Written by a New Mother

Originally published in this space on January 1, 2007, and written when I was brand-new to this whole parenting adventure. It’s something I like to revisit from time to time.

On the day your first child is born, you will find out something that you didn’t realize up until then: the person you married is a good person. In fact, the person you married is such a good person that you wanted to have children with them (and you did, in fact, have a child together). You find out, with the birth of your first child, that you are capable of together changing the world, and the change you bring about is another human being.

On the day your first child is born, you will look at your spouse and you see a new person, one who has never before existed: a parent. In this new person, there is a stamina that cannot be matched, a stamina that will allow them to get up all night long to feed and soothe a crying baby and still go to work the next day. This stamina will give them the grace to lug approximately fifty pounds of stuff in one trip, dance through puzzling car seat straps that would have a beginner in tears, and appreciate another person’s smile more than was previously possible.

On the day your first child is born, you will hold in your arms someone who never was, who never will be again, and who would not be if not for you. You will look at your spouse, and you will realize that the two of you hold a future in your control. Your child, small and helpless, is the most important adventure you will travel together, and it is the most lasting impact you will make in the world.

On the day your first child is born, you will realize that love is not a feeling, is not a decision, is not a one-word fill-in-the-blank kind of thing at all. You will know love in a way you could not have imagined, and you will almost burst when you see your spouse gazing down at this new little person. You will know heartbreak in that instant when you know love, because the love must break your heart, for it is too big to be held there.

On the day your first child is born, my love, you will know how we looked at you, and how we still look at each other.

Image source

The Big Wait, by Ginny Moyer

I’ve been a fan of Ginny Moyer‘s for as long as I’ve known her (I interviewed a while back, if you’re interested). Her wonderful book, Mary and Me, is one that I recommend wholeheartedly, and her blog is no less delightful (full of little boy stories, musings on Mary, and Catholic goodies to boot!). I’m deeply appreciative of the wisdom she shares today, so close to the end of our Advent journey. Thanks, Ginny, for stopping over!

“Don’t worry, Ginny.  The right guy is out there.  You’ll meet him when you least expect it.” I heard this thousands of times between the ages of 18 and 28, from supportive friends and family.  (“Oh, and you should try meeting men at church events,” my mother would always add.)  In spite of such encouragement, it was hard to keep the faith during an entire decade of trouble-plagued relationships and bland blind dates.

If I knew I would find a soul-mate eventually, I thought, I could stand this. If only I knew that there would be a Mr. Darcy at the end of this long journey, then I could stomach the wait. Not knowing was the most brutal part.

And then I met my husband Scott. (We met at a church picnic, no less, proving that Mom Is Always Right.) Forget Mr. Darcy: I had found Mr. Moyer.

Fast-forward a few years. Scott and I were eager to have a family, but my first pregnancy was an ectopic, when the baby implants itself in the fallopian tube instead of the uterus.  The emotional pain was hard to describe, even for a writer like me. But we tried again, hoping that I wouldn’t be one of the 30% of women who have a second ectopic.

Pregnancy #2 looked great: at six weeks we saw a beautiful little embryo in my uterus. Four weeks later, though, an ultrasound showed that the baby had no heartbeat.

I felt like I’d been drop-kicked by God.  The pain of the loss was awful in and of itself, and it was intensified by my deep, tenacious doubts about our future fertility.  What were the chances we’d be able to have a child at all?  If I knew that I would be a mom eventually, I scribbled in my journal, then all of this would be a little easier to bear.  It’s the not knowing that is so hard.

Four years later, in the Advent season of 2010, my two sweet little boys nap in their rooms as I write this.

Sometimes, it’s downright brutal to wait. It takes a lot of fortitude to be patient when the outcome is far from certain. But that’s one of the great things about Advent: it comes with a guarantee that we rarely get in other areas of life. I don’t have to sit here as the days roll on, wondering if and when Jesus will show up, become man, and enter into the messy brokenness of our lives. I don’t have to wonder whether that wonderful goodness will ever cross my life’s path.

Because it will. Actually, it already has. And in a life that is full of anxious waiting, waiting that is marked by fear and fragile attempts at faith, it is a blessing to wait with such confidence. I can breathe easily. I can enjoy the process. I can be eager, not anxious.

And maybe I can pick up some skills that will help with my next big wait, whatever it is.

image by holly henry

Advent from Dad’s Seat, by Jeff Hite

Jeff Hite is the father of nine wonderful children, ranging in age from 13 to probably-born-yesterday (how cool is THAT?!). He and his wife teach Natural Family Planning for the Couple to Couple League and help with their parish marriage preparation program. You’ll find him through Flying Island Press, a small press he and a few friends founded this year.  He also keeps busy as a writer and occasional blogger. You’ll also find him on Twitter (as I did). My thanks to him for sharing his perspective as a dad on this season of Advent! And HUGE congratulations to him and his family for the birth of their newest member…(I just saw a “woohoo” on Twitter, so hopefully there’s more to come!)

I am the father of a rather large family and, while I go by many titles, my favorite one is “Dad.” It is usually shouted at ear-piercing levels when I come through the door at night, so I think I must be doing something right. I take the job pretty seriously and I do my best to help around the house, and help with home schooling the kids.  But beyond all of that, the one job I take most seriously is the head of household.  This means more than just being the bread winner or king of the castle.

It means that I am the one that shows the family the religion we practice. More than going to church on the weekends, more than just making sure we say grace before meals, I want our kids to see the love I feel for God, and understand why.

During this time of year, it can very easy to get caught up in the hype that passes for Christmas, or on the other side of things in the ”you’re doing it all wrong” crowd.   We get so distracted by jingles and bells that sometimes we forget that before the Christmas season there is another season and it is equally important.

Like Lent, Advent is a season of preparedness, about getting our hearts ready for that great gift.  So, as a father, how do I help my kids understand that?

First, I can’t take all the credit for this. My wife is a wonderful woman, and she usually comes up with 99% of the good ideas, things that we can do with the kids, things that should teach them.  What do I do?  Other than just being there, I try my best to be supportive, and I get involved in as much of it as I can.

Real dads are not afraid of candle wax, glue and scissors, though papers cuts can be pretty nasty.   In my book the number one teaching tool for kids is finding some way to make it fun. This can be difficult, but there are ways to make it fun.

This year we are using a Jesse tree during Advent. We have done this it the past and it is always a lot of fun and I always end up learning right along with the kids. I am a cradle Catholic, and, if you were like me you like me when we were going up, you were afraid of reading the Bible.  The basic idea of the Jesse Tree is to give you a brief overview of the Bible from creation to the birth of Christ, with a focus on Jesus’ family tree starting with King David.  You can find some great ideas at Illuminated Ink and Holy Heroes(Christine Johnson also did a fabulous guest post on the Jesse Tree right here!) Projects from either or both of the resources have the kids doing a nightly project to understand and prepare for the birth of Christ and decorate the tree.  The one we are using this year has a story to read every night, a short video to watch (about 5 minutes.) and, of course, arts and crafts, the really fun part.

Learning about the saints is always a big thing in our house. We try to pick saints that the kids can relate to.  An easy saint to include this time of year is St Nicholas.  He is not the jolly old elf that comes on December 25. His feast day comes at the beginning of the month, December 6, and he is a great saint to learn about.  He is, after all, he the patron saint of children. If you celebrate his feast day the way they do in his home country there is chocolate involved.  My “Dad’s job” here, beyond helping with the teaching, is to buy the candy and hide it in my car until the night of the fifth. A traditional St. Nicholas celebration, beyond learning about his life and struggles, has the children leaving their shoes out on the night of December 5.  On the morning of the sixth, St. Nicholas has left them chocolate or switches, or a combination of the two, depending on what they deserve.

The Advent wreath is another great way to get the kids involved. This year we made our own candles.  We bought an inexpensive bees wax kit and rolled them with the kids (no hot wax, and very little mess involved). The kit we used also came with prayers for each night or week when lighting the candles, but you can find Advent blessings pretty much anywhere on the Internet. We usually do this at dinner time, just before saying grace. Our kids can often be heard to say, “Yours is melting faster than mine,” as they gently critique each other’s candle-rolling technique.  This is a very simple project that they get to see being used through out the month, that helps the kids feel a sense of “look what I did.”

As this is a preparation season, we also do some things that are sometimes harder to do, but that we still find worth it.  We try to find time to pray the rosary, or at least a few decades a few times a week.  Believe it or not, this is not hard to do with kids, especially if you get them involved.  Divide it up, give the kids a decade or part of the decade.  As they get older, ask
them to tell you what each of the decades is about.  We try to make it to reconciliation at least once.  And if we can fit it in, we try to make it to at least one Exposition of the Blessed Sacrament.  This one can be hard to do with little kids, and hard to explain why you are doing it. But don’t give up!

As a dad I really enjoy this time of year. Watching my kids get excited with the anticipation for what is to come and helping them to understand this season on preparation makes the whole thing that much more enjoyable for me.

image source

Shower, Interrupted

Sometimes, you just have to accept the way the day is coming at you. Sometimes, you have to smile through the frustration. Sometimes, you’ll find that the small act of smiling actually changes your attitude.

There have been quite a few things on my mind, weighing me down in small ways that have been adding up to something large. It’s been a bit of a burden, one I didn’t even know I was carrying until my shower was interrupted by a small cacophony of voices and barks.

There was no emergency, not really, but my shower — which usually lasts less than ten minutes anyway — was irreparably interrupted.

It’s interesting how that happens in life, isn’t it? You set out, starting down one path, certain you know where you’re going and how it’s probably going to turn out. Then, without warning, you’re…interrupted. You try to get back on course, but it’s just not quite the same. You’re in a different groove.

It made me think of some of the things that have been really bothering me lately. Have I really turned them over to God? Have I really let go, or have I been just complaining and holding them close, letting them fester and grow into a heavier load?

Maybe it’s the fact that I’m very pregnant. Maybe it’s that ongoing battle with depression (yes, I’m still fighting it, though I’ve been silent about it for a while). Maybe it’s just where I’m at in my life, period.

I realized, during that interrupted shower, that it doesn’t matter. Though I’m hard-wired to seek the answer why and to find solutions, that’s really the wrong approach for this hurdle. Rather, I need to embrace the interruption, smile through the frustration, and accept the changed attitude that can happen from that one little act.

image source

The Mary Factor

Part of the Mary Moment Monday series

Father’s Day was over a week ago, but it’s still very much on my mind. Maybe it’s because the piece I penned about seeing Mary in my husband is up today at Faith & Family Live.

Though my husband maintains that Mother’s Day is my day, I think he’s wrong. I think I get as much — or more — fun out of watching him on Father’s Day. This year, the girls crawled all over him and the five-year-old triumphantly handed him decorated packages. Both of them “helped” him open them and then they “helped” him eat the candy inside too. (What dad doesn’t need chocolate for Father’s Day?)

So many times, I fail to appreciate many of the quieter attributes of my husband. He’s not the kind of guy to stand up and demand attention. He is just as happy sitting in silence as he is holding a conversation, and many times, I’ll admit, I choose the book in my hand over the man at my side.

In his example, I’ve learned about the importance of silence, and I’ve also seen him walk the talk as far as thinking before speaking. I don’t think an ill-considered word ever leaves his mouth. When he’s angry, he seems to have some sort of safety valve over his mouth (I’ve been trying to install one on my mouth for years).

From him, I’ve seen gentleness in action. I’ve seen the source of his gentleness too, rooted in his faith and his confidence in God’s will.

So, really, it was long overdue, this acknowledgment of how I see Mary in my husband.

Is it a love letter? Is it a bit of my romantic side coming through? Is it a glimpse at the man I love? Yes, it is. And I’m honored to be able to share it with you, because it’s also a tribute to my Heavenly Mother. Hope you enjoy it.

Super-Sized Laughs

I’d love to quote you a pithy passage from Rachel Balducci‘s delightful new book, How Do You Tuck in a Superhero? And Other Delightful Mysteries of Raising Boys, but I’m afraid I can’t.

The day after I finished it, I lent it to our parish secretary, instructing her to pass it along to someone else in the parish office. I’m not sure who has it now, though I do know the second person started laughing as she raved about it to me.

I’m betting that’s a common response. I don’t have sons, but I have a husband (who totally didn’t “get” why I was quoting aloud and laughing uproariously so much during his basketball playoffs) and I have nephews and I have men in my life.

And this book explains SO MUCH.

Well…maybe I’m not being fair. What Balducci does, and does the way she does everything else, from her personal blog to her work at Faith & Family Live, is to use humor to bring us to our senses about a few things.

Having a bunch of kids isn’t an impossible scenario. It can be, from what I’ve gathered, a fun thing. And joy can be found all around you, in the bugs you eat (or, ahem, don’t) and the company you keep.

Balducci takes her reader deep into the world she lives in (which as of April has a little girl in it), and we find ourselves home, in the best sense of the word. Here’s a family that seems like just the crew you’d invite over for a cookout and a rip-roarin, laughing good time.

To call this book delightful is to do it a vast disservice, though that’s the first word that came to mind when I put it down, disappointed to see it end. It is a tribute to family life, to pursuing the dream God gives you, and laughing all the way.

Guest Post: Time Flies, by Maria Johnson

Maria Johnson is known all over the SQPN airwaves for her love of Farmville, her terrific asides on the weekend, and her passion for both digging out the hidden meanings in Harry Potter and finding the relevance of Star Trek, but what has endeared her to me (besides her hilarious tweets) is her blog, which is just exactly the extra cup of coffee I need, whenever I happen to read it.

The three Johnson "kids," "baby" on the bottom

My baby will graduate in a couple of weeks and leave me wondering about where the time went. It was just yesterday that his big sisters were fussing over the new baby. Now the baby looms over all of us.

Many of my “parent” friends, those good people who over the years have become friendly acquaintances, even partners in crime while hauling our children from school activity, to church activity, back to school activity, all have the same dazed look on their faces.

It’s a combination of pride, joy, longing, and fear.

The parents sending their first-borns to college have a little more fear, a little more insecurity about them, but the veterans graduating the last child to leave the nest, like me, are doing somersaults and talking excitedly about rediscovering themselves and going on adventures.

My husband and I always claimed we’d get an RV, sell the house, and leave no forwarding address.

It’s a ruse, of course.

After a lifetime of shielding my children from the realities of life, it’s not easy to flip a switch and suddenly be comfortable with being a mere bystander. The urge to control, protect, and orchestrate is still strong in this Mama Bear.

I remember that when they were small I lived my life in timelines, always looking forward to moving into the next phase because the current phase was overwhelming. It was always, “I can’t wait til they walk,” or “I can’t wait til they are potty-trained.”

It was always the next thing that was somehow going to be less work, less stress, and if you can believe it, I actually thought that the next phase would bring peace.

The joke was on me. Those early years were certainly physical work, having to keep up with energetic little people, but they weren’t emotionally hard. Oh, no.

Whatever was I thinking when I believed that a teenager with a driver’s license would bring me any kind of peace?

That was the beginning of the end. At that point I would have traded their teen-aged angst for any of the number of boo-boos I was once magically able to heal with a Scooby-doo bandaid and a kiss. Heartaches and big-sized failures were more difficult to handle.

Now I find myself a lot older, and a little wiser, and I know that whatever awaits them in the world is in their hands (and God’s). I am certainly wise enough to know that my maternal worries are probably going to begin in earnest now. Are they living in a safe place? Are they happy at work? Are their friends good people? That’s just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to worrying about my newly adult children.

Fears for their safety and well-being aside, I also have a lifetime of aspirations that I’ve built up for them. I want them to be happy in their careers, in their relationships, in their interests, and hobbies, and financial security. I want them to have everything I think they deserve.

I want them to have a sense of balance in their lives, so they don’t become materialistic or driven by the wrong set of values.

I want them to be content.

And above all, I want them to maintain the faith that they’ve been brought up with…and know that any material success can vanish overnight, but that the real wealth of love, and family, and above all God, are priceless.

I want them to live every day as if their salvation depends on it. Because it does.

And then I will finally put aside my worries and consider my job complete.

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...