Kiss Your Miracle

This past Saturday Adam’s cousin and her husband renewed their marriage vows. The ceremony was scheduled for 11am on a beach about two hours away. I was happy for them, but to be honest, not really looking forward to the day myself. I love hopping in the car and heading out of town, but now that we have a baby an all day excursion is complicated.

After an extensive packing session on Saturday morning, we left in the Forrester, loaded down with everything we might need for the day. I then spent the next hour and forty-minutes doing anything I could think of to keep Skylar calm in her car seat. I knew I was in trouble when I sacrificed my purse for her to play with just ten minutes into the trip. Bored with everything, she fussed on and off no matter what I did. Fifteen minutes before we arrived, she fell asleep. “Keep going,” I whispered to Adam, who obediently drove past the ceremony site to give Sky a few extra minutes of naptime. Once we arrived things actually went well. Sky’s catnap gave her the energy she needed to be cute and happy for the afternoon. She loved the beach and at the reception she basically crawled nonstop, fascinated with everything, until it was time for us to leave.

At the end of the day we got in the car to make the two-hour drive back to Ocala, swinging through a Starbucks as we left town. Ten minutes into the trip Sky was asleep. Adam’s eyes were on the road and Feist sang to us through the stereo. The late afternoon sun sparkled on the trees and shadows traced their way across Skylar’s smooth white skin. I sipped my coffee, studying her face. It’s crazy to me, but even after infertility, I can get so wrapped up in the work part of being a mom that I almost forget to enjoy the experience. Moments of bliss seem to happen right after chaotic ones, when I least expect them. If I’m not careful I might miss them completely. So as we drove along that day I closed my eyes for a second and acknowledged to myself that yes, this is one of those of moments I wouldn’t change at all.

As Christians we’re often told that life is about joy, not happiness. Joy is possible even in the darkest times when you rely on God for strength. And that’s true. But there’s something to be said for happiness, when you’re so taken with the moment – how you feel, the way things look and smell, the people near you – that you forget your stress for a while. These moments can be rare. I hope I’m never beyond the ability to pay attention to them when they come.

Lately going to church has been an issue for us. It’s not that we don’t like going. But at nine months old, Skylar takes just one nap a day – usually around 10:30, which is exactly when church begins. I’ve tried putting her down early before we leave, but she isn’t tired then. And Sky is an active child, the exact opposite of those mythical, laid-back babies you hear about who fall asleep effortlessly wherever they are. We don’t want to miss out on church completely, so we go and I drop her off in the nursery, telling the staff to please, please come and get me if she won’t stop crying.

Last week when I picked Sky up the staff sweetly told me she’d been “a little fussy, but not that bad.” Megan, an angel who works in the nursery almost every week, said she’d taken Sky on a walk and that had calmed her down. As I scooped up my baby and her diaper bag, apologizing as usual, I noticed Christian, a baby two weeks older than Sky, sleeping soundly in a crib by the wall. The lights were on and kids were playing loudly right next to him, but still baby Christian slept. Don’t compare, said a voice in my head as Skylar squirmed in my arms.

I have to admit, I’ve been tempted to compare myself to others my whole life. It never leads anywhere good – pride if I think I’m better off, or jealousy if I feel worse. It occurred to me on Sunday though, that comparing my child is another thing completely. I might just be thinking of myself (if only Sky were calmer, things would be easier for me), but as a mother I should really be thinking of her. If she subtly picks up on the way I wish she were more like someone else, she’ll end up either resenting me or feeling insecure or both. And the last thing I mean to do is make my daughter feel like her God-given personality is inadequate.

I’m only at the beginning of my life as a parent, but I’m starting to learn how things that seem small – a little comparing, a little jealousy – might have a lasting effect on my daughter and our relationship. I am so glad that the Bible promises me wisdom if I ask for it, and that God gives it “generously to all without finding fault” (James 1:5).

Sometimes my baby reminds me of Chewbacca from Star Wars. While drinking her bottle she often stops, pulls away and lets out a big, Chewy-like yell, then goes back to feeding as usual. Is she just expressing herself? Letting out pent up energy? I’m not really sure. She’s always been restless. Even before her birth she moved constantly. One night near the end of my pregnancy Adam and I actually went to the hospital because it felt like she was doing flips inside me, and I’d read somewhere that if your baby’s movements seem “frantic” you should get checked. The nurse hooked me up to a fetal monitor for fifteen minutes and came back with this report: “Your baby’s vital signs are healthy, but that is one active child you’ve got in there.” I looked at Adam with terror in my eyes, wondering what we were in for as new parents.

When I finally found out I was pregnant after our years of infertility, I couldn’t wait to be a mom – to hold my baby, comfort her, and nurse her. People had told me how wonderful breastfeeding is, how it causes a rush of feel-good hormones to flow through both mother and child. I’d also heard that it could be difficult at first so I took a breastfeeding class during my pregnancy and read books about it. I was determined to make it work. When we brought Sky home from the hospital my milk had come in and all I needed to do was get her to latch on properly and drink. It sounds so simple! But Sky did not cooperate. She cried almost every waking moment and when I’d feed her she’d suck a little, pull back and cry and squirm, suck a bit more, then pull back again. Sometimes she’d thrash around with my nipple in her mouth. I began to dread feeding her.

I couldn’t figure out what I was doing wrong. She seemed so frustrated, and that made me frustrated. “You need to relax or your milk won’t come down,” my mom instructed. But relaxing while your baby is screaming her little brains out is not so easy. We went to see a lactation consultant. She was very nice, but it didn’t seem to help. By the end of the first week I’d broken down and given Sky a bottle, the very thing I hadn’t wanted to do. Even with the bottle she would cry, but at least it didn’t hurt me to feed her. The pediatrician found nothing wrong with her – she was just fussy. After two months, I gave up. I loved my baby, but I hated breastfeeding her. When combined with other, non-feeding-related crying sessions and major sleep deprivation, I felt like I was going insane. With Adam’s encouragement I began to feed Sky formula exclusively.

There are many things about motherhood that haven’t turned out the way I’d imagined. I wish breastfeeding had gone better. I wanted to be a perfect mom and I’m not. You know what though? Sky is doing great. She is a healthy, happy little girl. And I can’t take credit for it. God is the one shaping my child’s life. I do my best, but he is in control, and I’m so thankful he can make up for my imperfection.

My book club is currently reading The Third Angel by Alice Hoffman and a line stuck out to me the other day. Hoffman describes a character by saying she “loved unfinished things. Finished was over and done with; she liked process, she liked moving things: rivers, clouds, heartbeats.” I sat there staring down at my book, thinking that I wish I could say that about myself. It’s very poetic and beautiful, and in a sense, it’s true – who doesn’t love rivers, clouds and heartbeats? But what I really love is certainty. I can walk through a process, even enjoy it, when I know for sure I’ll have what I want in the end.

Sometimes I wonder about my family. Is it complete now, just the three of us? If it is, that’s okay. At one point in my life I wondered if I’d ever be a mother, and I will always be grateful for Skylar, our miracle baby. But if it was just up to me, I’d definitely have more children. I grew up with four brothers and two sisters and I don’t want Sky to grow up alone.

I don’t know what the future holds though, so sometimes I fight the desire for more babies. I don’t want to want another child. I don’t want to be that vulnerable again, to willingly walk back into that risky place where I’m asking God for something I might not get. It’s safer to pray without faith and just ask God for things that seem like they might already happen. Praying for another baby means getting my hopes up and maybe facing disappointment. It requires me to acknowledge my total dependence on God and the lack of control I have over my life.

Adam and I could decide one child is enough and that we’d rather not even start down that path of hoping, trying, waiting and praying. We could decide that our family is finished and protect ourselves from being let down. But what kind of relationship will I have with God if I try to guard my heart from him? So for now I’ll choose uncertainty, risk, and possibility.

When Adam got home from work yesterday I left Sky with him and walked down to my sister-in-law Aron’s house for our once-a-week prayer session.  I have to admit, relief flooded my body as I headed down the road – not because I felt inspired to pray, but because it meant a break from being at home. It had been a weird day. Sky had fallen asleep in the car for five minutes – five minutes! – and that was enough to steal her entire morning nap. She was too awake to sleep, but too fussy to enjoy anything. Then she had an explosive poop, and while I was trying to get her yucky clothes off she managed to put her hands into the poop and smear it on her head (ick ick ick!). A single diaper change turned into an hour-long process including a bath for Sky and a whole bunch of laundry for me. I arrived at Aron’s house in a daze – exhausted, overheated, and irritated.

We went out to her back porch and I sipped a glass of water, trying to refocus my thoughts. When I asked Aron about her day she shared a bit about the Bible study she leads for high school girls. She’s been trying to convince them that God’s hand is on them in every situation, even when they can’t feel it. “I want them to know that none of their pain is wasted. God can redeem it all.” She acknowledged that we don’t always get to see full redemption here on earth, but that many times we will – if we persevere in faith. Then she said this: “At the end of the day, all that matters to me is that I refused to give Satan the victory.” I sat back in my chair, thinking about infertility. Satan wants to use it to make a woman give in to doubt and despair; God wants to pull that woman close and create in her a faith that goes beyond circumstances. Whether she realizes it or not, throughout each day she is allowing one side or the other to have his way in her life.

Suddenly it occurred to me that the same truth applies to me now as a mother. During my infertility I thought a lot about God and how I wanted to be a person who praised him every day, even if I never had a child. There were plenty of times when I was overwhelmed by my emotions, but infertility is a crisis, and I knew I had to choose God every day just to survive as a Christian. In the mundane day-to-day of life though, it’s harder for me to stay focused. Things that are insignificant in the long run warp my perspective and I find myself tired, feeling a vague sort of sadness over regrets from my past and a general anxiety about the future. There are times when it actually feels good to let my thoughts wander and those dark feelings take over. It can happen without me realizing it, and it often doesn’t even seem like a big deal. But Aron’s comment reminded me that there’s more going on each day than I can see. I Peter 5 says that we should be sober and alert because our “enemy prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour” (v. 8).  I don’t want to over-spiritualize things and blame Satan for my bad mood when it’s really my own fault. But that’s exactly the point – I have a choice about who I allow to move in life. Self-pity, jealousy, ingratitude – they’re sneaky sins that quietly settle over us when we’re not paying attention. They seem less serious than other more visible sins. But they have the power to make us completely ineffective in the kingdom of God. We can’t really be there for others or even hear from God when we’re all wrapped up in ourselves.

As I walked home yesterday I suddenly felt wide awake, broken out of the complaining haze I’d been drifting around in all day. Pastor Colin Smith says this about the spirit realm: “In every situation God is at work and your enemy is never asleep.” It’s a simple question: who has the victory in my life today?