Letters to my sons: from a very white mama to her white sons, on race and current events

Dear sons,

At nearly 2 and just barely past 5 months, you are both blissfully unaware of current events outside of what time lunch is and whether we're going to the playground or not.  You haven't processed #BlackLivesMatter or #ICantBreathe or #Ferguson or #HandsUpDontShoot or #EricGarner, and as a result, your only connection to #EnoughIsEnough correlates to your thoughts on the portions of protein that mommy requires you to eat at dinner prior to getting a cookie.

But there's been a lot going on lately, pertaining to race, in our country, and a lot of the brokenness which has long been there has been thrust into the limelight (again).  And a lot of black people (and a few white people) are hurting, grieving, sad, angry.  And a lot of white people are talking loudly, angry, defensively.  And a lot of other white people aren't talking about it at all.  And a lot of other black and white (and other races of) people fit and don't fit in those categories, so I won't attempt to oversimplify or categorize them - simply acknowledge that they're in the mix also.  Suffice to say, there's a lot of hurt and a lot of brokenness and a lot of mess.

A few days ago, a friend of mommy's wrote a letter to her black son, in her grief and process over recent events, with her promises to him and his white brother.  It was beautiful, and true, and from the heart, and she says so much, so much better than I ever will be able to.   But it also got me thinking, about what I want to teach you both, what I would say to you both, in light of Ferguson, or Eric Garner, or our justice system and race, or any of the many different "incidents" that have happened, both carried by the media and those that remain hidden.

Mommy was raised on a farm, in the middle of the "suburbs" of one of the tiniest towns in very rural North Carolina.  My life growing up, was about as white as it could possibly be.  It wasn't until college that my own "colorblind" lenses began to come off, and I began a very slow journey of learning how other people's lives were different than mine, how skin color or "ethnic-ness" of name still does affect the ways that people are treated and received.  It wasn't until college, and the decade since, that I actually began to listen to other people's stories and learn how to listen first, how to love with words and actions, and how to be actively for someone else whose story was different from my own. I'm still learning, honestly, and I don't always engage well, or even at all.  I am not good at this.  But I am choosing to engage because it matters.  Because it's not just a race issue.  It's a human issue.  And it effects people that I know and love.  And in my bumbling response, I would prefer to ask for grace and forgiveness, than to add my voice to the silence.  And so I do both even now.

Sons, you are both beautiful, beautiful boys - with blond hair and light colored eyes and white skin.  And the way that you are is fearfully and wonderfully made, please make no mistake.   Being white is not a bad thing - it is a good and beautiful thing.  But as a result of your skin color, and the fact that you were born into a middle class, well-educated family, many people would tell you that this "issue" of race or these "issues" are not yours to deal with.  By virtue of your heritage, unfortunately, you have the luxury of choosing whether or not you will engage, before you ever determine how well or poorly you will engage, with anything pertaining to the tattered race relations in our country.

I am pleading with you, please do not buy into this lie.

We pray that you will walk in the faith that your daddy and I have, which teaches that we are called to care for the well-being of our brothers and sisters; that we are a Kingdom of people who retain beautiful and celebrated ethnicity and are not monochromatic; that as a body, when one part is hurting, the rest is hurt as well;  that we are called to use our voices to defend justice, to speak up for the oppressed - but even if you don't - even if our faith does not continue to be yours, the truth is we are human beings, and because of our common humanity, we must long for all men (and women) to be treated with compassion, justice, humanity, and yes, equality.  And in that, I hope you will see the role that you can play, the ways in which your voice can be used, and will chose to engage rather than absent yourselves.

I would entreat you, first and foremost, to listen.  And to listen to understand, not in order to respond.  Hear people.  Hear people who are different than you. Hear their hearts, their hurt, and their desires.  Understand that you might not understand.  Leave your opinions at the door.  And listen first instead.  Regardless of the specifics of either of these cases, please hear the collective weeping and grieving and anger of men and women who are intelligent and wise and experienced, and different from you, and ask "why?" And listen.  If you only do this, I guarantee you will respond differently, even if just with more compassion.  And when the time comes to act - and there almost always is a time to act - ask others who know more than you, who understand better than you, "what can I do?" This applies in any situation where you are seeking to aid someone who is hurting, angry, or grieving.

Along that same vein, please understand that #blacklivesmatter does not infer that white lives don't.  Nor does it infer that being white is a bad thing.  It is not a zero sum game.  No amount of value added or given to another human being detracts from the inherent value that you yourself possess.  So, in as much as it is possible for you, leave defensiveness behind.  Grief over injustice, grief over injustice perpetuated by people who look like you, does not mean that you are being shamed.  It should cause us to examine our hearts, our biases, our actions and our motives, yes, absolutely.  And pray to God that he will change us where we need to be changed.  It should lead to repentance, where needed.  But it should not lead to shame or defensiveness or a sense that we have to lose value in order to recognize the inherent value in one different than us.

But... at the same time, please recognize that there are ways in which our system of government, our history, and our culture, has given you unique welcome and privilege.  You, as white, middle-class, (hopefully) educated men, will have very few rooms that you cannot walk into.  Very few tables at which you will not be welcome to join.  Very few places in which your voice is not invited.  Your odds of a good job, odds of higher financial earnings, odds of incarceration, by no differentiation other than skin color, are better than those of some of our brothers and sisters.  As before, this is NOT to be a place of shame.   Rather, it is a place of invitation.  How will you use your voice and your position?  What will you say?  Who will you speak up for?  Who will you create room for?  And sons, this comes from the bottom of my heart... please please notice, who isn't present.  Please notice, whose voice is not heard.  Not based purely on numbers - but because they are your friends, your neighbors, and your family, that are not at the table.  [Which implies that I hope you actually have real, deep relationships with friends, neighbors and family that are not like you, that you love deeply.  And that's something Daddy and I need to model for you.]  It's not easy.  It takes work.  And it takes thinking outside of yourself and what you want or need or are comfortable with.  But, this, little ones, is the type of men that I pray that you are.  Your strength, your opportunities, and your power are most strong when they are used on behalf of others.

This is my prayer for you.

And sons, beware too much power or authority in any situation.  Untempered, unchecked authority in any situation is dangerous - this is why the US stands so firmly behind democracy, and checks and balances.  Might does not equal right.  Beware any situation in which people in power are given a pass to those checks and balances.  What is just and good and right will stand up to test and has no reason to fear scrutiny.  Beware of this where you find yourself in positions of power.  And do not be afraid to support the authority that you find yourself under, by advocating for it to be checked.  Even if you are the only voice that does so.

Please do not hear what I am not saying - I am not advocating for violence or crime to be unchecked.  As a matter of fact, I'm pretty sure no one is.  Rather, I am longing for the racial inequalities, the unspoken biases, and long standing imbalances in our culture and our systems be addressed. To be changed.  To be healed.  For both white and black, men and women, to be able to have the same faith in our systems, that justice will be served equally, without fear, that right will be done by them.  And I know, from my only deep recesses of ugly fear, my own biases, which I will admit to you in humble repentance, as well as from statistics, and the stories of those I love, that this is not always so.  And I am asking you, sweet boys, to engage, to be active participants in changing this.

Do not be afraid of the ugly - and there is ugly everywhere.  And I guarantee you, if you step into this maze of our tattered race relations in the US, you will see the ugly.  On all sides.  And in yourself.  Corruption, crime, bigotry, hatred, racism, hurt, awkward, misunderstanding, abuse, and centuries of messy history.  If you enter into this conversation with a savior complex and a hope of fixing things, you will quickly becomes discouraged and cynical.

But.

But.  If you enter in, humbly, with a posture of learning, of repentance when needed, and more importantly, listening, and speaking on behalf of others rather than yourself, you will become a small but crucial part of the difference that we long to see happen in our life-time.  You - as listening, speaking, acting, humble, compassionate white men - are a vital part of the changing tide of race relations in the US.  Your voice matters. Your power matters.  You are a part of bringing Dr. King's dream, and Scriptures' imperative (Amos 5), of "justice [that] rolls down like water and righteousness like a mighty stream."

Your daddy and I love you both so very very much.  And we are so proud of you, and the little men that you already are.  And it is our promise to you, that we will continue to learn, continue to grow, continue to engage alongside you.  That we will repent in front of you, and to you.  That we will ask for forgiveness, for grace, and for instruction, from you, and in front of you.  That we will ask for help from those wiser than us as we seek to teach you what we ourselves are learning.  That we will seek to model that which we call you into.  And that we will pray daily for you, and with you, even as we pray for our neighbors and our world.  We will not choose apathy, even when it's easier or more comfortable or fits better with nap schedules.

We love you, sweet boys.  And we pray that in your lifetime, we would in fact see a turning of the tide of race relations in the US.  That justice and righteousness would roll down.  And "culture" and "ethnicity" and "race" would no longer mark disadvantage or different treatment, but would be celebrated as the beautiful parts of the Kingdom to come that they are.

Love,
Mommy

Big and bubbly 4 months!

Wowsa, we are running late over here in Douthit-ville.  My apologies to all who were on pins and needles.   But, since I am also significantly behind on any form of baby-scrapbooking or other photo album, memory keeping journaling [read: haven't done it], and this is my way of doing that in the smallest way - since those things are true, we're going to write it anyhow, even though we are now closer to five months than four!  :)  Regardless...

Happy Four (and a half) months to E!!

Your Profile
At your four month doctors appointment, you weighed in at almost 15.5 pounds - and are off the charts in terms of height! Your length along requires that you are already wearing 6-9 month clothing, even though you aren't chunky! You are long and slender, but you have precious little chub rolls on your arms and legs!  Your doctor says that you're close to on the money for weight, and very healthy, but that if we can fatten you up a little bit, that'd be great too!  You still get up 1-2 times a night to eat, and since we're trying to add pounds to you, that's a good thing!

Things you Learned
This month, you learned how to roll over from your tummy to your back, although you're pretty content to just hang tight and wiggle.  You're also very close to being able to roll from back to tummy.  You learned how to grab toys (and faces and pretty much anything else), you are drooling up a storm and "pre-teething."   You also are starting to notice people more - mostly mommy and daddy - but also other babies and other people, and books and toys.  You are one of the happiest, most smiley babies around most all the time - and we love to make you laugh because it is so stinkin' cute.  You oblige quite readily - for us, or really anyone.  You are starting to be really interested in watching us eat, and as always, very interested in watching your big brother.  You also talk a lot - and love to babble with us!

Your Firsts
You took your first airplane ride this month - flying down to Virginia with mommy for her "hendig" reunion with college friends.  You did great on the flight - except for when our overly friendly seat-mate poked you with her very long fingernails.  But that would made mommy cry too. :)  And you had a fantastic time playing with mommy's friends babies as well as touring University of Richmond and meeting some of mommy's professors.  Super fun to see everyone again!

You started going to the nursery at church this month - which makes it much easier to hear sermons now, since your chatter and wiggles aren't limited to home!  And you also went to the Children's Museum for the first time when your Grandma D was in town.


Things you Like

You still LOVE your johnny-jump-up (and anything that allows you to move around).  You LOVE bath-time, and the silly faces that daddy makes at you - you really, really like your daddy.  You thoroughly enjoy going for walks outside in the stroller, and you still like the Ergo, even though you are starting to prefer to be able to wiggle around and see more.  You're still a snuggle-bug most of the time, and want to be around people always.  Your FAVORITE thing of all is your big brother - you light up so much when he's in the room.  And he loves you a lot too - especially loves trying to carry you and giving you big bear hugs, which you take in good humor!

We love you so much, little man!  We can't believe how lucky we are to have you in our family!  You bring so much joy and delight - and oh so many smiles!

Debriefing #eatingthankful

So this month, I set out with two goals: to blog at least once a week and to take pictures of what we ate for dinner (with a description) every night for a month.  The first is fairly self-explanatory; you can see what I wrote about the purpose of the second goal below:

Goal: take a picture of dinner with description every night for a month. 

 Three purposes for this: 

 [a]. Not only posting pictures of my culinary successes, but also failures, and nights of take-out. Getting out of the mentality of a polished-and-perfect social media image (not quite ready to do a selfie a day or a picture of my house a day, so food-selfies it is). 

 [b] Fostering creativity in the kitchen and forcing me to think creatively and if you do it with me, sharing creativity. 

 [c] a visual representation of gratitude and thanksgiving for the abundance that we do have, even if it's take-out or hot dogs. A reminder that we have the privilege of eating delicious, abundant, diverse food EVERY day, not just on the creative ones. No shaming and no competition intended, just gratitude and creativity. 
 
You can see the album here.  I used the hashtag #eatingthankful and #october_eats to remind me of the purpose of the project.

So here we are, on the 31st of October - and surprise of all surprises, I have been fairly consistent in both goals.  And it's been a lot of fun!  I've appreciated the accountability of having a goal, and will probably continue, at least with the blogging goal.  But I wanted to comment briefly on the dinner pictures goal, because I've noticed a few things, and learned a few things in the process!  

With no further ado, lessons learned:

1) We eat a tremendously varied diet, by in large.  We don't have a lot of repeat meals within a month.  They are bright, colorful, and tasty - and we are fairly creative most days!  I didn't change anything about the way we cook for this project, simply took note of what we already do.  And was pleasantly surprised by the result!

2) We eat in a fairly dark room (living room most nights, lights dimmed so baby can sleep in the next room over).  This makes for not great photo quality (sorry folks!), but does make for easy atmosphere, if we want to make it happen!  Which we don't do most nights, but probably should!

3) The meals that I was most organically thankful for were the ones that were quick and easy - leftovers, take-out,  pizza crust that I could throw toppings on, something I could throw together easily after putting two kids to bed.  This was surprising to me - but makes me want to respond out of that gratitude more.  Rather than feeling guilty over ordering out, or feeling like I *should* cook something - I want to continue to focus on the fact that those are thankful meals.  And let the rest fall to the side..

4) The project made me aware of food - but not in a "should I or shouldn't I be eating this" type of way, or even in a "let's see how pretty I can make it" kind of way.  Rather, it made me notice what was already on the table before me, and look for the beauty in that.  That's something I want to hold on, and continue even though today is the last day that I will take a picture of it.

5) Finally, there were several meals in that mix that were burned, were not ideally flavored, were too salty, or were "flops" by my own and others standards.  But the reality is - on the plate, they looked fine.  They weren't "ideal" but they were nutritious.  They were filling.  They fed my family.  And they were a learning experience for me.  Since I have no ambitions of owning a restaurant or being a professional chef, perhaps rather than bemoaning the "flop," perhaps in the future it is a wiser and more enriching response for me to respond with gratitude rather than condemnation for what I put on the table.  #eatingthankful, if you will.

So, until next time, with or without pictures, we will continue to endeavor to be #eatingthankful with every meal, not just the pretty ones, that we find on the table before us.  This has been a good impetus for gratitude for me, and I highly recommend it!

Birth stories

A few weeks ago, on my weekly run, I found myself contemplating moments or experiences in my life which were actually life-altering.   There were a couple that came instantly to mind (in no particular order)...

• Training for a marathon... and then having to drop out 5 weeks before the race because of injury...
• Getting married...
• Giving birth to both of our sons...
• Choosing to forgive a family member...
• Processing through a hard friendship with a co-worker and learning to relate, forgive and love someone very different from me in the hard work of day-in-and-day-out life together...
• Not being offered a job that I thought I wanted, and out of that, being transferred to Boston...
• A required sabbatical for personal growth and spiritual health...
• The marathon bombings...
• Studying abroad...
• Living with my roommates in college...
• Walking alongside someone very dear to me, struggling with depression...
• ... and many more that I didn't think of during that run or that are inappropriate to mention in this time or place...

[As an aside, it's a good processing experience... I'd highly recommend thinking through it for yourself.  We use the phrase "life-changing" somewhat flippantly, but we all have had those experiences that actually life-changing, some in redemptive ways, and others in ways that we have to work through and strive to find redemption in and from.  Identifying them gives us more perspective on who we are, who we are becoming, what we value, and what we've lost or are grieving.  ]  

All of these have actually - not figuratively - changed my life in some tangible way.

Jon laughs at me, because when I read birth stories (whether I know the person or not), they make me cry - almost every time.  There's something about them that is so beautiful - as life bursts into this world through the hard process of blood, pain, and tears and a newborn is named and declared and presented to the world.  I always have cried; it's nothing new.  But there is a new depth to it now, after having my own babies, because it awakens something in me that reminds me of those precious, hard, glorious moments.  And so I wanted to write out those stories and experiences, for me, for my own reflection, because they were actually life-changing, pivotal moments for me.

If that's not your thing, feel free to stop reading now and maybe reflect for yourself on life-changing moments in your own life!



--

Samuel (S) - January 2013

At 8:30am on a Sunday morning, I woke up with my first contraction - two days past my due date, my first child, but I knew instantly that this was the start of labor.  But I was calm and peaceful, committed to staying home as long as possible, and confident that things would go smoothly.  We debated going to a meeting at church, but decided to hold off, since we weren't sure how the day would go.  Contractions were slow, not super painful, and took a couple breaks.  I ate meals, took a bath, sat on my yoga ball, watched TV, and just enjoyed the day... I was in no rush, and we told no one that labor had started.

Around 4pm, we were talking on the phone with my mother-in-law, who we hadn't told yet that we were in labor, when contractions started to get more intense.  I remember having a hard time breathing through the contractions and trying really hard not to let on on the phone (hard!).  After we got off the phone, we timed again, and were about 3-4 minutes apart, and were starting to get more intense.  After calling the hospital and getting the go-ahead, we headed in, getting there about 5:30pm.  I was admitted in active labor, at 3cm dilated, and checked into our birthing suite.   And yes, we did tell our families at that point that the little guy was on his way!

For the next 6 hours, labor was pretty intense, contractions every 2-3 minutes, and dilating slowly.  I think at 9pm, we were checked at 6cm - but I don't remember much in specific detail.  My doctor was out of town at his son's wedding, so we had the on-call partner in his practice, who was great, but wanted me to be hooked up to the monitors constantly.  My goal was to give birth naturally, no meds, and I knew it would be easier for me to do that if I was able to be up and moving around, and more importantly, spending a lot of time in the labor tub.  Once we worked out a compromise on that, things went fairly smoothly.  And I spent majority of the time in the tub.

From 9-11pm, contractions were every 1-2 minutes and very intense, and I started to feel overwhelmed and like there was no possible way that I would be able to do this.  We were in that lovely phase of labor, called transition, even though I didn't recognize it.  S had also rotated to get through the pelvis, and I was having awful back labor, and in a lot of pain.  I told Jon that I didn't know if I could make it.  I was convinced S would never come out, would be in there forever, and labor would never end.  My body was shaking so badly that I could barely speak (a side effect of labor they rarely tell you about, but totally "normal"), and I was close to using our code word ("tyrannosaurus rex") and asking for pain meds.  Jon was a fantastic birthing coach, talking me through it, helping me with pain management, and affirming that S would not go to college inside my womb ["the doctors won't let that happen"].  Somewhere around 12:15am, he started singing Bon Jovi's "Living on a Prayer"... "half-way there..." and just like that, ["woah-oh"] my water broke... and we dilated very quickly to a full 10 cms.  From there, things moved very quickly.  Within 15-20 minutes, I was ready to push, and after about 45 minutes of pushing, with a little bit of oxygen for me, and a great nurse and husband helping, Samuel was born.  I actually found the pushing part less painful and far more empowering than the rest of labor, because the end was in sight and I knew he was coming that night...

Samuel Howard Douthit entered the world at 1:28am, after 17 hours of labor, covered in meconium (poop), with the cord wrapped around his neck twice.  His first few minutes were a blur, cutting the cord while I was still pushing, calling a specialist to check his lungs, and then, cleaning him up before he was handed to me.  He weighed in at 7lbs, 12 oz, and was beautiful.  He was healthy, alert, contented, nursed very quickly, vociferously hungry, and was ours.  And in an instant, my life changed, as I became his mom.

While everyone does labor differently, I was really grateful that we opted to have a natural labor and delivery - I was up and walking around for nearly the entire duration, and was able to use the bathroom and walk by myself within the hour.  Samuel was alert and able to nurse quickly.  And I think it did make my recovery easier - even though with S, I did have a harder recovery than with E.  It was also incredibly empowering to me, to see that I could do that... that my body could do that...  Never before had I experienced such a level of pain, and never before had I done something that hard, felt that needy and dependent on others, felt that weak and powerless during nor felt that strong and powerful as I reflected back.

Labor with S changed me in three ways: first and foremost, it brought S into the world, a gift that I will forever be grateful for and changed by.  It also gave me a whole new perspective on myself and what I was capable of withstanding and bearing through.  And finally, it gave me a much deeper appreciation for the female body, and how it creates life, sustains life, and then works organically to usher life into this world.  Also, a much deeper sense of reverence for both how natural and beautiful birth is and how insane [and can be scary] it is physically, emotionally, and spiritually.

--

Elijah (E) - June 2014

Because of our positive experience giving birth to S, we decided to follow a very similar birth plan with E.  Two things were different this time around - one, we had another child, and so our flexibility and ability to do things depended on having care for him.  And two, our employment and insurance were changing two days after E was due, so while we would have COBRA, it was on my mind that it would be easier if he was born before things transitioned!

At 4:35am on a Saturday morning (E's due date), I woke up to my first contraction.  We had a good hunch that he was coming soon, as at our 40 week appointment the day before, I was already 3 cms dilated and the doctor said he thought it be sometime over the weekend.   Contractions were mild, and coming every 8-10 minutes, so at 7:30am, we called Jon's mom so that she could begin her 12 hour drive up to take care of S while we were in the hospital and we texted our two friends who would care for S in the interim, if there was a gap between when we headed to the hospital and when she arrived.  Because there were other people who had to plan their days around our needs, and other factors in consideration, I was a bit more angsty that it happen that day.

Throughout the day, my contractions came and went, not really regular, nor particular strong - just enough that I knew they were still there.  But this time, I was antsy and couldn't really rest and relax and "just let things happen."  So we walked a lot, which made them speed up, and I bounced a lot, and took care of a lot of things around the house that needed to be taken care of for S, and we kept people posted.  Around 2pm, contractions were regular around 3-4 minutes and stronger, so knowing that second kids often come faster, we called our friend to watch S, and headed to the hospital.  But, by the time we got there and got checked in, they were moderate again, not regular, and while I was dilated to 4cm already, we weren't in "active labor" anymore.  My doctor, who was on call this weekend, wanted to break my water to speed things up, but because I was committed to a natural labor and delivery, I declined, not wanting to put an actual time clock on the process.  We walked around the hospital for an hour or two, trying to get things started again - and then, when they weren't really picking up, we made the decision to head home to labor there for a while, so that I could eat (can't do that once you check in) and just relax a bit more.  I was exhausted, frustrated, and felt like my doctor wasn't on the same page as me, and felt a little silly for having gone in only to have things stop (*after I had already been through this dance once, I should know better, right?*)

So we went home, put S to bed, ordered a pizza, and I took a bath, amidst tears and disappointment, and stopped timing contractions.  Around 8pm, Jon noticed that I was having much more regular contractions, so we started timing again, and at that point, they were fairly intense and about every 2-3 minutes.  I was hesitant to head to the hospital again for fear things would slow down and stop again, but he persuaded me that it really was time to go again.  We checked in, around 9pm at 5cms, in active labor.

This time around, contractions were not as intense, constantly - and ebbed and flowed - which was easier on one hand, but also discouraging because it made things feel like they were moving much slower.  I spent a lot of time in the tub again, and that was very relaxing.  It was harder, this time around, to let things happen at their own pace... and I was also far more tired, since I had walked so much, and been awake for so long.  The nurse was very encouraging, and kept me going many times.  And because I had done this before, I was comfortable being specific on what I wanted in terms of monitoring, etc.

Around 1:30 or 2 in the morning, my waters broke while in the tub, except for a bubble right by E's head.  I dilated to an 8, but wasn't all the way there.  While that was encouraging, I was exhausted and things became more intense, but didn't seem to speed up.  I was mentally and physically exhausted and kept trying to fall asleep through contractions [right...].  I was very close to using our code word ("Blue Man Group," not sure why?) and asking for an epidural, but too stubborn to go there first.   At 3:20am, I okay-ed the doctor to break the rest of the water sack, telling Jon I was almost at the end of my ability to stay awake and I wasn't sure I had the energy to wait for it to progress.  Labor became significantly more intense and more painful, and I dilated to a 9 fairly quickly and began feeling the urge to push.  All well and good, except for the final little piece of cervix still in front of E's head.  I remember the nurse telling me not to push, and telling her, I was trying not to, but my body was doing it with or without my permission.  The nurse had to manually push it behind E's head, so that he was clear to make his exit - because ready or not, he was on his way.  From there, we paged the doctor, who otherwise we didn't see much of that evening, and with three or four pushes, in less than 10 minutes, E was born - much faster than S, and far less painfully.  With cord still attached, before he was cleaned at all, he was laid on my chest and we got to spend those first few beautiful moments just breathing and enjoying the intimacy of the moment.

Elijah Asher Douthit was born at 3:50am, after 23 hours of labor, weighing 8 lbs, 7 oz - he screamed and wailed when he entered the world, but settled quickly against my chest, and contentedly made his home there - also very quickly rooting to eat.   Even though it was my second time giving birth, there are still no words to describe that moment when you first hold your wee one in your arms.  It's completely indescribable and so instantaneous how quickly the memory of the pain passes.  Like with S, I was up and moving within the hour, and so glad that we had opted for and been able to have a natural birth.

If I were to go back and give myself hindsight wisdom, the only thing I would change is to tell myself not to worry with speeding up labor - that it would happen when it happened, people wouldn't mind, and to save my energy!

Elijah's birth was life-changing for me similarly in that it brought this sweet little snuggle bug into the world and into our arms - I am forever changed having him in our lives.  And our family has expanded and changed yet again, as we grew to a family of four.  While it was only four months ago, it feels like he's always been part of our family.

It was also life-changing for me in a humbling sense - because unlike with S, I think I had an attitude of "I can do this" and "I know what I'm doing" before labor began.  And I was humbled by the ways that it was unexpected, not in my control, and harder than I anticipated, even as the post-partum period was easier.  His first few months have been that as well - I have no room for "been there, done that" confidence - I am continuing to learn that I have to hold things loosely.  He is a different child and different experience than S.  And I am continually learning that I need others, need patience for things to progress at their own pace, and can do a lot more than I thought, on a lot less sleep.  :)

--

With Gratitude for E

This has been an incredibly long weekend.  In our never ending journey of illness (the metaphorical "they" do not lie when they say having a toddler and/or two kids increases sickness exponentially), we have found ourselves celebrating the weekend with not just one, but two kiddos with stuffy noses, coughs and sleepless nights.

Thursday was S's night - in which we spent the hours between 10pm and 2am, wide awake, and most of it, with S crying and vehemently, exhaustedly fighting sleep.

Friday was E's night - in which we were up and eating every 40 minutes and then refusing to fall back asleep in his crib or anywhere except at the breast.  Also crying loudly.

Saturday was a moment of reprieve and tonight has yet to be determined.  Please, Jesus, have mercy.

Needless to say, we are tired. Exhausted really.

And yet, in the midst of all that exhaustion, my presiding emotion this weekend has been one of gratitude and thankfulness.   Maybe not in each moment - what am I saying? Certainly not in each moment.   But as I have held each baby, and snuggled them to wiggly, sneezy, sniffly sleep, I find myself grateful to have the opportunity to hold them, to snuggle with them, to comfort them and to love them each day as well as in those wee hours of the night.  And so poignantly aware that that might not have been our story.

On October 17th of last year we found out that we were pregnant with E.  S was almost 9 months old.

E was a surprise - we were not "trying" - but we were overjoyed.  We knew we wanted to have our kids close together, and we knew it was healthier for me with my medical history if they were born while I was in my 20s. We had actually had a number of conversations about when we wanted to try for #2, but had decided that we would wait a few more months to try, because we knew that Jon would be changing jobs this summer, and we as a family would be going through some life changes as well.  We thought we could plan "better" timing.  We were wrong on that one, BTW.  E's timing ended up being absolutely perfect - but that's another story.  :)

We didn't tell many people - but I shared with a few friends because I was scared and very much wanted people to know, to be able to support us, to pray for us along the journey.

Just over a week later, on October 25th, as we were heading to bed, I began to have horrible cramps, and began to bleed heavily.  The doctor told us there was nothing really we could do... most likely we were miscarrying.  All we could do was wait and see. When we saw the emergency room doctor on the 26th, a year ago today, still bleeding, they did an ultrasound and found the fetal sac, but couldn't find the fetal pole or a heartbeat.  Again, they told us there was a small chance that everything was okay, and we weren't as far along as we thought, but most likely we were miscarrying.  To come back Monday to confirm the miscarriage.

Through it all, we prayed, and our friends prayed.  I prayed specifically for God to be E's God - to give him strength and perseverance, to be his strength and provider - and to love our baby more than we did, whatever that meant.

On Monday, we saw the doctor, took copious vials of blood, and heard "wait" once again.

On Tuesday, we got our first piece of hopeful news.  My HCG levels were still rising - they start to fall when you miscarry.  But the nurse told us, for where the levels were, we should have been able to see something on the ultrasound - and so she warned us again, not to get our hopes up.

And so we waited.  Trying not to hope too much, trying to prepare ourselves for the possibility that of losing this baby, but also trying desperately to hold on to hope.

A week later, we went back to the doctor for a follow-up ultrasound and blood-work, with hearts in our throats and braced for the worst.  And for the first time, at six weeks and a few days, we saw E.  And saw his heart beat.  And I'm crying right now, even just writing those words.  We saw his heart beat.  He was too little even to be able to hear it yet, but we saw it on the ultrasound.  He was alive.  And his heart was beating, exactly as it should.  I have a picture from that day, of E.  He's teeny teeny tiny, but you can see the beginnings of his form, limbs and body.

I don't even have words to express what I felt then, and what I feel again now as I remember it.

I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;  your works are wonderful, I know that full well.[psalm 139:14]

We weren't in the clear yet - I still had an internal bleed that required strict limitations on what I could and couldn't do.  Adios to any form of physical activity until week 12, when the bleed finally disappeared.   It was scary, especially after a relatively uneventful pregnancy with S.  And hard, because with the exception of a few friends and family members, no one knew.  Life around us continued as normal, even while we stood on pins and needles.

But today, that feels like a distant memory.  Today, I am celebrating again, the same as we did a year ago.  I am so thankful that I get to hold that sweet little boy in my arms every day (and night, even the rough ones), even while I am poignantly aware that not every story traverses the path that E's has and grieve with and for those mothers and fathers whose arms are empty today.

Elijah, his name, means "My God is Yahweh" - and his middle name, Asher, means "blessed" or "happy."  Today, as we remember both our early excitement and weeks of fearful waiting, we also testify.  We have seen God be Yahweh, as E's strength, sustainer, and preserver - and ours.  We know that it was not of our power or our prayers or our will that he is with us today - but a gift from God, by His power and strength.  He has brought great joy and blessing into our lives, and we are so grateful to God for the blessing of E that He has given.

... even as we pray fervently for more sleep for all.

With gratitude,
KD

Letters to my sons: on sunrises, beauty, and awe

Dear sons,

It's 7:24am on a Friday morning*.  The child who woke me up when the clock still started with a 5 has already gone done for his first nap of the day.  The other one of you has yet to begin to stir.   It's a cool crisp morning, and the nip in the air makes the sunrise seem so much more beautiful as the first few warm rays creep over the clouds left over from yesterday's rain storms.  Warm coffee in hand, curled up with a blanket - I am sleepy and bleary-eyed, but content.

I remember another morning - now seems ages ago - my freshman year in college when we got up early to drive down to the beach to watch the sun rise.  It was magical, and beautiful, and we did it every year I was in college - but that first time was something special.  It was the first time I had ever intentionally watched the sunrise.  Growing up on a farm, I was often up before the sun rose - but I don't remember ever taking the time to notice it.  And so when I saw it - really saw it, for the first time - it took my breath away.  The first light barely visible over the horizon, the gradually lightening of the sky, and then those first rays which creep out as you watch.  And then all of a sudden, in a sort of symphony for your eyes, the sky crescendos as sun rises into view and brings everything else around it into light.   It is one of the most beautiful harmonies of the earth.

This morning's sunrise wasn't quite that dramatic for me - but it hearkened me back to that day and made me smile with the sweetness of it.

Here's the thing though - the sun rises every day.  And, as it is presently, often I am up before it rises, thanks to you two sweet little alarm clocks.  But I rarely am wowed by it, and honestly, very rarely even pay attention to it.  But still it rises.   It has become simply a backdrop to our busy day-to-days.

So where, pray tell, is your sleep-deprived, bleary-eyed mama going with this?  I promise, I have a point and here it is:  I don't ever want to become so used to the beautiful that it becomes the mundane, simply a backdrop to our busy days.  And since you are both parts of my life that easily can seem routine and regular, I want to take a minute to treasure you both and tell you how beautiful to me you are.

E, when you were first born, we waited for almost 24 hours before you gave us your first good ol' healthy pee.  I remember the waiting to make sure that all of your piping was working the way it was intended to - and the relief when it did, even though there was no reason for concern.  As a result, I get to change 6-7 wet diapers every day.  This is my mundane, day-to-day, but it is also evidence of the good and beautiful way that your body works exactly as it is designed to. All of the intricacy of blood vessels, bones, intestines, ligaments, and tissues - woven together to enable you to grow and eat and learn and play.  It's amazing. You, son, are beautifully and wonderfully made.

S, one day when you were about 2 months old, your daddy realized that he had never checked to make sure you had all your fingers and toes, and a bit sheepishly counted them then.  Sure enough, you have ten beautiful fingers and ten strong toes, and you use them every day to poke, prod, pull, and push mommy.  And to request every little thing that you want, sometimes driving your mommy up a wall.  But son, it is nothing short of miraculous, the way that you are made - the way that each part of your body is there and works exactly as it was made to.  You, son, are beautifully and wonderfully made.

The way that you cry - that your eyes produce tears, that your lungs work to enable you to breathe (and scream), the way that your little hearts beat in rhythm.  The way that your fingers can grasp my hand or pull my hair.  Your silliness and the ways your sense of humor is already developing. The ways that you both can already empathize and feel and emote.  How much you trust your daddy and me.  How love is an expression and emotion and feeling that exudes from you and in those giant bear hugs that you love to give.  And the depth of love, that I cannot even find words to express, that I have for you.

I am so so so grateful to be able to be your mommy.

I am in awe of many things - but there are very few things that amaze me as much as the fact that you were formed and made inside of my belly, that I got to carry you for 9 precious months, and the ways that you have grown since then from so tiny to so beautifully big.  I can't believe that you are ours.

You are both regular, every-day, parts of my life and there are oh so many mundane and regular things that I do to care for you every day, but there is absolutely nothing mundane or ordinary about you.  You are both fearfully and wonderfully made, and I know that full well.  And there is nothing that you can do or not do that will change that.

No matter how many times I have to change your diapers, wash your hands, feed you, pick you up, comfort you when you cry, or hold you as you drift to sleep in the middle of the night.  No matter how tired I am, or how much I grumble about the 5am wake-up calls, or yet another temper tantrum.  No matter how many aspects of day-in-day out motherhood I struggle with (I do and I will) or complain about (I do and I will) - no matter what.  In the midst of all of that, very real, very messy, and very true part of motherhood, no matter what, I want you to always know that you are beautiful to me.  That you are my first sunrise.  That when I look at you, I hear the harmonies that God sings over me.  I see the majesty of the symphony in how you were made.  I am in awe of the story that you get to live.  And I cannot wait to see how the rest of it unfolds.

I love you both, S and E, and I am honored that I get to be your mom every.single.day.

With all my love,
Mommy

*finished during naptime, as a certain toddler needed breakfast RIGHT NOW when he woke up!

on surviving two under two

We're now almost four months into this crazy adventure of two-under-two and I am nowhere near close to wanting to or feeling equipped to give advice.

Can we just pause for a moment, and observe my toddler (almost 21 months old), who is currently wearing bright orange socks with stars on them and a red and blue shirt - no, no, he did not dress himself.  That's mom's doing.  Also, his face is covered in graham cracker crumbs.  And some serious stank coming from the diaper [edit: was - we dealt with that bad boy when we got home].  And yes, we went out in public that way.  No shame, people - this is our normal and we're okay with it.  But also no room for "I've got this" power... :)

Also, the infant (almost 4 months old) - he still has days where he's super colicky and fussy at the breast and it's an all out fight to get him to eat, period.  And I have no idea why or when they'll happen, or how to prevent them.  Also, he categorically refuses every single type of bottle possible.  So you can guess how many times we've gotten to go out on a date, or even just out, since he was born.  May I repeat, no room for "I've got this..." advice.

But that being said, there are a few things that I'm learning make my life easier as I am parenting two, specifically two very close in age.  These have made [are making] a difference in my sanity, as well as my general enjoyment of my two littles, so I share them with you as a reflection as well as in the hopes that maybe they'll be a gift to some of you as well.

(1) Find what works for your family and stick with it

If none of my things are you or your family, for heavens sake, don't do them.  What works for me, isn't for everyone.  We both save ourselves a ton of stress when we recognize that and just get over it.  Do it your own way.  Please.  And let's bless one another to do that.  Verbally, in writing, and in hugs and affirmations.  As parents, we kill ourselves with comparison and guilt.  It's a hard enough job without our negative performance reviews.  Do what works for your family and rejoice that you've found something that is working!

(2) Be okay not doing some things the"ideal" way for a season

There are things that I would love to be able to do right now - like eating dinner all together as a family, or going to story time every week at the library, or having the boys share a room so we can talk above a whisper in our room, or not having cheerios ground into our carpet, to name a few.  Not bad things, any of them.  And one day, hopefully, we'll try to make those happen.  But cycling back to #1, sometimes you have to find what works for your family and stick with it.  For our kiddos, it's better to get time with their daddy after work, and then to bed on time, and better for me and Jon to not have the stress of getting food on the table for us all in that narrow window that is close to their meltdown time anyhow.  It's not our ideal, but it works for right now.  We recognize that it's a season, file it on the long-term to-change list, and rejoice that we've found something that works.

(3) Set really reasonable goals for yourself, for the day, week, etc.  Don't expect too much of yourself, but at the same time, expect something of yourself.

My goal last week - my only goal - was to clean the bathroom.  This being because I think the last time I had cleaned it was in July, before my mom visited - cleaned precisely because my mom was visiting.  That s*&^ needed to be cleaned.  Literally.  But rather than kill myself over it AND add on a million other things, I picked one thing that needed to get done and made a commitment to do it.  Also, recognized that it might take me all week to do it, depending on how these two littles were napping and how exhausted I was and how much I needed to be flexible and do something else with the spare time that I might have.

(4) Make a to-do list (and put easy things on it too) - and then see it more as a "to-remember" than "to-do" list

This is less so that I can guilt myself about what I'm not doing - and more so that I can remember what I really need to do.  Our current status is "still-up-many-times-a-night" and "waking-up-ready-to-go-freakishly-early-in-the-morning." My brain power and memory directly correlate to amount of sleep had.  My to-do list includes items like "wake-up" and "eat breakfast" as well as things like "shower," "pay the rent," "get groceries," and "email V about baby sleep."  Easy things give us something to celebrate when we check them off - and sometimes I need those little victories.  The rest of the to-do list just helps me get my thoughts of my head, making me require slightly less brain-power to operate on a day-to-day basis.

(5) Start all new discipline, parenting practices, goals, etc. on a Monday - and only do one a week (at very very most, two at a time).  Give it the full work week, and then if it's not a great fit for your family, reassess it.  Consider weekends as regrouping time as needed.

I am a goal-oriented person.  I thrive under challenges and goals.  Not everyone is like this, I recognize that.  But I have been known to want to try implementing 80 different goals all at the same time - and then quickly within a day or two, either forgetting what I'm doing, or getting so frustrated by the magnitude of them all that I just drop them or give up.  Starting things on a Monday ensures that (a) I've thought it through (conferred with hubby etc.) and actually want to do it, that it's not a whim, (b) I am slightly more well-rested, gracias a la husband being home all weekend, (c) I have a set period of time that I'm committed to giving it the "old college try" before dropping it cold turkey. Following through for 5 days gets us past the "3 days that it takes to see change" and helps me assess well if it's a good fit once its lost its "newness." Also, my husband tends to be the more "flexible" of us, so in our household, it works better if I can be firm and steady with a new rule or discipline practice for the workweek before he comes home and it becomes more "flexible" over the weekend.

(6) Leave the house at least once a day

This is for my own sanity, health and well-being.  Plus my toddler's and my infant's.  Even if it's just a walk around the block, we all end up feeling and doing a little bit better when we get even five minutes outside of the house.  Also, they can be as loud and rambunctious as they want, which is incredibly freeing for them.  It's a good re-set for us. Also makes it feel less like I am imprisoned in our house by my two tiny, adorable tyrants. But I should add, sometimes five minutes around the block is all it is, because people, packing up two tinys takes a lot longer and a lot more effort that you would think.  Also, muscles.  They are heavy and wiggly and surprisingly strong.  I'm already sweating by the time we make it down the stairs.   Most days, we just go to the exact same playground, at the exact same time of day, and we call it a day.  And they love it [most days]!

(7) Honor the nap and bedtime gods

I'm all about flexibility and getting out of the house and doing my mommy things too.  But when you have two kiddos who are angry, tired, and off-schedule - things can deteriorate way faster.  And two-under-two, the screaming is exponential (not additive) when it happens.  Having a routine really helps me to maintain my sanity, and my kids to maintain theirs.  And strangely enough, it also helps them be more flexible when we do shift the routine slightly.  Plus, on a good day, sometimes I can get an hour by myself.  Glory, glory, hallelujah.

(8) A solid baby carrier makes the world of difference

I love my Ergo and don't know what I'd do without it.  Double stroller is great - but when the toddler is on the run, being fully mobile to chase him, without constantly looking over my shoulder to make sure the baby is okay.  Plus, when E was little little, it would lull him to sleep, keeping him warm and snuggly, while leaving me my hands free for S.  And as hands and sleep are the two things that I most often feel the shortage of, this is a godsend.

(9) Tears happen, temper tantrums happen, and things break... pretty much daily.  And 9 times out of 10, those things happen in public.  The house is messy, and my to-do list always has items left on it. ... and that's okay.  Life is and gets messy.  And kids have PhD's in messy.  Seriously.  They break things, they cry, get sad, get angry, they disobey - and we take care of them, sooth them, hug them, reassure them, and discipline them when needed.  And two?  Well, they love doing things together.  Ignore the ugly looks, and see the others in the room who are smiling sympathetically.  No one else has the formula either.  Parents?  We've all been there.  We get it.  It happens.  It's just part of being parents.  Learn to laugh at yourself and it will go a long way.

And sometimes, they have abysmal days.  Abysmal.  Together.  Yay sharing!  Often following or followed by a night with very little sleep.  That doesn't mean that I (we) are doing a bad job as parents.  It just means they're being kids and we're being parents.  We take a few minutes, shed a few tears, pick up the pieces... look for the humor in the situation, and pour ourselves a big ol' glass of wine once bedtime comes.  And rejoice that not every day is like that.

... and let the mice eat the cheerios and clean up the mess.  Because (a) the vacuuming wasn't the top priority this week and (b) they need to eat too, and (c) buying mousetraps is on your to-do list for tomorrow.

Fails: always more to the story

So, continuing with the real talk, let's talk about image...

I've been thinking this morning about the story that my facebook feed tells... lots of pictures, lots of kiddo stories and posts, awkward moments (because who doesn't love those) and quite a few mommy commentaries or descriptions of what I'm doing in the moment.  Right now, I've given myself two challenges for the month of October - blogging at least once a week, and taking pictures of each dinner that we have for a month.  So, this month, my newsfeed is also covered in blog posts and dinner pictures that, at least this week, look pretty tasty.  Which, if you'd like to join me in either challenge, please do!  I'd love to link up!  Either way, lots of positive things, cute pictures, and "wins" are making their appearances on my wall.

Which are real life - and I'm proud of that!  The food picture challenge comes out of a desire to be creative and grateful with and for what we have and get to eat daily.  Honestly speaking, our food budget is very tight right now, and so I have to be creative - and to build my gratitude, and to require me to be a bit more creative, I'm trying to do so intentionally.  And I'm proud of myself for that!

This morning, I posted a picture of myself and kiddos following a two and a half mile run, with double jogging stroller - I'm also proud of that!  Running with a toddler in tow adds a whole new level of interactivity and conversation needed mid-run.   Try carrying on an animated conversation about the orange tree leaves when you're out of breath from pushing 50 extra pounds. Also, for the record, we pointed out every single puppy and squirrel possible, as well as said hello (*gasped hi*) to everything that looked even remotely human.  And let me tell you, that requires some effort!

All that to say, I'm not apologetic for those posts.  Nor all the cute pictures of my kiddos.  Those are part of my life these days and it's good.  Very good.

But for each mommy win, or each Kristen achievement, there are also mommy fails and pictures that I don't post.  There are also days that don't make me look good, and days where my kids are more covered in temper tantrums than cute adorable grins.  So, in the spirit of being real, let's talk about some of those, shall we?

... Let's talk about the fact that I have considered apple pie, brownies and ice cream my "first lunch" of the day every day this week.  And don't think that was as a replacement for lunch.  No no.  That was simply the first course.  Just finished it a few minutes ago.  Will be getting "main lunch" shortly.

... Can we talk about the fact that on Monday, I had to call my husband crying because the baby was so colicky and so screamy at the breast that I couldn't convince him to eat and it had been all.day. and I was exhausted from fighting to get my over-hungry, over-tired baby to eat, and we both were crying, and I needed someone else to be the grown-up for a little bit.  

... Can we please please talk about postpartum hair loss and how it's getting a little ridiculous.  Like, by the handful. After handful.  After handful.  I had forgotten about this element of having a baby, but it's not pretty.

... How about the fact that there's a mom at the playground whom I have never talked to, because I was too shy and/or was too overwhelmed by my babies to take the initiative at first (she never started conversation either), and now she's convinced that I hate her and loudly tells her friends that every time we're both at the playground.  And rather than be a grown-up and either say hi or just not let it bother me, I avoid the times that I know she'll probably be there.  This from someone who prides herself on handling conflict well.

... Or the fact that my toddler is not really allowed to watch TV or play on the computer or phones, but I am fairly constantly glued to mine?  (Even after I talk about the value of being unplugged).

What's my point?

It's not that I suck.  Nor is it to tout some idea that we should stop posting "wins" on our facebook feed - those are good and to be celebrated.  And honestly, I really don't want it to be a "we're all human and messy too!" type of post, even though that's true too, and it's kind of turning into that.  I think what I'm going for, and what I mean is this:

There's so much more to the story than just what shows up on our newsfeed.  For most highs, there are lows too.  For everything we want you to know about us, there're equally more that we're hoping you won't guess or don't know.  We should celebrate the highs, absolutely - and within an appropriate context, we should share the lows and fails too.  (The internet might not be that, just sayin.)

But for everyone, as we read through people's feeds, we should do so with eyes that recognize that there's always more to the story.  Which most certainly means more compassion and grace for the other person.  But it also means more compassion and grace for ourselves.  We are the only ones who get to know our whole story, good bad and ugly and really ugly - we are the only ones who know just how not together we are.  For anyone elses' story - both the seemingly beautiful and the seemingly ugly - there is always something that we don't know, or might not guess.  We're all in this mess together.  Yup, totally turned into that.

May we have grace for others, grace for ourselves, renewed words of encouragement and camaraderie, and an increased ability to laugh at ourselves and with others.

starting with relationship...

So can we speak candidly for a few?

Yes?

[I'm going to pretend you said yes]

Great!

I had a realization earlier this morning, and I want to share it with you...

I realized that I have been wrong.

Perhaps as a bit of background, I should clarify that I was a campus minister at three different universities for a total of 5 years - that following 3 years of leadership in a campus ministry during my own college tenure.  I led countless small groups, Bible studies, and outreaches on campus.  I have planned curricula, trained leaders, picked up the pieces when things fell apart, and seen tremendously successful small groups take root.

And every so often, I would get a leader who would come to me and say something akin to "I don't think I want to study anything; I think it would be cool if we could just hang out and get to know each other."

[*red flag* *red flag* *break out the big folder and long list of reasons why this is a bad idea*]

So we would painstakingly go over why as a group it's important to have a purpose and a vision, and how friendship happens alongside vision and purpose and a study or curricula.  How groups without vision fail.  How groups, of any nature, without purpose fizzle.

And I don't think that's inaccurate.  A good group must have purpose.   A sports team that doesn't play games, or doesn't want to win games, really doesn't play particularly well.  Or at all.  A political group without affiliation or activity just debates all the time and then gets angry and leaves.  A volunteer group without a project - yup, you guessed it - gradually loses interest until it too dissolves.

But.  Here's where I think I have been wrong.  When it comes to intimacy and vulnerability and deep friendships that are life transforming - within Christian community and otherwise - I don't think that real, vulnerable friendship happens organically alongside vision and purpose [sometimes they do, but that's more often than not, the exception, not the rule].

I'll stand by, groups must have vision and purpose.

But I am learning, if there is not intentional space for friendships to be built - unstructured time of *hanging out and getting to know one another* with *no plan* - even the most vision-filled, purpose-driven group will dissolve into a muddle, when trust is needed and isn't there.

[Some of you relational types are rolling your eyes.  Grace, please.  I'm slow sometimes. I know.]

Real community, real vulnerability, and true intimacy take work - hours of grace, truth, and, most importantly, time.  And when we push forward with purpose without trust or vulnerability from solid relationship, we are short-lived as well.

I've been hanging out with a lot of moms these days - I am one, and there are few people other than moms who are willing to hang out with opinionated toddlers and sometimes screamy infants, around the ever-changing-but-ever-important nap schedule.  If you are one of those people, bless you.  You're rare and oh so appreciated.   But one of the things I've been realizing about moms is that we are often profoundly lonely people.  We are constantly surrounded by little grabby fingers who never.leave.us.alone.  and little people who keep up a running conversation with us so much so that our deepest wish is just some time to be truly alone.

But in the midst of all that noise, who we are can often feel forgotten.  Or missed.  Our gifts, our skills, our experiences outside of having kids, our "me," is often morphed into simply "S's mom" or some other expertise or practice surrounding our children.  Even our conversations, when not at a child-level to our children, are often about our children.

Sometimes, even deeper than the desire for some alone time, we want nothing more than to be seen ourselves.  For ourselves.  To be known.  And to be able to share our fears, our desires, our hopes, and our dreams - as they pertain to our children, but also as they pertain to ourselves.  But the space to do that - especially in mom-world, where we're so afraid that we're constantly messing up, and sure that we're being judged for it, and simultaneously constantly comparing ourselves to others, for better and for worse - is freakishly hard to find.  So often times, things stay at a superficial level.  Cloth or paper, formula or breast, store-bought or baby-led, sleep? What?

And this is true - often especially true - in the church as well.

I'm not saying that I want a group that doesn't study the Bible - in fact, find me a mom's or women's Bible study that actually studies the Bible well, and I will be thrilled (but that's another post).  Women's - and moms' - groups need to have vision and purpose.  110%.  Yes, please.  It cannot, and should not be, all mushy gushy feelings, cupcakes and knitting.

But right alongside that "larger" vision and purpose, we need to prioritize and make space for us to get to know each other.  Focus on, with our words as well as our time, building trust and creating space for relationships to be built, not simply to aid in our goals, but as a stand-alone goal itself.   And often.  Within the context of the already limited time that we have, not outside of it.  Preferably with childcare provided. :) And leaders?  We need to take the initiative on this one, in vulnerability, allowing ourselves to be known, and getting to *really* know others.  Goals are great, but they are actualized by someone [known as a leader] taking the first step.  Ready for it?

Maybe - this is radical - maybe, even if someone is in our midst, and learns nothing.  Nothing. from our Bible study or our plan or our curricula, the simple fact that she has felt seen, and known and loved, will be so radically different that the relationship itself will be the start of transformation.

I think this matters for us to get this.  I think it matters for me.  I think it matters for you.

Otherwise we will continue to be stellar participants who continue to keep our pretty, clean faces on [so that we're not judged too much for our child's face which is currently stained purple with permanent marker] and vulnerability will be a rarity and even slightly awkward when someone dares to "go there."  And we'll leave having prayed for our ailing cousin's friends (which matters!) but with a slight ache in our hearts that always seems to wish that it was *safe* to share what we were struggling with or hoping for.

And we all want more than that.



** Certainly there are exceptions to the rule - and other applications - but I do this is something that we can all consider and potentially grow in.

Happy 3 Months to E

Happy 3 months (a week late!) to E!  We can't believe how fast you are growing up little man! :) (And growing bigger you are! At your last doctors appointment, you weighed in at a solid 14 lbs 12 oz and 24.5 inches long!)

Highlights of your month:

- First time (not yet repeated) sleeping through the night - followed by a solid sleep regression :-P
- Getting your two month shots - not your favorite!
- Getting your first bout of pink eye ("worst she's since in quite a while" according to your doctor) and needing your first antibiotics.  You were happy as a lark, albeit very goopy for quite a few days!
- Visiting mommy's old work to meet her co-workers - you were deemed dressed "HBS appropriate!" in your tie and onsie!  They said they would consider your application...
- Daddy's work BBQ - you were a hit with his co-workers
- Apple Picking in western MA - you slept most of the time! but we had a great time!
- A few successful car trips, sans screaming! WOO!

A snapshot of you this month:

- You are laughing and smiling a ton these days!  In fact, most mornings when you get up, you are so busy smiling at mommy that you forget to eat! Socializing often takes first priority over everything else!

- Bath-time is still your favorite time of the day - you LOVE the water and splash and chortle and laugh almost the whole time!

- You are really a talker - you love to chatter, and when you're awake and happy, do so fairly constantly!  You also are quite capable of telling us when you are angry or displeased - or when your brother is infringing on your space!  You can "make a noise" very well and howl when you're unhappy.

- Your tummy continues to be pretty gassy, making at least one feeding (most days, two) pretty uncomfortable for you, and pretty deafening for us.  We're still trying to figure out how to help you through that, as well as how to get you to take a bottle!

- You have slept through the night once now (from 11p-7a) - personal record to date is 9.5 hours - but in the last few weeks you have regressed back to waking up regularly every 4 hours and in general have two feedings after we put you down at night.  We are looking forward to a return to longer stretches, hopefully soon!  You sleep most nights from 6:30 till 6:30.

- You have never really taken a paci, but this month, you have started really sucking on your hands to sooth yourself...  and you're doing a great job putting yourself to sleep for naps!

Things you love:  your Johnny-Jump-Up, bath time, getting your diaper changed (and in general, any excuse to ditch your clothing), walks and runs in the stroller (you get the lower deck!), smiling at mommy, chewing on your hands, your big brother's giggles, and watching football with daddy!

We love you so much, little man!  And we are loving watching you grow into your own person, month by month! :)

Life with Two under Two: Or Fire Hydrant chased by Fire Engine

Life as a mom of two: go.

Yesterday, I made the mistake of thinking that I could go downtown, taking the T, for some mommy time, in the middle of nap-time. [Because as life would have it, almost every mommy thing is schedule right in the middle of when my children sleep.] Foolish foolish mistake.  Cardinal rule of being the mother of two: you do not mess with nap-time.  That is known as sanity time.  The blissful, peaceful return of only having to manage and sooth one child, and or the rare and occasional moments of total alone time if both babes happen to be a-bed.  Glory, Glory, Hallelujah.  Do not mess.

But yesterday... oh yesterday... I did.

S had a great time playing with other kiddos and didn't want to leave.  He thinks the nursery is the greatest thing ever invented.  AND they have snacks!  #win

E fell asleep in the Ergo during the Bible study, and was peacefully quiet most of the time. #win

YES! Win!  Go mommy go!  Oh but wait...

As we boarded the T for our ride home - 3 stops then a 10 minute walk, we were literally that close - eldest son cracked under the pressure of being now an hour late for his nap and becoming hungry and decided that he must.have.crackers.NOW.  And all of them.  And commenced a nasally, whiny, pleading that sounded suspiciously like a fire engine was chasing me down the train car.  Add in the bright red flashing beacon from the glares of fellow passengers, and I'm pretty Station 9 would have welcomed us in with open arms.

At which point, youngest son awoke from his peaceful slumber, overdue to eat, and quite peeved to be made wait.  He's a very peaceful child, very patient, except for when he's not.  And when he's hungry and or tired, and not getting what he wants, well that qualifies as one of those times.  So he begins to scream.  The red-in-the-face-arching-his-back-not-really-taking-breaths kind of screaming, which no amount of shushing or bouncing will calm down.  All he wants and needs in that moment is to eat.  Which you can't really do in the middle of a moving car, when your stop is the next one.

But hey, my body is super responsive to my wailing child, and very good at producing milk, so in the middle of this bedlam, both breasts begin spouting milk, rather like a fire hydrant, staying with our theme.  And of course, my bra and super absorbent pads have shifted, due to said arching-screaming child, so, you guessed it, my little geysers were visibly gushing, soaking me, my shirt, and my screaming child with a waterfall of milk, as the passengers on the train watched in horror.

Guys, I'm pretty sure in three stops, I managed to clear out an entire train car.  And the 3 poor souls who were too nice or too lazy to move either stared in horror or developed an obsession with their shoes and the gum stuck to the train floor.

Longest 17 minutes ever.

By the time we made it home, all three required wardrobe changes, all three were exhausted, and I might have made a s'more for my lunch.  Just sayin'.  And I might have vowed that I was never leaving the house with both ever again.

BUT. The reality is, I will.  I need to.  Those grown-up moments are needed, even if they are costly to have.  The reality is, not all days are that crazy.  The truth is that there are many days filled with laughter as one boys chortles collapse the other boy into an uncontrollable giggle fest in return or we all bask in the fading summer sunlight as the trees begin to turn [for the record, these are probably the moments that you'll see showing up on my facebook newsfeed] or one learns how to say the letter P and says it on repeat over and over and over again, spitting in his delight every time.

The truth is, days like yesterday are just part of the story.  And I tell them because even though they're not the pretty part - though like yesterday, sometimes they're the comic relief - they are a vital part.  A rite of passage sometimes.  A growing point, as I am reshaped and molded in my own character and ability to roll with the tide.  The stuff that adventures are made of definitely. Something to laugh about later (because it is pretty darn funny!) absolutely.  Kids come with all sorts of crazy, bring out all sorts of crazy in me, and require all kinds of creativity.  And two just makes that even more so.

But never before have I enjoyed so much laughter, even if half of it is just having to laugh at our crazy, because otherwise, how do you make it through the days? And life is richer as a result, and I am freer as a result.

We survive the crazy and they grow older day by day until one day we turn around and they're all grown up, and these moments of crazy are fond memories of days gone by.  Or so I've been told by every grandma who stops me on the T, amidst my sometimes screaming children and tells me, barely audibly over said children, to treasure these moments.  And I do.

Even if it's through tears of laughter in the moment, as I geyser my way home, chased by my little red beacon and my noisy little fire engine.

grace sung over me.

This was one of those mornings for the toddler.

One of those mornings where the smallest thing can set him off, where he wants what he wants RIGHT NOW, and where he only has one volume [and it's not calm and quiet].

One of those mornings where you watch the clock and pray that nap-time (a) comes soon and (b) comes with a reset button.

About an hour before nap-time this morning, after two snacks, creative play options, lots of attention, and lots of stories, lots of hugs and kisses, he lost it again.  I don't honestly remember what it was over... it might have been graham crackers or me not giving him the appropriate item that he wanted right.this.minute, or something else, I'm not sure. But there we were, wailing, screaming, and stomping feet in the kitchen, unable to be settled.  At a point where he needed a reset badly, discipline was needed, and I couldn't hear myself think for all the din.

And I was angry.  Frustrated by my screaming, selfish [what toddler isn't?], toddler who was angry and determined that he needed whatever it was and unable to be placated or moved.  Frustrated that with all my attempts to calm him down, to meet his real needs without giving in to his less than healthy desires [like being able to touch the 350 degree oven with his bare hand], that he was still screaming at me.  And I needed to decide a course of action, of discipline, that fit with the strong-willed temper tantrum.  That recognized his tiredness, but that established that current behavior was unacceptable.  But I was too angry to do that with a level head - and first rule of good discipline is try everything possible not to do it out of anger.

So I did what any good parent would do - I put him on the floor, told him to work it out, and got out my measuring cups to make pumpkin bread, and began to sing so that I could tune him out to give me a few minutes to think rationally and decide a course of action.

I began to sing "Amazing Grace."

Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound,
That saved a wretch like me.
I once was lost but now am found,
Was blind, but now I see.

And as I sang, I found myself near tears, as I heard the words through my toddler's temper tantrum.  But deeper than that, as I began to see myself in his temper tantrum, and hear the Lord singing those words over me.

How many times am I likewise unable to be placated or moved? Screaming [internally] and selfishly insisting on whatever it is that I am determined that I need? Ardently demanding what I have decided I must have [unhealthy or dangerous or even unneeded that it might be] while completely missing all of the things that He gives out of the abundance of his good love for me.  Tears streaming down my face, fists shaking in the air, feet stamping the ground... a wretch like me... was lost... was blind...

But now I see.

As my God sings Grace over me.

Grace which is not the punishment my disobedience deserves.  Grace which is good gifts beyond mercy from my just discipline.  Grace which comes in the midst of and over my flailing arms and hot tears and determined insistence that I don't need it.  Grace which calls me back to obedience.  Grace which disciplines me, even as it reminds me of the Father's love for me.  Grace which rescues me from myself.  Grace which sings over me, wooing me home.  Grace which promises good to me, hope, my shield, and my portion - better than my richest self-centered demands.  Grace which gives sight to my eyes, and shows me the ways in which to walk.

Grace which I have received, many many times.  Grace which I know, but often forget.

Somewhere in the middle of that first verse, sung on repeat, just like that, my toddler stopped screaming, and began to play contentedly by himself on the floor by my feet, "baking" with his cheerios and a measuring spoon.   The moment of needed discipline had passed*, and his mood and behavior had returned to a healthy balance [for the moment].  Amazing grace sung and received.

But the one who had received grace, and been reminded of grace again, was me.

T'was Grace that taught my heart to fear.
And Grace, my fears relieved.
How precious did that Grace appear
The hour I first believed.

Through many dangers, toils and snares
I have already come;
'Tis Grace that brought me safe thus far
and Grace will lead me home.

The Lord has promised good to me.
His word my hope secures.
He will my shield and portion be,
As long as life endures.

Yea, when this flesh and heart shall fail,
And mortal life shall cease,
I shall possess within the veil,
A life of joy and peace.

When we've been there ten thousand years
Bright shining as the sun.
We've no less days to sing God's praise
Than when we've first begun.



* obviously appropriate discipline is needed at times, with the end goal of a softer heart and better behavior which flows out of that. Sometimes love and grace demonstrated bring us to that goal, sometimes time to work it out is the answer, and sometimes, correction by the parent is needed.  For our children, we strive to discern with wisdom (and not in anger), which one it is for the situation at hand.