She may not be sleeping, but she’s definitely growing! Up from 7lb 4oz at birth, to 9lb 11oz at 6 weeks.

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. 

I Choose Love

I will love you, O Lord, my strength. Psalm 18:1**

I choose love, because, today, love is a choice for me. It doesn’t come naturally. In fact all of life’s inertia seems to be pushing me towards a calcified version of me. Inward-gazing looks appealing until its sting overwhelms my thinking and penetrates the heart level.

But You, God, offer another way. Love. Worship. Adoration.

The most unlikely time to look up is the perfect time. When confronted with loss, all that feels empty about me and about life, is when You offer Yourself as an exchange.

I choose love. I choose You. I choose the God who is always breathing life and hope and promise against the fumes of death that I’ve inadvertently inhaled in my person. You are the God of the yes when my life says no. You are always working a win when I feel crushed by my latest loss.

God of strength, I choose You as my strength.

Yes, I will love. Even now, knees weak and eyes searching for solution. I will love out of loss.

I will adore. I will call You what You are. Beauty, love, life. Drops of dew against my drought, the strength that one Word of Yours embodies is accessible to me when I worship. The most unlikely moments of despair are won to hope when I speak out about Your love and lift my arms up.

I love You, oh God my strength. I will love You, oh God my strength. I declare it to You, to me, to the enemy awaiting every opportunity to steal, kill and destroy beauty. You are Love and because of You in me, I can choose Love. I can choose active participation in the battle of my life.

And its there that I gain strength.

I love You, God of all that is strength inside of me. I worship You, God who is warring against all my weakness with all that You are. I adore you Father who overshadows my loss with Your gain.

Oh God, You offer a heavenly, holy way out: Your love.

So I declare back to me with my words before my body is even ready to walk it out: I will love. Because You made words to matter and my adoration allows activation of You in me and me wrapped inside of You. Strength.

“Glory, Glory, Hallelujah
HE REIGNS,
He reigns.

And all the powers of darkness
Tremble at what they’ve just heard
‘Cause all the powers of darkness
Can’t drown out a single word

When all God’s children sing out
Glory, Glory, Hallelujah
He reigns…”

At times I may feel defeated. I may feel like the darkness is winning. But the reality is that Jesus has already won. He HAS conquered sin and death and darkness. He IS the Mighty Warrior King. And while I still feel the effects of living in a broken, fallen world for now, I have the opportunity in every circumstance to declare the truth – HE reigns.

And while the powers of darkness can lie to me – tell me I’m alone, tell me I’ve been abandoned in my hard circumstances, tell me He’s not strong enough to save me – without having to feel it or even believe it, I can declare the TRUTH is that He reigns, not the lies. And they can’t take away those words or that reality. Which feels pretty dang good. The most powerful weapon I have in my arsenal right now. The declaration of truth. 

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.

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.

Plans of waking early for some alone time before the demands of the day begin. Plans of escaping to the gym for some endorphine-release. Plans of happy, healthy children enjoying our various outings. Every one of these “grand” (for a mother especially) hopes for my Friday was quickly tossed aside as the alarm failed to go off, a visit to the Charter office was more tedious and drawn-out than expected, a flat tire landed us at Firestone for two hours, and my boys continued to hack up a storm, run fevers, and bicker with each other constantly. Even the sweet relief of nap time was an epic fail.

A typical day in the life of a mom. But today, for some reason, the normalcy of interruptions feels unbearable. I am tired. Tired of my overly pregnant body. Tired of of the heat. Tired of full days of bickering kids. Tired of cleaning. Tired of cooking. Tired of laundry. Just plain tired.

I want escape. I want to go to Starbucks and drown my annoyance with the day in a Venti iced mocha. Or a new pair of shoes that I can’t afford from Piperlime. Or a stupid movie I can escape from life in for at least two hours. The immediate appeasement is a guarantee. And for a few moments I know I probably would find relief…of some sort. Yet also guaranteed is a soul that is still left aching and empty. Because sometimes life is just plain hard and there is no escape, bevergage, food, or masseuse that can replenish what’s been stolen by the fall.

In these famine-like days, I want to just grit my teeth and survive until I can fall into bed. And many days, that’s just what I do. But there is another option. Another promise I can claim. A guarantee I’ve been given to feast in the midst of what feels like a famine.

They feast on the abundance of your house;
you give them drink from your river of delights.
For with you is the fountain of life;
In your light we see light.

Psalm 36:8-9

Feasting on the abundance. When I think of the house of God, I think of a wildly, extravagant party. Where the love flowing around the Trinity is as overwhelming and uncontainable as a stormy ocean. Where that wild love for each other flows in abundance. Love that can be feasted on by their weary children. A river of delights that can refresh souls worn out by the battle of life, in a way that no other earthly thing could.

A fountain of life. I don’t know about you, but I have yet to find anything of this earth that fills these aches and voids in my soul for more than a passing moment. As sweet as marriage, mothering, and friendship can be they still have their cracks and painful qualities that remind us that we’re all living in a broken world as broken people. And with that unfulfillment, we hear this whisper that there is another way. A way for our souls to find actual rest. Tangible nourishment for our deprived souls. Peace in the midst of a day or month or years of chaos and disappointment. This does not mean plastering on a fake Pollyanna-esque Christian smile and robotically repeating, “God is good ALL the time!” to ourselves. Instead I think it means admitting the exhaustion of life. Recognizing our fallen state. Admitting we want cheap fixes…that aren’t always a bad thing! And in that weary state, looking to one place we can be refreshed deep down. In the Fountain of Life, the overflowing abundance of love that Christ has for us. That is unchanging, regardless of what our circumstances are screaming at us. In His light, we see light. I see cheap fixes for what they are…cheap. Bandaids over wounds too deep to be patched up by earthly things.

These past few days, I haven’t felt too intimate with Jesus. I haven’t wanted to wake up early or spend time with him. And yet these are the very best moments to soak in His love and enjoy Him for who He is. When feelings are gone and the thrill just isn’t there. These are the days training my soul to claim what is true, regardless of what I feel. That when I feel alone and defeated by the tiring routine of life, He is with me, He is a Mighty Warrior who saves, He is taking great delight in me and rejoicing over me with singing. (Zeph. 3:17) That in my weakness and failure to get a grip some days, He still declares me lovely. That he isn’t waiting for me to have an emotional response to him, he just wants me. And today that looks like a me who is cranky, irritable and feels like a pathetic excuse for a mom. Who is using every last bit of energy to crawl in his lap and flop my head on the shoulder of my Daddy. I may not experience a rush of emotional relief, but my soul finds rest. I’m reminded of the ocean of love accessible to me even in the pit of today. The soul-quenching waters of His fountain of life. A deep rest in being Loved by the One who fought for me before I was even born.

Starbucks still sounds pretty dang good right now, but as He comes this afternoon, an even deeper place in my soul is slowly been quenched. There are still 5 long hours left in this day, but for now I’m reminded again that don’t face them alone. And with that guarantee, my day has turned.