(Insert sad whimper HERE)
Day started for Matt around 0340. Bless that dear man's heart, he takes any feeding after 3am before he gets ready for work. Unfortunately for him, lately Levi's been snoozing solidly...until about 3:30 or 4. He eats, and then he chirps and yips in his bed until I get up around 7.
It started like any other morning. I got up and pumped, Matt changed Levi's diaper and handed him off to me, and I fed him.
Halfway through, what should have been a simple burp was a projectile return of the goods...with extraordinary gusto. Huh. Change of plans. I'll shower sooner rather than later. On my way out of the shower, the little twinge in my back/hip that I started noticing last night yelped at me when I bent over to replace the pacifier. Guess the bad body mechanics I'm sure I've been using for the past several weeks in bending and lifting my sweet baby have come back to bite me. Levi's starting to melt down. I'm starting to feel grumpy.
Not surprisingly, partway through my breakfast, Levi was like "Waaaaiiiitttt a second....why is MY tummy so empty???" and started to howl. Mean Mom decrees that he needs a bath before he needs to eat - but a sponge bath will do since he just had a good dunking yesterday. Perch him on the guest bed in his room, strip him down, fill a basin. Diaper is majorly full. I spit-shine him, and move to the blowout area. Gave that a good, thorough cleaning (Levi was quite displeased at this point, because clearly the growling tummy due to the earlier evacuation of his breakfast was MY fault) and am JUST about complete when a chubby little foot hooks into the basin and tips it...all over the bed and carpet. Poop-infused water. Fab. More laundry. And what is a little boy to do thereafter??? Pee!! All over mommy's exquisite new t-shirt (see above). I got it for free at the meat market. It shows a stick person chasing a steak and says, "I exercise just so I can eat more." Very fitting for me.
I was feeling a little discontent yesterday. The sky is gray. Getting out with Levi is a production that I reserve only for very necessary trips because I'm still getting in my groove of executing them with any semblance of finesse. Exercise goes on the back burner. Sadly, so does my quiet time with the Lord. I get a little lonely. Nothing anyone else doesn't feel from time to time. An early case of The Bummers enhanced by a new baby.
So in the middle of all of this this morning (post-projectile, pre-pee), I'm at the kitchen table wrapped in a blanket of inexplicable blah. For some reason I glanced at the calender and my eyes settled on a date I will not forget in this lifetime.
Ohhhhh. The day my heart dissolved.
A year ago yesterday, we found out that our Glory Baby was going to be a Glory Baby, and not an earth-bound baby.
It shouldn't surprise me that a quiet sob still teases the back of my throat when I think of that sweet baby that we had already grown to cherish. When I started decorating for Christmas last week, it rushed upon me so quickly and unexpectedly that I had to make a quick exit to gather myself (Sarah and Lisa, I covered it well!). A year ago I was decorating and still savoring that delicious secret that we were anticipating springing upon the family on Christmas Day. I pictured that a year later I would be hanging ornaments on the tree while balancing a baby on my hip...or whirling around the living room with our baby when a fun Christmas song came on...or whatever.
And then my heart dissolved on that one day.
And God is so kind, isn't He??? He is sovereign, and only He knew what joy awaited us. Only He knew that next Christmas, I WOULD be hanging ornaments on the tree one-handed while Levi filled the other...that I WOULD be whirling around the living room with a wide-eyed Levi whenever that fun song by Trans-Siberian Orchestra comes on (Wizards in Winter, I think??). That the most beautiful music in my house would be the chirps and yips of a lively baby, or the soft coos and sighs of a sleeping one. He DID bring beauty from ashes. He didn't have to. I don't deserve it. I was prepared to accept whatever He brought, even if I didn't like it.
So I sat at the table crying into my oatmeal, because little did I know a year ago, on that awful, awful day when I stared at a mockingly empty ultrasound screen, that here I'd be with spitup stains on my clothes, poop-water on my carpet, and yet another pee-soaked load of baby clothes in the laundry queue. Looking at a darling, perfect, gorgeous little boy who knows how to dial my number with one wide-eyed blink! Whose cheeks I could just suck right off his face. Whose sleeping form I can hardly take my eyes off of. Whose sassy cry is like music to my ears.
God IS good. All the Time.