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.

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.

rest assured.

October 4, 2018Leave a comment

Sleep. The most talked about baby subject. There are the most books, the most resources, and the most conversations all surrounding your baby’s sleep. The first question that other parents often ask me is, how is she sleeping?

What makes something so basic, like sleep, so complicated?

Sleep. Let’s think about this critically for just a moment.
God created us to need sleep,
therefore God created us with limits,
which means God created us to rest.

F I G H T I N G . R E S T.

About a month ago, we were knee-deep into the 4-month sleep regression with Lydia when we realized that our lives just hit a major transition. She went from being a newborn who could sleep whenever and wherever, to a baby who fights sleep.

After several nights in a row of her turning to a different baby at about the seven o’clock hour – from her smiley, giggling self to complete melt down – we realized that nothing was wrong other than she was simply tired. But she wouldn’t just go to sleep like she had in the past. We had to spend a significant amount of time soothing her and helping her fall asleep.

Out of that season has come an established a sleep time routine for 2-3 naps a day and a bedtime at 7pm. We put her in her sleep sack, turn on the sound machine, rock her, and hum How Great the Father’s Love for Us. Within moments she calms down and often I will hear a soft sigh of giving up and see her eyes roll back and her heavy lids start to close. I keep rocking her until her eyes are closed and then set her down in her crib to rest.

Lydia needs my help going to sleep. As we approach the six-month mark, when babies are considered old enough to self-sooth, we will embark on this idea of “sleep training” which can take on various forms. I find it so interesting that something so simple, something so basic, we need to be trained in and assisted with, but I’m sure more to come on this in future writings.

But for now, I’ll do what I always do with this blog. Take the normal circumstances of everyday motherhood and let God reveal Himself to me and teach me through them.

C R E A T E D . F O R . R E S T.

If you are familiar with the creation story in Genesis, God created the world in six days and on the seventh day, He rested from His work (Genesis 2:2).

When God gave the Ten Commandments to Moses, He declared that one day a week should be held as the Sabbath. This day should be kept as a holy day of rest and Israel should remember when the Lord brought them out of slavery and set them free (Deuteronomy 5:12-15).

God created us to rest.

While I don’t know all the answers, I believe that one of the reasons God created us with limits is to remind us that we are dependent on God for all our needs. Just like He called Israel to rest for the sake of remembering, our rest should remind us that we cannot depend on ourselves, but on God alone.

He created us to need Him, therefore He created us to rest.

C H O O S I N G . R E S T .

So what does rest, as an adult, look like? Yes, it is sleep in a sense, but I think at a certain age, it becomes more.

Cycles of rest should be a regular part of our day, our week, and our year. It can be as simple as returning to the Lord in the morning for prayer before we start our day, attending church on Sundays and having a day devoted to not working, or taking vacations or retreats a few times a year for rest. It should be a time when we get rid of expectations and commitments and turn our eyes on the Lord. To do the things that stir our affections for Him, whether that be a community, a hobby, or silence. We must prioritize rest. We must figure out what rest looks like for us and practice it, or we will risk burnout, exhaustion, or worse.

I am a lot like Lydia. I fight rest. As an achiever, I am always thinking of the next thing that needs to get done, the next person I need to see, and what’s coming the next day. I need God’s help to remind myself to stop. To hide my phone in the other room. To sip my coffee slow and appreciate the little moments of each day. To set appropriate boundaries and block off whole days or evenings to spend time with family and without the expectation of feeling the need to get anything done.

And I know that this is not uniquely me. In my community group last week, we talked about the idea of rest, and every person in the room admitted… we don’t know how to rest. We don’t know what it looks like to “honor the Sabbath” in our twenty-first century, American lives with smart phones and deadlines and constant demands surrounding us.

Somehow we fight
the very thing
we were created for.

Just because God created us for something, doesn’t make it easy. He created us to follow Him and be in a relationship with Him, yet we all know that following Him in the midst of the world’s temptations isn’t a walk in the park. Just like Lydia needs my help with her sleep, God wants us to ask Him for His help. He wants to help us follow Him. He wants to help us rest and be our rest. He wants us, through Him alone, to experience freedom.

When we choose to do what God ultimately created us to do, we feel peace, we feel fulfillment, and we feel freedom.

So by choosing rest, you’re choosing obedience.
By choosing rest, you’re choosing Jesus.
By choosing rest, you’re choosing freedom, rest assured.

“Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” (Matthew 11:28)

Mother’s Day.

May 13, 2018January 23, 2019Leave a comment

Today is my first Mother’s Day, and as Kevin reminded me last night, the first of the rest of my life.

When I saw this date, May 13, 2018, just eight days away from my due date, I wondered if I would be spending Mother’s Day pregnant, in the hospital, or on the other side of Lydia’s birth. In this moment, early in the morning after yet another night of restless sleep, I sit in our nursery, wondering about meeting my daughter.

Baby Lydia’s room is on the east corner of our house, with two large windows facing the east. The morning sunrise shines brightly through the windows, light filling the space. Everything in her room is in order. Her clothes are washed, folded, and put away with a few dresses hanging in the closet. Her diaper changing pad sits on an old, hand-me-down dresser, big enough to store all of her diaper and sanitary needs. Her various blankets are folded and hung from a wooden ladder. Her books and a few toys are organized neatly in a crate on the floor. A white wall clock ticks as time passes, every second marking one second closer to her birthday. Decorations are set, custom designed with her name on them and Bible verses that already ring true in her life. I sit in our new rocking chair, swollen feet propped up on the ottoman, computer on my lap with my hands laid gently to the side of my 38 centimeter belly, watching my daughter’s movements as I type.

As my motherly instincts set in, I find an inner desire to bring her home to a clean, organized and prepared space. Like a mother bird building her nest, our little nest for Lydia is finally complete. As we put together the finishing touches for her nursery this weekend, I was reminded of Jesus’ words that He shared with His disciples during the Last Supper.

“Let not your hearts be troubled. Believe in God; believe also in Me. In my Father’s house are many rooms. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to Myself, that where I am you may be also.” (John 14:1-3)

L E T . N O T .

In this simple passage, Jesus acknowledges our anxiety about that which is uncertain. In the context, Jesus had just finished prophesying Peter’s denial, and He was letting His close friends know that He was leaving them. Why? Because He had to die on a Cross in order to fulfill God’s great plan for the redemption of humanity. Yet we can hear these words, let not your hearts be troubled, and we can apply them to that which is uncertain in our own lives.

What day will I go into labor?
Will I be ready?
Will she be healthy?
What will life be like on the other side of her birth?

B E L I E V E .

Jesus’ response to why we should not be troubled? Because we have the incredible opportunity to believe in the promises of God fulfilled in the person of Jesus. These promises proclaim that He is sovereign over our circumstances, doubts, and fears because He goes before all things (Colossians 1:17). To my uncertainties, I need only to choose belief, and He grants me peace in the midst of the unknown.

He knows the day.
He has prepared me.
Her life is in His hands.
God will be with me on the other side of her birth.

A . P L A C E . F O R . Y O U .

Jesus says that He goes ahead of us to prepare a place for each of us. He says there are many rooms in His Father’s house, and one of those rooms seems to be set aside for each of His children. In this promise, I now think of Lydia Evelyn’s room.

As we prepare a place for her in our house
before her arrival,
Jesus has given me the perfect picture of the way
He is preparing a place for us in Heaven
before our arrival.

I imagine the joy that we will have when we bring Lydia home for the first time. One of the first things I’ll do is bring her into her room to show her all the preparations we’ve made for her. I’ll show her the closet and all her adorable clothes that her friends and family have purchased for her. I’ll show her the dresser, reassuring her that her needs will be cared for. I might let her feel her soft blankets, and tell her of the ones made by and in honor of her great grandmothers. I’ll show her some of her books and her toys. I’ll glance at the clock, which will remind me that the waiting is over, and I’ll tell her how happy I am to have her home. I’ll read her aloud the Scripture that hangs over her crib and tell her about Jesus. And then, soon enough, I’ll sit with her in my rocking chair, feet propped up on the ottoman, to spend intimate time feeding her and holding her.

Is this the way that God, our Father, waits to be fully united with us in heaven?
Is this the kind of joy that He experiences after our long awaited arrival?
Will we get to heaven, greeted by our Father, and He’ll immediately show us with eager excitement this place that He has prepared for us?

W H E R E . I . A M .

Jesus reassures His disciples that He will be coming back, even after death. He will rise from the dead.
Why?
To take us to Himself, so that where He is, we may be also (John 14:3).
He knows that in the deepest longing of our hearts, we need nothing more than to be with Him.

Why does God love us so much? Why does He want us to be with Him intimately? Are we not imperfect people that constantly fall short of His holiness?

With renewed perspective on my first Mother’s Day, I think about all we’ve done to prepare for Lydia. What has she done for me? Absolutely nothing. (In fact, made my life a little less convenient these last nine months!) However, I don’t love her because of what she’s done. She’s done nothing to earn our countless hours spent preparing a place for her. I love her because of who she is.

Because she is my daughter,
I long to meet her
to spend time with her in our home.
Because she is my daughter,
I prepare a place for her.

.

God loves you, did you know that? And it’s not because of what you’ve done or what you haven’t done or what you deserve. He loves you because you are His son or His daughter. He is preparing a place for me and for you. What other response do we have, but to believe?

“I will not leave you as orphans; I will come to you. Yet a little while and world will see Me no more, but you will see Me. Because I live, you also will live.” (John 14:18-18)

rise redeemed

Tag: Jesus