I'm warning you right now, I just read through this post, and it is one heck of a sentimental ride, so if you are under 52 inches tall in the sentimental department, you might want to get out of line now...I will be back later with more normal posts about my laundry and love of Lucky Charms.
The rest of you: buckle up and enjoy the ride! =)
In just two short days, my baby boy is going to be one year old.
One. year. old.
In the midst of the whirlwind that is planning for a birthday party and trying to get our house picture-ready for the housing market all in the same week, I find myself pausing.
Pausing because
I never want to forget what life felt like a year ago.
I never want to forget what it felt like to hold a life inside of me, a little one being knit together by the Father's hands before we ever saw his face. I never want to forget the miracle that was carrying life and knowing God loved my son before my son ever even stepped foot in this world. I never want to forget the feelings of anticipation and peace and joy that came with knowing there were just days separating me from seeing my baby face to face for the first time. I never want to forget the hustle and bustle of preparing our "nest" so it would be ready to welcome our sweet gift home.
This week, the memories have come back in waves, flooding me with feelings and emotions and sights and smells, and then pulling back out to sea with the busyness of the day. Hours, minutes, moments later, the tide comes in again and overwhelms my senses with another precious memory of that season of newness a year ago.
I remember the moment my son was born, and what it felt like to hold his sweet self against my chest, fresh as a new day and quiet as a mouse, he nuzzled up against me like he'd always known I was his mama even though he'd only just met me. I remember looking over at the Hubs after hearing the nurses call for someone to bring him some orange juice and crackers and telling him, "Honey, please don't pass out on me today. We just had a baby. You can't pass out today." And all the while thinking...wasn't
I the one who should be getting the OJ and crackers?! I remember laughing with joy because good grief, who knew how wonderful and beautiful and overwhelming this would be for
all of us!
I remember my heart breaking when the nurses told me that Newbie's heart rate was too high, and then I remember my heart rejoicing when they took him from my chest, checked his vitals, and sent the NICU team they had on-call in our room on their merry way, leaving my sweet boy behind with me. I remember crying and my heart filling with pleas for healing when they set him on the examination table after the NICU team left and said his respiratory rate was still too high and they would need to monitor him. I remember I kept asking questions they wouldn't answer and I remember turning my panic into unceasing prayer in the delivery room.
I remember that day feeling like eternity when the numbers of the respiratory count didn't go down. After the bustle of visitors left and the Hubs and I were left alone with our sweet boy, I remember holding him and hugging him and marveling over the miracle that was our new baby. I remember ignoring the numbers and just drinking in my baby, alone for the first time in the quiet of that evening.
I remember bawling when the Hubs followed the nurse out of our room that night to feed Newbie with a feeding tube because his numbers were still too high to nurse. I remember crying when the third doctor came in late that evening and finally said they needed to take him to the intermediate NICU. I begged the Hubs to go with him so he wouldn't be alone, and called my mom and just sobbed and sobbed into the phone because my baby was sick and I wanted him to be with me, not stuffed away in another room in the hospital without us. Again my panic turned into unceasing prayer through the night for my sweet baby, and was joined by the prayers of wonderful family and friends as we waited to find out what the next day would bring.
I remember the newness of the next morning and the glory of God revealed when we heard the fantastic news that our sweet boy was breathing at a normal rate and could come back to our room later that day, and most certainly would be well enough to go home with us the following morning. I have never felt the peace and presence of the Lord more fully than through the long hours of that evening Newbie spent in the INICU, and I have never felt the overwhelming awe of the Lord's goodness more than that bright sunny day when the doctors told us he was better.
I remember taking in more details once my heart was settled and my baby was better that afternoon. The light, fresh smell of the hand sanitizer set on the wall by the door to our room. The amazing menu of room-service food that I was too excited and anxious to eat, but happy to see was readily available. The faces of family and friends who stopped in to visit. The squeak of nurses shoes and the haze of their faces floating over mine, taking my temperature and checking my vitals while I drifted in and out of sleep. The windowsill lined with flowers and cards and baby gifts as worship music played softly from the radio perched near the edge. It is all there, as if it was yesterday...
I remember the sweet coos and rustling of my baby boy, swaddled in warm white hospital blankets, lying in the bassinet next to my bed the first night he was allowed to stay with us in the hospital. I remember the butterflies of excitement and worry and concern that fluttered any time I heard him make a peep by my side. Three long hospital nights with barely two hours of sleep each float through my mind, and I remember what it was like to be sustained only by the grace of God and family while I gave birth and the Hubs and I cared for a brand new baby running on so few hours of rest.
After the storm of memories of Newbie's up-and-downs in the hospital, I smile when I remember what it was like to finally have him home. To walk in the doors, entirely exhausted, and to swaddle him up and share our home with him. To crawl into bed and continuously slip one eyelid open to peek on him sleeping in the bassinet next to me. I laugh when I remember those sleepless nights at home, when we would stumble from our room to the nursery, murmuring words of encouragement to each other as we performed another diaper change and then another, usually both before we even picked him up off the changing table. The best memory being when the Hubs was so tired that he zipped an extra fresh diaper up into the legs of Newbie's sleeper after a late night diaper change, which I didn't discover until the next morning, when I chuckled to myself because
oh my goodness, what a lack of sleep will do to a soul!
I remember snuggling down in the rocking chair, in a haze of exhaustion, holding that sweet boy and nursing him, listening to his newborn sounds and stroking the feathery blonde hair at the nape of his neck, knowing that it was no small thing that he was so fresh and new, coming to us straight from the hands of our Creator.
In the same moment, I remember long nights and days trying to get the hang of nursing while at the same time maintaining my sanity. I remember marking dirty and wet diapers and timing feedings and crying when I couldn't understand how on earth some of my friends had done this for several months on end. I remember taking it minute by minute, feeding by feeding, until one day, out of nowhere, Newbie finally decided to come to the party and confirmed what all my friends had told me about how easy and quick and wonderful nursing can be if you just tough it out until you both get the hang of it. I remember laughing because before I had a baby, talking about nursing gave me the willies and nursing a baby when there were other people around seemed so taboo, and then BAM! there I was, rocking the nursing apron and the breast milk like nobody's business.
I remember what it was like to finally begin to come out of that newborn fog...to have a few more hours of sleep at night and to let some things go because our baby was getting bigger and less fragile by the day. To at the same time, stop letting some things go- like the enormous amount of stuff that had accumulated in the corners of my home while the Hubs and I were busy taking care of our new charge.
I remember weeks later finally beginning to see and register the faces of our visitors, when before they had been sweet hearts journeying to our home with warm dinners and hugs and cuddles for our little boy, but still faces that swooped in and out like a dream because I was just too tired to be anything close to a gracious hostess or good company. Suddenly they were friends and grandparents and aunts and uncles and we were so happy to have them there to celebrate with us. I remember being happy because we finally felt like making our own dinner and getting out to go for walks and taking in more than just the fresh air, but the sights and sounds around us as we pushed our little man in the stroller.
I remember drenching our hands and the hands of our visitors in sanitizer and my mom gifting me a Costco gallon of the stuff as a result. I remember taking each binky that fell to the floor through a vigorous disinfecting regimen before giving it back to Newbie. I remember freaking out over each and every single thing because I am a rule follower, and if there was ever a time to follow rules, it was when there was a newborn in the house.
I also remember when I decided to stop wiping off binkies that fell to the floor.
I remember feeling like I was camping out on the border of crazytown for several months after I thought I had begun to come out of the fog, and I remember when I decided it was time to just step in and take up residency because children make you crazy, and that is, quite frankly, half the fun.
And that's the moral of the story: children make you crazy, and that is half the fun. Having the opportunity to learn where I am vulnerable as a parent and where I need to ask God to fill in the gaps has been the biggest challenge and delight of my journey in motherhood thus far. As the waves of memories crash on the shore of my mind, I remember realizing several times throughout this past year that no matter how much I try to care for my sweet boy and keep him from harm, God is the only one in true control, and my baby is more God's child than mine anyway. This would be terribly frightening, if it weren't for the truth that God loves my sweet baby more than I could ever imagine, and He has a plan and purpose for Him far beyond what I can see. I remember how peaceful and reassuring that truth felt when I let it saturate my being and when I surrendered my little man over to the Lord, where he really belonged in the first place. It was several times throughout my pregnancy and then that first morning in the hospital when things were so scary that I first acknowledged my surrender of Newbie over to God, and just about every morning since then has been a surrender as well, to tell you the truth.
As the waves of memories ebb and flow throughout this week, I'm recognizing a constant theme of God's goodness and sustaining grace. His peace and love and sovereignty are woven throughout those first days with my son and continue to intertwine throughout the story of his first year. Motherhood has been for me, a constant laying down of my plans for Newbie and a constant surrendering of them over to the Lord. I am overwhelmed with gratitude and praise for God, who despite my failures, loves me and my family with an abundant love that flows over and calms all the fears and trepidations that come with raising one of His children. I feel so blessed to be entrusted with Newbie as my son, and so grateful to God for leading us each step of the way.
So this week, I'm allowing myself to get lost in the sea of memories of the past twelve months, and savoring every last one of them, then handing them back to the Lord and saying, "Thank you. Thank you for gifting me with this sweet boy and for allowing me the honor and great joy of being his mother."
Then, we are rocking this boat and celebrating!
We are going to celebrate each memory that's swelled in my mind: each month, week, day, and moment of Newbie's first year as a part of our family. We are going to eat cotton candy and birthday cake, drink soda pop and lemonade, and be merry for God is so,
so good and His works are wonderful, we know that full well!
For you created my inmost being;
you knit me together in my mother’s womb.
I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
your works are wonderful,
I know that full well.
Psalm 139: 13-14
It's birthday week around here friends, and we're about to get this party started! =)
