3 Months Old and Growing Like a Weed

Today, little/big Isaiah turns 3 months-old, but you wouldn't know it by looking at him! We've put all his 3 month clothes in storage and graduated him into a 6-9 month wardrobe. He's still inching toward the top of the chart in the 99th% for height at 26 inches, and chunking out steadily at 16 pounds in the 89th% for weight.

As his personality and preferences are being revealed, I thought I'd share some of his favorites with you, and with the future him who might look back on this someday in curiosity.

When he's restless his sissy, Angie knows just what he needs, she quickly takes him to his happy place by playing him "Awake" by Hillsong from her phone.

In the evenings, he giggles as Daddy changes his diaper, gives him a bath, or swaddles him up for bedtime.

He still loves snuggling with Mommy in the mornings, and he's becoming quite the talker, interrupting to throw in his two cents on most of Mommy's work phone calls.

He can't resist a nap in his car seat or lamb swing, and he's still a sucker for his milk (pun intended), although he's not as ravenous as the first two months. Here's a little side by side shot to show how that milk's beefing him up.

He's determined to fit his whole fist in his mouth. We're a bit concerned that it might get stuck if he ever wedges it all the way in there.

He likes sitting up like a big boy.  His head's still gargantuan and a bit unwieldy, but he's getting closer to holding it up on his own.

 Bubbles! He's training for the world record in most saliva bubbles blown at one time.

Since the moment he was born, most people's first observation of him has been that "He's so alert." It's pretty adorable, but we won't be too upset if he doesn't always have 'crazy eyes.'

Here are a few outtakes from his 3 month photo shoot today. I didn't catch him at his silliest moment, but we think he's always pretty adorable, we know we're biased though.

Insensitivity 101

Someone mentioned the other day that raising a newborn takes a lot of organization and time management. That helped explain why taking care of our new little guy is a lot more enjoyable and less stressful than I anticipated it would be. Those qualities come much more naturally to me than dealing gracefully with the ingratitude and disrespect of a young adult. But you wouldn't think the sensitivity required of me to recognize the needs of a speechless baby would evaporate when interacting with our pre-teen. That's exactly what happened a couple weeks ago though...

On Saturday, we celebrated the fourth anniversary of the day Angie's Bolivian adoption was finalized. We feasted on some of her favorites, steak, corn on the cob, and mouth-watering Sister Schubert rolls, outside on the deck on a beautiful evening. Angie was surprised and appreciative to have the spotlight on her again for a moment, when she's so often been sharing it with her baby brother recently.

The very next day was Mother's Day. Angie has just this past year started enjoying spoiling others on holidays. So much so that she went overboard shopping for me for Christmas and my birthday. For over a month she'd been saving her money for Mother's Day, and asking me what I wanted; unwittingly setting the expectation that she had plans. And although I honestly did not want her to spend a bunch of her precious little money on me, apparently I did want her to at least do something special, because when she couldn't even be bothered to make it down to join us for breakfast before church, or give me my normal kiss goodnight before bed, I was hurt.

The disappointment lingered and grew into resentment as Facebook overflowed with sweet gestures from children of all ages to their beloved mommas, and Angie showed no remorse for practically forgetting me completely. Ridiculously, I found myself more short-tempered with her over the next few days, but eventually, my insensitivity and dimwittedness dawned on me.

I really had no excuse for forgetting the complexities of holidays for adopted children, in light of the "adoption" celebration we'd had just the night before. But it took me nearly a week to remember how difficult, especially Mother's Day, can be for kiddos who don't know their mommas. When everyone else is cherishing the woman who gave them life and continues to sacrifice for them daily, adopted children are only reminded of the aching hole in their hearts where that mother should have been.

And this year had all the makings of Angie's hardest Mother's Day yet. Since the arrival of the new baby in our home, she's been thinking more and more about her own childhood. She desperately longs to know what she looked like when she was a baby herself. As she sees a loving biological family interact, she craves that natural ease and comfort that she never had. And all of this leads her to wonder more than ever who her mother was, why she had to give her up, and how she's doing now.

So, this Mother's Day, as my child neglected to pamper me, I was really the insensitive one. Holidays often make me aware of my selfishness, as I compare myself to others, and can't help but feel a sense of the entitlement I generally loathe. But this one was especially low for me, as I failed to mother my hurting child, waiting for her to mother me. I give you all license to whack me over the head next year, and remind me when I'm being a jerk. Thanks for letting me process through the ugly stuff I discover about myself here, you're welcome to hold me accountable to work on it. :)

The Gift of the Present

When I sit and nurse in the early morning or the middle of the night, and all is quiet and peaceful as my baby gazes sweetly at me, or snoozes contentedly, the moments are almost sacred in their serenity. Yet even then, I can't help but make lists of chores for the day, errands to run, and shopping that needs to be done.

We are constantly on the move, aren't we? If we're not on our way somewhere, we're planning our next trip whether to the grocery store or an exotic island getaway. The problem I'm mulling over though, isn't so much about living in motion versus stillness, but more about living in the present instead of the future.

Lecturing Angie makes me acutely aware of the trap we all fall into so easily. I get frustrated with her because she always seems to be complaining about her current circumstances or looking forward to future ones. For years, she dreamed about having a little sibling, and now that she has one she moves on to daydreaming about her fun summer plans. Instead of vocalizing her joy about her little brother, she complains about school and the trials of homework and seventh grade frenemies. 

But really her "I can't wait till this next thing happens," attitude is not much different from our own as adults. At work, how many of us are living for the weekend? At home, aren't so many of us just surviving till we get the kids down for the night? How many people countdown the days till their next vacation?

In the bigger picture in parenting, we so often take for granted the stage they're in right now, while waiting for the next milestone that will make life easier. Once he sleeps through the night, we'll be cruising. When she starts walking I won't have to carry her everywhere. When he can talk I'll understand what he needs. After they're all in school I'll have some semblance of my freedom back. When the oldest starts driving I'll no longer be the family's taxi service.  Once they're all off to college, we'll be able to travel... Eventually, they'll have kids of their own, we'll be grandparents, and then we'll sit back and enjoy!

It's easy for me to write this now, because for the first time I can remember, I have nothing to look forward to. And that is the best compliment I can give my life. 

For nearly 25 years, I was working to get to the next level of education, culminating finally in graduation from veterinary school. Before I had even become comfortable in that new role as a vet I set my sights toward moving to the mission field. After a year of rigorous fundraising I made it to my goal and headed for Bolivia. For six months in language school I fantasized about being able to minister fluently in Spanish. And shortly thereafter, I began the roller coaster waiting game of adopting Angie. In the meantime, I was falling in love and eager to take the next step toward marriage. Once we tied the knot, it seemed like everyone around us had babies and was asking us about our plans for more kids. And the ultimate test of anyone's ability to be satisfied with their current state is of course, pregnancy, it's even referred to as "expecting."

But now, since our bundle of joy has joined the family, and I've recovered fully from the trauma of letting him into the world, I can honestly say I have nothing to look forward to. I have nowhere I need to go. There are fun trips on the horizon, and it will be wonderful when the baby can hold his gigantic head up on his own, but this place feels so good. It's lovely to think you could be stuck in the movie Groundhog's Day with a day just like today, and not really mind at all. Even as Zy sits next to me fussing and I have no idea what he needs, I'd be okay if nothing ever changed.

So, really I can't blame Angie, I've been living the rat race all my life too, I just happen to be in a sweet spot.

This Mother's Day, whether you're a mother or not, I pray we can all focus on what we have to be thankful for now. That we can all have a day we'd be happy to repeat. That we can sit and appreciate it for a second before moving on to see what's next. And I pray that before the next trial inevitably comes that I can learn, as Paul did, that contentment is not about the pleasant circumstances we find ourselves in, but an act of the will to trust that the Lord has put us right where we are and to find the joy He meant for us in that place.

"I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation," 

- Philippians 4:12