Beckett is now 11 weeks old. I've heard this first 3-month period referred to as "the haze" or "the fog" or "survival". I've decided that, just like all the other postpartum platitudes, this rings SO TRUE! Because of this haze, in which we just tried to put one step in front of the other (living in these 2.5-3 hour eating intervals), I have felt incapable of thinking on Kyler's place in relation to Beckett.
As a note for moms coming after me: The end of this pregnancy was hard. I went in to triage twice in the last week prior to delivery (including 3 hours before the scheduled induction), because the fear of death/loss was so strong. I stared at his monitor for truly 15 hours straight-- except with room changes-- during labor, fearful that his heartrate would drop dangerously low at any moment. I felt that every minute required the battle for my thoughts, to reign them in and make them obedient to Christ. To me, that meant reminders of the goodness and REALNESS of heaven and being near the Lord and reminders that earth was made to be temporary. Why is it so easy to fear death with a panicked-fear? In an effort of self-protection, I didn't envision bringing Beckett home. In fact, I don't think I considered him my son during pregnancy, but as a baby to guard and protect. Because of this preoccupation with a safe delivery and 'making it to the finish line', I did 0.3% of the preparation I should've done for life with a baby at home. I read nothing about nursing, schedules, cues, cries, etc. Thankfully, all we had to do in the house was dust off the nursery from pre-Kyler, or there would've been 4 empty walls waiting on us when we came home. I do think this mental block past labor and delivery was harmful to the first several weeks at home, but hindsight is 20:20 as always. I say all this to say... if you struggle with the transition home, I assume it's only natural. I hear you're likely to struggle anyway regardless of past experience. ;)
A fellow loss mom reached out to me in the early weeks of Beckett's arrival and warned me that there may be some guilt related to not thinking much about our firstborn for a while. Unsurprisingly, she was right! A thought of Kyler would cross my mind while carrying Beckett back to change another diaper, when I saw the many Ky's bunnies in the nursery, or watching other one-year-olds at church, but by and large Kyler was absent from my thoughts. I suppose it felt too difficult to process anything other than Beckett gaining weight and staying healthy. Now that I have more hands-free time with the chunk of a baby sleeping better, I've noticed (without effort) Kyler entering my thoughts more. I'm thankful for that. It feels unnatural to carry and birth a child and not to have them claim their rightful place in your thoughts, despite not knowing much about them. I don't know that he will always be on our Christmas cards, or that I'll often answer "two" in response to how many kids I have, but I can't erase him from our family. Nor do I want to. This child has shaped the way I view heaven, death, loss, and the realness and depth of life... hopefully forever.
I backed up all of my old photos on a hard drive this week, which required me to look back on the many pictures during and post Kyler, including my video of Shay's reaction when I told him we were pregnant, our gender reveal, babymoon, showers, etc. It hit me that we had been totally naive in our happiness, not a clue as to what would happen. But if we had to do it over again, I might choose to do it the same- without knowing how it would end - because Kyler's pregnancy was filled with much more gratitude and enjoyment than Beckett's. Regardless, I'm aware that the rest of our lives will be lived in a manner similar to both pregnancies: we're wholly unaware what our days will require of us. I'd rather live the rest of mine like we did during Ky's pregnancy, joyful and in anticipation of good things.
Two weeks ago, Luke 19 made an appearance in a book I'm reading. It's the story Jesus tells of a king who left his city and servants to go obtain a kingdom, and gave his servants each a significant amount of money to "do business" with while he was gone. If my interpretation is right (and the commentary that informed it, ha), then the takeaway is that I have great responsibility to improve upon the world's knowledge of eternal life won for us by Christ... if I call myself a Christian. Luke 19 was quite a re-focuser, providing intention to my days that should've been there all along. Perhaps instead of standing fearful with one eye closed toward the rest of life, curious what other hard things are ahead, I should "run the race with perseverance," knowing that "he who promised is faithful" and will take us to be with him in the kingdom he's prepared for us -- with many rooms!
Whether death may come early in life or late, we are certain that it will come. And instead of living crouched in a self-protective stance ("for you are not given a spirit of fear, but of power and love and a sound mind"), I want to live out my God-given intention, that in all things He may be glorified such that others will wonder the reason for the eternal and sure hope that we have. I am thankful to have had to think on these things more, and practice reminding myself (or being reminded gently) that the purpose of life lived here does not have anything to do with me, but everything to do with crying out with creation what hope of perfection awaits us. Maybe it takes imperfection, fear, sin, death to help us more clearly see and crave what true perfection, joy, holiness, and life look like.
These song lyrics were the first thing printed in our church handout this week:
Be still, my soul: the Lord is on thy side.
Bear patiently the cross of grief or pain.
Leave to thy God to order and provide;
In every change, He faithful will remain.
Be still, my soul: thy best, thy heavenly Friend.
Through thorny ways leads to a joyful end.
Be still, my soul: the waves and winds still know
His voice who ruled them while He dwelt below.
Be still, my soul: the hour is hastening on
When we shall be forever with the Lord.
When disappointment, grief, and fear are gone,
Sorrow forgot, love's purest joys restored.
Be still, my soul: when change and tears are past,
All safe and blessed we shall meet at last.
