Tonight Charlie and I created a well-devised bedtime plan. Diaper, pjs, sleep sack, check, check, check. If you keep the pacifier in, I'll change him, you zip the sac, keep the lights low, I'll sit in the chair, we can go straight into nursing...I pulled Judah out of the Moby and carefully laid him on the changing table. Our plan went off without a hitch. In fact, our stealthy, efficient movements in the dim light slowed as we realized our little boy was groggy, he wasn't about to lose it, his eyes sleepily stayed half-closed, his pacifier wasn't falling out. We stepped back for a moment and watched him fall asleep on the changing table, and we looked at each other in amazement. Maybe... I won't nurse him? Should we just... put him in his crib? The pacifier, for one of the first times in his life, stayed securely in his mouth as he sucked. Charlie lifted him carefully off the changing pad and set him in his crib. We tiptoed out of the room, and I wondered at what just happened.
Tears started to well up once we got back to our bedroom. I asked Charlie if Judah still needed me. He said yes, he was probably dreaming about his mom as we spoke :) Not likely the case, but it made me feel better.
Things have been hard with Judah. Objectively hard, subjectively really hard. He rarely falls asleep unless he's nursing or taking an ounce or two from a bottle, and during the daytime he's needed to be Moby-ed as well. Nighttime routines have lasted upwards of two hours, a seemingly endless cycle of nursing him, giving him a bottle, carefully laying him down, only to wait for his cry five or ten minutes later and returning to start the whole thing over again. I have never known such frustration and despair as I've experienced during these evenings. Jarica said it's sanctifying. I didn't see any progress in my heart so it seemed unlikely :) I know, I know...
At some point during one of these cycles I got so upset at Judah and asked Charlie why we ended up with a special needs kid. At that exact moment, as he once again began to encourage me, and gently but firmly remind that I was talking about our little boy, it became exceedingly clear to me that maybe it wasn't that we had a special needs son, it's that Charlie had a special needs wife. I told him this, and I think he agreed.
But here we are, five long months since our little guy made his big debut. It's hard to believe this season is passing; I truly thought it never would. I am down from four Moby naps a day to maybe one or two. What?! The past couple days Judah has fallen asleep in his stroller, while normally he'll only sleep when he's wrapped up with me. They all said, "This too shall pass," and I said, "If it's not passed by tomorrow I'm done." But the tomorrows have come and gone, and they were right.
I feel like one of Satan's biggest ploys in my life during this baby season has been to convince me that things will be like this forever. He has tried to steal joy from this season by replacing it with despair. I sit here in bed, with Judah contentedly asleep on his own in the next room, with no nursing or rocking from me, and am stunned to realize that everyone was right. My little boy is really becoming a little boy. And as all the hard things of this season slip away, they take some really sweet things with them.
To be honest, it didn't often feel helpful in the moment to try to convince myself that someday I would look back on this time with fondness, but I am truly thankful for everyone who urged me to keep the shortness of this season in mind, and to savor every moment I could. The tears coming down my cheeks now, just a day or two into the next stage, are evidence that they were right all along. The strange thing about how God designed time is that no matter how slow it seems to creep, it only moves in one direction.
I know there are good things ahead. I mean, I am trying to convince myself that there are good things ahead! The truth feels so hard to believe sometimes, especially in this area. Discontentment has always been one of my greatest spiritual struggles. Greed for what will be but isn't yet, or what was but is no more.
So tonight feels bittersweet. I am deeply feeling the grief of something precious slipping away, sweet moments with Judah and a season of perseverance and struggle that's resulted in so much growth and dependence upon Jesus, alongside a sense of celebration. We've been through so much together already, and as I watch Judah turn this corner I feel so relieved, so hopeful, and already so nostalgic. My heart is full.
Thank you to everyone who has walked with me through this season, even just for a moment of prayer or encouragement. I am so grateful to all of you and really believe you are God's grace to me, his love note in a season that has so often felt hopeless and lonely. I have never been alone.
Praise God from whom all blessings flow.
No comments:
Post a Comment