Three months old. My baby is three months old. How did that go so fast? Just yesterday he was a teeny 2 lb 14 oz baby, struggling to breathe, so pitiful in that little isolette. Today he's a 10 lb strong, healthy chubby boy with big blue eyes and the most precious chubby cheeks imaginable.
And he's three months old.
He'll be going to kindergarten tomorrow.
I'm already crying thinking about it.
Jax is the best baby. He's a sweetheart, a good eater, and a great sleeper (at night anyway). He's very alert...he loves lights and ceiling fans, and he loves his tummy time. He rolled over at 7 weeks, and he loves to show off how he can hold his head up and "stand" on mommy's lap. During the day, he's a little spoiled. He would much rather be sleeping in my lap than in his bassinet, and prefers being held to entertaining himself. There are many many days that he rides in his carrier on my chest while I attempt to accomplish a few things around here. The nursery just got finished, there are a million thank you notes to finish, and now there are holidays to plan. It will all happen eventually.
Some days I get a shower before Jerry gets home, and those days make me very happy. Some days I don't. And that's ok.
Sometimes I get laundry done or dishes washed or dinner on the stove on time. Some days I don't. And that's ok.
Some days it looks like I've made an effort to get ready. I've combed my hair. I've put on "real" clothes. I might even have on make up. And some days I look like I just crawled out of bed, I'm covered in spit up, and I haven't pottied all day. And that's ok.
Some days it's just hard y'all. I'm not going to lie. Like the times when I've changed my shirt 5 times before 10 am because I'm soaked in spit up. Or the times I've worked for a solid hour to get him to sleep and I sneeze and I wake him up. Or when I just can't figure out how to get it all done in the course of a day. It's hard.
And through it all, I have the same question...all day, every day.
Am I doing this right?
I'm learning that motherhood is a job unlike any other. I never realized what it would truly be like...to grow and sustain a life, to take care of this little life, to make sure it progresses as it should. I constantly wonder if the decisions I'm making are good for him, if he's on the right schedule, if he's eating ok, if he's pooping normally, if his breathing sounds normal. I worry that I'm not doing enough for him developmentally. Did I give him enough tummy time? Is he favoring one side of his head too much more than the other? Should I be doing more? Will he catch up developmentally to other babies his age? How do I help this?
So I make the mistake of googling my questions. I read article after article on preemie sleep habits. I look at message boards and see if Jax is progressing normally for babies like him. I get lost in a web of information...and I end up more confused than before.
And I wonder if I'll ever get it right.
And I pray that he survives in spite of me.
And I ask God to fill in the gaps that I know I'm leaving...
And then he does this
Or this...
Or looks at me like this...
Because I'm his Momma.
Because regardless of what books I read, what opinions I hear, or how the world will define "normal" for babies that are like him, he still needs me. And I need him. Without even knowing it, he forgives my many mistakes and comforts my soul. He brings me a joy like I've never known. He is who I need. He is my heart, my purpose and my life. God knew that when he gave him to me.
And no matter how rough it gets or how tired I am, I know it's going to be ok. I know it in the middle of the night when I'm rocking him to sleep, I know it when his little chubby fingers work out of the swaddle to touch me, I know it in the way he looks at me, and how he turns his head and raises his eyebrows when he hears my voice. I know it in the way that he relaxes when I sing to him.
I know it will be ok.
I know every day is my renewal...my chance to make it better for him.
Because I'm his Momma.
But I'm Harper's Momma too. I'll never forget that. I think about it every single day. Although I'm not raising her anymore, I still have questions. When I was pregnant, I analyzed the situation constantly. What did I do to make this happen? Why would my body not nurture her the way it should have? What could we have done differently?
In the hospital, as I sat there with Jax, surrounded by rooms with twins in them I wondered what it would have been like to have them both there...watching and praying for two sweet babies to survive in the most fragile of situations. When Jax would cry or seem unsettled, I wondered if he missed her as much as I did.
And now we're home. And life should be normal now, but what is that? How do we ever become normal when a piece of us is missing? I'm a momma of two babies, but I only hold one in my arms. How do I ever stop thinking of that?
I know I never will.
There are daily reminders. The way I always refer to my labor as the day I had the babies. The way I still call Jax's room the babies' room. The way that I want to sign her name just before Jax's....like I've always said them. The way that when I celebrate every milestone with Jax, a part of me hurts because I should be celebrating with two babies.The way that I always mention her when people ask if Jax is my first baby.
My answer just comes pouring out of me. I know it must make people uncomfortable, but it's true. I just can't say "yes." He's my second born. She was my first. She always will be. I can't say it differently.
Because I'm her Momma.
I'm still scared...in some ways I'm more afraid than I was pregnant, but it's different now. When I was pregnant, I was afraid of what might happen...that my prayers wouldn't be answered in the way we hoped.
But there was a future.
Now my fear is different.
I'm terrified that there will be a day when I start to forget her. I'm afraid I'll forget her smell, the way it felt to hold her, how in complete awe I was by that precious person. I fear that I won't remember what it felt like to have her lay on my chest, how it felt to hold my daughter's hand, or what it was like to watch Jerry care for her and watch the sunset from our room for the first and only time.
I want to remember every part of our day with her. My only day with her. So I relive it...a lot. I think about it, trying to recall every detail. I can't forget.
Because I'm her Momma.
And grief is a strange, tricky thing. I know when to expect to be emotional... The day we packed away her clothes and her bed. Holidays. Milestones. Receiving the plate with her precious handprints on it again. But there are other times that just when I think I have a handle on it, it hits me out of nowhere.... Like when I baked Jerry's birthday cake and knew I'd never teach her how to make it, or when I look at Jax and can't be thankful enough for the gift she gave us.
And no matter what I do, what books I could read on grieving, the people I could talk to and how many tears I cry, I'll always wonder...
Am I doing this right?
I cry. I remember and smile. I get upset. I am proud of her. I am sad for her. I want to do something to honor her memory.
Because I'm her momma.
The thing is, no book, counselor, friend or family member can get me through this. There's no magic potion, no special prayer or prophetic verse that equates relief for someone who has lost someone they love. I wish there was something I could do like that...
Or maybe I don't.
Yes. It hurts at times, sometimes worse than I ever thought it could...but my life is still better because of her. I am different because of her. I am who I am today for one simple reason.
Because I'm her Momma.
And even though it hurts, and I still struggle to figure it out from day to day, it's going to be ok. Every day is a renewal for me...my chance to make a difference in the world like she made in my life. Even though I feel like I'm blindly making my way through this process. God's love surrounds me daily and guides me through even the darkest of days.
He guides me. He loves me. He renews me.
Because I'm his daughter.
And even through I'm at a point in my life when I'm celebrating the growth of one child and the memory and legacy of another, even though I can't see my way through spit up and tears at times, and I'm sleepless from midnight feedings and tears on my pillow, even though I'm unsure of what to do next, when I feel like I'm drowning in my grief. I know it's going to be ok. He won't leave me...just like I won't let Harper's memories leave my mind...or Jax's hand leave my finger. He's my advocate, my number one fan..the one cheering me on to be the best mom, wife, daughter & friend I can be, even on the days it feels like too much...just like I was an advocate for my babies, how I stood by Jax's bedside and cheered on every good blood gas and every ml of food eaten.., how I celebrated every movement from Harper in my belly and how proud I am of all the lives she changed in the little amount of time she was here.
He is with me..just as he encouraged me in my struggle to get pregnant, how he sustained me when I first heard the diagnosis, and how he surrounded me with love and reassurance when I went into the delivery room.
He's there. Just like he always has been. Just like I always will be for them.
Because he's my father.
Because I'm Harper and Jax's momma.
Thank you Jesus for daily renewal of strength, for your unfailing love that surrounds me, and for the two precious world changers you entrusted to me.
