The Real Postpartum

It was a long weekend with sickness still lingering. It hit my husband Saturday evening, after I had already prepared one of my favorite meals (lobster) and gluten free cupcakes for a belated birthday dinner with my loves.  I was already feeling worn down from lack of sleep and the let down that comes after the emotional high of Thursday's flood of birthday love.  (Tell me I'm not the only one who feels the blues of the day after a big to do?!)

Don't get me wrong.  I was grateful for all the good things that made Thursday such a wonderful day and I was genuinely sad for my sick kids and husband...but all I wanted to do was close the door on all the noise and chaos of every day living and sleep the uninterrupted and rest filled slumber I used to enjoy.  Because when my husband is sick, the entire mood of our household shifts.  After a long week of busy, the kids just want their daddy and it seemed as though I could do no right. 

Sunday morning, I woke to the sound of whining and arguing.  I rolled over growling and noticed the empty space where my husband should be.  It was too early to rise, but I must keep mommy-ing on, no matter how tired I am.  I stumbled downstairs to the sight of my husband sprawled in a sleep coma on the couch with an empty bucket on the floor beside him.  The kids were quiet again and I smiled when my daughter said she was serving her brothers a morning snack while they waited for breakfast. 

I tried to keep that smile going, but, come nap time, when the weariness settled in again and everyone was fighting my efforts to enjoy a few moments of quiet solitude in the afternoon, I was fading.  My husband suddenly woke from his slumber, well rested and finally feeling well again.  I grumbled at his cheery greeting and banned him to our bedroom so I could disinfect ALL THE THINGS.  I was so done with the endless sicknesses plaguing our home this winter. 

When supper was finally served and cleared and the kids were settling down for the night, I sat on the couch nursing our almost six month old.  I sighed as my milk let down and my body relaxed right along with her.  I browsed Instagram on my phone and came across this post:

Postpartum is full of hormones, little sleep, survival mode, and figuring out a million different things with our new babies (and possibly toddlers and teenagers on top of it). It’s trying to breastfeed, getting a groove back in your marriage or relationship, and our bodies taking time to heal. It’s a roller coaster ride that is personal and different to each person and family going through it, but is also similar enough that most of us can relate on some level.

LET’S TAKE BACK POSTPARTUM. We are mothers and strong women. Our collective voice is so powerful that we can shake the entire world.

As I read those words and browsed through the related posts flooding through, I thought about the yoga pants and maternity clothes I still donned almost six months postpartum and the days and days I go without showering and the fact that I can't remember the last time I slept well.  I was encouraged by the women sharing a peak into their own postpartum realities, so I snapped a photo of me and my littlest nursling and wrote these words...

Almost six months #postpartum with our #rainbowbaby and most days my wardrobe includes yoga pants, nursing tanks, and maternity tops. I have one pair of maternity jeans that fit for days I want to feel more "normal" and three sweater dresses/leggings outfits for dressy days. Five pregnancies in six years has permanently changed my body and, while I'm learning to love the curves and softness that helped me bring four babies earthside and one straight to the arms of Jesus, I'd be lying if I said I don't struggle to feel and believe this is real beauty. My husband teasingly tells me how he married me for my birthing hips and laughs as he uses my belly, still swollen and stretched out, as a pillow. "You're so soft..." he whispers and as he kisses all the stretch marks and curves I frown at each day, I know those three words are his way of calling me beautiful. If only I could get my heart to believe it. Because THIS, a nursing baby curled up on the softness of my postpartum belly, now sleeping peacefully with a full belly of milk my body made, is what beauty looks like. #breastfeedwithoutfear #takebackpostpartum 

I wasn't expecting the flood of responses to my post from other women saying "Yes! We get this!" and thanking me for writing the words they needed to read.  I wrote the words for myself first, only sharing because I felt compelled to join the movement to #takebackpostpartum.  I needed my heart to believe what my head already knew to be true.  Because even as I shared the words, my mind was reeling with negative self talk and I misinterpreted my husband's innocent words, snapping at him and storming off grumbling.  

When I finally calmed down and sat down quietly next to my husband, our boys snoring softly in their beds, I apologized again for the way my words were once again used for evil instead of good.  He looked at me tenderly and said, "Maybe you need to focus less on speaking kind words...and more on the thought process they come from."  

I sighed deeply, feeling freedom in the gentle words he had just spoken to my fragile heart.  It always amazes me how he can use few words to speak well such profound truths.  The real reason I was struggling to believe that my postpartum body was beautiful is the same reason I was struggling to speak kindly to my husband.  My thoughts were at war in my mind and I was letting the lies win.  

A friend shared these words with me later that night and it finally dawned on me that I needed to say goodbye once and for all to the person I was before kids and embrace the new me with all its extra baggage.  My body has been permanently changed as a mom...and, honestly, I'm glad it has.  

Before kids, I didn't know what it was to see my heart walking outside my body, to wake up in the middle of the night in a panic at the sound of a child's cries, to hold a feverish child close with tears running down my eyes wishing I could take their place, to laugh from the deepest part of my belly at the sound of a baby's first laughter, to feel my heart explode with more love than I ever knew possible...and I wouldn't want it any other way.  

I really can't imagine life without these four wrapped around my heart.  They have changed me for the better.  

And even though marriage is much harder after kids, it's also so much better.  How could I have known before kids that I would love my husband ten times more every time I see our kids run to him with arms wide open and watch him scoop them up into his arms with such tenderness?  How could I have known how much we would be beautifully stretched and challenged by walking this journey of parenthood together?  We are better and stronger than before we had kids.  

So maybe before I even look in the mirror or fall into the comparison trap or grumble at my husband's words, I need to let go of the lies and let the truth of who I am as a mom, a wife...and a child of God soak into every piece of my heart.  I began writing a series here called Whose I Am almost two years ago and I'm thinking I need a refresher.  I need to reread my own words and then dig into His words for more evidence of Whose I Am so my heart can finally believe what my head already knows. 

 

This Is My Brave

brave [breyv]
{verb} to meet or face courageously, to defy/challenge/dare,
{adjective}possessing or exhibiting courage or courageous endurance
{noun} a warrior
{synonyms}bold, daring, courageous, fearless, valiant, gallant in the face of danger or difficulties

I am not a risk taker.  I am a rule follower and I like staying in the safe zone.  I don't like stepping out in courage in the face of difficulties.  When struggles come, my first reaction is to hide and ignore.  I am not one to face a challenge head on.  I avoid conflict at all costs.

That definition of brave?  At first glance, I am far from it.  Fearless? Valiant? Courageous? Bold?  Who me???

Annie Downs writes in her newest book, Let's All Be Brave: "If we are each as unique as the Bible says we are, then our calls to courage are each equally unique...Courage looks different for each of us." Maybe brave for me isn't being a missionary in a far away country in the middle of no where.  What if, for me, brave simply means getting out of bed with a smile on my face ready to face the endless piles of laundry, never ending discipline, and overwhelming responsibilities of every day living with perseverance and purpose?

Sometimes brave simply means recognizing the beauty and value in who God made me to be and being confident of my calling, no matter what anyone else might say.  I know my children are a gift and I'm grateful for this life, but it's easy to get caught up in comparing and forget that what I am doing right here, right now matters.

So, when my littlest one starts to fuss, I put down my to do list and pick her up, even if all she wants is for me to hold her and talk to her while she smiles and coos.  Because the time and love I give her now matters.  And when the big kids beg me to read them a story for the millionth time, I do it with a grateful heart, because this is my purpose right here, right now.  This is my brave.  

Brave also means sharing my story, every hard and broken piece of it, and boldly testifying about all the ways God has used all of the bad for good.  It means letting down my guard and opening up my heart to a new friend, even when I'm scared of being hurt.  Someone, somewhere needs to know they are not alone and that God can make beauty out of any of our ashes.  Brave is recognizing His purpose in it all and the way He has never forgotten or forsaken me along the way.

Some days, being brave means hitting post or publish when the words on my heart need to be shared, no matter how terrified I might be of what others might think or say about me.  Or maybe it means sending a message, and email, or a text, or making that phone call I've been dreading.  Remember how I said I avoid conflict at all costs?  Yeah, being brave sometimes means facing those confrontations and speaking the truth in love.

So, when a mom I've only just met moments before hints at the broken pieces of her story that are so similar to my own, I ignore the schedule and noise around me and begin to open my own heart to her.  As I speak and our stories become intertwined, we both find our brave.  Just like Annie says, "You aren't headed out to find courage.  It's in you, it is blooming, and it is with you as you travel and say yes to things that seem scary."  This, right here - sharing my story and connecting with a new friend - this is my brave.  I hug this new found friend and, as we both walk back to our daily lives, I'm grateful, so grateful for the way God really does work all things together for good. 

My brave might not look like your brave, but that doesn't mean my brave is not brave.  The only one who gets to define my brave...is me.  God has placed a specific purpose and calling on each of our lives and sometimes the bravest moment is when we step forward and allow Him to finish the work He began in us.

*Disclaimer: This post was sponsored by Dayspring and inspired by their new line of Letterpress Blocks, but the words and stories are my own. 

 

Capture Your Grief: Now

 
I almost didn't open this page to write.  It was a long, sleepless night with a baby girl who was more fussy than usual and only wanted to be held.  I didn't crawl out of bed until almost 10:30, grateful for my husband who was entertaining the big kids downstairs so I could sleep but still weary eyed and exhausted. 

Needless to say, I've been tired all day.  And when I'm tired, my mind messes with me, anxious thoughts wreaking havoc on my heart and tears brimming over every little thing.  The dishwasher is broken and the dishes are piled high.  The carpet in the craft room is covered in broken egg shells from a certain toddler who thinks the garbage is a place to discover hidden treasures.  The laundry is spilling out of basket after basket waiting to be folded while piles of folded clothes are still piled high in the living room. I look around and all I see are messes and I kind of want to curl in a corner and hide from it all.  

I muster the energy to wash the dishes while the big kids giggle hysterically over nothing in their rooms and the littlest one coos and squirms around next to me.  Somehow cleaning, when I can zone out the rest of the noise and chaos around me, soothes and quiets my restless mind.  I feel refreshed staring at a clean sink and a pile of drying dishes.  I scoop up the littlest one who is beginning to fuss again and she relaxes in the curve of my shoulder while I quietly walk upstairs to check in on the big kids. 

As I walk upstairs, I smile and remember that all of this - the noise, the mess, the sleepless nights - are exactly what I've always wanted.  Even the hard moments are a gift, the sacred mundane found in embracing my calling and counting my blessings one by one. 

Sometimes I feel guilty when this motherhood journey is hard and I find myself crying over nothing and everything.  I know too many women who want this and I know I shouldn't take this for granted.  I would take sleepless nights over and over just to have our Hope here in my arms.  It's such a precarious balance between acknowledging the hard and embracing the gift of every moment, good and bad. 

Even as I finish writing this, my littlest one is fussing again, just moments after I laid her down after falling asleep nursing.  Part of me is exhausted from the endless demands of motherhood, but I know this is a gift and I really am grateful for this life.  So, I will scoop her up, kiss her cheeks, and hold her close again...and again...and again. 

 

Capture Your Grief: Before

For as long as I can remember, motherhood has been part of my dream.  As the oldest of five, I've always been a mommy at heart.  From the moment I first saw those tiny blue lines, the dream grew as I began to plan and prepare for the long awaited one whose tiny heart was already beating to the tune of her own dance.

I read every book, followed so many do's and don'ts, and counted down the days to my due date.  When the day came and went and two weeks later I was still swollen with child, I began to give up on my carefully laid out plans.  The moment I walked in those revolving hospital doors without even a single contraction just waiting for my doctor to coax our baby into the world is the moment I began to realize that life doesn't always go as planned.

I didn't realize how blindsided I would be for the storms brewing in our future.  After a long and difficult labor, our firstborn entered the world...and was quickly whisked away to the nursery before I even got to hold her in my arms.  I didn't even hear her cry and the only glimpse I caught of her was from a distance as the nurse carried her away.

She had swallowed so much meconium the doctors and nurses first thought she had developed pneumonia from the junk that caught in her tiny little lungs.  But, less than twelve hours after her arrival, when her tiny body began seizing, my world fell apart.  I could hardly breathe as I stared at the nurse and doctor hovering over her and I barely heard their words to us as I rushed back to my hospital room and collapsed on the floor as my already sore and aching body gave way to gut wrenching sobs.

We still don't know what exactly caused her seizures, but, after two weeks in a nearby NICU, she was miraculously healed.  We brought her home and tried to put those scary days behind us...until, just fourteen months later, our second born arrived three weeks early with premature lungs and was rushed to the same NICU.  We took him home one week later and everyone told me that all was now well.  I had two healthy babies and those traumatic experiences were buried deep in the past...

...except...I couldn't forget.  I fell into a depression that gave way to nearly debilitating anxiety after the death of my dear grandfather.  I realized that just like I needed to allow myself to grieve the loss of my grandfather, I needed to grieve the birth experiences I had wanted and process the emotions of their traumatic arrivals.  I spent over a year in counseling and when my youngest turned three, I was finally ready to welcome our third little one.

His birth was empowering and healing in so many ways.  I had thought my body was broken and hated the way I thought it had failed me before.  When the doctor laid him on my chest just moments after my body brought him into the world was a moment I'll never forget.  I held him close, only allowing him to leave my sight when the pediatrician arrived later that day to check him over and declare him healthy as can be.  Taking him home less than 48 hours after his arrival was something I never thought I'd experience.

Traumatic birth experiences and postpartum depression were hard enough, but I never thought I'd add baby loss to my story of motherhood.  While I was pregnant with my third, I watched two friends grieve the loss of babies gone too soon and I prayed with another dear friend whose unborn baby was so very sick.  I knew about baby loss, but I didn't know what it was like to have a child torn from your womb and to feel the ache of empty arms and broken dreams.  

When I stare at the photo of my first tiny baby bump, my firstborn just beginning to grow in my womb, I realize just how much I have also grown along the way.  The person I was before had no fears about pregnancy and birth except the discomfort of morning sickness and the expected pain of childbirth.  I didn't expect to be on this journey, but, then, who does?

I miss the innocence of that first pregnancy and the pure joy that knew nothing of trauma and loss.  There really is no "safe" zone.  Every moment is a gift and I cannot know what the future holds.  All I can do is rest in the security of a God who knows and goes before me.  He has never once left my side and He is always faithful, even in the storms.

 

When Motherhood Is Like Whack-A-Mole

 photo credit

These newborn days are hard. Just being a mom is hard enough, but multiplying it by four with two school age kids who have a love/hate relationship with each other...and apparently also with obedience, one almost "terrible two" year old toddler, and a nursing newborn is just plain exhausting most days. Some days I am ready to throw in the towel and call it quits. I know so many moms who say the same thing, but in the middle of the trenches and the heat of battle, I forget that I'm not alone in this. 

Last night was one of those moments. My husband left for a bike ride and I was finishing a haircut for my four year old. My toddler had begged for his first haircut too so both boys were covered in tiny hair trimmings. I decided they would both take a bath downstairs while my five year old insisted she take a bath upstairs. I thought for a moment that all was well as I sat down to nurse a hungry baby...until everything fell apart.

I don't even know exactly how it all went down, but by the time my hubby walked in the door, disaster had struck. In a matter of minutes the kids had made a flooded mess of both bathrooms, I had dinner half cooked and unattended on the stove, there were coloring supplies mixed with spilled milk all over the table...and I was sitting on the floor sobbing with a still hungry and restless baby crying in my arms while the three big kids ran wild in the house making as many messes and noise as possible.  

Later, when the battle had stilled both in our home and in me, I finally found words to speak my heart to my husband. He listened in the quiet of four sleeping kids. And as we talked, we both cleared the air of the cloud of chaos that came from so many changes. 

He told me how frustrated he was at work lately and described it like trying to play a game of Whack-A-Mole. Just when he gets one problem solved and settled, another one pops up and he's in a constant back and forth from one challenge to the next. 

"That's how I feel!" I declared as I practically leapt off the couch. It was exactly what I was battling but couldn't put into words. 

These days are spent holding onto that foam mallet waiting for that darn mole to pop up and just when I think I've succeeded in defeating him, he pops up from another hole. I can't ever seem to get ahead of the mountain of laundry and dishes and discipline and everyday chaos. I try and I try, but all I end up doing is punching out one "mole" only to discover a new one popping up. It's exhausting and overwhelming and all I want to do is quit because I just can't win. 

I've been studying the book of Hosea with the She Reads Truth ladies and the phrase He keeps whispering to me over and over is "return to Me".  When I started this study, I thought it would be good, but I didn't realize it would also be hard.  Hosea is the story of God's unrelenting pursuit of an unfaithful and undeserving people.  It's about Israel...but it's also about me.  

I am a hot mess - a tired, overwhelmed mom who loses it far more than I care to admit.  But none of that changes who He is.  I come broken to be mended, wounded to be healed desperate to be rescued, empty to be filled...and He welcomes me with open arms, just as I am.  Even when I fail, He is still there, relentlessly pursuing me.  God doesn't change, ever.  He sees my spiraling out of control mess...and He loves me still.  Where sin increases, His grace abounds all the more.  

So my prayer this morning, even as I sit here listening to sick kids coughing with a house that is far from clean and my body that is far from rested, is that He would come and create in me a clean heart, to give me rest from my heavy burdens, and that I would know His endless mercy and boundless grace.  From the pit of my own despair, He calls me gently and lovingly..."come to Me, just as you are, and I will give you rest..."   

 

Not On My Own Understanding

The days are growing longer, my body more weary by the day, as this littlest one stretches and outgrows my womb.  I'm ready for her to be here...and yet I'm not.

My mind wanders, as it usually does when I am physically tired and there are too many unknowns looming ahead.  I don't like this not knowing.  I want to plan, to know, to be prepared. 

But only God knows when and how this littlest one will arrive.  And sometimes, that truth is hard for this planner to swallow.

As my husband packed up the van Saturday morning to take our four year old mountain biking on some nearby trails, I tried to ignore the anxious thoughts crowding my mind by loading up the car with my firstborn and our not-so-much-a-baby-but-still-my-baby youngest son for a trip to the fabric store. 

I smiled at their silly banter and their smiles that always melt my heart...and then my four year old, usually the biggest comedian in our home, caught me so off guard with wisdom far beyond his years.

"Mommy! He's going to take care of you!" he said in a sing-song voice as he continued to bounce back and forth. 

"Who is?" I asked, completely surprised by a near serious statement from the mouth of my silliest son.

"God is!" he said with complete confidence. 

My anxious thoughts stilled and my heart grew calmer as I remembered the simplest truth that I too often forget.  Funny that it took my four year old to remind me of what I already knew...and how my own words to him the night before as he struggled to fall asleep were words I needed to hear myself.

The next day, still weary, and feeling the emotional toll of saying goodbye to dear friends, the anxious thoughts returned, stronger and harder than the day before.  I wept in my husband's arms, the tears coming deep and wide as I tried to put into words the turmoil in my soul. 

"Do you trust God to take care of our baby?" my husband whispered, holding my head up so I could look into his eyes and really hear his words. 

"Do you really trust Him?" he repeated, when I could barely make out a hesitant "yes" through the tears.

"Sometimes...I think I know in my head...but my heart is at war with my head." I said, as the storm began to calm and I realized the truth I was wrestling with all along. 

I say I believe He will take care of me, of my children, of our unborn baby, of every single one of our needs...but do I really trust Him? 

The closer we get to my due date, the more the memories flood: long, difficult labors, tears of frustration and defeat, monitors beeping and doctors whispering, my arms aching to hold our firstborn...our second-born, the waiting rooms and NICU stays, the sleepless nights filled with what ifs and fears beyond our control...the littlest one gone too quickly from my womb, the friends whose stories were far different than they had expected or hoped for, the babies missing from their mother's arms. 

Motherhood is never a guarantee, no matter how many milestones we pass.  I know too well how many ways "everything will be okay" has been one big fat lie. 

But I also know how many ways "God will take care of you" has always, always been the only truth I can cling too in a sea of unknowns.  Never once has He left my side.  Never once has He been surprised.  Never once has He given up on me.  Never once has He stopped loving, stopped caring, stopped working all things together for good.

As I lay in bed last night, He brought these words to mind, words I've heard and memorized over and over...but, somehow, they became more alive and real to me more than any other time in my life.

Trust in the LORD with all your heart,
and do not lean on your own understanding.
In all your ways acknowledge him,
and he will make straight your paths.

(Proverbs 3:5-6)

I held onto the second line of words for a moment longer as He whispered truth deep into my wayward heart: "do not lean on your own understanding".  There are so many things I don't understand...and yet I try.  I ponder and I wonder and I wrestle over and over in my mind...and still I don't understand.

I don't understand why there are so many messy pieces to my story.  I don't understand why it hasn't been easier.  I don't understand why some babies live...and some babies die.  I don't understand why storms happen and why He doesn't always calm the storms.  I don't understand why I wrestle with intense emotions and a heart that feels so deep and wide. 

His ways are far above my own and no matter how long I wrestle with understanding, I will never come close.   

For my thoughts are not your thoughts,
neither are your ways my ways, declares the Lord.
For as the heavens are higher than the earth,
so are my ways higher than your ways
and my thoughts than your thoughts.

(Isaiah 55:8-9)

And again, He reminds me:

Whoever trusts in his own mind is a fool,
but he who walks in wisdom will be delivered.

(Proverbs 28:26)

I'm a fool every time I listen to the anxious thoughts and allow them to consume me...but God never gives up on me and He's always there to take me back in His arms.  He has already given me far more than I deserve and when I simply rest in Him, no matter how much I want to wrestle with the unknowns and try to understand the "why's", He will deliver me from the prison of my own mind.  

And so, today, with mercies anew and grace that knows no bounds, I will rest in the One who knows far more than me and the One who has already proven faithful, time and time again.

You keep him in perfect peace
whose mind is stayed on you,
because he trusts in you.
Trust in the LORD forever,
for the LORD GOD is an everlasting rock.

(Isaiah 26:3-4) 

 

A Thousand Times His Mercy Remains

 
I woke up early this morning to the cries of my almost 6 year old, worried about her brother's beach ball going missing (?) and then a squirmy toddler crawling into bed and taking over...but instead of grumbling I remembered that I have a choice to make no matter what my circumstances are.

"It is easy to be cynical; it is brave to be joyful." - Joy Clarkson

So, I crawled out of bed, tip-toed downstairs, and opened up my prayer/devotion journal to begin my day the best way. And for the first time in weeks, I soaked up His words in a way that made me wonder why I ever allow myself to run on empty. 

It's easy for me to get caught up in all the ways I fail and resist His gentle whispers calling me to rest and find refuge in Him instead of trying to control my days.  But my circumstances and emotions don't define me and they never have to own me unless I allow them to. 

Sometimes the ability to choose and His gift of free will is overwhelming to me...because I know I will fail.  Even though I know the right thing to do, I don't always want to choose it.  Because sometimes doing what is right is hard...and doing what is wrong is easy. 

We are called to resist temptations and stand firm in our faith, but there are days it's just exhausting to keep fighting the battle in my own mind.  So, I give in and I make a mess of everything, yelling at my husband or my kids over something foolish that doesn't even really matter and picking battles over every little thing.  The anger and bitterness boils over and I find myself on a fast track to failure...again. 

The rest of the day, I walk around in silence, the anger and bitterness still lurking, but my own pride keeping me from humbly apologizing and admitting my own faults.  I beat myself up in my mind, but I can't bring myself to say the words out loud.  I know where I've failed, but I am afraid to own up to it and begin the hard work of repenting and renewing my mind once more. 

"A thousand times I've failed
Still your mercy remains
And should I stumble again
Still I'm caught in your grace"

- Hillsong's "From the Inside Out"

I know this truth.  I know His grace abounds and there is no end to His mercy...but I am my own worst enemy and I'm most afraid to bow my knee before a holy God and admit my own failures.

"Humbling ourselves to God under His hand is the next way to deliverance and exaltation; patience under His chastisements, and submission to His pleasure, repentance, prayer, and hope in His mercy, will engage His help and release in due time." 

- Matthew Henry commentary

I take a deep breath and make a choice, admitting through broken tears and words that stumble and fall in a mess from a place of deep regret.  My husband listens, taking my hands in his and reminding me of grace, forgiving me once more.

And then, this morning, I open His words and listen to His gentle whispers both convicting and encouraging me.  He knows my heart far better than I do and He knows how often I fail...but still His mercy remains. 

"It is the cross that bridges the gap between 

our hurts and disappointments, brokenness and God's perfect love." 

- Sally Clarkson

Today, as the sun rises and my children awake from their slumber, filling our home again with noise and chaos, I ask Him to draw nearer, allowing me to walk in the shadow of His wings instead of in my own weakness.  I will choose humble praise and heartfelt gratitude and allow Him to renew my mind and heart once more. 

 

On Being Brave

It was a perfect summer day...wind blowing through the trees, sun shining bright, summer foods prepared and ready to enjoy, family gathered round...and a big swimming pool looming in the background.

As a kid, I spent my summer days in my swimsuit, splishing and splashing around with my brothers and sisters in our own backyard paradise.  We'd dry off just long enough for lunch and then jump right back in as soon as our food had settled in our bellies.  My dad would join us when he came home from work and we would laugh as we taught him what we learned in swimming lessons and he would put on his swimming goggles and ear plugs and try to copy what we demonstrated.

Sometimes my mom would join us too, especially when my dad was swimming with us, because she somehow didn't trust his lifeguarding skills enough.  He was much more a kid than an adult when he dove in that pool.  Other times, she would watch and smile and photograph our silly summer fun.  She never appeared uncomfortable or afraid to put on her swimsuit and join us.

When my body started to grow and change, shedding my carefree childhood days for the confusing and uncomfortable transition as a preteen, putting on a swimsuit became a daily battle.  I'd squeeze into that itty bitty swimsuit and try not to cry as I looked at my reflection in the mirror.

Swimsuit shopping was even worse, because finding a swimsuit that fit my ever changing body and was also cute and comfortable became nearly impossible.  I'd fight back tears as I tried on swimsuit after swimsuit, wishing with everything in me that I could fit into the cute two pieces, but resigning myself to the not as fashionable and often boring one piece swimsuits...because at least they covered my not so flat belly and the stretch marks that had already begun to appear.  

Still, I pressed on and I put on that swimsuit anyways, walking outside with a towel covering me until I could quickly throw it off and jump in the pool before anyone noticed how uncomfortable I really was.  Because the moment my feet hit the water and I joined my family for another day of swimming fun I forgot about the too tight swimsuit and my tears of frustration at the way my body was changing and growing.  The water became freeing as I dove under and swam around, laughing and joining in on the water games my family made up as we splished and splashed along.

So, years later, when my firstborn begged me to take her into the big swimming pool on that perfect summer day, I knew I had a choice to make.  I could continue to allow the negative self talk to ruin my summer and miss out on a chance to create a lasting memory...or I could take a deep breath, squeeze into that swimsuit, and jump into the water with a smile as I reached out my arms for my daughter to jump in with me.

Someone told me later that day that I was so brave for joining my kids in the pool while the rest of the moms sat and watched.  I didn't think I was very brave, because there was still a battle raging in my mind.  But the more I allowed the water to free me from those thoughts that weighed me down and the longer I stared at my daughter's smile and my son's carefree laughter, the more I realized that those thoughts don't have to own me.  

This body I'm living in may not be perfect, but perfection doesn't equal beauty.  Beauty is found in the way my body has grown and changed to carry life, the way a smile on my face can chase away any dark clouds, the way my children's faces light up when I embrace the moments with them that are far too quickly slipping away, the way my words can build up and encourage others, the way I can choose to live as a beloved child of a gracious God instead of a prisoner to this imperfect flesh.

Long after we had dried off and changed back into our clothes, my kids couldn't stop beaming about how they got to swim in the big pool with mommy.  If I had allowed the negative thoughts to own me, I would have missed that opportunity to see my daughter swim across the pool with only a noodle to keep her afloat saying "I'm swimming, mommy!  I'm swimming!"...or to see my son giggle as I held him tight and he kicked his feet to swim from one side to the other.

 my mother in law snapped this photo and I'm so glad she did...

a moment frozen in time that I'll not soon forget

And someday, when each of my children begin to shed their carefree childhood days and their bodies start to grow and change in ways that confuse and frustrate, I want them to remember how their mommy jumped in that water, stretch marks, imperfections, and all.  I want them to know that beauty isn't about skin and bones, but about life and love and embracing the gifts that each day brings.  


*Thank you to Jessica of The Mom Creative for inspiring me to make the choice to put on my swimsuit and embrace the joy of the moment.  I'm so glad I didn't allow those negative thoughts to own me.  These photos, those smiles, and the memories frozen in time were so worth it.

 

Product Review: U-NEEKS by Dayspring

I've long been a fan of Dayspring products, because, besides being well made and beautiful, they display bible verses and truths that are so meaningful.  They also have so many great sales and deals throughout the year to entice this frugal mommy to purchase from their website often for birthday gifts and Christmas.  I have a few products in my own home that I love, like this beautiful tabletop advent devotional, a few of their beautiful mugs, and this beautiful purse and makeup bag from their Redeemed line, along with tons of cards, journals, and notepads that I purchase often through their Heart Connection Card Club.  And, of course, I have an ongoing wishlist of products I would love to use and display in our home. 

When I first heard about their new line of U-Neeks products, I was intrigued and I was excited for the opportunity to review a few of these fun products with the kids.  Here is what Dayspring has to say about them:

God has made each one of us different on purpose.  In the Bible ( Psalm 139:14 ) we are reminded that we are “fearfully and wonderfully made” by God, each U-Neek in our own way.  That is what this cast of characters is all about, reminding and encouraging us in a fun, random, sometimes weird and innocently strange way.

My oldest two were really excited to pick out their own U-Neeks character along with a fun coloring book and I picked out this pillow plush character for our toddler to enjoy.  I always love how quickly and efficiently Dayspring delivers their online orders - the package was at our door within a few days of placing the order and the kids eagerly tore it open with me.  They carried their little U-Neeks characters around the house for the rest of the day and now they hold a prominent place on their beds. 

The Allie Bird pillow plush character is the perfect size for our toddler's bed and he often curls up next to it or with his head resting on it just like a pillow.  It makes me smile to see him sleeping so peacefully with this soft, cute, and comfy pillow.  I love that the back displays this message: "I Am U-Neek, Psalm 139:14".  I want my children to always know that each of their lives have a precious and beautiful purpose, because they were fearfully and wonderfully made by their heavenly Father.  I can only imagine how this fun little pillow character will spark conversations with him as he grows. 

The smaller plush characters that our oldest two picked out came with a fun tag that shared a few fun facts about what makes their character "U-Neek" along with a bible verse.  My almost six year old picked out Jazzmine, whose life verse comes from Philippians 4:8 - "Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things." This is a verse I find myself drawn to often and one I hope to share and memorize with my daughter as she grows and discovers who she is in a world that would love to fill her mind with so much junk.  Instead, I want her to know and learn, right along with me, how to fix our thoughts on the things that really matter and on the One who will guide us to the abundant life. 

My four year old picked out Indigo, whose life verse comes from Romans 12:2 - "Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that by testing you may discern what is the will of God, what is good and acceptable and perfect."  This is another verse that is so important to know and hold in our hearts in a world filled with temptations.  I hope and pray that each of my children would learn to discern what is right from what is wrong and that both my husband and I would have the wisdom to raise them well in the knowledge of the Lord.  I so appreciate that this line of "U-Neek" characters will help to spark these conversations with our kids and I look forward to sharing more with them as they grow. 

We haven't had a chance to use the coloring books yet, because I have yet to purchase the Color Wonder markers.  The pages are filled with fun bible verses and pictures to color that I know the kids will love.  Plus, I'm sure they will also spark many good learning opportunities for our kids.  

The entire line of U-Neeks products can also be found at Hobby Lobby or Walmart, making them even easier to purchase for your family.  These U-Neeks encouragement cards would make a great back to school purchase to use in lunch boxes and these party cups would be fun party favors for a birthday party or other celebration.  You can also take advantage of Dayspring's customer appreciation sale using code THANKS25 to get 25% off when you purchase through their website, plus shipping is free with any $50 purchase. 

*Disclosure: Dayspring provided these U-Neek products free of charge in exchange for my honest review.



 

Throwback Thursday: Hold Hands

I took a break from this the past few weeks, but today I'm sharing another old blog post from the archives.  Sometimes I need to be reminded of my own words and I hope they will be an encouragement to others too.
  

***

Hold Hands

(blog post from  September 2013 originally shared here)

 


It was one of those mornings.

I heard the alarm go off far too early and, as my brain tried to come out of the fog of another sleepless night, I hit snooze, not once, but three times.  

The little one stirred next to me and, before I could force my sleep-heavy eyes open, he was full on wailing. 

I nursed him back to sleep and let the steaming waters of the shower wash me over with fresh strength for the day, but all I wanted to do was sleep.

I grumbled and worried as I struggled to wake the rest of the weary bodies in our home.  They mumbled their own pleas for more rest and then whined and complained their ways through a hurried breakfast. 

We made it out the door, by some miracle, with only ten minutes to spare before school started...only to remember half way there that it was PICTURE DAY.

We turned back for home and, with the boys still buckled in their car seats, I quickly pulled out the messy ponytail in my daughter's hair and rushed to curl it enough to be presentable for pictures.

I started to breath again, until my daughter started screaming when the curling iron brushed against her neck.

Horrified, I grabbed an ice pack and held her close, telling her over and over how sorry I was, wishing right then and there I could rewind time.

After finally dropping her off at school late and feeling my heart break when she refused to hug me goodbye, I cried all the way home and sent my husband a distressed text message.

"Sorry babe. Pretty sure you're not a bad mom," he reminded me, but I still wasn't convinced, so I wrote a distressed facebook post, wondering if there were any other moms out there who had been in my shoes.

Because the hard days always feel lonely until you reach out for help.  

This time, help came in the form of comment after comment from other moms and friends who know me well.  Their comments were like virtual hands reaching out to hold mine and remind me to breathe in grace.  

Even on the days when I make a mess of mothering, grace and love really do cover a multitude of messes. 

My husband was right.  I may not be perfect, but the hard days don't make me a bad mom.

No, it's a good mom who picks up the broken pieces, holds out her hand to wipe away the tears on her child's face, and covers every mistake in an all consuming, never ending love that takes her breath away.

It's a good mom who doesn't give up, but stands firm even in the storms, holding onto the One whose grace and love is more than enough.

It's a good mom who knows that she isn't enough without Him whose strength is everything she needs.

And, most importantly, it's a good mom who remembers how His mercies are new moment by moment and, instead of looking back, she continues to move forward...

...one step at a time. 


 

A Letter to Our Rainbow Baby

To my sweet littlest one, still tucked safely inside my womb, growing and moving more with each new day,

How can I put in to words just how much you mean to me...to us?  I want you to always know how your story began, even though some of the pieces are hard to say or write.  Because there's so much power in sharing our stories and there's beauty even in the broken pieces. 

And you, precious one, are already so beautiful. 

Your story took me by surprise, my heart still grieving the one gone too soon from my womb.  I will always miss her, even though she was only here for eight short weeks, because she is woven into the fabric of our family and she cannot be forgotten.  We named her Hope and I like to imagine that the two of you would have been someday holding hands and running through life together, the best of friends and the closest of companions. 

Some people have told me you wouldn't be here if we hadn't lost her, but I just can't grasp that as reality.  Our Hope was very much loved and wanted...just as much as you.  I wonder often if she was still here...would we be missing you without knowing it?  Or would our story have still included you, just without the storm and tears and loss?  I don't know and sometimes the hard to understand pieces of our stories hurt so much.

The only way to make sense of any of it is to rest, burdens laid down and let go at the feet of the only One who knows and understands all our yesterdays, todays, and tomorrows.  He is the One who formed you and knit you together in my womb, long before we even knew you were here.  It was almost nine weeks before we saw two tiny blue lines that announced your coming arrival, but already He was writing your story.  He goes before and behind, hemming you in on all sides, and, even when it doesn't make sense, He is still good, so very good. 

Because He knew we needed you before we even knew we did.  I cried a mix of joy and fear when I saw those tiny blue lines.  I was afraid to lose you too, afraid to love too much because sometimes love hurts.  But I couldn't stop myself, no matter how hard I tried.  My love for you, without even seeing your face and long before I first felt your tiny kicks, simply takes my breath away.  You are a part of me and no matter how your story unfolds, you will always be my daughter and I will always be your mother. 

My body is stretching as your body grows and we laugh at the way your kicks already bounce across my belly, moving your daddy's hand or the book resting gently on my lap.  We wonder what you will look like and we imagine what it will be like to have your tiny fingers wrapped around our own.  We are secretly calling you by name already in our home, your name falling so sweetly off the lips of your big sister and two big brothers who are so excited to meet you. 

Our bedroom is piled high with clothes carefully washed and folded and waiting to wrap you in the warmth of a love that surprises us still.  There are diapers and blankets and toys and gifts already chosen or carefully pieced together just for you.  There are five of us here and one awaiting us in heaven, but still you are our missing piece.  No one can ever replace you...and you are far from a replacement for the one we will always be missing.  You are loved and wanted and cherished already just for being you.

So, you see, dear one, your story is complicated and messy already, but still there is beauty.  You are our rainbow after the storm, a reminder of the faithfulness and promises of a God who is never surprised and never forsakes.  He brought you here for such a time as this and He has a unique and wonderful purpose for your life.  I want you to remember where you came from and how your story began so you can chase away whatever doubts or fears may come, knowing that He has already written all the days set before you and He is good always and in all ways.

And always I want you to know that you are loved and our family needs you, just as you are.

I love you, little one.


 

Book Review: Mom's Night Out

I was barely five pages into the novelization of Mom's Night Out and already I was both laughing out loud and nodding my head vigorously in agreement as I wrote the words "Yes. THIS!" in the margin.  I considered reading out loud to my confused husband, but t would have only confused him more...and I might have resorted to crying because it's so hard to explain to him what this motherhood journey really feels like.

The fact that the opening scene took place on Mother's Day and I began reading the book after my own Mother's Day failure was not lost on me; it merely validated my own struggles and reminded me that I'm not alone.  I wanted to reach through the pages and hug Allyson, because I could have written these words myself...

"I love my kids.  I love my husband, my minivan.  My minivan is awesome.  I have this incredible life, so why do I feel this way?"

And then, this...

"The house was cleaner today, yes, but nothing was fixed.  It would just get dirty again tomorrow.  The kids would get out of control again tomorrow.  Life tomorrow would be the safe as life today.  More work.  More noise.  More stress.  Is this what life had come to?"

The truth is: I've been there, wondering how I'm accomplishing anything worthwhile in the midst of all the day in and day out, endless cleaning and diaper changes and discipline.  And some days I still wonder.  It's a breath of fresh air to read pages of a book based on a movie that not only validates what my days are like, but reminds me that it's both okay and good.

"I doubt the Good Lord made a mistake giving your kiddos the mama He did.  So just be...you.  He'll take care of the rest." 

Mom's Night Out is not just a sappy, feel good book though.  It is rolling on the floor, nearly peeing your pants funny.  Laughter is so good for the soul and this book delivered plenty of soul satisfying laughter. 

While the storyline often seemed too ridiculous and far fetched to be realistic, sometimes that's actually the reality of life as a stay at home mom.  Too often, at the end of another long day, I will give my husband a play by play of my day and stare at him with a mix of bewilderment and frustration because you really can't make this stuff up. 

I was so captured by the novelization that I immediately set up my own mom's night out to see the movie.  I was really impressed with how well the novelization complemented the movie and how well the author captured the characters through her words.  This is definitely a book I'll be sharing with my mommy friends and I may even read it again whenever I need a good dose of laughter. 

***

I love that the novelization of Mom's Night Out was also paired with a devotional written by Kerri Pomarolli.  As I began reading Mom's Night Out and Other Things I Miss...Devotions to Help You Survive, I was immediately drawn in by the author's conversational writing style.  It was like I was sitting across from her as we both sipped our coffee with hair disheveled and eyes weary from another tough day of mothering just to hear each other say "It's okay.  I'm here.  And I understand." 

Each devotion includes a glimpse into author Kerri Pomarolli's own motherhood journey as well as an encouragement to get your feet back on solid ground with the One who knows every tear and failure of every day.  The devotions end with a prayer that reminds the reader that constant communication with Him is the best survival tool, even when your words are few. 

These words drew me in right away, as I've battled my own fears and doubts, and they are words I know I'll find myself repeating often: "Lord, I stand on Your promises in my life.  I rebuke doubt and fear and believe that what You say is true.  I will not quit 'pushing' for all that You have for me and my family. Amen."

This is a book that will remain on my bedside table so I can pick it up on the hard days and be reminded I'm not alone and that when I am weak, He is strong. 


Disclosure: I received free copies of both books from Litfuse Publicity Group in exchange for my honest review. 

 

Book Review: Tiny Blue Lines

Everyone has a story to share, but it takes courage to write your story and share it with the world.  There is so much power in taking that brave step, though, because you never know who will be encouraged or impacted by your story.  There will always be critics though, as Chaunie Brusie found when she first began to share her story.  But instead of allowing the critics to silence her or bring her down, she became even more confident that the world needed to hear her story. 

When I first read Chaunie's blog, I was immediately captured by both her honest vulnerability and the way she found humor in the trying moments of motherhood.  It didn't take long to know that her story didn't begin the way she expected, but she never cowered in a corner hiding it.  Instead, she took a stand for young moms everywhere facing unplanned pregnancy. 

"Through my story, and the stories of so many other mothers like me, I hope you will learn that you are not alone, that there is no 'right' way to get through a planned or unplanned pregnancy as a young mom.  Most of all, I want you to know that you can succeed as a mother, as a student, and as a professional." 

Chaunie's blog became the launching pad for her dream of being a writer and it's been so exciting to see her dream become a reality in the form of a beautiful book, Tiny Blue Lines.  This book is her story, but it's also the story of so many moms who feel ashamed and alone and forgotten. 

I nearly cried when Chaunie wrote about the day she stood next to another expectant mom at church whose baby was a surprise after years of infertility.  People began to crowd around the older mom and congratulate her on her miracle baby...all while either ignoring or casting judging glances at Chaunie's already growing belly.  

"It was hard to overcome the thought that my baby should have never happened...Who would be happy about a college student getting pregnant? The consensus around me seemed to be that this baby was, if not a downright mistake, at the very least, certainly bad timing." 

I know I'm guilty of casting judgement on someone else without knowing their story and their heart, but the truth is we all fall short.  Regardless of how a mom's story begins, a baby is never a mistake and should always be celebrated.  There's a song that says "they will know we are Christians by our love", so what does it say about me if I heap judgement and hurt filled words on a young mom who already feels so guilty and alone?  

"The simple fact of the matter was that I was a normal, Christian young woman who had made a mistake.  We all make mistakes and we all sin...What I did need was help in accepting my pregnancy and believing that it could be a good thing.  What I didn't need was people reminding me that I had sinned, or reminding me to 'think of the baby' or long, rambling lectures on the preciousness of life."

Even though our stories began in different ways, we are both moms who desperately love our children and we both need the same love and support to carry us through the hard days of motherhood.  I have no doubt that Chaunie's story will make a lasting impact on many young moms facing unplanned pregnancy...but I also believe that her story will challenge all of us to leave behind our judging glances and condemning words and instead pour words of love and encouragement over every mom, no matter how her story began. 


Disclaimer: I received a free book in exchange for my review, but these are my honest thoughts and opinions about a book I truly enjoyed reading and am more than happy to share here.
 

Throwback Thursday: Through A Crack In The Door

Today and every Thursday, I am re-posting an old blog post from the archives and sometimes even an old writing piece I've never shared publicly before.  Sometimes I need to be reminded of my own words and I hope they will be an encouragement to others too.

***

Through A Crack In The Door

(blog post from February 2013 originally shared here)

I hear her breathing, softly in and out.  She is four going on fourteen and I just want time to slow down or stand still in the here and now.

In the quiet of the night, I imagine her story.  It unfolds in whispers of a girl become woman, dancing to her own beat, waltzing through life with a love heart that loves so deep and strong it hurts.

She is like me and yet she is not.  She is my heart beating outside my own body, invisible ties forever binding our lives together.

As I listen and wonder, I hear the creek and squeak of her bed.  She cracks the door open and peeks out, one eye still hidden behind the door, the other peering deep into my own.  It's as if she is searching my soul, trying to figure me out at the same time she wants to know and understand her own heart and soul.

"I so scared..." she whispers.  And with arms open wide and heart wider, I welcome her into the arms of a mother's love that knows no end.  I whisper to her fears the same way God whispers to my own.

"It's okay, sweetie.  You don't need to be afraid."

And as I speak to her heart, I speak even louder to my own.  I can feel fear knocking at the door of my soul, but I don't have to open that door.

I am not my fears and they are not me.

I have a choice to make: to be afraid or not.  And as I ponder this truth I remember:

She watches me closely and wants to be like mommy.  My entire life is on display for this one searching for a truth to hold onto and grow into.

What truth will she see in me to mirror and live?


 

My Ode To Motherhood: How My Story Surprises Me Still

Tiny blue lines

One moment changed everything

My body ached and grew

As our hearts, too, ached and grew

For one tiny new life 

The one we always wanted

Who surprised us still

Two weeks overdue and she arrived

Face blue, tiny body shaking 

Expectant joy turned to hopeless fear

So many what ifs and what nows

We prayed and pleaded and waited

For the one we always wanted

Who surprised us once more

We planned and we prepared

We checked off lists and we read books

But we didn't expect this

The waiting rooms and machines beeping

With one sick baby girl

And two hearts breaking

Two weeks later and the sun returns

We walk out those doors one last time

Her bundled up in her car seat

And our hearts mending

Heading home as two become three

It's what we always wanted

But still we are surprised

Six months later and another set of tiny blue lines

We celebrate and we wait and we wonder

How our hearts can make room for more

And why I still feel so broken

When all I ever wanted

Still catches me by surprise

Three weeks early, our three becomes four

His tiny lungs struggle and again we wait

In the same room, with the same machines

The tears fall at another unexpected bend

And the road we walk becomes more uncertain

Until one week more and we make our way home

A family of four, healthy but still broken

I ache and I break 

And I fall so hard I don't know where I am

His arms reach into my darkness

The man who said "I do"

In sickness and in health

In good times and in bad

And together we find the way out

To healing and wholeness

And a beautiful mess that took us by surprise

Three years later, two little feet more

Waltz into our home and never stop moving

He laughs and we mend

And I wonder at His perfect timing

And His good gifts that surprise me still

Then one year and one little life more

We rejoice and we praise

The One who gives...

And the One who takes away

As these tiny blue lines begin to fade

And our Hope is born 

Straight into His arms

We grieve the story we never expected

 And the little one we always wanted

Two months later, the grief still fresh

And two tiny blue lines more

We wait with breaths held deep

And hearts still unsure

Trusting and praying and resting

In a peace we don't understand

And a God who knows

I smile as tiny feet kick and move

As my womb stretches and grows

And I count gifts, one little moment at a time

Because I know every unexpected and unknown

That took me by surprise

And landed me here

A mother of four, soon to be five

Arms still aching and empty 

For the one missing

But filled to overflowing 

With the three still here

And the one littlest surprise

We never expected at all