for the sleep-deprived mother

For the past six and a half years, since I very first became a mother, it seems that issues related to sleep have consumed our household.

A tiny fraction of my sleepless nights have been due to my own sleep issues related to pregnancy and weird nursing hormones and the odd night filled with anxiety here and there. A tiny fraction, mind you, belongs to adults in the house.

The vast majority of the sleep issues are entirely the fault of one or more children who live under this roof. The child who decides that sleep is simply not something he feels like doing at midnight, or 3am, or some number of horrid hours in between. The child who feels that crying for insane amounts of time is preferable. The child who incorrectly assumes that throwing an angry fit will give me some compassion and allow her to stay awake. Or perhaps the child who finds that coming into my bed to talk to me and poke me all night and play with my hair is a much more entertaining option.

Besides creating a general state of exhaustion, it creates a persona of self-doubt. A sentiment perpetuated by other mothers who love to talk about how well their own child is sleeping.  As if getting a baby to sleep through the night by 6-weeks, or 12-weeks, or even 20-weeks-old has somehow granted them a pass into the Excellent Mother Club.

What am I doing wrong? And why is it that other people's children are the same ones who sleep through the night AND take long 4 hour naps every afternoon? Isn't there some kind of sleep fairness rule that says if the child (and mother) doesn't get enough sleep at night that he should make up for it during the day?

Let me tell you that I have read a LOT of books on getting children to sleep and I have tried a lot of different methods. I have even gone to such desperate measures as climbing into my child's crib to get him to go back to sleep. You might think that is part of the problem, and you might be right. But when everything else has been tried to no avail then climbing into the crib actually seems like a great option. I will spare you the trial, however, because it doesn't work either.

Whether the problem is middle of the night wakings, or dreadfully short naps, or a child who loves dawn patrol, my children have never been great sleepers. In issues related to parenting, I have probably cried out to God more times asking for sleep than I have for anything else. Lord please let the baby sleep for more than 45 minutes this time! I don't think I will make it through my day if I don't get some rest!

He rarely answers the way I want Him to.

In one of my sleep-desperate days, I stumbled upon Psalm 127 which says:

In vain you rise early and stay up late, toiling for food to eat - 

for the Lord grants sleep to those He loves. 
Psalm 127:2

To whom will He grant sleep? 
To those He loves. Me. You. Sleep-deprived mothers everywhere. Especially the ones who have been awake at odd hours of the night caring for the precious children that have been entrusted to them.

He will grant sleep to the mother who spent the majority of the night rocking a sick baby. The mother who held her daughter's hair back while she vomited over and over again until the virus passed. The mother who can't bear to let her child "cry-it-out". The mother who is so consumed with love for her child that she must arise to check on him. The mother who returns throughout the night to quell a cough, or a fever, or a simple lonely cry. The mother who knows she is the earthly caretaker of this little love and puts his needs above her own.

The Lord grants sleep to those He loves. When I cry out to God for the gift of sleep, He often answers me not with more hours of rest, but with more ounces of strength.

I have learned that God made women incredibly capable. Somehow all of that laboring children into the world and spending months of sleepless nights with newborns only makes us stronger. As we lean on Him, we are stronger still.

In that, comes the knowledge that He will always give us the strength to do what He asks us to do.

He asked me to raise three children who have some kind of terrible sleeping gene. In turn, He gives me the strength to do it.

The strength is given one tiny miracle at a time. Sometimes the miracle is in the minutes of sleep. Sometimes it is in the husband who says "Go take a nap while I watch them." Sometimes the miracle is a show on television.

I will always feel that this psalm was written specifically for the generations of mothers plagued by sleep issues. The next verse says it all:

In vain you rise early and stay up late, toiling for food to eat -
for the Lord grants sleep to those He loves.

Children are a heritage from the Lord, 

offspring a reward from Him.

Psalm 127:2,3

Besides being an ever-present source of enervation, children are a heritage, a reward, a gift.  In sleeplessness, we are challenged to depend more upon God for our strength.  All of the ways that we grow to be a little more Christ-like end up being part of the reward.

Take heart, exhausted friend! You are not alone in this journey. The Lord knows exactly what you need to make it through today. Indeed, He grants sleep to those He loves.

little boys

People often ask me if it is different having a little boy in the house after having two girls.  Until recently my answer was mostly "no".  He was born with a surprisingly deep growl for a voice, a decidedly male trait, but outside of that there are basic personality differences between all children and it was hard to pin down which parts were specifically different because of the male component.

Now that he is well into his first year, those differences have begun to present themselves. I find myself awed at some of his stereotypical behavior, and awed at the way that God designed a boy to be uniquely different from the start of life. Some particular items of interest:

Item 1:  He never stops moving. Never. Even tired, he rolls, thrashes, and wiggles in his crib until the moment he crashes into deep sleep.

Item 2:  He is an explorer by nature. We had some pet doggy visitors over Thanksgiving and when they entered our house they had to sniff and investigate every corner and cranny before they could rest or relax. My little son behaves much the same. Anything new in the environment cannot be ignored but must be explored.

Item 3:  He likes to pick up big things and throw them. Giant pillows, his riding train, backpacks full of toys, clothes. Sometimes I even find him trying to pick up me.

Item 4:  He has a fetish for long hair. Especially my hair. In third grade there was a little boy named Frank who stood behind me in the lunch line. Everyday he pulled on and played with my braids or pony tail, and irritated me immensely. I could not understand why he wanted to touch my hair all the time. The Bible says that a woman's long hair is her glory (1 Cor 11:15). Historically, men have loved the long hair of women. I never knew how innate this trait was. If Karsten had his way, my hair would be his comfort blanket and his binky replacement. It seems to always be in his hands or in his mouth. Karsten will be the irritating boy in the lunch line to some little girl one day, I am sure of it.

Item 5:  He is an eater. The way to his heart is through his stomach. He will like you if you feed him and is adept at stealing food from abandoned plates around the house. After Thanksgiving dinner he crawled up to the table and finished off his sister's meal. This is not an uncommon sight now that he can climb chairs.

Item 6:  He is a snuggler. So much more so than my girls. This little boy learns by touch and loves by touch. His hugs are the best, with strength and recognition and jubilation in them.

Item 7:  He is a breath-holder. A breath-holder, as in does not stop to breath when he gets mad but just keeps pushing air out until the scream turns silent, until the lips turn purple, until finally one breath and one loud shriek before the eyes roll back and the child passes out. Usually in my arms, as I am attempting to protect him from injury during the fit. The most it has happened is 4 times in one day, so that's okay, right? The doctor says he will grow out of it when he learns enough language to communicate his frustrations. Yep, I am looking forward to that stage. (This item is not gender specific, but I wanted to throw it in there because it says something about his personality.)

Item 8:  He is a climber. Oh my. I thought perhaps my children didn't have the climbing gene and I might make it through child-rearing without this difficult trait. Never allow yourself to dare to think something like that for it will surely be proved wrong. At one week shy of 14 months old Karsten was crying hard in the middle of the night. This is not particularly unusual and putting him to sleep again generally involves a search for the binky and a pat on the back. I was taking my time getting into his room at the other end of the house and he had stopped crying before I got out of bed, but some niggle in my head told me to go anyway. In my sleepy stupor I stumbled right over him sitting in the middle of the kitchen at 3am. Apparently he climbed out of his crib. My girls, who are 3 and 6, sometimes play in his crib to be silly and they still don't climb out of it.


Life is about to change. Again. There seems to be no "stasis" with small kids in the house, so what made me think I could get comfortable? Last week he began opening doors by standing on his tiptoes. Next week he will be fully walking. So much energy and determination in one little person.

I must admit that there was a point in my life that I had trouble connecting with little boys. It wasn't that I didn't like them, I just didn't understand them the way that I am learning to understand my own little guy. I thought little boys were wild because they were disobedient. I thought they had too much energy simply to be difficult. I didn't understand how their exploratory nature was a reflection of their curiosity and different interests. Exploration is a little boy's God-given learning style. It is a great wonder and privilege to have a little boy in our home, even if it means that the furniture is going to take an extra beating.

I thought some of these gender differences would be reasons I would not enjoy having a little boy in the house. Instead, these differences are reasons that make me love him even more. They are opening my eyes to the balance that God created when He made man and woman. And they are even giving me eyes to newly appreciate my husband, just an adult boy.

Life is busy, but I LOVE LITTLE BOYS!!  And little girls too, but that was already a given.

they grow up so fast

I know it sounds cliche, but I really can't believe my baby is already 6 months old!?!!

Six months marks the point half way through baby-hood. Sigh. Seriously, how did this happen?

Karsten has officially entered into my very favorite baby stage: the happy sitting stage. He is content sitting in one place as long as he is snacking on something like a ball of socks or a crinkly bag, and as long as he can see me. He smiles at anyone who gives him attention. He stares at me with eyes full of adoration. He is a simply delectable ball of chubbiness. What is not to love?

Up until a week ago, when I handed him a teething cracker as a form of entertainment and tried to shove some sweet potatoes in with a spoon, I have grown this chunky 17-pound baby up entirely through my body's own nourishment. No wonder I am always starving.

This third time around with a baby in the house I realize how much I have grown as a person over the past five and a half years, since I first entered the world of parenthood with little Annike. So tiny, and yet somehow she managed to occupy so much of my time. Every minute that had previously belonged to me was suddenly devoted to mundane and repetitive things like changing diapers and sheets and doing laundry and making ridiculous facial expressions for entertainment. I couldn't go anywhere without consulting my infant's schedule and every errand included a helpless child on my hip.

Life felt so slow when I first made that transition into staying home full time with my baby. How many times did some well-intentioned older person tell me to "treasure up each moment because it goes by so fast"? I wanted to punch them in the face. That season felt anything but fast to me. I was physically exhausted from jumping into a baby's rhythm of waking all night long. I was mentally exhausted from processing all that had changed in my life. Someone had ripped the rug out from underneath all I understood about myself, forcing me to redefine my entire identity.

I remember that season so clearly. Yet, here I sit now with three of these little buggers. Life must be so much harder now than it was then... but I am not struggling in nearly the same way. There are more piles of laundry to do and diapers to change and overall chaos in the house than ever before. Instead, life is going by quickly. So quickly. Too quickly. Those well-intentioned people were right.

This third time around I am treasuring up each moment I can catch. In a different way, I understand that this does not last forever, and may not even last through tomorrow. Sometimes that is a very good thing. Sometimes it is woefully sad.

I keep thinking about how sure I was to bottle train my first baby right away because the thought of never being able to leave her for an entire year of breastfeeding put the fear of bottle-training in me. This third baby has not even seen a bottle, because, well, I don't have time to mess with extra things like that. And, reality tells me there isn't anywhere I can leave him because even my husband doesn't want to watch three kids yet. Mostly, I haven't given him a bottle because I know this year already feels so short. Plus, if I get to go some somewhere with only one child, it is almost like being on vacation anyway. Boy have things changed.

The thing that has changed the most over these past years is not the number of children I have or the diminishing number of minutes I have to myself or the average number of decibels in my home. It is my attitude. This chubby cheeky child with his two chinny-chins is growing up too fast. I don't want a lack of perspective to make me miss it.

dedication

It is hard to picture this chubby baby brother as anything other than a pudgy blob of cuteness that breaks into a grin whenever I look at him. The extreme example of innocence.

But one day he will be an energetic little boy, and then he will be a man.

We stood in front of our church body this morning, as a family, and committed to raise our little son up to know and love Jesus, to the best of our ability. We dedicated this precious little soul to the Lord, annointing him with oil. (You can see the girls loved being on stage)

Annointing and dedication are ways of separating something, or setting something apart for a special purpose. We want to make it publically known that we have set this baby boy apart to be holy, so that God's special purpose for his life can be fulfilled. We know he will one day have the choice to exercise his freewill, but in the meantime we will do our best to lead him down the path of Truth.

As a parent raising two daughters I feel the great call to protect them and to instill the values of purity and gentleness. I have been surprised how different it is to think about raising up a boy to know and follow Christ. To raise a boy, we need to teach him to BE the protector... a man who is a leader that makes wise decisions for both himself and others... and a man who has humility. Leadership and humility do not naturally go hand in hand. Only with the influence and example of Jesus Christ does it become possible to be a humble leader.

I have known so many godly women throughout my life, in all walks of life and all ages. But I have known so few godly men. So few men that I would want my daughters to consider marrying. I would venture to say that it seems much harder to raise up a godly man than it is to raise up a godly woman.

Without question it is something we cannot do alone. We are so grateful to be surrounded by special friends and family who love our children as their own, and who love the Lord God with all their hearts. It takes a village.

Karsten's outfit did not have the history of the dress that Sommer and Annike wore, but this day will be remembered all the same. Visit this link for those pictures.

Dedication Prayer for Karsten

May his mind have Your wisdom

May his eyes see Your glory

May his ears hear Your voice,

May his mouth tell Your truth,

May his heart be Your home,

May his hands do Your work,

May his feet follow wherever You lead,

May his knees bow only before You, his loving Lord and God.

quotable

I've gotta write this stuff down, lest the innocence of childhood is lost forever in the recesses of my forgetfulness.

Recent quotes about Karsten

Annike: (said in reference to the picture below)
"Awww... He looks like a little bee larvae!"
You know? I might not have put it that way, but I think you're right.

Annike: (said with the excitement of a 5-year-old who has just had a lightbulb go off in her head)
"I know! I can marry HIM when I grow up!"
Phew. Glad we got that one figured out.
I am sure she will change her mind in approximately 18 months when he is destroying everything she has ever worked hard to perfect.

Sommer: (said with the tenacity of a 2-year-old)
"No, Baby Karsten! Mine!"
Okay... we have a little work to do on this sister.

Note that Sommer is in the baby's bouncy seat. She is actually adjusting much better than we expected, but doesn't exactly play the part of the adoring sister yet.

helpless

Well, the verdict is out. Karsten is definitely my most mellow and content newborn. Thank you, Lord. I needed this.

Strange, but I think because he is mellow it took me a little longer to bond with this third baby. Don't get me wrong, I am now fully in love and completely attached to this squishy adorable face. I just think it might be harder to bond with a baby who sleeps all the time. Not complaining, just saying.

All of those hours spent rocking and comforting my other crying newborns actually served the purpose of attaching us to each other quickly, in that supernatural way that God intended for a mother to feel attached to her children. And it has got me thinking that maybe God intended babies to be fussy for just that reason. Something about a tiny helpless baby being in need bonds us as we swoop in to rescue them.

Life is like that too. We live through seasons that are especially hard, and we might feel especially needy. On the other side of that life experience, however, we can see how the season changed us in a permanent way. There was a bonding that took place, a deep spirit learning, an experiencial wisdom that was gained. Those needy times are the only ways to get a certain supernatural change to take place within us. In our need, we are given the gift of helplessness, being reliant on God to swoop in and rescue us.

Perhaps God intend for hard seasons to work just like that in our lives.

I am just thanking God daily that He decided this baby would not be a full test of my helplessness. And if God chose to give me a baby who knows how to sleep and sit contently, I am not going to question His good gift. I am sure we have plenty of other challenges ahead!

mine

Every day this precious little boy's appearance changes. Every day a new feature of his stands out to me, making him look like someone different. How can they grow so fast at this age?

The thing is, that they grow just as fast when they are older, we just forget to notice it because their appearance isn't changing quite as rapidly.

Here are a few comparison shots of my three kids at the same age.

The sleepy newborn shot:

Annike

Sommer

Karsten

The profile shot:

Annike

Sommer

Karsten

The newborn with eyes open shot:

Annike

Sommer

Karsten

Best shot around 3 weeks of age:

Annike

Sommer

Karsten

When I am old and looking at these pictures, I will be able to tell Karsten apart because he will be the only one wearing blue. Annike will be the one without any meat on her bones. And Sommer will be the darker, chunky one (which we adore about her). What I know for sure is that I won't be returning Karsten to the hospital any time soon because I know without a doubt that he is one of mine.

k's labor story

When I come home from a girls' night out Christian often asks me if the girls talked about A) our weddings, or B) our labor stories. The answer is usually yes to at least one of the above.

While I am certain that not everyone loves a labor story as much as I do, I also know there are plenty of others that are curious. In my opinion every labor story is worth telling because it is the story of how a precious life was brought into this world. Below is my story of laboring little Karsten into the world. His story deserves to be told, because it how his life outside the womb begins. I am writing it down as much for myself as for others, so if you aren't into labor stories, then I give you complete permission to skip this post!

It is strange how history can color our experiences. After the births of my two other children, it was hard to picture things progressing differently. With both of these other labors I woke up in the middle of the night and immediately went into hard, active labor. Annike was born 2.5 hours later; Sommer was born 1 hour and 15 minutes later. Neither experience included any early labor signs. Both were about as intense and fast as I could physically handle.

This history led to a little bit of anxiety (for Christian especially!) about how fast my 3rd labor was going to be, and whether or not we would make it to the hospital on time considering we live in a somewhat remote location 20 minutes away from the hospital and I am often home alone with the kids. Who would take me to the hospital if he wasn't home? While worrying over this, we enlisted a lot of prayer and had many conversations about plan A, B, C, DEF and G. In the end, Christian's relief about the "convenient timing" of this 3rd labor was just one of many proofs that God's was with us.

On Saturday morning, one day after my due date, we had nothing planned for obvious reasons. All morning long I was experiencing more low back pain than normal and feeling mild abdominal cramps. You might think these would be obvious signs of early labor. Yes, but I was 40 weeks pregnant and similar aches and cramps had been part of my daily existence for the previous three weeks or more. I read books to the kids. I highlighted my hair. I took a long shower. I should have picked up the house but I guess I was feeling slightly tired and unmotivated.

Around 10am, Christian came inside from working in the garden. When I told him about my growing discomfort, he thought we should play it on the safe side and decided to take me to the hospital just to get checked out. We left the house in a state of calm, found a good friend to take the girls for the morning, and called my parents to make their 45 minute drive up. On our way out the door, I was pretty convinced the hospital was going to send me home. I was wrong.

A few minutes before we pulled up to the birthing center, I felt my first real contraction. Oh! I was glad we had left when we did. They checked me in to the hospital around 10:45, hooked me up to the monitors, and told me my contractions were 3 minutes apart. Soon thereafter I began really breathing through them, while Christian sat by my bedside practically giddy with relief that we had timed it the way we did. I can still hear him saying, "I am so glad we are at the hospital!" and "I am so glad this isn't in the middle of the night!"

Things progressed as they should have, I suppose. But it all seemed sooo much slower to me than my other labors. It has occured to me that labor, and pain in general, is such a mental game. Mentally we have to be prepared by setting our minds to endure. For whatever reason, my mental game was not on this time around and I never really "relaxed" (as if that can truly happen) into the rhythm of my contractions. I kept asking the nurses what was taking so long?!?

Eventually they broke my water when I was dilated about 7-8cm. In my impatience to be finished with all of the extreme pain I tried to prematurely push the baby out, which just resulted in a lot of extra pushing. Little baby did not want to come out and it felt like he was stuck for all 25 minutes of the final stage of labor. When he finally made his grand exit, the pediatric team took him right away because there was some meconium in my amniotic fluid (meconium is that black sticky stuff that makes up the first bowel movement of a newborn and can be a problem if the infant ingests it.) Fortunately, the meconium proved not to be an issue.

I heard the baby cry within moments. With my eyes closed and my head laid back on the table in exhaustion, Christian exclaimed in utter surprise and excitement, "Oh my goodness! It's a BOY!"

What? What?!? A BOY?? I was pretty convinced I was having a third girl, though who knows what old wives tales and stereotypes were dictating that notion. BOY. Who knew?

A baby boy big beautiful surprise, born at 12:51pm. A healthy 7pounds and 15ounces, pushed out about 2 hours after arriving at the hospital.

I couldn't believe how looong it felt like I had been in labor. The labor team just laughed at my complaints and assured me that was pretty fast. But after 3 natural labors and deliveries with no pain medicine, epidural, or anything to take the edge off, I just might be curious to try that epidural next time. If there was going to be a next time, which there isn't. Unless God has something to say about it.

The process of laboring a child into this world is truly a miracle. I am in awe of the way that God designed women with the ability to endure so much pain at one time. Serious explosion of pain. I had unrealistic expectations that my third labor experience would be easy, would involve a lot less pain than the others, and would find me healed up more quickly. Not sure why I had those expectations. They only messed up my mental ability to persevere and focus through it all.

In the end, holding this little miracle makes it all worthwhile. Yes, that is mascara running down my face, probably trapped by a tear or two during labor.

Today Karsten is 12 short little days old, and so far seems to have the sweetest nature of all our newborns. I guess that makes him worth a little extra pain in delivery.