The Beginning

It wasn't the end of the story. It was only the beginning. See for yourself:

Matthew 28:1-10

After the Sabbath, at dawn on the first day of the week, Mary Magdalene and the other Mary went to look at the tomb. There was a violent earthquake, for an angel of the Lord came down from heaven and, going to the tomb, rolled back the stone and sat on it. His appearance was like lightning, and his clothes were white as snow. The guards were so afraid of him that they shook and became like dead men.

The angel said to the women, "Do not be afraid, for I know that you are looking for Jesus, who was crucified. He is not here; he has risen, just as he said. Come and see the place where he lay. Then go quickly and tell his disciples: 'He has risen from the dead and is going ahead of you into Galilee. There you will see him.' Now I have told you."

So the women hurried away from the tomb, afraid yet filled with joy, and ran to tell his disciples. Suddenly Jesus met them. "Greetings," he said. They came to him, clasped his feet and worshiped him. Then Jesus said to them, "Do not be afraid. Go and tell my brothers to go to Galilee; there they will see me."

HE IS RISEN. HE IS RISEN INDEED!

Saturday

I don't remember going to sleep. I don't remember sleeping at all, but I must have because I woke up. I woke up and willed my eyes not to open. "Please let it be a bad dream," I prayed. "Please let it be a bad dream." I finally opened my eyes, burning and swollen, and saw the circle of women around me. "She's waking up," one said in a whisper to the others. The light from the window blinded me, and I immediately felt enraged at the sun for rising over a world without my son in it. "He's really gone," I whispered to myself. "HE'S REALLY GONE!" I cried to the heavens. The sobs suddenly poured out of me uncontrollably, and my body felt hot with rage and sorrow. I jumped up and tried to cross the room to cover the window--to darken the room to match my mood--but body caved into a heap, the weight of my grief too heavy for my legs to bear. I wailed and let out primal sounding moans. I could physically feel my heart breaking, and I clutched at my chest and was surprised not to see any blood. The women gathered closer around me and made hushing noises while they stoked my hair, just like he did only days ago.

When he told me what was to come, I didn't want to believe. "No," I said, "you're so young. I've lived my life. Let them take me." His sad eyes answered me before his words did. "It has to be me, Mama." I imagined them doing terrible things to him (not, as it would turn out, as terrible as would actually occur) and cringed. I remembered patching up his bony skinned knees and kissing his bruises. Could that have really been so many years ago? "Mama will fix it," I used to cluck in his ear when he was hurt. But I couldn't fix it this time. How could it be that I depended on the little boy who used to depend on me? "No," I told him again. "I need you." He nodded. "Yes, Mama. So does the rest of the world." "No!" I was more adamant this time. "I can't live without you." He wrapped his arms around my sobbing body and stroked my hair. "That's exactly why I have to go."

He promised me that this would not be the end. I believed him. He promised me that God had a plan. I believed him. But he's gone. He's gone and he took a part of me with him. "Just wait. You'll see," he told me. See what? See them beat and murder my precious son? See them hang him from a cross and mock him? See him take his last painful breath? WHAT, Son? What do you want me to see? My God, did You really mean for it to end like this?

Carry On

Can I rant just a little?

This week the CPSC issued a warning about infant slings and wraps. (Mom, you can click on the word warning in the previous sentence to read the news coverage about it.) The article writes that the concern comes after 14 (or 12 or 13, depending on which news channel you choose to believe) infants died in accidents related to infant slings or wraps. What it does not tell you is that those deaths are spread out over a TWENTY year period. TWENTY. You can verify that here.

Now, go here. That's a link directly to the CPSC's website and an article about stroller deaths. There were 22 stroller-related deaths in a 10-year period. Do you see where I'm going with this??

I'm reading a book that a friend loaned me called Free Range Kids. I'm not finished with it yet, so I'll save my review for later, but I'm enjoying it so far. As with any parenting book, take the advice within with a grain of salt. Anyway the author (Lenore Skenazy) suggests that parents are too overprotective these days. Compare your childhood to the one you're allowing your child to live, and you'll come up with a dozen examples on your own. And she says that parents SAY the reason this is true is because times are so much more dangerous. But she argues that that's simply not the case--the real reason is because we watch too much Law & Order and read too many newspapers. Terror sells.

I linked to the CBS article first so that you could see how this is true. The CBS Early Show didn't give parents all the information that they needed to make an educated decision. A much more honest way to present the information would be something like this:

The CPSC has issued a warning about the use of infant slings and wraps. Used IMPROPERLY, they can pose a small risk of death by suffocation or injury from falls. Over the course of the last twenty years, about 14 infants have died. Most of these infants suffered from other health problems or were premature infants, and most of them were not using the slings according to the manufacturer's instructions. These statistics are no higher than the rate of infant deaths related to improper stroller usage. Parents who use infant slings are urged to review the wearing instructions carefully and make sure that their babies' faces are not covered and that their chins are not curled into their chests.

But that just wouldn't make headlines, now would it?

The fact is that women (and men, and even children) have been wearing babies for hundreds of years--safely. It's good for babies. Check out this article by Dr. Sears. You trust Dr. Sears, right? He points out all the benefits of babywearing. It's good for baby and for mom. And, unlike the CPSC, which is urging parents to wait until babies are 4 months old to start babywearing, he encourages parents (moms AND dads) to start right away. He says, "The womb lasts 18 months: 9 months inside, and 9 months outside."

I'm not encouraging you to ignore warnings about your baby's safety, but I am urging you to do your research and know the facts before you panic. And once you're satisfied that carrying your baby in a sling is not a death sentence for your tot, carry on. I am, and Nolan thanks me for it.

Dear Aaron

Dear Aaron,

You turned 2 on Saturday. I can't wrap my mind around it. It seems like you went to bed a baby and woke up a little boy.

Sweet Aaron, I remember so clearly looking at your tiny squash-colored body and worrying that you were jaundiced. I remember sitting in the doctor's office as they pricked your heel and tried not to worry me. I remember getting the phone call that afternoon to go immediately to the hospital. I remember crying as they took you from me and pricked you again and put an IV in your foot. I remember sitting by your side counting the minutes until I could pick you up for those precious few moments every two hours--for days. And, Aaron, I remember exactly how it felt to hold you for the first time after all this, without cords tethering you to medical equipment. It was just you and me again. It felt beautiful and terrifying all at the same time.

I don't think I put you down for a month after all that. I held you while I ate my lunch. I held you when you napped. I held you even at night. I rubbed your tiny feet every day so that you wouldn't develop a fear of being touched on the foot after all the pricks. I wanted you to feel how much I loved you.

And you cried, little Aaron. You cried and cried and cried. You cried for hours every day no matter what I did. I was so frustrated. And I was disappointed because I wanted so much for things to be perfect. I wanted to be the perfect mom this time around, and I just couldn't pull it off. On a whim, I ordered a sling. I put you in and--insert chorus of angels--you stopped crying. You fell asleep on my chest all snuggled in your sling. I could smell your powdery goodness and kiss the top of your fuzzy head as you dozed. And you know what? Things were perfect...well, almost perfect.

Aaron, when you laugh, your entire body laughs. You kiss your baby brother and try to share your toys with him. You adore your big brothers and mimic every move they make. You charm the socks off of everyone you meet. Your eyes are the most beautiful almond shape. You talk on the phone in a whispery voice that melts me. You're perfect...well, almost perfect. You find trouble. And when I redirect you to something else, you find trouble again. And again. And again. You STAY in trouble. Oh, but your sweet mischievous smile. You find trouble, and I scold you, and you give me that smile, and I forget how mad I was. And we repeat. Over and over and over.

Little Aaron, we joke that you're our future football player. We kid that all your roughness will pay off someday when you sign the contract to be a linebacker. And if that makes you happy, I'm right behind you. But, Aaron, if you want to be a teacher, or a scientist, or even a garbage man, Buddy, I want you to go for it. Love God and your family (in that order) and do whatever you decide to do with enthusiasm. And you'll be amazing. You ARE amazing.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

Mama

Y'all, We Have A Problem

So, don't tell Mike, but I'm pretty sure Nolan is a Florida fan.

A Looong Winter

I know I've been gone a long time. It's been a long winter, y'all.

We did a lot of this,

quite a bit of this,

and, thankfully, bunches of this.

Oh, and two babies in the house means a LOT of this.

And now, we're ready for spring. We're dreaming of flowers. And rainbows.

Thanks for coming, winter. It's time for you to leave now.

Good to Be

Tonight at supper I kept noticing a lady at the table next to us watching my family. I caught her eye several times, and she quickly looked away, embarrassed that I made eye contact with her. I wondered what interested her so. I wondered if she envied me with my sweet family. I didn't find it hard to imagine that. If I were someone else, I'd envy me. That's a really good feeling.

It's good to be the Mama.

Hold Me Close

I have a baby who doesn't like me to put him down. If I put him on my bed while I change clothes, he whimpers and whines until I pick him up. If I put him in his crib, he turns red in the face and wails as though I've abandoned him forever. And so I pick him up.

I've read about 50 parenting books. I get all the parenting magazines. I get weekly emails from BabyCenter updating me on what my baby SHOULD be doing and how I SHOULD be responding. Popular belief seems to be that the best thing to do is to let him cry a little--show him that he won't die if he's left alone--and "teach" him to be independent of me.

Fortunately, I learned long ago to ignore popular opinion.

I put myself in his shoes (or lack thereof), and I realize that it does feel scary to be put down. The world is big and bright and noisy, and, by contrast, Mama's arms feel comfortable, warm, familiar. I often put him in a sling and "wear" him to free up my hands. It's convenient. Sometimes I wear him for his benefit and not mine, however. If he's overstimulated or overtired it helps if I pop him in the sling and sway a little. The outside world goes away, and he can relax in the comfort of my embrace. He usually goes to sleep and dozes peacefully for as long as I will let him.

I understand his need to be held close, for the world to disappear. Every Sunday morning my church sings the first verse of "Jesus Draw Me Close" as a sung prayer:

Jesus, draw me close

Closer, Lord, to You.

Let the world around me fade away.

Jesus, draw me close

Closer, Lord, to You.

For I desire to worship and obey.

As I'm singing these sweet words, I picture God wrapping his arms around me, refusing to put me down. Sometimes the world feels hard and overwhelming, and I am just sure that God has left me. I whimper (and sometimes even wail) and then feel His arms around me. He hasn't left after all--He was there all the time. I picture Him shhing softly in my ear and promising to make everything okay as He holds me tight. He's an attachment parent. It feels so very good. I can see why Nolan likes it so much.

And that's why I wear my baby. That's why I love attachment parenting. Those "experts" have it all wrong.

New Year. Fresh Start.

I saw this bumper sticker yesterday that said, "More Wag. Less Bark." I tried to get a picture of it, but the light turned green before I could get my camera out, so you'll just have to take my word for it. Anyway, I liked it. I think I've been barking far too much lately. My kids are slow to do their chores. Bark. There is too much noise in the house. Bark, bark. And I've been wagging far too little.

So, my new year's resolution: More Wag. Less Bark.

Also, my first baby lost his first tooth on this first day of the new decade. Put the brakes on. It's moving too fast.





Happy New Year, friends. I hope that your 2010 is filled with many blessings and that you wag far more than you bark.

*I DID write this on New Year's Day. Unfortunately, blogger was not feeling cooperative. I haven't been able to get it to post until today. So, Happy New Year a few days late.

Quick Takes for Christmas

I'm short on time (always), but I wanted to update on little Nolan and also put a few other thoughts in my head in written form. Today, we get 7 quick takes.

1. Nolan went back to the doctor on Monday for a weight check. They were hoping he would have gained 2 ounces (1/2 ounce a day for 4 days), and he gained 9. So, that's thrilling. Of course, that was with breastfeeding, formula, pumping, and almost no sleep for Mama. So, we've backed off just a little hoping to find that perfect balance of weight gain and sanity in our household. Right now I'm breastfeeding about every hour and a half then offering a bottle. I've been pumping enough (SO MUCH PUMPING) that I'm able to offer breastmilk as a supplement most times, so he's only had formula twice in the last 3 days (both times he spat most of it back out, so I don't know if he was full or just thought it was yucky--because it IS yucky). He is taking less and less from the bottle and seeming satisfied after breastfeedings, so I think that my milk supply is increasing and he's getting stronger. THANK YOU for your prayers, kind words, and even meals. I'm serious that I couldn't have gotten through this last week without all your support.

2. I talked to a lactation consultant this week. She told me that a big part of breastfeeding is mental--if you think you can do it, you can do it. If you decide you can't, you can't. Now, I don't know what the ratio is of mind power:science when it comes to the actual mechanics of breastfeeding, but I definitely see where she's going with this. She said that there's no science to prove that mother's milk tea actually improves milk production, BUT if a mother is willing to give Daddy the crying baby and make herself a cup of tea and take the time to drink it before breastfeeding, she's already in a better state of mind and will produce more milk as a result. I think this can apply to most areas of parenting. If you walk away for a few minutes (take a walk, call a friend, go to your room and listen to Sarah McLachlan's Christmas album--which is fabulous, by the way) you come back in a better state to do whatever task is on your plate. So, it's not always easy to put into action (it almost never is, in fact), but it's really remarkable how much difference a shower in a locked bathroom can make in a tired mom's life.

3. This week a very dear old lady in my church passed away. She was the oldest church member, so this was hardly a surprise, but it still stings when someone you love passes. I only had one grandparent in my life, and she lived far away. Not that I didn't love her, of course, but she wasn't an active part of my daily life. So, when I came to my church, part of what I was looking for was that extended family that I didn't have. Boy, did I find it. There were plenty of grandmas and grandpas who surrounded me and cheered me through graduations, weddings, babies, and life's everyday ups and downs. I clung to 4 of them most dearly. She was the last of the 4 to pass. When I got the news I felt very personally sad. My boys will never again sit in her bony lap. She will never again hold my hand in her very frail one and whisper in her old lady whisper (which was really quite loud), "I sure do love you." But the news also made me extremely happy. She's finally Home for the holidays. I know that she's glowing as she greets her lost loved ones and celebrates her first Christmas Home.

4. Christmas is tomorrow. Once again it snuck up on me. I was going to be ready this year. And then I had a baby. And then the baby needed me more than I anticipated. And then it was Christmas. And the gingerbread house sits on my kitchen counter unassembled. And the presents sit in my garage unwrapped. And my Christmas lights sit in a bin unhung. And Christmas still came. And somehow all that stuff seems totally unimportant in the grand scheme of things. And I'm not even sorry that I didn't get around to all that stuff.

5. I'm struggling with Santa. The Jolly Old Elf has my gut in knots. I grew up with Santa visiting my house every year, and it just seemed natural that the same would be true for my kids. But the boys have been asking questions--too many questions--and I don't know how to lie to them. And I once heard a lady in my church talk about when her son started asking questions. She told him the truth. So, he asked next about the Tooth Fairy and the Easter Bunny. She, again, told him the truth. Then he asked about Jesus. You know, it makes perfect sense that those things would get all tangled up in a child's mind. They can't be seen, and yet grown ups insist that they're out there somewhere. Believe in the unseen. That's faith, right? So, how do we nurture their faith in Christ when they take a blow to their faith in all the imaginary childhood icons? How credible will I be when I tell them that those guys weren't real, but BELIEVE ME THIS TIME Jesus is? So, I think Santa is coming this year just because I don't have time to really sort it all out in my head before the boys go to bed tonight, but I need to do some serious thinking on this before next year. If you have advice or thoughts on the topic, I'm all ears.

6. I really didn't have 7 things to write about today.

7. Have a very Merry Christmas and a blessed 2010.