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Baby Q & A with Henry. (10)

Q: What are you most looking forward to about having a new baby join our family?

A: Snuggling the baby and getting to teach them new things.

Q: What kinds of things will you teach your youngest brother or sister?

A: Well, to read, to draw, how to build things that they like out of LEGOS, new words, things about cars, maybe about what foods to like and what not to like.

Q: Who do you think the baby will look like, and why?

A: You said that the nose looks like Eloise, right? Probably like Eloise then.

Q: Who do you think the baby will like spending time with the most?

A: How can I answer that?! I need to meet them first…

Q: What do you think the baby’s favorite song will be when they’re little?

A: I think Irish music or one that you make up probably.

Q: What time of day do you think the baby will be born? What time of day do you think the baby will sleep best once they’re here?

A: Early morning. Knowing babies, probably between 6am and 6pm.

Q: How do you feel about becoming the oldest of four?

A: I like being the oldest, but sometimes I wish I was one of the younger kids. Just sometimes.

Q: We’ve called the baby “Honeybee” for quite a while. What attributes of a honeybee do you think the baby could have?

A: I mean, honeybees pollinate flowers and they bloom. Maybe love blooms because of this honeybee.

Q: If you could tell the baby any one thing about our family, what would it be?

A: This family is the best family that you could possibly get and we’re so excited for you to get here.

Q: What’s one place you’d love to introduce the baby to, and what would you show them if you could take them there?

A: Probably Disney World, actually. I’d show them the rides and Mickey Mouse…the fun characters.

Q: Any last words you have for baby tonight?

A: I can’t wait for you to get here and I can’t wait to introduce you to all of the fun of being in the world. I love you.

-HD

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Time and Space. (11)

The loveliest thing about this time of waiting for baby (and waiting for baby in the summer) is that as the days keep going by, our schedules and commitments continue to decrease. Because of how I’m feeling these days, I’m canceling a lot of what was planned in exchange for time at home and the ability to take it slow, and I don’t hate it at all.

In spite of almost no schedule, today filled up plenty with work to-dos and a few other things that I was glad to be able to fit into Monday. There were some unexpected, wonderful parts of the day that made it seem just right to still be waiting, and my heart and mind have been peaceful over that in a way that feels restful and restorative. I’m so grateful.

There’s a summer storm brewing as I write and I Iove it. Soaking up bits of summertime and August are good for the soul. My contractions are less intense tonight, and I’ll embrace the break. Soon enough they’ll be consistent and strong, and baby will be making his or her way here. For now, his or her being tucked away means a little more time to snuggle our other kiddos, pile onto the couch to read a book to them, give everyone haircuts and talk with our eldest until it’s way past his bedtime. Dinners are simple these days (or maybe all days in summertime?), outings are few, and this time we all have together is offering sweet new memories and challenging moments in good measure.

As an aside: Yesterday I had all of the laundry done except for one item that ended up in the wash right after I’d turned on the machine. THAT is worth documenting here because it only happens on a very rare occasion (and did it even happen if no one was there to see it?) It was a small victory on a day when I needed all of the small victories I could claim.

Time and space. They are sweetly available as of late, but on their own terms. Today I’m feeling good about that and wanted to note it, because it’s always fleeting in the end. And now, bedtime. Sleep is also fleeting, and I’m going to soak up as much of it as I can!

MM

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The Tonight Show, Starring…our Eldest Two. (46)

“Mama, I can’t sleep,” comes her voice from the top of the stairs. Tonight at bedtime, I didn’t have it in me to climb the stairs and tuck babies in, so we said our goodnights down here and dad did the tucking. Now, I don’t have the heart to send our girlie back up to bed, so I invite her to snuggle on the couch for a few minutes instead. I tell her she can help me think up what I’ll say in tonight’s post, and this has her intrigued. Then I remind her that once, long ago, she wrote a letter to her little brother before he was born. “Maybe you could do that again?” I suggest. She loves the idea, but first she wants to read the original letter, so we begin the exercise of going back a thousand posts to find it.

Before we get to the aforementioned letter, we find all kinds of other treasures…stories about her third birthday, her first ballet class of that season nearly five years ago, anecdotes about how she and her brother interacted in those days and how everyone was adjusting to the idea of a new baby coming along. As if on cue, I see a shadow in the stairwell and big brother makes his way down the stairs, too. Upon invitation, he joins us here on the couch. Now we’re all reading old posts together–laughing and remembering and having a moment I didn’t plan and couldn’t script. These growing babies of mine? They didn’t get the best version of me today, and yet somehow in God’s infinite grace, here He is providing a do-over of sorts at 10:30pm. I know this is His doing, because an hour ago I had zero capacity left for parenting. Now, suddenly, there’s plenty of space in my heart and body to take this time at this hour. Maybe the kids should be in bed, yes, but we all sleep better when our hearts are at peace, don’t we?

It’s probably a half and hour that we take to relish old words, old stories. But they’re here for the taking, and goodness, that’s my “why” poured out in front of me allll over again. This documenting of days that’s four times in the making by now? Sometimes I wish I weren’t so committed to my commitments. And yet. Would I trade any of this for the world? You can bet not. When I started writing to our babies ten and a half years ago, it was because I knew I’d want to be able to share memories with them someday that I’d otherwise forget. I guess I imagined them reading these “love notes” someday as adults–maybe when they’re each off to get married or have children of their own. But tonight? Tonight this labor of love is serving us all much earlier than expected. She needs to hear my reflections of who she is and how much she’s adored. He needs to read about how much I enjoyed our date out to the bookstore together way back when…how much I enjoy him. These memories can’t stay tucked away forever, and especially not tonight. Suddenly there’s a balm covering over the contents of the day that were less than stellar. Milk and honey when even just manna would have been a gift.

When our storytelling is over, I follow our eldest two upstairs because one asks for tucking in and I can tell that the other would benefit from a tuck in, too. At one end of the hall, it turns out there are shadows to slay and words to pray before peacefulness covers sleep tonight. Down the way, a simple blanket, a “Sleep well. I love you,” and the light on does the trick. We could’ve missed it all, but instead, a nudge in my heart and some dusty old posts have something else in mind. I don’t understand this goodness, but I’ll embrace it.

There’s so much I have to learn yet in this life and in this thing called motherhood. I know it’s never perfect and I know that my expectations can be too much. But I’ve also seen God show up in ways that I can’t explain outside of His being a nurturing, generous Father who meets our needs and then lavishes on us some more. Tonight as I feel emptied out, He fills me up again. In the words of a song I love, “I don’t deserve. I couldn’t earn it. Still He gives himself away. Oh the overwhelming, never-ending, reckless love of God.”

It turns out our babies did write this post for me tonight. Or God did, but so clearly through them. I’m better for it, and I hope that they are somehow, too.

MM

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Take Me Out to the Ballgame. (59)

It’s been a week filled with baseball here, and I can’t say as I mind. H’s team has played two games so far in their post season tournament, with one to go on Thursday. I can tell that he’s a little weary (an afternoon camp each day directly followed by baseball games each night feels a bit like a throwback to when school was still in session), but it’s still so cool to watch his team gel as the season winds down. As with anything in life, there’s much to learn when you’re 9/10/11 years old and that ball is coming at you fast over the mound. After a pitch to the helmet last week, H took one to the shoulder tonight. I’ve been so amazed at how composed he’s been when injured…it’s crazy to watch him mature so much before our eyes. I’m proud of his sportsmanship and the way he encourages and celebrates his teammates. That feels as much like a win as anything at this stage of parenting and life.

H’s team has had its fair share of victories and losses this year, and each time, they’ve weathered the roller coaster of either experience. As I reflect back on their season, I think about how life is so much like baseball and I hear my dad reminding us from an early age, “It’s not whether you win or lose; it’s how you play the game.” Isn’t that the truth? We don’t always have control over whether we win or lose. Life isn’t always fair, sometimes bad calls are made, sometimes we give it our all and the other team is genuinely stronger. Sometimes we get lucky, or we’re on our A game, or it feels like the stars have aligned in our favor. However the case may be, the attitude we take into any situation impacts our course. I probably don’t need to tell you that, but I’m reminding myself.

When I think about how this applies to my life these days, it’s obvious in a few main areas. Naturally I feel the weight of this in parenting most, when everyone’s moods are subject to change on a dime and I still need try to be steady and rational for all (even though I’ll admit I’m not always channeling rational). But how do I play the game? Do I fight with a kiddo pushing back at everything? Do I find a way to be firm and calm, but hold my ground? Do I let something go because I’m too tired to address it? All plausible, though I try to land on the second option as much as possible. These days with everyone home are great exercise in this category. Sanctification through parenting is the real deal, isn’t it?!

And then there’s pregnancy and all the hills and valleys that can come with it. Keeping my chin up on the hard days is harder fought this time around, but I also still hang my hat on loving this process and marveling at the miracle that it is every single day. I can say with assurance that as I set my mind on baby’s someday labor and delivery, my attitude and intention beforehand will chart the course in a lot of ways. Positivity and prayer and regular affirmations will be game changers, regardless of the circumstances.

I hope I’ll always attempt to play fair and give it my all in each aspect of living, though I know my best isn’t perfect and that I have bad days, too. When I think about H or any of his teammates out in the field or at bat–determination and grit in their expressions and hope ahead of them each new inning–it doesn’t take but a moment to remember why I love the sport so much or why I think it matters to learn to be a part of a team. I’m also reminded that every at bat–each new day–is a fresh opportunity to hang in there, to get the hit, to run with determination or to knock it out of the park. Of course there’s a chance we strike out here and there, but we step up to the plate with a clean slate and new possibilities every time. I hope more than anything, this season of baseball has taught perseverance and the joy of being surrounded by others. It sure is a good way to go through life–with a little breeze at your back and a team to cheer you on!

Batter up!

MM

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In the Wee Small Hours of the Morning. (76)

Little one,

I remember so clearly how I used to rock your oldest brother near the dormer window in our old house in the summertime. The birds were waking up, long before the rest of the world, and I’d imagine all of the other mamas in other places, nursing and rocking their babies to sleep at the same time, too. There was something sacred enough about that space that it’s still perfectly fresh in my memory a decade later. And I’m thinking about it now because it’s late and the hour feels small, and because I eagerly await the early mornings when I’ll have the chance to nurse and rock you back to sleep in just the same way.

So many things change over time, and so many things stay the same. Your brother is now ten and almost as tall as I am–if I tried to rock him in the rocker these days he’d laugh and probably fall out of my lap for lack of space (if he let me try it at all). Back then he depended on me for everything he needed, and these days he makes his own breakfast and lunch and cuddles up next to me on the couch so we can finish long stories in books he then pours over on his own. He’s becoming independent, which is right and good, but his reliance on me in those first months or years of life was so right and good, too. I have great hope to recreate those kinds of memories afresh with you.

It’s been almost five years now since I had a newborn to tend to in the middle of the night, and even though I remember it plain as day, it feels like it’s been a very long time. I’m a decade older (and maybe wiser?), but in a sense it’s like we’re beginning again in this phase of pregnancy, with the newborn stage on the horizon. Having you and your siblings spread so widely in age is becoming an unexpected gift in and of itself. I can’t wait to see your growth and development through their eyes. I can’t wait to watch them get to know you and love you in their own ways. Seeing them now as they look at other babies…there’s just something really beautiful about the anticipation of it for everyone here.

We’re so eager to meet you, honeybee. And while that day still feels far away, this countdown to you is diminishing quickly, too. Before then, we’ll keep praying over you and making space for you here. You are already so much a part of this family and who we are, and it’s just one of the sweetest parts of this whole miracle to get to watch your siblings witness it, too.

Love you so, sweet babe.

Mama