The Day I Wanted To Quit..

Incredibly sweet and magical moments are happening in plenty over here; there is a big brother falling in love with a little brother, lights are strung on a tree and mugs have been filled with thick, creamy eggnog. We are smack dab in the middle of a winter wonderland, right in time for Christmas. Cheeks are rosy and the fire is crackling. It is, indeed, glorious and, for all intents and purposes, life doesn't get much better than this!
And yet...
I'm struggling.

Having two babes is HARD. The hardest thing I've ever attempted, actually. There is no guidebook or blog post that can fully prepare a girl for the changes and adjustments of 'life after child birth'. Thanks to Owen, I was 100% more prepared for this round of sleepless nights and happenings within my own body. However, round two is actually 'life after child birth all WHILE chasing a two year old'! And while words of wisdom, extra hands and frozen casseroles certainly lessen the blow, the learning curve still feels like a bucket of cold water dumped straight on my head!
I'm a mess. A ridiculous, hormonal mess. I float high on butterflies as I witness priceless moments, watching my boys bond, surrounded by exceptional family and community. And then I crash. Hard. Because it's Monday and everyone resumes life as normal and I'm supposed to somehow make 'normal' here on my own but it seems so ridiculously impossible.
It's just me and these two tiny, precious, frustrating human beings that I am fully responsible for. How am I qualified for this?! The two year old I had figured out and we've been buddies for what seems like a lifetime. And the newborn is, for the most part, very low maintenance and chill! But combine the two and we start resembling a gigantic train wreck. They wake up at the exact same time and desperately need me and I don't know which to go to first. They both want to be held, they both need food. One is mid diaper change when the other starts yelling from the bathroom that he needs HIS buns wiped! And that 'winter wonderland' is actually a crisp 12* that we can't usually venture out in, making us all stir crazy and somedays there are just.so.many.tears. How is anyone ever 'ready' for this?!

And I don't want to be depressing. I love my boys more than life and I am so thankful and we are undoubtedly BLESSED beyond measure.. and there will be plenty of posts for all that goodness. But right now I desperately need to be really real and talk about the really hard. Because I know that I'm not the only mama gasping for air here. Or maybe you're not a mom, but you are facing a brand new challenge and questioning whether or not you have what it takes. This can not just come naturally to everyone else but me. Right!? I sleep in 1-2 hr segments throughout the night and then try to face a new day with a brave face but it all comes crumbling down at some point between cream of wheat spilled all over the kitchen floor and the fifth load of laundry needing to be folded.
There are no days off. There is no calling in sick, even when the fever rages and the head ache pounds and 'mastitis' becomes a painfully real part of my vocabulary. We post the sweet pictures not the ones of the trashed house and the dark circles under bloodshot eyes. There are smiles and the expected, 'It's all so wonderful' comments and for the most part... yeah, it really is bliss..  but then we go home and in the dark of the night there is the occasional wondering... where do Mom's go to resign?! So I'm going to be brave and say it, if no one else will. Sometimes I want to quit. Sometimes I don't want to be the Mom. I want to run away for a day and go ice skating, drink hot chocolate and simply let someone else be in charge!

It was in this slightly depressed, pity-party state of mind that I dragged myself into Owen's room for bed time. We opened up to a gem of a story in Judges 7; it turned out to be a pep talk straight from God...
Our reluctant hero, Owen's current favorite, is Gideon. He is preparing to battle the Midianites. Now, these people had the nasty habit of swooping in from the eastern lands right before crops were going to be gathered; them and their friends and their infamous camels, and these Midianites would devour and trample and cart off all of the Israelite's harvest. Gideon has finally risen to the challenge and mustered up an army of 32,000 men. But we are told that these harvest wreckers from the East 'had settled in the valley, thick as locusts. Their camels could no more be counted than the sand on the seashore.' [Judges 7:12] Safe to say this was a sizeable threat.
Imagine Gideon's surprise when 'The Lord said to Gideon, "You have too many men. I cannot deliver Midian into their hands, or Israel would boast against me, 'My own strength has saved me.' " [Judges 7:2] So, albeit reluctantly, Gideon releases anyone who wants to go, anyone 'trembling with fear'.. a whopping 22,000 men! This leaves our leader with a sweaty brow and 10,000 battle-ready men.
But God's not done. Verse four has Him telling Gideon, "There are still too many men." And in a bizarre test of 'do you lap water like a dog or sip it like a proper gentleman?' the warriors are drastically reduced to a mere 300. Three hundred men to make a stand against an army as vast as the sand on the seashore!? And it is then that God says, 'Yes! You're ready!' From a military standpoint this was an absolute impossibility. Even if Gideon had been a tactical genius, which he wasn't, this was quite literally a suicide mission.

You know where this is going, though, don't you? Because God is involved. The God who operates through the weak to accomplish His grand purposes. The God who delights in coming through when we are at our lowest; Redeemer of situations that seem hopeless. Those 300 Israelites win the battle and they conquer those saboteurs! In a strange turn of events, this victory comes without the Israelite army ever even having to raise a finger! They ring the enemy camp, break clay jars and let light stream out into darkness. Then they watch the enemy destroy themselves in absolute chaos because God went to war for Israel, for Gideon. And He did it in ways no one expected.
Please read this story. It's incredible. [Judges 7] My take on it, though, darkened state of mind and all, was that all glory went to God for this victory because Gideon had been stripped of any and every thing that gave him a shred of confidence for winning this battle. By the time God was done with His weeding out process, Gideon was bringing nothing to the table. Nothing, that is, but a willingness to trust and obey. Acknowledging our fragility and the fact that we don't actually have what it takes, is the first step towards victory.
Paul knew this well. God had said to him, "My grace is sufficient for you, for power is perfected in weakness." And so Paul chose to boast about his weaknesses, 'so that the power of Christ [could] dwell in [him].' 2 Corinthians 12:9

So, I'm not bringing this message to you from the victor's circle. I still have much to learn. I am oh-so-weak and learning that it's okay to admit that. His power is being perfected in me; ongoing process. And this battle that I am in, the one where I must choose to fight for my boys, fight for my marriage, fight for joy amidst the mundane, yeah.. it's ongoing and it is for a lifetime.
The Enemy whispers in my ear that I do not have what it takes and, you know what, he's right. Me and myself.. we fall short every time. But if I simply choose to show up, I have a God who will fight for me. The days will be hard; hard that takes my breath away, hard that empties me of all I am, strips me of my armor and then sends me to the front lines. But it's in the hard that His power is made perfect! It's in the hard that He gets the glory because there is no way that I can pull this off on my own. And ultimately, I'm not the one who will do the fighting; God will go to battle for me.
And so I sing these lyrics by Matt Maher,

'Lord, I need You, oh, I need You

Every hour I need You

My one defense, my righteousness

Oh God, how I need You'

And I'm encouraged by what Ann Voskamp said, 'Ultimately, what seems like futile work that's taking an eternity today - is exactly what may make the most difference in eternity.' Because all this that seems like nothing, the endless diapers and the 'No, you can't climb your bookshelf like a monkey!!' and the rocking and chasing and loving and spanking.. it matters. My mother-in-law told me that it actually matters MOST of all. And so yes, there was a day when I wanted to quit (and more are bound to follow) but I won't! Because this role, this job, this being a mother thing... ready or not.. it shapes society and it changes lives and it effects eternity. And so I will show up. I am like those clay jars in all their fragility. Because it's only as the jars were broken that the light was able to shine out into darkness around the Midianite camp. And this journey breaks me down but I will let the light shine through all my cracks and then I will watch, in awe, as God fights on my behalf.
'But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us.' 2 Corinthians 4:7

Story for the Books!

We're calling it a story for the books... your birth story, that is. It really is fitting that your entrance into our world be grand and exceptional. Fitting because your time spent in the womb was very simple and uncomplicated. In the midst of life and multiple jobs, chasing your brother and moving our family across the ocean, your womb journey wasn't always front and center in my mind. That's not to say you weren't anxiously awaited, sweet son. But carrying you within me was blessedly 'easy' and did not require much out of the ordinary.
That's why I say it's fitting that you entered our lives with flare; fitting that the tale of our wild ride be told time and time again, my boy. You will leave your mark on this world, your journey will be remarkable and you will do things in a way that is unexpected. And it all begins with this story, this one that is truly 'for the books'......

The early morning hours of November 21 found me analyzing the repeated tightening of my belly and questioning whether or not I should let Derek head to work that morning. Once I got up and started moving around, however, I quickly realized that yes, this was the real deal and no, Derek could not go to work! In spite of feeling perfectly normal in between contractions, we didn't wait around too long. Owen's Nana came over 'for a party!' and Derek and I hit the road.
We had an hour and a half to drive which seemed completely reasonable when I originally chose that hospital. With contractions coming every 2-3 minutes, though.. I was starting to re-think that game plan. In between contractions I was reading different articles to Derek on 'how to deliver a baby in the car'. We were joking about it all and at the very same time we both knew it was a legitimate possibility.

By the time we reached the mountain pass, my contractions were one minute apart and lasting for a full minute. Derek kept me breathing through each one and let me squeeze all the blood out of his right hand, all while keeping his left hand firmly planted on the steering wheel as he discovered the maximum speed of his truck! I would have been an absolute train wreck if not for the calm of my husband and the comforting presence of Jesus which was unmistakable in that truck.
As we entered the city, but still had another 30 minutes to the hospital, I knew we weren't going to make it. I was ready to push that baby out! Derek reviewed the plan with me; first step was telling him when I couldn't wait a second longer so he could pull the truck over. (As I type this, I am once again blown away by my husband and thanking Jesus for equipping him with the strength and level headed-ness to make me feel safe throughout the entire journey!) Thankfully, Derek's mom happened to mention, 'If he's coming too fast, there's always the hospital on Nevada.' Even though we did not know the exact location of this hospital, we exited off the interstate as soon as Nevada became an option. Derek asked his phone to call that hospital but was connected to an ER in Reno, Nevada! Needless to say, Siri was officially fired after that, but at last we saw that sweet, blue 'H' sign!

Within five minutes of reaching the Emergency room and being wheeled into a curtained off area with a cot, our son entered the world. We literally made it without a minute to spare. It was chaos in that room; people everywhere, bright lights and noises and scrambling around. Apparently, they don't deliver babies in there on a regular basis! I asked the ER Dr. if I could push and he turned the question around on me, 'Umm... well, can you?!' (I'm willing to bet this will be a story in his book, too!) I had been praying all the way down the mountain and then it was show time; I was ready and our little man was born. All the chaos faded when they handed him to me. Just like that, I was hopelessly in love.
I can't tell you how nervous I had been about that part. I know, I know... the love for your other children doesn't decrease upon arrival of another. But I couldn't fathom how or why that was actually possible. I couldn't, that is, until this little man was in my arms; at that moment my heart could fully grasp this remarkable truth. Derek says my face took on a glow; a look that he had not seen throughout the pregnancy, a knowing that I could (and already did!) love this little boy with 100% of me. This discovery of new love felt like fireworks in my chest, it was wide open spaces and the freedom to embrace it all!

Daniel Wayne Pearl arrived at 8:00 A.M on the dot. He weighed 7.11 pounds and was 20 inches long. We didn't know those numbers right away, though, because they didn't have an infant scale in the ER. The room continued to swarm with nurses, doctors, paramedics and students all bustling around. The nurse that cut the umbilical cord accidentally cut the Dr. as well, adding to the excitement! Then I mentioned that, out of all the different levels of pain I had experienced that morning, my arm was killing me. Their investigation revealed a tourniquet that had not been removed after they put my IV in! Did I mention the chaos in that room? I was floating, though. My baby boy had arrived; he was healthy and sweet and snuggled against me, I had my husband's hand in mine and I was perfectly content. (At least until I mentioned that it might be time to deliver the placenta... 'Oh yes! I think you're right!' was the response.)

When it was clear that they couldn't do much more for us, Daniel and I were loaded into an ambulance and transported to the hospital we were originally headed for. Derek followed closely behind and we were met by a group of nurses and staff anxiously awaiting 'the story'. Apparently, we were the talk of TWO hospitals that morning. What a whirlwind. What an entrance our little man made. I love that his birth brought JOY and the hope of a new life to the ER, a place so familiar with tragedy, pain and sadness.
In the quiet after all the scrambling, Derek said I was still glowing; I'd just fallen in love again! And to top it all off, there was french toast on the room service menu! Owen came with his Nana and Papa after a few hours and finally met this long awaited 'Baby Brudder'. After the initial meet and greet, he was more interested in the remote control for my hospital bed. But Owen is warming up to the idea of having Danny stick around and he is well on his way to being an excellent big brother! I can only imagine all the stories I will add to my collection because of these two little men I have the privilege of calling my sons. Our family doesn't tend to do things in the normal way; this birth story is a perfect fit for our repertoire!
All glory to God for the safe birth of our precious son, for going before us (literally, as we flew down that mountain pass) and for His faithfulness in our lives. He makes all our stories worth telling; He is the orchestrator of all the details and we are nothing without Him!

The steadfast love of the LORD never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. Lamentations 3:22-23

The LORD is my rock, my fortress, and my savior; my God is my rock, in whom I find protection. He is my shield, the power that saves me, and my place of safety. Psalm 18:2

God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble. Psalm 46:1