A Letter to my *Last* Baby

Dear Baby,

I will probably hold you too long. From the moment you entered the world, it has been hard to put you down. You will be so tiny for such a short time, and I will let you linger on me, snoozing peacefully, as I try to memorize the way your warm little head feels on my chest. I will snuggle you against me one more time and one more time again, hoping to imprint on my memory the weight of your little body, the soft puffs of your breath on my neck, the curve of your legs against my squishy, postpartum tummy, where you were fearfully and wonderfully made.

I will probably weep over your growth. I have seen those vital baby milestones three times now, but where they were met with anxiety over "doing it wrong" with our first baby, for you they will be met with tears. I promise to be excited for each new developmental adventure that you embark upon, my Tiny Love, but remember that every stage you outgrow is one that I must leave behind as well. I will blink, and you will be running, singing, and begging to wear makeup. I will smile and cheer you on, I will look with joy to the future, but I will mourn for what I have lost.

I will probably make you wait. A lot. There will be times, perhaps every day, that the needs of your siblings are more pressing or more quickly met, and you will have to wait. Perhaps you'll scream and cry and kick your little legs. Perhaps you'll grow tired of waiting for me to scoop you up, and you'll fall asleep on your own, in your bouncer or your high chair or your walker. But oh, my Little Love, how my heart will ache when you cry, even though I may seem busy or task-oriented or indifferent.

I have prayed the most for you. My Dear One, I prayed for you long before you began to grow inside me. I prayed and I wept over you before  first breath, before I held your brand new, slimy little body in my arms. I prayed for your health and your heart and your growth and your future, even more than I did for my earlier babies... not because I love you more, but because God has shown me time and again the power of praying for my children, and I have finally learned. And I will keep praying over you, Dear One, while there is breath in my body, to imprint faith on your heart and to show you how mighty is the God we serve.

One more thing, my Little Love: I'm not sorry.

I'll not apologize for holding you too long because you'll grow far too quickly, and one day I'll struggle to remember just how tiny you were.

I'll not apologize for my tears because I want you to know that a tender heart is not a weakness or a fault.

I'll not apologize for making you wait because it means our family has been blessed with several children to raise and teach and love.

And I'll certainly not apologize for praying because it is the most powerful protection I can give you in a world that is too often mean and dark and cold.

I love you, Little Girl. For always.

-Mama

A New Game Show: "Iron, Mommy!"

I grew up watching Jeopardy and Wheel of Fortune in the evenings with my family, and we were almost always able to solve the puzzle or get the answer faster than the contestants on stage. We would shout out the answer, or at least give a snooty, sing-song-y “I know what it is” to make sure everyone knew how very clever we were. (Except for me, of course. I am humble and demure.)

But I always wondered… If I were up there, on stage, with lights and cameras on me, with people watching me in the studio and at home… would I really be able to perform as well as I could from my living room couch with a bowl of ice cream in my lap? Maybe not.

SO! I have created a game show for Mommies. Not one for us to sit on the couch and watch, no no. One for us to star in and kick some serious booty in. I call it “Iron, Mommy.”

The preliminary game of Iron, Mommy – to weed out the wannabes – is the PBJ Race. Contestants will have one minute to create a perfect peanut butter and jelly sandwich while two robo-toddlers pull on their clothes, use them as a human tissue, and shout indistinctly. Bonus points will be awarded for cutting the sandwich into the desired shape of the noisy robo-toddlers (good luck. One of them wants squares and the other wants triangles).

Next, the contestants will move to the Lightning Laundry Round. For this portion of the game, they will have to move a full load of wet laundry from the washer to the dryer while holding a 20lb sack of potatoes (“baby”) on one hip. But uh-oh! What’s that! Contestants must race to complete the task before the robo-toddlers pull all the Tupperware out of the cabinet! Bonus points will be awarded for remembering to empty the lint trap.

After the laundry comes the Go-Go Grocery Round. Contestants will race to put away twelve bags of groceries barefooted in the kitchen-turned-Lego-block-obstacle-course. Points will be deducted for each piece that is stepped on or broken, and watch out for the hidden land mine – junior’s favorite rattle! If stepped on, this rattle triggers the angry baby alarm, and contestants will have to decide whether to stop and accept a baby soothing time-penalty or take the guilt penalty and finish putting away refrigerated items first. Bonus points for completing the task without sweating through your t-shirt.

And then, the final game of Iron, Mommy – the SuperMom Ultra-Bonus Bedtime Round. Baby is finally asleep, but uh-oh! Little Robo-Toddler left her favorite teddy bear in the nursery. Contestants will have to sneak and slither, ninja-style, through the nursery to retrieve it, avoiding all toys in the floor that light up or make noise. First contestant to successfully reach Teddy without waking Baby wins 25,000 Mommy points!

All contestants that survive Iron, Mommy will be rewarded with a pedicure and a nap.

So, all you “real” game-show winners out there, I challenge you to a game of Iron, Mommy. Sure, you can answer lots of questions or figure out words and phrases with a few letters missing, but can you referee a toddler game of hide-n-seek while cooking  a Pinterest recipe dinner THAT INCLUDES A VEGETABLE?! I don’t think so, my friend. Iron, Mommy is not for the feint of heart. And I play it every. Single. Day.

It is Love.

It is Love that wakes me each morning.
He whispers,
"Come.
Sit with Me
and linger awhile over coffee.
Hold to me tightly because
today,
you will need Me."
And before the cries and giggles of my little ones have met my ears, I have heard
Love.
I have let His words fill my heart and my mind so that it is He who overflows to my children.

It is Love that catches me winging toward rage and
holds my tongue and
whispers, softly,
"Wait.
Wait.
Be still.
Do not forget Me."
It is hard to remember Love's words with
anger in my heart and
malice on my tongue and
spit-up on my shirt.
"I'm here," He says.
"Let Me speak."

It is Love that folds tiny hands in mine to cross the street or play a game or say a prayer.
It is Love that envelops a little heart so shaken by a 2am nightmare and holds it tightly 'till all is well. It is Love that lifts embarrassed eyes, brought low by repeated failure, and says, "Do not fear.
I am with you,
and you are Mine."

It is not me.

It is Love.

And when my strength is fading, and when my patience has withered, I call out to Love,
"I don't have enough" I cry.
"I know," says Love, "I know."
And Love holds me close and fills in what I lack.
"I will give you what you need," He says,
"keep
your eyes
on Me."

It is Love that holds my hand at the end of a weary day,
pulling me
gently,
one step at a time.
"A few more dishes.
A few more moments."
The deep breaths of sleeping babes float in and out of rooms as He says,
"I know.
They do not see.
But I do.
Come now, I will help."

It is Love that opens up my ears to hear
little voices that need affirmation,
a husband who needs his wife's undivided attention,
a neighbor who needs a hot meal,
a friend who needs a sounding board,
a sister who needs advice, or
a mother who needs to remember she matters.
And I have enough to share
because He sat with me,
early in the morning.