ADRIAN’S 1ST BIRHTDAY

March 26, 2025March 26, 2025Leave a comment

Today
Wednesday, March 26, 2025

as I reflect on my fourth child
my second son
my precious baby
turning one
I pause to remember.

I am brought back to a summer day in June 2023. In a prayerful and quiet moment, asking the Lord if it was His will for us to grow our family, God gave me the image of the tree with four branches. I drew this picture in my journal, then listed every fear I had about having a fourth child. Many of those fears included the physical surrender of my body: pregnancy, postpartum, and nursing. The nearly two-year physical undertaking of a new baby was one of the most dreaded parts that kept me from being open to the miracle of life that God would have for our family.

Shortly after, we rejoiced in the news of finding out we were pregnant. But the physical toll began (again). I remember nauseous days in the 100-degree summer heat and feeling sick as I brought Lydia to her first day of kindergarten. I remember paralyzing back pain while hosting Eliza’s 4-year-old birthday party. I remembering sprinting 38-weeks pregnant as CJ’s scooter headed full speed for a busy street. I remember the bonding with Adrian & commitment to health during the final months of pregnancy and his birth—leading up to Holy Week, 2024.

I remember the joy of showing up at Good Friday service with Adrian only 3 days old, and Easter Sunday, 5 days old. I remember countless times nursing him or trying to get him to sleep while anxiously praying that my other children who roamed freely in the house and yard were safe. I recount Adrian’s volume of spit up that lasted until 10 months old and led me to a purchase a little Green Machine vacuum for the carpet of our new house—the only house Adrian will remember. Countless nighttime feedings alone, while everyone else in the house was asleep. The dreaded sleep training and weaning. His first belly laugh. The first time he said mama. His first steps—followed by a dogpile by all three siblings and the most precious family hug.

All these little moments,
leading us to
today.

In many ways, Adrian turning one feels like a fulfillment of that prayer I laid before the Lord on that summer day. A trust and a peace, amid many fears.

God carried both me and my family
from then
until
now.

Since that time, I see that God has both comforted me and changed me. I have so much delight as I look to the next milestones that come after Adrian’s first steps and the one-nap transition. I am so proud as I see him play with his siblings, dance every time he hears a beat, voice his opinions, and explore and discover the world around him.

When I think of Adrian now, I think of the way his deep brown eyes light up every time he sees me, how he drops his head to fast crawl from across the room and pull up on my legs, how he turns his palms face up to reach for me (reminding me of the open palms that is often my posture when I seek to worship the Lord). I think of singing “This Little Light of Mine” before many naps, but changing the lyrics:

This little light of mine,
I’m gonna let him shine.

I wondered why I was not more emotional about his turning of one, until yesterday when I sat with the Lord long enough to remember—not just the growth he’s had this year, but the growth of my own. The Lord has used Adrian to increase my endurance—physically, mentally, and spiritually—and my dependence on Him for each of my four children.

Psalm 131:2 says, “Instead, I have calmed and quieted my soul like a weaned child with its mother; my soul is like a weaned child.”

Often, I think of our relationship with the Lord like a nursing infant, because we are utterly dependent on God for life. This verse in Psalm 131 then has me wonder, why does it say a weaned child? This week as we are weaning Adrian I have a precious picture: a weaned child comes to his mother, not because he needs milk. He just wants to rest in her presence and feel her comfort and warmth. As he cuddles on my chest now without nursing, he is calm and quiet. His soul is at rest.

Before the Lord, I come
for rest, comfort and strength—
and
even as
we don’t know the circumstances of life
or
as we ponder the regrets made
or
the fears of the future
I wonder at how the Lord invites us into His presence to
rest
our minds
rest
our bodies
rest
our souls
“like a weaned child comes to its mother.”

As your name means, Adrian Ray, you have brought a wealth of light into our life. This little light of mine, you point us to our Heavenly Father. You shine.

Happy Birthday, Adrain.

adrian’s birth story

23 Weeks Pregnant

I start Adrian’s birth story here, not long after I left off part 1 of pregnancy in my blog post Naming Adrian Ray. It was mid-December and life was busy. Our 20-week sonogram revealed Adrian to be in the 99th-percentile for his size. In addition to my body adjusting to carrying him, I was planning and throwing work holiday parties, two kid’s birthday parties, preparing for Christmas, and fending off winter sickness. During my daughter Eliza’s 4th birthday party, I had pushed my body so hard that I could not even walk. I was paralyzed from pain in my SI joint, having to ask other parents to serve cake because I could quite literally barely move.

This was a turning point for me because I knew I had done this to myself. My pride said I was pushing hard for other people and good things, but now my relentless push was impacting not just me, but those around me, and my ability to enjoy pregnancy. On top of the pain, I still had 4 more months of pregnancy to go, and Adrian would only grow bigger.

I scheduled a massage for the next week, on my 33rd birthday. During this massage, the massage therapist told me I had the worst knot on the left glute muscle he had ever seen. So much of my pain was related to tightness and imbalances as I carried Adrian. I was prescribed epsom salt baths, foam rolling, massaging, and regular stretching.

As the massage therapist left the room, I took a few moments of silence to myself in prayer. Tears streamed from my face, right there on the bed, as I made a promise to Adrian that I would take better care of myself. Not for me, but for him, and for my family. No more excuses. I needed God’s help to create major habit changes.

Adrian’s pregnancy showed me more fully how to surrender control to God, listen to my body, and take care of myself in motherhood.

From that point on I started daily exercise, massage, heat, and stretching. I joined a female-only gym that offered weightlifting and boot camp style workouts. I remember my first workout at Blush, I couldn’t run, and regularly had to stop my work out because Braxton Hicks contractions were so bad at any bit of abdomen engagement (though I was only 26 weeks pregnant). But every day, I spent 1-2 hours developing these healthy habits and routines.

As Adrian became bigger, my body was getting stronger. Within 3 weeks I started noticing a difference in pain management, and within 6 weeks I was pain free.

Instead of surviving my third trimester of pregnancy – one that will most likely be my last – I was able to enjoy the season. I had more energy for motherhood, marriage, and work. I was able to focus not on physical pain but on the joy of the life that was being knitted in my womb.

36 Weeks Pregnant

Around 36.5 weeks, I was checked for dilation and learned that I was already dilated to 5cm and Adrian was head down. Adrian continued to measure in the 97th-percentile for his size though my fluid levels had stabilized. Kevin and I decided that we would take the next week to make all our final preparations in the house.

The following week was a whirlwind! On March 1, we switched CJ to a big boy bed and all three kids were sleeping in the same room. We moved furniture around to get the nursery ready for Adrian’s arrival, we unpacked baby clothes, purchased the last of our baby gear, and packed our hospital bags. On top of that, we had three unplanned plumbing “emergencies” hit our home from leaking water to backups that translated to two visits from the plumber and Kevin installing a new toilet in one bathroom and a new floor in another bathroom.

37 Weeks Pregnant

We had made it another week, but we were exhausted from house renovations and our to-do list and ready to slow down. We went into our appointment on a Monday, and Kevin had lasik surgery scheduled for the next day. To our surprise, we found out at this appointment (around 37.5 weeks pregnant) that my body had progressed to dilation of 6-7cm.

I was in complete shock. My doctor joked with me, only 3 centimeters left to go! Do you want to have a baby today? As I processed the initial news, we talked through with my doctor the risks versus benefits of waiting for my body to start labor naturally.

Benefits: Full-term is 39 weeks, and there are some developmental positives for baby if you can make it to this milestone.

Risks: If my water breaks at home, between shuffling three kids around and anticipating a fast labor, will we make it to the hospital in time?

I am so grateful for my doctor and how we thought through all these things. She said she supported the decision we felt was best for the next week if we chose an induction. Her only preference was that we don’t go past our due date because of his size.

38 Weeks Pregnant

Kevin has a successful lasik surgery and we both wrapped up work and continued to process an upcoming decision. In the meantime, we had the great privilege of attending a funeral for a dear friend’s father. We started our final weekend before Adrian’s arrival with a sobering reminder that life is precious. We cleared our schedule for the weekend and took time to rest as a family of five.

By Sunday morning, after a night of sporadic contractions, I felt as though Adrian’s head was engaged. I was having more contractions day and night but still nothing consistent enough to go in. Kevin and I were looking forward to going to church and worshiping together for what we felt peace would be our last church service before an induction.

During church service on Sunday, March 24, Kevin received a text message with devastating news. Another close friend’s son had passed away. Kevin and I both received prayer at church from our Prayer Team and wept. How could we process such heavy news in the same 48 hours that we would be meeting our very own son?

And yet, those 48 hours were a gift. We held our own three babies close. We prayed. We processed with community. We took comfort in the good news of the gospel.

From life’s first cry, to final breath, Jesus commands my destiny.

There is much more to say about this moment but truly we are still processing the news. However, we know that God’s timing was not accidental. Adrian Ray’s name means wealth of light. Even in the darkness, God provides a ray of light, and the darkness cannot overcome it.

We had made it another week with my body ready to have a baby, nearly to that 39-week mark. The Lord gave us peace that it was time. I sent my doctor a portal message that we would like to be admitted for delivery instead of attending our 38.5 week appointment.

ADRIAN’S BIRTHDAY

Tuesday, March 26

6:30am

I woke up early and got in the shower, praying for the day. I was awaiting a call back from my doctor that morning with what time we should come in, if we should wait until our scheduled appointment time that afternoon, or head straight in to the Labor and Delivery.

7:30am

My doctor called and said to head straight to the hospital when we were ready, the Family Birthing Center at Lawrence Memorial Hospital was ready for us, and she wished me luck! I got off the phone and immediately got to share the news with our early riser and oldest child, Lydia. Adrian was coming today! We danced and shared the news with Kevin and Eliza as they were waking up.

Lydia wrote down a prayer for the day, one that I will treasure forever. I kept it with me for the hospital stay. In her sweet Kindergarten handwriting, it read, “Lord I feel excited. Please help me to be a big sister for the 3rd time.” I had my usual morning cuddles with Eliza, and we played and sang “sitting on Adrian” for the last time. CJ was the last to wake up. He came out of the room in a moment when the girls happened to follow Kevin downstairs. He sprinted down the long hallway and straight into my arms, and I held him tight. These were my first tears of the day, holding my eldest son. The last day that he would be my littlest baby. What a sweet season it’s been having CJ as the baby.

8:30am

I took Lydia to school blasting “Happy Day” and dancing in the car with the kids, then dropped Eliza, CJ, and suitcases off at my parents’ house. Kevin took our dog to my sister’s house and we agreed to meet back at home. We finished getting ready, packing up our things, and putting some finishing touches on the house. Finally, it was time to go to the hospital!

10:00am

When we arrived at the hospital, I quickly learned that I had been the fascination of the nurses and providers there since they heard the news that I was coming in. Who is this girl that has been walking around at 7cm for a week!? We were greeted with lots of smiles and laughter. They couldn’t believe I was carrying my own bags. (Little did they know that after finding out I was a 7cm, I had still finished my last workout at Blush Boot Camp a few days later, and even ran sprints while dilated at a 7cm, just to say I had!) I was very confident that my body was ready for labor, I just knew we’d need help getting it started!

We prayed over our room and over the day, and as my sister Rosie arrived, we processed our decision to be there. This was my fourth induction. The first one, Lydia, was not my choice, but her heart rate showed potential distress at my 39-week appointment, and I was admitted right away for an induction. For Eliza and CJ, both were elective inductions at 39.5 weeks, which felt more “desperate” than this one. I had been in so much pain and discomfort in my previous pregnancies, but in my final days of my pregnancy with Adrian, I felt physically better than I had at 24-weeks pregnant. What if something doesn’t go well or he’s not healthy, will we regret having an induction at 38.5 weeks? This was good to name, but we quickly spoke what was true. We knew my body was ready, and we knew Adrian was ready. We all made bets on how big he would be!

11:10am

The doctor on call came in and checked for dilation and confirmed I was at 7cm. She gave the all clear to break my water and ordered 2 units of Pitocin to help my contractions become more regular.

We then spent the next hour or so trying to get my IV in place. It’s actually a bit of tradition that I have a vein blown, apparently, I have thick veins. After two failed attempts and a blown vein, the nurse director came in and decided to call IV Therapy from a different wing of the hospital to come in and place two IVs. They wanted a back up placed because I was at a higher risk of hemorrhaging because it’s my fourth delivery. Luckily, the professional knew what he was doing, and IVs were placed.

12:30pm

Dr. Underwood returned to break my water and ordered our nurse, Abby, to start the Pitocin. Labor had officially started! We relaxed and decided to walk the hallways as we caught up with Rosie.

1:15pm

Pitocin was increased 2 units about every 45 minutes. Shortly after the first bump up, I felt my hormones shifting. I felt chills and my first contraction. But Kevin, Rosie and I were still very relaxed, chatting, and enjoying one another’s company. Pitocin was again increased to 6 units to help speed up contractions.

2:15pm

Around 2:15pm, I remember wondering when things would pick up. I looked at the clock and thought about how Eliza would get out of school at 3pm and Lydia at 3:50pm. I thought a lot about my other children during this hour as I had my first stronger contraction, one that I had to stop talking to focus and breathe through. Shortly after we started playing worship music in the room, the song It is Well came on, which reminded me of our angel baby, Micah, my third pregnancy that ended too soon. I felt the spirit of Micah with me even in this moment.

3:00pm

While I knew things were picking up, our nurse still increased Pitocin up to 8 units. I was feeling pressure on my back, so our nurse suggested being in a position that could help turn Adrian’s head in case the pressure in my back was related to him being sunny side up. With worship music playing loud, I labored bent over an elevated bed with my arms folded over the bed, swaying my hips with every contraction. When this position became uncomfortable, we moved the bed so that I could put my knees on the firm mattress and grasp the bed rails with my arms.

Every time a contraction came, I would straighten my back, hold the rails on each side of the bed, and breathe through the contraction. From this moment Kevin and Rosie didn’t leave my side. The phrase that Kevin and I repeated together through the pain was “It is Good.” This was our true statement. Pain, in this case, was not bad. Pain was good. Pain increasing meant we were closer to meeting Adrian.

3:14pm

Things were progressing quickly, and Kevin was adamant that I got checked again. Our nurse checked and I was up to a 9cm. She let our doctor know to be ready.

3:29pm

Within a few contractions, I was feeling the urge to push, and my doctor was waiting outside the door. We moved me into position.

While everyone came in the room and was ready for delivery, I had what felt like a moment that stood still.

I had relief between contractions.
I felt almost nothing except a calm and strong body.
As we waited for the next contraction to come, the whole room was in silence.

I closed my eyes and prayed.
I thanked God for the ability to be in that moment. I took in my whole body, what would be the final moment of this pregnancy, and likely pregnancy forever.

Peace washed over me.

3:33pm

I announced that a contraction was coming. My doctor gave reminders on how to push and told me when it was time. With one contraction and two pushes, Adrian was here.

My eyes were closed when I heard Kevin’s voice in my ears, weeping through tears: He’s here.

Adrian was wide awake, crying, screaming, and breathing.

I held him close on my skin and didn’t let go.

333

Adrian was born in LMH Room 333 at 3:33pm and weighed 9lbs and 9oz. All these numbers seemed far from a coincidence, especially given the symbolism of the number three during the same week we celebrate Easter.

The number three in the Bible represents the number of completion or wholeness. In the same way, Adrian has completed our family. In Scripture, words and phrases repeated 3 times are often important and carry significant spiritual meaning. We had three 3’s and multiples of 3’s, three times. Not to mention on Easter, we celebrate that after three days, Jesus was raised to life.

Already, Adrian has brought a wealth of light to our life and the lives of others. Our nurse at LMH had a few nursing students shadowing her that day who witnessed Adrian’s birth. I was told later by Rosie that each of the students in the room were taking in the worship music and crying as Adrian was born. Afterwards, they asked to hear more about the birth from my experience and leaned in as I opened up. I pray that God uses that moment as a witness and testament to His name in each of their lives. It was His strength that overwhelmed me throughout my pregnancy and during labor.

After our three children and local grandparents visited the hospital, we prepared for our first night of rest. It was in that moment, gazing at Adrian in the bassinet, that I had my second cry of the day. The shock and adrenaline had come down.

Kevin held me close as we took him in and I wept. He’s here.

We were home in time to celebrate Easter. To celebrate our Risen Lord, the Light of the world, who defeated death and darkness once and for all. The tomb is empty and the throne is occupied. Because He is risen, the light of life is given to those who follow Him.

As John 8:12 hangs on the wall above his crib and is repeated over him every night, may Adrian Ray remind us that God provides a wealth of light in every season.

cj’s birth story

THE DAYS BEFORE.

After making it through Eliza’s birthday (12/10) and birthday party (12/11), as well as a few end-of-the-year Christmas parties, we had finally made it to Sunday, our day of rest. A quick COVID test in the morning kicked off our 48-hours of quarantine before a scheduled induction on Tuesday morning, December 14, 2021.

Around 10:30pm on that Sunday night, I started having contractions that lasted a minute and were about 10 minutes apart. This went on for about two hours, and the Lord used this round of false labor to expose the fear and control I had in my heart. CJ’s birth was not up to my physical strength or my timing. God’s strength alone would carry me through labor, day or night, and His timing would be perfect. God used this false labor to help make my final day without CJ born more real, to move it from my logical thought process of having a baby to my heart—to feel the weight of his soon-to-be arrival.

On that Monday (12/13), we had a family day, and I was more present than I would have been because of God’s grace to work on my heart, treasuring time with Kevin, Lydia and Eliza, a warm winter day’s sunshine that allowed us to play outside, and my last day of pregnancy. As I tucked Lydia and Eliza into bed and said goodnight, I came out to the living room couch and wept. The last night of just the two of them without their little brother around. I wrote in Lydia’s prayer journal that night, after having written in Eliza’s the day before. I am so proud of who they both are and the people they are becoming.

THE MORNING.

Kevin and I woke up around six in the morning and embraced. I did the slow roll out of bed that comes with being 9-months pregnant. It had been a physically challenging pregnancy with debilitating lower back pain for most of it. I was long ready to be on the other side. Kevin and I spent the next 45 minutes mostly in silence as we got ready. Little words were spoken, only prayers in our hearts for the day. We woke up Lydia and Eliza and got them ready to go over to my parent’s house in town.

7:15am

As we drove to my parent’s house and on the way to the hospital, God gave us the most beautiful sunrise I have ever seen in Lawrence, Kansas. It was utterly shocking. The words that came across my mind immediately were these: Who is like our God?

[NOTE: If you know my story, you know that these words are significant to me. Who is like our God is the meaning of “Micah” in Hebrew. Micah is the name of the baby we lost to miscarriage in January 2021.]

Immediately I felt Micah with me. This gift from God felt so personal. Like He wanted to just show off and lavish me with His comfort and love. Tears welled as I dropped Lydia and Eliza off, and I sensed Micah remained with me. Thank you God for the most perfect morning.

The song “The Bones” by Maren Morris came on as we drove north down Iowa Street to the hospital, a song that Kevin and I have listened to many times together. A song about handling adversity with someone you love, but not falling or breaking because the foundation is strong. In the hard journey of this last year, our foundation has been built on the rock of Christ. Our marriage has remained strong. No matter what life threw at us, we stood firm in faith and love. I added this song to our labor playlist as the final song and sang out loud as we drove.

8:55am

After getting checked in, IV set up, and getting to know our nurse Colleen, my sister Rosie arrived. We caught up briefly before Dr. Riggs came in to break my water. I was dilated at 5cm, 80% effaced, -2 station. While I hadn’t felt a contraction yet, labor started.

10:18am

After an hour of walking up and down hallways, waiting for contractions to start, I finally felt a slightly stronger contraction.

11:30am

We spent more time walking up and down the hallways, and while I had a few contractions here and there, I was starting to get impatient and feel anxious. Morning was closing down, and so far, I was progressing slower than I had during my induction with Eliza. We returned to the room, and I started considering Pitocin – a medicine that would increase labor and speed of contractions. While I talked this over with Kevin and Rosie, the nurse walked in to tell us that CJ’s heart rate was dropping with contractions. This was most likely a sign that the cord was wrapped around his body somewhere, and likely wrapped around his neck. I was no longer allowed to leave the room. We needed to monitor Caleb’s heart rate closely from here. As I processed this news, the fear and longing to hold my son came. Just as I was considering Pitocin one last time, I felt contractions picking up. I moved to sitting on the stability ball to start active labor.

Shortly after, active labor was increasing, and so was the pain. I looked at my husband and sister in one moment and said, “I feel weak. I feel weaker than I’ve been with past labors.” Kevin shared the gospel truth of God’s strength in me. After a pause, Rosie looked at me and said, “Maggie, you are weak. And THIS is the year you actually embraced that you are weak. You’ve acknowledged that you need God’s strength in ways you never have before, that you can’t do it on your own. Because of this, you’re stronger than I’ve ever seen you before.”

The Holy Spirit took over in that moment. I was reminded instantly of my prayer for 2021: “embrace my humanness.” Many were praying this over my life, and I remember writing it down the day before our miscarriage and asking God to help me understand that my humanness – my brokenness, weakness, and imperfections – were beautiful because HE created me human, and HE designed me to be dependent on Him to be made complete and experience true joy and peace.

This was a turning point for me in labor. I embraced my humanness, my weakness, just like I had all year long. God’s strength became alive in me.

11:55am

I had progressed to 6cm, 0 station. I asked my nurse what position would make labor go the quickest. She recommended laboring on my side with the peanut-shaped ball between my legs.

Rosie and Kevin repeated “keep breathing, relax, stay in control. God’s giving you His strength in each breath.” Kevin held my hand and kept his face near mine, whispering encouragement and truth, while Rosie put pressure on my back when I needed it. I continued to repeat “God’s strength in me” in my mind, sometimes out loud, through most remaining contractions.

12:34pm

As I had at this point mentally prepared to be in labor longer, I decided to try to make it to the bathroom. After using the toilet and enduring a contraction there, I saw blood dripping down my legs. My nurse came in at that moment letting me know that was my “bloody show” and sternly telling me to get back in the hospital bed so she could check me. I was at 8cm, and she said she was going to call in Dr. Riggs.

12:40pm

Within five minutes of returning to the hospital bed, I was feeling the urge to push. I told Kevin this as the room filled with additional nurses and shortly after, my doctor. The nurses and staff all commented on how calm the room was and what great music we had. Maverick City Music’s “Not Afraid” featuring Naomi Raine & Mav City Gospel Choir had just started. One nurse who walked in said, “Jesus-music playing in here. This is my playlist at home!” Dr. Riggs, now gowned and ready, checked me and I was dilated at 10cm! She moved me into the pushing position and told me to push at the next contraction. As she was saying that, a contraction had already started. “Do you mean this one that’s starting right now?” I asked. I got the confirmation to push once and CJ crowned immediately. My doctor paused me long enough to check for a cord around CJ’s neck, and there was no cord. I got the go ahead to push again.

12:45pm

At 12:45pm, just 45 minutes after my moment of weakness and crying out to the Lord, before the 4-minute song ended, Caleb Jordan was born. In the words of Dr. Riggs, he was born with “one push and half a contraction.”

As God’s strength had taken over and the words “I’m not afraid” rang out from the song, I’ve been reminded of truly what a holy moment that was. The lyrics perfectly coincided with the verse that we chose for Caleb Jordan’s nursery and have been praying over his life: “Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or discouraged, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go.” (Joshua 1:9)

Kevin immediately started weeping and I cried out “My son, my son!” repeatedly. It took him a few seconds to start crying, so nurses were using towels to dry him off and get him to start screaming. As the cry started Caleb also started peeing which made us laugh with joy as he was set on my chest. We have a boy! We embraced and treasured our son in our arms.

1:05pm

We saw CJ’s dark hair and deep, blue-grey eyes, similar to his sisters, but other than those features he looked so unique. We examined him head to toe, and I also closed my eyes to just feel him. “It is Well” by Bethel came on the speaker. As Dr. Riggs stitched me up, reporting no major tears, she joked, “I wish you would have pushed more so we could have jammed out to your music longer!” She also told CJ before she left the room that he was one of the luckiest kids she knew. Colleen, our nurse who has been doing labor and delivery for 20+ years, told us later that his birth was one of the most beautiful births she had ever witnessed between our worship of God, our calm and control, and Kevin and my love and support for each other. Another nurse came back in to tell us, “The way you two were together—and maybe it was the music—I just had to say, that was beautiful.” I treasure all these words and praise God for creating such a holy space for Caleb’s birth, and write them here so one day I can share them with my son, remembering every detail.

2:20pm

I needed medicine to help my uterus continue to contract because it was not firming up fast enough. Kevin enjoyed his first skin to skin time with CJ and Rosie returned with Chipotle for my lunch. The nurse took CJ’s vitals, and after speculating over/under 9 pounds, we all cheered and laughed when the scale showed us: 9 pounds, 12 ounces. He measured 21.5 inches – so he passed Eliza in weight and Lydia in height, making him our biggest baby of our three!

GOING HOME.

At 6am the next morning, during an early morning nursing hour, Kevin and I turned on The Voice season finale. This was a redemptive moment for us. In January, we had watched the Season 19 finale during our actual miscarrying and passing of baby Micah. We would pause the show during frequent trips to the bathroom and sessions of tears, and it helped distract the pain of the cramping and miscarriage that lasted late into the night. It’s not a memory I choose to look back on often, but as the Lord redeems in ways ever so personal, He redeemed this memory too. We watched Season 21 of The Voice finale, but this time with Caleb born, holding him in our arms.

We had just a few performances left to watch when a nurse came in early to take Caleb away to do his circumcision, so we stopped the show and tried to get another hour of sleep.

As we were preparing to leave and waiting on discharge medications, we decided to play the final few minutes of the season finale. I set out a few different outfits to dress CJ for coming home. The final performance by Wendy Moten was “Over the Rainbow.” I looked down at the two rainbow outfits I held in my two hands, gifted to us for our “rainbow baby.” I said out loud to Kevin, “Well, this song is appropriate,” and held up the rainbows to show him.

Kevin, holding Caleb in his arms, immediately broke into tears, and my tears came shortly after as I processed the weight of that moment.

We miscarried Micah while watching the finale of this show.
We held Caleb close in the hospital while watching the finale of this show.
We were minutes away from going home, from bringing our healthy baby boy home.
The final song of the episode, that we happened to be watching in this moment, sang so beautifully, was “Over the Rainbow.”

God sees us.
God redeems our pain and restores our joy, so personally.
Thank you, God, for your great love.

Kevin and I held each other and cried as we looked down at Caleb Jordan Tietz, our rainbow baby, our unexpected miracle. And within minutes from that moment, we took him home.

–

When God made you, CJ, this much is true—
the world got to meet who God already knew.

pandemic milestone.

May 17, 2020May 18, 2020Leave a comment

It’s not a wedding, or a graduation, or a funeral, or the birth of a child. This milestone may seem small on the outside, or small from the casual smile and shrug when you ask me. But the truth is that it hit me deep in the soul. My first milestone to occur during the COVID-19 pandemic: my daughter’s second birthday.

Two months ago, many in Kansas said that May 15 would be the date that things would start to get better. While some stay-at-home orders have lifted, it’s not the end, and it turns out we are nowhere close to an end in sight.

Don’t get me wrong, I know I have it good. My family is beyond blessed. But the purpose of this writing and this processing is an effort to not play the “comparative suffering” game. In my own circumstances, I am processing loss and change. I must grieve.

O U R . G R I E F .

I’m grieving that the last two months of Lydia’s second year of life, she didn’t hug nor play with many of her favorite people. She didn’t go to many of her favorite places. No kids church, no toddler gymnastics, no parks, no visit to see her grandparents in Texas, no play dates or babysitters, no chance to be the flower girl in our friends’ wedding, no softball or baseball games… the list could go on.

The things I am missing out on as an adult pale in comparison to the loss I feel for my daughter. My heart aches for her. It hurts. I feel a weight that is hard to explain. The pain I feel for Lydia’s loss of life’s experiences, diversity of people, sports, and activity is multitudes more than my own loss.

Day by day, I make an effort to focus on the positives. But for a moment, I can’t escape from what’s been hard. Like the moment when, during a “social distance” dinner with friends in our driveway, Lydia knew to keep a distance before I even told her. She learned from imitating the actions she saw everyone else doing to keep a distance. Or the moment when she asked if her two best friends could come to her birthday party, but she’s too young to understand why the answer is no. Or when she asks to go to the gym and upon hearing it’s closed, she responds with a prayer: Please God, open the gym! I admit that her prayer has more faith than my own.

And while she is too young to understand a global pandemic or perhaps even recognize a daily difference, more than it’s hurting her, it’s hurting me.

Outside of social media and select family, now for over two months, some of our closest friends aren’t seeing the beautiful young girl that she has grown into over the past few months.

They’ve never heard her sweet excited voice speak in full sentences or sing entire songs.
They’ve never heard her use the words please, thank you, I’m sorry, great job, I’m proud of you, and I love you—words in her daily vocabulary.
They’ve never heard her makes jokes just to get you to laugh.
They’ve never seen her use her newfound imagination to play “make believe.”

So much has happened in her little life. She picked up a ball bat and took a swing for the first time. And let’s not forget the fact that she’s potty trained! They’ve never seen her pride and joy every time she makes it to the potty, just waiting for mama and dada’s celebration and her piece of chocolate reward.

I wish they could see.

O U R . T I M E .

Some days the quarantine feels like life has paused.
like we’ve slowed down,
and
we can appreciate the simpler moments.

But as this milestone passed us,
it reminded me that
time
doesn’t
stand still.

Time moves forward no matter how much we try to slow it down.

No matter how many things are canceled
no matter how many free evenings and weekends we have

Time moves on.

Which is why, I must remind myself of truth: these losses are not worth dwelling on. Time goes far too quickly to dwell on the things you can’t control.

I must grieve,
yes,
and then
let go.

I must move on.

I must let go of the what-ifs and could-have-been and remember what is eternally important.

.

This quarantine has been an incredible opportunity to teach Lydia real life skills and to rejoice in the simple pleasures of life. Every night, we recite our family motto together: “We are the Tietz Family,” Kevin and I start, “and in this family we…”

Lydia usually prefers to finish it herself. “We live simply, give more, and expect less… because we have all we need in Jesus.”

She may have it memorized, but that doesn’t mean she knows what it means. Well, not yet. We are planting seeds that one day, we pray, will bear fruit.

We are modeling a family that eats meals together, takes care of each other, laughs together, prays together, reads God’s Word together, exercises together, takes care of our home and yard together, forgives, celebrates, and loves.

We are modeling a family that endures. We don’t always get what we want, and not everything in life will be in our control. We have to be brave when things are hard. We have to ask for God’s help when we are afraid.

We have to remember to live simply, give more, and expect less.
Why?
Because we really, truly, have all we need in Jesus.
and
for eternity
that’s what counts.

Lord, help me let go.

O U R . H O P E .

On April 29, 2019, I started reading the Bible chronologically with the hopes of finishing it in a year. 364 days later, I finished Revelation 22, the last chapter.

I was reminded in that chapter of our eternal hope. The timing was fitting. By the way, this is how the entire Bible ends:

‘I, Jesus, have sent my angel to testify to you about these things for the churches. I am the root and the descendant of David, the bright morning star.’ The Spirit and the Bride say, ‘Come.’ And let the one who hears say, ‘Come.’ And let the one who is thirsty come; let the one who desires take the water of life without price.

…He who testifies to these things says, ‘Surely I am coming soon.’ Amen. Come, Lord Jesus! (Revelation 22:16-17, 20)

Jesus reminds us that He is the promised one, the one that fulfilled all the laws and all the prophecies from of old. And we are reminded that those who want Jesus, get Jesus. The one who is thirsty can come to Him, drink from the water of life without price.

There is no price to pay,
no checklist of things we must do,
or we must achieve,
or we must get right before we come.

We get to come without price because Jesus paid the price for our sin on the Cross. And He promises that He will come again.

.

So when we see the pandemic at hand, the death count rising, with no end in sight
Come, Lord Jesus!
When we read yet another headline of a racially driven murder
Come, Lord Jesus!
When we feel helpless to comfort friends, spouses, children, or parents, those we love the most
Come, Lord Jesus!
When our private thoughts and actions are exposed, and we must confess our own sin
Come, Lord Jesus!
When we hold walls up to others or self-harm because it feels like the only thing we can control
Come, Lord Jesus!

When we teach our kids that we have “all we need in Jesus,” this is what we mean: All of our hope, our joy, and our satisfaction is found not in material things. It’s found not in the exhilarating experiences of life like sporting events or big parties. Whether homebound or traveling the world, whether richer or poorer, whether sickness or health, no matter our circumstances, our hope in Jesus is one thing that doesn’t change, even when our world changes.

.

So as I reflect on Lydia’s second birthday and let go of birthday party hopes and dreams, or what could have been for her these last few months, I am reminded of the opportunity to point my daughter to her ultimate hope. No matter the trials she faces in her life on this earth, may those seeds be planted, that even she has all she needs – not in mama or dada or birthday cake or balloons – but in Jesus.

In Lydia’s heart, mind, and soul
Come, Lord Jesus.

Eliza’s Birth Story

December 23, 2019December 23, 2019Leave a comment

Eliza Rose Tietz
Born 11:17 AM on Tuesday, December 10, 2019
8 lbs 12 oz, 20 inches

15 DAYS BEFORE

I will always remember Eliza’s birth story not just for the day, but for the two weeks leading up to the day. God used these two weeks of an emotional, spiritual, and physical roller coaster to break me down and bring me to complete and utter dependence on His power and will and not my own strength. Praise and glory be to God!

Eliza’s birth story started on Monday, November 25 shortly after my 38-week doctor’s appointment when I thought I was in labor. I had always expected to make it to Thanksgiving. Work and volunteer projects were wrapping up before then and I was looking forward to spending the holiday with family. With a due date of December 13, I always just assumed we would make it at least to December.

So when I was dilated at over a 5cm at my appointment, and my doctor asserted that she wasn’t sure how it was possible that I wasn’t in labor yet based on my dilation and enfacement, she encouraged me that as soon as I felt contractions of any kind to head into the hospital. So naturally, when about one hour later, I started counting regular contractions (the third time in the previous four days), I assumed I was in labor and started wondering how soon to head to the hospital. I sent panic texts to my boss, my mom, and my sister. My sister stopped by my house while running errands and talked me down, giving me the hard-but-needed truth that I probably wasn’t actually in labor. A few hours later as contractions came to a halt, I figured it was still only a matter of days before Eliza was ready to come. At least, that’s what my doctor told me, that’s what everyone was telling me.

14 DAYS BEFORE

I woke up the next morning about an hour before Kevin and Lydia and immediately went to sit with the Lord. My head was spinning. I was tired. I asked the Lord, where do I go from here? I prayed for God’s perfect timing and for His perfect peace. Throughout the false labor over the previous few days, instead of feeling peace, I’d felt extreme anxiety. During one round that was late at night, in the middle of a contraction behind a closed bathroom door, I begged God pleading that I wasn’t actually in labor. Then immediately after I broke down as shame filled me. Am I not ready to meet my daughter? Shouldn’t I only feel excitement and joy over the idea of being in labor? Through the false labor, my heart was exposed to so many fears I’d buried and so many things I was holding on to. I acknowledged that morning that God alone is the author of Eliza’s birth story. He alone is in control. But the work that God was doing in my heart had only just begun.

10 DAYS BEFORE

I spent a long Thanksgiving weekend actually resting, physically. After several days in a row of false labor and losing my mucus plug, any physical movement toward labor had completely halted. In wondering how I suddenly felt like I could carry my baby another several weeks, I realized that this was an answered prayer. After the confusing contractions I’d been having, I asked sisters in my community to pray for clarity. I thought the answer to this prayer would be my water breaking. Instead, the Lord answered this prayer by making it clear that this week was not His perfect timing. I spent a few days actually enjoying pregnancy as I finished up a devotional, Labor in Hope by Gloria Furman, and reflected on the way that labor and childbirth so beautifully displays the gospel and mirrors the suffering and new life of Jesus on the Cross. The word “grace” was laid on my heart to meditate on as I prepared for labor and delivery. In the midst of anticipated pain and unknowns, it was grace that I would labor with the hope of meeting my daughter! I felt as if the Lord has given me spiritual, mental, emotional, and physical preparation and rest.

6 DAYS BEFORE

With every day that passed, I was wrapping up work and Young Life activities, house projects, and Christmas shopping and decorating. I went into my 39-week appointment curious and slightly anxious — especially since it was my 39-week appointment with Lydia that I showed up at the hospital and didn’t leave until five days later, due to a medical induction! (Click here for Lydia’s Birth Story.)

Yet just as I suspected, nothing had physically changed since my previous appointment. Although I saw a different doctor, I got the same “I don’t know how you’re not in labor” and “you better hurry to the hospital as soon as contractions start.” However, the doctor offered something I didn’t expect. She offered to schedule an induction for the following week on Tuesday, December 10, the day our doctor was on call. All of her disclaimers, outside of my body being ready, were “you can cancel at any point” and “you probably won’t make it to Tuesday anyways.” Kevin and I took her advice and scheduled the induction. As we walked out to our cars in the parking lot and before rushing to get back to work, we processed briefly the option. Are we taking control into our own hands by choosing to induce before our due date? If we follow through with this, will I ever have the “experience” of going into labor naturally?

That night after putting Lydia to sleep, we sat down for the first time all day. The living room was dark except for a single strand of Christmas lights on our small Christmas tree. As we talked and prayed through the induction and dug beneath the surface of timing and logistics, I realized the truth of my hesitation around an induction and what had been holding me back from experiencing peace this entire time. As much as I “knew” how amazing it would be to meet Eliza and become a family of four, what I also saw in front of me was this season of being a family of three coming to an end. This season of having just Lydia as my only child – sweet Lydia, filled with so much laughter and joy – giving her my full attention – was now six or less days away from ending. Somehow putting an actual date on the calendar made me stop and actually process not just the transition that was coming, but the season that was ending.

I needed to grieve the current season coming to an end in the midst of the joy and anticipation of the next. I wasn’t ready to let go of this season. I was afraid of change. As Kevin picked up one of Lydia’s stuffed bears from the coffee table, we reflected on what an amazing 19 months it had been becoming parents and getting to know our girl. We both wept. Ready or not, this season, the sweetest season we’ve known on this side of heaven, was ending in a matter of days.

At this point I was already praising God for the gift of scheduling an induction. If it wasn’t for putting a date on the calendar, I’m not sure if my busy-and-achieving self would have actually stopped to process and grieve the season we were leaving behind. That night by the Christmas tree was a gift. I needed to embrace the coming change in the midst of unknowns. And those tears were oh, so needed.

5 DAYS BEFORE

Determined to soak up every last second of giving Lydia my full attention, yet another turn of events happened the next day. I had been dealing with hemorrhoids for the better half of my pregnancy, but on this Thursday, the pain started to become unbearable. I couldn’t walk or really even sit, let alone pick up my toddler or play with her without wincing in pain. I questioned God and wondered, hasn’t the emotional and spiritual roller coaster been enough? I quickly realized that God was pealing back yet another layer of my calloused heart – the physical. I had prided myself on doing a natural childbirth with Lydia. As I hoped and prepared for a natural birth with Eliza, a whole new level of fear had overcome me. How am I supposed to endure the pain of labor when I feel so weak already? During my pregnancy with Lydia, I had been able to maintain regular workouts, and I felt fit and healthy. During my pregnancy with Eliza, I could barely get through a day of chasing a toddler around and was lucky to get in a walk around the block in a week. And now this constant, piercing hemorrhoid pain had me laying on the couch for a moment of relief. What will I do if the pain level, my starting point, is already here? How will I get through this? The next layer of fear and doubt was exposed.

4 DAYS BEFORE

We made it to Friday, the end of the week, and I started to have more peace about the induction on Tuesday simply by the way this pregnancy had taken a toll on my body. Eliza was low and, labor or not, my body was ready. Yes, I was afraid of change. I was afraid of the unknown. I was afraid of the pain. I was afraid of how weak I felt. And yet, as I meditated on God’s promises, I rejoiced in truth: I am no longer a slave to fear because I am a child of God! Instead of focusing on what I couldn’t control – my ability to hold onto seasons or how I felt physically – I set my mind on God’s graciousness to me to expose my own natural tendency to rely on myself and my own strength.

I meditated on the truth of Psalm 62:11, which says “power belongs to God.” I wrote these words in my journal: In childbirth and labor, in parenting, I MUST have FAITH in God’s strength alone… in HIS power that is at work within me.

Yes, I am weak. Yes, my flesh will fail. But God’s Holy Spirit is strong in me.

I spent the next several days resting. My hemorrhoid pain slowly became manageable and I was able to soak in special moments with Lydia and Kevin. I experienced peace and joy as we moved closer to Tuesday, the day we would finally meet our daughter Eliza.

TUESDAY, DECEMBER 10

6:20 AM

I sat down with a cup of coffee and a bowl of oatmeal to pray. I wrote in my journal: Happy Birthday, Eliza Rose. At this point I had let go of expectations and was ready to set my heart on the Lord. I praised God for the way He had used the last two weeks to call out all the ways I doubted myself and doubted Him, and to increase my dependence on God as the source of my power and strength. The last two weeks were truly a gift. I had prayed for peace and excitement in His perfect timing, and I felt every bit of that on Tuesday morning. I meditated on Eliza Rose’s name, which means “joyful promise.” I prayed that when the doubts creep back in, whether during labor or in the weeks to come, that I would only think or look at Eliza and be redirected to remember God’s joy-filled promises!

7 AM

We dropped off Lydia at my parents’ house on the way to the hospital wearing her “Big Sister” shirt. We got to talk with her about what a special day it was because she was finally going to meet her baby sister! We hugged and kissed her goodbye and told her that we would see her later that day. Minutes later, Kevin and I walked through the doors of Lawrence Memorial Hospital, hand in hand, for our 7:30 AM induction.

8:15 AM

After meeting our nurse and getting settled in, my doctor came in to check my dilation and see if Eliza was in the proper position to break my water or if we would need to start Pitocin. My doctor shared with a smile that not only was Eliza in position, but that I was already dilated to 7cm! Immediately I started praising God again. Not simply for the head start in labor and the likelihood of not needing Pitocin, but for His provision. Had I gone into labor naturally and tried to labor at home for even 30 minutes, we might not have made it to the hospital in time. The Lord intended every step of the way and it was His will for us to plan an induction and start labor at the hospital!

My doctor broke what she called a “firm bag of water” and we agreed to wait and see how my body would naturally respond from here. Our nurse put on Eliza’s heart and contraction monitors, and Kevin and I started walking the hallways of the labor and delivery wing.

My sister Rosie arrived shortly after and we caught up on the week, laughed and made jokes, and looked at the homemade hats that they offer for every new baby. We sent text messages and marco polos to friends and family and time passed quickly.

8:55 AM

I paused mid conversation due to a contraction that was strong enough that I couldn’t walk through it. After a few more laps and higher intensity contractions, it was time to return to our hospital room. Active labor was coming soon!

9:25 AM

We continued to converse between contractions as I sat and labored on a ball. Contractions started to pick up intensity as I focused on breathing through them, swaying side-to-side. Excitement and peace rose up in me as I realized that I had naturally progressed to active labor. I mentioned to the nurse between contractions that I felt like I needed to use the restroom, but she told me that at this point any urge I felt was the urge to push, so I would need to fight through the pressure until I was fully dilated. As I commented on the pressure I was beginning to feel almost instantly in my lower back, she recommended that I switch labor positions. This confirmed a suspicion that my placenta was located in front and Eliza was low and back (no surprise given the hemorrhoids, early dilation, and other pregnancy-related aches and pains).

10:10 AM

I laid on my side with a peanut ball between my legs and immediately I felt Eliza start to move. I continued to feel intense pressure on my back, so the nurse started pushing on my lower back, and showed Rosie how to do the same. Any time a contraction came on from there, I had Kevin at my side talking me through breathing and helping me focus on the Lord and on Eliza, and Rosie pushing pressure on my back. I was able to close my eyes and relax as I could physically feel Eliza getting lower.

10:23 AM

The nurse checked me, and I had progressed to an 8-9cm and Eliza was rotating into position! While we tried to switch sides for dilation, we quickly saw that Eliza’s heart rate had decreased, so I rolled back onto my right side with the ball between my legs. I hit the highest level of pain at this point, but I remained relaxed and in control, and we started playing worship music through our Bluetooth speaker.

I meditated on the words of the songs with every contraction. Different than my previous labor that focused on attacking and embracing pain, I didn’t want to think about the pain this time around. I told Kevin to repeat the lyrics of the song to me. I mouthed the words too, when I was able. I knew that I was going to meet my daughter soon after only being in active labor for an hour. All I wanted to do at this point was worship God!

I’m no longer a slave to fear. I am a child of God…
You are constant through the trial and the change…
Jesus, Jesus, You make the darkness tremble… Jesus, Jesus You silence fear…
The storm surrounding me, let it break, at Your Name…
How He loves us, oh, how He loves us…
Where feet may fail and fear surrounds me, You never fail, and You won’t start now…
Sing like never before, O my soul, I worship Your holy Name…

10:57 AM

Despite how quickly things were progressing, I was certain now that I was feeling the urge to push. After being checked by the nurse and hearing that I was almost to 10cm, I moved positions once more and my nurse called the doctor in.

11:08 AM

My doctor, who also was with me to deliver Lydia, didn’t even check me when she walked in. She knew me as her patient and trusted me. She immediately started gowning up after hearing the report from the nurse and instructing her team that it was time to push. Within a few minutes, I moved to my back and into position to push.

11:17 AM

After only seven minutes of pushing through three contractions, Eliza Rose Tietz was born into the world and placed on my chest. I saw her and immediately started repeating “that’s my daughter, that’s my daughter, that’s my daughter…” Kevin cried at my side. I held her close as the doctor delivered the placenta and stitched a few abrasions, letting me know that I didn’t tear or need an episiotomy, like I did with Lydia. Again, I praised God. We studied our daughter over head to toe. She was beautiful. She was perfect.

12:25 PM

It wasn’t until an hour later that my tears came. Kevin left the room to greet Lydia in the hallway and carry her back inside to meet her sister. As soon as I saw Lydia, immediately the reality set in. This moment made it real. For the first time we were together as a family of four.

9 DAYS LATER

12.19.19

Today is my birthday. I am holding my daughter Eliza on my chest as I write this. This day marks another day I’ve been dreaming of – hopeful that by this day – my birthday – six days after her due date – that we would spend the day in our Christmas-decorated home – but most of all – with our healthy baby girl.

We are here.

Tears of joy come as I look at her and tell her that she’s everything I’ve dreamed of, and more. The nine long months of pregnancy really are done. Labor is in the past. We are on the other side, a family of four.

This is our new normal.
This is my life.
It’s simple, but it’s beautiful.

I’ve been reflecting this day on my 29 years of life. The trials that I faced in adolescence brought me on my knees before God. Ultimately this led me to a Christian community where I met my husband, the most God-fearing and loyal man I know. And through our union God orchestrated and created LIFE in Lydia Evelyn and Eliza Rose. And together, Kevin and I have the privilege of stewarding these little lives. Of raising them and teaching them and loving them. There are truly no words for the gratitude I feel. I am fighting hard to not take a day – or night – for granted. I know this may be impossible but still I will try, striving to daily surrender expectations to the Lord and open my hands in a posture of thanksgiving.

As we reflect on the celebration of the birth of Jesus this advent season, I’m still in awe that my waiting for Eliza is over. When I stop long enough to really, truly look at her, I feel fullness of joy. In the joy of this birth, I am reminded of the ultimate joy at hand as we celebrate the birth of our Savior, Jesus Christ, into the world. God became human to dwell among us, to die for us, and to rise for us. And as it is written on the sign above Eliza’s crib, “blessed is she who believed that the Lord would fulfill His promises to her” (Luke 1:45).

finished.

May 28, 2019May 28, 20191 Comment

After breastfeeding for about a month after finding out I was pregnant with our second baby, first trimester nausea was in full-swing. In the week before Lydia’s first birthday, not only was I ready to be done, but I could tell Lydia was ready too. So on May 6, I was prepared to nurse Lydia for the last time. The next day I was leaving town for a Young Life Staff Conference for three days, so the timing was perfect to wean her completely off our last remaining feeding, the nighttime feeding.

Our family was out late that evening with our church City Group. When we got home, I started Lydia’s normal bedtime routine, mentally and emotionally preparing for my last time breastfeeding Lydia. Despite feeling ready to be done, this was still a significant and emotional moment. Whether Lydia was teething, tired, coming off a cold, or a combination, she refused to nurse and on the contrary, wouldn’t stop screaming. My husband suggested that we just put her straight into her crib for bed, and I glared back and him and sternly responded “no.” And I tried again. And again. And again. Lydia’s screaming only got louder.

As my daughter cried in my arms
unwilling to nurse
I gave up
what was supposed to be my last time nursing her
never happened
it was gone
there would be no last time.
I held her
and cried just as loud
I let go
this season,
it is finished.

L O O K I N G . B A C K .

We read a bedtime story through tears and my daughter went straight to sleep immediately after laying her in her crib. As I exited the nursery, my husband was concerned about my strong emotions yet confused. I explained to him the thoughts racing through my mind:

Memories.
The very first time Lydi nursed, what seemed like minutes after she was born.
The emotional roller coaster of trying to get her to latch after my milk came in, feeling helpless for days.
The six months of her not eating any solid foods, only nursing for nutrition and survival.
The late, dark nights and early, dark mornings.
The countless hours and hours of feeding her.
The special bond that only mama had with her.
Done.
Gone.
Finished.

But more than just this simple act of nursing her, it was more.
Weaning represented the physical symbol of the present reality.
The first year of my first baby’s life is over, and I will never get it back.

Being pregnant through all this surely wasn’t helping the hormones and the emotions. But as I explained to Kevin the bigger picture and processing her first year being done, he understood. In fact, he joined in the reminiscing and sat and cried with me. We talked memories of her first year, from the moment we met her to taking her home from the hospital, to all her firsts. We celebrated the walking, talking, full-of-joy toddler that she is now. We grieved the time that we’ll never get back but laughed at the memories that we’ll hold forever. We continue to stand utterly in awe of how it’s possible to love a child so incredibly deeply.

I wish time could rewind, stand still, and move forward all at the same time. And yet, it moves forward. And in healthy emotional and spiritual processing, so will I.

T H R E E . D A Y S .

After three days away, I came home ready to embrace our new routine and celebrate my little girl’s first birthday. As I write this, I notice the way that God’s presence was with me throughout the week. If it wasn’t for the series of events that night, I may not have taken the time to feel, grieve, and process the emotions that came along with the change. God used selfishly unfavorable events to bring about greater good. Though it was hard to see in the moment, after three days away, I came home excited to continue to love Lydia and meet her needs in the countless other ways that only mamas can do.

The phrase, “It is finished,” reminds me of another scene in John 19. On Calvary’s Hill, the Son of God, who lived a perfect, sinless life, experienced the undeserving weight of sin and death on the Cross. After three days, Jesus rose from the dead. God used selfishly unfavorable events to bring about greater good. Though it was hard to see in the moment, after three days away, He resurrected to give us hope, joy, adoption, peace, and a promise of eternal life for those who trust in Him.

Really, “It is finished” was only the beginning.

.

In the case of my very normal, mundane life, the same hymn rings true.
As we celebrated her first birthday with family and friends
It marked the end of year zero
And the beginning of year one.

Lydia Evelyn, we are excited to continue to watch you grow and see who you become.
Really, sweet girl, it’s only the beginning.