rejoice a little louder, feast a little slower, love a little stronger

Dear friends, count your blessings, savor the moment, hug a little tighter, rejoice a little louder, feast a little slower, pray a little deeper, love a little stronger. Enjoy your holiday.

love,
Adriel xx

adriel booker | the mommyhood memos | 2011
do not reproduce without written permission

losing a baby

I’ve read that one in four women have experienced a miscarriage. I’ve also read that 75% of women have had what’s called a “chemical pregnancy” – one that’s over almost before it starts. (Most women simply assume they had a late period.)

Recently this really hit home.

my teeny tiny nine week bump. let's be honest... it's definitely more bloating than baby. 

Within the last couple of months I’ve had two good friends experience a miscarriage and a stillbirth. One was seven weeks along, the other was twenty-one weeks along… far enough to feel the baby kicking and have the gender identified.

Both of these losses hit me hard.

I’ve not experienced a miscarriage for myself, and I pray to God I never will, but since having a child of my own I feel like I can begin to imagine (in a greater, more accurate way) the trauma and loss that losing a baby leaves you with.

With my first pregnancy (Levi) I remember being so fearful every time I went to the bathroom for the first few days… always hoping and praying that there would be no blood, no sign of life cut short. For me, the one thing that helped me to overcome that fear was my faith and belief in God.

One day—convinced that being fearful wasn’t doing my unborn baby or me any good—I prayed to God and told him that I would entrust my little baby’s life to his care. Even though my husband and I prayed a similar prayer when we first got those two positive stripes, I needed to go back to God alone and dig further within my own heart to find an even deeper sincerity. I asked for help so that I could cease being fearful, and I “handed over” my pregnancy and that precious little vulnerable life to God.

That day a burden lifted and I didn’t struggle with fear surrounding the pregnancy again.

My second pregnancy has been harder. Though not typically a fearful person, I’ve again struggled with a fear of losing this new baby. I think there are a few reasons for it – the first being that I’ve just stood by two dear friends as they’ve endured the heartache of losing unborn babies, both situations being incredibly painful.

I think another reason is that the loss of my second friend’s baby was so unexpected. She had well and truly entered what most would consider the “safe zone”. She was feeling him kick every day. She had her growing, beautiful second trimester belly. And—after her 21-week-old baby was delivered stillborn—she and her husband were able to hold that tiny, perfectly formed body while they named him and then let him go.

And finally—perhaps the most confronting reason—is now that I have a child of my own, I have such an increased awareness of what I have to lose. The cost of loss seems so much more real, and so far beyond anything I ever want endure paying.

The stakes are incredibly high.

I have no doubt that losing a baby would be traumatic and heartbreaking and absolutely awful for any mother, and I would never want to belittle anyone’s experience. But for a mother who’s already had the experience of knowing how much life changes, how much your heart expands, how much love is at stake… well that’s an awareness that must bring things to a whole new level.

I realize that every woman deals with this kind of loss differently, and by no means am I an expert or would I put myself forward with any depth of personal revelation other than that which any mother shares – the weight of knowing how much love for a child one’s heart can hold and the reality of life moving to another dimension after children have invaded your world.

In saying all that, this pregnancy has been much harder for me mentally and emotionally so far.

Instead of holding my breath for the first several days like with my first pregnancy, I was holding my breath for the first several weeks… praying, hoping, hanging on, treading lightly with more fear than the first and more dread each time I visited the ladies room. There was a very real battle raging in my head between what I knew to be true and yet the possibility of what “could be”.

I still have my faith in God. I still trust Him with this little life. And that has helped me immensely… In fact, it’s been my lifeline. But this time around it’s been a bigger effort for me to trust, relax, and believe that it’s all going to be okay.

Thankfully, I’m now at the place where I’m resting with my heart and mind at peace, knowing that my little one is in good hands. S/he’s healthy, growing, developing just as s/he should.

And with the awareness that life will always be bigger than us and that there will always be circumstances beyond our control, I’m trying to be even more deliberate to be thankful for every single day that this precious baby is ours.

Dear friends, this is such a sensitive topic, and I hesitated for weeks writing about it since I’ve not experienced losing a baby for myself. But since it is something every pregnant woman is faced with to one degree or another, I decided to write about some of my process. Did you struggle with fear during pregnancy? And if you feel up to “going there” may I ask about how the reality of losing a baby has effected you, your pregnancies, or your outlook on life?

grateful to be overcoming fear one day at a time,

adriel booker | the mommyhood memos | 2011 
do not reproduce without written permission

may your whole world be filled

"Jesus said, 'I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.'" (John 8:12)

Dear friends, may your Christmas be filled with light, life, and love... and all things good as you celebrate friends and family, the birth of Jesus, and the hope of a new year. May your holiday be filled with joy, generosity, feasting, kindness, peace, and so much more.

with love,

adriel booker | the mommyhood memos | 2010 
do not reproduce without written permission

dedicated to God

This weekend we had Levi’s baby dedication at church.

As parents, Ryan and I believe that children are a gift from God, and that becoming parents means that we are entrusted with the awesome responsibility and privilege of raising them to the best of our ability.

To us, having a baby dedication ceremony is merely a public confession of something that we do every day:

There is not a night that goes by that I don’t thank God for the beautiful gift of Levi’s life, and not a day that goes by that we don’t dedicate ourselves to the incredible task of raising him to be a young man who loves God and loves people according to our faith.

As Levi comes of age himself he will choose if he wants to follow God or not. That is his decision, not our own.

Our commitment to him in the meantime is that we do our best to demonstrate God’s heart of love, compassion, kindness, grace, acceptance, humility, wisdom, justice, and mercy so that his view of God will be as accurate as possible as it comes time for his faith to become his own.

{levi was busy preaching up a storm and waving to everyone during the entire thing.}

So as we stood up in front of the congregation along with my in-laws at Levi’s baby dedication, we publicly declared our intention to walk out our commitment to him in teaching him and training him in life and faith. We thanked God—once again—for the amazing gift of Levi’s life, and we dedicated our little family to the One we believe is the Giver of Life and All Things Good.

{and... now for the double-handed wave. also pictured, "nanny and bop" - ryan's parents.}

Dear friends, isn’t it an amazing privilege and responsibility to have children? What is one thing that you are dedicated to that helps you to parent your child well?

dedicated to raising my son well,

adriel booker | the mommyhood memos | 2010 
do not reproduce without written permission

the power of letting go

It was a Saturday a couple of weeks ago. Ryan was playing with Levi in our room on the bed and I was in Levi’s room next door putting laundry away. For just a moment Ryan stepped away from the bed to get something from the closet and Levi—of course—quickly followed after him, toppling off the bed and down to the ground causing a massive thud and quite a fright.

Ryan scooped up our little screaming child to console him as I muttered angrily under my breath about the fact that he knew better than to leave our extremely mobile (and fast) kid unattended.

But really, it all happened in a matter of seconds.

As quickly as my mama bear anger rose, my loving wife sympathy rose soon after. In all honesty I knew that I could have just as easily done the same thing. (And—no doubt—I’ve already had my fair share of parenting blunders in the last eight months.)

I went in to make sure everything was alright and also to tell Ryan that it was okay and I wasn’t angry, and found him apologizing to Levi and asking his forgiveness.

When I commented to Ryan that it was wonderful to see his humility with our child by asking his forgiveness even before Levi could understand, Ryan quickly responded with, “it’s probably more for me than for him.”

As parents we are bound to make mistakes – some out of ignorance and just not knowing any better, and others out of carelessness or selfishness or any other number of reasons. The important thing is not that we are “prefect parents” – we all know this will never happen! The important thing is that we are quick to admit our mistakes, humble ourselves before our kids, and ask for their forgiveness. (And it’s never too early to start.)

We all know that when someone asks for forgiveness it is much easier to not hold a grudge against them. Of course we all want our children to grow up with as little reason to hold grudges toward us as possible so that we can maintain strong, healthy relationships.

And that alone is a great reason to ask for forgiveness as we go.

But what we fail to remember is that much of the time asking for forgiveness is just as important for us as it is for the person we’re asking it of. (Because as humbling as it is, we all desire that feeling of being "right" by others.)

The reverse of that is also true: extending forgiveness to someone who has wronged us can be just as much for our own sake (or sometimes even more) than it is for the person we’re forgiving.

Because what if that person never offers an apology? Or what if they don’t see or agree that they’ve done something wrong?

Does that gives us license to forever hold a grudge?

Maybe… But I have learned that forgiveness is one of the single most important keys to having a healthy inner world. It’s impossible to grow and heal and be free within yourself when you hold unforgiveness and bitterness in your heart. (Unfortunately, even lessons we've already learned can be easily forgotten.)

I was reminded of this key as I took my shower this morning. There I was shaving my legs, singing "Old McDonald had a Farm" to entertain Levi as he played on the bathroom floor, and all of a sudden it occurred to me: there was a situation in my life where I had not yet forgiven someone who had hurt me. I had been waiting for an apology… and yet this morning I realized it might never come.


*Light bulb moment.*

I was left with two choices: grow bitter and resentful at the situation and the person, or forgive and let go of my negative feelings so that they wouldn’t fester and become worse.

Guess which one I chose?

I chose to forgive.

Another way of saying “forgive” is to say “let go”. I needed to let go of my attitude and let go of my expectations.

Does this mean I become a doormat? Does this mean that I will never feel any more pain in regards to the situation? Does this justify the offence? Does this mean that I move on and pretend that it never existed in the first place?

No it does not.

But it does release me from the negativity within. And if I don’t let go of that… no doubt it will fester making me hardened and bitter and resentful.

I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to become a cranky old woman.

And I can tell you from experience, it feels good to let go. There’s a power in forgiveness that’s difficult to express unless you’ve experienced it yourself.

So how about you?

Dear friends, is this a life-lesson that you need to learn... or re-learn? Is there something in your life that you need to let go of? Or someone you need to forgive? How about with your children? Are you teaching them what it means to be humble? No doubt we instruct them to apologize to a sibling or a friend when they’ve done something wrong… but do you ask forgiveness of your children when you’ve made a mistake that involves them or snapped and said something you shouldn’t have? Have you demonstrated to them that you don’t expect perfection, but you do expect that when mistakes are made there should be an honest and heartfelt apology? Do you need to ask for forgiveness or extend forgiveness today?

glad to have let go,

adriel booker | the mommyhood memos | 2010 
do not reproduce without written permission

would you rather raise happy kids or whole kids? {sacred parenting series, part 2}

“If we protect our children from all risk, challenge, and possible rejection, they likely will become developmentally stunted and will therefore remain immature. Out of love for our children, we must become strong enough spiritually to watch them hurt, to see them become disappointed, to hear their cries. Otherwise, we risk raising safe and compliant kids with an empty core. In this area our own immaturity and spiritual weakness can handicap our children.” –Gary L. Thomas (Sacred Parenting)

What a confronting statement. I don’t want to see my child hurt… ever.

I hesitate to even write about this subject because as such a new parent, I have not had to walk my child through any kind of deep pain or heartache or difficulty. I have no authority to write on that level.

And yet I realize that even through I’m at the beginning of this journey of parenthood—and I have lots of time to work some of this stuff out in my own heart and head—I know that it’s now that I must solidify my values and (with my husband) set the foundations we want to build our family on.

So this is why I’m going there… to that place where the confronting questions are asked.

Mama doesn’t want to see her baby cry.

Let me say it again: I don’t ever want to see my child hurt.

In fact, I even hate seeing and hearing my baby cry (which in my adult mind almost always translates to the indication of pain).

Of course I realize that as all babies do, Levi has lots of different types of cries: hunger, tiredness, boredom, frustration, etc. But hands-down the hardest type of cry to hear is the cry of discomfort or pain. Whether it be the pain of teething, immunizations, or a nasty bump on the head… my little mama’s heart gets a squeeze when my boy cries in pain.

As much as I hate the sound of crying, since my child is still just a baby, I expect him to cry... often. I understand that a baby who doesn’t cry would be a baby to be concerned about. A normal, healthy baby will cry several times a day – as a form of communication, to express physical and emotional needs, or just to let off steam. (And when he does I’ll be the first one to want and try to comfort him. He needs this and so do I.)

It's natural for parents to desire to intervene and stop pain in its tracks.

I understand that sometimes my baby will cry and there’s not much I can do about it other than do my best to soothe him… But what about when he’s a little older?

What about when he’s a toddler and he’s crying because a friend won’t share a toy? Or what about when he’s a preschooler and he cries when dropped off at school? Or what about when he’s twelve and he isn’t drafted to the sports team he hoped for? Or when he’s fifteen and the girl he likes chooses someone else to go to the school dance with?

What then?

As a parent, I can’t imagine anything more difficult than seeing my child in pain. And these examples are just “little” things… I don’t even want to contemplate pain on a larger scale right now. (I’m just not there yet and my little first-time-mama’s heart might explode.)

But would I take a toy off another toddler just to see my own stop crying? Or would I forgo dropping him off at school because it makes him cry? Or would I try and bully the coach to make him accept my son on the team? Or would I attempt to bribe and persuade the girl to choose my son instead?

Of course not.

Happiness doesn’t always equal fulfillment or wholeness.

I want my child to be happy, no doubt. But more than that, I want him to eventually find fulfillment in life on a much deeper level than happiness on its own can afford. Because after all, happiness is often fleeting – coming and going as fast as circumstances change. But fulfillment comes through growing into a whole person.

As an adult, I can look back at some of the most formative events in my life… and often they sprung out of a place of pain or difficulty or struggle. Those formative events have shaped me into the woman I am today, and though I am by no means perfect, I am not broken either. I am healed and I am whole... and a much better person because of it. (And for the record, I'm generally very happy too - by no means am I saying happiness and wholeness are mutually exclusive.)

We must think through our good intentions.

So if struggle and difficulty and pain can be beneficial... would I advocate trying to manufacture those things in order to “teach a lesson about life" to a child? Not a chance! The world will do that for them just fine. There will never be a shortage of less-than-happy circumstances to deal with in life, and as much as possible I want to be responsible to be a source of happiness for others, especially my kids. But I also don't think it's wise to avoid them at all costs either.

If my main objective in parenting is to make sure that my child is always happy (a seemingly noble endeavor), then I run the risk of sheltering and spoiling my child, and under-preparing them for the future. It could start with little things like always giving them a “treat” when they want it, or spending a fortune on every “must have” toy… But where then do we cross the line into catering to a child’s every whim even when it could end up damaging our kids on the long haul? And is it possible for our good intentions to actually stunt their growth and maturity?

Doing what’s right can sometimes even cause unhappiness.

As parents we know that a small child needs to be buckled into his car seat in order to be safe and protected. But sometimes that one simple act can illicit an abundance of tears and a monumental struggle for the “poor child” being forced into shoulder straps… making for one incredibly unhappy child! If I was to constantly choose my child’s immediate happiness as my first priority, I would forgo the car seat, the struggle, the tears, and his perceived pain. (Oh, the trauma of being strapped in!) I would also let him eat whatever he wanted and have every toy in sight…

But as the mom, I must be more responsible than that! I know that his tears and temporary unhappiness are worth the long-term reward of knowing that he is much more safe and protected within that little seat. That makes seeing him unhappy a little more bearable, even despite my low tolerance for his tears and crying. (Oh, how the crying wears me down emotionally!)

Just because it pains me as a mom to see my child in distress, it does not mean that I should spare my child difficulties in order to avoid feeling pain myself.

It’s easy to think that I will do the right thing in the car seat scenario with my baby, but what about when he gets older and starts making more and more decisions on his own?

Allowing children to mature is sometimes a sacrifice.

I’m all for creating safe environments for our children to live and grow within, but I will also need to learn how to let go and allow my children to live with some of the consequences of their choices (more and more as it is age-appropriate). The other alternative is to spend all my well-intended efforts sheltering Levi from the “big bad world” out there and then inadvertently leave him crippled in his ability to cope with real life once he is eventually out on his own.

To allow our children—my child—to experience life’s difficulties has got to be one of the greatest sacrifices as a parent, especially as those difficulties grow in nature and implication. And yet completely sheltering them would be a sacrifice made on their behalf that just doesn’t pan out in the long run.

Embracing the difficulties and helping them through it.

Instead of using my resources and energy to shield my child from the more painful aspects of life during the few years I have him in my home, I would rather be right there with him in the midst of the difficulties teaching him how to respond, how to cope, how to reach out for help, how to tap into his inner strength, how to call on God for grace, and how to persevere with hope for a better day. My job is to equip my child for life.

Offering comfort and committing do our best.

It’s early days for me, and I have a lifetime to learn this lesson. But for today I will remember that my son’s tears are ok. I will comfort as only a mother can, and I will try my best to teach him and train him in what is best for his overall wholeness and well-being.

I will remember that difficulties will come and that it’s not always in Levi’s best interest to try and deflect every single one of those for him. (And in the meantime, I hope to create many happy moments and memories for him in the midst of a very happy home.)

So, would you rather raise happy kids or whole kids? 

Perhaps that is a trick question, as I'm sure lasting happiness flows out of wholeness...

I want my child to be happy and whole as he matures into adulthood. After all, he’ll be a man for many more years than he’ll be my baby. {*sniff}

Dear mommy-friends, how do you deal with the issue of pain and difficulties when it comes to your children? For those of you who are new parents like me, is this something you’ve considered yet? For those of you who are more “seasoned” parents, what have you learned in walking through some of these issues and what advice can you give those who are just beginning?

thinking about the future,

Note: This post is the second of a series I am writing, inspired by the book Sacred Parenting by Gary L Thomas. Please let me know if you have the book and would like to follow along... I highly recommend it. (Please note that I am moving through the book at a fairly slow pace.)

Other posts in the Sacred Parenting Series:

living in the midst of holy teachers: our children {part 1}

Have you registered your blog here yet?

adriel booker | the mommyhood memos | 2010 
do not reproduce without written permission

living in the midst of holy teachers: our children {sacred parenting series, part 1}

“The process of parenting is one of the most spiritually formative journeys a man and a woman can ever undertake.” Gary L. Thomas (Sacred Parenting)

Although I am a new mom, and have only had my little boy on the “outside” for six months, I am already becoming so profoundly aware of this truth. I recently wrote a post about growth spurts – that of my child and my own – where I talked about the way I’m growing and changing and being shaped as a woman as I learn to give my life to my son. And I know that what I touched on in that post is only scratching the surface of where this journey of parenthood will take me throughout the rest of my lifetime.

Not the “how” by the “why” of parenting.

I’ve just started reading a book called Sacred Parenting: How Raising Children Shapes our Souls by Gary L. Thomas and I’m finding it so challenging and so refreshing at the same time. In my short few months as a mom I’ve read countless books and websites about how to take care of my baby – breast feeding, how to help them sleep, cloth diapering, pumping, immunizations, and on and on. I felt like I was spending so much time thinking about the “how” questions of parenting, that it was becoming easy to forget the “why” questions that are at the very heart of parenting.

Why do we have children? Why do we experience such a wide array of emotions? Why are we “allowed” to be parents when we are oh-so-less-than-perfect?

Children are our teachers.

In Sacred Parenting, Thomas puts forth the premise that having children is the single-biggest learning experience of our lives if we allow it to be. He says that having children is like living “in the midst of holy teachers” and I couldn’t agree more.

I can think of nothing in my life up to this point that has caused me to examine myself – my motives, my strengths, my weaknesses, my limitations, my vulnerabilities, my securities (or insecurities), my source of joy – more than becoming a mom.

Keeping perspective of the big picture.

Thomas says that our spiritual quest must drive our parenting so that we can keep right perspective. If we just let our children drive our parenting we will be living from one milestone to the next, from one bad nap time to the next, from one bout with teething or skinned knee or school program to the next.

Of course it’s important that we live in the present and enjoy the day-to-day aspects of raising our children, but in doing so we need to take care not to fall into “maintenance mode.” In maintenance mode we can get so consumed in the day-to-day that we easily forget that we are raising men and women who will go on to influence the world.

What are my motivations?

When our motivations in raising children are askew (ie raising them to make us look good or fulfill our own unmet expectations in life) then we are in danger of focusing on the minor things and forgetting the major things. (You’ve heard the expression, “major on the minors and minor on the majors,” I presume?)

For me this doesn’t mean to neglect or downplay the every day humdrum of motherhood – those diapers need to be changed… again. But what it does mean is that while taking care of the “little” things I’m doing it out of a deliberate motivation to raise a child who is healthy and whole so that he can ultimately fulfill his purpose in life. It’s doing the little things with the big things in mind. (Of course all parents desire this, but how easy it is to forget when we're caught up in the latest growth spurt?)

Keeping this perspective means appreciating my child and loving and accepting him unconditionally even when he isn’t 'behaved' or 'accomplished' or whatever else makes me feel successful as a parent. It means remembering that it’s not all about me, because—if it is—then I will quickly grow resentful and frustrated by the little munchkin that has taken over my life and eats up most of my time. Because ultimately, as Thomas says, “when we don’t understand the purpose of parenting, the process becomes tedious.”

When purpose gets crowed out.

When we neglect the spiritual aspect of our parenting, we easily become resentful, controlling, intolerant and demanding of our children in ways that are not only unfair but unloving. God is the ultimate help for all that we face, and—if we allow—He is the one that will help us to see how our children shape our souls, mold our hearts, and experience life in deeper ways than ever before.

The transforming process.

While raising children is one of the most profoundly joyful and fulfilling endeavors, it’s also one of the most humbling endeavors often bringing frustration, and pain, and sacrifice. Although as a new mother I’ve yet to experience the depth of these things that I know is inevitably coming, I’m trying to establish a perspective early-on that will help me to understand the transforming process that I am in, as well as the purpose behind it all.

I’m so grateful for my little “holy teacher” that has come in the form of a sweet baby boy. I’m learning so much, I’m growing as a woman, I’m having my rough edges sanded down, I’m learning compassion, flexibility, humility, faith, and love on heights I’ve never scaled before.

Yes, I have a long way to go. But I’m thanking God—and Levi, my little “holy teacher”—for how far I’ve come already.

Dear mommy-friends, some questions to think about:

• Do you ever have trouble remembering the “why’s” of parenting because you get too busy with the “how’s”?
• When is the last time you examined your parenting motivations?
• When is the last time you thought about the “big picture” of how you want to raise your child, and how do you incorporate that in your day-to-day parenting?
• How do you find strength to get through the potential tediousness of the day-to-day?
• When is the last time you allowed your child to teach you something? (Or recognized it?)

This post is the first of a series I will be writing, inspired by the book Sacred Parenting by Gary L Thomas. Please let me know if you have the book and would like to follow along... I highly recommend it. (Please note that I'll be moving through the book at a fairly slow pace, in order to keep writing a variety of other posts as well.)

Have you registered your blog here yet?

adriel booker | the mommyhood memos | 2010 
do not reproduce without written permission

who's growth spurt is it anyway?

Growth. Spurt.

No thank you.
                    
And… yes please.

Any mom who’s successfully navigated one of their little one’s growth spurts knows how dreaded these beasts are: the fussiness, the constant feeding (including the wild protests when—gasp—there’s no milk left in there!), the all-over-the-place nap times, the crib parties at 8pm, 10pm, midnight, 2am, 4am… you get the picture.

{No thank you.}

And yet these same growth spurts are exactly what we want to see: our little one growing strong and healthy, gaining weight, acquiring balance, learning new tricks.

{Yes please.}

Levi recently finished another growth spurt. Whoever said they come at four weeks, eight weeks, four months, and six months certainly forgot to inform my son. In this house it feels like as soon as we’re out of one, another one begins. (Does anyone else seem to have these things monthly??) And I’ve also read that they usually last about two days. Again… make that four to six days in this happy little home.

Growth spurts have caused me to do a whole range of things from questioning my supply to acquiring rug burns on my knees as I ask God for mercy. I’ve pumped like crazy, and gone days on end with what any sane person would call “catnaps” through the nights. I’ve cried. I’ve laughed. I’ve gotten angry. I’ve gotten silly tired. I’ve been confused. And I’ve asked my husband a thousand times, “this is normal, right?”

This last growth spurt was a doozy. It came at about five months and one week… and stayed for daaaaays. We had almost an entire week of being up six or seven times a night… on a good night. I was frazzled and seriously ready to hire a nanny and go back to “work” (which, in fact, was sounding more and more like a holiday). There were lots of tears... from both of us.

And then I realized the real reason the growth spurt was so painful: Levi wasn’t the only one growing.

Yes, my son was stacking on the pounds – I’m sure of it. He was eating more and growing like crazy right before my eyes. He was forcing me to—yet again—swap over his clothes, putting some away for good and pulling out bigger sizes. {tear} He was indeed having a growth spurt.

But the real reason it felt so painful was much more personal: I, too, was having a growth spurt.

Through the constant feeding, the sleep deprivation, the questions reeling around my first-time-mommy brain… I had to (again) make the choice to be second in line. I had to (again) set aside my preferences and to give up my personal rights. {Free time? What’s that?! Sleep? Huh?! Energy? Where'd it go?!} I had to put someone else’s needs ahead of my own.

Of course I like to think I’ve done this before… and really, I have. But any parent will tell you that doing it in your role as mommy (or daddy) will take you to a much deeper level of sacrifice than you’ve ever known before. I never understood—never could understand—it on this level until now.

{So this is what it means to “grow up”?}

I don’t know how many times in that week that I moaned and complained (even if it was sometimes just under my breath). I’m not sure how many times I felt sorry for myself and wanted to swap places with my husband or my working-mom friends. I don’t know how many times I fantasized about a weekend away—completely alone—with just a stack of books and a huge bed with lots of blankets and pillows… and room service.

And I don’t know how many times the thought crossed my mind that I really am selfish.

Selfish. Ugh, such an ugly word… such an ugly attitude.

Yes, baby growth spurts are hard (and yeah, they definitely get cranky… making momma cranky), but in the grand scheme of things they are just a few tough days packed in between a whole lot of good ones.

But my growth spurt… I was being stretched! I was—I am—growing, changing, learning even more how to be selfless, flexible, adaptable, giving. I don’t think I was a horrible person before becoming a mother, and yet in doing so I have seen that I also had a lot of character flaws still to be worked out in my life. {God help me!}

I’m being refined as a woman like never before. I’m stepping up to the plate when I’d rather just sit the round out. I’m facing my fears and insecurities and anxieties (that I didn’t even realize I had) with a new resolve and boldness.

I'm still making mistakes, still having hard days... but more and more I'm also finding peace in the chaos.

I’m growing up.

So, as Levi eats more to sustain his growth and take him to the next level, so do I. It’s just that my “eating” looks a little different. My “food” is prayer, breathing deeply, talking the challenges through, making time to think and reflect, taking things in stride, being deliberate about “rolling with it”, choosing humility and sacrifice, and choosing to become a better woman.

We are both growing.

Painful? Absolutely. {Ugh, no thank you.}

Productive and healthy and necessary and good? Most definitely. {Yes... yes please.}

Dear mommy friends, what are your biggest challenges as you're being stretched to become a "bigger" woman? In what ways do you feel motherhood has caused you to "grow up"?

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"You're a great mum." (Can you please tell me again?)

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"you are a great mum." (can you please tell me again?)

Before becoming a mom I had heard it a thousand times: “Being a mom is the best—and hardest—job in the world.” But nothing could quite prepare me for the reality of that statement.

As a tween, teenager, and young adult I was always around children. I started volunteering in the church nursery and teaching Sunday school when I was about 10 years old. I also started babysitting the neighbour kids around the same time.

By the time I reached fourteen I was such a sought-after babysitter that I literally had jobs lined up every night of the week, and sometimes 2-3 times a day on the weekends.

When I was old enough to get a workers permit, I began working at a local preschool and childcare center. I loved my job and I worked there for four years all during high school. After that I went on to be a nanny for twin baby girls.

I loved kids and kids loved me!

When I was in college I took at developmental psychology class. Not only did I ace the class, but my professor told me that some day I should write a book on parenting. (She told me this based on my essays on early childhood development.) I was 19 then, and nowhere near ready to be a parent, but I left that class with even more confidence about my ability to care for children.

I knew things would be different when it was my turn to be a mommy, and that having kids of my own is far different to looking after someone else’s kids. And yet, even still, I went into mommyhood with a lot of confidence. After all, I loved kids and kids loved me… right? Plus, I had a lot of experience… right?

I was totally secure when it came to working with, and caring for, children.

So although I was as prepared as I could be for the challenge when my day as mommy finally came, what I wasn’t prepared for was that there would be days when I feel incredibly insecure as a mother. I wasn’t prepared for the fact that there would days when I have no idea what I’m doing wrong, and yet—judging by the amount of tears—I clearly wasn’t doing something right either. I wasn’t prepared for the days that I would feel just a little bit incompetent or that my husband would be a better mom that me. And I wasn’t prepared for the days where I would want to pack up and leave. (Where I’d go, I have no idea.)

This entire barrage of emotions and insecurities has taken me by complete surprise.

I’ve always been a pretty confident person, fairly self-assured, and a great problem-solver. I’ve been an “achiever” and a make-it-happen sort of girl. I was single and quite independent until I was 30, and I had a lot of life experience both socially and professionally through my work in various parts of the world. I’ve always considered myself a “strong woman” who could make the most of challenges and opportunities alike.

And yet in mommyhood, I’m learning that some days I can’t just “make it happen”. Some days I can’t just solve the problem the way I’d like to. Some days my baby is just going to cry, no matter how hard I try to help. Some days I feel really vulnerable.

This means that I am learning that I have to loosen the grip on my own expectations. I have to let things go. I have to accept that this little person will not fit into my box. For me this is a huge challenge, because when baby is not happy, I’m not happy… and I feel as if I’m failed both of us in some way.

And then I find myself asking the question again, “Why is this so hard?”

Deep down I know there’s a very good reason that it’s hard, many reasons in fact.

Yes, it’s hard because I’m tired – that’s a given – but it’s also hard because I’ve never been here before. It’s hard because I’m on unfamiliar ground. It’s hard because life has changed drastically. And it’s hard because love requires sacrifice.

If there’s one thing I’ve learned about any relationship, it’s that you can’t have purity of love without purity of sacrifice. The most clear example of this is in the Bible when God gave the world the freedom to choose to follow Him or not (an incredible sacrifice born out of incredible love). You can see this principle right throughout all relationships, especially close ones like marriage, family, and intimate friendships.

And so I look at my own sacrifices – things like lack of sleep, lack of free time, lack of personal space – and I know that these are so small in comparison to the love that I feel for my son. But in those moments of confusion and tiredness and desperation to know how to care for him and not go insane in the process, it’s hard to remember that my “small” sacrifices are part of the loving.

It’s tough, and we all need encouragement along the way.

A few days ago a friend of mine came over for a “cuppa”. We sat on the couch with my happy baby bouncing between our laps and she told me what a great mum I am. Immediately my eyes welled up with tears.

Apparently she struck a nerve.

This is a woman who’s been a mom herself for 19 years. This is a woman who knows what she’s talking about. This is the kind of woman who I needed to affirm and encourage me.

Those simple words were like water to my weary soul.

As I struggle in my mind to stay in a place of peace within, of confidence in myself, of strength in the midst of vulnerability, and of joy through the trials and tiredness, I was reminded how crucial it is to receive affirmation and encouragement for the journey, especially from the “right” people.

Because some days I sail through motherhood – I feel like a natural and it all comes so easily as my day flows beautifully. And then other days I stumble along, feeling like a mess in need of some serious motherhood coaching and instruction!

So, even though I’m still new at all of this, I hope that I can also be the “right person” to encourage someone else that needs it… because I will be the first to admit that being a mommy is not easy, even for *ahem* strong, capable women. Being a mommy requires vast amounts of patience, perseverance, self control, and personal sacrifice. And, to most of us, those things don’t come easily no matter how successful we thought we were in character or ability prior to becoming moms.

Children are a gift in so many ways, but the aspect I’m reminded of today is that they are a gift to remind us that we aren’t invincible, we aren’t perfect, we aren’t in control, we are still learning, still growing… and—with the help and encouragement of others who’ve gone before us—we are totally up for the challenge.

Thank you God for my Little Gift sent to make me a better woman... His name is Levi.

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oh my goodness, how life has changed!

Life has changed.

A thousand people can tell you that life radically changes when you have your first child. But can anyone prepare you for the way your heart is unlocked?

Oh. . . my. . . goodness. The expression “melts my heart” has taken on entirely new meaning.

Ryan and I have had our world turned up-side-down. Yes, the sleep is interrupted. Yes, there are more loads of laundry than ever before. Yes, our calendars now factor in nursing and naptimes. Yes, we now stand at a change table far more than we stand under a shower. Yes, we now wear a combination of both perfume and baby spit up. . .

And yes. . . we wouldn’t have it any other way.

Levi is about to turn three months old. It’s hard to believe our little floppy newborn with the squishy nose and tiny bum can now hold his head strong, make faces, and both cry and “talk” to us in ways which express different needs and emotions.

He is a wonderful baby. (But then again, what baby isn’t wonderful? They just are.)

Sure, he poops on us every now and then. Sure, he sometimes cries so hard you’d think we were pinching him or starving him. Sure, he wakes us during the sweetest sleep.

But this is our boy. . . Our beautiful boy.

He’s a little bit of Ryan (I swear he has Ryan’s feet). And he’s a little bit of me (he sleeps like me with his arms over his head). And he’s every bit Levi Scott Booker – completely unlike either of us.

He’s already teaching us so much – perfect love knows not performance or achievement or behaviour or accomplishment or failure or weakness. We love him just the way he is – our “perfect” baby. And he loves us just the way we are – Daddy’s funny faces and Momma’s silly songs. We are as perfect to him as he is to us.

We’ll enjoy these sweet years of being his “favourites” before he discovers our many flaws and shortcomings. And in the meantime–and I’m sure, beyond–no doubt we’ll learn so much from each other.

Thank you dear God for this most precious of all gifts. We absolutely love being Levi’s parents.