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Saturday in real life. (98)

Sweet Baby,

Someday I hope you’ll come to love Saturdays like I do. They’re usually filled with family time and house projects and seeing people we love, and at this time of year, they’re also full of yard work, springtime events and weather warming up to a temperature I can get behind. This is probably one of my favorite times of year, with the hope of summer on the horizon and everything feeling full of promise as things bloom in the garden and all turns green.

This morning your brother ran his first 5K. It was a great way to start the day. We chased the event with donuts downtown and then the wheels kind of came off. Your siblings were all a bit melty, and I’m not sure why. As your youngest brother would say, “We were on the struggle bus.” It was true, all day long.

So here we are at the end of the day and I’m one tired mama. Weary, really. Hearts were extra tender today and needs were at a high. The weather followed suit with chilly rain after a forecast of warmth and sun, which I guess left us all on the same page. Your brothers and sister were sent off to bed early, and I’m not too far behind them. This is really just to say that there will be days and this has been one of them. Sometimes emotions get the best of us and sometimes we all just need a nap.

In spite of the hard moments today, there were shining ones, too. When your brother (who is four) said goodnight to me, he took my hand in his and said he wanted to hold it forever. Then, he kissed you goodnight in my belly and laid his head down, telling me he was going to stay there and sleep “right by the baby.” There might be some crazy days around here, but we have a lot of really good ones, too.

For all of the hard at times, we love deeply in this family. I can’t wait for you to meet your brothers and sister and to get to know their love and tenderness towards you.

To all the Saturdays to come with you in them, little one…

You are loved,

Mama

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Something’s abuzz. (99)

Sweet baby,

You’ll come to learn that we’re big on nicknames around here, and this practice of naming begins early on. Since we haven’t found out your gender or the gender of any of your siblings, we’ve given each one of you a nickname that’s gender neutral. These names feel more endearing than saying “he or she” or “it” as we refer to you and pray for you each day. You and your siblings have certainly each had your own personalities in the womb, and we want to honor who you are as you get ready to join us out in the world.

Before your big brother HD came along, he was affectionately referred to as “the bug.” Looking back I don’t remember why that’s what we decided, but at the time it sounded cute and little. Eventually, it became great fodder for a Very Hungry Caterpillar first birthday party, and ten years later, it’s still a name he claims from babyhood. It suited him well, I think. (And maybe even more so now, since he eats through as many snacks as possible and is always hungry for more. 🙂 ) He’s industrious and likes to dig in for the details. He’s not afraid of dirt and helps us all grow as people because of who he is–just like a necessary and endearing pal in the garden. I love him for it.

After “the bug” came “the button,” and Miss E has lived out that nickname well, too. She has always been tiny and cute, fashion-forward and creative. It’s fitting that her nickname would reference something that holds things together–she’s a healthy dose of glue for our family in so many ways. A sewing themed party when she turned one seemed just the ticket. Before then, I didn’t know things like chocolate candy buttons even existed, but it turns out first birthday parties can bring out the best and worst in a mom’s planning skills and penchant for perfectionism. Our “button” still appreciates the little details in things…the added intentionality that makes something special and not simply ordinary. She’s a vintage soul with a decorative personality.

Next to come along was your younger big brother, who we easily and affectionately refer to as “the bean.” Not only a jumping bean in my belly, but the kind of persona to perk you up at the drop of a hat, our “bean” is a force to be reckoned with –not a small plant in the garden, but a seed by which so much good grows. He is nourishment for our family through his energy and silliness, his ability to laugh at himself and to reach for what he wants without giving up. He is like a tree planted near water whose roots grow down deep. He’s tenacious and winding, and he was born at harvest time, which seems exactly right for our boy who loves tractors and combines and anything farm animals (just don’t mention any goats ;).

Now, as it’s your turn to teach us about who you are (even while you’re still tucked inside), we’ve chosen a nickname for you that already feels fitting though we haven’t met you yet. I hear the song over and over again in my head these days, “If I were a flower growing wild and free, all I’d want is you to be my sweet honeybee.” And you absolutely are: our sweet honeybee. We all agree. You are undeserved and un-earned goodness that makes everything in life more sweet. You’re a busy little bee in my belly and a welcome addition to our hive. We’re dreaming up your nursery space and everything is honey and cream and warm, reminding us of you. For so many reasons, it’s pure joy to imagine you moving about in our lives–no doubt you’ll make the days more beautiful with your activity, and no doubt we’re charged to care for you well. I love that in this way, we all feel we can be just an inkling closer to knowing you. The day is coming oh-so-soon.

So, honeybee it is, little one. Hopefully someday, you’ll love knowing who you were to us already at this stage. This longterm practice of (nick)naming before you arrive endears us to you all the more.

We love you beyond words and names. You are a marvel, honeybee.

Always,

Mama

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And so we begin. (100)

Little One,

Today marks the start of a rite of passage for you as a baby in our family…we’re 100 days from your due date, and from here on out I’ll be documenting notable (and not so notable) moments of this journey as your mama.

As you’ll come to know, carrying you and your siblings is among my greatest joys in this life. I may never quite put words to the honor it is to experience you growing inside of me, but I’ll certainly try. In your case, circumstances feel different, even as we’ve done this times before. We’re all a bit older around here–and hopefully wiser in ways, too. Your siblings are of ages that will mean a very different experience for us as a family when we welcome you into the fold. And please understand, even though you’re not here in our arms just yet, you are very much a part of who we are and how we go about daily life. Your brothers and sister talk to you, talk about you, create gifts for you and celebrate when we can all see you move around in my belly. We count you among us because you are. Your life has mattered to us from the very beginning, and the excitement surrounding your development only grows as you do.

To put it simply, we’re in awe of you. Daily, I’m surprised again at how miraculous and intricate and intimate this process of pregnancy feels–I will never stop marveling at the workings of it all. In case you should ever doubt it, I’ll just tell you now. You are a miracle. A million miracles, really, all working together in order for you to change and grow into the person our infinitely creative God has designed you to be. Someday I’ll tell you the story of this journey to you and all of the ways God points to you as His abundant blessing for our family.

It’s so humbling to be called to this motherhood, this life, this raising you from here until as far into the future as God ordains. And I’m thankful. Grateful beyond measure for who you are becoming and how you’ll fit into the picture of our tight knit crew. As your mama, I’m so proud of you already. You’re doing a beautiful job growing and you’re adding light to each and every day.

I look forward to this journey of documenting the days until your arrival. 100 or 90 or 110, or however God wills it to be, I’m here and so full of love for you my heart can’t keep it all in. Maybe this can be the overflow. An offering. A love note in the making as we grow in marvelous ways together.

Love you forever and then some more,
Mama

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another fresh start.

What is it about birthdays? I fall asleep one age and wake up another, and the day takes on a life of its own that feels different than the rest. You, too?

I’ve heard many adults say it’s “just another day,” but that’s not really how I feel about it. Just as with the new year in January and the start of a school year each September, a birthday feels like a fresh start to me. Let’s call it capitalizing on an opportunity—I can always use a fresh start.

It wasn’t until last year that I asked for time for my birthday, and Jason has been gracious enough to oblige. I don’t have any major agenda today except to sit quietly, to write and pray, and to reflect with gratitude on another year on this beautiful, magnificent, captivating planet. THIS is a gift.

birthday afternoon

In this stage of life and motherhood, I’m not sure I sit still or quiet often enough, but I ought to try. As a newer tradition then, I throw all guilt out the window as best I can on my birthday and I just GO. If I’m honest with myself, this “just go” mentality isn’t an easy one for me, and I’m wrestling that afresh these days. I’m grateful to Jason for his kind nudge.

It isn’t that I think I should be able to simply drop my responsibilities and throw caution to the wind with regularity (and today isn’t that). But even getting myself out of the house and putting down my role as mom and wife and teacher for a little while has gotten harder over time. It’s the result of a lot of factors, really, but I’ve lost myself a bit in motherhood, and I’m coming to terms with this in the quiet spaces when I do steal away.

I didn’t think I’d be here, actually. It just sort of happened. Maybe if you’re in the midst of young motherhood, you can relate. Or maybe you remember those days when your kids were young and your identity was largely based in the young family you were raising and the lives that depended on you 24/7. The past year has surprised me in a lot of ways—not the least of which is how our littlest is moving out of the toddler stage and approaching three. I didn’t imagine I wouldn’t be changing tiny diapers or still nursing or juggling infant gear by now, but I’m holding our baby’s hand instead of carrying him more and more; I’m soaking in every possible snuggle and bedtime rocking session with the awareness that I might not revisit this sweet stage again. I turn the lights out on another day, and as I slowly close the door to his room I wonder where the time has gone and who we’re becoming now…who I’m becoming as my babies grow.

What is God calling me to in this season where everything is changing and I’m finally picking up on the fact that the ground has shifted under my feet?

I have thoughts about where 37 will take me—where God will lead me as He offers each day as a gift not to be assumed, but savored. I don’t want to take things for granted, and I’m learning (yet again) that His story for me always turns out better than the one I continue to try writing for myself. I want to fit so many pieces into the puzzle so I can see it all clearly, and God keeps handing me just one fragment at a time—for good reason.

I may be a year older, and I *might* be a tad wiser, but I have far to go. Leaning in and listening closely is perhaps the best way for me to let plans unfold. Though I love every bit of being a mom to young kiddos, God is reminding me that my motherhood is best served when I don’t forget who I was before diapers and homeschool and all that’s come with parenting for me. I’m working on making space for life-giving passions (like writing and doula work) that aren’t mutually exclusive, because God keeps nudging me there.

It’s scary to let go and it’s scary to pick things back up, too, but it’s probably time. So I’m nervous, but not afraid. I’m hopeful and curious and anxious for what’s next. I think there’s more on the horizon to share, and that gets me excited—even with just a few pieces of the puzzle in view.

Here’s to 37, and to each of us growing into who we’re called to be, a little more, every day.

mm

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a note for today.

Mother’s Day. A day for all kinds of feelings to come to the surface. Jason and the kiddos gifted me with some time to myself this afternoon, and I’m grateful. No doubt I’m feeling all of the feelings today.

I just scrolled through IG, and posts run the gamut—celebrations of motherhood from every angle—sensitive posts acknowledging all of the women who are missing their mamas today or longing to be called mama themselves, photos of beautiful babies who are dreams and miracles come true, amazing women I feel so privileged to do life alongside.

I wanted to write the perfect, thoughtful post, but as much as I love words, I don’t have the right ones to offer today.

I understand both sides of the coin as best as I’m able, and based on my personal experience. That’s the very best I can do. Today, I celebrate the three incredible babies who have made me a mom—visibly—this side of Heaven. And I also celebrate and miss and remember the three sweet babies I never had the joy of mothering here on earth. Six lives that all matter equally to me. Six lives that matter equally to God.

To the world, we are a busy family of five with three healthy children, living the dream. I don’t take it for granted, these precious lives entrusted to us—not for one day. And I am so, so thankful for all that God has done. Yet, my heart knows the ache of longing, too. The reality of life here on earth is that we experience pain and loss right along with joy and abundant graces, and they’re not mutually exclusive.

I miss our three who aren’t here with us. I do. And the only thing that can fix the deep ache in me as their mama is to keep my eyes fixed on God, who bears the burden right with me and offers joy to replace what has been lost.

Mother’s Day. It looks different to each one of us. There’s no perfect path to motherhood—not in a fallen world. It’s OK that we wrestle with this, and even that we wrestle with God over it at times. He is a perfect Father who longs to meet us where we are—expectant, broken, hopeful, discouraged, barren or quiver full.

Longing for our heavenly three while I do my best to love our living three well, it brings me to the feet of my Father daily. This is a gift sometimes cloaked in confusion or ache, but a gift all the same. The longer I trust that God’s story for me is better than the one I could write on my own, the closer I draw to the healing hem of Christ, who heals my mother heart through the Father’s heart little by little, again and again.

Happy Mother’s Day to every mama heart today. God put this longing inside of us for a reason, and it wasn’t by mistake. I pray that He will continue to reveal Himself to each of us in ways that allow us to live into our hearts and callings with great joy and the fullness of His peace.

much love,

mm

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