My 6-Month-Old Jetsetter!

As we approached the tarmac flying in to Anchorage last night, I couldn't help but think, Wow, Ruby has been on so many trips lately! She's quite the jetsetter. My little girl is growing up so fast - perhaps too fast - as I reflect on these past six months of life. She's traveled from Alaska to Washington twice now, and in just a few weeks, we'll be back on a plane headed to Maui, to visit my family, and then relocating to Eastern Washington after that. The actual traveling part is not glamorous to me - flying with a young child, packing and unpacking lots of baby equipment, sleepless nights when said baby is off her schedule - but getting to explore new places and fellowship with friends has been a distinct blessing (and privilege) and I'm thankful that we've been able to broaden Ruby's horizons in these few short months. Also, this trip went much, much better overall than the last one (read about it here), which felt like a sort of hazing experience, if you recall.

Baby girl’s latest developments include:
- Eating rice cereal for the first time. She loves it! 

Exhibit A: 

- Chewing on anything and everything she can get her hands on (newspapers, books, napkins, water bottles, the kitchen table – you name it.) Mama and Daddy can almost never look away. 

- Saying words that sound like “Hi” and “Da-da”, along with her typical bubble-blowing, razzing, and high-pitched pterodactyl call. 

- Making music on her lap piano. She loves pressing keys and making sounds!
- Focusing her gaze on moving objects, like fans, and fixating on bright lights.
- She can almost crawl and is able to maneuver her body to reach toys and blankets that are close by.
- She sits up so well!
- She’s super sociable and is a real crowd-pleaser on airplanes and in group settings. For instance, Ruby won the hearts of the rows surrounding us on the plane yesterday. By the end of our 3+ hour flight, folks all around us were trying to play games that would grab Ruby’s attention. She's a real heart-stealer. One couple even gave us a brand-new baby teething toy, which was part of a 2-pack, that they were bringing to Anchorage for their granddaughter. I was blown-away by this random act of kindness. 

Here are some photos from our recent house-hunting trip to Eastern Washington! We surprised my cousin Kristina by showing up on her 29th birthday, and it was so much fun hanging out with her and my cousin Isaac in Spokane and in the neighboring towns. We also found a super cute 4-bedroom house with a stunning view in a small town outside of Spokane, which we're praying will become our new home! We'll see what happens, as we still need to sell our house in Anchorage to make that work. 

Details, details. 

All that to say, somehow my beautiful baby girl turned 6 months old a couple weeks ago. She helps keep me grounded in this season of transition, and I praise God for her every day. 

Hope you enjoy these snapshots of our little family trip!

The Lost Boy

Perspective. I can see how my perspective on parenting shifts in response to baby girl's changing needs each day. Oftentimes, something changes and doesn't look how I had planned. For example, consistent naps, a regular bedtime, and sleeping through the night, all seem illusive; particularly, right when I think that I have something 'figured' out.

Yesterday, was one of those days.

Baby girl woke up earlier than usual, ready for the day, cooing and babbling, with words that only she could understand. Bright-eyed and smiling, she fought to get out of her swaddle just after 7:30 a.m.  Her left arm, and then her right, emerged from her green apple-print summer swaddle - despite the velcro straps that presumably held her bound most of the night. Her cheeky grin informed me that she was ready to escape the clutches of yet another swaddle, should I try to re-swaddle her and go back to bed.

"Ok, let's start our day," I half-mumbled, as I relinquished my desire to climb in bed and under the covers.

We ate pumpkin waffles together for breakfast. Well, I ate while she watched me from the comfort of her cheerful red monkey chair, rattling and clanking her plastic toys. When she started to fuss, I sang to her and danced around the monkey chair. It made her happy again, and I assumed that it'd be a good day, where I could tackle the laundry, pay bills, or at the very least, tidy up the kitchen a bit.

By 9:30 a.m., Ruby's demeanor became much more tender. She didn't want me to put her down at all, and after a longish nursing session, she wasn't interested in nap time. Prone to tears, Ruby wanted to stay close to me, so I decided we should go for a walk. The fresh summer air would do us some good. Feeling adventurous, I harnessed Penny, our energetic 18-month-old pup, and decided to take her along as well.

Nearing the high '50s, the cool air invigorated me and I sensed my mind relaxing. Lately, I've grappled with bouts of anxiety, triggered by the challenges of parenting a newborn.

A few minutes into our walk, I decided to go straight thru the main thoroughfare instead of looping along the wooded trail. I wanted to walk around the neighborhoods adjacent to the park, opposite our house, and check out the pretty gardens lining the sidewalk.

Suddenly, a woman, most likely in her mid-thirties, approached me from the right. "Excuse me! Excuse me, have you seen a little boy?"

"Um, what did you say?" I quickly replied, unsure if I had heard her correctly.

"I can't find my toddler! He's 3! He ran off, can you please help me look for him?!" Her winded, frantic tone amplified her breathless speech. She seemed increasingly desperate. There was no one else around.

"You must think I'm an awful parent!" she continued, her face wrought with anxiety. "He just ran off and I haven't been able to find him!"

Unsure of how to respond in that moment, I asked for the boy's name and said that I'd love to help. We split up to cover more ground. I half-ran, half-jogged toward the eastern edge of the park, calling for the little boy, peering through the woods and along the bordering sidewalks.

No sign of the boy.

10 minutes passed and the lady of the missing boy met me back at our starting point, the playground. We decided to cover opposite ends of the park and split up yet again. As I sped up my pace - my red and black jogging stroller's maiden run - Ruby's eyes grew big, as if she sensed my mounting fears about how this story would end. Penny happily jogged alongside us, not a care in the world. Deep down, I couldn't shake the lingering uneasiness. What if this was my baby girl who was lost? How would I feel? What if we can't find this boy - when do I call the police?

Just the other day, I woke up in a panic thinking that I had lost baby Ruby. But she was safe and sound, nestled in her crib, sleeping soundly. It was only a dream. My baby girl's life is so precious. A child's life is so precious. You never want to lose your child.

We curved around overgrown hedges and under towering spruce trees. "Little boy! Little boy! Where are you?" I yelled, as I couldn't recall his name - a name I had never heard before.

The creek. Oh, God, I hope he's not in the creek, I thought to myself, as I ran parallel the water's edge, checking for any sign of a three-year-old.

Still no little boy.

I raced back to my initial point of contact with the mother of the missing boy. Another 20 minutes had passed at this point. She resurfaced shortly after, baby boy in tow.

"A biker picked him up farther down the trail," she smiled, looking both elated and downtrodden at the same time. She continued to say how horrible she felt about the whole experience. "He probably really wanted attention," she said.

"Praise God you found him," I said, and wished her well as we parted ways. In that moment, I wanted to hug this lady that I had only just met. Somehow though, I sensed her incredible guilt over the situation and pulled away, quietly. She wanted space, I reasoned.

In retrospect, I wish that I had hugged her, or at the very least, I wish that I could've responded quicker to her initial comment, which felt more like a question or a bid for affirmation. I would've said, "No, I don't think you're a horrible person. I'm not judging you right now. I'm so sorry that you're going through this awful experience."

Words of grace.

Honestly, this is what I wish I could hear more of, especially on days when I feel like I'm failing as a parent, a wife, a writer, or a small business owner. These are the things I need to remind myself of: I'm not a failure or a horrible person. I'm human, and I'm trying my best.

And by the grace of God, I can get through days when baby girl won't stop crying unless she is attached to me in some fashion. When I need to surrender my expectations for how many house projects I'll accomplish and instead focus on the simple task of feeding and caring for my child. In the end, she is so much more important.

I was reminded of that yesterday. In those 30 minutes, when a little boy went missing and I was there to help look for him, my perspective shifted. One of my worst fears came true for a woman I had just met - the fear of losing one's child, and it helped me to see how truly thankful I am for my own baby girl, and how important it is to live out grace - for myself and others, when things don't go as planned. Or worse, when we lose something precious, if even for a moment.

Happy Independence Day!

On a day marked by overcast skies, the slight drip-dripping of rain, and a modest summer temperature hovering around 60 degrees, our family of three (four, counting Penny, our pup) celebrated our nation's independence. I often forget the many freedoms that Americans are privileged to live out in a relatively safe environment, and yet today, as I pondered graphic news headlines - brimming with violence (both near and far) set against the gray clouds overhead, a sort of juxtaposition of sea/sky, freedom/slavery, light/dark came to mind. We are so privileged to live in the United States, to have access to clean water, to have rights as citizens to vote, to work for a better life, to do business in a free market economy, to eat good food (or not so good food), and to be safe. Perhaps in theory all of these things are black and white, and how each person is able to live out these freedoms lies in shades of gray. 

Regardless, I believe that I am truly blessed to be an American citizen, to live in a country that was founded on great ideas. A country that many soldiers have risked their lives defending. A country that still allows religious freedom, for the most part. So many people around the world are fighting to survive - not just thrive, as I consider myself able to do as an American citizen. Today, as I enjoyed a lovely brunch with my sweet family, and then a long walk along the inlet, I was reminded of what a blessing it is to be free.  

I've always loved this song, as it reminds me of the freedom we have. Praise God.

"America the Beautiful" by Katharine Lee Bates

United Methodist Hymnal, 1989

O beautiful for spacious skies,
for amber waves of grain;
for purple mountain majesties
above the fruited plain!
America! America! God shed his grace on thee,
and crown thy good with brotherhood
from sea to shining sea.

O beautiful for heroes proved
in liberating strife,
who more than self their country loved,
and mercy more than life!
America! America! May God thy gold refine,
till all success be nobleness,
and every gain divine.

O beautiful for patriot dream
that sees beyond the years
thine alabaster cities gleam,
undimmed by human tears!
America! America! God mend thine every flaw,
confirm thy soul in self-control,
thy liberty in law.

Thoughts on Sleepless Nights & Becoming a Mom

It's been 18 days now since I gave birth to my sweet baby girl, Ruby. Yesterday, I met with my family practitioner and she removed the surgical tape covering my stitches, remnants from my emergency c-section. Her incredibly quick hands stripped the adhesive bandages in record time. I felt a few sharp pinches on my abdomen and before I could fully register the pain, she had completed her task and whipped out a mirror to show me what it looked like down there: a thin, shadowy line running horizontal above my pelvis.

Thankfully, I'm no longer afraid of what I see. Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, stripped down before my daily shower, I analyze the ever-changing shape of my body. Each new curve, stretch mark, and scar is fascinating. Prior to labor and delivery, the nurses at my women's clinic would brag about how beautiful my light-brown skin was. They'd say things like, "It's not fair," and "I can't believe you have no stretch marks from being pregnant." Phrases that women tell other women in a sort of backhanded compliment, which translates to "I'm jealous."

Somehow that all changed once I gave birth to my baby. Stretch marks magically appeared all around my belly and my once-flawless complexion morphed into blotchy patches of discoloration. How ironic.

Becoming a mother has truly changed me, both physically and emotionally. While I'm fairly close to my pre-pregnancy weight, thanks largely in part to a rapid 20-lb weight loss during delivery, I recognize that my body has transformed. It's so different.

I'm a mom now. And as such, my body accommodates the needs of my baby - her constant nursing, and desire to cuddle.

Likewise, I feel a strong mothering instinct. I must protect my baby girl, taking great care to feed her and watch over her. Most nights, I fall asleep listening to the sound of her breathing, focusing on every inhale and exhale, ensuring that she's still alive and safe.

To put things in perspective, before having baby Ruby in my life, I had no idea how challenging parenting could be. Sure, friends and family always had their stories to share but until I became a mom, I didn't realize that I could function on so little sleep each night, supplemented by fragmented naps throughout the day. In certain ways, I feel like the worst version of myself: crazy-haired girl who currently lives in her pink and white bathrobe and occasionally (or frequently) forgets if she brushed her teeth or changed her underwear, all while operating in a delirious state of exhaustion each day. Taking care of a baby. That's my life right now.

On the flip side, I also live within the tension that yes, I don't have it all together most days. And yes, I will probably only wear makeup for special occasions in the coming days/weeks/months? But, I'm now a mom and doing things right in so many ways. I have the privilege of raising a baby girl to know that she is loved and cared for, and I get to work through my own sense of selfishness and self-centered desires on a daily basis. It's true that my life has changed forever - my identity and expectations are adapting to accommodate the child who relies on me for everything.  Rather than focusing on all the things I'm giving up (sleep, appearance, sanity), God is constantly reminding me of what I've been given. The gift of a baby girl that I get to steward and raise and protect.

I had no idea how challenging and rewarding, this new season would be. Perhaps, this is reason still to give thanks. I'm finding that there is grace in not being able to see what lies ahead, stepping out in faith into the great unknown.

“There are far, far better things ahead than any we leave behind.” 

C.S. Lewis