Postpartum hormones, perfection and grace

Postpartum hormones are interesting things. Despite our beautiful heart-shaped placenta in convenient encapsulated form, I've had many moments over the last couple of weeks. Moments where I am reminded I am not super-woman. Moments where my humanity smacks me smartly on the cheek, and leaves me a crying, shaking mess. 

All my life I've resisted this weakness. Somewhere along the line I heard and believed the lie that your life has to be perfect for anyone to love you. Or, look as close to perfect as you can muster. This lie has hit me hard in the last two weeks. I've realized how deeply rooted it is in my being; how tenderly I hold onto it, as if it gives my life identity.

Because in the last two weeks, more than any other time in my life, there have been moments where I just did not think I could make it five more minutes without everything around me collapsing in a pile of rubble - myself and my children included. 

And I thought, Is this what it's going to be now? Am I going to be grasping for air the rest of my life, just trying to keep my head above water?

Baby blues? Probably. But the Holy Spirit has been doing a number on my heart through this emotional roller coaster.

Feeding on the husks around me,

Till my strength was almost gone,

Longed my soul for something better,

Only still to hunger on.

Five weeks in I decided I was finally up for Sunday evening potluck and worship with our sweet, growing church. I'd made it the morning a week earlier, and nearly fell asleep to my husband's sermon, but that week had been even harder, and I knew more than rest I needed to worship with others.

As I prepared to go to church Sunday evening I felt Satan pulling me back; trying to hinder me from worship. I was juggling an antsy toddler, who needed cleaned and dressed; and an over-hungry newborn choking on and crying over the over-abundance of milk my body is still convinced he needs. I nearly burnt our contribution to the potluck, and didn't have time to finish all I had planned to bring. Daniel arrived home fifteen minutes late to drive us to church, and I told him to just leave me. I wanted to burrow under the covers and cry myself to sleep. I most certainly wasn't ready to walk out the door, and most definitely wasn't ready to walk into church. At least my heart didn't feel ready.

My heart didn't feel ready for worship, or praise.

Poor I was, and sought for riches,

Something that would satisfy,

But the dust I gathered round me

Only mocked my soul’s sad cry.

I went anyway. Not cheerfully, not easily, but because I knew I needed to. 

There is something deeply beautiful amongst a circle of true friends: the awareness that you are not alone. 

As I sat in my chair and looked around at the familiar and beloved faces of our church family the life stories of many of them came to mind, and I realized that as burdened and empty as I felt in that moment there were others dealing with heavier, even darker burdens. My heart quickly softened.

And as we sang, and worshipped together, and then gathered for communion, Grace drowned me like a flood of water. That perfection I had been striving for all week - all my life long? was drenched in a depth of love I could not even wrap my mind around.

Well of water, ever springing,

Bread of life so rich and free,

Untold wealth that never faileth,

My Redeemer is to me.

No matter how hard I try life will never be perfect. Having two babies has rocked my world in great ways. I have felt my heart love deeper than I knew possible. Yet, it has rocked my world in tough ways, too. I do not have it all together. I don't even have a daily routine yet. I probably won't for a good month or two more. I'm sleep deprived. I'm behind on everything.

And slowly, the grace of the gospel is showing me that that is ok. Life here isn't perfect, and I don't have to pretend it is. The love Jesus offers is deeper, richer, fuller than any wimpy satisfaction I gain from trying my hardest; and when my heart feels dry and heavy, his love satisfies.

After all, of all the burdens any have had to bear is not the weight of the darkness and death in this world the heaviest? If any heart should feel dry, should it not be His. Nailed to a cross, mocked and beaten, forsaken by all but a few, betrayed by one of his best friends, and sold for thirty pieces of silver. And when He cried out to God in heaven the sky only grew darker, and the silence more deafening. Because life isn't perfect, and He knew it. So He died to make all right again, and He calls to us, sometimes softly and quietly, sometimes like thunder: Beloved, I know the pain you're feeling. I know the burden you carry. Give it up: I paid the price for your freedom. Just trust me. I will make all things new.

Hallelujah! I have found Him

Whom my soul so long has craved!

Jesus satisfies my longings,

Through His blood I now am saved.

Life: Hard. But beautiful.

Oh, it has been one of those mornings.

Project 365: One Hundred Thirty-six. Valentine's Day Gift.

9AM hits, and my teeth aren't brushed, my day 3 hair is a shiny mess, framing raccoon eyes and chapped lips. Hopes of making it to the gym are long gone, and the near-16 week baby bump is dubbed a "food baby" for the day. As if I didn't already use the bathroom enough, I'm chugging pint after pint of water to clear the head cold I've felt coming for the last 48 hours. I'm pretty sure my skin is going to smell like garlic soon, I've ingested so much of the potent stuff; and I wouldn't be surprised if I suddenly had a blue-ish glow from all the colloidal silver I've been downing.

Project 365: One Hundred Thirty-three. Laundry

The dishwasher was loaded, at some point this morning. But I've had to load it three more times, because the one-year-old finds such delight in pulling out every dirty spoon, and every sticky cup whilst my back is turned. 

The laundry is going, praise the Lord, but there was no time for sorting this morning. Blacks, whites, reds and blues. They're all in there together today. I never do that. And then I find a stray sock tucked behind the hamper. Oh, well. Too late now.

Project 365: One Hundred Thirty-five. Bath time with the duckies.

The baby's crying, whining really, at my feet, begging for food. I know it because as soon as I lift him he reaches, lips smacking, for the fruit basket, the pantry, the bowl of brown grapes on the counter. How can this child still be hungry?! A quick snack, some drops of silver in his eyes, a teaspoon down his throat, a snuggle, some kisses. 

Project 365: One Hundred Forty-eight. Latest Favorite: Cantaloupe.

10AM. Naptime!

The poor boy has been sick three times in one month. As if I didn't already feel like enough of a mess, I push back feelings of guilt and insecurity as I turn the shower on. Hot, steamy water runs down my achy body. Maybe we could just sleep all day today? But, that's not the rest I need, and I know it.

Project 365: One Hundred Forty-five. Photo shoot by some cherry blossoms.

I fight with myself as I shave my legs. Why is my baby sick again? I must be doing something wrong!...

It's all Satan, and I know it. All the things on my to-do-list pop into my head, but I know I need Jesus first. 

Project 365: One Hundred Forty-four. Saturday crock pot meal freezing.

Wet hair, bare face, jeans and the shirt from yesterday. I fall onto our bed, Bible and journal open. Time for just God and me.

Grace. Joy. Peace. Forgiveness. It all sweeps over me. The exhaustion I felt is covered with a blanket of peace. The guilt is gone, the insecurities vanish. He is all in all.

Project 365: One Hundred Twenty-nine. My love bug and his new grin.

And here we are, the first week of March. Snow flurries this past Saturday, but spring promised by the scent in the air, and the buds on the trees. This weekend marked a whole year in Rock Hill. Wow. 

Project 365: One Hundred Thirty-seven. First flowers in the yard!

We're looking forward to garden planting, story-time going, ultrasound-seeing, Baby gender-revealing, and summer get-a-way planning. Maybe this is the month little man will decide to walk?

Project 365: One Hundred Forty-two. Peek-a-boo!

I am thankful. Every day I finger the two little pearls on my Mama Bird's Nest necklace and thank God for these two gifts he has given us. My mind wanders to days yet to come when they will play, and roam and explore together. Best friends, I hope. And when I snuggle next to my husband every night,  sharing the activities of our day, and laughing over an old episode of Everyone Loves Raymond I am thankful, again, that I get to be married to my very best friend.

Project 365: One Hundred Thirty-nine. I get to be married to him. <3

Life: Hard. But beautiful. 

Love,

          Ashlee

Jesus was that, too.

 This precious boy is here with us this Christmas, and what a joy it is.



As he gains more independence, it has made this mama rather reminiscent of days gone by, when his cry was a faint quiver, and his skin was too big and rolled like folds of velvet over his perfect arms and legs.

And then I think:

Jesus was like that, too.

I nurse my little one, kiss his scratches, bathe, clothe, and care for him every day. He is needy, and during this Christmas season the thought has been inescapable:

Jesus was like this, too.

At the time of his greatest humiliation, his greatest glory was shown. Completely vulnerable, yet heaven cried Victory! 

This Christmas, as I hold my own sweet boy close to me, I've treasured up in my heart that that victory is sure. Because nothing like the weighty responsibility of caring for your own child makes you feel so desperately needy.

"And you shall give him the name Jesus, for he shall save the people from their sins." Matthew 1:21

The world groans in pain, tears fall in bucketfuls. Hearts ache. Minds hurt. Bodies don't work like they should. Men steal and cheat. They murder. Men, women, and children die - some ripe with old age, and season with a good life. Others, too soon - some, much too soon - and thousands, daily, before they even had a chance to take a breath. Always, it hurts.

We need a rescuer. A healer. A comforter. A friend. Someone to cry with us, and to hold us. Someone to fight for the wrong, to make all things right. A defender and protector. A conqueror. 

Then Christmastime comes, and amidst the bustle, we can look to that child in the manger and know:

Jesus is all that, too.

Motherhood

Motherhood is a thousand good things at once. Kisses, snuggles, hugs. Rejoicing at reached milestones,  like rolling, crawling and sitting alone. There are sweet memories: quiet mornings nursing, just the two of us, sunny days playing in the sunshine, and chilly evenings snuggling close to Daddy.



And yet, it is hard. Sin has left its mark, even on these precious little ones. Is he really supposed to cry when I set him down to play alone? Should he be throwing his head back like that, because I took away such-and-such? Is he whining to be picked up... again?

It's evident. O, so evident. We knew when he was born. We were reminded at his baptism. And yet, as Ralphie grows, and learns, and changes, the obvious is now unavoidable.

Our son is a sinner.



He wants his own way. He wants what he wants. He wants to be happy and comfortable on his own terms. On any given day this could mean ten different things!

And so, we teach self control. And patience.

The less of ourselves we seek, the more we will love others. We want him to know this.



Even at seven months.

He does not need Mama every minute of the day. He does not have to have daddy's phone to play with.

It is so hard. So hard to see the big picture sometimes. To think beyond the moment - what am I teaching him as I do (or do not do) this? What patterns am I setting for him?

It is hard, but it is good.



I do not want to get to "the end" when he's all grown up, headed off to college, and wonder if he loves Jesus. I want to know, because he professes, because he lives, because in his life it is self-evident that he serves the King of Kings.

This is my motivation. Day in and day out.



It will only get harder from here on out. Just this morning Daniel asked him, "Are you going to be happy today, buddy?" And at that moment he was. But my response (in my "Ralphie voice") was a reality check for both of us, "O, Daddy, it's going to be a battle every day for the rest of my life. A battle fighting sin."



So we teach and train self-control and patience, because the Gospel isn't about us, and what we want. He'll need to learn to die to himself, so he can live for Christ, so he can serve others. And if our son is going to believe that, he'll need to get over himself and his wants.

Every day is about orienting our hearts away from self and towards Jesus. By God's grace we model, and by God's grace we teach.

We're here to teach and lead him in that way - the way he should go. Gently, firmly, lovingly, consistently. And it starts now, even when he's little.

Buh-Bye Daddy...

... we're gonna miss you bunches.

Always hate when Daniel has to leave. I try to come up with a hundred extra things to do with myself so I don't think about him being gone so much. I'm extra thankful for Ralphie, [coughs] and Zoe, when I'm home alone. Someone to talk to and play with!

This week Daniel's helping his mom move out of her home in Florida, then next week we'll head up to Ohio to help her move into her new home there, with a short detour to Michigan to see my family. Exciting stuff! Thankful my husband has a schedule flexible enough to allow him to help family when he needs to. 

Planning to [Finally!] finish the nursery, which means making the crib skirt, visit and talk to some friends, have a girls movie night, make up some fresh bread for the freezer and read, read, read.

Here's a bit o' every day life at our house:

"O, hi mama!"

staring contest. ;)

SOAP

Life. It comes at us fast sometime, doesn't it? 

We're coming out of a really busy season for our family. Things are settling more. I feel like I haven't been this chill in years - if ever. I can actually sit and read the afternoon away, and nothing is being neglected! Reading is good for my mind, so I'm thankful for those moments, since I know there won't be many as the months move onward.

But even in the busy-ness we should take time to ponder. To reflect. To give thanks.

No matter where life takes me I never want to reach a point where I cannot stop, reflect, and be thankful.

One afternoon Ralphie and I took a walk through Glen Cairn Garden to do just that. I brought my camera along, and as I reflected and took a break from doing to just be I observed the world around me. These pictures are what I saw.

It's important to reflect, not just in life, but in God's word. Something that I was recently taught has helped me immensely with that. It's called SOAP. Scripture. Observation. Application. Prayer.

S - Each SOAP begins with your choice of a passage of Scripture. I've gone through Ephesians, James,  some Psalms, 1 John,  Proverbs 31, and now Lamentations. You simply read.

O - as you read, jot down or underline passages, verses, or phrases that stick out to you. Explain what you think it means. Explain why it stands out to you.

A - Write out a concrete application based on your observation. This is something you can do, or something to be mindful of. For example, in recently working my way through Proverbs 31 I felt the Spirit convicting me that I needed to seek after wisdom (Prov 31:26). So, my application for that morning was to commit to reading the corresponding Proverb each day through the month.

P - finally, journal a prayer, especially focusing on what you have just read, observed, and applied.

I have been so blessed by this method of personal devotion. Some mornings I spend quite a bit of time reading, writing, and praying. Other mornings, it's five minutes to read and jot down an observation. But as I grow, my hope is that this time will become more regular, more steady - even on the busy days.

Because, through reflection, we worship. And that's what life is all about.

So take some time to SOAP it up.

Remember

We're visiting Daniel's mom down in Florida, who is preparing to move to Ohio in a month. Amidst the hustle of packing boxes, clearing out closets and drawers, and sorting through what to keep, and what to get rid of, there's Ralphie. And as I was changing his diaper this afternoon, he was simply irresistible. Grabbing his toes and grinning up at me with his whole little face, blue eyes twinkling. 

These are the moments I want to remember. The moments I want to think back on and feel. 

I love that a photograph can capture that for me. 

With the close of my shutter an image is frozen, and a memory is timeless. 

In days to come, I will look at these images and remember

Delight

joy

growth

   

beauty

  

fascination

infatuation

and love.

In months to come I can look at these pictures and remember the warmth of his skin

 the joy of his smiles, and perfection of his features.

I'll remember his infectious happiness

and his sweet voice.

  his baby breath, and velvet skin

And in years to come I will look at these images and remember the miracle of his life. 

Amidst the busy-ness, amidst the mundane, amidst the broken, God gives us life, and it's beautiful.

"Every good and perfect gift comes from above, 

from the Father of lights in whom there is no change or variation." James 1:17