Posts tagged babyboy
Welcome Little One

Andy & Kym invited me into their home for a morning with their precious little peanut. And let's be honest, inviting anyone into your home, especially someone with a camera, when you have a toddler and a newborn is a bold move. And can I tell you that the rhythm of their home was filled with peace and joy? I wish I could have captured the background noise of big sister laughing and playing games with her daddy, while Kym rocked and cuddled their new son. I'm sure they have moments of chaos, like those that so often spill out of my home... But oh the peace that pervaded their home this past Saturday morn. 

Praying continued waves of peace over you, Andy & Kym. And eyes that look up when the chaos bears down.

What about the plan?
IMG_8441 (1).jpg

 I am unapologetically a planner. I was raised in a family of planners, who no doubt, are decedents of planners themselves. I can't help it, I like a good plan. I like to know when and where. I like to know how long. I like to know what next (and then after that? and after that?). I like maps with highlighted routes. I like schedules. I like it written down. I like to go on trips with itineraries. I like to stand at the entrance of the amusement park and decide on the order of which we will see the attractions. I like to wake up on a Saturday and ask Matt, "What do you want the day to look like?" Not that we have to be busy doing something... I'm happy to have a lazy Saturday doing nothing... if 'nothing' is what we plan.

There is something extraordinarily reassuring about a plan.  All my friends who work with kids on the autism spectrum know where I'm coming from (or at least the kids they work with do!) Plans are comforting. They help us know what to expect... which does wonders for the high-strung, anxiety-driven, type A personality inside some of us.

Matt is something of a converted planner. I used to drive him crazy with my anxious questions about 'the plan.' At first he adapted to it for my sake... and at this point I'm pretty sure he has incorporated it into his lifestyle... at least as far as I'm concerned.  

You know what's sure to disrupt clean, organized and planned days?


On our fridge, under a magnet that was included with Oliver's bedding (what?), hangs Oliver's feeding schedule. I read that keeping babies on a specific schedule for feeds is good for their metabolism... and their sleep... and their Type A mommas. And so we have a schedule hanging on the fridge. Not that we need it there. I know it by heart (7am, 10am, 1pm, 4pm, 6pm, 8pm, 10pm)... but I'm the type of planner who likes it written down.

The schedule is for Oliver.


The schedule is for me. 

And most days we are not quite on schedule. I find myself making thirty minute shifts here and there to try to get us back on schedule. 

IMG_8452 copy.jpg

 I'm reading Spirit-led Parenting, by Megan Tietz and Laura Oyer, a book recommended on this blog 

It speaks directly to my Type-A soul, challenging me and convicting me.

"The first year should be less about training our babies and more about God developing us as parents and human beings. If we let Him, God can use that first intense year of baby's life to train  us to live a life that is fully surrendered to Him. To cultivate in us a trust that follows His lead, seeks Him first and understands His grace."

Plans are not so bad, inherently. And I suppose there is health somewhere in the middle of chaos and anal-retentive scheduling... And I'm looking for that healthy place.



Cause Me to Rest
Come to me all you who labor and are heavy-laden and overburdened, and I will cause you to rest. (I will ease and relieve and refresh your souls). - Jesus


Oliver was out of his mind today, literally out of his mind, screaming at the top of his lungs. He had a full tummy, a clean diaper, and in fact, was fresh out of a bath himself —and he was out of his mind. Blood-curdeling screams people.  And after two months, I'm learning to read him. I'm learning his schedule and his signals. I can see it in his eyes, what he needs... not perfectly... but well enough for us to make it through the day. And my momma heart knew that he needed a nap. He was  absolutely spent and nothing could fix it but sleep. And trust me, I have been there myself... where the only cure is sleep. You know those days, where you just need to be put out of your misery and you know that an hours nap can cure whatever ails you.

So I carried this red-faced, screaming bundle to his room. I laid him down, pinned his arms to his chest and swaddled him tightly as one of the handful of tears he has ever cried trickled down the side of his face. I picked him up and pulled him close against my chest and held a pacifier in his mouth... and I kid you not, we went from a 10 to a 0 in less than three seconds. His lids got heavy and he batted dreamy eyes at me, his body unwound itself, and I could literally feel him breathe out the tension. I sat him back down in his bassinet and he closed his eyes and disappeared into sleep. 

He could not have gotten there without me. I've been around some infants whose parents set them down in a bouncy seat or a swing and come back a few minutes later and the babe is passed out. That must be some kind of wonderful. That is not the son I was blessed with. Our little guy needs someone to cause him to rest. He cannot get there on his own. He needs to be wrapped up tightly, for his pacifier to be held in place, to be held against his dad's or my chest for a bit and then he can let go of this reality and drift off to the sleep he so desperately needs.

As I held my son tightly this afternoon and watched him quiet, Jesus' words flashed into my mind... Come to Me... I will cause you to rest.  Sometimes I just can't get there on my own. I need to be picked up, red-faced and screaming, wrapped tightly and pulled in close. Sometimes I can't get there on my own and I need Him to cause me to rest. I need Him to make that happen for me. Maybe that's just me and Oliver. Or maybe not. 

Two hours later, this is the lovely face I see.

Two hours later, this is the lovely face I see.