And Then There Were Five…

This little bundle arrived about three weeks ago.

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It’s strange how quickly time flies. I, literally, can’t believe I’m actually an adult some days, let alone a wife and mother of three. This pregnancy and now this baby have found me more contemplative than my other two children and I’d love to share a few things I’ve been thinking about and learning. (I’m only 3 weeks post-partum, so my brain is still mushy. I apologize if something doesn’t make sense.)

Here goes:

– I have spent the past 5+ years pregnant or breastfeeding, sometimes both. Because we intend to have at least one more biological child, I can expect to spend the next 4 or 5 years either pregnant or breastfeeding, as well. Although I don’t resent using my body this way, I look forward to the day when my body will not be attached to a child and it will feel like it’s ‘mine” again.

The physical toll that pregnancy and motherhood take on a woman’s body–and the way it affects her body image–is significant. A woman’s body changes and ages through the seasons of her life. I’m hoping I can appreciate those changes as I mature through those seasons and have reasonable expectations for myself and for other women.

– While in the throes of this third labor experience, I decided that childbirth sucks. I’m willing to admit that to myself now. So, after three superstar attempts, I have given up “the natural childbirth” dream. From here on out, my only goal in childbirth is to have a baby. I will still celebrate the success of those who have had awesome, empowering childbirth experiences, but I am going to stop trying so hard to have my own. I don’t expect childbirth to make me feel more powerful. I don’t need to feel more womanly. I don’t want to feel more in tune with my body. I just want to meet that baby. As long as that happens, I’m a happy camper.

– Mothers everywhere should be able to participate in a worldwide clothing co-op. When something gets too big (pre-pregnancy), or too small (during pregnancy), or just ill-fitting (post-pregnancy), you can trade it in for something else that fits better. Who wants to make this happen for me?

Baby poop is so much better than toddler poop.

– The hardest part of mothering is different for every woman. On the top of my list is a very simple fact: children need their mother. My guess is that many mothers, at their worst, are co-dependent. They thrive on being needed. It turns out, at my worst, I am close to the opposite: I hate being needed. I am thankful that I understood this about myself before I became a mother or this would have been ten times harder to adjust to.

– Also on the top of my list: I am never alone. A mother might be the only person the planet, apart from the President and the Pope, who has to ask someone to guard the door while she gets dressed, showers, or uses the bathroom.

Having a new baby gives you a whole new perspective on how huge your older children are. Seriously. They are huge.

– Now that I have three children, I’m starting to understand how easy it is to just keep having more of them. After a certain point, a family becomes a living, breathing organism with its own rhythm. Get into the rhythm and adding another moving piece doesn’t seem so tricky. (Just to clarify: I am not claiming to have found this magical rhythm, only claiming that I now believe it exists.)

– And, yes, your capacity for loving really does increase with every child. It is possible to love them all.

– I remember when I had my first child and older moms treated me like I was naive for setting high standards for myself and my family. You know the type. They give you the “first-time mom” rhetoric that claims every mother starts as a Perfect Mom idealist and ends up feeding her kids Lucky Charms for dinner in front of Disney cartoons. I hated that rhetoric then and I hate it now. It’s like a pre-emptive “I told you so” and it’s degrading to young mothers. The truth is that all mothers start naive. And all mothers learn and grow and change. And there is no reason to shame a young mother for starting with bold assumptions about childbirth, breastfeeding, education, etc. We should be gentle with the way we handle “naive” first-time parents and, rather than acting as if they will “wise up” after parenthood proves them wrong, we need to reinforce that good parents only get better with time.

– On that note: I am afraid that the better I get at being a mom, the worse I am at being a wife. I wonder if this happens to a lot of women. Their roles shift and their attention shifts and they don’t have enough to give to everyone. (This is a problem. I’m trying to deal with it.)

– If motherhood is making me a bad wife, it’s making me an even worse friend. (Sorry, friends. If there are any of you left…)

– One of the main arguments people give against having multiple children is that “they are too expensive.” This is a cop-out. Show me how a man spends his money and I’ll tell you what he loves. Having multiple children means rethinking priorities. It means sacrificing things you’d like to buy for yourself. And it means reconsidering what each child “needs” for himself.

– We bought a large SUV last summer because we needed a vehicle that would fit at least two children and three adults. We opted out of buying a minivan because we did not want a minivan. We know full-well that most families end up buying a minivan. We know that most people who have a minivan love their minivan. And we know that, someday, we will have to buy some other type of vehicle (likely a minivan). But we aren’t ready for it yet.

– That said, I nearly cried/screamed the first few times I tried to load all three of my children into said SUV by myself.

– I much prefer navigating a walk around downtown to loading/unloading three children into/out of a car. And parking lots? Ugh! They are death traps. I’d take sidewalks any day.

Don’t even get me started on carseats. I hate ’em.

Narcissistic Birthday Post

Last weekend, I celebrated my 31st birthday. In honor of my big day, I’m giving myself the gift of allowing myself to talk about myself for a few moments.

At least you aren’t being forced to read this, right?

31 Things You May Or May Not Know, Or Want To Know, About Me

On the Myers-Briggs personality profile, I score as an INTJ. My I:E, N:S, and T:F ratios are all either 8:2 or 9:1. My J:P ratio is more like 6:4. Some of you will know what this means and you will find it interesting. Those of you who don’t know what this means probably don’t care.

One of my deepest fears, as an introvert, is that people mistake my distance for a lack of personal interest. I actually really, really like most people and, if I had the emotional energy, I would love to be more engaged.

Being an “introverted thinker” makes me a terrible wife if I’m not careful to make adjustments for the sake of my husband.

When people have husband:wife conversations and talk about the differences between men and women, I usually have more in common (emotionally) with the men in the scenario.

I’ve always made faster friends with boys and men than with girls, but I am not a women-hater by any means. It’s just always been easier for me to speak the language of men than of women.

One of my favorite aspects of being a mother has been the way mothering has liberated the caretaker/emotional/nurturer side of me that has never really had a place to exercise itself. I didn’t quite know what to expect of myself when I approached motherhood, but I have been amazed by my capacity to love my children.

I think I’ve always been a terrible roommate. (Maybe some of you can attest to that.)

I am a complete idiot when it comes to cleaning. You know how some people “just don’t get” math or philosophy or music theory? I feel that way about cleaning. It is a daily struggle for me to remember that the fan needs to be dusted. If we were wealthy, I would hire a housekeeper.

I am the same way about shopping and clothes. It is, literally, like a foreign language to me. I simply don’t get it.

In high school, I swore off beauty products for ideological reasons. I spent the next seven years in various stages of anti-beauty (on purpose). It was a very strange, but very important, few years.

I’m still trying to navigate the world of beauty, fashion, and femininity. This is another thing that makes my relationship with women a little–awkward.

For a year after college, I sold athletic shoes as my main source of income while traveling and playing music on the weekends. I was actually fantastic at sales and great at my job, but it eventually starting sucking my soul. I just could not justify making money by convincing people that they need a $150 pair of running shoes. It felt dirty.

Being an idealist really gets in the way of life sometimes.

The only serious career aspirations I ever remember having were: First, to be an Egyptologist (this was in grade school); In middle school and into high school, I considered being an interior designer or architect; By the time I graduated from high school, I was pursuing music ministry.

(There was also a brief period during which I aspired to be a professional water skier. No joke.)

My college degree is in Worship Arts. It’s a fancy way to say that I know a lot about why Christians do what they do when they get together at church and I’ve spent many, many hours thinking about how to do it better.

When we got married, my husband and I decided to live in Over-the-Rhine.

We were here to plant a church.

It did not go so well.

(There is more to every story.)

We have now lived in OTR for more than five years. We have a serious love/hate relationship with our life here, but it’s very hard to imagine ever leaving.

But I still dream about moving far, far away from the city.

One of the reasons I love cities is that I am fascinated by architecture and the spaces we inhabit–both private and public. You can tell a lot about a culture by the spaces they inhabit.

I think my love for architecture was birthed from my father’s love for it. As a child, he took me with him to scope out unfinished homes, mid-construction and then also to open houses on new homes in the area. In middle school, I would beg my mother for magazines of house plans instead of fashion magazines.

One of the reasons I never went into design or architecture is that I’m not a very creative person. I’m more of a technician, an engineer-type. I think I’m more interested in the theory of architecture and place–urban-planning, maybe–than in the actual creative process of design.

I am not an artist.

In college, I spent a lot of time with artists, brilliant people who made me feel brilliant just by being around them. Those were golden times.

I started writing music over ten years ago. I’ve written a few pretty good songs, but nothing awesome. I’ve made a half dozen recordings, but nothing I’m very proud of.

Three times in the past ten years, I’ve considered that my “music career” was officially over. One of them was when I moved to Cincinnati.

I was never supposed to stay in Cincinnati. I was going to live here for two years while my boyfriend finished art school and then we were going to go live out our bohemian fantasy on the road or on the trail or out of the country doing something creative and wonderful. That dream ended 8 years ago.

When I met my husband, about six months later, he made me love this city. And, no matter how long we’re here, this city will always be a part of what made me fall in love with him.

In Defense of the Radical

In an effort to clear my head and offer a different perspective for some of my Christian friends on the issue of “Radical Christianity” and whether or not it is required of us:

A few months ago, some friends started circulating an article online that critiqued contemporary social manifestations of Christianity. It claimed that these new Christian leaders are wrong in their assumption that Christ has called all of us to “radical,” or “missional” living, that these people are narcissistic and legalistic, and that most of us are called to live much more ordinary, simple lives. Since then, I’ve seen about a dozen similar articles and blog posts, critiquing everything from individual people to specific ideologies and practices.

A friend sent me a link to the original article and cued me into the conversation with a few very simple words: You will hate this article.

She was right.

My first brush with a real Radical was when I was in elementary school.
Our Sunday school class at church did a series on international missionaries and I heard, for the first time, the stories of Jim Elliot and of Amy Carmichael. Those two missionaries became the standard in my mind, the archetypal Radical who gives their life to serve God. My interest in their lives and missions led me to discover dozens of other missionaries throughout history who have given their lives (both literally and figuratively) in radical ways, both here and abroad. I was drawn to them as if they were rock stars–if they sold t-shirts, I would have worn them–and their stories planted seeds in me that took root and sprouted a commitment to do something BIG in the future for God.

In high school and college, I devoured books by and stories of all different types of Radical people–both within the Church and without. I started college convinced that God had called me to full-time, radical commitment to ministry and then, by the time I was 21 (oh, gosh, that was ten years ago), I had just graduated from college and was searching for the path that would lead me to that radical future. In those four years, I had dipped my toes in a million different ministry pools, worked in churches and out of churches, been overseas to do ministry, spent time with the homeless folks who lived behind my building, and had begun writing music in the hope that I had something significant to share with the world.

Those next few years didn’t pan out the way I’d intended. I had a severe crisis of faith toward the end of college that poured over into my “young adult years” and muddled my early 20’s. I followed my boyfriend to a different city, joined AmeriCorps, took an environmental educator job (and one as a bartender to make ends meet), and spent some time sorting things out. It was a messy but monumental few years, both spiritually and emotionally, but by the time my 25th birthday rolled around a lot had changed. I’ll spare you the details here, but suffice to say that my world was slowly rebuilt–piece by piece. Faith, relationships, family, ministry, etc.

I guess I never got to live out my Radical fantasy. Instead, I wasted “my best years” (i.e. my 20’s) in a journey of self-discovery and spiritual development. In a tangible way, I have a lot to show for it–a wonderful husband and (nearly) 3 beautiful children, a nice home in a great neighborhood, a solid group of friends, a few decent songs under my belt. But, in terms of the radical existence I’d hoped for, it’s not quite what I intended.

When some of my peers started circulating these articles about how Radicals are out to make us feel bad about our average Christian lives, on a base level, I agreed with some of the critiques. I worry, often, that I can never live up to the standard of “radical” that I once prescribed to. And many of the critiques I’ve read–especially those written by moms like me–have really gripped me and said aloud things that I’ve felt many, many times in the past 5 years since I got married and settled deeper and deeper into “normal life:”

“I’m afraid I’m not doing enough.”
“My work is not important enough.”
“My lifestyle is not radical enough.”

But, after a few months of thinking it over, I’m willing to reconsider.

I still believe–wholeheartedly–that every Christian is called to be a Radical.
What I mean by “radical” is what Jesus mentioned in Matthew 24. You know, that business about “taking up your cross” to follow Him? Yes, I still believe that Jesus meant what He said and that it is exactly what his disciples are called to do.

But, as I said, I’m sympathetic to the critiques of modern Radicals for a few reasons.

First of all, none of us like being called into question. Not by our pastors, not by our peers, and definitely not by some skinny-pants-wearing guy across the country writing a blog about his innovative ministry.

Also, the world of the internet has created a culture of instant celebrity and fake community. In the world of social networking, we can be inspired by strangers who have found their niche in the Church and world, but we can never know their whole story or be in a relationship with them that offers the accountability and mentorship we’d need to actually learn from them. The capacity for spreading news about other people is immense, considering how quickly a single blog post can be spread between hundreds of friends. But it can lead to a confusing and dangerous sense of importance–both on their side and ours.

These inspirational stories can also confuse us into believing that some random blogger’s particular calling is magically transferable to our situation and our context. But it’s simply not the case. The way we live out the mission of the Church was never meant to be homogeneous. I can almost guarantee that many of these modern-day Radicals already understand this. It’s those of us on the other end that get confused and defensive.

Add to that, we mistakenly equate “radical” with “eccentric.” Those of us who live and look like normal people are extra sensitive about this (as tend to be older folks who have “outgrown” their youthful eccentricities), and it makes us extra defensive when any eccentric personality questions our lifestyle. But the truth is that many of the most radically mission-focused people I’ve known were pretty lame by pop culture standards. They live in normal houses and eat normal food; they get normal haircuts and shop at Target. What makes them radical is their mission, not their appearance.

The eccentricity issue is true for the nature of their mission, as well. Just because some Radicals have been called to ministry in wild places or in wild ways, it doesn’t negate the ordinary, every day work that every person has to do on an average day. Radicals need clean underwear, too, and if you are a woman raising a Godly family as a part of your ministry, you should expect that much of your time will be spent doing things like laundry instead of the more exciting things that 22 year-old single and childless women and men have time to do.

That said, there will always be eccentric people in the Church. This is especially true in an era when so many young people are a part of what is sometimes called the Creative Class–a demographic of people who are creating culture rather than consuming it. Creative people will naturally decorate their lives with more color and it’s really not their fault that I’m sensitive about my own lame taste.

Also, before assuming that a particular eccentric aesthetic is just a matter of taste, we should consider what it calls into question about your own choice in purchased goods, fashion, and lifestyle. Sure, there are plenty of self-appointed prophets who point fingers at the rest of us, but they are the minority. Most eccentric folks are really just trying to live by example. In fact, someone once explained their personal style to me as being “a walking hyperbole.” Maybe the judgement I feel is actually more akin to insecurity or (gasp!) Godly conviction. I’m sure that, after seeing John the Baptist, some of his contemporaries questioned their hairstyles, too. And rightfully so.

Basically, I think it’s important that those of us who struggle with feeling “normal” don’t blame the Radicals for our struggle. If radical discipleship should be the standard–as I believe it should–then the Radicals are not the enemy. The Church would actually benefit from more of them, not fewer.

I would like to quickly (ha! quickly?) offer a few things that I think all radical disciples have in common so we can see through the faux celebrities and pure eccentrics and help define what we, as individuals called to discipleship, might look like as Radicals.

1. Radicals are motivated by ideology. They believe they’ve been called to a particular mission and are willing to put the mission before more common motivations like self-preservation, comfort, and practicality. In certain personalities, this can come across as being judgmental or proud, but it is more likely conviction–something that, if we’re honest, we don’t see enough of these days to really know how to recognize it.

2. Radicals work humbly, with or without recognition. They are not self-made celebrities. But, by sharing their stories and encouraging others to follow their example, they are often made examples by those who they inspire. Very few Radicals would welcome a following. Most would probably prefer a faithful group of co-laborers to help with the mission.

3. Radicals are willing to take chances. Because of their strong faith and ideology, they are willing to do things that others are not. This includes wild and crazy things like selling everything to open an orphanage in the Sudan and simple, wonderful things like having an awkward conversation with that extra difficult visitor at church. They have nothing to lose and so are willing to go places that are difficult and uncomfortable.

4. Radicals are dependent on God’s provision. Pursuing their calling means relying on God’s providence over their future, their family, their income, and safety. They have put it all in His hands. This is the part of radical-living that makes most of us very uncomfortable. The concept of “daily bread” is scary, especially for those of us with spouses and children dependent upon the same daily provision. No matter what their mission and calling, a Radical’s daily bread will be enough to sustain them and fulfill their mission. (Just to be clear, those who receive a larger allotment of this proverbial bread are supposed to be using it to fulfill the mission of the Church, not simply build their stock portfolios.)

5. Radicals live intentionally as missionaries. They do not just float through life. Their heart for ministry has brought them to a particular people or place and they have invested their lives there and they are intentional about what that life looks like. The Church is called to preach the Gospel in the urban core and suburban community of every city, the heart of every farming community, every corner of industry and business and culture, and every tribe across the globe. We should be thankful that other people are called to places where we have no urgency to go, and can never excuse ourselves from finding a similar calling elsewhere. Some call it “mission”; I tend to call it “vocation.” It’s the same thing, really.

6. Radicals love other disciples. They love sharing stories, encouraging those engaged in ministry, promoting each other’s ministries, and learning from each other. They are the iron sharpening iron. They give generously to each other. They share their provision and resources. They push buttons and challenge each other and are willing to learn.

And, perhaps, most significant is this:

7. Radicals boldly pursue the Kingdom of God. Their mission is not borne of compulsion, fear, or the emotional need to please God. They are pursuing a deeper need and desire–participation in the grand scheme of God’s redemption of the world. They have seen a vision of the Kingdom and they are running toward it. It is a difficult, but joyful pursuit; it is an easy yoke and light burden, but a yoke nonetheless. It requires everything and offers something altogether different in return. They know that it is bigger than themselves and the role they play, but they are happy to play that role, regardless.

This is where the author of that original article really missed the mark. His main point was that “there are no little people or insignificant callings in the Kingdom.” I obviously agree, but I believe he is missing the point. The bigger issue–the one addressed by Radicals–is that there is a difference between living “a simple life” because you feel called to nothing in particular and living out your simple life as a part of a greater calling and mission. The problem is not the nature of our calling, but our complete lack of a commitment to our calling. If we would begin to live our lives in terms of vocation and mission, we would see value in all work for which the Kingdom is the intended end.

To give a personal example: my problem is not that motherhood is made of too ordinary a life to be considered “radical,” but that we’ve stripped it of its rightful place as a God-given vocation. Doing this renders the day-to-day work of motherhood meaningless and, therefore, ourselves and other mothers as simply “ordinary.”

I guess, in short, I could have summed this all up by saying that it’s not the hipster sunglasses that make someone a Radical, it’s their ability to see the Kingdom of God and step in to be a part of it. And once they’ve seen it, like the merchant in pursuit of the costliest of pearls that Jesus talked about (Matthew 13) , they are willing to give everything for the sake of attaining it.

When faced with the call to become a Radical, let us stop defending ourselves and the parts of our lives that feel ordinary and “normal,” as if those somehow disqualify us from the task. Let us, instead, let the lives of Radicals inspire us and challenge us to find our particular calling in the Kingdom, be it through wild and crazy or simple and ordinary lives.

Don’t cheapen the grace that allows you to participate in the Kingdom of God by thinking that it will cost you nothing. If you believe that Jesus was joking when he described the life of discipleship as denying ourselves, giving up everything, and following him, you have misunderstood the sacrificial nature of discipleship. Disciples pursue the Kingdom, regardless of cost. The Person standing at the end of the pursuit (Jesus) is the one who redeems the sacrifice. And the pursuit itself is what counts us among His disciples.

The Hardest Part of Motherhood

Some women hate pregnancy.
Some women dread childbirth.
Some women can’t bear to lose sleep while caring for a restless newborn or doing laundry or changing diapers.

Parenting young children (and old, I can imagine) is hard, on multiple levels, and we could list the reasons.

But, the hardest part of motherhood?
It’s the moment a mother (or mother to-be or mother in-waiting) realizes the fragility of a child’s life and their own powerlessness to protect it.

Today marks 26 weeks into my third pregnancy.

Unlike many of my peers, getting pregnant has been easy for me and my pregnancies have been relatively drama-free. And childbirth, though excruciating, has left me unscathed and willing to go another round. I was not naive about the difficulties of pregnancy and childbirth. And, as I entered those awkward first few months of motherhood, I was not surprised by the difficulties I encountered. And now these wild and crazy first few years? I’ve never been surprised by how difficult this work truly is.

But, six weeks ago, I was surprised by a phone call from my OBGYN.

The short version of my story is that our baby–our little girl–has a Single Umbilical Artery (SUA). The doctor called me that day to tell me that a Perinatologist had spotted this abnormality on the photos of our otherwise-normal ultrasound and wanted to follow-up with another, more detailed ultrasound to rule out other possible abnormalities. She assured me that, given the otherwise normal ultrasound images, the SUA was probably an isolated abnormality. But, I should be aware that SUA is often present with other congenital defects and further testing would need to be done.

Since it was a Friday afternoon, I had all weekend to play internet detective and find out what terrible things could be happening to my baby.

What I found out: First of all, SUA is fairly common (somewhere between 1 in 100 and 1 in 500 live births). And, like my doctor said, the most common, majority-case scenario was that the SUA was isolated and there would be no other abnormalities. But, if our situation was like the minority of SUA cases, we could be dealing with much more difficult implications. The possibilities range from slight and manageable challenges (things like low birth weight, premature birth, or Trisomy 21–aka Down Syndrome) to much more severe abnormalities (things like renal and cardiac anomalies, Intrauterine Growth Restriction, and Trisomy 18–aka Edwards Syndrome). The more severe abnormalities could lead to miscarriage, stillbirth, and early infant death.

As you can imagine, it was a rough weekend.

The good news for us is that when we saw the Perinatologist early that next week, the only other issue he detected in our Level II ultrasound is a small placenta tear. There don’t seem to be any other congenital defects. I have now been elevated to “high risk” but, as long as the placenta tear does not grow or develop into a clot, we should not expect any serious complications with the rest of the pregnancy or our daughter’s health.

How’s that for good news?

But I’m not writing this to tell you the good news.

As much as I’m thankful a million times over that our baby appears healthy, our SUA scare has reminded me of all the mothers who don’t hear good news.

It made me feel real, physical, tangible pain for all the women I know who simply cannot get pregnant at all,
and those who can’t imagine paying for an adoption or aren’t approved for an adoption or whose almost-adopted babies are taken away,
and those who miscarry once or twice or five times,
and those whose babies are born already dead,
and those whose babies are born with broken bodies that never heal,
and those whose healthy children grow sick and die,
or whose children get hurt and die,
or whose children are victimized or brutalized or hurt themselves,
and the list goes on and on and on.

And it made me feel scared and helpless and powerless.

I always knew–cognitively, like the way I know “how gravity works”–that something like this could happen to me or to my children. But, now I was faced with the reality of it.

Maybe it’s my turn.
Maybe this time it’s my baby.

I don’t want to be overly dramatic about this because, as I’ve said, my story ends with good news and the fear of losing a child is nothing compared to the reality of losing a child. But I also don’t want to minimize the lesson learned here, the important and sobering lesson that every mother will learn eventually:
The hardest part of motherhood is the fragility of a child’s life and the knowledge that we are powerlessness to protect it.

The big question, I guess, is how we deal with this knowledge.
How do we continue having more children and loving them fully and deeply when we know that, at any moment, we could lose them? How can we have the faith to even let them out the front door or in a car or down the slide at the park without fearing for their lives?

In addition to not over-dramatizing this story, I also don’t want to over-theologize it because I know that many of the people who read my blog are not Christians and don’t have the same context for understanding the way the Maker of the Universe orchestrates the lives of small children. But, I don’t know how I could process these thoughts without my faith. I’m sure there are other coping mechanisms that I could enlist to help, but I’m not sure any other system of belief would offer the same consolation.

A few years ago, a friend told me she had just lost her third pregnancy–two to miscarriage and one to stillbirth. The news was difficult to process, but it was even more difficult to find a proper response. I’m not sure I ever found one.

The picture that came to mind, when I considered her situation, was the concept of painful expectation that Paul talks about in the book of Romans.

For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us. For the creation waits with eager longing for the revealing of the sons of God. For the creation was subjected to futility, not willingly, but because of him who subjected it, in hope that the creation itself will be set free from its bondage to corruption and obtain the freedom of the glory of the children of God. For we know that the whole creation has been groaning together in the pains of childbirth until now. And not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies. (Ch.8, v. 18-23)

I don’t want to stretch this meaning too far, but I think its application might be appropriate.

Basically, I believe this:

We are broken people. We live in a broken world with broken bodies. We give birth, in pain, to broken children. This brokenness should not surprise us. But we are suffering through this painful, corrupted world, in expectation of complete and total redemption–of not just our souls but also our bodies. And, to this hope and for this hope, we persevere. We do not believe that the loss of a child is good or welcome or any less tragic. But, if we believe this story, we believe that every breath breathed by that child–or heartbeat, or year lived–is a miracle and a gift because it gives us a glimpse of redemption. This might not make loss any easier, but it does make the hope of redemption all the more poignant.

 

Mothering is hard.
Physically, emotionally, and mentally, it requires constant labor and commitment.

But the joys of mothering can not be understated.

And, though the fear of losing a child can steal the joy of mothering, it doesn’t need to. Instead, it could free us to embrace each moment with our children–unborn, newborn, long-ago born–as the miracle it truly is.

I wonder if it’s even possible to embrace the sacredness of the life of a child without first understanding how miraculous their very existence is in the first place.

On that note, what should we name her?

Photo 510

Choosing A Small Living Space

When considering housing options, one of the most common concerns among parents is space: physical space, square footage, acreage. For this reason alone, urban living is almost immediately crossed off the list of options. To move to the city may require sharing a building with neighbors, sharing bedrooms with siblings, or limiting outdoor space for play.

molinecourtMoline Court, Northside. photo credit

As the mother of a growing family, I understand this concern and I’m sympathetic. Our home has plenty of square footage for our family, but the space is not arranged very well. Currently, we only use two of our available bedrooms as sleeping spaces, which means that my two children share a room and Baby #3 (due in September) will bunk with us (as the other two have for their first few months) and then eventually with her brother and sister.

Three kids in one room.
In 21st Century middle-class America, that is simply absurd.

As our family grows, we get more and more questions about what we’re going to do with that new baby once she’s born. Reconfiguring our home to use 3 or more bedrooms will require a large financial investment and a lot of work (and time). For now, it’s not on the agenda. I like our current situation. And, apart from the logistics of different sleeping habits and bedtimes, it doesn’t bother me at all to have a bunch of young children sleeping in the same room. (Now, when they’re teenagers, this might be a bit trickier…)

Contrary to the popular belief of my peers, it’s not impossible for a large family to live comfortably in the city. It simply requires sacrifice, creativity, and wisdom about the best way to use a limited amount of space. Most urban families–those who live in the city by choice, not necessity–have reconciled their sacrifice of space for the sake of other benefits of life in the city. And, with a clever use of space (alongside purging unnecessary stuff and using good organizational skills), I think living in small space could actually be easier than a large sprawling home. (Imagine how much easier it would be to clean a house half the size!)

On a related note, I came across this article in Apartment Therapy last night. This woman only has two children, which is not really a large family, but she offers a good perspective on why choosing a smaller space is often not really a sacrifice, but is actually a good thing for family life.

What about you?
Have you considered down-sizing to a smaller space for the sake of a different way of life?
Do you already feel squeezed too tight?
Have you already given-up on small spaces?
For those living in small spaces, what lifestyle (and organizational) changes have you made to make it easier for living?

For some related stories (with great photos!) check out these other recent Apartment Therapy posts:

Emily’s Nursery Nook in the Bedroom
Something For Everyone
(a shared room for three boys)
Jack, Finn & Rowan’s “Undone” Room (another shared room)
Before & After: Closet Turned Nursery
A Small Space Nursery Triumph in Manhattan

And for general encouragement that small-space living can actually be great, check out these links:

Small House Bliss
Honey, I Shrunk The House
Tiny House Swoon

Mama McEwan’s 10 Essential Rules of Parenting

I’ve only been at this parenting thing for 4+ years so I’m no expert, but I have learned a few things along the way. And, in honor of Mother’s Day, I want to share my (current) 10 guiding rules of parenting.

Take them or leave them.

1. Be their parent, not their friend. When they are 16, you can tell them about your first real date. When they are 21, you can buy them a beer. When they’re 25 and getting married, you can kid with them about how your husband never learned to boil pasta. And then when they’re having their first child, you can finally reveal some embarrassing family secrets. But, for now, they are not your friends; they are your children and it is your job to parent them. It is up to you to teach them how to interact with every other authority figure they will have–teachers, friends’ parents, bosses. If they do not learn to take instruction from you, you are setting them up for a world of hurt when they have to learn to take instruction from people who don’t care nearly as much for them. Your children are not your peers and they are not competent to make decisions about what is best for them. Yes, your 4 year-old can help you decide between spaghetti and meatloaf for dinner, but he may not decide whether or not he eats said spaghetti or meatloaf. That is your decision. Make it for him.

2. Go ahead and indoctrinate them. Don’t buy the lie that children should “decide for themselves” what they believe about God and the universe and the difference between right and wrong. Even if you never have those conversations with your children, they will learn something from you and, when they are young, what they learn from you will be the only thing they have to guide them. So, go ahead and be bold in the way you define it for them. Don’t be afraid to give them something to believe in. Sure, you might not have all the answers or they might rebel or they might decide, at 18, that you were wrong. But that all comes later and that will happen, regardless. Unless you want them to approach their adolescence believing that they can simply feel their way through big decisions in life, you’d better decide now what philosophy they’ll need to guide them. Give your children a foundation and don’t apologize for it.

3. Teach them social skills beyond their years. Teach your children to do “adult things” like shake hands, say “excuse me,” carry on a conversation, and look another person in the eye. They should know how to approach strangers to ask a question. They should know how to ask for directions or pay for their own snack or ask for a napkin. These skills don’t happen magically–they are learned. Teach them early and you’ll enjoy a much more pleasant experience in public with your children.

4. Expose them to diversity. Create a life for your children in which they are regularly exposed to things they wouldn’t normally see in your own home. Let them rub shoulders with all sorts of people and places. Feed them foreign food. Fumble through books in foreign languages. Make it normal to know people who eat those foods and speak those languages. The same goes for people who look or act or believe differently. You are their parent and it’s up to you to help them interpret and understand those differences. But, the differences should not be a novelty to them.

5. Let nothing be taboo. Instill in your children, from the very start, an open door policy. Answer your child’s questions with age-appropriateness, but honesty. Don’t make up fake “kid words” for sex or anatomy or other difficult issues. You don’t have to give a complete philosophy or science or sex ed lesson every time an issue comes up, but don’t shoot down an honest question. Answer simply when they’re young (they’ll be happy with simple answers) and then your answers will get more complex as they grow and mature. This includes questions about culture, death, sex, disabilities, alcohol, etc.

6. Turn off the television. Seriously. Turn it off. Especially when your children are young, let tv, phone, and computer use be a treat, not a staple of family entertainment. Cancel cable and buy some more books.

7. Model proper behavior and attitude. Do you want a child who respects others? Who speaks kindly? Who shares generously? Who controls her emotional responses? Then you’d better model that behavior for her in the way you interact with your spouse, your parents, strangers, and her. BTW, this includes the way you speak about people–not just to them. Good luck trying to rid your preteen daughter of her snotty attitude if you let her get away with it when she was five, especially if you speak to her father the same way.

8. Say more than, “I love you.” Say it more than you think you need to, more than they probably need to hear. Tell your children you enjoy them, you appreciate them, you are proud of them. Tell them you noticed when they followed instructions or did something great for their sister. Tell your daughter she’s beautiful, but don’t praise her too much for physical things or she’ll think it’s her job to remain beautiful to you. Tell your son how happy you are for him when he wins the big game, but remind him that you’d love him even if he had lost. Teach them about both unconditional love and love that makes them better by encouraging them when you notice them growing and changing.

9. Never take too much credit or too much blame for your children. I can’t remember who shared these wise words with me, but it was sound advice. If your kids are simply fabulous and someone praises you for making them so fabulous, be thankful and gracious but don’t take all the credit. The second you start to take all the credit for having a great kid, he’s sure to sucker punch a stranger. And, if your kid is more the type who sucker punches strangers, be apologetic and tackle the issue at home, but don’t kill yourself over it. In the end, children make their own decisions about whether or not they’ll take your advice and instruction. Some kids respond better than others to consequences. To a certain extent, you can only do what you can do. Your children will always be your responsibility, but they aren’t really your fault.

10. Let them play. This might seem obvious, but I think it’s important to note how important it is that children be allowed to direct their own play. Encourage creativity and exploration, even if it gets “dangerous” sometimes. Take your kids outside and let them go off the path–alone. Let them make up their own games. Allow them to use boxes, sticks, straws, and rocks for things other than what they were intended for. Give them space to be kids. Watch over them when they’re young, but don’t feel the need to play with them. They probably don’t need you. If they want you, they’ll ask.

Paring my “Essential Rules” down to only 10 was no small task. I’ve left out an awful lot.

What would you add?