MollyMadonna.com

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We’ve Been Here Before. (20)

“I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream…” You know the feeling. You’re in familiar territory, though it’s not déjà vu. Maybe you know what to expect, but some of the variables have changed. That’s where I feel I’m sitting with 20 days to go on a countdown to an approximated date on the calendar. We’re in the waiting. The waiting is fun, but also hard, and certainly different now with three kids in the mix who all have their own feelings about it. We’ve been here before, but it’s new.

We’re all staying busy in our own ways. H is reading 25 hours a day and building LEGOS for another handful. E fills up her days with imaginative play, any opportunity to get something else “ready for baby,” and reading for about five waking hours. C wants to build, play cars or house, be read to, get outside and ride his bike. (Not much has changed there.) Dad is hard at work at all hours, or if not, he’s likely hanging up a curtain rod or putting something else together for baby. And I’m either moving around like I have all the energy in the world or sitting completely still and unable to muster up even enough to tackle a single additional task.

We’re all coping in our own ways, too. Maybe a paragraph on this aspect would sound similar to the one above, or maybe our coping mechanisms aren’t only our activities, but the ways we’re engaging with each other, not engaging with each other and sometimes letting our emotions come out sideways. Normal, hard, new, familiar. I wish there was a how-to book on welcoming a baby when your kids are our kids’ ages. Maybe there is. I haven’t looked for it. That’s kind of how this whole thing is going these days. 😉 As we come closer to the day we’ll head to the hospital, there are a lot of things I haven’t considered in prep until now. It’s possible I should have a birth plan (and by this, I just mean our specific wishes written out so they’re clearly communicated to hospital staff…not a plan articulating exactly how I expect things will go). Maybe I should order items we’ll need or want right when we get home. (I did buy two boxes of diapers and four packages of wipes, so that should get us started anyway…) I mean, I’m not totally behind, there’s just a lot more going on in everyday life now than there was the first or second baby around. I’ve stopped being stressed by most of it, so that’s a good thing. See? We’ve been here before.

This morning, E and I went to get pedicures. It felt like a rite of passage of sorts, like it has before. Last pedicure before baby, most likely, and probably for a long time after baby, too. As we walked out the door, the nail tech said, “Good luck with everything!” which made baby’s birthday feel closer. I loved that. These days of walking so near to a life-changing event that we know is coming…it’s just such a unique feeling that becomes part of the whole story. And the “leading up to” dictates successes and failures in new ways when there are more people in the mix to be impacted by what’s next. We’ve been here before, but it’s new.

So everyone is learning. I have a feeling most are not articulating more than a fraction of what they’re experiencing, and it’s hard to guess a pulse on all of the people at once. Everything feels kind of pent up, with anxiousness and excitement and a lot of questions all rolled in together. Of course there are also moods and behaviors, which are new and engaging these days as everyone works through their own part of the story. It’s a time for loving each other exceptionally well in a season when no one has extra to add. I’m relying on God to fill those gaps and to narrow the divide as necessary, and while we’re merely human and lack the ability to fill in our own shortcomings, there’s no doubt God sees each one of us and cares about all of our extra needs.

We’ve been here before. And it’s still new. I think most things will feel like that in the days to come. It’s a stretching, growing, be still and move forward kind of time, and the best way I know how to proceed is one foot in front of the other. That’s about our capacity and maybe all we should expect of our very human selves as we’re moving through it. His mercies are new every morning. Thank goodness.

MM

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Tired Mama, Quiet House. (21)

Oh, Baby. Where do these days go? The wait to get to you feels like it’s been so long, but then each 24 hours flies by somehow and I’m back here, sitting on the couch, wondering what to say to you next. Today was a full day, beginning with appointments for you (us) at 8:30a. I’ll never tire of hearing your heartbeat, little one, which is great because today my non-stress test took twice as long as last week’s. You were just cozy in there and not giving them the kicks they wanted to see. I assured them you were mobile, but they need visible proof, so we hung out for a while and listened to the sweet rhythm of your heart, beating steadily next to me and tucked inside at the same time.

From there (and after second breakfast), we scooped up your siblings and headed out to go blueberry picking, to attend the last swim lessons of the summer, and to shop for school supplies. It was a little bit of a marathon, but we did it, and the fact that it was in the mid-70ºs and not hotter was a boon to our efforts. Even so, by the time we were done with all of the errands, everyone was spent. It felt like there was one good option as a way to wind down the evening–pizza at the beach.

We haven’t been out to the beach near as much as I’d like this summer, especially when it’s such a grounding place for everyone. We hadn’t ordered pizza in ages, either, so it seemed like a winning idea all around. Sadly, our pizza took two hours to be ready downtown, and we got to the beach for “dinner” at 8:00p. What we lacked in playtime in the sand we at least made up for in getting to watch the sun emerge from a hazy sky and sink down below the water’s edge. There’s never a sunset that can’t put a cap on a day in just the right way. Whenever you need things set right in your world, little one, I’ll take you to the beach so we can work the wrinkles out. There were some sad hearts tonight about not being able to fill up buckets of water and build a sandcastle of dreams, but I didn’t really think late pizza and a rainbow sunset were a bad way to wind down the day. All in all, we made it through a full Friday with spirits generally intact, and we also made it to 37 weeks. Great job, little one!

Tonight I’m feeling pretty worn out, and it’s late, so that makes sense. Everyone else has long gone to bed, but as usual, I’m up thinking through things I still need to do or procure or make a priority for the weekend. I’m so glad we’re headed into another few weekend days, which are all bonus days to me right now. It’s not that I expected you to come super early, but I’m just grateful for the time we do have to keep plugging away. Things are about to change in a big way and everyone feels it and knows it.

Tomorrow your big sister and I are off to some girly errands in the morning. After that, who knows what the day holds exactly? Probably just the guarantee that there will be some kind of pounding new nails into walls for hanging pictures, undoubtedly laundry, and likely some time out in the glorious weather, maybe sitting, maybe weeding and the like. No matter. It will get here when it gets here and we’ll hope to be ready for it. One day further into the calendar and one day closer to you.

Love you so, little honeybee. You are as sweet as can be in my belly and we’re all eager to know you out here, too.

Mama

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Dear Honeybee, Love Eloise. (22)

Dear Honeybee,

I can’t wait to find out who you are and I can’t wait to be your big sister. I’ve been looking forward to snuggling with you and I can’t wait to hold you. I think you’re going to love your room. We’ve been looking through baby clothes and deciding what to have ready for you.

It’s kind of hard to wait for you to be here and I can’t wait to find out what your name is and what gender you are. I like that we’re going to have close birthdays, but I hope I get to hold you on my birthday and you won’t still be in the hospital with mom and dad. I’m glad I chose to do homeschool so I can be around you more.

I think you’re going to really like the world and our family. I like all of the plants and flowers here, and when you’re old enough to walk, maybe we can go on a walk and I can show you all different kinds of flowers and things. I want to take you to Meijer Gardens and the park, and to Cakabakery for cupcakes when you’re older. We’ll also go to the farmer’s market and fun stores downtown. I want to read you lots of books. I’m so glad I’ll get to see you soon!

I’ll always love you no matter what. Love,

Eloise

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Standing in the Gap. (23)

I had a conversation today about parenting and all of the things I’m feeling right now as I try to parent well in the midst of pregnancy at this stage. It’s easy to notice where I feel I’m lacking, not just because my capacity is more limited, but because my inner critic is frequently loud and likes to speak up about so many of the things I could do better. As we get closer to baby, I’m able to give myself plenty more grace in some areas, but I still put a lot of pressure on myself, too. The healthy perfectionist is always trying to work towards a balance of these two realities, because the pressure can be good and helpful sometimes and destructive elsewhere.

At any rate, I was sharing how I feel like I’m lacking in my capacity as a mom lately, and how I know our kiddos feel the change and have their own feelings about all that’s taking shape around them. Mom is full with baby. Mom is more tired. Mom asks for more help. Mom says no to things that have previously been a yes. Those are hard shifts when you’re 4, 7.5 and 10, and I see it all for them and am calculating the cost. At the same time that it feels like a lot for kids to weather at once, it’s part of this process. Everyone making sacrifices for the sake of the whole family feels right and necessary. Still, I’d love to be capable of more than I am.

In my conversation earlier, I was reminded that in parenting, a really great, intentional parent will still fall short of what Jesus has to offer our children. While the gap between Christ and a negligent parent is significant, the gap between a great parent and Christ is (maybe smaller but) still there, because we can never be all that our children need (and we shouldn’t try). In our humanness, we can’t fill the space that only Jesus is able to take up. Not only is it ok that this is true, but it’s a saving grace to us, too.

When we pray for our children, the power of Christ, the presence of the Holy Spirit, and the love of the Father go before and behind our families. Where we can’t fill our own gaps and misgivings, God is able–and more than willing–to mend, heal, bind up, restore and resurrect what’s broken or missing. Isn’t that the best news of the day?! Being reminded that Christ will step into the space I can’t isn’t just consoling–it’s so hopeful. Our kiddos are way better off in Jesus’s care than mine any day of the week. So then, how much more impactful is a life of intentional parenting coupled with fervent requests to God for help on this journey? When I pray over our kiddos, it’s often for things in the immediate and for aspects of life down the road that feel obvious…protection, health, guidance, future spouses, a sense of who they are in Christ, the silencing of the enemy in their hearts and minds. But then, I hope to add more of this (and I’m borrowing/modifying words from another friend here, too): “Christ, be their parent in all of the ways that I couldn’t.”

Goodness. Even just typing that is relieving, because I know He has our children in His hands, that He loves them more than I could know, and that He desires to honor every request that is pleasing to Him. God’s care for our children–especially in moments when I don’t feel I can provide the level of nurturing that I’d like to myself, is far better than what I can offer on my best day. They are cared for immeasurably, no matter what.

I’ll never hope to fall short in my calling and duties as a parent, but I know it’s impossible that I’d get it all right. As with so many other things, I make mistakes in this area of life every day. The reality of Christ, waiting to meet our children where they need, when they need it, is so comforting and reassuring. Even in the areas where our kiddos will grow up and likely be able to recall some of the hard parts of life with their mom and dad, Christ will be waiting there to heal what needs healing, to restore anything that’s been broken, and to carry them forward into the life He has waiting for them. It doesn’t get much more beautiful than that. His redemption is the only redemption we could ever need…and the kids will be alright. 😉

MM

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Let’s Be Noticers. (28)

This morning we came downstairs and E gasped as I opened the blinds to our slider door: “Mom!! There’s a bald eagle!!!” and sure enough, one had just flown past our deck. We watched as it circled back around before flying over the water and away between houses. The timing was pretty perfect and the eagle was amazing; we couldn’t have contrived that moment on our own. But the fact that E saw it and celebrated it so excitedly was a gift in and of itself. It felt like a very good start to the day as we all hurried on to breakfast and off to take her to camp.

H has been away all week at overnight camp, so when I dropped E off today, I hadn’t seen H since Monday morning. I’ve been intentional all week about not being a shadow parent, but I’ll admit that I hoped I might catch at glimpse of him at least once during our twice daily drop-offs and pick-ups. As I walked back to the car after saying goodbye to E, I noticed H’s group sitting up on a balcony having breakfast, and I made the conscious decision not to call out to him or try to get his attention. “We pick him up in the morning,” I thought to myself. Then I sat in the car for a few minutes sending a quick email off to him instead. Just before I started to drive away, he came back out to the balcony alone, eating what was probably the last few bites of this morning’s cereal. Since he was by himself, I opted to shout a quick, “HD!” out the car window, and he turned around to offer me a big smile, a wave and an air kiss. My heart! I quickly waved and blew a kiss back, the window back up in a matter of seconds so as not to embarrass him, when he gestured to me to open it up again. “Where’s C?!” he asked. It was so sweet and sensitive of him to even think of it. And of all days this week, our littlest buddy was at home with dad, so I told H quickly, shouted a “Love you!” and headed off. It was a 20 second exchange, tops. But it was just what I didn’t know my heart needed, and if I hadn’t felt the nudge to stay just a few minutes longer, we both would have missed it.

From there I headed to my 36(!) week appointment and my first non-stress test. It was such grace to have everything check out as it should. Listening to baby’s heartbeat for 20 minutes on the monitor was an unexpected way to connect with our babe that I enjoyed so much–another gift among gifts stacking up, all before mid-morning. I came home to find a little bench sitting by the window just inside the front door. C came running, and I asked him what the bench was doing at the window. “I was watching and waiting for you to come home!” he said sweetly. A little while later upon his request, C and I spontaneously snuggled up on the couch to watch videos of owls “to learn facts about them.” All the while he cuddled his newest favorite lovey–a beanie baby owl of mine from years ago that I found in the basement while digging out baby items yesterday. For the rest of the day, he shared owl facts with everyone. What a joy! Just the kinds of things mama dreams are made of, right? And especially when feeling oh-so-pregnant and relishing in every good and beautiful thing or distraction or moment. So many graces.

This afternoon after the last day of day camp pickup for E, we stopped at our favorite blueberry farm for a quick picking session to snag some berries for the weekend. While E and I picked together, I mentioned that I could stay there all day, out in the quiet calm of the field. A few minutes later, E said to me, “It’s so peaceful out here. So quiet. And listen! Now the birds are singing for us and there are so many blueberries!…” She is a girl after my own heart. It was a perfect moment. We’d found a shady spot to pick out of the sun and were filling our bucket with July’s goodness, one handful at a time, together. I have the sweetest memories of picking berries with a very round belly twice before, and doing it again just feels like exactly where I’m supposed to be at this time of year. It’s a little slice of heaven every time.

It is one of my core values to live in wonder with our children, and when God makes a way for that desire of my heart to be filled, it’s just one of the best feelings ever as a mom. Part of my intention to live in wonder is to make a big deal out of little things that really matter because they point to God’s creation–a butterfly landing in a bush in the front garden, a family of baby killdeer running around in the sand, the smoothest rock on a rocky beach, the way the cucumbers grow from their flowers and the zinnias have gotten so tall. Together, we’ve cultivated a habit of noticing and sharing in the things worth noting together, and it’s probably one of the aspects of my motherhood I feel most confident about. Every time one of the kids points out a unique bug (or in C’s case the other day, a dragonfly exoskeleton), a small animal, a perfect flower or someone’s pretty dress, we celebrate the beautiful in the ordinary, and it makes the days resonate with gratitude in ways I’m afraid we’d miss otherwise.

I always want to be someone who celebrates beauty when I see it. I want our kids to know that it matters to notice the good, everywhere we can find it. I can’t wait to open up a whole new book of wonder as we bring home a tiny babe once more and everyone can watch first hand as he or she joins our family, grows and discovers. Our kiddos are going to be the best teachers to this little one, and it’s because they’ve embraced the art of noticing. It’s a joy to be out in the world together, where we all see things with different eyes and find wonder in different directions at the same time. Sometimes the noticing is what gets us through, and it feels like God offers little nudges of His goodness all of the time so that it’s there if we’re willing to seek and grasp it. I’m so thankful there were so many lovely things to pay attention to today. Outside of them, the day was quite ordinary–or it could have been.

So grateful for these days with our babies. My heart overflows when I think about the goodness of it all.

MM