A Simple Christmas

It is 5:30 am and I am sitting here by the light of the Christmas tree enjoying the quiet stillness of a December morning.  The wind is howling outside, but my coffee is hot and my home is filled with gentleness and warmth.

The Christmas season can be so full of excitement and busyness, but I always find a magical peace sitting by the glow of Christmas lights.

I am 39 weeks pregnant.  As my children are counting down the days 'till Christmas, as we prepare our hearts through this Advent season, we are also waiting for our baby boy due on Christmas day.

This has, by far, been our simplest Christmas.  I've given up on my expectations and guilt.  I am only doing what I can do.  We've missed a few traditions, but maybe started some new.

We took off an extra week of schooling and I have used this time to read stories to my kids snuggled up together.  We've cut out paper snowflakes and made ornaments for the tree.  We are baking cookies just for us and watching Christmas movies.

I am just enjoying my children, soaking in their joy and anticipation.  I am learning to rest and quiet my heart.  I've let go of the stress and accepted that this Christmas will be what it will be.

And that, in itself, has been a gift.

The Joy of Helping

A few weeks ago, while trying to get out of bed that morning, my husband told me I looked like a turtle stuck on its back.  I laughed because that is pretty accurate as to how I have been feeling these days.  When I posted it as my facebook status, I never expected that I would learn so much.

Most of the comments I received were funny, but one made me cry: 

"Oh, sweetie...if you look like a turtle than it's probably time to get into your shell and let others help you out.  May I please bring you a casserole and a salad one day next week?..."

At first I was so touched by her sweet offer, but then the panic set in.  I still had 6 weeks until my due date, I felt like I didn't need help, I didn't want to take advantage of her.  I tried to talk her out of it.  I asked her to wait until the baby was born, because somehow I felt then it would be more justified.

But she sweetly insisted and a few days later showed up at my door with a beautiful dinner that fed our family of 8 for two nights (and a lunch!)

She had such joy on her face when she hugged me tight and made me promise that I would let her help again.

This was so hard for me.  I never ask for help, I never let anyone do anything for me.  I think it has come from all these years of not being able to go out in public with my children without hearing, "Oh, you have your hands full!".  I feel like I need to prove them wrong.  I need to show the world that you can have a home full of children and survive.  You can have joy in the midst of chaos.

But the truth is...it's hard.  Really hard.  I don't care if you have 1 child or 10, motherhood is hard.  Don't let anyone make you think that it's not.  To make you feel that they have it all together and you are a failure (especially me!).

There are so many days where I find myself in tears, crying to God for strength to get through the day (or maybe just the grocery store).  And so many times He calms my heart with a Bible verse to encourage me or a song to fill me with joy. 

But what I have learned through this is that sometimes He doesn't give us more strength...sometimes He brings people into my life to help carry my burden, to lighten my load.  And I need to accept this gift just as freely as any other encouragement.

I thought I had learned my lesson.  And then my best friend showed up with a bucket of cleaning supplies...she wanted to clean my bathroom.

No.  There was no way I was going to let her do that. 

I fought with her over it, but then I remembered what God has been teaching me, and at 9 months pregnant I was not able to clean like I wanted to.  Every time I walked into that bathroom I would tell myself that I needed to get to it, but I never did.

And so I agreed.  I sat there fighting off tears as she cleaned my shower and scrubbed my toilet.  It was embarrassing and humbling...but I knew that I needed to accept this gift, and in the end it blessed me more than I ever imagined.

Her daughter even brought over nail polish and lotion to give me a pedicure.  Of course all the kids joined in and I think I had a year's worth of lotion on my feet, but the kids had the biggest smiles on their faces and I would never deny them the joy of helping.

And now, as I am waiting for our baby girl to join our home, I think I have finally learned my lesson...and all because my husband called me a turtle.

36 Weeks...

I've been pretty quiet lately, life is full here.  Between homeschooling, soccer games and getting ready for our littlest one I haven't had much time or energy to write...but I wanted to stop in and share with you some of our maternity pictures that we had taken last week.

 I've never done this before with any of my pregnancies, but when my friend Elizabeth showed up on my doorstep with her camera as my husband and I were getting dressed up for a wedding, it seemed like the perfect timing...and she made me. :) 

I am so thankful that she did.

 At 36 weeks pregnant I wasn't feeling particularly beautiful or glowing...but maybe what I needed was to see myself through someone else's eyes...and camera. 

Knitting Lessons

This past month I had the opportunity to take knitting lessons at the most adorable little yarn shop.  I have been crocheting for 10 years and tried many times to teach myself to knit, all of which ended with a tangled mess of yarn or stitches that fell apart.

I walked into the store and my eyes grew wide at the walls lined floor to ceiling with the most beautiful yarns.  Every fiber, color, and texture you could imagine.  I just had to touch them.

The instructor sat us at a small table and demonstrated the first steps.  It felt so awkward, like eating with chopsticks (which I can't do either!).

This was so much harder than it looked.  My neck and shoulders were tense.  I couldn't talk and concentrate at the same time, but eventually my fingers fell into a rhythm.

Then another wave of morning sickness swept over me and I was reminded of Psalm 139:13

For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother's womb.

As my hands were knitting this crooked scarf, God is knitting a new little life within me.

My needles slipped.  I dropped a stitch.  I let out a gasp and humbly handed my mess to the instructor.  She took one look at my mistake, smiled, and effortlessly got me back on track.

Isn't that just how it is in this life? 

Just when I think that I know what I am doing, I mess up again.  I humbly hand my life back to God, He just smiles and brings me back. 

Worth the Wait

10 days overdue and 29 hours of labor later...our sweet baby boy is finally here!  Weighing 8 lbs 2 oz and 20 3/4 inches long.

Still Waiting...

Our baby is now a week overdue.  I've never gone this late before and it's wearing me out.  Waiting just feels like such a useless place.  This week I have to make some decisions about being induced or just continuing to wait.  I have a lot of fear and nervousness, but also a peace...it just isn't time yet.

My husband handed me his Bible earlier this week.  I opened it to the bookmark and read the verses he had underlined for me.

So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God.  I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.

For I am the Lord, your God, who takes hold of your right hand and says to you, Do not fear; I will help you.   ~Isaiah 41:10, 13

Tears filled my eyes.  This was what I needed to hear.  All this time I have been saying that I've trusted God, and I have, but as a God at a distance.  He is the creator of the universe, I know He has a plan and I know that nothing is impossible for Him.  Obviously, this baby is His plan and He has perfect timing, even if I don't understand it.

 But then to read it in a more personal way...He will take me by the hand and help me through this, through the tough days, through the tears, through this birth how ever it happens.  That brought me so much comfort.

Waiting...

On the eve of my due date I am sitting here feeling much like a mother hen patiently waiting on her nest.  I have a peace that this baby will come at the right time.  I'm not in a hurry to put myself into labor, I know that every day of my child's life is planned in God's heart, especially his birthday. 

But I also feel like a bit of a ticking time bomb...it could be any day now and it makes me scared to leave the house.  I've been getting phone calls every day from friends and family waiting for the news...only for me to disappoint them with the reality that nothing is happening...yet.

And so we wait...

I did finish my baby blanket...and then a hat and pair of booties. 



Today I have been obsessively nesting, so maybe that's a good sign.  I just don't know what else to do with myself.

Preparing for Baby

With only 3 weeks until my due date...I just started crocheting a baby blanket.  My hospital bag isn't packed.  There is no bedding on the crib.  The baby clothes need to be washed and tucked into their drawers.

Maybe it's because this is my 6th baby and I've learned that babies really don't need as much as we are told.  They come whether we are ready or not and so many things can just fall into place in time.

What I have felt the most urgency about during this time is not just preparing our home, but preparing my heart.

The reality is setting in that this baby is going to come out.  Having done this 5 times before is bringing little comfort.  Each labor and delivery was so different, I really don't know what to expect this time around.  I am very aware of the risks involved in giving birth for the sixth time.

My fears are bringing me to tears nearly every day.

How do I prepare myself for what is ahead?

During my last labor, I had contractions through the night.  I laid in that hospital bed and watched the sun rise through the window.  As the daylight unveiled the city, in the distance I saw a church steeple peeking out above the rooftops.  At the top of that steeple was a cross.

I focused on that cross many times as the hours of labor went on.  As I prayed and cried out to God to give me strength, He gently reminded me of what Jesus had endured...for me.

The night before Jesus was to be crucified he found a quiet place and cried out to God.  He prayed to his Father.

I am using the next few weeks to fill my heart with scriptures and songs that I can cling to in my most broken moment.

I'm not praying for an easy labor, but praying for a peaceful heart.

The Apron Experiment

A few months ago I had a visit with an old friend.  She brought me many sweet gifts, one of which was a poem about the history of aprons.

For our grandmothers and great-grandmothers (and their grandmothers and great-grandmothers...) aprons were an everyday necessity.

They were used to protect their dresses because they only had a few and were much easier to wash than a dress. 

An apron became an ever-handy pot holder and dishtowel.  It dried her busy hands and her children's tears.

Her apron gathered eggs from the chicken coop and carried in kindling for the fire.

But somewhere along the way many homemakers stopped wearing aprons.  Maybe we wanted to be young, modern women and associated aprons with being a matronly grandmother.

We stopped dressing up to start our day and met the demands of messy children and housework by bumming around in sweatpants if we got out of our pajamas at all.

I've always loved aprons and found them to be a necessity especially during my pregnancies.  My growing belly is much closer to the counter and stove top and I am forever getting something splattered on the front of my shirts.

This tired mama on Thanksgiving.  29 weeks in my vintage Christmas apron.

But this week I challenged myself to wear an apron everyday, not just while in the kitchen, but as I went through my day.

The first thing I noticed was that I felt more feminine, even when I was just wearing it over jeans and a t-shirt.  I felt like a cute 1950's housewife, not at all like a grandmother.

I felt more productive.  The apron tied around my waist was a constant reminder that there was work to be done.

It was useful.  I found myself searching for the dishtowel much less because my apron was the perfect place to dry my hands.  I used it to gather up toys that were on the floor and carry them to their homes.  My apron wiped the crumbs from my toddler's face before letting her down from her highchair.

I found that this simple piece of fabric, tied with a bow, changed the way I felt about my day.  I put on my apron like a uniform.  My day had a purpose.  It wasn't just about getting through it, I had a job to do and at the end of the day, when the kitchen was cleaned for the last time, I turned down the lights and untied that apron...and with it I was letting go of all the busyness of the day.

24 weeks...

Ignore the crazy hair...it was a long day!

I thought I should get around to sharing a picture of my baby belly...