Sigh No More

The album 'Sigh No More' by Mumford and Sons is, in a word, superb. I'm lovin' it. I don't like country music, but I like blue grass. I'm not sure what M&S is considered to be, not country I'm sure. There is a lot of great banjo pickin', and for some reason I'm really into that lately. I've also been listening to Nickel Creek. Good stuff.

Christmas music made it's way into our house the day after Thanksgiving, but I'm being very careful to limit how much I listen to it. I don't want to get sick of it too soon!

My baby will be six months old tomorrow. That's right. I can't believe it either. It feels like just yesterday that God helped me push him into this world. He came out wriggling, gurgling, covered in goo, and crying. I never felt relief like I did when I heard that he was healthy, when I saw that he had all of his fingers and toes, and when he looked up at me from my chest and stopped crying for a second as I looked into his eyes. I don't remember much else, but I remember that. Relief, and my baby's dark eyes. His little head had a raised portion on it that was dark purple. (not surprising, I mean, it took me two hours to push him out. My head would be weirdly shaped if I was, well, being squeezed down there for that long.)

The rest of the details are blurry.  I remember my good friend Kari being there.  I remember Andrew's parents and sister coming in and taking pictures of themselves with Isaac.  I remember being sewn up for a long time.  Being more tired than I had ever felt in my entire life, and finally understanding the true meaning of the word exhausted.  The nurse who helped me through the first few hours with no epidural, Di Anna.  She might have been an angel sent straight from heaven just for me.  The nurse who helped me later, I think her name was Sally.  Sally?  I think.  Anyway, she was like a nice drill sargent (oxymoron?) - spouting commands that I needed, in a firm, but gentle manner.  She kept telling me "you're wasting your energy, save it for pushing."

Back to the baby.

He was squishy, warm, soft, good-smelling, wrinkly, snuggly.  He snorted like a piglet every now and then.  He barfed up a lot of amniotic fluid and scared me half to death (for those who don't know, the first time a baby barfs is a traumatizing experience for his mother.  It really seemed like he was choking!).  He was starving, but neither of us knew how get him food; breastfeeding is rough for a first time mom, at least it was for me.

It took me a few minutes, but when it hit me, it was intense.  It didn't happen immediately like I thought it would, but it did happen.  I think it was always within me, but it was buried deeply, and took awhile to find it's way to the surface.   I'm talking about love.  A different love than any I've felt before.

Now when I hear songs about Jesus and what he did for us, it makes me cry.  It always meant a lot to me, and I've been known to get choked up about it here and there.  Something is different now.  I can relate - to a small degree.  I have a son.  I can't imagine giving him up to suffer the way Christ did.  How did God do it?  The very thought puts a frog in my throat.

Thank you God.  Thank you.  Thank you for giving up your son to die for me.  Thank you for giving me a son.  Thank you that you've kept him alive and thriving for 6 months.  May I never be selfish with him.  Bless him, and make him into a man who follows after you with his whole heart.


count your blessings instead of sheep

Daily Blessings:
1) Jesus.  Without him this life would be nothing, mean nothing, amount to nothing.  He died a terrible, horrible, gruesome, painful, lonely death to pay the penalty for my sin and the sins of the world.  Yes, I believe it!  He lives again, in me and through me.  He gives me strength when I have none, love when I feel unloved, peace when my world is chaos.

2) Andrew.  Who else would put up with me?  He loves me for who I am, accepts me, understands me.  He is a gift from God!

3) Isaac.  There is nothing like the look he gives me when Andrew brings him home from grandma's.  Big smile, the genuine kind that is rare to see these days.  Then his arms reach for me, and his smile and laugh turn into something desperate as if to say, "I missed you mom!  Pick me up NOW!"

The list goes on.  Friends, family, house, bed, car, food, fresh smelling laundry, pens that write smoothly, brightly colored leaves drifting lazily off of trees, the ability to see, hear, smell, taste, feel. Breath in my lungs.

I'm a pessimist.  It's easy for me to dwell on negative things, and my cup is always half empty instead of half full.  So I count my blessings.  That helps me remember all the good in my life so that when things are bad, I realize, they really aren't THAT bad.

Baby food update:  Isaac likes rice cereal, pears, and sweet potatoes.  In a few days I'll be introducing green beans.  Right now we are just feeding him solids so that he can practice eating them.  He doesn't need them.  Breast milk has all the nutrients he needs to grow healthy and strong for many more months.  He only eats solids at dinner time right now, and only a very small amount - probably an ounce.  In a little while I'll be able to give him solids at 2 meals, and then a little while after that, 3 meals.  For now, it's just a fun activity for Isaac, Mama, and Dad.

Today Isaac was on his tummy playing with his toys, when he put his head on the ground and stuck his butt up in the air!  Andrew looked at me with the biggest smile.  He'll be crawling before we know it.  I always tell him to take his time, I'm in no rush for him to grow up.


baby food

We've been giving Isaac "real" food for a few months now, here and there, but not consistently.  I've discovered that he doesn't like apples, or bananas.  The proof is in the pictures.  He really likes the spoon though!


it's my party, and I'll cry if I want to.

I wish I could learn to be content.  I have so much to be thankful for; I have so many things that others don't have.  A house.  A bed.  A job.  A family.  Food.

With all that, I still find myself always wanting more.  A bigger house.  A more comfortable bed.  Not having to work.  Better food.  Different circumstances.

I was having a bad night last night, the kind where I just wanted to get in bed, throw the covers over my head, and forget the world.  My back has been hurting a lot lately, so I decided to try and put a foam pad on top of my mattress.  Andrew went up in the attic and brought it down for me.  It was what I used to sleep on way back when I lived with Lisa in the Washburn's basement apartment.  When we unrolled it, I could see that there was a verse written on it.  1 Corinthians 14:33.  After we put the foam pad and the sheet back on the mattress, I kissed Andrew and tucked myself into bed.  I grabbed my Bible.  It was on the bottom of a pile of books beside my bed.  I flipped to 1 Corinthians, and this is what I read in the 33rd verse of the 14th chapter, "For God is not a God of disorder, but of peace."

Sometimes what I read in the Bible goes, sadly, in one eye and out the other.  Other times, rarely, the words jump out at me from the page and hit me right where I am.  I think God reserves these times for when I'm at my lowest point, when life feels hopeless.  That's what happened to me last night.  I was feeling miserable, trapped in circumstances that I couldn't control.  Everything felt out of sorts, disorderly.  Just when I thought that maybe God had stopped listening, stopped caring, He gave me the verse from 1 Corinthians.  And  with that in mind, I was able to turn out the light and fall fast asleep.

And, because I can, I'll share with you some recent pictures of the tiny love of my life.

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