And then there were four. In some amazingly miraculous way, I went in to the hospital - just Ted and me - and we came out with a whole new person. (And yes, this equals four when you factor in our incredibly crazy daughter) I still can't really believe it. In a moment, he entered the world - a living, breathing, sometimes crying little person. It's still nutty to me.
I would love to write about all the things I've been processing, all the battles I've been...well battling on how to follow God and be a mom of 2, on not becoming soft and everything else, but sleep tends to be important when you are outnumbered by small people in your home. So I'll postpone all that soul-searching for another day. However, I did want to share a little something this little man has already taught me.
Night 2 of his little life the nurses brought him to me so that he could eat. (tends to be important I guess...) I held him close and tried to get him started, but it just wasn't working out between the two of us. And this precious, mild-mannered baby scrunched up his face in such a way that he looked like a pit-bull and he let out horrendous squeals that indicated he seriously thought his 2-day old life was in jeopardy. I put him up to my shoulder, held him tightly and I whispered to him - "There is NO way I'm not going to feed you. I promise I will take care of you. I could never hurt you." In that moment, tears started to run down my face. Maybe sleep depravation and a host of crazy hormones charging through my body started the tears, but it broke my heart to see him struggle and wonder if he would make it when I was there to help him, offering him exactly what he needed if he would only calm down and trust me and let me help him...
And then it hit me. I am my son. (For those of you not tracking with me, let me explain) I do that exact same thing to God all the time. I fight Him and push back and think that He's going to basically let me drown in my problems. And yet, all the while, He's there, trying to help me, waiting for me to settle down so that He actually can work with me and give me exactly what I need. At that point, tears started to come more freely. For the first time, I had an idea of God's pain - watching us squirm and cry and wiggle and become more and more upset, while He's there never once letting go.
There's so much more I would love to say and I'd love to do it more eloquently, but whether it's the smallness of my own mind or simply the inability to articulate when you are in the midst of crazy life change, I can't seem to put it together. So I think I'll go take care of my little guy and remember that if a messed up mommy like me would never let my child's needs go unmet, how much greater lengths will God go to take care of us... Maybe it's time for me to stop squirming.
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