The Big Picture

Jones's first week home -- the most difficult week of my life to date. I called my high school friend, whose baby was a bit older, and cried on the phone: "This is worse than labor! I don't know what I'm supposed to do! I'm paralyzed with fear over every decision!" In my newly-post-partum mind, it couldn't get any worse: every muscle in my body was sore, as if I'd just finished a marathon with absolutely no preparation; there were stitches holding together a tear in an extremely delicate place (and it HURT, let me tell you); baby and I were trying to figure out this breastfeeding thing, which was waaaay more difficult than I'd assumed; I was suffering from a bout of mastitis (think infection with flu-like symptoms); and I was sleep-deprived. Not to mention the crying baby -- ohhh, the crying baby! The human being who would depend upon me for life and everything else -- and the very present lack of a hospital nursery. Fear overtook me. I looked down the long, stretching road of parenthood and thought, "Why does anyone ever have more than one?"

Those problems have been replaced by a new set, which is the never-ending plight of motherhood. If it's not teething, it's sleep habits. If it's not sleep habits, its separation anxiety. If it's not separation anxiety, it's potty-training. If it's not potty-training, it's puberty. And so on, and so forth. I read books on motherhood pre-Jones, and thought to myself that remembering "The Big Picture" whilst changing diapers or doing dishes didn't seem that difficult. I'd write it on a sticky note and post it by the sink. There I would see it, and -- viola! -- no problems. I've come to find that it simply is not that simple. In fact, the times when I walk in fear and frustration far outweigh the brief interludes my life has with "The Big Picture."

"The Big Picture" -- that no book will equip me for marriage and motherhood better than the Bible; that no parenting philosophy comes free from fear or frustration -- each has it's own personalized set, and if you switch philosophies, you merely trade one set of issues for another; that babyhood is perhaps the briefest and most quickly traveled-through period of a child's life (this includes sleeplessness, frequent feedings, lack of mobility, and (once mobile) mobility); that Jesus Christ died to redeem my soul from death; that the truth of the Gospel is the most important thing I could teach my child; that being united as husband and wife in desires for parenting is extremely important; that fear belongs in my life only as it relates to fearing the LORD; that I cannot be a perfect parent; that my life is not meant to be comfortable and free from suffering; that suffering makes me more like Jesus; that it is good for me to give of myself and to serve sacrificially; that children are always a blessing from God -- ALWAYS; that the LORD is more gracious and merciful than I could ever dream up, and He is not angry with my shortcomings as I imagine He is.

Getting glimpses into this picture makes me eager for the day when I will no longer have to fight myself to remember the important stuff.

"Oh! that day when freed from sinning, I shall see Thy lovely face. Clothed then in bloodwashed linen, how I'll sing Thy sovereign grace. Come, my Lord, no longer tarry! Take my ransomed soul away! Send Thine angels now to carry me to realms of endless day."

Babywise, Part II

When you have a baby, everyone you meet has an opinion, whether it's natural birth, epidural, finding out the sex of the baby, breastfeeding, scheduling, baby-wearing, the family bed, sleeping through the night, starting solids, immunizations, etc, etc, etc. It's so helpful to know that others have been there and survived -- but my personality lends toward people-pleasing, which is difficult with so many opinions around.

During Jones first Sunday at church, Jones squirmed in his car seat next to me in the pew, and though he was not fussing, I wanted to pick him up. I was filled with instant fear and dread -- what would the other mom's think? For some reason, I had this impression in my mind that if I was going to do Babywise, I needed to toughen up and not pick up my child as often as I'd like. I know that this is not a premise of the book or parenting style, but from my interactions, I was was worried that some women would think I was spoiling Jones if I held him the whole service. I started looking around at the other moms, wanting to see if they were holding their children. Is it really okay?

Today, I think, "How silly." In my head, I know that no one cares if I hold Jones or not. But my heart does it's own thing. In my head, I know that the principles of Babywise don't intend to make me feel guilty and paralyzed in my decision-making (in fact, I remember a statement in the book that said I was the parent, and I could decide). But my heart did not feel liberated by these teachings -- it felt bogged down, frightened, and guilty.

(And just so I'm clear, I was in contact with some mommies who were on the Attachment Parenting side of the fence, and I felt the same amount of fear and guilt with my lack of desire for "the family bed" and nursing upwards of 12 times per day.)

I think the issue lies less with theories and philosophies, and more with the hearts behind them. My heart has issues with guilt, fear, and people-pleasing. (Anyone else??) ;) ..And I needed to just let go of all these books and opinions and do what I felt I needed to do. I'm still not sure what would take place if the LORD blessed us with subsequent babies, but I feel I'm starting to lean more toward the "other side." If Jones whines, I want to pick him up. If he's fussy, I don't mind carrying him around the house in a sling. If he's hungry, I'll feed him. If he's sleepy, he can sleep. If he's starts crying in his crib, I want to be right there to pick him up. If I rock him to sleep, so what? For some reason, I felt guilty in Jones's early days for wanting to nurture him in these specific ways. Now that I've thrown out the people-pleasing, I feel a freedom I cannot describe -- I no longer feel guilty for doing the things I've wanted to do all along. Relief! The only thing Bryan and I have discussed with this is that we do not want to be slaves to our child or let him rule our lives in any way. We believe striking a balance will be difficult, no matter what parenting style we choose.

"Am I now trying to win the approval of men, or of God? Or am I trying to please men? If I were still trying to please men, I would not be a servant of Christ." Galatians 1:10

"It is for freedom that Christ has set us free. Stand firm, then, and do not let yourselves be burdened again by a yoke of slavery." Galatians 5:1

NOTE: If you are a Babywise family, please don't take offense to these posts. I feel in general that parenting styles have more to do with parent personality than with right/wrong, etc. If your personality lends toward that book, go do it, and do it well! I'm just realizing (FINALLY) that mine doesn't -- and that's okay. :)

Current "Babywise" Thoughts

When I was pregnant, I heard tons from other people about Babywise -- for and against. I read the book and thought, "This sounds like a breeze!" I was eager to meet my baby, who would eat every three hours and sleep one-and-a-half hour naps all day. (And would, of course, be sleeping through the night by eight weeks.)

Everything was on schedule (he even slept through the night at five weeks!) until Jones was three months old. He started teething, and following the Babywise suggestions became almost impossible. I found myself constantly in tears, fearful that I would "ruin him" by taking him off of the schedule, frustrated and angry that he wasn't napping like the book said he should, tired by all his cries (because he wasn't "supposed" to be crying), not knowing what he needed and feeling trapped about feeding him when I wasn't even sure if he was hungry. I tried to make him drop feedings, because the book said he should be eating X times per day, and he was eating more. My milk supply dropped, and let's just say that at that point, we were both very, very unhappy. Sure, he slept through the night before he was two months, but now he had a mama who was silently brooding most of the time.

All in all, I decided that no parenting method was worth my sanity and my desire to love and parent my child. We didn't sit down and say we were going to do things differently, but I just started telling myself that it didn't matter -- it was just a nap/feeding/cry -- and they were not going to make or break his life. I realized that the main issue I was battling was the thought that his spiritual training started right now, so if I didn't have my act together at every moment of every day, he would be disobedient and whiny when he was 5, rebellious as a teenager, and walking away from the Church when he was in his twenties. Let's talk about weight. I felt an unholy amount of weight on my shoulders -- why did it take me so long to realize that it was just a freaking nap?

There is some truth to the thought that, as parents, we must be mindful of the small things in our children's lives, for they will some day turn into the issues they will struggle with. However, it is not my job to make sure my child is sinless and his behavior is perfect -- is this what God requires of us? The truly important thing is that my child observe and understand how I react to sin -- my own and others -- and I pray that, in that, I would have a repentant and humble heart.

So these are my thoughts of late. I'm not so sure what I think anymore. I like the Eat/Awake/Sleep routine idea of Babywise (also from "The Baby Whisperer"), and I like the idea of sleeping through the night -- but I think I must also not allow the book's view of Attachment Parenting to make me think that people who do not do Babywise let their kids run all over them, eating/playing/sleeping whenever the heck they want to. This is just silly.

(I'm all over the place with this one, eh?)

Anyway, I welcome thoughts/opinions/frustrations. And just know that I'm not finished thinking through this yet.

The First-fruits

I'm tired -- I feel like I need to rest, but other things keep calling for my time and attention. The baby isn't napping well today. There are two loads of laundry that need to be folded (and since one load has sat in a basket for a few days, there's probably ironing to do, as well). There are dishes that need to be put away and dishes that need to be washed. There is a pile of paperwork on the table that needs to be filed. There is dust on every surface in the house. The kitchen floor is a bit sticky and could use a mopping. There are bills to be paid. The hamburger for tonight's tacos needs to be browned. There is an endless amount of organizing, de-junking, and ordering that needs to be done.

Is this the never-ending plight of mothers and housewives? You can't leave your stress at work because you are 'at work' 24/7. I keep wondering if I'll ever feel on top of things. Just when the house is finally beginning to look tidy, the baby begins to nap well, my eyes start to lose their sleepy look, something unexpected drops into my world and it all falls apart. Stress, stress, stress.

But there is something else that needs to be done, as well: I need to sit with my Savior. He has redeemed my life, it belongs to Him, so why is it that all these other things get more of my time and my thoughts? It is so hard for me to rest! I know the necessity of being with Jesus, I understand the implications of living outside of this rest, yet I don't fully believe it for some reason -- if I did, I wouldn't spend all my energies trying to control and subdue my little section of the universe. I would spend some, that's for certain, because this is the lot I've been portioned by God. But He would always get the first-fruits. Right now, I'm certain He only gets the scraps, if He gets anything at all.

This is no way to treat the One to whom I owe my life. How do I rest my eyes on the eternal world when the physical one is screaming for my attention?

Living with Fear, Part I

Hello. My name is Jamie, and I am addicted to fear.

Reading this post yesterday jump-started my thinking, and after having an anxiety-ridden night, I realized that unless I wanted to have a panic attack someday, I needed to do something about this problem. (And I don't think its coincidental that the night after reading this post was filled with fear.) I've prayed about it (but more a 'take it away' kind of prayer, which usually is not God's way of dealing with issues), I've asked my husband to pray about it, I've journaled about it, I've cried about it, I've looked for books to read about it -- but something about that post made me realize that all those were not enough. I'm not quite certain how to proceed, but I figured that putting it 'out there,' in a sense, would be a good way to start.

This is the verdict: Light has come into the world, but men loved darkness instead of light because their deeds were evil. Everyone who does evil hates the light, and will not come into the light for fear that his deeds will be exposed. But whoever lives by the truth comes into the light, so that it may be seen plainly that what he has dome has been done through God.
John 3:19-21

My fear manifests itself in various ways, but there are certain things that trigger it. At the risk of sounding childish, my two main fears are darkness and throwing up -- they usually coincide with one another. It sounds really silly, but if I wake up on the middle of the night, my thought process goes something like this:

I'm awake. *yawn* (pause.) I'm awake!! Why am I awake? Did my body wake me up? Did my body wake me up because I'm sick? I'm sick!! *cue stomach pains from anxiety* And my stomach even hurts. Oh no, I'm going to throw up. I'm sick, I'm sick, I'm sick. I hate being sick. How will this affect tomorrow? I'm not sleeping. I'm going to be tired. Am I going to be sick all day tomorrow? How will I take care of Jones? *cue nausea from anxiety* Oh no. I really am sick.

This is usually followed by a scrap of rational thinking that says, "You're not sick, you're just worried. You're just afraid." Then I go on telling myself that I'm not sick -- not sick, not sick, not sick. And then I pray.

A couple of times during my first trimester, I woke up this way in the middle of the night and stayed up till the sun rose, and -- viola! -- my stomach ache ceased. I then realized that this was not a silly fear, it was rooted in my heart and took control of me. It was not something I could shake. I began to notice other areas of my life affected by fear -- then others. Then others -- and still, more, others. The epidemic was widespread. It popped up, unwelcome, throughout my pregnancy, but has largely gone forgotten till I read the aforementioned post. I was reminded that this was a serious issue, with which I needed to become serious. This was sin.

So there you have it. It's in the light. Since I know this is not an issue that will be dealt with once and promptly removed from my life, I'm created a new tag for it. I sense that I'll be writing about this journey for quite a while. Please join me -- it promises to be eventful. :)