Two weeks.
It's been two weeks today since our Darling, Furry, Fat Baby was born.
Two weeks has five times now marked two dependable transitions:
1) B.daddy goes back to work.
2) The surreal, ecstatic embodiment of our very own, brand new human gives way to my silent feelings of longing and anxiety and squishiness in the middle.
This time I think I'm prepared. I may be a slow learner (see also SIXTH ROUND OF PPD ALREADY!) but I think ready.
Appointments have been made.
Lunch dates are scheduled.
Meals are being delivered.
Friend-visits are in the books.
House cleaning will be done by an incredible woman who has WAY more energy than I.
Basically, I just need to keep holding this baby and respecting the woman God made me to be, the man He gave me, and the five tiny humans taking it all in and we will all be okay.
That's all I have to do.
Just love them.
Do you know how hard that is? To love another--or six--when all the world says to do is love yourself and be true to yourself?
Yeah. Pretty freaking hard.
Love is a sacrifice.
Love means not me but you, because of Christ.
We Jesus People are walking a tight rope these days trying to be true to the Word and true to Spiritual Soul-Care and true to Loving Others. An absolutley invaluable message is going out to us wounded to listen to our souls and say yes when yes is yes and to say no with authority when no is no. But there's a converse message to not say yes unless yes feels really good. Then no doesn't mean no; it just means I'm not into it. That's not at all what I'm talking about.
I'm talking about the yes's and no's that make or break a life. I'm talking about the "self-care" that ensures my husband and children have an actual Me around to love them. Because of the yes's and no's I work very hard to establish and maintain, I am alive and present not only to my immediate family but also to the few souls I have the margin to love, feed, listen to, serve.
Honestly, we are just barely surviving here. The world is hard and brutal even without frightening headlines. It's scary enough to talk to Ladybug about her conversation on the school bus, let alone consider the terror and tragedy elsewhere.
But the foreign tragedies are ever present dangers for a new-again mother's heart. When our babies get off the bus and tell us something alarming, we go right to that animalistic, protective place. We think that surely in our sweet little place no darkness could happen. But it does.
It does, y'all.
Crap happens right here, right now--often because of ME--and Jesus' love is the only defense.
Human beings with Christ's Love in their hearts is one of like of two defenses against the rage and fear that perpetuates the Chronic Problem of hatred and anger.
So here I am with my ten pound ten-and-a-half ounce #5 baby with nothing to defend her except my relentless prayers and suffocating snuggles.
Prayers against....okay, well ANYTHING!
And prayers for only the joy and freedom which comes from our perfect Heavenly Father.
So.
Basically.
We're surviving here in our little house on our little street in our little suburb of our little-big city. I'm praying for grace and mercy and patience, as always.
But who knows.
We'll see.
