The Power of a Voice

This morning I did something I haven't done in twenty-four days:  I walked into Audrey's and Luke's rooms and loudly bellowed, "GOOOOOOOOD morning!  Time to wake up!" and then proceeded to sing them a round of "Rise and Shine and Give God the Glory, Glory."  It was serious deja vu to my time as student ministry camp chaperone.  (Why yes, in fact, the teenagers DID love me!  How did you guess?!)

When Audrey and Luke heard me they didn't even roll over and groan.  In fact, they bolted upright in bed and squealed with delight.  Now before you think my kids are just super morning freaks like their mama, let me explain.  They were ecstatic because this was the first time they'd heard my full, regular voice in over three weeks.  After the flu, I got a terrible bout of bronchitis and laryngitis and it stripped me of my voice.  I hadn't been able to speak to them in my full, regular voice for twenty-three days.  TWENTY-THREE DAYS. Let that sink in for a moment.

Parenting.  

Luke.  

With little to no voice.

For three weeks.  

They missed hearing me so badly.  I missed talking to them.  Ours is a house of words,  y'all. We may miss the mark on a lot of things, but we communicate the heck out of stuff with our kids.  We always have.  I remember the strange looks I would get when someone would pass me in the store and I would be talking to six month old Audrey like she was a forty year old friend.

So here I was, limited to nonverbal gestures and whispers for the first two weeks (which the doctor cautioned against doing because it actually strains the vocal chords more.)  I would write or type things out with David and Audrey, but obviously that didn't work with Luke. Clapping, snapping, and "psssttt" become commonplace attention grabbers the kids knew to listen for.  The last week brought about a deep, broken hoarseness that worked a lot better, but still wasn't me. What began as an annoying inconvenience turned frustrating and disheartening rather quickly.

Most days we managed.  I'd try to keep quiet and nod or signal "okay" when I could.  Other days, like the one when I lost sight of Luke in a store and started calling him as loud as I could with no sound coming out, were terrifying.  I found him about 60 seconds later, looking down and playing "don't step on the crack," blissfully unaware that he'd even wandered away.  He got a huge hug and the whisper-lecture of his life.  

When you're as quiet as I've had to be, you have an awful lot of time to think.  God has definitely taught me some lessons about my words and the importance of them these last few weeks.  I spent time reading scripture about the tongue and how hard it is to tame.  That very same day I also used what little voice energy I had to pass on a not-very-flattering comment about someone when I was chatting with a friend.  The moment I whispered it to her I thought "SERIOUSLY, Heather?  You have such limited vocal strength and you choose to spend it on that?!"  Mercy.  I certainly can't claim that the lessons God was teaching me always sank in right away.  

But over time, I DID actually absorb some things. Wonder of wonders.  I noticed that I nagged a lot less because I didn't want to waste my breath.  I didn't tell Luke to hurry as often as I usually do.  I would tell the kids to do something once and then actually give them a chance to comply without repeating myself. (Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn't.)  I tried to think about my answers to their questions carefully so I could give them concise, easy-to-understand responses.  I had them take turns praying on the way to school instead of me always doing it and asked Audrey to read the Bible stories at night when David was out of town, which was good for them.  I tried to be thoughtful and intentional in my questions about their days at school.  When I forced a whisper, I tried to use words of encouragement instead of criticism.  I always made strength to eek out "I love you", but found that "clean up your mess" sometimes wasn't worth it.  (Although I could usually manage to clap and point for that one.)

These last few weeks haven't been easy, but they've taught me a great deal.  I need to make my words count.  I need to listen more.  It took me losing my voice to understand the power it holds.  And as a parent it holds a tremendous amount.  I hope that lesson, along with my voice, sticks around for awhile.  

Misaligned Priorities

In an effort to avoid becoming overcommitted and over-scheduled,  I've had to learn to say "no" quite often.  I've become fairly decent at it over the last few years.  (Though admittedly I'm less proficient in the area of not caring who cares, but I'm getting better.)  I guard our family's calendar pretty fiercely and make sure we have plenty of down time and time for each other.  There is a fine line between living life to the fullest and living a too-full life, and it's one that I attempt to walk very carefully.  (Quick, somebody hand letter that onto a pretty floral background.)

However... 

Even when you make the choices that are only in line with your "best yes" and learn to say no to all of the other junk, there are times in life that are going to be just plain crazy (hello adulthood.)  A few months back I had a lot of balls in the air.  The Timber Trek was in full swing, I was planning my in-laws' 60th birthday party, room mom responsibilities were coming at me from both schools, and dear ones near me were requiring serious emotional support.  On top of that, the house stuff just seemed to keep piling up.  ("HOW do you people wear so many clothes and WHY do you need to eat ALL THE TIME?!")  I was overwhelmed and sinking fast.  

It came to a head one afternoon Audrey and Luke were playing and he did something he shouldn't have.  I called him into the kitchen and laid into him louder and more harshly than was necessary.  I don't even remember what he did, but I know my reaction didn't fit the crime.   His eyes welled with tears and I immediately thought, "I am failing.  I am failing miserably at this."  I calmed down and doled out time-outs for both of us.  As I tried to figure out what to do next, a realization came to me:  If I mess this up, nothing else matters.  If I succeed at everything else I'm responsible for but drop the ball with my family, we all lose.  

Ouch.

I read an article a few weeks ago that railed against the "constant sexist message women are sent: your 'job' will never be as important as your role as a mother — and if you try to do both you will always be failing."    

My blood boiled as I read the lies on the screen in front of me again.  Newsflash:  Your job WON'T ever be as important as your role as a mother.  Neither will any other parent's...male or female, Small Business Owner or POTUS.  Aside from your relationship with Christ, familial relationships are everything and should be treated accordingly.  

Let me be clear:  This is not about stay at home moms vs. working moms.  As was evident to me that afternoon (and a hundred others before it), it's possible for SAHMs to miss the boat. Just because we're there doesn't mean we're truly present and getting it right...oh lawd, it does not mean that.   And I'm also not talking about perfection nor the need to be 100% accessible to your family 100% of the time.  Balls will be dropped.  Family members are going to get short-changed during busy seasons.  Kids need to know your entire universe doesn't revolve around them.  We have to step up for each other and share the load.  But if it's too much for too long, something is broken.  

I wrote in this post two years ago, "Perfect balance doesn't exist, so the scale should always tip to the side that has your heart."  That afternoon I realized I was way off balance.  It wasn't a self-imposed guilt trip that I lamented over.  Instead it was actually a quiet, gentle reminder that my priorities had gotten misaligned.  Instead of letting it wash over me in a wave of discouragement, I took it as clarifying, freeing truth.  If I will run my next steps through the filter of correctly aligned priorities, what I need to do becomes crystal clear.  At that very moment, it was about asking my four year old for forgiveness and grace.  

The busyness remained constant over the next few weeks, but God shifted my attitude. Another message came to mind that I clung to:  if my kids see me serving others with a bad attitude and constantly doing so at their expense, what good is that example?  They need to know they matter and I need to remember to let go of what doesn't and hold on tight to who does.

Some of It Gets EasiER

Several years back I exhaustedly vented some parenting frustration on Facebook by posting a status that read "If I can just hold on until they're both in school, I'll get a few hours off"...or something to that effect.  I don't remember the exact circumstances that drove me to look for sympathy on the internets, but I imagine it was desperate.  It probably involved a lot of nursing my then-infant son, attempting to reason with my then-dramatic toddler about going potty, a traveling husband, and very little sleep. 

The comments some people posted left me in tears.  Yes, seriously.  Several older mom friends (I'm talking women that had grown children) jumped on and wrote things like "Oh!  We're supposed to get a day off?! I had no idea!" and  "Yeah, I'm still waiting.  Good luck with that!" and similarly snide comments.  I don't know why it cut me so deep (see previous statement about nursing and exhaustion), but it did.  I was drowning in raising littles and instead of throwing me a lifeline, several women that I trusted to help or at the very least empathize decided to point and laugh.  I quickly deleted the post in an effort to prevent others from jumping on the bandwagon. 

It was my fault, really.  I had turned to the world wide web to seek validation and encouragement instead of praying, talking to my husband, or picking up the phone to call a close friend - all things that most certainly would've had a better outcome.  I'd gotten burned, but it wasn't completely without purpose.  It seared a reminder in my brain to always encourage mothers coming behind me.  (And not that kind of "encouragement" that is often offered by whispering "OH.  Enjoy every minute.  It goes so fast."  Really? EVERY moment? 'Cause I got pooped on this morning.  Should I have savored that?!)

If you've read my blog for any length of time, you know I've always hated that and the "just wait"-type comments.  You know the ones:  "Oh you think it's hard now?!  Just wait until he/she can walk/does sports/drive or turns age 1/6/16."  Those are not helpful and they make you sound like a jerk, so stop it.  

Here's a little secret I'm learning:  This parenting thing?  It never gets easy.  It never lets up.  It never stops.  BUT, parts of it do get a little easiER.  The physical demands lessen and the sleep returns and, one day, you will have five whole minutes to complete a thought or a sentence.  I'm not going to pretend like bon-bons (what are those, anyway?!) and soaps are right around the corner, because keeping up with two kids' school schedules on top of volunteering at both places is no joke (careful there, Heather, you're teetering on the edge of "just wait"...)  BUT every once in a while I can drink an entire cup of coffee before it gets cold.  Of course now I'm navigating the choppy waters of first grade friendships and answering hard faith questions, but at least I can do it with hot coffee in my system.  

So hang in there, young Mama.  I know you're tired and covered in spit-up and can't remember the last time you had a minute to yourself.  I know that it feels like if you have to wipe one more hiney or nose or pile of pbj crumbs off the counter you're going to lose your ever-lovin' mind, but there is coming a day when you will have more time for yourself.  A place where you can see daylight breaking over the top of the trench you've been in for so many years.  Until then, hang on for dear life and call a sitter every once in awhile.  Sooner than you think you'll be able to send your kids out in the backyard for fifteen whole minutes by themselves.  (Just remember:  Sibling fights build relational skills.  Let 'em duke it out.)

And to the older moms that commented on my post that day, if you have grown children and have not managed to take some breaks and time off by now, that is totally and completely on you.  No wonder you're cranky.  Chill out and go get a pedicure and a cup of coffee...and buy one for that young mama in the minivan behind you while you're at it.  

Six Months

Yesterday was Audrey's six month birthday. If only someone would've told me how fast it goes by! ;) Sarcasm aside, it really is hard to believe how much she has grown and changed over the past six months. As I watched her sitting up in the floor grabbing toys from her Daddy, it was hard to believe how far we've come. Every day has been an adventure. Some good, some bad, but hardly a one of them dull.

Overall, I'd say things have been getting easier as time goes on. One of the biggest differences is that I find that I'm worrying less about her physical health (maybe because her fat rolls
speak for themselves). However, I am still just as conscious as ever about her overall well being. I drift off to sleep recounting the day's events and wondering if I did the best I could. Did I pray "with" her and for her? What did I do with her today that was educational? What did I do with her today that was fun and silly? Did I treat her with kindness? Did I treat myself and others with kindness in front of her? Did she see me scowling about my to-do list or did she notice me smiling as I went about the day's chores? Did I show love and respect to her Daddy? Was I patient? More often than not, I fail in some way or another. But, more often than not, I'm learning to focus on what I did do right and pray that God's grace will fill in the gaps where I fall short.

Most of the other lessons I've learned so far I've already written about in previous posts (Having momfidence in yourself, avoiding comparison parenting, and other random stuff) but there were a couple that I don't think I've shared yet that I wanted to pass along:

1. Let your husband do it his way. This really hasn't been as hard for me as I thought it would be. Maybe it's because by the end of the day, I don't have the energy to interfere. Perhaps because I've had a taste of going it alone during his business trips, I'm just so grateful for the help I don't want to discourage it! Whatever the reason, I've learned to step aside and let David handle Audrey without me hovering and instructing. It doesn't matter if I think I know a more efficient or productive way. That's not nearly as important as letting him get to know her and sharpening his skills as a Dad. As long as it's not a safety or health issue, I try to butt out. Besides, it teaches Audrey to experience things differently and be flexible.

2. Do what's best for your core family. This means conquering the fear of making others angry or disappointed. They'll get over it...or not. Sometimes they'll understand, sometimes they won't. Either way, we have a Little One to look after now. Sure, there are times when schedules need to be put aside and we stretch Audrey to her limits to accommodate others. But there are also times when we know what she can handle or certain things are important to us and we put our foot (feet?) down.

3. Stretch yourself...and the baby! I think that having a schedule and sticking to it is really important for Audrey. It gives her a solid routine and something to depend on, which I think she finds comforting and thrives under. However, I've discovered it's sometimes equally important to throw the routine and rules out the window for the sake of new experiences. In the past six months we've done this multiple times: Doing a 5K, attending a new Bible Study at a different church where I don't know every nursery worker, and taking a road trip to Savannah. Each has turned out better than expected, and we've made memories, gained confidence, and exposed AJ to exciting new things in the process.

I can only imagine how much more we will learn over the next few months and years. My prayer is that my mind and heart will remain open and teachable, and in the process, that God will mold me into a better person and mother.

Happy Birthday, AJ. We love you!

Contradictions of Parenthood

Parenthood has brought about many surprises, revelations, and lessons (yes, even our few short months of it). Among them, I've discovered a few contradictions:

1. You gain the ability to multi-tasking like never before, but can also switch that to a laser focused one-track mind. I can successfully nurse Audrey while simultaneously pumping, eating lunch, and checking email. On the other hand, there are moments when I'm holding her and looking into her eyes and the world just stops. Nothing else exists, let alone matters.

2. You either look like death warmed over or you're all decked out. Sometimes I get dolled up and wear heels to the grocery store just to make sure I remember how to walk in them. Other times (read: most of the time), I'm "that woman" who hasn't showered, isn't wearing a stitch of make-up, and is sporting sweatpants from high school that Goodwill would refuse to accept. You know, the woman you try not to make eye contact with because you're embarrassed for her. So, if you see me looking done up at Wal-Mart, don't be impressed. It's probably the only time all week I've simultaneously had my hair fixed, make-up on, and am wearing cute shoes. If I'm in the sweatpants, do us both a favor and just act like you didn't see me.

3. Your level of patience exponentially increases and then nose dives back to zilch depending on the circumstance. I can review colors a thousand times and read books over and over or walk AJ fifty laps around the downstairs when she's crying. I have gotten up every night for months on end and, though I'm tired of it, I'm patient about it. However, when it comes to dealing with other people and situations, I'm less tolerant than I used to be (which really wasn't all that much to begin with.) Red lights - which usually cause her to start crying - drive me nuts and getting stopped by a train can result in breaking out in a sweat. I don't think anyone understands being in a hurry more than a nursing mother. We have carefully timed our outings to avoid meltdowns (hers, not mine) and leaks (mine, not hers) and rarely have a minute to spare. I am a slave to the clock and I expect things and people to be on time moreso than I ever have before. So please...count your items carefully before you get in the express lane in front of me. It would really throw me off schedule to be arrested for indecent exposure at Publix.

4. You grow closer in some relationships and distanced in others. If you have a child under a year old, you're on my speed dial these days. If you don't, chances are I owe you a phone call. Sorry 'bout that.

5. You find yourself wishing time would speed up and then moments later, praying it would slow down. There are moments during my day when I feel like I'm going to be nursing around the clock and changing diapers for the rest of my life. I selfishly wish we could move on to solids, have her potty trained, and sleep through the night. Then suddenly, after a 3am feeding when the house is still and quiet, I'll snuggle her in my arms and realize how she fits differently than she used to. How much heavier she is now than she was a few months ago. How her legs stretch out much longer and her head takes up more space on my shoulder. And I realize that every milestone she reaches means she needs me less...and I ask God to keep her tiny just a little while longer.

Growth Spurts and Teething

I think I mentioned something about these things before, but I've decided they need an entire post to themselves. It just might save me from clocking somebody.

If I hear "Oh, she has started teething" or "She must be going through a growth spurt" one more time, I think I'm going to scream. EVERYTHING that has been slightly off about this child has been explained away by one of those two diagnoses, usually by someone who has never spent more than five minutes with our daughter.

Sure, both are valid explanations some of the time. Of course she is growing like crazy...she is a baby, after all. It's what they do. As far as the teething thing, I know they can start exhibiting symptoms months before a tooth appears, so yeah, she could be feeling the effects now. But neither one can be the case all the time! My sister-in-law explained that my niece's growth spurts are nowhere around when the books say they should be. Is she an early developer? Or is she late? Was her gestational period off? People can drive you crazy worrying about those dadgum growth spurts.

So when does it end?! I can just see it: Audrey will be playing soccer one day and get kicked in the shin. Black and blue, she'll come to me crying and I'll say "It's okay! Just walk it off. It's only a growth spurt." She'll walk in the door from a particularly bad day in high school and I'll say, "Oh honey. Don't worry about it. You're just teething." Bad grade on a math test? Growth spurt. Fight with a friend? Teething. Got a speeding ticket? Growth spurt AND teething.

I must admit, I've often used both as excuses for her odd behavior. But I'm allowed - I'm the mommy. I spend every minute of every day with her, so I'm more likely to actually know when it's a valid answer. Sometimes, though, she may wake up at night because she is cold. Or has her arm stuck outside the crib. If she eats more frequently one day, I don't automatically assume it's because she is in a growth spurt. There are some days that I am more hungry than others and I'm pretty sure I'm done growing (vertically, at least.) And she puts her hand in her mouth for everything. She has done it since she was in the womb - she came out with suck marks on her fingers, for pete's sake. It does not necessarily mean she is teething or hungry. She just loves to suck on her hand! It's comforting to her!

So, not to offend you if you've offered up these explanations to us before. We're just super tired of hearing them. Of course, as I said, sometimes they're right on the money. Other times they're way off. Who knows. It's become such a joke in our house that David and I can hardly look at each other when we hear someone say it. We're so immature. Or maybe we're just teething.

"Momfidence"

About two months ago, I posted a blog about advice. This post is similar, but deals with the hundreds of bits of "expert" recommendations you receive from the dozens of "experts" you encounter.

Before you pull out of the hospital parking lot with your newborn, you will likely have met with at least 2 doctors (yours and the baby's), 6 nurses (lots of shifts), a lactation specialist, and a partridge in a pear tree (or maybe that's just a side effect of the drugs they give you.) Every one of them has words of wisdom to pass along. And rightly so, I guess. I mean, they are trained professionals.

Then you get home. You start pouring over the books you've already been pouring over for months. I think around month six of my pregnancy I quit reading pregnancy books and started reading infant care books. Baby Wise, Healthy Sleep Habits Happy Child, The Baby Whisperer, What to Expect the First Year, Dr. Denmark Said It, The Girlfriend's Guide to the First Year, and The Ultimate Book of Breastfeeding Answers. Plus all the pamphlets and booklets we received from the classes we took, the pediatrician's offices we toured, and the hospital.

Then you have the first appointment at the pediatrician's office. So you get more advice from a nurse and a doctor and the check-in lady and the check-out lady (though I don't think the last two really fall in the expert category.)

All that listening and studying should equate to at least a bachelor's degree in caring for your infant. Watch a few episodes of "A Baby Story" and "Bringing Home Baby" and you might be at least several courses into your master's program.

Yet here you are with this little bitty tiny human. And you're clueless. "You'll learn their cries," they say. "She'll let you know what she needs," they promise. Lies. Every stinkin' cry that baby made for the first 8 weeks sounded exactly the same. I did quickly come to learn what she needed most of the time, but that's only because I got her on a schedule. So, technically, the clock told me what she needed. Plus, she is a really good yawner.

The very best advice I heard recently was from my Bible study instructor (a "non-expert" who has raised four daughters). She said that what new moms really need is 24 hours alone with their newborn baby on a desert island. Then they would realize they A) know their baby better than anyone else and B) they have all the tools and skills they need to care for him or her.

I couldn't agree more. The thing I have come to realize is that Mama knows best. And slowly but surely, I'm gaining "momfidence" in myself. (I coined that term from Woman’s Day magazine, by the way. I’m so not that clever.)

When AJ was first born, the doctor told us to keep her out of public places for two weeks and we chose to wait until almost three. Similarly, he said no public nurseries until eight weeks, and we still haven't crossed that bridge yet (maybe church nursery this Sunday?!) You may recall from a previous post that we allow her sleep on her stomach at night, which of course is a HUGE no-no. Several of the books I read said not to bother trying to get her on a nap schedule before three months, but she's been on roughly the same one since she was six weeks old. Most of the books also said not to dare let her "cry it out" at night before she was older. We went the earlier route and now 95% of the time she goes down for naps and bedtime without a peep.

All of these things went against the experts' opinions and yet she's doing fine. I dare say our little Chunk is even thriving. Of course, I'm not saying any of this is right for your baby, but then again, you probably already know whether or not it is. Why? Because Mama knows best.

So yeah, read the books. Take the courses. Ask your doctors questions and listen to their advice. And then go home and make up your own dang mind. Have some "Momfidence" in yourself. You can do it!