Caleb and I took a nap together today. He's had a rough go with naps this week. Maybe because of teething, maybe because of the new skills he's learning, maybe it's just a phase he's going through. Either way, it's been a long week and we were both tired and getting grumpy when naptime came this afternoon.
I darkened the room and we settled into bed. He began to cry, so I softly sang a lullaby he's familiar with that I've been singing and listening to since I found out we were having a boy ("Godspeed (Sweet Dreams)" - The Dixie Chicks). He calmed right down, smiled, and settled in. When I finished, he shifted around until he was comfortable, laid his head down and drifted off. A few minutes later he picked his head back up, pushed himself over so he was snuggled right against me, grabbed my thumb and went back to sleep. It was one of those moments that stops me in my tracks. Even when I think I can't be any more enamored with him, he does something like that, and my heart holds him just a little bit tighter.
Thank goodness we had that time together this afternoon; it offset the madness that was bedtime tonight. That's just how it goes, isn't it?
Thursday, December 9, 2010
Friday, December 3, 2010
Reflecting
December 2, 2009
It's Christmastime again, so I've again been listening to "Winter Snow" by Audrey Assad (with Chris Tomlin) a lot. I was just making peas and broccoli for Caleb when it came on. I flashed back to this time last year. I was about 25-ish weeks pregnant, feeling our baby boy jump and flip and kick all the livelong day, listening to the song and thinking about the paradigm shift that pregnancy brought for the season. One year ago I was expectantly hopeful - as the advent hope - of what the following year would bring, and what life would be like for Christmas 2010. I'm listening to the lyrics with the same enlightenment as last year and then some.
You came like a winter snow, quiet and soft and slow
Caleb was born into a focused, calm but determined, dimly lit room (with the exception of my doctor's spotlight). He came out quietly and took his time finding his voice. Even when he did, it was a soft cry and didn't last long before he settled down. And goodness knows it was slow; it took four hours of pushing before he finally joined us.
Falling from the sky in the night to the earth below
It was the middle of the night when he came; 3:27am to be exact. He had ten long fingers and ten long toes, his daddy's eyes and feet, my mouth and chin, and to this day we're not sure whose nose he has. He was a perfect little angel, God's beautiful little boy gifted to us to care after him on this earth.
As I sit here, listening to the song on repeat and hearing "dada" whispered softly on the baby monitor, I feel a renewed kinship with Mary and compassion for God who watched his Son transition from heavenly royalty to helplessness in flesh.
It's Christmastime again, so I've again been listening to "Winter Snow" by Audrey Assad (with Chris Tomlin) a lot. I was just making peas and broccoli for Caleb when it came on. I flashed back to this time last year. I was about 25-ish weeks pregnant, feeling our baby boy jump and flip and kick all the livelong day, listening to the song and thinking about the paradigm shift that pregnancy brought for the season. One year ago I was expectantly hopeful - as the advent hope - of what the following year would bring, and what life would be like for Christmas 2010. I'm listening to the lyrics with the same enlightenment as last year and then some.
You came like a winter snow, quiet and soft and slow
Caleb was born into a focused, calm but determined, dimly lit room (with the exception of my doctor's spotlight). He came out quietly and took his time finding his voice. Even when he did, it was a soft cry and didn't last long before he settled down. And goodness knows it was slow; it took four hours of pushing before he finally joined us.
Falling from the sky in the night to the earth below
It was the middle of the night when he came; 3:27am to be exact. He had ten long fingers and ten long toes, his daddy's eyes and feet, my mouth and chin, and to this day we're not sure whose nose he has. He was a perfect little angel, God's beautiful little boy gifted to us to care after him on this earth.
As I sit here, listening to the song on repeat and hearing "dada" whispered softly on the baby monitor, I feel a renewed kinship with Mary and compassion for God who watched his Son transition from heavenly royalty to helplessness in flesh.
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Growing, Growing, Growing
We're only about halfway through month 7 and some of my predictions are already coming true! In the last couple weeks, Caleb:
*Cut his first tooth, and the second is right behind
*Began babbling
*Said his first word ("mama"!!!)
*Started giving "hugs"
*Improved his standing (though it still doesn't last long)
*Learned how to tip his toy box over
*Reached the max height limit for his infant car seat
*Increased his appetite from one cube of baby food to two for each meal
Where did my little baby go???
A few days ago we got a nice jumperoo for a great deal on craigslist. Caleb loves it and is slowly discovering the joy of jumping. Those chubby little legs are ALWAYS kicking. Once he gets more stable on them he'll be a human pogo stick in his jumperoo! We're also picking up an Ergo carrier this week. Sometimes Momma and Daddy need toys, too!
*Cut his first tooth, and the second is right behind
*Began babbling
*Said his first word ("mama"!!!)
*Started giving "hugs"
*Improved his standing (though it still doesn't last long)
*Learned how to tip his toy box over
*Reached the max height limit for his infant car seat
*Increased his appetite from one cube of baby food to two for each meal
Where did my little baby go???
A few days ago we got a nice jumperoo for a great deal on craigslist. Caleb loves it and is slowly discovering the joy of jumping. Those chubby little legs are ALWAYS kicking. Once he gets more stable on them he'll be a human pogo stick in his jumperoo! We're also picking up an Ergo carrier this week. Sometimes Momma and Daddy need toys, too!
Friday, November 5, 2010
My Greatest Fear
I'm afraid that God will take my husband and son away from me.
There. I said it.
I'm afraid that I love my husband and son more than I love God. I'm afraid that He will take them away from me to teach me a lesson. It's paralyzing.
I recognize that this is not the right perspective to have. God is not a giant bully man with a big stick, waiting around for us to do something that allows Him to beat us with it. He is loving and patient and compassionate and everything else in 1 Corinthians 13. His method of teaching us to love Him more isn't always to take away everything else that we love so that we're forced to love Him first. But maybe sometimes it is. And I'm afraid I will be one of those times.
I wrote last year about having to love Jesus more than I love my son, and how I was struggling with that even before his birth. Now that he's here the struggle has worsened and I find myself wondering whether it's even possible at all. Then I remember Job, and how God took away all of his children (as well as everything else he had) and he praised God anyway. Let's be clear on something: I am no Job. I am failing at loving Him more.
One of my closest friends lost her baby this spring. A full-term baby with no complications during pregnancy or birth. She was a perfect, beautiful baby girl. Except for the fact that she couldn't live and no one knows why. I don't know why my baby lived and hers died. She and her husband are not less loving than we are. They are not worse people. They didn't do anything wrong, didn't make some huge mistake, nothing to warrant their baby dying, but she did. The world I lived in before that was not free of miscarriage or stillbirth or neonatal death. I have other friends who have lost babies to miscarriage, and those losses were equally as tragic. But after this little sweetheart left the earth, I felt it even more deeply than I did the others and my world turned into one where babies die after perfect live births for no apparent reason, which somehow translated into a more realistic view of darkness and unimaginable heartache in a very personal way. Maybe it's because her baby was born just as alive as mine was. I know this mother reads my blog, so let me say to you: God is not punishing you by taking away your baby. And you are not punishing me by allowing me to be part of your grief.
I'm going to be very hypocritical and say that despite what I just wrote to my friend, I am afraid that He will punish me and take my baby away, and maybe my husband too. What does this say about me? Well, perhaps it says that I hold them too tightly. Perhaps I don't trust God enough to give them over to Him and trust Him for protection over them. Perhaps I'm just a big control freak (this is true). Whatever it says, I better take a knee and talk to God about a remedy because this is no way to live or love. I prayed it last October, and I'll pray it again: "God, thank You for giving me these incredible blessings to love, but help me to love You more." And I will continue trying my hardest to mean it.
There. I said it.
I'm afraid that I love my husband and son more than I love God. I'm afraid that He will take them away from me to teach me a lesson. It's paralyzing.
I recognize that this is not the right perspective to have. God is not a giant bully man with a big stick, waiting around for us to do something that allows Him to beat us with it. He is loving and patient and compassionate and everything else in 1 Corinthians 13. His method of teaching us to love Him more isn't always to take away everything else that we love so that we're forced to love Him first. But maybe sometimes it is. And I'm afraid I will be one of those times.
I wrote last year about having to love Jesus more than I love my son, and how I was struggling with that even before his birth. Now that he's here the struggle has worsened and I find myself wondering whether it's even possible at all. Then I remember Job, and how God took away all of his children (as well as everything else he had) and he praised God anyway. Let's be clear on something: I am no Job. I am failing at loving Him more.
One of my closest friends lost her baby this spring. A full-term baby with no complications during pregnancy or birth. She was a perfect, beautiful baby girl. Except for the fact that she couldn't live and no one knows why. I don't know why my baby lived and hers died. She and her husband are not less loving than we are. They are not worse people. They didn't do anything wrong, didn't make some huge mistake, nothing to warrant their baby dying, but she did. The world I lived in before that was not free of miscarriage or stillbirth or neonatal death. I have other friends who have lost babies to miscarriage, and those losses were equally as tragic. But after this little sweetheart left the earth, I felt it even more deeply than I did the others and my world turned into one where babies die after perfect live births for no apparent reason, which somehow translated into a more realistic view of darkness and unimaginable heartache in a very personal way. Maybe it's because her baby was born just as alive as mine was. I know this mother reads my blog, so let me say to you: God is not punishing you by taking away your baby. And you are not punishing me by allowing me to be part of your grief.
I'm going to be very hypocritical and say that despite what I just wrote to my friend, I am afraid that He will punish me and take my baby away, and maybe my husband too. What does this say about me? Well, perhaps it says that I hold them too tightly. Perhaps I don't trust God enough to give them over to Him and trust Him for protection over them. Perhaps I'm just a big control freak (this is true). Whatever it says, I better take a knee and talk to God about a remedy because this is no way to live or love. I prayed it last October, and I'll pray it again: "God, thank You for giving me these incredible blessings to love, but help me to love You more." And I will continue trying my hardest to mean it.
Thursday, November 4, 2010
Cutest Little Sailor
My Papa Willie never got to meet his great grandson. He loved bodies of water and houseboats, and everything that had to do with bodies of water and houseboats. My Aunt Sandy sent this as a gift for Caleb when he was born. This is a tribute to his Great Grandpa Miller. Is this not the cutest little sailor you've ever seen??
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
We're All The Same
I am not a crunchy mom, nor am I completely silky. I consider myself to be somewhat of a hybrid. I use disposable diapers. I've never used formula. I don't co-sleep. I make all of Caleb's baby food. I opted for an epidural when I gave birth to him. We did modified CIO. I love babywearing. I also enjoy pushing him in the stroller or having him ride in the shopping cart (as does he). I breastfeed Caleb throughout the day, but at night he always gets a bottle. We have made these choices because they are the best for our family.
There is a very unfortunate divide between the crunchy and the silky, and in some cases, the categories argue amongst themselves. We're all mommas here. We're all making the best decisions for our children and our families as we see fit. Each and every parent reserves the right to make the best decision that applies to their specific circumstance. Do I agree with every decision another parent makes? No. Do I respect that they are making very loving decisions and caring for their infant to the best of their ability? Absolutely! Just because I might not do something the same way another mom would doesn't make me right and her wrong, or vice versa. The thing about raising children is that in most cases, there is no clear, conclusive "right" answer. The only time I truly take issue with how someone cares for their baby is when his or her health is endangered. Other than that, the choice someone makes about how their baby is produced, fed, carried, and cleaned is none of my business. The decisions we make do not make us superior to one another.
The bottom line is that we're all mothers, we all love our babies, and we all want what we believe is best for them. We should be able to share our methods and approaches to childrearing without fear of being raked over the coals. Let's set aside our respective textures and support one another, shall we?
There is a very unfortunate divide between the crunchy and the silky, and in some cases, the categories argue amongst themselves. We're all mommas here. We're all making the best decisions for our children and our families as we see fit. Each and every parent reserves the right to make the best decision that applies to their specific circumstance. Do I agree with every decision another parent makes? No. Do I respect that they are making very loving decisions and caring for their infant to the best of their ability? Absolutely! Just because I might not do something the same way another mom would doesn't make me right and her wrong, or vice versa. The thing about raising children is that in most cases, there is no clear, conclusive "right" answer. The only time I truly take issue with how someone cares for their baby is when his or her health is endangered. Other than that, the choice someone makes about how their baby is produced, fed, carried, and cleaned is none of my business. The decisions we make do not make us superior to one another.
The bottom line is that we're all mothers, we all love our babies, and we all want what we believe is best for them. We should be able to share our methods and approaches to childrearing without fear of being raked over the coals. Let's set aside our respective textures and support one another, shall we?
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
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