Beauty from Ashes (Part 2)

I wish I could say that this positive pregnancy test calmed all my fears, but no, they just morphed into a new, hormonally-charged worry. This time I felt much more pregnant than I had with the two we lost but we decided to do some hormone testing to be sure everything was looking okay. When my progesterone levels were headed in the wrong direction, we decided to supplement. I filled my progesterone prescription and began the supplements, preparing myself for about four weeks of this, since I could stop once my placenta had formed around 14 weeks. I was ten weeks along and my crazy hormonal anxiety was a daily struggle so we decided to have an ultrasound for some peace of mind. We celebrated as we heard a good strong heart beat but wondered why baby was much smaller than a normal ten week old baby in utero. Baby was only about eight weeks and four days old, based on measurements, but doing well. Long story short, we moved my due date a couple weeks later and praised the Lord that I had already started supplementing my progesterone when baby needed it most! While these were all good signs, I am ever the skeptic. I wavered back and forth between trusting God with whatever outcome He had planned for our family, and worrying that I couldn’t handle losing another baby. Every morning I would wake praying for the baby and every night I’d fall asleep praying for the baby. I tried to remind myself that the Lord alone sustains life and He wants me to pray for the desires of my heart. It was for this reason that we shared the news with a few people so they too could join us in praying. I prayed more consistently for one thing than I ever have: God, please preserve the life of this little one!

Three weeks passed and I needed to refill my progesterone prescription since the due date adjustment had thrown it off. I had slowly stopped regularly reminding myself about God’s trustworthiness and became increasingly fearful that I didn’t need this prescription refilled because baby was already gone. Sure, I had absolutely NO basis for the fear, but hormones! Not coincidentally, the week before my prescription was going to run out was the week that my husband was sermonizing (preparing to preach) for Sunday. During one particularly difficult day, I texted him asking for prayer and he responded that the passage he was studying said the phrase “fear not” three times. Lots of tears. How could I fear not when I had no guarantee of the outcome?? Oh, right, that’s kind of the whole point… Could I rest in perfect peace because I trust the God who wrote this story long before I was born? Did I believe He would be with me if we lost another baby? Did I believe He is still good if we had to say another premature goodbye? I called to schedule another ultrasound for the following Tuesday. When my husband preached that week, I had to fight hard to keep my shoulders still as I wept… IN CHURCH (gasp!)!! But I couldn’t hold it in. I knew God was telling ME not to fear. I could trust Him and His plans for me and this baby and I could make it to Tuesday before we got to actually see how baby was doing. This time the tears flowed when we heard that swishing, fast heart beat and watched our little peanut wiggle all over. We needed the refill! Baby was still alive and kicking and I was still an emotional mess of a hormonal pregnant mama.

After this ultrasound we decided it was time to tell the girls, which meant I needed to be ready for EVERYONE to know. But it would explain to our very observant Emma why mama’s belly seemed to be getting bigger (because let’s be real, baby #3 at nearly 12 weeks is hard to hide). These pictures are the girls’ reactions to the news (photo cred: Stephanie P).

All along I’d been convincing myself not to get my hopes up that we would have another biological child, but it was becoming harder and harder. I was starting to get excited. I was starting to think this might really happen. Talk about emotional roller coaster. My husband has dealt with so much of my up and down, back and forth, trust and fear, faithfully praying for me and our little one. He’s a keeper. In the weeks following this ultrasound, more people were made aware of our coming addition and were SO very excited. Honestly, I had a hard time dealing with the excitement of other people because all I could think every time someone beamed another “congratulations” at me was that it would be one more person who would have to deal with another loss, if that happened. Obviously this is connected to when we lost Josiah. Our whole church mourned and wept with us and came alongside us so well, but one of the biggest lessons I had to learn through that was to be willing to be the recipient of help and prayer and love. NOT my natural tendency. I’m a strong, smart, capable woman and I’VE GOT THIS. Psh. This time around I’ve been so hesitant to be excited that I think I’ve missed out on so much of the joy. I’m thankful that others have been excited from the day they found out, even if I was still fighting to believe it could really happen.

Once I made it to fourteen weeks and five days (the age Josiah was when he stopped growing), it felt like I was watching every second of the day tick by. My next midwife appointment wasn’t until I was sixteen weeks so I just had to wait and pray and hope and trust (like women have been doing for centuries!) that it would go well. I still had the image in my mind of the midwife searching for Josiah’s heartbeat on the Doppler when I was eighteen weeks along with him. She never found it and that was the start of me realizing that all the weird little things about his pregnancy were indicators that it wasn’t going well. This time the midwife searched briefly, found that heartbeat, and let me listen. To her, it was routine. To me, it was a miracle. This baby made it past Josiah’s age. This baby might actually live. I might start feeling this baby moving soon!

After this appointment, we could set up an ultrasound to find out the gender of our little one. Again, bad memories and difficult images were etched in my mind as we planned and went for this ultrasound. I’d been telling myself for months that I was probably having another girl because I probably can’t have boys. I’d even started telling my husband and others that I thought we were having another girl. I’d begun looking at baby girl names because we’ve had a whole list of boy names forever, but girl names always seemed hard for us to agree on. Imagine my shock when baby happily cooperated with the ultrasound technician and revealed a VERY different ultrasound than we’d previously seen! Before the tech revealed the gender both my husband and I looking at the ultrasound thought to ourselves “Wait a minute….. is that….. a…..?” BOY!!!!! Holy moly. That’s definitely a boy! We’re having another son!

I still can’t describe how I felt in that moment. Shocked? Amazed? Excited? All the emotions all at once? Alice and Emma both said they wanted a baby sister. They’d had Little Dude as their baby brother for 8 months now and were apparently ready for a change. Uh, sorry girls? We decided to buy some boy onesies for our July baby BOY and let the girls unwrap them to reveal his gender. I sort of expected Emma to say “NO!” and start wailing, but they were ridiculously sweet. They are SO excited to have a baby brother and just want him to hurry up and get here.

July is still four months away, so I don’t even know the end of this story yet! I feel like every day the Lord is challenging and convicting me and teaching me to relax and trust Him. The emotional roller coaster seems to be evening out (ish) and I’m feeling our little man wiggling around inside me every day. Sleep is getting harder as my body adjusts to this big belly, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything. All these things mean my boy is growing. We will meet him soon and it will be hard, but so so worth it.

One of my fears has been that I would put a son in the place of God. After praying that God would give us a son, being afraid to even want a son and then finding out we were going to have a son, another Isaiah sermon brought Isaiah 43:6 to my attention: “Because you are precious in my eyes, and honored, and I love you, I give men in return for you, peoples in exchange for your life.” In context, this verse is God speaking to the people of Israel, but the Sunday that we read it in church it hit me: God loves ME. He really, truly loves ME and has gone to great lengths to show me that He loves ME. I’ve been a Christian since I was sixteen and I’ve “known” this a long time, but over the years came to believe more in a God who wanted to judge me for my sins (which are many). As a sinner who deserves nothing, God sent His Son Jesus to die on the cross for my sins and then conquered Satan, sin and death by rising from the grave three days later. I’ve told myself for years that I don’t deserve any good thing in my life, but I think I missed a very essential aspect of God’s character in the meantime. The God I serve loves me enough to bring me through losing two babies, hear my heart’s desire when I was afraid to utter it to Him, and grant me that desire at the moment I least expected it. He spent YEARS patiently orchestrating events to teach me that He loves me and wants to give good gifts to me, as His child. In the weeks following this sermon, the Lord has continued reminding me that He loves me and that He has given me what I need for today to trust Him and love those around me. I still don’t know what the future holds, but I do know Who holds the future and I know He is faithful and good and trustworthy and He hears and knows and loves me. What more have I to fear? He has been my salvation and I cannot wait for the day when I see Jesus face to face in heaven. Oh what a day that will be!

Beauty from Ashes (Part 1)

It’s hard to know where to begin writing about something that has been in process for years, but since I process better through writing, I finally decided to write this all out. My purpose isn’t to glorify myself or our circumstances, but to point others to the Lord. He has so patiently met me and taught me in my weakest moments and revealed to me more and more of His character in this process. There’s some pretty raw stuff in here as I've sought to be open, but please understand that I am not glorifying my sin, or seeking approval from others. I’ve been talking more and more with other women and new moms lately, sharing parts of this story at times, and have felt convinced that I should share how God has worked in my life and what He has patiently taught me so others can love and serve Him better and know they aren't alone in their struggles. For those who take the time to read this (as it will likely be quite long), I hope it encourages you to seek the Lord and never give up asking Him for the desires of your heart. I hope it challenges you to lean on Him each and every day, knowing He is good and he never leaves or forsakes His children. I hope it reminds you that He is worthy of ALL of your trust and that it is good to fight to believe He is trustworthy. If you have no idea what I’m talking about, I hope this gets you thinking and wondering about the God I serve, the God of the Bible, Maker of Heaven and Earth and YOU and ME. He is not far off or distant and wants us to run to Him and know Him through His Word.

The story starts long before this, but I’ll begin with the birth of my first daughter: Alice. I had a very hard time bonding with her. I didn’t feel the immediate adoration that I’d heard of and thought I’d seen again and again in other moms. I felt lost, confused… pressure. I didn’t know what I was doing and I didn’t just “fall in love” with my daughter. I figured something must be wrong with ME for feeling this way and was too scared and prideful to let anyone into my whirlwind of a world. I pushed my church family away because I felt ashamed that I didn’t simply “get” motherhood. I pushed my husband away because he didn’t know how to help. I pushed God away for “making” me go back to work full-time when I clearly needed to figure out what I was doing. It was a rough start to parenting.

By the time Alice’s first birthday rolled around, I knew I was pregnant before I took the test. We were excited. I was scared. It felt like Emma’s first year of life I was constantly asking myself “WHAT DID I DO?!?” While bonding with Emma came a bit easier, largely due to feeling less guilty since I was home with our two girls, it certainly wasn’t easy having her plugged into the wall for the first week of her life as her tiny body fought jaundice. Those lights (baby spatulas, as we came to call them) were incredibly frustrating and disheartening and I wondered if I could really do this whole thing again when I already felt like a failure of a mother. Clearly I lacked something really motherly-important because these two beautiful girls God had entrusted to me felt like more of an inconvenience or disruption than a blessing or gift from Him. I just wanted to sleep! I just wanted my body back! I just wanted some quiet! Once again, I pushed God away and tried to muster up all the motherliness I possibly could.

Not surprisingly, I became the kind of mom I never wanted to be: easily frustrated, unhappy and often losing my temper and yelling at little people who had expectations placed on them that were beyond unrealistic. So when I found out I was pregnant for the third time, just after Emma’s second birthday, I wasn’t excited at all. I dreaded “how I could do this” and prayed that God would somehow work out all the obstacles that I saw in our lives before we could have three children. He answered my prayer, but certainly not the way I’d hoped or expected. Josiah Nathanael, our first son, quietly slipped away and met Jesus face to face long before we said goodbye. I watched my husband process by reading God’s Word so often that I wondered if he was really actually “processing” the grief. But I realized that he didn’t know what else to do, just like me, so he clung to the Lord. Blissfully aware of my bias, I’m sure my husband is one of the most amazing people I’ve ever met, but he’s not God. It hit me that I’d been putting God-sized expectations on my husband, when that was clearly never his role. So, he led me by quiet example and I quietly followed. Those days and weeks were a blur of tears and guilt and hiding myself under the shadow of the wings of my Great Comforter. I became determined not to push God away after loss when I had pushed Him away after blessings. Since I had no clue what to do with this “determination,” I read and listened to God’s Word a whole stinking lot. I focused on the promises that He hadn’t left me, He comforts and He gives us a future hope. I memorized and frequently recited to myself a handful of bible passages and prayed earnestly for another son. I so badly wanted to see the kind of little boy we would have and watch the man I adore raise a son to be just like him. Yet I saw myself as the “weak link” in our family. My husband loved our girls so well, right from the start, and here I was, ruining them. I also began thinking more and more about foster care, though wasn’t fully convinced I could do it.

As the year drew to a close, we did begin to seriously pray about fostering and started an initial application, only to find out weeks later that I was pregnant again, which brought foster certification to a screeching halt. After losing Josiah and having never “felt” pregnant with him, I was very sensitive to the lack of pregnancy symptoms this time around. I never felt sure this baby would live and was less surprised when my intuition proved correct. Baby #4 never got a name from us and never grew past six weeks. While this loss was less unexpected for me, it was much harder in some ways. Not many knew of this loss, so I felt more compelled to plaster a smile on my face and pretend everything was fine. I became convinced that our second loss was also a boy and maybe I couldn’t have boys. Maybe there really was something more “wrong” with me than I thought and I needed to focus on thanking God for the healthy girls He already gave me and pursue becoming a foster mom. As we processed through our grief and attempted to help our girls do the same, we talked and prayed more and more about fostering. It seemed like the question that constantly entered my mind was “why SHOULDN’T we foster?” instead of my previous “why SHOULD we foster?” Up to this point I’d thought we needed to have a special draw towards it, or have always wanted to do it. As we prayed and waited, the Lord was patiently teaching me that I wasn’t the “weak link” because He had already made me new through Jesus. God had provided a three-bedroom condo for us to rent at a price well below market value (with my very own WASHER AND DRYER!) and provided a minivan for us. He had plans and they weren’t finished. He continued growing me in my relationships with my girls and even now keeps reminding me that He gives me what I need each day, each hour, each minute… if I just ASK!

We pursued foster certification even as I wrestled with feeling as though I had somehow failed my husband by not giving him a son. And then I would feel guilty like somehow my girls were a consolation prize. How awful. Meanwhile those two girls were (and still are!) growing into caring, considerate, fun-loving, beautiful young ladies. I can’t imagine our family without my best little “helpers.” Yet, I still wrestled back and forth between feeling a failure and the guilt but was too afraid to continue asking God to give us a son. I thought maybe I could have another daughter, but we just needed to be content and thankful without a son. In hindsight, I think I was too afraid to ask God for a son because I didn’t believe He could be THAT good or THAT loving. After all, I’d known plenty of women who had struggled with infertility and prayed for years (some are still praying) for healing and a child. Here I was with two healthy girls, struggling to love them well, and discontent with the blessings God had given me. I believed God loved me, but didn’t owe me a single answered prayer, least of all for a son I would likely ruin!

After the summer, our foster certification process really began and we accepted our first short-term placement of a sibling set in April. It was NOT pretty. I realized then that we weren’t in a place to foster a sibling set, so we changed our profile to singletons. Our second placement only lasted eight days, but our third placement began just a few hours after #2 was reunified with his parents. Little Dude came to us June 15, 2016, one month before his first birthday and weighing in at 27 pounds. He had the longest eyelashes I’d ever seen and was a pretty easy-going baby from the start. However, his easy-going temperament didn’t change the wrestling in my heart. I found myself resenting him for being born. How ridiculous I feel just writing that! He and I have gone up and down on this roller coaster of grief and foster care unknowns. There were days, sometimes weeks, when getting through a day with him felt only barely possible.

During this time we began studying the book of Isaiah at church. It felt like every week we were talking about trusting God and every week I would cry and beg God to help me truly trust Him: most especially for our family and the number of children we would have, biological or adopted. Little Dude and I would have some good days and some bad days, but we were getting used to each other. Part of God’s working through the Isaiah series was regarding my attempt to control the timing of another possible pregnancy. The Lord kept challenging me that He was the one in control all along, no matter what I did that made me feel like I had set my plans in motion. So we stopped preventing pregnancy. Having gotten pregnant four times before without any issues or delays, I anticipated a positive test the very next month. How little I had learned about Who was really in control! Several months went by and each month, with every new sermon in Isaiah, I cried and prayed that I would trust God in the waiting and remember that He alone is the Author and Sustainer of life. Isaiah 26:3 grabbed my heart during this time: “You keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on you, because he trusts in you.” Oh, how I longed for that perfect peace! Yet here I was, anxious and wishing somehow I could just know what was ahead. Will I ever have another biological child? Will I be a failure of a wife that couldn’t have the four children we hoped and planned for?

Then October came. October has historically been a difficult month since I moved to California as I miss my formerly treasured autumns in New England, but now I mourn the loss of Josiah and his little brother or sister because they weren’t born that month. Coupled with the Isaiah series and a handful of other (perfectly orchestrated) events, I was so glad to finally enter November and put the emotional mess behind me. But that’s when we saw the positive test!

Speech Therapy

Alice is starting speech therapy classes this Wednesday, September 11. This came after her June 10 speech evaluation when we were told that she would more than likely be able to receive free speech therapy through California's public school system. We met with the two speech therapists last Wednesday, September 4, to go over her evaluation from June and learned that Alice was put in the highest of the four need-based categories: Profound. She qualifies for 45 minutes of therapy, one day a week for the next year, when she'll be re-evaluated. The therapist walking us through all the paperwork smiled and said "So, it's good that you brought her when you did!"

But I have to admit, that hopeful, look-on-the-bright-side attitude which she demonstrated was quite far from my thoughts at that moment. Inside my head looked a little more like...

"Is she going to be scarred for life? Why didn't I bring her in sooner? I've failed as a mother and she's only three! "

Andrew & I didn't get a chance to regroup after the meeting as he had to get to work, but his first reaction (as I found out when we talked that evening) was more like "There's nothing wrong with my daughter!"

Since then I've had more time to think and pray. This past week has been one of intense blessing as I've wrestled with the feelings mentioned above while noticing more than ever how quickly she's learning and growing. For example, she's really loving drawing and writing, especially her name. If you haven't seen it on Facebook, here's the picture I posted of Alice writing her name all by herself.

In addition to all this I've been reading a book called Give Them Grace: Dazzling your Kids with the Love of Jesus by by Elyse M. Fitzpatrick & Jessica Thompson. I've mentioned it before and, yes, I'm still reading it because I don't want to forget anything I'm reading in it! They talk about watching your kids to notice areas of strength and weakness in order to help them learn how to use their strengths well and improve in weak areas. I don't do justice to the wisdom they share, but it's got me thinking more along the lines of noticing things my girls do well and encouraging them. My tendency is to look at the weaknesses and blame myself for failing my children, rather than seeing that God has created them with exactly the strengths and weaknesses that He planned for them.

Also, it's really hard being a parent. Duh. But seriously, she's three years old and I really think I should be able to keep her "safe and warm" in my little bubble of mom-protection. God is teaching me that I can't fix everything for her, no matter how much I think I should be able to. Not to mention the fact that my "mom bubble" is only in my head. She's in God's hands and has been from the day she was just a tiny little embryo, even before that! God has entrusted her to Andrew and me and we are responsible for how we raise her and how we demonstrate the gospel to her. But it feels easier to think I can take care of her rather than trusting God to protect her or allow trials in her life that are exactly what He planned for her. I can't help but think of Job's response to his wife's lack of faith when they have experienced so much loss.

"But he said to her, 'You speak as one of the foolish women would speak. Shall we receive good from God, and shall we not receive evil?'" Job 2:10

This is not to say that I think Alice's need for speech therapy to be something "evil," but it does remind me that God is not surprised at her need. In fact, He has even blessed us with the opportunity to get free speech therapy for her.

So, perhaps, this is my first opportunity to learn that I can't keep my children from experiencing difficult things in life. Just think of what we have in store! Actually, I'd rather not. I'll just take one day at a time.

And then it hit me...

Alice is TWO AND A HALF YEARS OLD today. Her favorite thing lately is "Mama, play? Mama, play?" which means she wants me to chase her, let her get away, hide, wait for her to come looking for me and then jump out and scare her. Like really scare her. It's best if she thinks I'm in one place and then I catch her from behind. She freaks out and throws herself into my arms and says "Again?" Okay, in all honesty it sounds more like "Mama, pay?" and "Na?"

When we're driving somewhere Alice likes to point out all the vehicles she sees, and sounds genuinely surprised when she sees anything that she can tell me about (which is constantly). She says "Oh! White car! Oh! Green car! Oh! Orange truck! Oh! Blue bus!" This, however, also requires a trained ear because it sounds more like "Ah! Whitey daw! Ah! Deen daw! Ah! Ahn duh! Ah! Boo buh!" And I'd prefer this over the constant "Doh! Doh! Doh!" (translation: "Go! Go! Go!") every time I'm stopped at a red light. We're trying to explain that when the light is red we have to stop and wait patiently (read: QUIETLY) for it to turn green, at which point we may proceed. It's a process.

We've taken a step backwards in potty training. Up to the last month or so Alice would periodically get on the toilet herself. Now she screams like I'm causing her bodily harm if I try to... gasp... put her on the potty! So my brilliant attempt at moving away from this tonight was to offer stickers. I put one on her hand after she used the potty and then taped a piece of paper on the door for her to put another sticker on. Yeah, that was pretty much the end of the world. Tantrum galore. Once she finally calmed down I explained that the paper will stay there for her to put another sticker on when she uses the potty again. Another tantrum. Oi. Then came the book-reading distraction. So thankful that sometimes distractions still work on this girl.

Emma will be TEN months on Friday. She's still comfortably wearing her 6 month sized clothes. A few 3 month items still fit too. BUT, there are some 9 month sized clothes that don't completely drown her! She's quite petite. And I love it. I'm thankful that my first baby was on the "bigger" side so both Andrew & I could get used to a baby without worrying about breaking her. And I'm thankful that my second baby is on the "smaller" side because I'm not worried that I'm doing something wrong based on her size. She's just little.

But her size does not slow her down at all. She's constantly on the move, looking for something else to put in her mouth. Today she figured out how to climb up the stairs and then was laughing hysterically watching Alice go up and down ahead of her. So cute. Emma is really starting to enjoy watching and learning from her big sister. She also responds incredibly well to Alice's "hugs" which may be more accurately described as "tackles."

Pictures from the first half-ish of November here. This includes Emma's first time meeting Grandpa Bill & Mimi. So fun!

Tonight they enjoyed their second bath together in the big tub. Emma LOVES when Alice splashes and Alice loves that her own splashing encourages Emma to join in. Stark contrast to the usual Alice repeatedly wrenching toy after toy from Emma's grasp exclaiming "Mine!" and causing the most horrible wail to escape from an otherwise mild-tempered baby. Ah, motherhood. Wouldn't trade this for the world.

A Good Mother

This post brought tears to my eyes. What a gracious God we serve! Thankful that He strongest in my life when I acknowledge my weakness and rely on Him.

What's on the ground?

This morning when I woke up it was overcast. Oh. Yes. Water even fell from the sky. Sure, it was in very tiny mist-like droplets, but it was water. From the sky. Otherwise known as RAIN.

For this reason I decided to make comfort food for dinner: spaetzle (egg noodles) and lentil soup. So thankful for my spaetzle maker!

I intended to take a picture of my plate but I couldn't reach the camera from where I sat. And you just can't let spaetzle and lentil soup get cold. Maybe when I have the leftovers I'll take a picture. If I remember.

The past few nights we've been putting the girls to bed at the same time and it's been going fairly well. Before that I'd put Emma down and then Alice once Emma started quieting down. Inevitably Alice would be past tired when she finally made it to bed and Emma would wake up and re-start her before-bed-squealing. This then turned into a cycle of Alice screeching, Emma crying, Alice wailing, Emma banging her legs on the mattress, Alice sobbing. You get the idea. Not the most pleasant for anyone really. Tonight marks the third night in a row of girls getting to bed without excessive amounts of screaming. Just to clarify, the screaming comes from them, not Andrew & me. At least, not audible screaming from us...

I'm optimistic that we've turned over a new leaf (HA, get the autumn reference?!?) with the girls and they'll do much better sharing a room from here on out. I'm not being sarcastic.

The dishes are calling. You know what they're saying? "Where did the counter go?"

Ten Day Forecast

Shows NO temperatures in the 90s! In fact there are FOUR days with the high in the 70s. SO THANKFUL.

Lately I keep thinking that being a parent (especially of young children-since I don't know what it's like to be a parent of older children) is more about teaching me patience and consistency than it is about actually teaching my children anything. This isn't a new revelation, just back in my mind for the ba-zillionth time. Sure, I'd like to think that on some level they are learning obedience which will some day teach them how to be respectful to any authority God places over them; but really I'm realizing that I still have a long way to go in becoming Christ-like. A. Long. Way.

Why is it so hard to show people that I don't have it all together? What is it about appearing "in control" that is so important? In talking with other moms who are willing to be open about their own struggles, I have yet to find ANYONE who has it all together. There are days that go great, but everyone has those days that they want to pretend didn't happen. It could be the kids were absolute disasters, or it could be that I had a horrible (SINFUL) attitude and took it out on those I love most.

I don't know how to balance sharing my struggles in a productive, please-pray-for-me sort of way. I don't know how to say that it's hard and I fail and sometimes I don't like my kids without it sounding like complaining. I don't want people to feel like they have to tell me to "hang in there" (because, really, what does that even mean?) or "this too shall pass." If I'm honest with myself, I know it won't be like this forever. I want to be able to look back on these times with fondness rather than thinking "Phew! I made it!"

I want to be able to encourage others that are a few steps behind me in this raising-a-family business. I want to listen, really listen, when another young mom is sharing her own struggles. I want to tell her that I've been there and there is a way to please God in the midst of it. I want to remind her to find ways to be thankful and to dwell on the good things. It's way too easy to find things to complain about or make my life seem hardest or to think no one understands. In fact, my life is not the hardest and my God has abundantly blessed me and HE understands.

"No temptation has overtaken you that is not common to man. God is faithful, and he will not let you be tempted beyond your ability, but with the temptation he will also provide the way of escape, that you may be able to endure it" (1 Cor. 10:13).

Keep your life free from love of money, and be content with what you have, for he has said, “I will never leave you nor forsake you” (Heb. 13:5).

Huh?

All I can think of to write, as I listen to Emma screaming from her swing (so mommy can get a break from the screaming in her ear), is that I'm sure this isn't going to last forever. I'm also totally jealous of women who have easy babies. So far I'm two for two on the other end of the spectrum. Unfortunately, Emma makes me seem like a liar unless you're here from now (sometimes earlier!) until about 11PM. At least, this has been the pattern for the past three nights and many others interspersed in the weeks beforehand. Praying tonight I could maybe be in bed by 10PM. At the rate she's going, that's looking like wishful thinking.

I did just read a blog post which a friend of mine linked to that was an excellent reminder. It's here if you'd like to check it out (particularly if your kids have been less than perfect lately).

But, Emma is still crying and seems to persist in keeping mommy and daddy from getting sleep in the evening hours.

I'm. So. Tired.

Count Your Blessings

Emma is here. Actually, she's been here for three weeks today. It's gone by really fast, but at the same time I still wonder, "When will we sleep again?" I think all parents with new babies think this, so we are certainly no exception.

Normally we would have our community group Bible study meeting here in a little over an hour, but we cancelled it. Andrew started school last week and Alice & I are (still) sick. Needless to say, we could all use a bit of a break. Please pray for us! It's often hard to have a good attitude and remember that the Lord has a plan for all the challenges--especially when you haven't slept properly in quite a while.

I do want to say that I have a wonderful, patient, hard-working, self-sacrificing husband who challenges me every day with his diligence and love for the Lord and his wife and his two little girls. He's not perfect. He makes mistakes. He doesn't always say the "right" things, but he tries SO hard to love his sinful wife. I am blessed. I don't deserve him. Days like today are good days to remember how blessed I am.

Confident Parenting

Is there really such a thing? Are there really moments where a parent thinks "Hey, I'm doing a good job at this child-rearing thing"? It has happened, on occasion, that something I was attempting in the parenting realm actually worked. But my response is more one of surprise than of bolstering my confidence as a parent. Is it just a matter of finding the right method? Doesn't every doctor tell you that every child is different? Does that mean you have to change your method with each child? What if one method traumatizes my child? Is it all trial and error in hoping your child doesn't turn out to be a horrible person???

Now insert Christianity. I know that there are principles in the Bible regarding parenting. Not to mention the fact that the character traits that the Lord is developing in the lives of His children are also traits we can seek to instill in our children. But I'm pretty sure there's nothing in the Bible about potty training or weaning or introducing solid food or offering utensils at meals or getting rid of the bottle and using a sippy cup or whether you even DO use a sippy cup...

I've been blessed to watch several Christian couples seek to raise their family in a godly way. Mainly I've been observing from the "child" side of the equation, but in the last couple years my perspective has drastically changed. It's pretty amazing how the Lord works to change the PARENTS of the child as soon as that little one enters the world, but it's also a pretty sobering realization when there are two lines on that little at-home test (I think especially for the mom). More than once I've wondered, "Lord, are you sure I can do this?"

I love my daughter (soon-to-be daughterS) but, man, there are times when I just can't stand her. Thankfully those times are few and far between, and often related to the amount of sleep I've gotten--or haven't gotten. And even more thankfully, "The steadfast love of the LORD never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. 'The LORD is my portion,' says my soul, 'therefore I will hope in him'" (Lamentations 3:22-24).

After a particularly frustrating occasion with Alice, I found myself pondering all this, but the Lord brought to my mind the fact that He is MUCH bigger than any method that anyone advocates. He already has every day of Alice's life planned out and no amount of my sinfulness will thwart His plans for her. I pray that my parenting is a help, not a hindrance in her life. I pray for patience and perseverance with her in those challenging times. I pray that the examples of her daddy and mommy lead her fall on her knees before the Lord Jesus Christ and admit her sinful condition and need for Him to save her. What a privilege it is to be her mommy and bring these requests before a Heavenly Father who listens and cares and has the love and wisdom and power to accomplish that which we pray for.