Thankful, Not Guilty

"I'm about to collapse," I told him. "My body is just so tired!" My husband dutifully took our daughter from me and ordered me to bed. "Let me take her and you go sleep," he told me. I trudged back to the bedroom feeling relieved, but also feeling guilty. Wasn't it my job to take care of her? Am I a failure as a mother because I can't handle this stage of hers?

You see, the last couple of weeks, Leah has been draining my energy (in a good way, of course) and hasn't been going to bed before 11:30. Well, I'm ready to call it quits around 10:00, but she just doesn't want to go to sleep. So the past week or so, I've been leaving her with Mitch and he will put her to sleep later while I catch up on sleep earlier.

I felt a little guilty. The title of "full-time stay-at-home mom" was weighing heavily on my shoulders. I felt that if I showed any weakness or allowed myself to "indulge" in an extra hour of sleep (be it needed or not) that I wasn't doing my job. "He shouldn't have to care for her," I would say to myself. But he hasn't had work the last few weeks (over a month now, actually), and he stays up late anyways, so why not allow him to take care of her so I can catch up on sleep? He is completely capable of caring for her, and many times, he's quite efficient at getting her to sleep. Not only that, but he is just as worthy of spending time with her as I am. Allowing him to spend time with her before bed, and putting her to sleep, gives him a chance to bond with her and to actually be a dad, as opposed to the sidelines observer that he tends to become when I monopolize on her care.

Mitch did not have the luxury of learning to care for children at a young age. I became an aunt at ten, and cared for my nieces many times over the years. I volunteered in the church nursery, and I babysat for friends of the family. I have a great deal of experience when it comes to babies and kids, and mothering is very natural for me. Mitch, on the other hand, never had those experiences, and he is still getting used to the idea of being a dad and how to change a diaper, burp, soothe, and entertain the baby. He still frets when she fusses for no apparent reason (perfectly natural for a baby her age), or when she won't go to sleep right away when she's obviously tired (because babies can't self-soothe at this age, and can't figure out how to fall asleep).

It's adorable, really, and I'm glad he's so willing to care for her, even if he doesn't put the diaper on the way I like it--and even if he questions my parenting knowledge and abilities. And it's those times when I must humble myself and admit that even though this is how I learned to do it, there may be another way. Even when I know that I've been caring for children much longer than he has, and have even taken child development classes and the Red Cross babysitting course, and--and--

And I realize that the one thing they can't teach is how to really love your child. I love my nieces, but it's nowhere near the love I feel for my own daughter. And that love can teach you what no class can. The love my husband feels for our daughter is a better teacher than all the courses I've taken and the experience I've had. It has taught him to put another above himself, to calm himself when he sees that his own panic and stress affect her mood, and to allow himself to be taught by someone who knows just a little bit more about basic infant care (namely, me). There is no substitute for a parent's love. I can teach him how to give her a bath, but only he can love her like he does.

Those times when I hand her over so that I can have a break he sees as his opportunity to love her and to be her dad. Those times when even my own motherly love won't give me enough strength to last another hour waiting for her to go to sleep--when I am truly honest with myself and realize I can't always be a martyr and I do need to sleep in order to be a good mother--those are the times that he cherishes and he sees as his chance to be with her, play with her, comfort her, and love her.

I'm thankful for his love, and I refuse to feel guilty for allowing him to be her dad. Because I love her so dearly, I have to allow her to have a dad as well as a mom. I can't be the only parent, and she needs his love and care as much as she needs my own love and care. I could go on and on about this, but I won't. I will simply leave it at this: I am thankful for my husband, and the love he has for myself and our daughter. I am thankful.

Catching Up

Yes, I finally did give birth. It was long and not the birth I had planned, but now I have a beautiful daughter to hold in my arms, and despite the let-down I felt at having to birth at the hospital instead of the birth center, and having to be put on pitocin and eventually receiving an epidural when I wanted a meds-free birth--despite all that, I am glad she's come and it was totally worth it.

So what's happened in the last month that I haven't posted anything new? Well, besides giving birth, I've had to adjust to not only being at home almost all the time, but also to being a mom. I've never been a mom before, and regardless of how much time I've spent babysitting, in the nursery at church, or just hanging around my nieces and nephew, being a mom is still very new. Of course, the basics I perfected (or at least got used to) while babysitting, etc.--like diapering and playing and soothing a baby--are helpful. But there are many new aspects to mothering that I had never experienced, and one can never know these things unless you've been a mother. Things like nursing, and the incredible feeling you get when you look at your precious child and realize that she is the little being that was inside of you for 40 weeks--and that she's just so perfect! Or when she's crying (and though with other babies, if you pick them up, there's a 50/50 chance that they'll keep crying, because they want Mommy, and you aren't good enough, no matter how many animal crackers you give them!), and you just pick her up and talk to her softly, and suddenly, she's calm--just because she's with Mommy.

I've learned the art of nursing in public. It's still a work in progress, but we're getting there. And I've learned the importance of napping, and getting a shower whenever possible, because you never know when you'll be able to shower again! I've discovered the beauty of staying in bed until 10:00 (albeit nursing and such during that time), but I've learned that it comes at a price: only sleeping about 3 hours the night before. I've also experienced the utter amazement that lullabies (or any song sung softly) really do work!

There are times, though, when I don't want to be a mother for a few minutes. Like last night, when I'm trying to get in a good meal, and knowing that my daughter nursed just half an hour before, and hearing her cries of hunger once again. Or there are those nights every once in a while, when I really don't want to get out of bed (even though the crib is just 3 feet away...), but my daughter needs me and she's relying on me to feed her, to change her diaper, and to comfort her. Or on those nights when I just break down and cry because I'm tired and I just want to sleep, but she won't stop fussing, and no matter what I do, she won't go to sleep, and she's being picky with eating, and---

But those times are precious, too. Because I learn from them. I've learned that parenting is so much more of a sacrifice than I ever imagined--and I'm only 4 weeks in! I've realized that from that moment, at 6:33pm on Saturday, September 20th, I was a different person. True, I've been a mother since she was conceived, but at that moment of her birth, I really became a mom. A diapering, nursing, sleep-deprived, worrying mom. My role as a housewife and stay at home mom became real. I had been staying home for weeks before she was born, and I probably should've gotten into my role a bit earlier, but now that she's born, I have just a bit more gumption and willingness to clean the house, make dinner, take care of bills, and make sure that my husband's needs are taken care of. Unfortunately, I can't do as much of that lately, since she's been eating like there's no tomorrow, and gassy, and fussy, and just needing my attention.

But eventually I catch up. Eventually, I'm able to get a load of laundry in, or fill up the dishwasher, or fix up dinner...

And my writing is another subject. It hasn't been touched in weeks. I've been a bit preoccupied, and I know most people would excuse me for that, but I worry. I worry that I'll never be able to get back into it. I mean, from here on out, there's only going to be more and more--she's never going to sleep as much as she did this month. She's (probably) never going to be as easily entertained as she is now. So what hope is there for me and my writing? Well, God said it would happen, and I just have to trust him. He didn't say when, so I could be waiting until I'm 50... but hey, I'm almost halfway there, so that's not so bad, right?? Right...

But I'll catch up. One of these days when my daughter is sleeping, and I'm well rested, and the house is clean, and my husband is still at work, and it's mom's night for dinner... on that day, I'm sure I'll catch up and work on my books a little... if I have the inspiration and don't have writer's block...

I'll catch up... eventually.

The Waiting Game

So here I am, 39 weeks and 4 days pregnant. I am definitely looking forward to the birth of my daughter. Not only because I am looking forward to meeting her and holding her and all that good stuff, but also because, quite frankly, I'm a little tired of being pregnant. I'm sure there are other moms-to-be who feel the same, and that's why I'm not afraid to admit it. You see, about the middle of your third trimester, you're bigger than you've ever been, you have heartburn and swollen feet, and you're just close enough to your due date to think, "Ok, we're almost there!"

And then, once you hit 37 weeks, it's all downhill. You see, from then on, you can safely deliver, and the baby is considered full term. So at 37 weeks, you start telling your baby, "You can come any day now!" But then they don't listen to you (do children ever listen to you??) and you're sitting at home, bored to tears because you've already quit your job, unable to drive because they took away your driving privileges (all because you passed out while driving once...) and you're doing almost everything you can to get that stubborn child out of you already!

You're walking, taking herbs, doing squats, and praying so very hard for that child to come out. And when you feel a slight contraction, even though you don't want the pain, you still want it to be just hard enough for it to be considered a "real" contraction and not just one of those annoying Braxton Hicks.

So you wait... and wait... and wait... And you listen to everyone asking, "Have you had the baby yet?" And you dolefully answer them, no. Then there are those friends who have you all hyped up with their predictions. I had a whole group of people from church telling me that I would have her on September 16th. Well, it's 5:30pm on September 16th, and I've had only Braxton Hicks for the last week--no real contractions. It takes at least a few hours to get those started, and to have them regularly, and a few more hours to progress into active labor and finally have the child, so the chances of me having her tonight are slim to none. But there is still that anxious hope, wanting all my friends to be right, and wanting it to happen right... now. Ok, now. Now? Nope.

So while you're waiting, you have all these annoying pains in your hips, and pressure in your... ok, I'll leave that one alone. And you're trying to create symptoms and signs out of little things, hoping that it's the start of the real thing--but it's not.

Now, do you suppose that when Paul said in Galatians 4:19 that he labors in birth until Christ is formed in the Galatians, that perhaps he was speaking of the waiting time, as well? The whole process of labor includes not only the actual pushing and sweating and being in intense pain part, but also the waiting, the nesting, the eagerly trying to move it along, and the mild contractions that you think are doing nothing, but are really preparing you for the real contractions. It's a lot more than people realize, and I think that God gave Paul, an unmarried man who most likely never really understood the actuality of labor, a special understanding of the process. Even though most people think of labor as the most dramatic, painful part, it's also the waiting. And Paul was waiting for the Galatians to grow in Christ and to see Christ in them. I don't think it's a coincidence that he used those words, or that I thought of them when I was writing this. I hadn't planned on connecting this particular blog with any scripture, but I suppose that's what happens when I just write and allow the Spirit to move me in any direction He wants.

Ok, so we found that connection--what's the lesson? What do we learn from this? Well, I suppose we learn that even though our works may seem in vain, and though our ambitions and our hopes of leading people to Christ, or of doing a particular ministry--though they may seem to be going nowhere--sooner or later, it will happen. I know that no matter what, somehow, at some point, Leah HAS to come out! She can't stay in there forever! Just as new Christians can't stay in their baby stage forever. They can't stay in the warm, comfy, familiar womb of their discipler forever--they have to grow, and they have to move out. It's just the way God designed it. It's the same with ministry--you may not see any growth, but sooner or later, it has to come to fruition. If the Lord is in it, and the Lord has ordained it, then it will come to pass. So don't give up. It's a lot of waiting, but in the end, it will be worth it.

I can't wait for the day when I can hold my baby, and I can truly understand the meaning of this:

"A woman, when she is in labor, has sorrow because her hour has come; but as soon as she has given birth to the child, she no longer remembers the anguish, for joy that a human being has been born into the world." (John 16:21, NKJV)

But in the mean time, all I have to do is wait. Be patient and wait.

Leah

Little Update

Wow, is has been WAY too long since I've updated! I know, no one's really reading, but if someone happens to stumble upon this, I don't want them to think I'm a loser who doesn't blog anymore. So here is a little update of what I've been up to lately:

I guess the biggest news is that I'm pregnant. This has accounted for my lack of posting, as I have been incredibly exhausted and my brain has been working overtime on baby-related stuff.

One of the struggles of being an UNpublished writer is that you still have to pay bills, and if your husband has trouble finding regular work (not seasonal, like construction), you have to make enough for the both of you. Well, that just isn't happening. I'm working part-time, which is good for my health, because to work full time would be too much for me. However, it's not good for our bank accounts... Anyways, I have been working and my work as a drama teacher includes producing/directing/whatever-ing the Spring performance. On top of that, I am directing the High School Spring Production, a dinner theatre. This takes a lot of planning and figuring out and keeping tabs on the high school students and... lots of stuff.

On top of all that, our church, Ethos, finally had its launch. This actually doesn't mean much for me, since my role in the church is not quite ready to be taken yet. Some other things need to be taken care of first, before I start doing that. But I do go to meetings and all that, so it is a commitment.

I have been writing sporadically, and I've been changing my mind on a few different stories. I have a few stories that I just feel don't work, and I've been attempting to make them work, and I've ended up changing the plot completely, just keeping the characters and the basic setting. I haven't actually been writing it as such, for fear that I'll change my mind again. I want to make sure I have it the way I want it in my head before I spend hours and hours re-writing it, only to throw that all out and rewrite it AGAIN. It's good for me, though, to work through different scenarios to see what works and what doesn't. I can keep it in mind for the future, and I can also remember to work out all those kinks BEFORE I write 15 chapters and claim to be "almost done"...

We moved into my sister's house. Well, my parents own it and they live in the granny flat in the back, but the actual house that we live in (and share space with) is my sister's section of the house. It has its ups and downs... For instance, it's great to be in a place with much lower rent, family around, furniture already there, etc. But it can be a struggle at times to live with my nieces. They are not the cleanest children around... Have you ever seen the BBC show, "How Clean if Your House?" Yeah, I think we need them to come and teach the children a thing or two about basic cleaning and hygiene.

It's nice to have my parents around to talk to, to support us, to give us wisdom, and to share their little back house when it gets too crazy in the front house. I think it's helped the relationship between Mitch and my parents to be living together. Most people would say that it would make a relationship between in-laws worse, but I really think it's helped them both to understand each other and to see where they're coming from. I tend to go over to my parents' house a lot when the kids are around, because I get a little overwhelmed with them, and when Mitch gets home from work, he has to come and find me there. I don't bother going back into the house when he comes home, I think subconsciously because I want him to come to my parents' house. He's ended up in a number of friendly conversations with my dad that way, and I think it's good.

Anyways... I've been busy. It's no excuse, of course, but it is a reason. And that's what I've been up to. Hopefully it won't be another three months before I post again. :)

Emotionless

It's a bit of an oxymoron for me. Or rather, I'm a bit of an oxymoron.

You see, my cousin died today.

No, not the one who lives with me. I'd be a bit more hysterical if she died.

I wasn't very close to this cousin, but I came to the hospital to give support to my family. And while everyone around me was blurry-eyed, puffy-faced and holding each other, I just sat. I stared out the window. I watched the cartoons on the tiny TV across the room. I checked and sent text messages, requesting prayer and giving updates. I didn't shed one tear, even when I went in to see her. Even when they announced that she was gone and her best friend and her fiance fell to the floor, weeping and sobbing. I still stared, emotionless.

Normally I'm the one who is told to calm down.

Normally I'm the one who is "overemotional". But today, I just sat and stared.

I guess that's how I deal with death. That's how I've dealt with it so far. Grandparents, aunts, uncles, friends of the family... I've attended their funerals and still, nothing.

I looked out the window as my cousin's friends and family wept. It was cloudy today and the whole window was white--completely void of any differential. I felt like that cold, gray sky, showing nothing but knowing that somewhere in there, there's a storm.

Somewhere beyond the gray, dull exterior, there's torrents of rain and strong winds, waiting to be released. The only question is, when?

It just came to me

I was trying to think of a title for a book that I recently finished. With most books, I can't think of a title until it's completely finished. Even without meaning to, I tend to develop themes--or rather, the stories themselves have a theme but I don't discover it until I've completed it. So... here goes. The book is the first in a series of mysteries, and I can't think of anything better to call the series other than the name of the main character. Original, huh? Well, it works, anyhow. But the name of the first book is "The Adventure." I had been trying to think of a name that went with the book, but they either seemed too serious, too cheesy, or too... dull. So I'm listening to my WMP playlist, and Angels & Airwaves' "The Adventure" comes on. That's when it comes to me. This girl has a normal life, and then she has a series of adventures that lead her to God's perfect plan for her life. So here are the lyrics to "The Adventure"

“The Adventure”
By Angels and Airwaves

I want to have the same last dream again
The one where I wake up, and I'm alive
Just as the four walls close me within
My eyes are open up with pure sunlight
I'm the first to know, my dearest friends
Even if your hope has burned with time
Anything that's dead shall be regrown
And your vicious pain, your warning sign, you will be fine

Hey Oh, Here I am; And here we go, life's waiting to begin

Any type of love, it will be shown
Like every single tree, reach for the sky
If you're going to fall, I'll let you know
That I will pick you up, like you for I
I felt this thing, I can't replace
Where everyone was working for this goal
where all the children left without a trace
Only to come back as pure as gold to recite this all

Hey Oh, Here I am; And here we go, life's waiting to begin
Tonight... Hey Oh, here I am; And here we go, life's waiting to begin
Tonight... Hey Oh, here I am; And here we go, life's waiting to begin

I cannot live, I can't breathe, unless you do this with me.
Hey Oh, here I am (do this with me)
And here we go, life's waiting to begin (do this with me)
Hey Oh, here I am (do this with me)
And here we go, life's waiting to begin



I hope that sparked your interest... :)