Today I was outside -- not for long, it was sweltering! -- holding Son4 and standing in the shade of the Sycamore tree. He was not having a great day because he just couldn't settle in for a real nap. With this particular baby, that is not an all-out disaster. His version of fussy is simply wanting to be held and have someone hold his paci in his mouth. There's really no screaming and crying involved. So I was standing in the shade holding him and holding his little green paci in his mouth and considering what the heck was I doing with this day anyway? and it just struck me for a moment that my time is so not my own anymore. Again.
A year ago today I could have been doing who knows what at any moment...but right now, at any given moment I am probably holding a baby. And I agree that that is lovely in so many ways. But it's also very different from what I've been doing lately, and it means my life is a lot less flexible. I am okay with this. I really am. Today I am okay with this.
I've been thinking of that verse that says not to worry. Why shouldn't we worry? The funny thing is that the verse doesn't say don't worry because it's a sin, or because God hates it, or anything like that. My little inner-religious-freak child says those are the reasons. But no, the verse just basically says that worry is pointless. God's got it all covered and tomorrow has enough trouble of its own, so what's the point of worry?
It seems that the thing about this baby is that I have to live in the moment. I have to take care of him. Feed him. Change him. Comfort him. All of that happens NOW. There is no putting it off. And so I have to live in today. In this very moment, and I can't really plan anything. And I may think there is a lot I have to do, but mostly I just have to take care of him. And I have to do it NOW.
So this is how today went: Today he woke me at four in the morning to be fed. Today he wouldn't go back to sleep, so the husband held baby boy on his chest, holding the paci in his mouth, trying to get him to sleep, which he sort of did. The baby boy squirmed for a long time, and then he slept. Today he woke up at seven for another bottle. Today we took a walk and he slept on the walk but woke up when we came home. After that he wouldn't sleep and had to be held all day. That's today.
Tomorrow may be different. Or it may be like today. Six months from now will be different. And a year from now most definitely will be. I don't know how I'll do it or when I'll work. I just don't know. But that's not today. Today I fed my kids. Today I took care of two boys who got migraines. Today I didn't try to work. Today I read a book while I fed the baby. Today I prayed while I fed the baby and prayed while I walked with him in the stroller. Today we watched a movie while I held the baby who wouldn't sleep.
I have no idea about tomorrow or all the tomorrows after that, but I do know that tomorrow has enough worry of it's own. And I'll leave that for tomorrow.
Monday, May 31, 2010
Saturday, May 29, 2010
Miracle
Six weeks ago yesterday, Son4 arrived. And he is just wonderful. I am smitten with him -- fully and completely devoted to him. The funny thing is, I am not sure I have ever felt this way about a newborn before. To be honest, it always takes me some time to connect with a new baby. Emotionally, that is. But this is different. I feel so much freer. So much less concerned about the practical, caretaking things. So much less worried.
I don't remember whether I mentioned it here, but back in the fall someone told me that the baby could feel how much I didn't want another baby. The person implied that I was damaging the baby for life by feeling my own feelings. Anyway, I told her that the baby would get plenty of love when he or she arrived. And I was right.
An hour or so after Son4 was born, I called my dad to tell him the baby was here. He was overcome. He lives about ninety minutes away from us, and he said he'd leave in ten minutes and drive down to meet the baby. We asked him to pick up the boys and bring them to the hospital, which he was happy to do.
I wish I could show you my boys' faces when they got to the hospital to see their brother for the first time. They were captivated. Elated. After the boys had a chance to meet the baby, my dad came into the room and held him. We have pictures of the first time my dad and the boys held him. And they are wonderful pictures...but in my mind is a better picture: all of their eyes lit up with love and wonder.
There are times when I feel drunk with love looking at this little person. The way he arches his back and stretches when I pick him up. His hands splayed out in front of his face. His big toe, which he holds out from his other toes when he's contentedly drinking a bottle. (The bottles are another story for another post.) His long blond eyelashes. And his lips. I can't even talk about his lips. They are that delicious. They make me swoon.
He's a quiet guy. Doesn't really cry. The boy's name means bringer of peace, and he does feel like a little oasis of peace. It seems he has a little well of the stuff inside of him.
This whole baby thing still doesn't make sense. Why us? Why now? Why do we get this fabulous boy when so many people can't even have one baby? When others suffer with infertility, miscarriages, and stillbirths? Why have we received a gift -- a healthy baby boy -- when we weren't even looking for one? I don't have any answers. I am not in charge.
I do know that I'm not worried about all the things I was worried about before he got here. Once I made my peace with being pregnant, the only thing I could imagine about having another child was having a newborn. I couldn't picture any other phase of life without feeling panicked. And so I stopped imagining those other phases and just thought about a baby. But now that this baby is here, I don't feel panicked about him being a toddler. Or about any of those future phases -- because he's Son4, and I love him to death, and I want to see who he is and love him the whole way through.
For some reason the way this has all played out has had me thinking of a line from an Irish blessing. Here's the first stanza:
May the road rise to meet you,
May the wind be always at your back.
May the sun shine warm upon your face,
The rains fall soft upon your fields.
And until we meet again,
May God hold you in the palm of his hand.
I knew that my crazy pregnancy feelings weren't the end of the story. But I never expected this. I never expected that this new little fellow could be so wonderful. Really. That probably sounds terrible, and maybe it is terrible...but I just wasn't ready to be a mom again. But now that I am...well, I feel like the road has risen to meet me.
I don't remember whether I mentioned it here, but back in the fall someone told me that the baby could feel how much I didn't want another baby. The person implied that I was damaging the baby for life by feeling my own feelings. Anyway, I told her that the baby would get plenty of love when he or she arrived. And I was right.
An hour or so after Son4 was born, I called my dad to tell him the baby was here. He was overcome. He lives about ninety minutes away from us, and he said he'd leave in ten minutes and drive down to meet the baby. We asked him to pick up the boys and bring them to the hospital, which he was happy to do.
I wish I could show you my boys' faces when they got to the hospital to see their brother for the first time. They were captivated. Elated. After the boys had a chance to meet the baby, my dad came into the room and held him. We have pictures of the first time my dad and the boys held him. And they are wonderful pictures...but in my mind is a better picture: all of their eyes lit up with love and wonder.
There are times when I feel drunk with love looking at this little person. The way he arches his back and stretches when I pick him up. His hands splayed out in front of his face. His big toe, which he holds out from his other toes when he's contentedly drinking a bottle. (The bottles are another story for another post.) His long blond eyelashes. And his lips. I can't even talk about his lips. They are that delicious. They make me swoon.
He's a quiet guy. Doesn't really cry. The boy's name means bringer of peace, and he does feel like a little oasis of peace. It seems he has a little well of the stuff inside of him.
This whole baby thing still doesn't make sense. Why us? Why now? Why do we get this fabulous boy when so many people can't even have one baby? When others suffer with infertility, miscarriages, and stillbirths? Why have we received a gift -- a healthy baby boy -- when we weren't even looking for one? I don't have any answers. I am not in charge.
I do know that I'm not worried about all the things I was worried about before he got here. Once I made my peace with being pregnant, the only thing I could imagine about having another child was having a newborn. I couldn't picture any other phase of life without feeling panicked. And so I stopped imagining those other phases and just thought about a baby. But now that this baby is here, I don't feel panicked about him being a toddler. Or about any of those future phases -- because he's Son4, and I love him to death, and I want to see who he is and love him the whole way through.
For some reason the way this has all played out has had me thinking of a line from an Irish blessing. Here's the first stanza:
May the road rise to meet you,
May the wind be always at your back.
May the sun shine warm upon your face,
The rains fall soft upon your fields.
And until we meet again,
May God hold you in the palm of his hand.
I knew that my crazy pregnancy feelings weren't the end of the story. But I never expected this. I never expected that this new little fellow could be so wonderful. Really. That probably sounds terrible, and maybe it is terrible...but I just wasn't ready to be a mom again. But now that I am...well, I feel like the road has risen to meet me.
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