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.

K + M + Baby

We're having a baby!!!

Wow. What an adventure these past few months have been. To update readers, Ken and I announced a few weeks ago that we're having a baby! Baby Crewdson is growing quickly and my current due date is right around Easter 2015. 

Today, I officially hit 18 weeks in my second trimester of pregnancy. That means I'm completely over the hump of morning-noon-night sickness (cue applause) and enjoying an increase in energy, which means less midday naps and more motivation to hit the gym. Ken and I, along with Penny (our border collie mix), are excited to welcome the baby home in just a few short months. At my doctor's visit yesterday, the nurse practitioner said that the baby's heartbeat is 150 beats per minute and going strong. 

Our baby is about the size of a bell pepper and 5 1/2 inches long. Ken and I are tracking its growth on our DIY chalkboard, which Ken made for me using a thrift store picture frame, which cost roughly $3-4 and chalkboard spray paint we found at JoAnn's Fabric Store for $4. Originally, I planned to purchase a chalkboard this size from Amazon or Etsy but all the ones I liked were around $50. "Necessity is the mother of invention," as the adage goes, and I'm thankful for my husband's skill at building and creating things I sure enjoy. 

Along with the excitement of our baby news, Ken and I get to celebrate Penny's 1st birthday in a couple weeks, which falls right before Ken's 30th birthday. Nov. 3rd marks 6 months of owning our loving pup, who came to live with us in May. She's quite the rascal and honestly loves food more than affection, I'm pretty sure. One of my favorite things I've noticed about Penny is how much she loves swimming! And fetching large sticks, which are in actuality trees. For Penny, the bigger the "toy" - stick, stuffed animal, or bouncy ball, the better. This summer was the perfect example of how energetic and lively she can be, particularly when friends came to visit us. In owning Penny, we've tried all different forms of obedience training and are still teaching her that jumping up at people or running after small children is not allowed. Her adolescent stage, while completely normal given her background (she's a rescue dog), is a good opportunity for us to practice setting healthy boundaries and in turn, either rewarding or correcting her behavior. It's our goal to get Penny ready for the addition of baby come Spring.

She is a good dog, and a great companion in-training.

     

As I reflect on the last few months, I'm blown away by how God has met me (and Ken) in our decision to step out in faith and move to Alaska. I have a feeling that no matter where we live in the coming years (Alaska, California or Hawaii), God will meet us as we live faithfully and pursue His Kingdom above all else. And while we are here, I'm blessed by God's constant hand upon us. I want to continue to set down roots here, building community and living purposefully. We are so blessed to now be starting a family after four years of marriage.

I turned 29 years old a couple weeks ago. I still remember how I met Ken on the small island of Maui at the age of 22, just a few days before my 23rd birthday. That seems like forever ago now. And yet I'm thankful that we waited to have kids and got to know each other, ourselves, and experience a fuller picture of God's plan for our marriage. Call me selfish, but I don't think I knew myself well enough a few years ago to have brought a child into this world. Praise God for the unique journey He's had me on and how in coming to this place, wrought with many challenges and triumphs, I feel better prepared to be a mom. I want to be a great mom, and that's my prayer. 

Thank you for joining me in this new journey of parenthood. 

Now, off to get a snack. I seem to be much hungrier these days... ;)

Two Years in the Making

Today marks our second anniversary, and what a wonderful day it has been. Ken is working hard in the kitchen kneading a sticky loaf of dough. As I glance over, I notice the dark Kalamata olives peaking through the white bread base. Mmm. We are hosting our neighbors for an early dinner before we head to a ministry meeting at church. Our friends who live downstairs are moving out of the building in the next few days and we hoped that this meal would be a way to support them amidst the busyness of packing and relocating. Ken and I agreed that our homemade taco soup sounds rich and hearty, and the bread he's making will be just perfect in soaking up every drop of soup in our bowls.

In reflecting over these past two years of marriage, I can't help but smile and laugh. "Rich and hearty", just like the soup we're making, are apropos in describing our marriage and the journey that has brought us to this point. God has been at work in our lives and our marriage in ways nothing short of miraculous. I can't even put into words how much I love Ken--each day my love for him grows. It's hard to express the numerous quirks we have developed in being so close to each other, in proximity and in relationship--those little expressions and jokes that we indulge in daily. Brimming with adventures, big life changes (i.e. when I quit my job last summer to pursue something new, us moving to a new neighborhood closer to Ken's college, etc) and unexpected health and family issues, these last two years have been rich and also challenging. I suppose much of life's satisfaction is best enjoyed when you've worked hard to reap the fruit of your labor. That's what's marriage has taught me, in a sense. Love is worth fighting for, protecting, and pursuing. At times, Ken and I have walked through trials of misunderstanding each other or ourselves. In these situations, I've been humbled and challenged, as God uses our marriage to teach me how to love another person, including myself, well. Love is hard. But it's beautiful and substantial, if cultivated on "good soil." I'm reminded of Ephesians 4:1-2: "Be completely humble and gentle; be patient, bearing with one another in love." I look forward in hope to the many years ahead, as Ken and I continue to seek Christ together, as teammates, allies and best friends.

Cheers.

Here are some snapshots of the past four years we've known each other: 

(More photos can be found on our Facebook Album)