Postpartum Journey

Trevor came home from the church with these in hand. “Fall Pick Me Up” they’re called. He had a fall candle for me, too. 4.5 months postpartum with our 2nd baby, this is what I needed today. It took me 5 months after Gideon before I began to feel like myself again. I was sad over nothing and everything and I wasn’t sure why.

With Asher, I understand it deeper, the postpartum journey. I expected the sadness and I knew it would last longer than the 2 weeks the nurse told me I should expect. I knew boundaries over my new baby were healthy and I didn’t feel guilty this time for not showing up to everything when I was just too tired. I didn’t feel guilty when everyone wanted to hold my baby but instead I held him close. I’m a more confident mama this time around, but postpartum emotions are still real. They are still here. They last longer than 2 weeks. But it seems like after those first few weeks we are expected to be back to our normal selves. The self before 40 plus weeks of pregnancy and hours of (sometimes traumatizing) labor. The self before we gained pregnancy weight and now or bellies are a little bit more softer than they used to be.

A few months after Asher, a man from church asked me how I was doing, how postpartum has been. Because he remembered there was a sadness after baby. & he cared. I was caught off guard that he had been the only one (besides my DR & husband) to ask me about it. But I was thankful. Because it reminded me that it’s normal to feel sad in the midst of such joy. And today was one of those days. But Asher kept looking at me with a really big smile through my tears and Trevor reminded me, God knew we needed our Asher in this season. So full of joy. And a reminder that Father is with us. And that is what his name means. Asher, happy/blessed. Emmanuel, God with us.

So if you know a woman who just had a baby a week a month or a year(s) ago, ask her how she is. Bring her a meal. Send her a gift, a card, a reminder that she’s doing well. A reminder that she’s seen in the midst of what feels like an unseen season. If you know her real well, offer to babysit. And if she says no thanks, just keep showing up. Sit with her a while, and just keep showing up.

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whatever you’ve been praying for

I haven’t been to this space in over a year. The last time I was here we were living at my moms and we were pressing into our next step. Trusting God for us has always been a free fall. I’m usually the one to question that first step, but my husband takes the leap with no fear. So much has changed in a year.

It’s been one year since we moved from home. Where I’ve lived my whole life. Where I know everything. It’s still home to me, and I never thought we’d leave. But we trust Him more. We believe Him more. And we are enjoying where we are at. And honestly, we have been so spoiled in this season. I watch my husband and I could never say enough good things about him. The way he is a husband, the way he fathers, the way he handles it all. The way I would like to crawl back into myself at times, and the way he calls me out and speaks life back into me. He is so good. He is learning. I am learning. We are growing.

I sat with a friend last night and she told me about how God provided for their family in a huge way. God told her what their next step would be, and she trusted the impossible. And she saw it come to life. She trusted that He would show up, and He did, the way He always does when we have that kind of faith.

I stood in church this morning. We dropped our oldest off in the 2 year room and I held our baby during worship. My heart pressed in, heavy with all of these promises it seemed like He may have forgotten. And I know they aren’t forgotten. I know there is growth in the days that are leading up to the promise. These days are the promise. And I hold our baby, he falls asleep as the songs are sung. And she sings these words,

The Cross has the final word

She repeats it and it’s like an anthem in me. I remember years ago when I truly believed I would never be a mom. I can remember declaring that over myself in my hopelessness. Because I believed the enemy and what he had spoken over me. What he’s never let me forget. I remember sitting with our pastor in tears over the lie, that I wanted to be a mom but I would never be one. And I would think back to my first baby, and the enemy would remind me that I threw my chance away. But he is a liar, and he sees our purpose, so he tries to distort what’s true.

And she sings these words on a Sunday in September and I look at one of those promises in my arms. He’s fighting sleep as I rock him back and forth, as that anthem stirs inside of me and reminds me that it’s finished. That the enemy is finished. That we are healed and we are covered in His mercy, bathed in His grace. That someone can make the ultimate regret, and then gift His daughter with 2 babies, entrust her with 2 sweet boys, because of the cross. Because of His great love. I’ll never understand it, but I love being completely overwhelmed with Father’s love.

Whatever promise you’re holding onto, whatever you’re waiting on, I promise He hasn’t forgotten. And when the enemy tells you that He’s failed you just remember what’s true–

The cross has the final word