Happiness

“There’s just no accounting for happiness,

or the way it turns up like a prodigal

who comes back to the dust at your feet

having squandered a fortune far away.

And how can you not forgive?

You make a feast in honor of what

was lost, and take from its place the finest

garment, which you saved for an occasion

you could not imagine, and you weep night and day

to know that you were not abandoned,

that happiness saved its most extreme form

for you alone.”

                                                                ~Jane Kenyon

Sometimes, I find myself in a position or place where words seem insufficient. Not capable of fully explaining or enlightening the listener. Not even adequate enough for my own thoughts to wrap around. In so many ways, this is where I’ve found myself- today, last week, for the last 3 months.

So to say that this is happiness, feels almost too hollow as a description. To see a beating heart, to watch kicking feet, to hear a heartrate that emanates from the deepest part of my being yet isn’t my own… It’s like coming up for a breath of air after being under the water for too long, like falling into a peaceful sleep after nights of restless insomnia.  

I feel like I almost need to write this backwards-- from now back to August when we first learned that we were with life again. I wanted to write in previous weeks, needed to really; but I just couldn’t. In some ways, the last three months have passed with incredible speed, but in other ways they’ve dragged on, turning hours into days. There have been days of deepest peace and rejoicing and there have been days where the fear of this precious life silently slipping away is so intense it is almost palpable. God has been faithful to  grow me, to rescue me from myself and my own thoughts in these waiting days, to speak love over me when I have felt most alone. And I will write about it. I have a lot to remember. Things I need to remember….but not today. Today I will write the easy things and the happy things only.

Really when I wrote this post the other week I should’ve said what I’ve really been doing is pouring all of my energy into growing this baby. In all three of my pregnancies, it’s like I can feel my body working overtime to provide life. This pregnancy has been so much like Abi Kate’s that if she weren’t standing in front of me day after day, I’d be certain I was carrying her…

Back in August, I woke up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom and while walking from the bed to the bathroom, I realized I was very nauseated. My first thought was, “No! I don’t want to be sick!” (Seriously I HATE being stomach sick. I always feel like my life is ending with a stomach virus.) I went back to bed and forgot about it until the next night, when I woke up to go to the bathroom (am I the only person that has to pee in the middle of the night always?!) and I was nauseated again. Tommy swears I got in bed that night and woke him up and told him to pray over me because I was getting sick. I have zero recollection of this event. However, considering my typical dramatic response to stomach viruses, this sounds pretty legit. ;)  When this happened the third night in a row, coupled with several of the other signs I have prior to a positive pregnancy test, I had a pretty strong feeling that we were pregnant. Much like before, we weren’t trying to get pregnant nor were we preventing pregnancy. But sure enough a day later…..

Happy tears and excitement and disbelief accompanied this little test. Funny how a 15 dollar piece of plastic can have that effect on you :) 

I’ve never been sick that early in pregnancy, definitely not before I’m even 4 weeks.  However, I started off sick in this pregnancy, and it has been a comforting friend for me. At 6 weeks, it really kicked into high gear. I’ve stayed nauseated or vomiting for essentially the entire day, every day until the last few days. I didn’t think I could be more sick than I was with Abi Kate. I stand corrected. ;) It has, however, been good for me and helped me keep my thoughts in a good place, so I’ve been deeply thankful. The first two or three weeks were not as difficult and because I have a VERY busy toddler, I couldn’t think about it too much. However, once I became plastered to the couch (seriously, I think there’s an indention), being a stay-at-home mom become much more difficult. Thankfully, we’ve had family and friends nearby who have taken her to help me. At week 6, Abi Kate started saying, “It’s ok, Momma” every time I’d run to the bathroom. Around week 8, that changed to, “She fine.” Like, she didn’t even need to check on me or comfort me at this point. And at week 13, she walked into the bathroom (while I sat on the side of the tub to recouperate) and she leaned her head over the toilet, bobbing it up and down, acting like she was throwing up… lovely. I’ve encouraged bulimia!

I’ve had to change some things to accommodate my needs… I’ve missed church and small group several times, haven’t done much “fun stuff” with Abi Kate during the week… A lot of times, I can hold myself together while we’re in public, mind over matter, though I typically pay dearly for that once I’m home (or in the car)… So, we’ve stuck to the bare minimum of outings each week. She’s watched more TV in the last few weeks than she’s watched in her entire life combined. I took a month off of cloth-diapering and she’s been in disposables almost full-time, and not even the “whole wheat” kind, just plain old Pampers. Most of her meals have taken place on a towel on the floor of the living room instead of in the kitchen, because I can’t be around food and stand that long without being sick…I’ve felt like a turd about most of this, but it’s what life has demanded, and it is just for a season (one that I’m so thankful for).  If this continues like Abi Kate’s pregnancy, the sickness will never completely leave, but it will get much better in a few more weeks.Because the sickness has helped me feel like things are progressing, I haven’t let myself try the few natural alternatives I’d planned on. Now, that we’re in the second trimester, I might change my mind on that…maybe ;)

So much of these past few weeks ties into a future post about this journey, but a few of these things are  contributors to happiness. Before each appointment, my heart has been so fearful, fearful of what we wouldn’t find or wouldn’t see. So minutes before each appointment, Tommy has held my hand and prayed. Each appointment has felt like this huge climax, the determining factor of my future.  At 8 weeks, when I saw the little heart flickering on the ultrasound machine, tears spilled over. But I also no longer rest in the results of an ultrasound being a predictor of a healthy future, so there was relief only in that moment, gratefulness that I had seen this baby wiggle and live inside of me. At 11 weeks, thirty minutes before our midwife arrived, I felt that same familiar fear. So, we prayed. She held the Doppler against me and searched for a heartbeat, and while she could heart placental sounds and cord sounds that indicated a heartrate that differed from my own, she  couldn’t find heartvalve sounds. I could never adequately describe how I felt in those moments…. All I could think was “11 weeks and it’s happening again.” Praise God for her sensitivity. She offered to listen again but then said, “I can just go grab my ultrasound machine out of my car?” And as she plugged it in and connected cords I will never forget what she said, “We are going to find a healthy baby in Jesus’ name.” It took everything in me not to sob on my couch over her expression of faith for our baby. The screen was tiny and it was an older machine, so we just had to wait to see if baby moved…. And sure enough, I saw our baby hop and then begin kicking its little legs all over and deepest relief washed over me. (As with Abi Kate, my placenta is anterior, making it much more difficult to hear fetal heart tones in early pregnancy.) A few days later, I felt our baby move inside me for the first time. And finally at 14 weeks I again felt deep fear, certain that all the soft kicks and movements I’ve felt were created in my mind. So again, Tommy prayed for peace and for life. And we heard the sound I’d been praying for, hundreds of times a day, a constant whisper from my heart to the Throne room. And our midwife held my hand and said, “Katie, that’s your baby.” All of the fear and excitement and thankfulness poured out, and she kept the Doppler over that spot, letting us listen to that sweet sound while I laid there and cried. We’ve met with two midwives throughout this process, both women of deep faith in Christ and in the birthing process, and they have reconfirmed in my heart why I love the midwifery model of care so much and why it has been so important to me to have faith-driven care providers in pregnancy. Both rejoiced with us and reminded us they’d be praying for our baby’s health whenever we contacted them about the pregnancy, both have understood my deep need for the confirmation of life in this pregnancy, and both have celebrated with us, thanking the God that we serve for His faithfulness.  

I would love to say that the fears have left, but that’s just not the truth. It still crosses my mind multiple times a day, and I believe it probably will for awhile. But I am also thankful to celebrate this life out loud, thankful for every day that I hang out near a toilet, thankful to grab my maternity jeans, thankful for soft movements that assure me, thankful to God for knitting this baby together within, and thankful for feeling deep happiness inside of pregnancy again.

And because you should be left with a little happy yourself-- remember the terrible, horrible,no good very bad thing? That happened while I was pregnant. Nauseated. Capable of smelling things 8 miles away. (And that story just got 10 times worse….)

Catchin' Up

It's only been almost two months since I last blogged.... and only 3, 4, something months since I updated about Abi Kate. I have this little five year journal for her that has space to write one line a day about their progress--one thing a day for five years. During her first year, I did so great. And then, I stopped doing so great.....and I feel sure that in five years I will want to punch myself in the face for doing the worst job ever in recording these moments... So here's what we've been doing in this long absence...

We've been Zoo-ing with friends...

Finding & playing with the most inappropriate things 

(at this point there was an entire trail of a variety of feminine products from our living room to our back bathroom... Have no fear, if you spontaneously start anywhere in our house, we've got you covered.)

Juicin' with Daddy-- 

Every night when he walks in she immediately runs to the cabinet where we keep the juicer and says, "Want juice!" I've never seen a kid crave juiced collard greens like her... keep it up sister, you're 18 steps ahead of your Momma. 

Pumpkin Patchin'-

Here she said, "Cow want treat?? Cow shew shew! Cow stink!"

 "I wash pig" 

 Digging for potatoes

Can I please reiterate how much HARDER it is to take a picture of a running toddler? Seriously, we got almost zero quality pics of her smiling. So brutal. 

 Save me!

 Yes, she took a bite out of her pumpkin. I believe, "I no like" followed that bite.

Just plain growin' up--

A week or two ago she stopped calling Tommy "Dada" and started calling him "Daddy" (actually "Da-ee") She's called us Momma and Dada for so long that it just didn't occur to me that she'd eventually stop that... Sad face. 

And basically one word to sum up the last few months of toddlerhood-- Whew. Her first year was definitely light years easier than this year has been, but she also does so many things that are intentional and fun now that it all balances. She keeps us busy and makes us laugh. She started saying her first sentences at the end of 17 months/beginning of 18 months, and for a while they all revolved around one subject-- the dogs. She LOVES the dogs. (Thank the Lord because they have earned themselves a place on my "black list" at the moment.) She still prefers to speak in mostly short phrases instead of complete sentences. And we definitely need to work on girlfriend's grammar and use of possessives ;) ex. "This is Nora tail." or  "Layla is dink water."  But it's still sweet to hear her have complete thoughts. 

She started expressing interest in letters about a month ago, so I sat down with a few of my tactile foam letters just to play and give her some experience (thank you, Kindergarten materials). I was all excited with child development ideas in place and feeling like I was about to play the teacher role again....She already knew half of the letters in the alphabet. It felt kinda like a slap in the face- like, "Momma, please. Your observation skills are as good as your documenting skills. Next." And even worse, I'm pretty sure I have "Super Why" to credit for this knowledge. Sheesh...  

And just to leave you with a nice, embarrassing story (because the last one wasn't enough, obviously)... Abi Kate has had this affinity for finding the most inappropriate things to play with (as shown earlier) since she was about 14 months old. She also finds things that we didn't even know existed inside our house. I have found all manner of things on our living room floor, right out in the open for company to view, things that you'd prefer them NOT to encounter when they walk in-- you know, like a stack of condoms or a pregnancy test. This past Sunday, we were running late, as usual. I ran on into Kid's Worship to help lead and Tommy took Abi Kate to the nursery. Right before dropping her off, he happened to look in her diaper bag and noticed a bottle of something-- namely a bottle of 4 year old KY, and NOT the kind that would make you think "Oh that's just for boo boos or thermometers". Abi Kate LOVES carrying bags around the house and tossing things into them...And of all the bags and all the objects, these were her choices?!  Dear Lord, I'm SO glad he saw it before the nursery workers did. Can you imagine?!? So basically, he walked around with a bottle of lubricant in his pocket all during worship. And during Sunday School, I opened up my  purse and found a condom. Nice, Abi. Obviously, no one should examine the contents of our bags or they'd think Tommy and I can't stay off each other-- even at church. Clearly, we need to double up on the baby-proofing in this house... and we need to throw stuff away (like the 4 year old bottle of lube). I hope you're laughing and you're welcome. 

She's growing up and we're just trying to keep up... that's what we've been doing. :) 

 

The Terrible Horrible No Good Very Bad Thing

I almost didn’t write this, because well…. it’s gross and pretty random. But I have this friend. And if you know this friend, then you fully understand her sense of humor and why she would deem this “blog worthy” and if you’d read her funny text messages regarding this ‘incident’ you would probably laugh. Actually if you’d read the texts coming from several of my friends while this occurred you might’ve wet your pants. It was a close call for me. 

I shared this story with my BFF as she was lost in a scary part of Chicago, where she was relatively certain she’d just seen a child prostitute. We struggled to determine which experience was worse. (No, not really, all you unfunny people) There are no pictures of this experience, just words. You’ll just have to forgive me/thank me later. That said….

We had a good weekend. Tommy had to work a lot, but I enjoyed a lot of time with Abi Kate, just the two of us. Sunday was busy and filled with church and then a visit to Mimi and Papa’s house that evening (though really, the cats are giving you guys a run for your money in terms of whose most important…). I was going to the zoo early the next morning with one of my best friends and her little girls. My gas light had come on as we’d driven to my parents’ from church that night. I went back and forth about stopping for gas because I was tired. I just wanted to go home and put on comfy clothes and lay on the couch. But, at the last minute, I figured it would save me time in the morning (in which I would SURELY be rushed). So, I pulled into the gas station about a mile down from our house. This. Was. A. Mistake.

I pulled into Pump #1. Another mistake. Tommy ran in to get a drink and to pay for gas, saying he’d be right back to pump. I said, “No. I can pump gas. I’ll just use the debit card. It’ll be faster that way. Don’t worry about it.” Third mistake. So he runs in and I hop out. As I make my way over to the card swiper, I get the sense of something out of the corner of my eye. And dear LORD I’m so glad I caught it. I look down and my foot is literally an inch away from a brown pile of mush. I think, “Nooo. That can’t be….” And look beside it to see another pile. And sweet Lord in heaven why did I begin to bend down to make sure I was looking at what I thought I was?!?! (I made SO many mistakes this night but this might’ve been my worst). And well, let’s just say I come face to face with human excrement at least three times a day, courtesy of the toddler in my house. And there was NO DOUBT what this was. Except, this was no kid poop. Oh no. And as I looked a little further down, what did I see, but a wipe… what looked to be an Armor-All wipe. I think I screamed something like, “OH MY SOUL! Savages!!!!” and flew back into my car. I am unashamed to admit that I silently hoped that the chemicals from that wipe were tearing up the culprit’s rear end… I literally tore into another spot as fast as I could, hoping that Abi Kate wasn’t scarred for life (like I am now). I was so befuddled that I pulled into a spot with my gas tank on the other side. This was about the time that Tommy strolled back outside…. And was like, “Honey, what are you doing? That’s not going to work.” I’m relatively certain I screamed, “SOMEONE TOOK A DUMPAT THE PUMP!”  I know I looked like I was in complete hysterics. It is because I was. In the moment I felt like we were having this odd communication failure. Like he wasn’t quite understanding the severity of this.  He was so chill at about the whole thing. Like it’s the most natural thing in the world to poop wherever. On The Ground. In Public. WHERE PEOPLE (namely me!) STEP! And God love his heart because his first response besides just plain calm was, “You didn’t step in it did you?” (Because God is a gracious God, I did not step in that terrible horrible no good very bad thing. I do not care how much I love those Yellow Box flip flops. They would’ve been in the trash faster than a flea on a dog.) Tommy is still being calm and cavalier about this and I really just think it’s because he didn’t have to see/smell the very bad thing. There are some things you just can’t come back from-- like being face to face with a stranger’s dump. I told him he had to go inside and tell the gas station attendant, and he was like “Nah. It’s ok. It’ll just go away.” WHAT?!  Trust me. I do poop all day. It doesn’t just go away. Anyway, he went on inside to talk to this man. And honestly, there is an entire back story about this particular gas station and particular station attendant that involves our first married Thanksgiving together and an uncomfortable holiday invitation, but I will skip all of that. And also please know that I am not even slightly aiming to be politically correct here, so if my geographical clumping offends you, feel free to go drive to Pump #1 and I promise the sight there will offend you wwwaaayy more than my stereotypical language. The attendant is Middle Eastern and doesn’t speak great English. Tommy walked in and told him, “Dude. Somebody took a dump at pump #1” to which this man replies smiling, “Oh yes. This good? Yeah?” Clearly, friend is NOT getting the picture. Tommy’s reponse, “No. Not good. Took. A. Dump” as he mimicks pulling down his pants… (This alone kept me laughing for a good hour). Meanwhile, I am texting this entire scenario to 3 friends and every one of them said the same thing at first, “OMG! WHO WOULD DO THAT?!” Who indeed.

We drove home and it became slightly less mortifying and more funny. Slightly.

 We put Abi Kate in some jammies, and she took off running to her new favorite place (I’d like to suggest that it is her "safe place" and she was recovering just like her Momma from the terrible horrible no good very bad thing. I cannot be the only one scarred from this). She loves hiding behind her glider and reading books. We told her she could have 5 minutes to read, and I went to our bedroom to change into my comfy clothes. I mean really, that’s all I wanted ALL ALONG. I turned on the monitor out of habit and what do I hear, but her reading this story to herself. “Oh No! Blue!” If you’ve read Pete the Cat: I Love My White Shoes, you’ll understand…

I snuck in to watch her… and felt slightly redeemed. Like maybe the poo was just a bad dream….

All’s well that ends well, right?!

 Please note that my gas light came on this morning as I was driving down the same road. I weighed my options. As I passed the scary place where “it” happened, I glanced at pump #1. There. Are. Stains. Oh yes. I may never be the same again. 

In Which This is Saving My Life Right Now

I came across this blog a few weeks ago. The concept of it and the words filled me up. Maybe because my life saving moment was similar to the original poster’s. Or maybe because she quoted the song that has lived in my heart the last 4 weeks, making my soul move to its rhythm and breathe in its words. Or maybe because her writing elicited a deep emotional response in me as most things seem to do these days. For whatever reason, her urge for her readers to consider and write out their own life saving moments stuck with me….

“And we know that God works all things together for good, for those who are called according to His purpose” Romans 8:28  This verse. The verse I have known for so many years, have quoted so many times. It is saving me. So many times a day, over and over again. The things that happen in this life, they are not always good. This world that we live in, it is coming undone. Even creation, as it groans and waits for redemption, groaning as with the pains of childbirth. I know that pain intimately. Those deep, guttural groans as you wait for the close. The brokenness of this world can and does flow into our lives. Into my life. I have struggled and wrestled for almost three months, working out my faith with literal fear and physical trembling. And in the last 10 days, this verse is what has been laid on my heart, over and over again by the Spirit. The brokenness that happens in our lives as a result of sin entering the world so long ago-- that is not good. But the work the Spirit completes in us through those hard events-- THAT is the good. And oh, how sweet that realization has been. The reminder that God brings life through death. It is the gospel pattern playing out in my life. The bitter death we tasted in May, it was the antithesis of good. But the life He has brought to us through that death, the deepening of our faith, solidifying our rest in Him-- it is so good. Sitting in class on Sunday morning, hearing this message repeated again after hearing it whispered all week in my heart-- it was confirmation for me. This verse, the gospel that persists past salvation, bringing me into a deeper understanding of the rescuing love of Jesus… it is literally saving my life right now.

And these quiet moments with my daughter. Nursing her in the quiet of the morning. Sleepy eyes and her daddy’s long lashes. The war I have waged against myself, certain that my body is broken when I was once so confident in my body’s design-- these moments with her undo that lie. No broken body could carry such a healthy baby, could so efficiently birth her with gentleness. No broken body could produce such a precious intelligent child. No broken body could literally sustain her life and health for so long…18 and a half months. In these moments, I am completely certain of my divine design. In these moments, there are no questions. I am completely confident in my decision and my capabilities. She is completely certain of me in these moments-- there are no judgments of my character, no “helpful” words or intrusive statements. There is just us, giving everything I can to benefit her.  And in these quiet moments with her, fewer and far between these days, the Spirit speaks love over me… He created my inmost being…I am fearfully and wonderfully made. This body, His creation, it is not broken. It was knit together  in His perfection. And as I nurse my sweet girl, the enemy’s lies simply fall to the wayside, exposed as the deceptions they are. These moments with her, however much longer they last, they are saving my life right now.

These two things, tangible and intangible, calling me outside of myself and into the heart of the Father...

You are all glorious. My heart leans in. My soul must sing. You are all glorious.

Where Peace Abides

Life has been loud for me lately. From the ongoings of our world to the opinions of others. My thoughts have been loud. My heart has been unsettled. Even social media has had a lot of volume. (I’m not suggesting anything people should post and not post. Your page, your choice. It’s just, overall, been loud). Sometimes even the things that aren’t said, actions left undone-they have shouted through the silence. And honestly, I am exhausted. Worn down from over analyzing, emotionally spent from thinking and feeling, and craving deep solitude.  I’ve found myself in a new place in life, and in this new place I literally hunger for the peace of Christ. It is a good place, this new season. It’s been filled with more challenges than ever before but the victories have tasted sweeter than ever before. 

I have such a tendency to dwell. To linger. To toil over people, circumstances, and situations that I have no control over. It’s usually unprofitable for me, causing me only to despair and not leaving me with much more clarity than I entered with. So, I’ve found myself choosing to settle my thoughts on the beauty and sweet moments in this life. It’s not that I don’t continue to struggle to bring my thoughts and emotions under control. I do. Thankfulness has simply offered me rest in the moment. It has reminded me to take captive every thought & make it obedient to Christ.

So while the noise around me has continued, I’ve found the quiet in gratefulness for:

• The sound of toddler feet running through my house
• Hearts that are responsive to the Spirit’s leading
• The tender reminder from a friend that God does remember me
• Holistic healing
• Finding myself still hemmed in by the patient love of those who have suffered well with me
• Relaxing naps
• Easy days
• Shopping for girly fall clothes
• Really good coffee
• Forgiveness & restored relationship
• Celebrating the sweet lives of friends’ children
• Days spent with Tommy at home
• Friendships that pick up where they left off
• Hearing “Tank too, Momma” multiple times a day (aka Thank you, Momma)
• The gospel poured out over my life
• Family that loves and doesn’t divide
• Sharing life with others
• Good worship music courtesy of my sister
• The knowledge that what is fractured will one day be made completely new & right as Heaven comes to earth
• Late night conversations on the couch
• The life-giving power of Scripture
• Watching my little girl enjoy the company of others
• The anticipation of Fall’s arrival
• Having a husband who is rooted in the assurance of good things in our lives

Big things and small things. Some important and some not, yet all equally capable of providing reprieve and solace. As I walk through these days, I hope this is where I choose to dwell….in the quiet, where peace abides. 

In This Village

“It takes a village.” A group of people. A network of friends and family. An abundance of love. I’ve spent the last week or so reflecting on the people in our life-- family, friends, acquaintances, the people we’ve deemed ‘family ’ by choice. I’ve thought about their presence in our lives in the last two months as we’ve walked through dark days. I’ve thought about their constancy to check in with us, just one more time, to make sure we’re doing ok. But today, I’ve found myself thinking about their importance to Abi Kate.

She is 18 months old today. At this time a year and a half ago, I was snuggling her up and breathing her in, completely overwhelmed by the fact that she had arrived. The months passed and Tommy & I learned parenting and all its complexities. We loved her more deeply as time raced on-- and we were not alone.

We, of course, love Abi Kate unyieldingly. The sacrifice and dedication to her life flows easily from Tommy& I because she is ours-- an extension of us as individuals and as a united couple. But to see other people love her in that way…. It truly fills my heart with such gratitude and unrelenting tenderness. It has been so unexpected for me that others, even our friends, would love her enough to care about her well-being.

When I’m out of the room and walk back in to see you playing with her, even when your own children are with you-- I notice. 

When you hug her and tell her you’ve missed seeing her-- I notice. 

When you gently correct her because you care about her heart and her character-- I notice. 

When you  take time to listen to what she’s saying-- I notice. 

When you bring her little gifts-- I notice. 

When she is genuinely excited to see you-- I notice. 

When you ask me to bring her along too-- I notice.

 When you point out the ways she is changing and growing-- I notice.

I notice your sacrifice. I harbor an endless amount of appreciation for you.

It has literally stopped me in my tracks so many times… that my friends who have their OWN children to love and adore, would take the time to love my child as well. I am so deeply humbled by that expression of care. In the same manner, when I see my friends who do not have their own children yet, come alongside us and love her-- ask how she is, ask to see her, hold her and embrace her… I again find myself feeling so unworthy of that, yet desperately grateful that they would share part of themselves with her. Even without being parents yourselves, you all have known how to love her so well.

I want her to experience the authority of others. I want her to be taught and loved by others, so that she will learn different viewpoints and understand this life with greater depth. I want her to see the character traits that I lack inside other people that share life with us, so that she will adapt those traits. I want her to see how other believers live and love this broken world so that she might do it too. And if she is surrounded, not just by Tommy and me, but by all these other incredibly selfless people then maybe she will have the best parts of all of us.

I am so grateful that we have not walked these last 18 months alone. If you have invested in Abi Kate, have loved her, have hugged her, have shown her grace, have said encouraging words to her… If you have helped us raise her and helped us love her, if you have made our child your child in any sense…. Thank you. Thank you for being a part of this village. There are so many of you but not enough words or tears to explain the importance and value it is in my heart. We are indebted to your kindness and benevolent acts of love. 

“It takes a village to raise a child.” Today, I am so thankful- as parents and for our daughter-- for the village we have found ourselves in. 

Baby Mine

There were so many things that I was thrilled about when the ultrasound technician revealed that we were having a baby girl. SO many things….

I’m feminine and girly. I love makeup and dresses. Sparkles and shopping. Dangly earrings and painted nails. I just like these things and always have (despite my lack of time/energy invested in them these days). I know it’s the new fad to have ungirly things for your girl. I’ve heard more people and read more articles that talk about having less pink in their girl’s rooms, less girly clothing, gender neutral toys… and that’s fine if that’s your thing. It really is. Not everyone is ultra girly.  And I know pink is just a stereotyped color for girls, but guess what? I love it. And I love baby girl nurseries that are pink. So my sweet little girl has a bright pink nursery. I love things that scream “girl” be it a cultural stereotype or not, so she has always worn big bows. I do not care if they are as big as her head. She makes them look good. And the day that I have been awaiting these last 17 months has arrived…..

She’s found her babies. And she loves them. It’s never really been a question of if she’d play with babies in this house, but simply when.

I know all about what child development says regarding toys, interests, and their impact on gender. I read enough textbooks and listened to enough lectures in college to understand. And on the whole, I do not disagree. If Abi Kate wants to play with trucks-- have at it! If she thinks playing in the mud with army men is the best thing ever, I’m game for that too.  I’m not about stifling her interests into a stereotypical box. BUT… as long as little girl feet walk the floors in this house, there will be babies too.

I loved my baby dolls growing up. They had names and baby clothes, and I regularly begged my mom to buy me packs of “real” baby diapers so I could put them on my dolls. I loved toting them around and rocking them, pretending to feed them. I just loved babies. I loved pretending to be a mother.

And do you know that at 17 months old, I watch my sweet baby girl nurture her soft little baby? She picks it up and carries it around and sways with her baby. And yes, she grabs it by the neck (Dear Lord. We’re working on it…) and she thinks it’s so much better naked (maybe she’s practicing for a future in Elimination Communication?) and she will throw her baby down on the ground in a heartbeat for a piece of cheese (Can you really blame her?!) . But there is a tenderness about her when she loves on her babies.  You can guarantee that I am going to nurture that and cultivate it.

 Naked baby syndrome.

The hardcore feminists would probably be on fire while reading this post, assured that I’m raising my baby girl up to be “just a mother” and pushing stereotypical gender assignments on her. That’s ok. I know better. Without getting into a big long post, I think feminists of the past and today missed the boat quite a bit when establishing themselves and their ideals. I am passionate about womanhood, and all things related to women. It’s why I’m opinionated about pregnancy and birth, breastfeeding and Natural Family Planning. Because they pertain to women--to educating and empowering women in experiences and roles that are solely female.

There is nothing more feminine, more celebratory of womanhood than finding yourself in the role of mother. It is exclusively female. Carrying a baby, feeling them move, feeding a child from your own body, nurturing them in a way that only a mother can-- it is something that only women can do. Being a mother-- it is for women. That’s why we hear talk and research about maternal instincts-- they are real-- no matter how we entered into motherhood, whether scared or assured, through adoption or biological birth.  And I hope Abi Kate learns that in our home. That God’s design of women is beautiful and a high calling. I hope she recognizes that choosing motherhood doesn’t make you less of a woman but instead it celebrates sacrifice, God-given instincts, and helps us understand Divine love. I hope she sees in me that motherhood is a gift and a treasure worth searching for.

 Babywearing with morning hair..wowza

So there will be babies in this house. We will play with them, and hold them, rock them and feed them. Be they naked or clothed. We will push strollers and wear them in slings (Please, I just can’t die to my babywearing-self…) We will play “momma” and love up some baby dolls. We will do all these things with bows in our hair and possibly dirt under our nails. We will enjoy all things feminine, stereotypical or not, because I’ve watched my little girl in these days… and I can already see what a sweet little momma she will one day be. 

Safety first--Visible and chewable kissable