I thought I could find five minutes a few days ago.  No, I couldn’t.  But I’m making them today even though the baby is stirring and the bigger baby has a fever and there are clothes to fold and sticky floors and toilet tissue scattered all over my bathroom.

Just five minutes to write about being a proud mama.

And an embarrassed fatigued strung out on sleep deprivation mama.

Who made it to Honors Day anyway with baby Gus in the Bjorn and Amelia in the stroller.  Armed with snacks and suckers and books and the magna doodle.

I was proud.  Proud of myself for doing it by myself.  Until Amelia dumped all the goldfish out all over her stroller and on the gym floor.  Which is carpeted.  You can imagine the mess, I’m sure.

But I was still proud of my second baby girl with her music award and her sweet smiling kindergarten class and her dear teacher who will graduate her own baby next week.  Her baby who ran with me the first year I coached cross country.

What goes around.

We had to go home between ceremonies.  Back again for Madelynne’s.

This time Amelia choked on the sucker I gave her to keep her quiet.

Backfire.

Still proud.  Still tears springing to my eyes when she got the Art Award (her favorite class!) and a reading achievement award and Perfect Attendance.

In the craziness of this year, she was there everyday.

Yes, I was proud.

We have only one shower in our house.  Two bathrooms, but only the hall bath has a shower.  And if you go in and turn on the vent fan and run the shower with good water pressure, it’s like being inside a white noise fan and you can hide.

So I discovered the day I found out I was pregnant with Gus.  The day I went into hiding because I didn’t know how to handle the barrage of emotions.  I was worried the baby wouldn’t be okay.  I was worried the baby would be fine and how was I to handle four perfectly strong-willed children?  I was worried I would hurt him with all the negative I felt and I was worried I would never know how to feel about this baby.  I sat in the floor of the tub and cried harder than the shower spray.

And I went there and cried so many days of my pregnancy and last week when we brought him home all snug and safe and secure in our arms and our love, I stepped into that shower to hide and to cry.  Because with all the hormones and the labor and tears, I still didn’t know how to feel.

I love him so much.  I want him so much.  I check to make sure he’s breathing and watch him sleep just so I know he’s safe.  I want him to know I’m not hiding from him anymore.

When we first found out about Gus and especially when we found out he was a boy, everyone told us it was God’s will.

I’m sure he is in the very center of God’s will for our life, but at the time, that was so hard to hear.  So hard to believe.

In October, we went camping and on a chilly afternoon I napped in the tent while the girls played in the dry creek bed and Joshua played with the fire.  I lay there listening to the quiet sounds all around me and wondering why I couldn’t bring myself to believe this baby would be a gift.

I believe I heard God that day, though it would be months later, really it would be the moment they placed him in my arms before I would believe this….but I knew then that God truly does only give good.  What we choose to do with His gifts, how we receive them, the perspectives we gain…that is all up to us.  The will to choose to believe that this baby is a blessing and not a burden, that’s my call.

Every good and perfect gift comes from above.


Gus, you are perfect and good.  You are special and wanted.  You are loved and cherished.

I may slip into the shower sometimes just to cry over the everyday trials of motherhood, but I am not hiding. Not anymore.