My Momma Prayer

Every night at bedtime, 

I carry you into your room.

I change your tiny diaper,

As you lay on your keekaroo.

I undress you from your playtime clothes,

And kiss your perfect tummy.

You let out laughs and giggles,

And think your momma is funny.

I dress you nice and warm,

In your night-night jammies.

Then I shut off your bedroom light,

And instead turn the stars on your Lambie.

You nurse in my arms,

I hold you tight.

Then, I swaddle you in your blanket before I turn off your night light.

We walk and bounce around your tiny room to the sound of your lullabies. 

You suck on your paci and hold onto your bunny,

Until you close your eyes.

Then we sit together in your rocking chair.

As you rest peacefully,

I can't help but stare.

The way the light hits your face,

Your chubby little fingers,

Your sleepy smiles and tiny toes

Are only a few of the thousands of things that I hope to remember.

When I know that you're sleeping and we end another day,

I listen to the sound of your soft breath.

Then, I slowly begin to pray.

Some days are good while others are better. 

But, there's never a day that goes by,

That I don't thank the Lord that He brought you into my life.

Being a mom is the hardest thing I've ever had to do.

I worry about every little thing and try with all my might,

So that you never question how much you are loved when you go to bed each night.

I pray that you're happy.

That God gives you a deeper joy.

And that you grow up to know Him and His love in your life, baby boy.

I pray for your future,

Your mind and your heart,

That you're smart and successful and I've done my part.

I pray for your wife.

That her parents raise her right.

That you both make wise decisions, and faith becomes your sight.

I pray she loves you just as much as I do, if not more.

That she makes your house a home.

She builds you up with respect and support,

And you cherish her as your own.

I pray for your marriage,

The foundation on which it is made.

That neither of you take lightly that vows that you say.

I pray your love lasts and brings you more joy than you can fathom,

And she will become part of our family.

That we will gain our daughter, rather than losing our son.

I pray for your family.

That one day you'll feel in your heart,

The amount of love you can bear when your child enters your arms.

I pray out of selfishness,

That I get to be a part of the big and small.

And if ever you need someone, I will be there for it all.

I pray for your health,

That you will live a long life that is free

Of sickness, turmoil, or disease.

I pray for this world,

That it will be a better place.

That the leaders of this country,

Will be filled with God's grace.

Every night I whisper my dreams and my fears,

My heart becomes overwhelmed and my eyes fill with tears.

I end my prayer the same every time.

Above all else, it is my plea

That you will always know how much you are loved by me.

I lift your sweet body and kiss your sweet cheek,

I carry you to bed and say "goodnight" and "sweet dreams."

As I lay you down and tuck you in warm,

I give all of my worries and cares over to the Lord.

The greatest joy I've ever known,

Came the day that you were born.

The Dance

Hours.

He had been crying for hours. Somewhere over the course of the evening, my sanity left and I could no longer hear myself think. I became a robot as I tried the normal "fixes". Feed, change, bounce, rock, repeat.

Nothing seemed to overcome the screams as his face darkened to a new shade of red. His temper kicked in and he had made it over the edge-to the point of no return. I turned on the glorious vacuum, partially because it soothed him, partially to drown out the noise. Why wouldn't he just go to sleep? I knew he was fighting it. All I could do was dream of my own pillow and its welcoming embrace.

As I rounded the corner to his room for what seemed like the thousandth time, I pressed repeat on his lullabies and held him to my chest.
My movement slowed and so did his crying. I could feel him calming down-giving into the tiredness. Then, I waltzed him around the tiny 5'x5' square between the rocker and the changing table. I listened to the sappy words of his lullabies as he melted into my arms.

The green stars of his little lamb flashed across the room, and for a moment all I could do was thank God for this time with him. Time stood still as I danced with him in my arms. But, I knew morning would come too soon and life would keep moving. Just as quickly as first smile, first laugh, first tantrum, first time to hold up his head came, his life would be full of firsts that came before I was ready.

One day, he will have his first kiss with a girl that will take my place. They will share secrets and bond. He will no longer melt in my arms. He will embrace her. He will choose to spend his life by her side, say "I do", and give her the first dance.

As the soft light fell across my baby's tear drenched cheek, I cried. I imagined him standing over his momma on his wedding day. The day will be a blur, the music will play, and I pray time will stop for just a moment so I don't feel him slipping from my fingers.

Be Available. Be Present. Be Still.

As a first time mom, I am becoming more and more aware of the needs of my child. At first, there was a quiet desperation as I brought home a tiny human that solely depended upon me. When he cried, I cried (literally). When he smiled, my heart grew ten times its size. My life was turned upside down as a single person changed my life forever. 

After almost 45 hours of labor, the visitors started pouring in. I was exhausted. Then, off to our house where we were left to fend for ourselves. Despite their best intentions, family made things so much worse. The constant visits and interruptions came during a time we just needed to bond. Not to mention, I never allowed myself time to heal. How could I with the demands of a newborn? 

The days seemed to run together as sleep disappeared. I felt myself slipping away as I tried to juggle everything. I felt guilt sink in as I loved my son so much yet hated what my life had become. I was lost. I couldn't shower, eat, or sleep. My mind never stopped thinking-worrying. The passing judgments on my parenting choices and potential risks that others shared, only worsened matters. Fear creeped in.

My precious son screamed regularly, and there was absolutely nothing I could do to console him. I felt inadequate. Why wasn't anything working? All I ever wanted was to be a good mom, but I can't even make him happy. The crying worsened and in between the normal fussiness of a baby came the shriek that made my heart ache. 

Nursing was awful. It wasn't just the pain of getting used to things, but it took over our entire lives. He wouldn't latch, he would wriggle too much, I couldn't hold him right, he wanted fed all the time, he would eat and immediately want more, he would make himself sick yet he would scream if I didn't cooperate, and I just couldn't get it. I found myself changing everything I ate (which wasn't difficult since I couldn't find time to eat during the day).

Those first weeks seemed endless-a blur. Trying to be a "good wife", I continued to push my needs aside. Then, when I voiced my pain to a sleep deprived/work driven husband, I hit a roadblock. I needed my husband. I resented him not wanting to hold him the second he walked in the door. All I wanted was a shower most days, but even that seemed like too much to ask for. I tried to adjust to the demanding lifestyle of a new mom by myself. I felt alone-misunderstood. I continued to become more and more exhausted. There was no time to catch up on rest. 

Then, it happened.

I turned off the lights, turned on his "stars", played his lullabies, fed and swaddled him-and my world changed. I bounced around the room, paced back-and-forth, waltzed to the music, and sat down to rock him to sleep. I watched as his eyes slowly closed and felt his body calm down. Then, I kissed his cheek as he smiled back at me. In that moment I knew everything was going to be okay.

Somewhere between the endless crying, countless questions, doctor's visits, and feeling defeated there came a time when I began to allow myself grace. I stopped looking in the mirror and getting frustrated. I stopped caring if I had the same clothes on that I had on the day before (or before that). I allowed the laundry to pile up. And, when he cried I began to know what to do. I realized he had lonely cries in the night when he wanted to be held. When someone else had him, he cried for me. He had a cry for needing changed and one for hunger. I knew when his tummy hurt-when he needed his legs held, had to burp, or just needed to be consoled until he felt better. Then, I recognized his sleepy cry. 

Rocking became "our thing". Within minutes, I could hold this precious boy and rock him to sleep. It was easy to think of the millions of things that needed to be done-to be tempted to try to put him in his crib. But, as those weeks turned into months I realized how fast time had slipped through my fingers. He began to outgrow his first clothes and my arms began to get tired. My baby boy was growing up.

How does it happen so fast? I had prepared myself for this and told myself to capture every day. I had thousands of pictures and my memory was strong. Still, as I flipped through pictures of those first days I saw how much he had changed. I began to forget what happened on which days. Then, one night I felt my heart ache as I realized I don't want to miss a thing. I felt God's whisper say, "Be available. Be present. Be still."

I realized I needed to be there-physically there for my son. And, when I'm with him I need to be "there". He needs to see my eyes, feel my touch, and hear my voice. Then, I need to be in the moment. Stop worrying about what is next or having a plan. Stop thinking about the things that aren't getting done. Instead, be there to hold his hands, listen to his laughter, and-in the quiet- thank God for every breath.

I no longer wanted to get through the day-I wanted to cherish it. Instead of wishing for him to fall asleep all day, I prayed that I could be who he needed me to be in the moment. I began to pay attention to his smiles, tiny voice, and if he needed to be held, I held him. 

Before I knew it, he began to thrive. Our days began with so much joy as I woke him up each morning. Nursing got easier and we finally figured each other out. Routine started to develop and I gained more confidence in my abilities. He cried less and so did I. He began smiling more, playing, and laughing. We would end the day with the same smiles we started with. Each day was better than the last. 

As I hold my "almost 10 week old" I am in awe of how much love I can have. My heart feels so much fuller because of him. I worry about making the world better because of him. I can't kiss him enough. He made me a better person. For all those longing for motherhood-never give up. For the new moms struggling to get through each day-you are enough. And for anyone that is rushing through life and wondering where it went-slow down. Our families are far too precious not to give them our best. 

There isn't a day that goes by that I don't thank the Lord for Dash. 

2016

Dear 2016,
It is difficult to think I am meeting you so quickly. I mean, it was just yesterday that I greeted 2015 with open arms and now I'm saying goodbye. 2015 brought with it a lot of changes. We made it to the end of our fertility struggles as we completed a long process of IVF, we saw our sweet baby for the first time, we found out we were welcoming a little boy into our family, we spent months in pain-sicker than we could have ever imagined, we wrapped up the sorrow with our hearts full of joy and our arms full of the sweetest son, we spent time as a family-learning how to adjust, and we celebrated with loved ones. It is hard to think of you being able to fill 2015's shoes, but I have hope in you. I'll do my best to hold up my side of this relationship by putting my best foot forward. I pray to be a better wife, to be the best mom to my baby boy, and to be a witness of the great love of Christ. I pray I can be available, be present, and be still to receive all the blessings you are sure to bring. I hope you are just as memorable as my friend, 2015. So, here's to you and what is to come!

Imperfect Human

If I were to be honest with everyone, including myself, I would say that it has been hard to trust Christians in my life.  Despite growing up in church, I admit that I don't know if I have had a clear illustration of what being a Christian looks like.

I watched the elderly gossip and live in a "my way or the highway" mentality.  The parents desperately searched for answers to raise their kids to "ask Jesus into their heart" and then they were off the hook for the remainder of their parenting.  Young adults developed a "it could always be worse" attitude when reflecting on their own lives, and teens would question how much sin they could get away with before it is "too much".  The preteens would continue to do whatever they could to "fit in" whether that meant getting an invite to the party on Saturday or knowing the church answers on Sunday.  Kids were kids and parents made excuses as they were either afraid to "spare the rod" or afraid to not "let them be little".

As a brand new parent, one that hasn't even laid hands on my babe yet, I am sure I will one day "eat my words" as my family has told me.  However, I set out to be intentional about some very important things when it comes to bringing up my son in a confusing world.

It has been heavy on my heart as I have watched those around me open up about the reality of their lives as adults.  Just within the past few months, I have received criticism for having such "high standards" from the very Christians I grew up with.

Would you ever tell your little girl to lower her standards to be treated with love, respect, dignity, and value?  Would you ever tell her that she needs to settle because it is unrealistic to expect someone to care about her needs above their own?

I have watched people I admired from a distance become increasingly imperfect as the masks have come off.  The families that I thought had everything, have brokenness & separation.  They have put down their own family members for the outcomes they have caused from choosing to accept the things of the world.  They have pushed people away out of fear of confrontation.  They have tried everything to look perfect on the outside, but in the quiet of their homes are living a lie.  They have tried to keep up the appearance, becoming more materialistic with each passing day. They have lowered their standards to fit in, and even made excuses to make themselves look better.  They have criticized those that uphold higher standards for being "judgmental" or "non-accepting" because they choose not to participate in their acts.

I am in no way claiming to be perfect.  In fact, I am an imperfect human.  The difference is, I recognize my need for God and strive to be better because of it.  The hardest part about thinking about raising a child is trying to hold them to be more Christ-like rather than being a Christian.  It is daunting to think that even the people they may look up to, may not provide them with the right direction. It is my hope that I can look to the only role-model worthy of having my son's eyes upon Him.  And, I pray that when he walks in the footprints of his mommy and daddy, he is ultimately following Christ.

In a world that teaches selfishness, I aim to teach selflessness.
In a world that teaches success, I aim to teach satisfaction.
In a world that teaches rules, I aim to teach obedience.
In a world that teaches confidence, I aim to teach humility.
In a world that teaches drunkenness, I aim to teach desired sobriety.
In a world that teaches lower standards, I aim to teach increased standards.
In a world that teaches sexuality, I aim to teach love.
In a world that teaches self-gratification, I aim to teach long-term peace.
In a world that teaches greed, I aim to teach financial blessings.
In a world that teaches laws, I aim to teach respect.
In a world that teaches criticism, I aim to teach acceptance.

I believe the Cleavers said it best when June said, "Ward, you're no better than your son."
-"That's right, but what's wrong with letting my son be better than I was?"

Walk the Walk

Putting my notice in, I made the conscious decision to continue to stay involved in our church.  The relationships we had developed continued to grow.  We began to confide in those around us and even joined a lifegroup.  At a time when our marriage was suffering from the emptiness of being childless, we reached out to those around us.  We embraced the idea of being surrounded by others that were intentional about improving their marriages.  For the first time in our relationship, we opened up about what we were experiencing and how difficult it was to get through the heartaches we had endured.  Week after week, we continued to go deeper and trust the people we had come to know as friends.

But, life went on.

Sharing our struggles, I would leave each week with the hope that something would change.  My prayers were diligent and my heart was pliable.  I took everything we learned to heart and tried to apply it in my life.

But, Satan attacks.

At a time when I felt useless as a woman...knowing I couldn't give my husband the one thing he longed for...I was vulnerable.   I began to feel misunderstood and searched for validation when I confided in my husband.  I questioned my self-worth.  My confidence weakened as those around me would share that it was all in God's timing and it would happen someday.  My mind knew all of those things, but my heart was broken.  I struggled to talk to my best friend, my husband, because he was going through his own battles.  His heart became callused and the very things that had become like Christ began to revert back to the ways of the world. 

His words were hurtful. 

I searched for answers from God.  I continued to dig deeper in the word, fall on my knees, and pray more than I ever have.  My tears ran daily.  I would hide in the comfort of my home, hoping that God would regain my strength.  I tried to be a better wife: to use my words in a loving way, to lift him up and encourage him, to stand beside him when he made difficult decisions, to listen to him when he had a hard day, to be available for his needs, and to allow him to say things without getting offended.

I grasped for anything that would help get me through this season.  I reflected on the hardships of my past and what God had brought me through.  I sought help from those around me.  I confided in others in my lifegroup.  I asked for help and felt invaluable as I was told to continue to allow my husband to be convicted and for me to continue to love him. 


Then, the moment hit me like a train wreck.

I stood in the kitchen as the friends I had come to know shared their life stories.  The leaders' kids had made it through a year of homeschooling, one of the kiddos was going into the next grade & they discussed how much she had changed over that year, the youngest of the kids in the group had gotten into more mischief, and the last couple was finally expecting their beautiful babies as their round of IVF blessed them with twins.

WHAM!

I tried to hold back the tears, but my heart stung from the pain again.  Not only was my marriage in limbo, but I was once again on the outside.  Why?  Why was I not worthy of the same happiness?  I tried to build up what had been torn down.  I wanted to feel loved and worthy of something better.  I didn't understand as I was doing "everything right", but nothing was going right.  I truly loved others and sought out opportunities to serve.  I spoke my mind, but never strayed from compassion.  I worked hard to bless those around me and sacrifice things for myself. I wasn't materialistic or greedy.  I spoke truth and watched my words so that I was different than the world.  I didn't cuss or live in a way that would allow others to see the hypocrisy I had come to know too well.

Why?

Talk the Talk

I have been very blessed to grow up with a God-loving family.  I went to Sunday School, sang in children's choir, and participated in just about every activity.  My mom would help out in Vacation Bible School and my daddy would practice my Bible verses on the way to Awanas.  We went every Sunday morning, Sunday evening, and Wednesday night (and then some).  My grandparents would take me to church as a young girl on the days I spent the night.  Yes, I was very blessed to have a Christian family to raise me up.

Once in middle school, I began to notice the dynamic of my church friends change.  The boys were separated from the girls, and then even the girls were divided.  The cliques began to form and it was easy to differentiate between the popular girls and everyone else.  Let's face it-I didn't fit in.  It wasn't that I wasn't in the popular crowd per se, it was more that I just didn't have a clique and tried to be friends with everyone.  I noticed many of the girls I had grown up with in church start to live different lives at school and quickly struggled to know what a genuine relationship with Christ looked like.

I turned to boys to avoid the drama of "catty girls" and rumors soon formulated.  Did I get a little too involved in the relationships I had, sure I did.  Don't we all?  Hand holding, first kisses, going on dates...it was easy to get wrapped up in boyfriends.  Although I tried not to let the things people said bother me, they did.  I wasn't invited to the local parties and didn't understand the "inside jokes" the girls would tell.  Part of me was relieved that I had allowed some of my innocence to remain intact.  I never drank, smoke, tried drugs, or cussed.  And, even though I began to go to churches with my boyfriends whenever possible, all my church family saw was an empty seat in my hometown church.

In college, I quickly embraced the freedom of not having to deal with the hurtful things people said back at church.  I would still visit on holidays with my family, but I didn't have to sit through Sunday School week after week and watch people talk about God and then turn their backs on Him when they walked out the door.  I didn't have to endure the whispers behind my back or the "church answers" from people just to keep up the appearance of being a Christian.  However, I learned I wasn't much better than them. 

I learned how to put on "the act" of obeying God- knowing what to say when people were around me, and knowing just how close to the line I could get before it was "too close".  Thank goodness God places the right people in our lives.

Once I started dating my husband, we began to attend church together again.  The sermons would feed my soul and give me just what I needed to make it through the week.  Then, Sunday would come around and I would get my fill for the next week.  I began to love others again.  I developed more of a servant heart and found myself wanting to get deeper in God's word.  I began to challenge the idea of normalcy in the world.  I decided to live beyond what others had taught me and instead focus on what Christ had taught me.  I entrusted Him with my relationship with my husband and watched us grow closer together. Our marriage was formed on a solid foundation of wanting to live in a way that others would come to know the love of Christ.  I watched my husband's heart change as he began to soften his words and love me in an unconditional way.  His temper faded, his words were more considerate, he listened and validated my feelings, he watched what came out of his mouth and worked hard to witness to others.  We made tough decisions that others would never understand, but we were blessed tremendously along the way.  When we stepped out in faith, we were welcomed with affirmation. Our finances were taken care of as we began to tithe.  Everything began to fall into place.

Everything except our desire to be parents.

This very real struggle of infertility was like a dark cloud suspended over our heads.  There were days I didn't know how to function because I couldn't handle the idea of God giving me such a strong desire to be a mom and never fulfilling it.  The pain of being around friends that continued to be blessed with children was enough to push me over the edge.  Despite wanting to get closer in small groups at church, the description always read, "children welcome".  Sitting in a group of parents our age as they discussed the stories of their precious children week after week was too much to bear.  For this reason, we held off joining a lifegroup.

Wanting to stay connected, we chose to serve whenever possible at our church.  We gained a couple of close relationships and continued to question what God's purpose was in our lives.  Taking a step of faith, we decided to pursue different career paths.  And, the day I put in my notice was the day Joshua received the job offer he had been waiting for. 

Soon after his news, I was accepted for a position within our church.  I was over the moon.  To be working in a place that was full of other believers and serving behind the scenes was a dream come true.  Although I was in the finance department, I never questioned whether or not God wanted me to be in that position because He was the one that had directed my path. 
 
Some have heard my experience from working at the church; however, some of the lessons I learned during this season are still hard to swallow.  Working in various roles over the last decade, this was the position that I felt the least accepted in.  After praying for answers along the way, it was clear that God had used this season in my life to get closer to Him. The words that followed from colleagues after putting in my notice, are painful to revisit.  I watched people fall victim of the very things I had seen starting as a middle schooler when cliques formed and separate lives developed.  It was hard to allow these things not to push me away.