Minismith

We were crazy tired, worn out from sickness and sleepless nights…

…but then she smiled.

And we quickly remembered just how worth it this whole parenting gig is.

What an honor and gift it is to raise these little souls.

We made it to 4 weeks. A huge accomplishment, in my book.

We’re still trying to figure out sleep and gas and how to help our little girl adjust to life outside my cozy belly. But thankfully, the worst of the depression & anxiety for me has gone and I’m able to actually enjoy this season of newbornhood again. Now if we could just get her to stop screaming like a banshee in the car seat, I might actually be able to get out of the house one of these days and feel like a normal member of society again :)

But the sun is now shining after a week of dreary rain, so I can’t complain. Being housebound has been good for a go-go-goer like myself. Learning to rest and slow down again has been good for my soul.

Our boys have been troopers through all this transitioning. It was a rough weekend with Lucy’s sleep, so Matthew and I were tag-teaming rocking a panicky baby and attempting to engage with our boys. Brighton has been the Super-Brother, getting snacks & drinks for Levi, taking him to the bathroom (because he’s scared of fish in the toilet), giving him hugs and pep talks when he’s sad about something (which is usually every 15 minutes these days), and being okay with his little brother clinging to him like a security blanket right now. After attempting to peel Levi out of Brighton’s bed at night, we ended up just shoving the two twin beds together. Which still isn’t good enough for Levi, whom we find curled up next to Brighton most mornings. We’re thankfully for Brighton’s tender heart right now, helping his out-of-sorts brother navigate these new waters of welcoming a baby.

Just some shots of our past two weeks. Lots of adjusting for everyone, but Jesus is faithfully navigating us through the wild waters.

Levi narrowly avoided a trip to the ER the other night after a slip in the tub resulted in a busted eyelid. The poor guy is having a pretty rough time adjusting to being misplaced as the baby of the family. He’s finding great comfort in his big brother, which is pretty sweet to see. Even though he’s been shunning me lately, he’s getting his fill of hugs and cuddles from B…as well as forced ones from me that he doesn’t necessarily want, but I’m not letting him have that option :)

Lucy had a great weekend of rest during the daytime hours, which we all desperately needed as a family. Just some time to feel “normal” as a family. We’re just hoping her evening gassiness and rough patches begins clears up over the course of the next few weeks. Thankfully, my meds have started to kick in and I’ve had many more hope-filled, encouraging days over the past week. Thank you all so much for your encouraging words and many prayers. 

Little Lucia Eloise Smith joined our family at 3:40pm on Monday, August 28th. Weighing in at 7lb 8oz and 20in long, she was absolutely perfect. After a relatively quick and easy birth, we were suddenly staring at our new, beautiful daughter. We fell hard and fast for that little dark-haired bundle.

We loved that Lucy’s name meant “light”, as that’s what she is to our family after these past years of much loss. She is our little gift of light from Jesus and we believe that’s what she’ll be to many others in her life, beyond just our family.

Her middle name, Eloise, is a combination of both my maternal great-grandmother and grandmother’s names. The first, who was Elsie Louise, and the second, Louise Elsie. When we found out the meaning of Eloise was “famous warrior”, that seemed fitting as well. Our little famous warrior of light. Just like Lucy, in the Chronicles of Narnia, we believe our little girl will be a tender, strong warrior in the kingdom.

I realize that this post is long overdue. With almost two weeks past since her arrival, it’s been a bit of a unique whirlwind here at our house. As with all newborn arrivals, the house is turned upside down quite a bit, which we were expecting. What we were not expecting was the degree and intensity to which serious post-partum depression and anxiety would hit me with within a day after Lucy’s arrival.

You would think by baby #3 you’d have it all figured out and know what to expect. But the first night I woke up with a severe anxiety attack, the first one I’d ever experienced in my life, I knew this was not going to be the same road to recovery after a newborn that I’d walked two times previous.

It has been an uphill climb the past two weeks, but we are slowly starting to see some hope, thanks to the amazing support of Matthew, the incredible help of my family, an amazing post-partum doula, and the help of my doctor.

As Jesus leads our family through this difficult season, we would love any prayers you would be willing to offer up on our behalf.

- for complete healing, mentally & emotionally, for myself

- for deep, anxiety-free sleep at nights to promote that healing

- for energy, strength and hope for Matthew as he carries our family – me, the boys, Lucy – through this season in the midst of a heavy work load. He has Lucy from 9-2am (usually even later) every night the doula is not here and has had many rough nights of trying to get her calmed to sleep for hours. Pray in the nights for mercy and grace for him…and sleep for Lucy!

- for energy and strength for my mom & dad as they support & help us after just moving to Greenville to start a church plant. A lot on their plates as well.

Thank you all for your love, prayers, and encouragement as we walk through this season. As everyone keeps reminding me, it is just a season. Jesus is faithful and will “gently lead those that have young” (Is.40:11).

For those of you who’ve experienced mental illness, it can be a brute beast, and sometimes you just need everyone to believe and speak the truth to you over and over when it doesn’t seem true in your own weak mind.

A song I’m clinging to these days by Rita Springer, I Have To Believe:

I have to believe
That He sees my darkness
I have to believe
He knows my pain
I have to lift up
My hands to worship
Worship His name

I have to declare
That He is my refuge
I have to deny
That I am alone
I have to lift up
My eyes to the mountain
It’s where my help comes from

He said that He’s forever faithful
He said that He’s forever true
He said that He can move mountains
If He can move mountains
He can move my mountain
He can move your mountain, too

Oh, I have to stand tall
When the wind blows me over
I have to stand strong
When I’m weak and afraid
I have to grab hold
Ahold of the garments
The garments of praise

Cause He said that He’s forever faithful
And He said that He’s forever true
He said that He can move mountains
If He can move mountains
He can move my mountain
He can move your mountain, too

I have to sing praise
When the hour is midnight
He unlocks these chains
That bind up my soul
My sin and my shame
He has forgiven and made me whole

I have to believe
He’s got everything under control
I have to believe
Lord, I believe
Help my unbelief
I have to believe in You.

With how things have gone this time around…I’m assuming, no. But I can still hope :)

This was the night I went into labor with both of the boys. Both were due on a Sunday. Both started their arrival in the wee hours of the night on the previous Saturday, 8 days before their supposed ETA. Both were Sunday babies.

So Baby Girl, just in case you were wondering, we cannot wait to meet you and call you our own. The first ever minismithette. Our little warrior of light. (hint, hint ;)

No baby girl yet. So what’s a bored, anxious mama to do while she waits? Why, bake buttery, gooey treats, of course! Thanks to a late night perusal through pinterest last night, these caught my eye and were promptly whipped up in my kitchen by noon today. Add a little sea salt to the top and they are deliciously deadly. And just what this mentally exhausted pregnant gal needs.

I kept hearing it said that the third pregnancy can be a bit unpredictable, but up until a few weeks ago, I would have disagreed. With an easy-peasy 8 months, I arrived at these last 4 weeks with a “I-Got-This-Whole-Pregnancy-Thing-In-The-Bag” attitude. Ha.

This pregnancy has definitely thrown us for a loop here at the end. Both the boys births were pretty textbook…labor pains started, got worse, and eventually led to a beautiful little bambino. With this little girl, it’s been two weeks and counting of intense, predictable contractions lasting for hours…that eventually just go away. For those of you who’ve never been pregnant, I can’t even begin to explain how confusing and mentally maddening this can be. You start to doubt your body. You wonder why ‘Ol Faithful, who has popped out two gorgeous, healthy little guys, is being so finicky here with baby number three. If you’re a eccentric and off – like I can tend to be – you even begin to wonder if you’re just stuck being pregnant indefinitely and it was all some cruel joke that there is actual a baby in there who might some day grace you with her presence.

Every pregnancy is different and I know every pregnant gal goes through their own crazies towards the end, but I’ve definitely felt physically and mentally stretched more than I had with either of the boys in these last countdown days.

Levi told me the other day he was afraid she might be growing into a mommy in my belly because she’s been in there so long. Trust me, I’ve wondered that myself. We are all attempting to patiently wait. Eating our weight in buttery, toffee goodness is helping a just little bit.

…the newest member of the minismith clan. A lively, healthy baby GIRL!!!

We are still in shock. And giddy with excitement. As the technician announced the news, I was surprised by the warm tears that filled my eyes. It just felt too sweet. Like a gift too big. After all the pain and loss over the past year, Jesus was choosing to give us a healthy baby and the amazing gift of a daughter.

As we drove to our appointment, I couldn’t help but think about the baby we lost a little over a year ago. And though we won’t ever know for sure, a daughter we had named Mirabelle. Then I thought of Maisy. The daughter we had spent months preparing for and falling in love with. Suddenly gone a week before we were to meet her. And now, here sits our daughter. Growing, kicking, preparing to join our family in 5 short months.

He really does love us that much. He longs to lavish us. The falleness of this world fights against His love something fierce and until we head Home, we won’t know it to the fullest extent. But there are days like these, when the ferocity of His love breaks through and I am overwhelmed.

Already a feisty little one. Laughing as she kicks her mom, which she’s been loving to do lately. Here we go into Girl Territory!

Schooling…the latest topic on the round table of the Smith family. An issue we’ve lightly mused about and tossed around our grand ideas as the boys have been transitioning from babes to toddler to…well, now soon-to-be official school age children. I think we’re finding ourselves a little caught off guard by how quickly our tiny little baby Brighton has shot into a tooth-losing, book-obsessed, socializing almost-6-year-old. When did this happen?!

Last year we chose to put the boys in a great preschool down the road from our house to give me a bit of a breather. It had been a wildly intense past two years. And last summer, we realized I needed some recoup time. That time was simply God-ordained. Even though we faced even more twists in our journey this past school year – restarting the adoption process, being matched with our little girl, losing her in December, finding out a new minismith was on it’s way a few short weeks afterwards, and all the emotional footwork that entailed – during that time I feel like Jesus was helping me finally, finally take baby steps towards becoming a women of rest. Which does not mean crafting some sort of stress-free life avoiding chaos and the inevitable ups and downs, but rather learning to live out of a spirit of rest.

So back to schooling. We’re not sure what that’s going to mean for our family. After getting to know the personalities and learning styles of our boys better and seeing how much they learn through, well, just being boys – jumping, fighting, discovering, playing – things not typicallly encouraged in a school setting, started leaning towards homeschooling. And had hopes of starting this fall, with our newly adopted baby being at least 9 months old and with a mama a little less sleep-deprived. Then the pregnancy came and out of sheer emotional disorientation, we applied for another year at the boys school.

But recently that’s gone back on the table for discussion. For a whole host of reasons, that would be (and may be at some point) another blog post entirely. But for now, we are praying and seeking and waiting. As thick-headed as we’ve been in the past, we believe Jesus is slowly changing us and helping us realize He is ultimately the leader of this family. And has great things in store for us. Including how, when and where the boys are schooled…knowing full well that there is never any perfect answer or perfect way in this life. I’m not sure how much of the process I’ll share, as I know it’s a heated topic for everyone, but my disclaimer is that we’re just hoping and praying to do the best for our boys and the individuals that they are.

The biggest piece for me is to keep remembering that the only “best thing” for our boys ever in this life is simply what Jesus is leading us and them through. Not a method or a rule or a certain way of doing things. As a parent, it’s all too easy to confuse the two. And as Matthew and I have been learning ourselves these past few years, unfortunately “best” usually doesn’t involve the easy, safe route, which we so desperately want for our kids (and ourselves) at times. Instead it usually involves lots of bumps and bruises and going one way only to turn around and go the next. There are no absolutes, other than that He’s with us.

We’d love your prayers over the coming months as we wait and see where we’re led. And seek wisdom from our close friends who know our sanity levels well while ALSO believing in a big God to give more than we can ask or imagine when it comes to grace, patience, and energy levels.

As for the newest minismith brewing, tomorrow is our 18 week ultrasound. So cast your votes now, another minismithster or a minismithette?

I obviously don’t have time to do much of my own writing these days as much as I would love to. And even less time to be on the internet reading other people’s thoughts, as enjoyable as that pastime used to be. But there are a few people I can’t afford to miss out on. People I don’t personally know all that well, but whose hearts resonate with mine. To be honest, I rarely read linked-to blog posts myself, but these two are worth it.

The first, from Sarah at Every Bitter Thing is Sweet, on why we have to learn to adore in the face of daily life attempting to convince us we’re nothing but victims.

And the last, from Marisol of the Zoe Foundation, a fire-under-your-rear call to the church on why we’re all dragging our feet or defaulting to “someone else with more energy/money/patience/mothering skills” to open our homes to the fatherless.

Both are well worth the 15 minutes it would take you to read them.

As for the Smith clan, we’re plugging along. The baby is starting to make his/her presence know with sweet little kicks at 15 weeks. Our ultrasound is schedule for April 5th…minismith or minismithette, to be determined.

Brighton lost his first tooth today…or rather I popped it out for him. What a brave little man…and mama. Blood and popping sounds give me the heebie-jeebies.

Levi is recovering from yet another ear infection. And this mama is wading through some sort of virus. But we’re all alive and kickin’, anxiously awaiting the warmth of spring…the first signs of green in our new raised bed, the hydrangeas and peonies to start blooming, and the weary cover to be rolled back to reveal a sparklingly blue pool again. The weekend ahead promises 80 degrees, so we’re slowly beginning to believe spring is really here to stay.

My once-tiny, first-born Brighton is most definitely not a baby anymore. Upon turning five, it seems a completely new world – full of things he needs to learn about – has opened up. Some times it’s hard as a mom knowing what to share now and what to put on the shelf for another time. But there are those moments when you’re caught off guard without a chance to sort through now versus later. And you quickly find yourself floundering through explanations you wish you hadn’t started in the first place.

The perfect opportunity? Bedtime. When Mom is thoroughly exhausted from the day and inquisitive little boys will find any way they can to sidetrack the lights being turned out and bedtime officially beginning.

As a little preface, Brighton has this preschool science book with a section on “Where Babies Come From”. It’s extremely basic and elementary. At one point it has a cartoon picture of a mom and a dad holding hands. It says that to make a baby, you need a mom and a dad. Going on to simply state that the dad has sperm and the mom has an egg. Even though that is all it says, for some reason, Brighton has come up with on his own that that means when any guy or girl hugs or kisses, the guy gives his sperm to the girl. We’ve been trying to nip that misconception in the bud for obvious social reason. “Augh, Mommy! Don’t hug that man!” We’ve tried very simply explaining that it doesn’t work that way, and that at a later point, we will explain more than he’ll want to know about it all.

With that back story, here’s how our going to bed conversation went last night as I was tucking in my sweet, little, innocent 5 year old….

B: “Mom, wear is our baby going to come out of? Is it going to come out of your belly button?”
A: “No B, it comes out somewhere else.”
B: “Where?”
A: “Just a different place.”
B: “Well it HAS to come out a hole since it isn’t strong enough to rip open your skin. What hole is it going to come out of?”
A: “Well, Mommy’s have a special hole just for babies to come out of.”
B: “Where is it?”
A: “Buddy, we’re not going to talk about that right now. It’s a private place.”
B: “Oooh, near your bum-bum? Are you going to poop the baby out!?!”
A: “NO Brighton, it’s a different hole.”

(a moment of silence and obvious musing going on in his little mind)

B: “So mama, when I give you a hug or a kiss, do I give you MY sperm?”
A: (cringing) “Noooo buddy. Only a papa can give sperm to a mama AFTER their married.”
B: “So when I’m a Papa, I’ll give a mama my sperm?”
A: “Yeh I guess.” (SOB!)
B: “How do the sperm get to the mama. Does it just fly through the air?”
A: (OH MY GOSH, are we REALLY having this conversation?!?) “No buddy, we’ll talk about that another time. It doesn’t fly through the air. The papa puts it in the mama, but we’ll talk about that when you’re older.”
B: “Does he put it in her mouth to eat?”

At this point, I am DYING. Trying to somehow stop blushing and simultaneously not to burst out laughing.

A: “No, she does not eat it (giggle). But that’s all we’re talking about tonight. Papa will tell you more when you get older.”

He was SO not happy with that response, but I was SO not giving him the sex talk at the ripe age of 5.5.

I know every mom says it, but here I am…dumbfounded by the reality that my two little guys are growing and changing so much. Just in a few short years, they go from being so tiny and boring to being wild, silly, interesting little people. Time really does fly.