repost: real moments of new motherhood

** Originally posted on September 22, 2012

I awake with a pounding head, blurry vision and an upset stomach.  It's the third time this week.  Normally I would stay in bed, pull the covers over my head and try my best to sleep through the pain until the migraine relented and I was able to get back to life.

But today that's not an option.  Seven weeks ago I became responsible for another which means I can't just pull the covers over my head.  Instead I crawl out of bed and soothe the crying babe.

How can I care for this tiny human when I'm the one who needs to be taken care of?  He's crying for his mother, but right now I'm crying for mine.

I am hit with a wave of nausea.  I know it would be a tiny bit better if I could just lay down, but I can't.  Please, Lord, not today.  I just need to be well enough to care for my baby.  Looking across the room, I eye the bucket sitting there.  Can I just make it until the end of this feeding?  ...nope.  I hear the baby howling from the crib where I hastily laid him as I sit hunch over the bucket.

Everyone talks about how hard it is to have a newborn, but not many talk about doing it with a chronic illness; when you are in a battle with your body to simply get out of bed in the morning.  So far I've been managing through my daily pain, but a migraine is like a giant wave that knocks you to the ground no matter how firmly you have your feet planted.

An arsenal of baby supplies are spread over my comforter.  My plan is to only leave the bed to change diapers.  Carrying a baby around with a migraine is simply not a good idea.  To my left is a Boppy, a blanket, a soother and a burp cloth.  To my right is his pack n play.  I can do this.  I have to do this.

But the questions linger in my mind.  How will I ever be a mother when I'm this sick?  How do you explain to a baby that mama just can't get out of bed that morning and that she just really, really needs you to stop screaming in her ear?

I hear the hum of the garage door and whisper in my little man's little ear, "Papa is home.  It's gonna be okay."  On his lunch break, my dear husband has brought me food and drink.  We both know from experience that if the migraine gets too bad we'll end up spending the evening in the emergency room and we'll try everything we can think of to stop it.

The shades are drawn.  An ice pack is on my head.  The medicine has been taken.  I'm sipping liquids as much as my upset stomach will allow.  A fan is blowing on my head.  The lunch break is over and he must return to base.  Together we pray that I will receive the strength to continue. 

Baby finally falls asleep on my chest.  I lay him in his bed hoping to close my eyes against the sun which feels like lasar beams penetrating my skull.  Thirty seconds later he is awake and screaming.  I take him in my arms again speaking softly to calm him for his sake as well as for mine.  Sweet baby, mama is doing her very best today.  I'm trying so hard to give you everything you need.  Please, please just sleep for me today.  Please just stop crying.  I'll make it up to you another day. 

As I breathe in air to sustain my body, I breathe in grace to sustain my soul.  I tell myself the truths that I am prone to forget.

This is not the day to compete for the New-Mother-of-the-Year award.  Today is not a measure of how much I love my baby.  I will not let this day be indicative of the next twenty years nor let it scare me into fearing this heavenly appointment.

Today is not easy.  Today is not enjoyable.  But I know that God has given me enough grace to make it through today.  The migraine, the crying babe, the pain.  All of it is covered by the grace I've been given.  Tomorrow holds the promise of "new mercies".  Which is good.  I've exhausted all that I've been given for today.

And although my son slumbers through my words, I whisper in his ear:  "We're gonna get through, Haddy.  We've got grace.  And life is all about grace."

T'was grace that brought me safe thus far and grace will lead me home.

just this :)

Today I am writing a long letter to update my doctors at Mayo.  I really should have done this about 3 months ago, but it's been a little crazy in my life!

Writing this update is interesting.  I am remembering back to the times when I have been the sickest and remembering times when my soul felt completely starved.  There were days that seemed hopeless.  My emotional bathtub was constantly overflowing.  Just getting out of bed was a struggle.  I was not only waging war against my body, but against my mind.  When you're in constant pain for months on end, your mind considers things that otherwise would have seemed ludicrous.

Am I healed?  Well, no.

Have I found grace to keep pressing on?  Yes.

Does that make it all better?

No.

I still have about 50 bajillion questions to ask God someday.  My theology and my mind have been stretched as I've sought answers to the endless parade of questions in my mind.  My eyes still well up with tears when I think about those dark, dark days.

Psalm 23 says that God will be with us when we walk through "the valley of the shadow of death."  Some translators have said that it could also be translated: "when I walk through the valley of deep, deep darkness."  That's how it feels some days.  And it is something that few people can understand (truly, no one can exactly understand your situation as each one is unique)

I have a new sensitivity for theologies of suffering.  When someone else I hurting, I resist giving them the "pat Christians answers" that stings one's soul like lemon juice in a papercut.

Some days I think about the "friendly fire" in Christianity.  When our own people are wounded and aching, why do we inflict more pain?

That's all I have for today.  Nothing profound or new; just some reflections on living a hurting life.



p.s.  As I was digging through all my papers from Mayo I found some wedding planning stuff.  :)  It's fun to remember that even at that "low point" my mom and I were planning for the future.

grace glasses

Waking up, I rub my eyes and squint at the world around me.  My vision seems normal because, well, I'm used to this view.  But what I don't realize is that my eyes are unfocused.  That I'm missing that all-important lens through which I view the world.

Someone left the milk out of the counter.  Now it's warm.  Gross.  I roll my eyes and mutter something about people who are too irresponsible to complete a simple task. 

Driving down the expressway, someone cuts me off.  "Really?!?  What a jerk!  Couldn't you see me here??"  I speed away to get out of the path of the negligent driver.

The day winds on. 

And I still haven't noticed.

The phone rings.  I spent ten minutes trying to calm down the person on the other end.  The person who has been yelling at me and accusing me of being harsh.  "Are you serious?!  I've been trying to HELP you this whole time and you respond by blaming ME for your problems??"

It isn't until later, much later, that I realize it.  All of a sudden it hits me.

My vision's been blurry all day. 

I forgot my grace glasses. 

See, it might sound kinda crazy, but it's true.  When I first wake up in the morning, I need to remind myself to slip on those "grace glasses".  I must view others through eyes of grace.  It is so very easy for me to be critical and harsh and fight against the world.

The cashier calls for a price check and apologizes for the wait.  I sigh.  Oops.  My grace glasses slipped.... Adjusting the focus of my heart, I smile and say, "I don't mind!  It's not your fault!  How much longer until you're done for the day?".

See, the truth is that these grace glasses are actually for my heart as well as my eyes.  When I wake up with a bitter, cynical view on the world, I see everything as an attack.  When I remember those grace glasses, I easily forgive and bless others.  I remember that in the course of all eternity, these little trivial things don't really matter.

These grace glasses aren't just about making me a nicer, softer person though.  Because I remember that each and every day the ultimate Judge views me through eyes of grace.  Can I not afford others the same grace?

So the next time that my vision is unfocused and critical, I need to remember how I am viewed by God.  That each and every day He looks at me through grace of which I am so, so undeserving.  When I'm truly amazed at the grace I've received, it becomes much easier to pass on that grace to others.

There are days when the pain is overwhelming.

Yet worse than the physical battle is the mental one.

My mind regurgitates old thoughts, ones I thought I had dealt with.

this isn't fair.  is God actually good?  i am in this alone.  why me? my body and my soul ache, they long for refreshment.  will it ever be over?  no one understands  will i ever get answers?

I shut myself off from people who care.  Unintentionally, I shut myself off from God.

"Shall we receive good from God, and shall we not receive evil?"

I am quick to fatigue.  Quick to forget His gifts.  I long for a land that exudes milk and honey and grumble that He isn't providing.  But I am overlooking daily miraculous provision of manna.

He will work.

He will provide.

He will sustain.

It is not a question of whether He will work miraculously.

He can choose to provide a miracle of healing or choose to provide a miracle of grace.  Each are miraculous in their own way.

The real question is whether or not I will have eyes to see it.

Eyes for Beauty

I rise after another restless night. Hot water soothing aching joints. Streaming water runs down my face washing away the lines left from streaming tears.

C.S. Lewis wrote, "God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks in our conscience, but shouts in our pains; it is His megaphone to rouse a deaf world."

Sometimes the noise of pain is deafening. It drowns out everything else. In those moments I am reminded that this world is broken, hurting, in need of redemption.

But in the midst of this pain, there is beauty. Beauty is masked by pain, which makes it difficult to see, but it is still there. The writer of Ecclesiastes tells us these are the "portions" that God has given us.

I must fight to have eyes for beauty.

Today I am finding beauty in the beautiful arrangement of lilies he gave me. A lunch date with a couple of my girls, filled with both tears and laughter. Clean laundry. Fresh air flowing through open windows. Sunshine. Purple flats. Sharing cookies.

These moments are the echoes of Eden and the glimpses into Heaven. The lingering aroma of the past and the fragrance of what is yet to come.

These are the moments that fill my gratitude journal.

These are the moments that make my heart sing.

These are my portion for today.

accepting grace

The past couple of weeks have been exhausting. The majority of the stress has been related to health issues, but it just has seemed like I am failing in every aspect of life lately. I hate not having the energy to do my normal things...I hate not being around for the girls in my hall and for my friends...I hate having to miss classes and ask for extensions on homework...I hate feeling too drained to make it through the day...I hate being emotionally exhausted.

Yet I am slowly growing because of this. I am learning to accept the grace that Jesus offers, which is so humbling, yet so very refreshing. In addition I am learning to accept the grace that others offer and not feel guilty about it the entire time. It is so humbling to have others constantly serving and encouraging you. I cannot begin to express how much people have sacrificed and served over these past couple of weeks.

Accept grace.

Enjoy grace.

Relish grace.

Embrace grace.

Stop and thank Jesus for the grace that He offers and as you do, breathe grace to those around out and humbly accept the grace that they offer as well.