Kiss Your Miracle

Yesterday I was sitting in the kitchen with my mom after a really rough night with Micah. “I want to write something for the blog today,” I told her. “I feel like there’s a lot I could say. But I’m just so tired that I don’t think I can find the words.” And just like she’s said many times about many things over the past week and a half, she responded, “I’ll do it for you.” So today you get to read a post by my mom, written last night.

As Linnea’s mom, it’s my delight to be her guest-blogger tonight, giving her a bit of couch time. Busy mommies don’t get much of that.

Skylar turned 19 months today. As I sang “Happy Birthday” to her, she sang back at me: “Laaa, laaa, laaa, Bible shoooow.” She sings this brief tune fifty times a day, and none of us is sure what it means. We’re calling it a worship song.

Little Micah, two weeks old today, is making good progress, although he’s living up to his Grandpa Nate’s description of every newborn: The Little Dictator. Micah runs the show from evening to 6:00 AM, which is when Linnea and Adam choose to call it morning. Although a young daddy can’t do much to nurse a new baby, Adam is doing his part by taking Sky through her bath and bedtime routine, and then cheerfully pacing the floor with Micah after that.

Today, as Linnea reached a new exhaustion-low, I could see tears behind her eyes even as she struggled to look on the bright side saying, “I know it’ll get better soon.”

Linnea is my baby, and I want more than anything to help her. With each of our seven children, I referred to their early weeks as “The Dark Night of Newbornism,” and because of sleep deprivation, Linnea is in the darkest part. Although a new mommy is tired beyond description when midnight comes, her little bundle from heaven says, “No. Not tonight either.”

Linnea, Adam and I agree God created the piercing cry of a newborn to motivate parents to help quickly. Without that, every newborn would die, which is the crux of a new mother’s dilemma. The baby needs such constant help that mama is in danger of having nothing left to give.

In my role as Grandma Midgee, I love playing with Skylar during the day and bouncing Micah on the exercise ball here and there, but my most valuable contribution is assuring and reassuring my daughter, “This soon shall pass.”

She knows that, having come through the Dark Night of Newbornism with Skylar and realizing the kind of baby-enjoyment that’s just around the corner. But extreme fatigue has a way of overshadowing logic, and today I was reminded of her older brother Nelson’s tried and true line of thinking: “Lower your expectations.”

Linnea’s expectations are almost in the basement, but as I look back on this day, she’s accomplished a great deal. She had Skylar up, fed and dressed with a barrette in her hair by 8:00 AM, went to a doctor’s appointment, did a load of laundry, took a mile walk, showered, made her first trip to the grocery store with two children, put all the groceries away and nursed the baby nine times. Not bad for a day when nothing significant was on the expectations list. The only thing missing: a nap.

“Linni, you’re doing a spectacular job! And maybe, just maybe, your adorable little Dictator will let you get some sleep tonight. Just don’t ‘expect’ it.”

PS – I (Linnea) actually did get more sleep last night than I have so far, and when I woke up this morning everything seemed a little brighter than it did yesterday. I also have to add that I would probably be spending half of each day in tears if my mom weren’t here right now. Seriously, she’s that helpful.

The newborn days are simple days. Lack of sleep makes everything a bit hazy, but it really doesn’t matter too much since I have nowhere to go and nothing on my agenda. Just hanging out with my mom and sisters, Sky and Micah. And nursing. Lots and lots of nursing. I should probably be napping more to make up for not sleeping much at night. There are plenty of helping hands here to make that possible. But it’s just too nice to have my family around, and even though I’m exhausted, I’d rather sit on the couch with a cup coffee and chat than go into the bedroom to sleep. There is a part of me that can’t help but look forward to that night somewhere down the road when I’ll get to sleep for eight consecutive hours again. But these days are wonderful in their own way and I plan to appreciate each one.

Having a baby is a wonderfully overwhelming thing. Micah is eight days old and over the past week I’ve had moments of bliss – watching him sleep in my arms – and moments of panic – watching him scream in my arms while Sky tries to climb up my legs. I am so in love with my children. At the same time, I wonder how well I’ll cope with both kids at home when there’s no one else around to help. But I actually know the answer to that: I’ll deal with it one day at a time, one hour at a time. So for now I’m doing my best not to think about tomorrow at all. Today my mom and sisters are here, and they’re staying for a while. This morning I came out from the bedroom after putting Micah down for a nap and found Sky sitting on the floor with my sisters, reading magazines and chattering away. The house was full of sunlight. I sat down at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee and my mom and found myself thinking that I wouldn’t change a single thing about this day. Besides add in a bit more sleep, that is.

This weekend Adam installed a Nerf mini-basketball hoop in our living/dining room. We are now officially ready for our son to arrive.

A little while ago Adam asked his parents if they wouldn’t mind watching Sky for an evening so the two of us could have a date before the baby comes. They told us they’d love to and even offered to keep her overnight. At first I thought no, that would be weird. Sky should sleep at our house unless there’s a real reason for her to stay somewhere else, right? Like when we’re actually at the hospital having the baby. But the more I thought about it, the nicer it began to sound, especially because John and Terry seemed so excited to have her.

So on Saturday morning while Sky ran around at her grandparents’ house, I sat in a perfectly quiet kitchen, slowly drinking a cup of coffee. Of course, I still woke up at the crack of dawn. But instead of getting up with Sky I stayed buried under a mountain of blankets for another hour.

The evening before was just as peaceful. As Adam and I shopped in Orlando and went out to dinner, I couldn’t help but notice how relaxing it was to just talk to him. I think that’s one of the hardest things about parenting a toddler – constant interruptions. At the end of a typical day when Adam gets home from work, my brain is full of things to tell him and ask him, and I can’t wait to have a real conversation. But when every other sentence is cut short because Sky needs something, wants something, or has decided to throw a random temper tantrum, I lose my train of thought. I tell myself we’ll talk about it when she goes to bed, but by then I’ve usually forgotten.

I know we won’t have little ones around forever; people in the grocery store are constantly reminding me how fast they grow up, which is probably very true in hindsight. So for now, Adam and I are doing our best to enjoy life with our family today, interruptions and all. But I have to admit that having a break was wonderful. I was excited for Sky to come home on Saturday, but I also appreciated the slow, gentle start to the weekend. Thanks John and Terry! You are a HUGE blessing to us.