My Latelys

I can't believe it's May already. May 27th to be exact. Nearly a month has passed since I've shared a blog post (more like journal entry), I think to myself, as I sprawl out on our sturdy wooden bench at the dining room table. The cool, smooth surface of the wood feels refreshing against my skin. Coupled with this quiet moment, I breathe deeply and relax.

My body instinctively tenses as I hear a few tiny squeaks from the safari-themed baby bouncer to my right. I notice my body clenching; I'm feeling hopeful and yet realistic about what will happen next. Is she going to wake up? Or continue sleeping? My window of opportunity for accomplishing small tasks (i.e eating a meal, paying bills, folding laundry, or loading the dishwasher) is quickly closing, as baby girl's cute squeaks transition into shrieks and crying. Ruby wants to be held close, so I put down my lunch plate of warm veggie pasta, in all its savory goodness, and cuddle with her on the couch. Cuddling turns into nursing, and then napping - napping on mama's chest. An hour or two passes, and I try to maneuver my way off the recliner with a sleeping baby in my arms. She immediately senses that I'm trying to put her down and crying ensues.

And we are now back to cuddling.

From what I've read and heard, this is a phase - a sweet, albeit exhausting phase - where baby girl wants to be held all the time. On any given day, this will include 5-10 minutes here and there of playtime, called "Tummy Time," where baby girl is placed on her stomach and practices lifting her head and legs. It's a form of strength-training. Ruby typically likes the first few minutes of Tummy Time and then wants to be held again. I also try to hoist her around in our baby carrier front-pack, but unless I time it for right after a feeding, she freaks out and tries to nurse, despite whatever I am wearing. Thankfully, she is starting to enjoy her bouncer chair more often, and as part of my daily routine, I set her in there while I race around the kitchen compiling snacks or throwing together a meal. She can see me and that works for a short time.

Ah, the life of a brand-new mom. My days are structured around Ruby: nursing her, changing diapers, encouraging naps, and baby playtime. All these responsibilities are new to me, and I'm trying to balance them gracefully. There are moments when I remember what life was like before Ruby: sleeping in on the weekend - or just sleeping in general, preparing extravagant home-cooked meals and desserts for Ken and company, and hosting friends and family on a regular basis. Our house was well-kept most of the time, and clean laundry didn't pile up in the dryer for days (or weeks) on end. Ken and I made plans and were consistent in them.

My how times have changed. In this season of acclimating to a baby at home, I sense that God is growing my ability to hold things loosely. I no longer plan things with such definitive expectations. Mostly, I verbalize my desires with a keen awareness that something could change - my days are currently centered around taking care of my baby. A baby who is tender and reliant on Ken and me for everything. We are her world right now. (Well, us and the wild, black-and-white creature named "Penny" who likes to lick her face.)

As I adjust to all these things, I think about how beautiful and unique this time in my life is, where I have the opportunity to be at home with Ruby. I get to watch her grow and develop. I treasure her gentle heart, energetic spirit, and curiosity about the space around her. I'm her mom and she feels safe with me. Our home is a place of joy and hope and life. In truth, it also a place of challenge, as I juggle my new role of mother as well as wife and friend. At times, I have to remind myself that only in taking good care of my health and wellness, am I then able to take care of others. There's a reason why, when traveling on an airplane, emergency protocol dictates that parents are to put the oxygen masks on themselves first, before placing one on their child. I didn't understand this concept as a teenager, in hearing it broadcast over the plane's intercom. Only years later, through counseling, did I recognize the incredibly helpful metaphor that is for my life. In order to help others, it's best for me to operate from a place of strength. The strength that God provides, especially when I feel weak and exhausted and overwhelmed - strength I choose to pursue by practicing peace and rest, which looks very different in this season but is still just as important.

Savoring the small things. Like steaming hot showers, crisp bed linens, freshly vacuumed carpets, and soothing cups of tea. As well as celebrating the nights when we are blessed with a few hours of interrupted sleep. These are examples of how God is renewing my spirit and equipping me with endurance for this journey of motherhood. I find it interesting that in learning how to take care of Ruby, I'm also learning how to better take care of myself.

On that note, I better head out. I hear soft squeaks coming from Ruby's direction. She needs her mama.

My Baby Girl

I am my worst critic.

As I ponder those words, I can't help but notice my shoddy nails - overgrown cuticles, picked-at fingers, short nails exposing an underlying anxiety. The "click-click-click" of my typing momentarily moves my focus from my fingers to the dry skin patches on my hands, and then onto the tiny, interspersed nicks I've gained from paper cuts and playing rough with our dog and her giant chew toys.

My eyes glance at the growing protrusion that is now my belly.

I've never been this big in my life, I think to myself, as I consider whether to reach for a cookie or the giant plastic water mug in front of me. In addition to being larger than I can often emotionally grasp, I now have an increased appetite and bouts of weepiness. Out of a desire to placate my low emotional reserves, and keep from crying, I decide yes to eat that cookie.

As a child, my favorite character on the PBS series "Sesame Street" was the Cookie Monster. His blue, longhaired fur made him seem like a gigantic stuffed animal. I wanted to hug him, repeatedly. And climb on him. And eat his cookies. Or rather, eat cookies side-by-side with him. I also wanted to teach him how to eat a cookie properly - specifically, in a way where the cookie pieces actually broke apart in his mouth, rather than flying all over the room in mashed-up chunks. (Eventually, I realized that the Cookie Monster was in fact a puppet and therefore, unable to actually eat the cookies. That's why they flew everywhere.) I could relate to the Cookie Monster - a bigger, furrier creature who loved food.

Growing up in a more challenging family situation, food was a comfort and security blanket for me. Likewise, biting my nails gave me a way to tangibly portray my stress triggers. When my parents struggled with finances, and fought, I carried the burden by overeating and biting my nails. It was how I processed through my fears, or managed to live with them, I suppose. Years later, around the time I graduated from college, I started learning how to make healthier eating decisions and to stop using food as a coping mechanism for pain. That was the beginning of a long journey for me - one which included Weight Watchers, counseling sessions, dedicated exercising, and prayer. Around age 22, I lost nearly 12lbs and that was a huge victory for me. It look patience, resolve, daily exercise, and eating lots of vegetables and fruits in place of bread. I kept the weight off for almost six years. Then, in the summer of 2013, Ken and I spent a month traveling throughout Europe - wining and dining on local fare, daily gelato (and desserts!), and gourmet, five-course dinners. It was food heaven. I gained five pounds that summer and when we moved to Alaska following that trip, I couldn't seem to lose the weight.

It continued to get harder, as my increasing weight paralleled my increasing depression over moving to such a cold climate. My first year in Alaska was extremely difficult, and not at all like I had imagined it. Marked by the loss of Ken's grandma Alice, then the months it took for Ken to secure a job, along with missing my dear friends and community in Seattle - Alaska felt like anything but "home." A couple months after we got here, we almost resolved to leave.

In faith, though, we chose to stay and while I can't say that decision made it any easier to live here - that commitment, has over time, started to root in me. My weight began to steadily decrease in the months that followed, around the spring of last year. I also got back into running and met some amazing goals I had set for myself. An 11-mile run now seems like a manageable hurdle with discipline and faith.

Suddenly, I feel the smallest semblance of the baby kick within me. I'm instantly tuned in to the incredible event unfolding before me and I realize, once again, that I'm pregnant. In my excitement, I pick at my nails and half-giggle at the thought of being caretaker to a growing human. My body, in all its imperfections, is once again made 'perfect' and 'beautiful' and 'lovely.' It houses a baby. How incredible is that? I smile and think to myself.

In reflecting upon my struggles with my body and the vast changes it's been through all these years, I'm awestruck by this new season I am embarking upon: parenting. I wonder what my baby girl will be like and how I can embody to her what true beauty looks like. With so many failings of my own, how can I be an example of a godly woman - whose heart is set apart and not fixed on trivial things?

The culture and society I find myself enmeshed in values physical beauty, luxe fashion, charm and extroversion, power, and financial gain - many times at the expense of quiet mindfulness, contentment, generosity, inner beauty, and stewardship of resources. Honestly, as I find myself skimming Facebook status updates, Instagram feeds, and news headlines, I notice a marked difference in my level of satisfaction. I become envious of others. Jealous, resentful, discontent. The longer I browse these social media platforms, I lose sight of my worth. Somehow, multiple page and photo "Likes" equals popularity, and a false sense of superiority. At what point is it unhealthy and how can I continue to move in a direction of true relationship, where I place a higher value on meeting people at a heart level, rather than a page "Like"? These are the questions I ask regularly, in seeking to live intentionally. Rather than allowing a shadow of reality consume me.

And herein lies a unique opportunity for me to live differently. Set apart. For my daughter, and for myself. I want to introduce my baby girl to all the things that I hold dear to my heart, like my love for writing handwritten notes and cards. Postage stamps and penmanship and walking to an actual mailbox rather than just writing text messages.

I want my baby girl to understand how meaningful it is to give generously - not just when it's easy or convenient, but when it's hard, too. Likewise, I want to teach her discernment and setting healthy boundaries, so that she can bless others out of a place of strength, as opposed to being motivated by guilt or a sense of obligation.

My desires for my daughter include encouraging her to build her strengths as well as weaknesses, and giving her freedom to fail or struggle, knowing that her true sense of worth will never be wrapped up in her career choices. She is not just a pretty face. She is intelligent, capable, competent, and strong. True feminism is modeled by respect and love for others. I want her to know that.

I also hope to impart upon my baby girl the unique gift of listening to others, and carrying on a conversation. Without a cell phone blinking in the background (or foreground) and constant interruptions from text messages. I think about the friends and family I know who still value quality time, and honor the sacredness of uninterrupted fellowship. They inspire me. My Mom would never rush to take a phone call when we were spending time together (granted, cell phones have become a much bigger deal in the last decade.)

On that same note, Ken makes it a point to engage in quality conversation or quiet time together, during meals and dates. He helps keep me focused on the importance of living in each moment, rather than constant photo uploads to Facebook, alerting everyone to what we are up to. We don't really "check-in" at places online, we check-in with each other and how our days have been and where we are at emotionally. What a gift.

As I write this, I'm reminded of a conversation Ken and I had a couple years ago. In talking about having children someday, I asked him, How can we teach our children to live differently? How can we help them to be healthy - emotionally and physically? Ken's response surprised me, as it was marked by a sense of personal responsibility that I had never considered.

"I think that whatever we want our kids to learn, we need to model ourselves, in the way we live," he shared.

That makes a lot of sense.

I want to model to our baby girl all these things I've shared, and continue to seek God's grace when I can't do it on my own. In reality, I'm so flawed and imperfect and yet in Christ, I am made complete. Praise God. 

In faith, I will be a great mom to my daughter. 

I look forward to meeting you, baby girl. 

I already love you more than I could ever imagine.