MollyMadonna.com

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you are Henry. you are six.

Oh, Buddy.

How did we get here so fast? Maybe the fact that I’m writing you a whole week past your birthday is good evidence that things are moving faster than I can keep up. As always, I long for more time with you, I ache to dedicate more time to you, I wish I could free up my hands better to do more for you. And the truth is, I’m probably always going to feel that way as your mom, no matter how well things are going, or how beautiful a spot of 24 hours might be with you. There will forever be more in my heart than I can show you in the flesh. That’s just how this parenting gig goes. I pray that someday you’ll have babies of your own, and then you’ll know just exactly what I mean.

Henry, love, you turned six last week. SIX. The night before your birthday, I thought back to that night in the hospital with your dad as we waited for you, knowing so very little of what was to come and feeling all of the anticipation I could ever feel just before seeing your perfect face and bringing you close to soak you in. I won’t forget that night, not ever. Nor how you came forth with gusto at 3 a.m. on the dot, the time of your birth telling, even then, of your precision and personality. You were a marvel to me and to all of us who love you, and you still are.

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If I could tell you any one thing today that would cement in your heart forever, it would be that you are loved at all times, no matter what. You know that God loves you, and you know that Christ died for you. You can repeat back to me that I love you “a crazy ton!” and you’re good at having all of the right things to say. But there are days when I wonder if you know that you know that you know that we love you deeply, widely, with all of us, and that you can always rest there and find peace.

Your heart is a lot like mine, sweet boy. Willing to pour out and love hard and forgive over and over again, always searching for the best in someone, finding the silver lining when things get tough. That’s all beautiful to me, but because I can recognize it, I also know how tricky it can be to keep that pace and take that angle every single time. Your capacity to love will sometimes mean you accept things you shouldn’t, you feel guilty when you don’t need to, and you take on the aches and pains of others as your own, without realizing the cumulative cost. I see this in you, and it’s sometimes hard when I notice that you’re already learning about disappointment and hurt on a deeper level than I want your six year old heart to understand.

As your mama, I want to protect you from things, and sometimes to a fault. I’ve gotten better at just letting you go–to run and jump and explore and fall and fail and get back up again. I have to do that. But I’m afraid we rush things in this life, so there’s this nagging voice in the back of my head that tells me you need to grow tougher, faster, when really, you don’t. You need to be a little boy, and to learn the world through little kid eyes. You do not need to grow up any faster. While you’re small, be small. Time is going more quickly than any of us likes, anyway.

You are smarter than I ever was at your age, and the way you think about things always stops me in my tracks to think differently about them, too. It’s one of my very favorite thing about you. Your mind is always going, and you have so many creative ideas! Sometimes my impatience as a grown up stifles this part of who you are, but that’s my weakness, not yours. Your attention to detail and the care you put into everything that matters to you will serve you well at every stage of your life. Don’t change that part of you for anyone, OK? God made you so wise and so sharp for a reason. The world needs you to be who He created you to be.

I could go on and on for days to you, Henry David. You were the first baby I ever loved as a mama, and you’re always going to be. I know you know that you get to stay my little boy forever–in your thoughtful way, you verbally remind me of that on days when you’re so clearly growing up and you can tell it’s bittersweet for me…your sensitivity to the feelings of others is a gift.

Of course, there are things in this stage of life for you that aren’t perfect, and I’m not writing you to pretend that we always get things right, or that there’s never any bumps in the road. We have plenty, you and I. Being so much alike, we clash. Wanting to care for each other well, we’re painfully aware of when we get it wrong. I forget you’re six sometimes, and I expect too much. You forget I only have two hands and two ears sometimes, and you get frustrated when things can’t be focused on you. That’s totally fair. I would feel the same way if I was six and had as much to contribute as you do! We’ll keep working on that balance.

What do I love most about you these days, sweet boy? Oh my goodness, I adore your heart for your siblings. You love them so well, and you care about how they feel. This morning, you read your bible on the floor next to Crosby while he played, and as I peeked around the corner to check on your both, there was such gratitude in my heart. He loves you so much already, and he is at peace with you, which is a treasure. Eloise loves to adventure with you, and she’ll do anything you suggest so long as you’re caring for her in your way as you go. You are a natural born leader, which means there’s lots of love in our house when you’re loving, and lots of crazy in our house when you unleash your wild side. You’re my right hand during the week when dad is at work, and that’s a pretty tall order for a six year old. You weather it well.

I love that you’re reading so well, and diving into stories over and over again of your own volition. I love your appetite for learning. I also love to watch you run–so much energy bursting out of you from every side. I love that you notice things. I love how you pray. I am thankful every single day that I’m your mama–even on the hardest ones. God knew what he was doing (of course!) when He let us borrow you for this life.

IMG_5154I hope to keep you forever and ever, but I also pray that I will steward our time together well, so that someday, you’re ready to take on this great, big world. You are only six, and I can already see the plans swirling around you for the future. It is bright with you in it, precious boy. It is so, so bright!

i do love you a crazy ton, and then i love you some more!

mama

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sacred beginnings.

Ten days gone by…ten nights ago, I was typing away for day two of my one hundred day countdown to baby, so curious to know how many more days might go by before we met our sweet little bundle. That night, I went to bed praying again that our babe was near. When morning came, I knew it was the day. All of the signs pointed to our newest love making his way–on his due date, no less! After so many days and nights of contractions and what felt like so much waiting, it was time to meet the bean.

For all of the times I’d felt like baby #3 was unpredictable and mysterious, he was gearing up to be surprisingly punctual. That morning, as we made preparations to go to the hospital to welcome him here, the joy in my heart welled to a degree I just cannot explain. There is a mighty story to tell about this little one’s entrance into the world–plot twists and turns and so much from a spiritual and emotional standpoint that I’m not quite ready to articulate just yet, but soon. We were blessed to have the day captured in photographs by a sweet and talented friend of ours, and I’m looking forward to sharing some of those images in time, too.

Most importantly, God honored so many prayers and requests last Thursday, September 29th, and it’s a day we will never, ever forget. When Crosby Eames was born into our family at 3:53pm that afternoon, it was as if he’d been a part of our crew forever. His name had been pressed on my heart for a long, long time, just as with Henry and Eloise, and when Jason announced Crosby was a boy, I nearly burst. The moment was surreal, sacred, relieving, perfectly beautiful.

At nine days old, Crosby Eames is as much a part of the fabric of who we are as he could ever be. This first week of sleepy days and interrupted nights has been sweet in its own way…different from when we welcomed Henry or Eloise, but again, sacred. Crosby is a peaceful baby. No doubt he is still waking up in these early days together, but there’s something about him that tells me he’s settled, not restless. He is finding his place in the rhythm of things in the little blue house.

Henry and Eloise have welcomed Crosby graciously, doting on their little brother in ways that make me so grateful as a mom. God has been beyond faithful to meet us where we are and to meet me in the quiet moments when I’m adjusting to the hard things along the way. Crosby’s birth has afforded me a new level of intimacy with God that I could not have expected but am so eager to receive.

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All snuggles and smiles.

After ninety nine days of writing to this sweet babe we didn’t yet know, I’ve wanted to embrace the sacred space that falls around a family when a new baby comes into the fold. We’ve spent our first week quietly navigating new territory as a team of five, and I have so much stored up and waiting to be shared when the time is right. There are very tough moments to complement all of the incredible ones, just as it should be when everyone goes through a major transition together at once. I promise to share about those things eventually, too.

In the meantime, Crosby and I are settling in as mama and babe. Having another boy to raise is exactly what my heart sensed in the last days leading up to his arrival, and he feels like the perfect fit. I am just as in love with him as I’ve been with Henry and Eloise when they arrived–it’s true that your heart just grows bigger and finds a way to love more, and equally. Already, I’m holding tightly to these first, tiny days and knowing that they’ll pass all too quickly.

As much as I was eager to have him here, Crosby’s arrival turned the tide on a new emotion…the desire to slow down time just as much as possible so as to treasure the days and hours as best as we can. Pre-Crosby and Post-Crosby are both seasons I have and will treasure in the days to come. Sitting here trying to wrap my mind around it all, I’m grateful more than anything else. More joyful than frazzled, more at peace than stirred. The fact that we are even privileged to embrace a baby so fresh from God is more than I can fully process. Life is just the most precious gift!

I can’t wait to share more of this journey as it unfolds, and especially to write Crosby’s humbling and life-changing birth story. For now, though, I’m off to sip coffee and snuggle this little bean of ours while life and time permit…

Saturday afternoon coffee date! (The first of many, to be sure:) )

Saturday afternoon coffee date! (The first of many, to be sure:) )

taking nothing for granted, but so filled up by what’s right in front of me for today,

mm

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sibling love. (2)

I asked Henry and Eloise today if they might like to write letters to the new baby. Both were very enthusiastic. I wish I could write Eloise’s entire letter in her sweet little accent and vernacular, but I thought a straight translation would be better for clarity’s sake 😉 The kiddos dictated, and I typed. My heart about burst. I hope this little bean knows just how much he or she is loved already. Soon, soon!

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Dear Baby,

Happy to see you soon. Our whole family and come to Disney World soon and see my heart backpack. And come to meet big sister. Meet your other big brother again, and Mommy and Daddy and Kruger, and we’ll even bring you to church.

Hope that you like the world. And see the world when you come out soon, and we’ll see you. But Mommy will be at the doctor for a couple days, and you won’t see us then, but you will see us when Mommy heals and makes sure your safe.

And wish that you had a birthday party. You will come soon with Henry’s birthday party, ok?

I wanna play with you and love you so much. I wanna help you and help take care of you. And here’s our dining room and our living room and our play room. And we have a room for you and a room for us. And I made a picture for you, just special. A little teeny baby picture.

I love you,

Eloise

 

Dear Little Bean,

This is your big brother. I love you, baby. You are so cute. You’re the best brother or sister besides Eloise.

The world is so fun, baby! You’ll love it! When you get to visit Disney World, you’ll love it SO much! And you won’t want to go home from it.

I want to snuggle you and play with you and make you laugh SO much, I just can hardly wait for you to be born!

Being born is scary…just a liiiiittle bit. A tiny, tiny bit. But your mama will be holding you. Your mom is so nice and so careful with babies, you’ll just wanna not let go of her.

I can’t wait to meet you, baby. Cuuuz, it’s the best part of having a new baby brother or sister!

We have your room almost ready baby, and you’re gonna love it! You room is so fun, full of sea creatures and whales and turtles and jellyfish and seahorses and octopuses. You’ll just love it so much, I’m just gonna kiss you and hug you alive!

Love, Henry

It’s so dear to me that H and E anticipate this little one just as much as we do. I think it’s wearing on them a bit that baby has yet to make an entrance, but I’ve promised them that the bean will be here to join us as soon as he or she is ready. They continue to pray over baby and my belly, talking to both all of the time. What a gift as a parent to bear witness to their simple love for a child they’ve not yet met, and to know that God is preparing their hearts as well as our own.

proud to be their mama,

mm

 

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the napping house. (4)

A sleepy spell has officially fallen over the little blue house today. Mostly, I’m just so thankful that there’s room in our lives and schedules to permit it–a gift that’s not lost on me at all right now. With contractions not discriminating between day and night for the past week and then some, I am one sleepy mama a lot of the time. It’s just about the greatest thing that I have help on hand and almost zero plans each day for the time being.

Grace is the real deal, if anyone should doubt it.

Our ever energetic Eloise has been extra snuggly and quiet today, nearly falling asleep at the lunch table around noon. She is just about over her afternoon nap, but today she curled up and was out in about two minutes flat. I love the dreamy napping opportunities that arise when they still do–it’s a sweet thing to see your little ones rest peacefully, isn’t it? Henry was having a rough go this morning, so I sent him upstairs for quiet reading time as well, and together, we’ve all had a good (and much needed) dose of silence for a few hours. I didn’t nap, because my mind is really busy, but I’m so appreciative of the chance to think without input coming in from all sides.

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Mom has been working on a large pot of homemade chicken noodle soup in the kitchen, and it’s my very favorite. The smell wafting in from the other room is the perfect antidote to the ebbing and flowing contractions-for-days blues that I’m working hard to battle. I know baby will be here in his or her timing, and I’m really happy that God is in control and I’m not. At the same time, every time my contractions start up again, the hope wells up in me that baby is almost here; I’m just so eager to see our little one soon. Normal, end of pregnancy sentiments, to be sure.

Each night the kids go to bed saying things like, “If the baby is here in the morning…” and “When the baby comes we’ll…” and it’s all very true and good. The itch to introduce them to their newest sibling is pure and honest, and I know it’s ever closer. Tonight will call for early bedtimes for all and another chance to seek the beautiful in the ordinary (and especially in the sacred gift of carrying this baby within for as long as God has ordained).

I am so thankful for the glorious fall breeze coming in our windows all day long, the sun pouring through the trees all afternoon. It’s a great time to celebrate the time we have now, and to think of all the good that is to come.

snuggled up and cozy (and contracting like a boss 😉 ),

mm

 

 

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what does it look like? (12)

It’s easy enough to live in a box. Easy enough to look at how the world does things, or how the people around us do things, and then to lock ourselves into those images and limitations, believing that our pictures should look the same.

I woke up this morning, having rested a fair amount for this stage, and still felt so unbelievably tired. I cried to Jason, telling him “I’m not just tired, but all of the kinds of tired.” Weary, worn, emotionally spent, running out of steam in my own mental race against days and the physical things and the actual clock on the wall. This unrest is not from God, I know, but from the enemy we face who constantly tries to steal, kill and destroy. He is relentless, and yet our God is still bigger.

I even tried to rest in that truth this morning, but I couldn’t quite get there.

We decided that I’d go to church on my own, and that Jason and the kids would stay home. Our church is currently doing a series on sex, and while I’m grateful to belong somewhere that is unafraid to face real issues, it’s not the series we feel most comfortable bringing the kids to right now. In light of all of the germs that inevitably come home from Sunday school at this time of year, we’re pretty set on having the kids with us in church at least until baby is settled in, which leaves us with a few options. This morning, it felt like some worship time for me and some down time for the rest of the family was a good choice.

I got ready for church and was set to go, and then I sat down on our bed and tried to soak in a small slice of peace and quiet instead. The thought of wandering the halls at church and having people comment on this belly and my due date and then the inevitable, uninvited tummy rubs and pats was just too much for me today. Maybe that shows a sign of personal weakness, but I really don’t mind if it does. It’s just the truth.

I wasn’t really able to see past church, or missing church, or whatever the morning should look like, and then Jason suggested I needed to just get out and be elsewhere for a while. It’s true that when I’m at home, I just keep seeing more and more things I think I should do or that actually need to get done. Breaking out of that particular box is, evidently, quite hard for me right now.

I just needed to go through the motions to get past my sticking point, so I packed a bag with a few things and some noise canceling headphones, and I got in the car. At the coffee shop just a few blocks away, I pulled into an empty parking lot and walked into a quiet, unpopulated space. I ordered a bagel and a latte and sat down in my favorite booth, way at the back. I put headphones on, cranked up worship music, and blocked everything else out.

Space. In spite of being so grateful to share space with this baby most of the time, I’m just craving space in the worst way. Unconventional, perhaps, but church for me this morning has looked like this:

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Not so much like a pew in the midst of a congregation, but me and God, alone in a booth in the back of a coffee shop.

“This is what I call fake-resting. I’m wearing pajamas…It looks like I’m resting, too, but I’m not. I’m ticking down an endless list, sometimes written, always mental, getting things back into their right spots, changing the laundry, wiping down the countertops…I fake-rested instead of real-rested, and then I found that I was real-tired…Part of being an adult is taking responsibility for resting your body and your soul.” -Shauna Niequist

Maybe I could have learned something valuable about sex from Song of Songs this morning, but I think God was trying to meet me somewhere else. It’s why I felt stopped up in the bedroom as I was ready to leave for church. It’s why Jason prompted me to get out and get quiet–there’s just not a whole lot of quiet happening in our house these days, and he knew I desperately needed it. It’s why Kari Jobe has poured into my ears for the past hour and a half, and why I’ll find my right place back at home for the rest of the day when I return.

Sunday morning church could not be put in a box for me this morning. It looked like a tea latte and a bagel and a book.

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Before I left the house to come here, I stopped Henry for a minute and asked if we could talk. I apologized for being so tired, and explained just why I feel like I do these days. I asked him, “You know how, when you’re super tired sometimes, everything just feels a bit harder?” His reply: “Not really, Mom. I never really get very tired.”

How true that is, and it’s because our babies instinctively know how to rest. They rest when they need it, and they (mostly) sleep long hours through the night. The weight of things I let myself carry do not fall on the shoulders of our babies, and thank goodness.

The message in “church” for me this morning is coming in louder and clearer: Molly, let yourself be more of a child who trusts me, and less of an adult who relies on herself on all days and at all hours. Put down the box of what things should look like, and come to the table for me to show you what they actually look like.

“Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you. Be alert and of sober mind. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour. Resist him, standing firm in the faith…” -1 Peter 5.7-9

I’m going to head home to make the most of the rest of this Sabbath day. God is faithful in all things…in knowing our hearts, in seeing our needs, in providing rest. When we invite him, he meets us where we are, church pew or corner booth.

grateful,

mm