Transitioning out of the crib

I’m not an expert at this.

In fact, I would probably caution you against proceeding in the same way. Our daughter is a month away from turning two and we will be due with our second in just four short months.

It was now or never in my mind.

And on Tuesday evening, just 30 minutes before bedtime, with my husband away at softball oblivious, I ran with my crazy thought to take the crib rail off and install the toddler rail.

That folks, is definitely a what not to do. But for us it worked.

At least for the past two days.

Elizabeth helped me unscrew the crib rail and screw in the toddler rail. We played a bit on her bed. I stealth-fully slipped the crib rail into the next room and shut the door. And then we went about our bedtime routine. And when I went to tuck her in, she clung and whimpered.

I had a feeling in that moment that the tools were about to come back out. But then we cuddled a bit more and talked about the bed and few minutes later she climbed on in and let me tuck her in.

Knowing that we were in for a potentially crazy night I just stayed really close. And of course with the newfound freedom she came right to her door within minutes. I opened it, led her back and we talked again about staying in bed. 10 minutes later I intervened when she brought her books into bed. And then she fell asleep.

Transitioning her out of her bed has been on my mind for months. I’ve read countless stories of people making the transition at her age and heard countless tales from families that have waited. The hardest part about the waiting was the cost. I’ve seriously turned into a bit of a miser. Alex would agree. Even though our second crib would be free we still needed to buy another crib mattress ($100) and paint it ($$). I knew by three we would transition Elizabeth out of her crib because she has been pulling her leg up and over the rail for the past few months (although never attempting true escape). All the rigmarole associated with two cribs seemed like a waste of money when we would just have to buy a twin bed in a year and in the back of my head I always wondered if she could do it. I know most people wait because of the “if it’s not broke, don’t change it” mentality.” I totally get that, but it wasn’t enough to sway me!

Our daughter, though she has her strong willed moments, is actually a fairly good listener for her age. She’s pretty mellow and for whatever reason I didn’t think we’d have any issues. In fact I almost dreaded switching things up later. Usually with decisions like this one I think of the worst case scenario. This to me was having to put the crib rail back on in a couple of days if all hell broke loose. It’s just a couple of screws. Didn’t seem like a horrible scenario to me. And that’s why you found me late Tuesday evening unscrewing a crib rail, spontaneously.

For the past few months, Elizabeth has stirred at night looking for her pacifiers. So it was no surprise the first night that she stirred twice in the middle of the night. This was normal. At midnight she was stuck because she was unable to turn around with the crib rail gone. At 3 am a little voice called out “help please, help please, help please” and I ran into her on the floor in the dark searching for her pacifier on the floor. It was comical. I tucked her safely back in bed and she slept until 7:45 and then we heard her doorknob twisting. She hasn’t quite caught on to the “stay in bed until mommy comes” part in the morning but at least she’s contained in her room and cannot escape.

The second night we didn’t hear a peep until 6:15 when we heard a thud and a cry. Somehow she did twist her way out of the bed. Oops. Nothing some cuddles with mommy in her bed couldn’t fix. Both naps have been super successful. She has stayed in bed and remained in bed until she wakes. No playing with toys or anything.

I know fully that this could be early success and we could be in trouble next week. But I also know that she could succeed and be ready for a twin bed next week. In fact, I think if we had a side rail on a twin bed she would actually do better than on a toddler mattress. But we are taking this one day at a time.

In the end I’m thankful, in a way, for my spur of the moment thoughts. Sometimes I wonder how I’ll ever know what she’s capable of if I never give her the chance to try something.

She may be ready for a big girl bed…but I would have never known until we tried it.

I’ll keep you posted if the crib stays put and everything falls apart:)

Dear Elizabeth, on Mother’s Day

Dear sweet, sweet girl,

It may seem odd for me to write to you on Mother’s day but there’s nothing I’d rather be doing. You see, you made me a mother. There were two before you and of course they really made me a mother, but I got to hold you in my arms and kiss your sweet little face.

I get to mother you.

On Friday we spent our day turning millions of circles in endless games of “Ring around the Rosie.” It was your first time really understanding the game and by bedtime you were spinning your own circles singing “ashes, ashes, fall down,” complete with a dramatic fall of course.

And in the morning when you woke up, hair all a scatter and holding your blankies in your slowly thinning fingers, you called out “mommy, mommy.” And in I came and we caught each others eye and smiles took over.

I love each and every moment with you.

Even those times during the week when you flail your little arms and shake you little head back and forth and scream no. Even when mommy has to buckle your seatbelt and you get so frustrated that I didn’t wait just a few more minutes. And even when you purposefully disobey.

I love being your mama.

Sounds a little cliché maybe, like a hallmark card. I mean, how could I really enjoy most every moment with you. Most moms can’t wait to have a break and I’ll admit sometimes I do need a break but not because you’ve done anything wrong, mainly just because it’s a healthy thing for mommies and daddies to take a break. But I hope you know it’s really not a cliché to me. I truly look at you as a precious, precious gift.

I truly delight in living life with and alongside you.

I don’t know what the days or months or years hold in front of us Elizabeth. I don’t know how long I will live or how long you will live. But I do know that I will strive to point you to Jesus every single day and shower you with grace. And I will love you, in tangible and heartfelt ways, as lavishly as I can. It’s my promise.

You know firsthand that I am not a perfect mommy and I delight in that. Because it’s painting a bigger picture for you that we are not perfect and in every fiber of my being I pray you will see that the antidote to our brokenness is Jesus.

It’s like when we dance in the kitchen in the afternoon sunlight and David Crowder’s “How He Loves Us” streams out of my phone as loud as can be and every time you see mommy’s eyes fill with tears. Sweet girl it’s because my heart is overcome with love and joy. And I hold your little cheeks and look you in the eyes and repeat, “Elizabeth, Jesus love you so very much. Don’t ever forget that.” And you look at me and giggle.

I pray that He will overcome your heart.

He loves you with a love mommy will never come close to.

But I love you as close to that as I possibly can.

Elizabeth, my lizzy-lou, I’m so very blessed to be your mommy.

You’re making parenting my very most favorite job ever.

Let’s Talk Strollers, Doubles that is

I’m still in the planning mode of trying to figure out what on earth we should do. I’m so thankful for so many moms with more than one who have already gone before me! Thank you so much for all your advice on the room and bed situation for Elizabeth. After talking through everyone’s feedback I think we are going to keep her in her current room and in the crib. We will reassess the crib thing as we go, so far she’s not trying to climb out. Since we have a pack and play and access to another crib, kicking her out so to speak, won’t be necessary.

It was so valuable to us to hear all different sides and stories. We really hadn’t thought about the fact that she’s probably already attached to her room and booting her may be insensitive. As soon as we mulled that one over we knew she had to stay put. (since she can)

So that brings us to our next dilemma. Right now we are stroller hoarders. We’ve been given two of our three as a gift so you can all breathe a sigh of relief! That being said, we have our Uppababy Vista, a single jogging stroller, and our Chicco umbrella stroller. With baby #2 on the way we will need something that will accommodate two children.

When we picked the Uppababy we didn’t think we would be having more than one and figured if we did we could add the rumbleseat and make it a tandem double. BUT the rumbleseat is only good up to 35 pounds and Elizabeth is 28. Also she is 35 inches and it may be a tight squeeze on height. Plus it attaches to the back of the stroller, so she would not be facing out but at the back of the seat.

We have narrowed our search down to two options but are open to suggestions. Must haves include:

-Tires that would be able to go over a woodchip path. We walk around a very close pond often and this would be necessary. (Uppababy doesn’t but CM GT does)

-Ability to hold 2 kids. (both)

-Don’t need to be able to run with it. Let’s be honest, with a single jogger, I’m always going to opt to just take one kid. That’s hard enough

-Ability to accommodate a car seat adapter for the baby (both)

-MUST fit through a normal doorway. (both)

Option #1. Keep our Uppababy Vista

Pros: Keep our Uppababy and add the rumbleseat ($100), being able to use the bassinet as a sleep space for the baby (not on the stroller), allows us to use the stroller as a single or double, can accommodate a carseat and Elizabeth, tandem ride. Would eventually have to sell once Elizabeth no longer fit in the rumbleseat. If we wait to sell it will depreciate more.

Other option: Baby Jogger City Mini GT ($389-which is $200 off MSRP right now)

-Would need to sell our Uppababy but after selling, this stroller would be free. Would accommodate both kids for a longer period of time. Can fit through a doorway, has some suspension/all terrain tires, accommodates two kids and a carseat if needed (with extra accessory), folds up relatively small and is fairly lightweight.

What would you do? What have you done? What other options have I missed?

ps…we are headed to a local store that has both of these options to test drive…maybe that will help!

Devotional from today

Today I had the honor of giving the devotional at our MOMS group at church. I don’t normally do things like that but it was a very encouraging thing for me to do and hopefully my random thoughts encouraged someone. But a friend asked what I shared, so I thought why not just put it here. Because I prefer to write things down I took this up and basically read it word for word with some added fodder and attempted to look up so as not to seem like a horrible public speaker.

So here you go:

My husband and I, after 2 years of marriage, began to think that starting a family would be a good thing. But we didn’t end up having our daughter until our 6^th year of marriage so it took us awhile. And the waiting was hard. And something I really struggled with was letting go of the idea of being a parent. I had a fear that we would be childless, or more broadly, that my vision for the future would not be as I imagined. And I had to face that fear.

Our story was kind of unique in that my husband, while he wanted children, he could also could imagine our future without them. And that really scared me. Because I had always wanted to be a mother. In fact, all through college I struggled to find something comparable. Something I’d do until I had children. I remember telling my dad at one point, “but dad I just want to be a mom and be on the PTA.”

But God had a different plan for us. And while we waited I steeped myself in the word and wrestled through the promises and sought to know who God said He was and what that meant for me.

And I found that God is all we need. God is a giver of all good things. God is incredibly good and no evil resides within him. God is not withholding something I want because he is mean, he’s withholding because he has something better. God is our refuge; we can joyfully abide under his wings. God is for us, all the time.

And I sat in Psalm 62 and 63.

“Find rest, O my soul, in God alone; my hope comes from him. He alone is my rock and my salvation; he is my fortress, I will not be shaken. My salvation and my honor depend on God, he is my mighty rock, my refuge. Trust in him at all times.” Psalm 62:5-8

“I have seen you in the sanctuary and beheld your power and your glory. Because your love is better than life, my lips will glorify you. I will praise you as long as I live, and in your name I will lift up my hands” Psalm 63:2-4

And after waiting for 3 ½ years we got pregnant twice and those babies are now at the feet of Jesus. No better place for them to be I’ve come to discern. And soon after those losses, He gave us our Elizabeth. I had realized through the waiting, through the Word, through the tears and unknowns, and through the losses that God was more than enough for everything I was walking through.

More than Enough.

He kept me, encouraged me, held me, loved me, helped me, cared for me, provided what I needed in His word, gave me wisdom from the pulpit to feed my soul, and then He gave us our daughter when we least expected it.

I can still remember the day, after taking a break from medical intervention, when my husband shared that he felt it was time to go back. We were on a year long sabbatical from trying for babies, discerning what the Lord had for us in the future, figuring out how to move forward. And the Lord had just brought me to a place that I knew I would be okay, in Him, if we never had children. My dream, my fear had been surrendered at the feet of Jesus, knowing that whatever He had in store for us was good and better than parenthood. I stood on the ground that God was more than enough and just a few months later He gave us Elizabeth.

It seems when we our given a gift we never even thought possible, the gift has far greater meaning. Like the cross and forgiveness through the blood of Jesus. We call Elizabeth tangible grace when we speak of the Lord’s goodness to us. She’s undeserved favor that we can enjoy with our own two hands.

And we’ve all been given good gifts from the Lord. I’ll assume if you’re here you probably have children. And our children are incredible blessings from the Lord, gifts given, tangible grace. And all good gifts are meant to be enjoyed for our joy and for His glory. It is good to delight in our children.

From a spirit of fear that our future would not be as I thought it would, to fully believing that God was enough even if we never had that dream fulfilled, has given me such freedom to enjoy the gift He has given us in our daughter and helped me in the days and hours when parenting is really hard work.

God, everyday in our parenting, in the struggles, in the pain, in the rejoicing, in the waiting for salvation, in the moments we want to pull our hair out. He is always enough, well more than enough for us.

We can find rest in Him because He alone is our ever present help in time of need, our refuge, our mighty rock. He alone is better than life and He is more than enough for everything that comes our way.

The day of unfortunate events

Sunday morning I awoke early and while lying awake the silence was broken by the sound of a small little cough from the next room. Baby girl had awoken and it seemed the cold that was burgeoning the night before had not broken but only grew worse.

I slowly ambled next door to her room, wrapping my robe about me, and found her smiling at her crib rail, trying patiently to hold back the coughing fits. As I grew closer to her I realized that the clear stuffy nose I thought was due primarily to the three molars emerging, was instead green snot oozing from her nose. Ugh. Summer cold at hand.

And my next thought was coffee. I was going to need coffee to get through this day. And we headed downstairs to the coffeemaker when I realized I never bought coffee filters the day before. Plus coffee making just seemed like too much work and so we waited, playing quietly for 8am to come around so we could head to Target for cold supplies and the coffee that would start my day.

Not wanting to wait longer we started out earlier, somehow forgetting the time the store opens, and arrived at 7:45 to closed doors. To Walgreens we’ll go and grab coffee next door and so we drove and ugh. The door read 8am. Sunday morning doesn’t bring early customers I suppose. And so we walked next door and secured what seemed to be the only thing going for me. The coffee that would help get me through. And it was good.

As 8am rolled around we found our way to the sickness aisle and found our needed supplies; more Vicks for her heels, saline spray, cold tablets, boogie wipes, and apple juice. Armed with enough germ fighting supplies I left feeling confident this day would get better. And for awhile it did.

But then I remembered that our small group was supposed to be meeting at our house later that afternoon. Surely so many with tiny ones wouldn’t want to be in the sick house despite quarantining baby girl off to the lower level. Thankfully a friend offered up their house and I would still bring the food I was planning on serving.

So as the day passed we watched cartoons, played on the floor, read books, drank apple juice, napped, and somehow I still managed  to make the meal for our small group. After the last nap of the day the hours dwindled and Nana and Papa arrived for baby watching.

We welcomed them in and noting that I had some time to spare I sat down to chat with them and then it happened. Baby girl came running towards me, tripped on the carpet, and I watched, unable to stop her, as she slammed her chin into the chair I was sitting in. Not usually one to cry after something like that I knew as the sobs came that something wasn’t quite right. I quickly picked her up and oh my, the blood.

Pouring out of her mouth it came, as I ran with her to the kitchen and attempted to the best of my ability to get it to stop. Her shirt looked like a crime scene, stained red and her poor little mouth had seen better days. Two puncture wounds to her bottom lip and a 3/4 inch slice under her lip. Poor baby had a puffy lip and a stuffy nose. This day wasn’t necessarily getting better.

And after getting the gushing to stop we assessed. All three of us trying to discern how bad the damage was. And on the phone I got, calling our after hours care at our clinic. It was then that I realized my inability to understand math was really going to hinder our ability to communicate. The doctor on call returned my phone call and asked how bad things were. I said she had a couple of lacerations on her lip around 2cm. What I meant was 2mm but apparently in all the excitement my brain ceased to function despite all the coffee I had made sure to consume.

And it seemed that once I could fully communicate the damage across phone lines, the final decision was to head to the ER in fear that the cut under her lip would need some attention. Unfortunately our food never made it to small group and neither did I, but that was far less of an issue. I realized then how thankful and blessed I was to have my in-laws along for the adventure our Sunday afternoon turned into. It was so nice to have some company. And as I sat down in the waiting room my mind discerned that this was probably not going to be our last time here. Our baby girl is incredibly curious and adventurous. I might as well make peace with that now. At least I had the forethought at the beginning of summer to purchase a first aid kit for the car which came in handy when the doctor told us to apply gauze to her lips. Well chalk that up as a win for me. Gauze I can do.

No stitches were needed and by the time we left the ER an hour later it seemed our daughter thought the whole ordeal was no big deal. A big fat lip was not going to stop her from eating, drinking out of her straw cup, or sucking on her pacifier. I’m often astounded at her pain tolerance. She definitely didn’t get that from me.

And on arrival home we both breathed in a big sigh of relief as daddy walked through the door. And to think we had dinner, ready and waiting for us. Somehow the little things were taken care of. We’d come full circle yesterday…a good start with an even better end and everything we could possibly imagine in between.

And over our late dinner, my heart reminded me that it seems when we’re all together again everything is right in our little world.

Chicago bound

We’ve decided to take a trip.

Without Elizabeth.

My heart started racing just writing that. Somehow, like all little ones, she’s wrapped herself around my heart strings and I just don’t want to let her out of my sight…except for nursery at church of course.

But I know it’s time and I really want to go away. With Alex. Just the two of us. We’ve done a couple of longer dates being gone most of the day. And she’ll be fine. I know she will and maybe that’s part of the letting go. But seriously, we both just love being around her. Apparently too much. I think it’s so interesting all the things that go on inside the heart. We long for time away from our kids so we can get a break and then we go ahead and plan something and all of a sudden being away sounds like torture:) That’s parenthood for you.

And so, with my heart strings pulling, I know I can’t go too far away for the first trip. A flight away but still in the Midwest. So we chose Chicago. 3 days, 2 nights. And neither of us have been there in years.

So that’s where all of you come in. Where to stay, where to eat, what to do?

I want to eat my way through Chicago. Seriously. Anything and everything amazing please chime in. Giordano’s, Gino’s, Lou Malnati’s?

Things to do? Navy Pier, concerts in the park, sightseeing must see’s?

And for those who have gone before tips on taking the first trip away and really enjoying it for all it is?

Thanks friends:)

Elizabeth-11 months old

334 days you have been with us.

And not one of them was guaranteed.

All of them a gift. A much grace filled gift.

Seems folly to write of our days with you when hearts are hurting in Oklahoma, but to not embrace what we have been given today would also seem folly. And today we’re embracing you, celebrating you.

Elizabeth, you bring us incredible joy. It is our privilege to be your momma and daddy. To think there are only 31 more days until you’ve been tangible grace before us for an entire year seems almost unimaginable.

11 months, dear girl, filled with tears and laughter and cuddling and smiling. You are our kind hearted girl. You have a very curious spirit, always interested in how things work. You are spunky and as quiet as you can be, you can also be loud. Shrieking and shouting are your newest fascinations and you jabber up a storm. We’re impressed by your comprehension as you readily complete what we ask of you (for the most part). You love to be near your momma, “helping” in any way you can.

Your loving nature spills over in giving kisses, open mouth and all, and you are fascinated by kids that are younger than you. Even fascinated by those who are older than you but still immobile. Yes, you are on the go dear girl. You are almost running now that you have walking down and just today you stood up without having to hold on to something. You can cruise right up the stairs and love to play at the park on all the equipment. You love to be around people and as much as you sometimes like to interact you equally love to just take everything in. You are a very good listener and right now will obey momma and daddy when we say no. We’ve also seen some mini-fits when you can’t quite seem to communicate what you want. Although communicating is getting easier as you can sign “all done” and “more.”

I could go on and on about you…we love you so very, very much!

Finding solid ground

Yesterday I rambled on and on about my conflicting feelings over my first mother’s day. Embracing this new role has come easy in some ways and has thrown me for a loop in others. It’s a work in progress.

But after much discussing, reflecting, praying and reading I’m finding some clarity…

Being a mother, after being a wife, was my hearts desire since I was a little girl. I never had those vast sweeping notions of being a doctor or lawyer or even have a career beyond the home. The only professions that came close as a little girl and then as an adult were a missionary or a teacher, both obviously very key pieces to mothering. When we got married, being a wife just seemed to fit. I love to serve Alex and keep our home. And as we awaited our next steps, I found joy in mothering other children.

But as we waited, I found my heart grappling with things I would hear throughout Christian circles and even within our own church (although rarely). The common phrase that motherhood “is a woman’s highest calling” and women are “saved through childbirth” began to weigh on my heart. And as we waited I worked though these…falling back on the fact that the Lord created us for His glory and our highest true calling is following after him. How could God withhold this “highest calling” from my life? Now I don’t believe these to be fully accurate.

And now that I’m on this side, I have tasted and seen what an incredible gift it is to be a mother. It’s a sanctifying, self-sacrificing, building up, molding, and discipling kind of work. And I love most every moment. My heart is full for the task the Lord has set before me and I’m ever grateful that I get to wake up and do what I’ve longed to do each and every day. Seriously. I pinch myself at times.

It’s a noble calling and one worth every ounce of energy. We have the joy of bringing up the next generation, using the wisdom and grace the Lord has given us to pour truth into another heart. It’s a good and wise profession to be a worker at home and to raise children. But I still do not think it is my highest calling. And as far as being saved through childbirth, I like this view from John MacArthur.

So yesterday, I fell into uncertainty as I faced a day I previously struggled through. In the past I focused on honoring mothers, our own and others, but the emptiness of my arms still stung. And now with heart and arms full this Mother’s Day I struggled through the fact that here I was, on the other side, embracing the gift of Elizabeth, the one who made me a mother. Why me?

Here I am, by the grace of the Lord, living a life I could only hope for. So undeserving. And still learning how to embrace this good, noble calling of motherhood when I still know the pain that comes in waiting and knowing so many who were struggling for joy yesterday. Knowing how to care for hurting hearts while holding the thing longed for is a delicate thing. And this expands beyond the walls of infertility.

God was good to give us Elizabeth. These past months have proved, only like few other times in my life, to be sanctifying months. We prayed when we waited for babies, not mainly for the task of parenting, but for the sanctification that parenting brings. And He’s answering that prayer ten-fold, for His glory and our good.

But by the end of the day yesterday, I found joy in accepting and embracing the gift of motherhood. God gave us Elizabeth, in His perfect wisdom, in His perfect timing and in doing so gave me the honor of being her mother. Why, I don’t know but I’m hoping maybe one day I’ll find out?

Sometimes accepting God’s good gifts can be staggeringly difficult.

And I’m learning there’s grace for that.

life on a monday

monday morning at our house after a delightful full night’s sleep

oh happy day

A million little choices

The days are filled with a million little choices. Some are fleeting, while others build foundations. The depths of our souls are made known in everyday actions.

This morning, upon rising, we were met with the beauty of snow covered branches. And our day of a million little choices began. To accept or complain.

As I took Elizabeth to the window she was fixated, staring out at the beauty. I had two choices and my mouth spoke…"Look, Elizabeth. Isn’t the snow beautiful. God made the snow.” Because spring will come in time, but He holds the storehouses in His hands. And He gives His children GOOD things.

Thankfulness flooded my heart that this time I was not prone to complain. That my response did not sound like “Ugh. Snow again. When will spring come.” Because that response only echo's a discontentment with the gifts from the Giver. I’m so far from getting it right, mind you. But my heart overwhelmingly wants her to know of His goodness. Wants her to see beauty in the unexpected. Wants her to welcome good gifts in all their seasons.

As a mother I’m quickly realizing the magnitude these little choices hold. I’m fallen. I’ll never get it right. Never do it perfectly. But as I figure out my role and the influence it holds, I’m ever more cautious with my tongue, with those choices entrusted to me.

It begins with the dawn and ends with the night, ever cyclical, and I can’t shake the reality that day in and day out I’m helping mold a little mind. My little disciple follows me about all the day on hands and knees, already mimicking the sounds and sights she sees. Feasting her eyes on the world, learning what she can expect. Will she expect spring to follow winter or will she expect the falling of snow to cease on March 1st? Because spring will come. Will she expect to have all she wants or will she expect that she will have all she needs? Because He gives us all we need. And the thoughts go on through my mind.

Willing my heart to expect what is spoken in the Book and not the thoughts amongst the world all around. Praying for little expectation regarding the circumstances around me. For expectations are a funny thing. They can bring so much joy and so much sorrow. I’ve been learning a valuable lesson through the years on expectations.

The less I expect from the fallen world around me and the more I trust His sovereignty, the more joy that will fill my heart.

It seems like so long ago that a lesson was taught to my heart full of disappointment. Fewer expectations bring more joy. Seemed backward at the time. Seemed silly to not expect people to do certain things. To not expect the weather to change. To not expect the world to go exactly the way that I anticipated it should.

I can see my pride ever before me. Those respectable sins.

In the beginning, I admit, the letting go came purely out of the thought that if I let go of expectations then I’ll be disappointed less often. This truly is the case. But it was less of a God thing and more of a selfish, I-don’t-want-to-hurt kind of thing.

But as He taught me little by little, a million little choices at a time, to instead look up, to trust Him, to see the joy in the everyday, the reason behind my thinking began to change and joy began to replace the disappointment. And not only did He reveal this through His word, He kept refining the work by walking me through trial after trial. Helping me make peace with the past. Helping me think of things in a way that glorifies.

I won’t expect my dad to be someone and something that he isn’t.

I won’t expect my husband to know what I’m thinking or to read my mind.

I won’t expect Elizabeth to sleep the same way everyday or always obey.

I won’t expect that the weather will change when I’m ready for it to.

And the list goes on.

Because how can I expect perfection from the fallen.

A million little choices face me everyday. Face us all.

And a little one is watching.

So is the world.

What will they see?

On Feeding the Babe…part 2

We’re in a whole new world over here.

Our daughter can really house some food. Seriously. It cracks us up nearly every dinnertime, especially if it’s something she likes. Like guacamole. On family taco night she ate so much taco meat covered in guacamole that Alex and I were in shock.

We’ve transitioned almost entirely to Baby Led Weaning (BLW) and have, for the most part, put away our spoons and purees. This has been SO liberating. We were never really doing purees entirely, but now that she can shovel it in, we’ve put them on the back shelf, at least we thought we did.

Our first round of feeding baby can be found here: Elizabeth & Food.

That was until we went on vacation. In preparing for our second trip to Florida, I picked up a few food pouches thinking they would be great for the airport, etc. I decided to let her try one before we left and halfway through she pulled it out of my hand with a look on her face, “mama I got this.” And got it she did. She can not only eat out of the pouch but hold it as well. Even more liberating.

Well, on vacation, Elizabeth experienced her first cold, high temps and all. And her eating of solids went out the window. Purees and milk were all she wanted. And since we’ve been back she’s been a bit more finicky with her solids. Some things she wants, like guacamole, and others she doesn’t, like her former favorite fruit of bananas. So instead of investing in loads of pouches, I decided to put our frozen cubes of purees to use. In a Little Green Pouch.

These are amazing. I just pop a few frozen cubes of food into the microwave to thaw or leave them out, mix them together, and pour them in. Obviously not as simple as just plucking them off the shelf, but at least I can semi control what is going in them and hopefully they will prove to be a money saver.

And now back to making frozen baby food cubes…

Easiest, cheapest, and most straightforward way to make your own baby food especially if you want the food to be organic?

BUY FROZEN.

Frozen fruits and veggies retain all of their nutrients, are less expensive than their fresh counterparts, and are frozen at peak ripeness. I buy bags of frozen peas, green beans, squash, carrots, spinach, kale, blueberries, strawberries, etc. Trader Joe’s has an excellent frozen organic fruits/veggies for really cheap! When I want to make a batch of cubes, I place the desired amount of food into a dish, cook it (microwave/steam/stovetop), and pop it in the blender. Then pour into containers and freeze if needed. I know there is debate over refreezing a thawed item but I’m not that concerned. More info is here which explains that most veggies and fruit are flash frozen and never cooked before freezing. We’ve never had an issue, I’ve tasted all of it and it tastes perfectly normal, great even.

Elizabeth’s favorite combo: Pears, Spinach, and Kale

So now we are using both. Purees for pouches and BLW for most meals.

on the other side

I wasn’t sure if I would ever post this.

But here I am.

I can still remember the month that the lights began to fade. I laughed a little less, worried a bit more, and most days dreaded the early morning wake up call. At the time I wasn’t quite sure what was going on. I just knew that I didn’t feel like myself.

I began grasping for excuses…I just had a baby, motherhood will take an adjustment to get used to, if only she would sleep…and from there the feelings of inadequacy and discontentment began to grow.

This was right around the time Elizabeth was 3 months old. End of September. Life became overwhelming. Every little decision when it came to Elizabeth seemed to send me into a spiral of fret, certain things had to be done just so or it seemed everything would all fall apart. And along with it, I began to feel down. I just couldn’t shake the doldrums that ushered in with autumn.

On the outside, most didn’t notice a difference. It even took Alex some time to come around. All I remember is going through the motions. I was asked a few times if everything was alright because I didn’t seem myself, but I just rolled it off as lack of sleep. I mean, that was the truth. Everyday was filled with the things that needed to be done. Just enough to get us through. Diapers changed, baby rocked and fed, snippets of sleep, dinner on the table. But in reality, while my arms and legs still managed to keep house and tend to Elizabeth, inside I was drowning. What I noticed the most was that I began doing without feeling. Life became lifeless.

I lost the joy. The awe of looking in the eyes of our daughter, feeling her soft baby skin, it was lost on me. Instead I began to resent her. Frustrated when she wouldn’t sleep, burying my head in the pillow when her sweet voice called out in the early morning light, and finding myself more invested in schedules and time rather than in the little life before me.

Here I was, now a mother, and I was floundering at the task at hand. And I had had 8 years of prior experience running a household with 3 little ones underfoot as a nanny. I knew how to do “mothering” without always engaging. But I never thought that mothering my own would feel so empty and so full of tears. Almost anything would set them off. And frustrated with myself, I began digging deep. Trying to figure out what was going on. Even time in the Word, singing worship, calling out in prayer became lifeless and dull.

One day I had enough. I posted post-its all around our house. And on them were printed the most elementary commands. “Feeling Weary…pray!, Tired…pray!, Need joy…pray!” I thought maybe I could muster up enough faith to rid my heart and mind of the cobwebs. Bring back joy.

And then one morning I found myself sitting before my husband saying “Honey, I think I am depressed.” At first he kind of laughed. And then he saw and knew. And he stated the most obvious of responses, “Honey, maybe you are.” And then I took some time to mull that over in my head. For over a month.

Right after that time, when Elizabeth was 7 months old, my cycle restarted. And I found this post by Joanna Goddard and read it. And then I decided it was time to see my OB.

Going in felt foolish…I was sure it was all in my head. Inside I felt defeated. Tests were run, forms filled out, surveys taken. The next day the verdict was in. Thyroid was fine, blood sugar normal. One thing was off, severely low.

My vitamin D level.

A vitamin D deficiency can mimic the symptoms of postpartum depression. The feelings I felt were very real. The darkness was real. And after one day on massive amounts of Vitamin D, the joy began to flood back in. Darkness slowly fading, cobwebs being swept away.

I had an aha moment: Of course…the times I felt my best were the few months after Elizabeth was born (summer) and our vacation to Florida (sunshine). An answer. To be honest, even if everything would have come back normal and postpartum depression was the source, I would have been relieved to have been honest. To have sought help. By the time she was 7 months all I wanted was to be back to myself.

And even though there was a reason for the darkness, I’m still realizing that it’s going to take awhile to find my rhythm. To find my way of mothering. But at least now, one thing is for certain, the months ahead, while hard and trying, will be filled with hope and joy.

Praying for you mothers out there, walking through the trenches, battling the cobwebs that cloud our hearts and minds, to find joy in the morning.

truth I’m believing

and this pertains to every aspect of my life

it’s okay to be me

and it’s taken this girl a long time to realize that

 

here’s to being the beautiful people God created us to be

uniquely us.

Giving myself grace

That’s my theme for 2013. Word of the year = grace.

Sometime around Thanksgiving I started letting myself off the hook. Off the hook for having everything together, decorating our house perfectly, being scheduled. Our life is far from perfect but if motherhood has taught me anything in 6 short months, it has taught me that I need more and more grace.

Especially from myself.

I don’t tend toward perfectionism normally. Mainly because I’ve lived enough years making a fool of myself. Perfectionism and Andrea just don’t go hand in hand. Before Elizabeth, I never held myself to the unattainable, the world’s standard. I never felt beat up or like I had to get it together. I spent way too many years in early adulthood striving for that and it led nowhere. My motto for life, ever since a dear mentor mentioned it in college, has been learning to manage my expectations:

“The difference between your expectations and reality is disappointment.”

Isn’t that the truth? And yet, I’ve spent the past 6 months, not disappointed necessarily, but living in this place between satisfied and frustrated. Right after Elizabeth was born things were really good. I was happy and fulfilled and enjoying every single minute with my baby girl. And then came the slight hints of disappointment. Here or there they would pop up. I thought, for some silly reason, that I could do it all. I mean, we all can do it all for awhile, right? Then the Lord hits us over the head.

I can’t do it all. I can’t even come close. Try telling that to a girl who has a servant heart, loves quality time, and is introverted. That translates to a girl who gives so much she’s forgets herself, any spare time she fills up with people because she needs the quality time, and then in the aftermath she realizes there’s nowhere to turn for some good introverted introspection and time alone. I’m not a schedule person and I was becoming neurotic over Elizabeth’s “schedule.” I don’t know who that person was.
It wasn’t me.

I became a mess of emotions. Self-pity, resentment, bitterness, pride, selfishness…they all came out to play. Unable to give myself grace because for some silly reason I felt as though I needed to do it all. I mean Elizabeth was depending on me. And the downward spiral began…and on my birthday I began to see again. Began to see what was missing.

I missed me. Slowly in all the day in and day out matters I had lost sight of myself. That woman that is confident, care-free, non-type-A, silly. Before Elizabeth ever came I remember repeating the hierarchy to myself…(God first, Alex second, Elizabeth third). And somewhere as the months flew by this hierarchy began to look like Elizabeth first, second, and third. And people kept telling me it was just a season as I grew more dissatisfied.

I don’t know when mommy martyrdom began but I’m totally opposed. Don’t get me wrong, I LOVE being a mommy…I waited my whole life for this and it’s everything I ever imagined it to be. What I didn’t imagine was losing myself. I feel for me to be a good momma I need to be in good health. Not physical per say, but emotional, mental, and spiritual. And as my birthday passed me by, I began reflecting and giving myself grace. Mommy hood to me doesn’t mean losing my identity in motherhood. Because there’s so much more to me.

So I’ve been working, slowly, to dig deep and find that person that was left behind. She was still in there, thank goodness. And I’ve set some things up to make sure I don’t get lost again. Safeguards.

As Christmas came around, like any momma, I wanted it to be perfect. But just so you know, I didn’t bake one cookie, I only took a few pictures, I didn’t pose Elizabeth in 500 different poses to get the right shot, I didn’t worry about our décor in our house, I didn’t buy her an ornament, I didn’t do any of the 500 great crafts on Pinterest, and we only made it 1/2 way through our advent reading. Instead I cuddled our sweet baby girl, gave her kisses, helped her to sleep, and fell in love all over again with myself and with Alex. I just looked at Pinterest and told it to step back. Not gonna bring me down.

I gave myself grace. It wasn’t perfect, not even close. And I’m still giving myself grace. I put Elizabeth in the nursery at Lifetime Fitness so I  could walk on the treadmill and have a few moments to myself. And that’s okay. I wanted to stop nursing but I didn’t. And that’s okay. I want Elizabeth to sleep better but she doesn’t so I just cuddle her more. And that’s okay. I wish my family lived closer so we could see them more often but they don’t. It’ll be okay. I want to write and live and be a woman, be me. And that’s okay.

I have to take care of myself so that I can take care of others. So that I can better make much of Jesus. So that I can love my husband and daughter more. I’m re-learning that to thrive in motherhood I need to be okay stepping back at times and managing my expectations. And that means giving myself grace.

So here’s to 2013 and giving GRACE!