Back at it. {an EYC Update}

This is what the past 3 months has looked like for me... pretty darn cute, huh?  This morning as they laid in our bed while I got dressed (a new concept for me lately. I'm sure the teachers at Aubrey's school were a little shocked!) my sweet little world of mommy-ing and home began to crack open.

Welcome to real life, I thought.  You can do hard things.  I keep reminding myself that the to-do list will get shorter (haha!) and that being without my little man will have joys along with the sting of not having his chubby hand grab for mine all day.  And already, 5 hours in, the joys are appearing.  I am beyond excited for our mission trip in July.  I had breakfast this morning with our high schoolers just because I missed them. Nothing has changed: they are still brutally honest and make me laugh more that I'd like to admit.  I was welcomed back with breakfast from the staff and flowers.  *Yes, that is double breakfast... be jealous*

When I came back to work after having Aubrey I was afraid of how I'd get it all done.  This time I know, I won't.  I can't do all.the.things.  as much as I desperately wish I could.  I'm not the 25 year old youth minister with nothing but time who could go to every everything that ever happened on a campus.  Now I'm the *gulp* almost 30 year old youth minister with two kids, play dates, friends, and a house who can't be everywhere but who can be far more authentic than I was 5 years ago. Who can speak the hard truth and hold up the mirror to show my students their beauty and worth.  The realness of Christ's movement through my ministry... the way that being a mom has taken time away from my students but given me a heart for them that only a parent can have, it has changed the game for me.

I used to want to give our students the joy of the life I had in high school by living withing a strong Christian community.  Now, I want to make sure that each and every one of our students knows that they are worthy.  That nothing they do or say or accomplish can make God love them any more or less.  That the world needs their unique beautiful selves unfiltered (via Instagram or their peers) and by living into THAT they will know true community and perfect love.

You.  Are.  His.  Beloved.  

and so am I.  

A cooler on the porch.

Our sweet church does this amazing thing.  They FEED you when you have a baby.

Like desserts every night.  Already cleaned fruit.  Covered dish.  Full belly.  Feed you.

And they leave your meal in a cooler on your porch.

Thank.  The.  Good.  Lord.

Because while some people struggle with being pregnant or that whole baby transitioning through a ridiculously small opening thing, I struggle with 5pm.  After giving birth to two little humans the worst hardest most scary part is the sun setting.

And sadly, that also collides with the time that people bring you dinner.

On more than one occasion (I would say on MOST occasions) each time some sweet family was creeping up our steps to slip a meal in to our camping cooler I was sitting on the other side of the door on the couch crying.  There was usually one or two other small people crying with me.  All I wanted to do was get to those desserts and feed the feeling of

whatthehellhaveidone
howdoidothis
whenwillieversleepagain

Those are clinical names.

And those signs covering my windows; they were sort of so you couldn't see me breastfeeding but they were mostly so you couldn't see me crying.

With each baby I have found myself googling 'at what point do I see a doctor for psychosis?'  I also find Jay googling 'how do I deal with my wife who just had a baby'

You have to wait two weeks before you even go in for depression, the psychosis diagnosis is FAR later.  I know.  I've called my OB and asked.  Jay has not called my OB but has learned to just keep bringing me brownies.

I am always convinced I'm the only one.  I'm the only one who has such a hard time with feeding this small human.  I'm the only one who cries because this new family member is beautiful and oh-so-freaking-needy!  I'm the only one who is morose because they didn't appreciate that last good night of sleep.

Yet, I know I'm not.  The OB, my friends, and my meal-providers told me!  Loneliness may be the next worst feeling to 5pm because on top of it all you don't want the world to think you just can't handle being a mom so you close the door, put out the cooler, and cover the windows.

God and I are struggling with why such a cruel thing happens-- not only does your whole life turn upside down when having a baby but you are also stripped of having the mental capacity and emotional control to deal with it in a level-headed way.

I've begun to think of it as baby boot camp.  The worst happens at the start so you know as you look back it's only getting better.  Even if your little dude isn't sleeping through the night at least you didn't cry at dinner tonight!  Even if you have to wear yoga pants to every.  gosh.  darn.  outing.  because buttons are the devil you are aware that you have survived the meconium poop so things are looking up.

Those first two weeks are hell, mamas.  You know it.  I know it.  We all know it.  You may love that little baby so much it hurts (or you may hope you do because nothing is for sure in the haze of baby boot camp) but it's a different level of hard.  It's "can I actually do this??" hard.  That kind of hard is scary.  But 5pm passes.  The sun rises again.  The days pass and before you know it boot camp is over and you look back on those weeks with fond memories that must be placed there by God Herself because they are not real but the human race would not survive if we remembered what it was really like.

Also.  Dessert with your coffee in the morning will give you something to live for.

Oh… and this face!