How does a mother explain that the baby that was in her tummy is out, and here she is, and she is staying here forever now? How does she express her love hasn't changed, it has simply grown? Can he see the struggle in her heart, wanting to attend to his needs and wishes while tending to the newborn, torn between teaching him to grow and wrapping him a protective embrace of childhood? Will he remember the precious moments of just her and him the way she does? Change is just hard, even if it is good, it is hard.
He loves his baby sister. He coos over her, talking in hushed tones. He holds her tiny hand while she sleeps in her swing. In the car there are minute to minute reports on her well being, "Baby Jewel is crying, Mom. Does she have a little tummy ache? It's OK, Baby Jewel, we'll be home soon. Oh no, Mom! Baby Jewel has sunshine on her eyes. She's looking at me! Baby Jewel is sleeping, Mom? Does she like Psalty? Look at me, Jewel. I can tell her a joke, Mom. She will laugh at me." He doesn't waste any opportunity to examine her, delighted and relieved when her weird extension came off her belly button. He wonders where she is when he can't see her.
And yet, there have been the potty accidents. Yes, many of them. One wet night after another. Sleep deprived parents changing sheets while a confused little boy stands by and watches. How can they tell him that they understand? Where is the line between needing the comfort and needing the consistency? Why does God require these kinds of parental judgments to be made when a mother and father are already over extended? How can they make a plan, pray for him together, and focus on the issue when the work schedule is so full and the nights are so short? Is this what he will remember instead, the struggle and the battle? So much is required of this little mind.
God be gracious with us.
Be gracious with this transition for our Silas. Lead us graciously and gently as we navigate this road for the first time. Forgive us for our short sightedness. Cover us all with your love.
One morning I was able to take my precious boy out for a special date. We needed some "get back together" time. Jewel stayed with Grammy, and we took off on the Max train for a get-a-way. Each moment was special. To him perhaps it was just routine. After all we did go to the toy store and play with the train set that we play with all the time. We did sit in the reading corner and read all the books we have read before. We did walk down the street and ride on the train that have all been visited before. To me it was breathtaking. Yes, breathtaking. A few uninterrupted moments to watch him be so big, to laugh at his little antics and phrases, and to spoil him in attention. He has had a lot of special dates with Everett, Beppe, Daddy, Grammy and Pops, but just this one with me. I want to some how make up for the nights that he has cried when I can't lay with him until he falls asleep. I wish there was a way to count, minute for minute, and repay the delayed response to a request for milk and a snack. Somehow I am battling guilt for the moments when he says, "hug me, Mom. Snuggle me." I want to just overflow his little love tank. There is even a piece of me thinking that this special date will be the solution to the wet beds. It's only been two weeks and I am already missing "us" like we used to be. So, I captured a few shots, just glimpses into our world. But this date was one I will always remember.
A little treat to remember our date.
Yes Silas, your dad does rock...maybe that is where you got your rockin' style ;)
Showing off our watches.
Playing in the fountain, I didn't have dry clothes but this wasn't a trip about practicality.
This is also not about practicality...more about fun, and probably about some kind of rare disease.
Mom and Silas
On our way...too cool for words.
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