Now I Get It :: Thoughts on a Second Mother’s Day

May 7, 2013 By Brenda

I had driven five hours that day to be there with her. John and I had only been home from our 43 day hospital stay for a few days, and I was off to see another part of my heart laying there, sick, dying. This time it was my mom.

I came in the door that leads from the garage into the house. The last time I had seen her she was helping me clean out the small brush in our back yard. John sat there on our back porch with a Picc in his arm feeding him IV fluid, trying to keep him alive, watching. It was only three months earlier.

To the right were the double doors leading into the basement den. I knew she was in there. No longer could she climb stairs and now she had a hospital bed downstairs to keep her comfortable. I remember turning my head around that corner. I gasped trying to keep the lump coming up out of my gut from coming through my mouth and into a wail. I fought the tears.

There she sat, in the recliner, her head laying back, mouth opened, oxygen tubes coming from her nose. Her hair was now white. Three months later and it was completely white. She was asleep.

I walked in. She immediately woke up. “My baby bird”, she said. “My baby.”

I started to bawl, grabbing her hands, wrinkled and worn, veins protruding. She was only 55 years old.

It has been almost three years since my got sick. And died. I have always missed her, but this year I miss her with a different understanding. This year, for the first time, I have my baby.

Now I get it.

When I hold my baby girl in my arms there is a love that comes through my bones, a physical feeling, that makes me want to hold on so tight. A love that compels me to holler, shout, and scream at this world and how it might hurt her. A love that would literally walk head on into a moving train to save her. A love so powerful. A love that makes me a different person.

Now I get it.

I get the decision my mom made at 22 to quite her job, in the mid-70′s when quitting your job wasn’t cool, to raise me. I get the countless hours she stayed up sewing me dresses and costumes and later drapes for my new home. I get the jobs she hated but she went to every day so that I could go to college – the college I wanted. I get the meals she would cook for me and freeze so that I could carry them back to my college-girl apartment. I get the notes she left on my mirror reminding me that I truly am beautiful when my 16-year-old self thought nothing but.

Now I get it.

Now I Get It

And now I get that there is no one on this planet who will ever love me again with that kind of love.

When she passed away I felt like an orphan. Yes, my dad is still alive and well, but I still felt like an orphan. When conflict arose in my life with this person or that I would think to myself that my one person – my one person who would be on my team no matter what – is now gone. When my baby girl came and I was up at night feeding her, exhausted, in a house so messy and dirty because my tired body just had to rest during the day, I thought of my mom. I was doing it alone. There was no one else. There’s no one like your mom.

Even though we were very different and not the kind to hang out and shop and talk for hours, she was still my mom. Even though she didn’t indulge me or pamper me or agree with me just for the sake of it, she was still my mom. Even though there are mistakes that were lived and regrets that force their way to mind even now, she was still my mom.

At the end of the day your mom is often your most trustworthy ally.

I look at my baby girl and I want to think that this life I live with her will be all hearts and doodles. I know better, though. I won’t always agree with her. She’ll break my heart, and I’ll break hers. I won’t stand up for her when she’s wrong. I hope she doesn’t for me either. But I will always be on her team. The first to reach out and help even if that help means pointing her to Truth instead of loyalty. Because that’s what true love is anyway, pointing to Truth.

One of the last things my mom said to me was this. “My knowing you has made me a better person.”

Now I get it.

For all of you moms, whether you’ve already conceived your children in your womb or your babies are still in your heart, may God bless you with understanding of His love through the love you have for your children.

Last year I celebrated my first Mother’s Day. My baby girl was not born, but she was four months in my womb. You can read about my first Mother’s Day here.

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What Moms to Single Women Must Know

March 13, 2013 By Brenda

I don’t think my mom expected me to be single at 32 any more than I did. She got married at 18 and had me at 22, so our 20-year-old lives were very different. As I look at my Baby Girl, I already have expectations for her even though I don’t like to admit it. I know that God has a very specific purpose for her life, and I would never want to thwart it, but it’s still hard not to look at where I’ve been and hope for different for my Baby Girl. I try to not hold on too tightly.

As moms we have to embrace the life seasons God allows in our daughters’ lives – even if these season are not what we would choose. My season was made up of prolonged singleness. It wasn’t my dream, but it was my reality, and I needed my mom to come alongside me and help me through it.

Today I am at More to Be talking about how to be a mom to a single daughter. I would love for you to join me there as I share what I needed during this time in my life.

And have you entered the giveaway going on right now! It’s for the 8-week study on biblical womanhood called True Woman 101: Divine Design! Click here to enter!

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The One True Label-Maker

March 5, 2013 By Brenda

My Baby Girl got her first label in the hospital. She was 29 hours old.

The nurse came in to try to help her breastfeed. I say “try to help” because I quickly learned that sometimes things are just better left to a mama and her baby. Baby Girl’s mouth was only yay long, and of course she was nourished from a cord for the past nine months, so there was a bit of a learning curve for both of us.

“She’s a lazy eater”, the words came barreling out of her mouth, “You better watch her, or she’ll end up being a grazer”.

I just laid there, Baby Girl in my arms, disbelief all over my face. It had only been 29 hours. Twenty. nine. hours. and already I turned into mama bear.

I was so caught off guard that I didn’t even know what to say, then for days later I thought of all the things I should have said. You know how the perfect words come after you’ve crafted them and re-crafted them over and over in your mind?

At 29 days old my Baby Girl had a type, she was one-of-those, she had a label. Lazy. A grazer.

Baby Girl’s next label came yesterday. It was most likely an innocent comment meant to express how fast she’s growing. But it was a label nonetheless, and it got this mama-bear’s hair to stand on end again.

“She’s huge!”, the comment said of a picture I posted of Baby Girl’s healthy and happy four-month picture.

Huge {exclamation point}, really? She’s really huge? Isn’t there a kinder, gentler expression than that? Maybe, “Wow! She’s growing so fast” or “You’re so blessed that she’s healthy!” or “I can’t believe she’s gotten so big already!”

Again, it’s all about semantics, but still the label was there and my heart broke for my perfect child.

Earlier in the day had listened to a podcast by Andy Stanley. He was speaking to middle school students, but I might as well be thirteen because I still have a lot to learn too. The whole sermon was about the labels that are put on us and the only One who has authority to be our label-maker.

God seems to speak to me in bundles. That’s how He gets my attention. A subject will come up in a conversation, then a scripture verse, then I’ll experience it, then in a podcast. Finally I’ll get it and know that this “subject” is really a lesson, and I need to listen.

Yesterday my lesson was on labels, and more specifically labels that will be put on my Baby Girl. Throughout her lifetime people will put hundreds of labels on her. Some positive and some negative, and undoubtedly I will be one of those people because I’m just that fallen and imperfect. There is nothing I can do to stop her from being labeled.

But what I can do is teach her what God wants her to do when the stickiness of the labels adheres to her person.

I can teach her that she cannot stop the labels from coming, so there is no point in trying. We live in a broken world and people are broken. We all use labels to help us cope with that brokenness.

I can teach her that the only One who has the authority to label her is God. He is the only One who matters. He’s the only One whose label will make a difference.

I can teach her to rip off the labels people (including herself) stick on her before they become super-glued. It’s important that she recognizes others’ labels quickly and deals with them.

I can teach her how to replace those labels that she ripped off from other people with new ones – ones from God. Labels that tell her she is worthy and perfect and forgiven and beautiful.

I can teach her to keep God’s labels adhered to her heart, so tight that if they are ripped off it will burn a little and she will notice.

I can teach her that God is the only One who has the authority to label other people, too, so she needs to love others and not put labels on them herself.

God is our label-maker. And He’s my Baby Girl’s label-maker. This is what I will teach her.

Image courtesy of suphakit73/ FreeDigitalPhotos.net

How do you handle the labels put on you or your family? Do you recognize them early and replace them with truth?

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I Am Desperate :: A Book Review of Desperate by Sarah Mae

January 7, 2013 By Brenda

I have been a mom for two months and already I am Desperate.

Each day I wake up and wonder, “What is wrong with me? Why can’t I get this together? I’m not even a young mom. I’m an oldish mom, so what is the problem? I wanted a baby ever since I was a little girl. This is my dream come true. So why is this so hard?”

My husband puts his thumbs right beneath my eye, gently rubs, and says, “You have bags.”

As I get up for the second feeding of the night the bags grow along with the feeling of hopelessness. I love spending those moments in the dark quiet of the night with my precious baby girl, but I have to make myself enjoy them. I know that in a few hours she’ll be ready to eat with the sunrise, and I’ll have to get up and start the list in my head.

Laundry.

Clean.

Think about dinner.

Feed on-demand.

And of course I’m supposed to be working out now, too.

All of that with the three-hour increments of sleep I got the night before.

I joined Sarah Mae’s launch team for her and Sally Clarkson’s new book Desperate: Hope for the Mom Who Needs to Breath thinking that I would reap some small nuggets of wisdom about motherhood for later on – when I’m really a mother. Like when we hit the terrible twos and I have the oh-so-famous “strong-willed child”.

I didn’t expect the introduction to be about me – already. After all, I’ve only been a mom for two months.

“Exhausted, out of my mind, and still hormonal, every day felt like a fight. Feelings of desperation were like an ever-present shadow over the good in my life. Experiencing hope in Jesus felt like chasing gold at the end of the rainbow . . . getting to it was always out of reach. Motherhood was something I planned for, something I wanted, so why was living it out so drastically different from my expectations?” ~ Sarah Mae from Desperate p. xvi

My first thought was, “How did she know? How did Sarah Mae know that this is me?”

I will be honest in saying that I have not finished reading Desperate yet. I’m on chapter 3. But with only two months in of motherhood, this book is already teaching me to breathe.

See, I am no different from a lot of other women. My ideals are high. My expectations are even higher. I went into motherhood thinking that it would be something I could control – make into what I wanted it to be.

And then I was quickly humbled – starting with the labor and delivery – and ever since God has pricked my heart slowly and steadily as He whispers, “You can’t do this without Me”.

Each chapter of Desperate starts with Sarah Mae explaining her struggles with motherhood. Then Sally Clarkson replies with the wisdom that only a woman who’s been in the trenches can give. It’s like having Sally as your personal mentor right there with you – right where you live.

“This is the true beginning point – God. He is the one who created babies bursting with life and the mamas who love to care and watch over them. He brought forth from His imagination the most beautiful of gardens, threw galaxies of stars into orbit, and painted our world with color. In keeping with His character, He must have intended something beautiful in creating a woman with this ability to give life, nurture with love, and cultivate the soul of a precious human being entrusted into her hands.” ~ Sally Clarkson from Desperate p. 9.

**Today starts Launch Week for Desperate, and you don’t want to miss the fun!**

Visit the SarahMae.com and DesperateMom.com for gifts, giveaways, to join a Facebook group, or to host a small group and read Desperate with your in-real-life friends!

Be sure to join the No More Desperate Mom Movement!

And read other Desperate mom stories here!

Share with us. What is your most desperate mom moment?

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3 Comments Filed Under: book review, motherhood Tagged With: Desperate, Sally Clarkson, Sarah Mae

A Day in the Life of a New Mom

December 18, 2012 By Brenda

This is the last day of our series, Motherhood: More than Meets the Eye. We hope each of our stories have blessed you and helped you in some way. If you want to catch up on all of the posts in this series, check them out here. Today we conclude with posts describing our “Day in the Life”, and I am sharing a day in the life of a new mom.

When we came home from the hospital my eyelids already needed toothpicks to hold them open. After about 36 hours in labor and then two nights of setting my clock for feedings every two hours, my body ached, and I couldn’t stop crying.

I never knew it would be this hard.

Four years earlier, as a newlywed, having a new husband to answer to, tend to, and think about rocked my world. At 32 years old, to say I was set in my ways is an understatement. My time was mine. My meals were mine. My activities were mine. I joked that I got more selfish by the day as a single woman.

But motherhood is something all it’s own.

A few months before Baby Girl was born I started going to a mom’s small group through my church. I like community, and already knew I was going to need one to help with being a new mom.

But when I showed up it was obvious that I didn’t fit in. I came wearing makeup and a cute sundress. With sandals.

I had heard about the perils of mothering an infant: not showering for days, big, droopy bags under your eyes, and clothes that no longer fit. But seeing it face-to-face, and knowing that was going to be my reality in a few short months, scared me.

I would be different, so I thought.

Right now it is ten o’clock at night. It has taken me all day to get this much written as today we had a “needy day”.

It started in the middle of the night last night. Baby Girl woke up around 3:00 a.m. which is normal, but then right before heading back to bed she spit up every. single. bit. of milk that she just drank. All over the upholstered chair in her room. And then of course she was hungry again. Her stomach hurt, too.

An hour and a half later we headed back to bed. But I couldn’t sleep. I laid there so thirsty but too tired to get up and get something to drink.

Then 6:30 a.m. came. It was time to eat again. I scooped Baby Girl up from her co-sleeper right beside our bed and this time took her to a chair in our bedroom. The chair in her nursery was still wet from where I had cleaned up the spit-up.

She ate, and I took her back to bed with me this time. She laid on my chest in the middle of the bed, and we slept until 10:00 a.m.

We had to get up then because it was time to eat again, and company was coming over at 11:30. I put Baby Girl in her Lamb’s Seat and set her in the bathroom so she could watch me brush my teeth. I also put my hair in a clip and slid on some yoga pants and a long sleeve t-shirt. I don’t have many clothes that fit right now. Including the sundress and sandals.

The rest of the day was filled with cluster feeding. She’s six weeks old today. And 30 minute bouts of napping. Finally, I put her in the Moby Wrap, and she slept on my chest just like this morning. That’s when I started this post.

In Moby Wrap 2

Around 3:00 p.m. I managed to start baking some cookies for a Christmas gift I wanted to take my midwife tomorrow. Baby Girl sat in her swing and watched me.

I just finished the cookies. Again, it’s 10:00 p.m.

Baby Girl is finally down for the night, and I am once again pounding out the words to share this with you. My eyes barely open.

So even though it’s hard, am I complaining?

Not at all. That child asleep down the hall from me has brought me more joy in the short six weeks that I’ve physically seen her than I have ever experienced in my entire life.

And she’s already taught me so much too.

I understand a little more completely how much God truly loves me.

I realize that this world is not about me at all but a bigger story including the soul I’ve been entrusted.

I see what laying down your life – day in and day out – for another person really feels like.

I fall on my knees in prayer every day for help because I cannot do this on my own.

Baby Girl has drawn me closer to Jesus.

When she’s asleep a long time I miss her. When she grows a little more I cherish her. When she smiles with an open mouth I kiss her.

There are few words to describe motherhood without being cliche, so I won’t try. But the bottom line is that with the bigger hips, unbrushed teeth, spit-up, and new bathroom company, she is more than worth it.

I love her more than words can express.