcomed and embraced him in the days following his birth. I’m looking forward to sharing…

Thank you for journeying with me, and with us. And please don’t stop visiting 🙂 I still plan to blog daily, but will hopefully bring new and fresh things to the table for those who join me here. Until then, another day has gone by, and another few moments with Henry have made their way to our photo collection:

looking forward to what’s next!

mm

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as it turns out. (day 27)

Driving home from the hospital tonight after meeting a dear friend‘s sweet new baby girl, I had a few moments to embrace the joy that was so present in the hospital room–the kind that comes from cradling a day old baby and visiting with two delighted parents as they share their love for someone who has, and will, change their lives forever.

Today was a rough day for me in mommy-land. When it was fresh, I had grandiose ideas of a family trip down to the farmer’s market, a walk downtown and a picnic in the park. With a forecast boasting 78 degrees and sunny, I was determined to make the most of what I thought could be a picture perfect Saturday. But this was before I knew that Henry would want to feed every hour from 6:15am on, that I’d still (begrudgingly) be in pajamas at 11am, that I’d change clothes a few times due to feeding mishaps, and that we’d still be sitting in the living room trying to sort out the day just before 2pm. We did make it downtown eventually, scrapping the farmer’s market and picnic altogether, and we made it about 45 minutes–with dad rocking Henry the whole time, before the rain started and we headed back home.

This was not one of my shining moments as a mom. Admittedly frustrated with not being able to satisfy the little guy, I just wanted to give up trying. I never want to give up on Henry, of course, but the idea of being his sole source of food and nourishment can be overwhelming at times, and today was no exception. Thankfully, after we returned home and I fed Henry one more time, he had tired himself out enough for us both to get in a nap. It’s amazing, but two hours of sleep feels like an entire night in this newborn season, and I woke up with fresh eyes for the night ahead.

Naturally, I was thrilled to be able to sneak away (after feeding Henry again) to meet a precious new baby and to be away from the house for a little while. And although I was only gone just over an hour, the “quiet” time away was much needed after a day like today. The drive home was reflective and sweet, as “In Christ Alone” played on the radio and I was reminded once again that there truly is redemption in every single day. I came home to a still-fussy baby, more feeding and more wondering how to make life easier for Henry…for all of us. But I am a bit more able to manage than I was earlier.

Perspective is a beautiful thing, and God was gracious to me tonight. He is always attentive to our needs in the hard spaces, and as it turns out, He had His hand on me–on us, and on one more day. Although we’re facing a rough patch and needing a little more tangible encouragement than we might always require, I’m so grateful to be able to see where God is waiting when I’m desperately craving the kind of comfort that only He can provide.

challenged to embrace the hard things, the lessons, and the sweet new things in life tonight,

mm

*undoubtedly, there are more moments like this in our future:

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attached. (day 24)

There were a few days after Henry was born where a part of me mourned not being pregnant with him anymore. In those first moments of acclimating to life with Henry in the world, I was nearly weepy each time I did something that I’d grown accustomed to doing with a belly. As much as I had looked forward to sleeping on my stomach or reaching the faucet at the kitchen sink, I suddenly missed my very pregnant self with every regained freedom. For more than a week afterward, I’d feel phantom kicks where Henry’s feet had so often been, and it was terribly bittersweet every time. Back in church for the first time on Mother’s Day, I cried though whole songs during worship–not only because I was overwhelmed with the blessing of finally having little Henry with us, but because I realized I’d never feel him move to music inside my belly again like he so often had before. I was celebrating all of the new moments, sure, but I was a basket case about all of the sentimental ones we’d created over nine months of getting to know each other in a most sacred and personal way.

I think that in those first days I knew I’d arrive here, on the other side of those weepy, reminiscent feelings about pregnancy; but I didn’t process how quickly I’d be attached to new aspects of Henry that, like pregnancy, have their season but also come and go. We’re three and a half weeks in and already I am watching him change and grow so much–there are things I miss about his tiny, newborn self that I only just came to know in the past days and weeks. Henry is uncurling from the little bean that he first was and stretching himself out into the long, lean (although getting chubbier!) baby whose personality is taking our household by storm. And we are getting to know his every move and cry and indication, just as we are learning ourselves how to be normal, everyday parents of a little person and not just stressed out, worried parents of a newborn, fresh from God.

Tonight, Jason offered me a blissful hour of sleep while he cared for Henry. It was wonderful to sneak away and curl up in our bed without worrying that a little cry would push through those quiet moments. But when I woke up, which happened a few times, I kept feeling the presence of Henry’s tiny body, the weight of him something I’ve grown so familiar with against my own in these past weeks. Henry wasn’t there with me, but the sense of him was–in a way distinctly different than what I felt as I carried him inside for so long. In a matter of weeks, we have been separated and grown together in a new regard. Henry is as much a part of me as he ever was, but now he is his own person, too. We aren’t attached by an umbilical cord or such intimate proximity as we once were, but we are joined in so many ways that I would never exchange.

I am loving knowing him, caring for him, helping him grow. I know that the attachment we have now will change and stretch out over time, but for the moment, Henry is fully trusting and adoringly dependent of his mommy and daddy. And it’s just the most endearing thing…

still attached, just differently,

mm

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God will lift up your head. (day 23)

Since the day he was born, Henry has been lifting up his head on his own–and it always amazes me. Here he is, still so new and seemingly fragile in many ways, yet he can lift and turn his own head, look around and find a new place to settle it when he tires. I think this strikes me so much because our little baby boy seems so strong in these moments, already demonstrating a will of his own. I love watching him and observing this indicator of great development; the human body is so amazingly constructed that even so young a child can possess physical control and command.

Every time (and it’s no exaggeration) that Henry lifts up his head, I hear the lyrics to a Jars of Clay song in my own. I think it’s one of the many ways that God has reached out in encouragement to me over these past few weeks, reminding me–not only that he will lift up Henry’s head in every sense, but that He lifts mine as well. On these long days and nights as we acclimate to life with the little one, the song is a perfect reassurance that we are cared for, provided for and looked after. It is such a hopeful thing, that God would already use Henry to communicate to my heart on a daily basis in this way.

It goes without saying that as his momma, I’m proud of Henry for the big and little advances he makes each day as he grows…but it delights me even more that God is using him and loving him in ways that speak to me. I am continually blessed by Henry’s presence and the things that God is doing in my life as Henry’s mom.

God Will Lift Up Your Head–Jars of Clay

Give to the wind your fear
Hope and be undismayed
God hears your sighs and counts your tears
God will lift up, God will lift up, lift up your head

God will lift up your head
God will lift up your head
God will lift up your head
Lift up your head

Leave to His sovereign sway
To choose and to command
Then shall we wandering on His way
Know how wise and how strong
How wise and how strong

God will lift up your head
God will lift up your head
God will lift up your head
Lift up your head

Through waves and clouds and storms, He gently clears the way
Wait because in His time, so shall this night
Soon end in joy, soon end in joy
Soon end in joy, soon end in joy

God will lift up your head
God will lift up your head
God will lift up your head

looking up,

mm

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sustenance. (day 10)

It’s pretty humbling, this thing of God always providing enough exactly in the moment that we need it. I’ve experienced it many times before…living in Africa, raising funds for missions, emptying the piggy bank for necessary things…but I’ve never quite felt so provided for in the same way as I’ve been over the last ten days. God is nurturing my heart, my new-mommyhood, and my physical self through the generosity and selflessness of others in profoundly simple ways. At the end of every day, I can’t help but look back to reflect with gratitude on the one that has just come and gone.

God so often sustains me through prayer, worship, time alone, nature, relationships–the areas where I’ve grown accustomed to Him meeting me, and the places where I’ll first look to find Him when I’m postured to ask, confess, pray or praise. But lately God is showing up in acts of kindness, time, service, comfort and wisdom, and He is surprising me at every turn. I never imagined people dropping what they’ve got going on, or making incredible efforts to rearrange schedules just to come and help me and our new little family. Our parents have all made significant sacrifices of time and energy to come and be here with us as we acclimate to life with Henry, and they’re not just here holding the baby. They are cooking and cleaning, changing and washing, encouraging and loving and doting on the three of us in a way that is so elemental and basic and yet, so perfect and needed in this season. Friends keep dropping by to bring meals–some planned and some unexpected, but all in perfect timing. Thoughtful and surprise gifts have arrived in hand and by mail for our little son, blessing us with their sentiments and prayers and celebration. I look around this house and see signs of community everywhere–sustenance for my soul that is otherwise tired and subdued and ready for some semblance of normal to return again.

If having a baby and letting go of inhibitions, modesty, privacy and plans isn’t enough, what happens in the wake of birth is certainly one of the most humbling experiences ever. As someone who has a hard time sitting still, I’m having to learn a great deal about saying yes and saying no, about being served, about waiting, and about being patient with myself and this whole process in different ways than I perhaps expected. Undoubtedly, I’ll be back on my emotional and physical feet before long. In this healing space though, I’m just relying on the evidence I already have before me–that the details will fall into place and the laundry will get folded; the house will be kept as clean as necessary, the baby will have what he needs at every turn, and no one will go without under this roof. God is good–and gracious and merciful, all the time. All the time, He is. And it is good.

From the beginning…community:

From the beginning…LOVE:

sustained,

mm