If we're being honest, I shouldn't be blogging right now. I should be taking full advantage of the fact that my daughter is taking a nap for the first time in at least twelve days. We're right smack in the middle of a sleep pattern change, and I hate it. I'm just being totally, completely, sincerely, brutally honest. I was quite content with Ella sleeping 8 hours a night, and I don't know if we're in a growth spurt or her first attempt at rebellion, but she's killing me. The logical side of me believes that she's adjusting poorly to the temperature change. Our room is a little colder, but we're not quite ready for  the heater yet. When I finally get tired of fighting her and pull her into bed with us, she sleeps like a queen... but I sweat all night long. And I sleep with my arm against my husbands back so that he doesn't roll over on her. And I keep my body stiff so that I don't fall of the bed (which has actually happened recently.) And I wake up every morning cussing myself for letting her stay there. My neck hurts, my back hurts, my head feels like it's going to explode, and I really feel like I'm going to have a meltdown if I don't get coffee coursing through my veins immediately. My excessively chipper husband greets me with a "Hey Baby!" and my morning child smiles at anything and everything. I ponder how I could possibly exist in a home full of people who enjoy sunrises and getting out of the bed in the morning, and don't respond to any questions or baby shrieks until the coffee light ticks on. 

One of my favorite movies is "A Knight's Tale." Not because of the plot, necessarily, but I love to quote movies, and this movie is a great one for quoting. One particular line is from the character named Geoffrey Chaucer, and in this line he says:

"To trudge: the slow, weary, depressing yet determined walk of a man who has nothing left in life except the impulse to simply soldier on."

Y'all. I'm trudging. I'm trudging through motherhood right now. I feel the best form of blogging is honest blogging. I. Am. Trudging. 

Anyway, I should be creating my grocery list. Or possibly doing laundry for the first time in three weeks. I could finish cleaning out Ella's closet, considering we've transitioned into the next size up, and that means finding a new house for all of the clothes that we bought just a short month ago. It would be a good idea to clean up the mess I made while cooking dinner. Logic would state that I should be proactive in preparing a crockpot dinner for tomorrow's lunch. But I'm not going to do any of those things. I'm going to sit in this recliner, drink my coffee, and collect my thoughts. I'm going to pretend that my daughter's vaccinations haven't made her a complete psycho for the past 24 hours. I'm going to pretend that I have so much money that I don't need to worry about making a budget friendly grocery list. I'm going to pretend that my toenails are painted a vibrant shade of red, and there's no such thing as callouses. I'm going to close my eyes while I type, because I know that as soon as I put my head on a pillow, that darling little princess is going to open her eyes. So I wait. I have a Coldplay album playing in the background, I ponder a few of the lyrics in-between keystrokes, and I wait for those sweet little shrieks to fill my ears again.

Yet... in the midst of the chaos... in the midst of trudging... in the midst of the never-ending cries and the 24 hour buffet I've been running for the last week... I'm grateful. My heart is full. I have a healthy, happy, rapidly growing daughter in my home, and she's just about the greatest thing that's ever happened to me. I can say with completely certainty that I will not miss these sleepless nights. I will not... but I'll miss her tiny face burying into my neck when a stranger speaks to her. And I'll miss the way she looks curled up on her Daddy's chest when she takes her ten minute power naps. But I will not miss these sleepless nights. I just want to make that real clear. 

My heart is thankful for a husband that understands that this is just a phase. One of these days, he's going to come home and dinner will be ready. He's going to walk into the room, and Ella is going to shriek with excitement to see him, his wife is going to come around the corner with hair done and makeup on, and she's going to throw her arms around him. He's going to sit in his recliner, watch an episode of some television show that I don't understand in peace, and then he's going to sit down with his family and enjoy dinner. Someday. Right now, he comes home to a wife with dirty hair and dark circles, a baby thrown on her hip, some form of protein defrosting in the sink, and an overall sense of exhaustion in the air. He takes the baby as soon as he walks in, and hastily kisses his wife on the cheek so that she can start dinner. He bounces the baby until the baby gets too hungry to hang out with Dad anymore, then he cleans up the living room so that he can find his recliner. We're in the heat of new parenthood y'all, and one of these days we're going to find a routine. Until that day, we soldier through and collapse into the bed at night.

My heart is thankful for the vaccinations that have wrecked our world lately. I know there are so many thoughts and opinions and warnings about vaccinations, but I really don't care to talk about them. We chose to vaccinate our daughter because we aren't willing to risk the consequences of opting out. I'm thankful that we are raising our daughter in a world of countless medical advancements, and that we're able to protect her through modern medicine. I won't lie, I wish that I had the ability to disappear through some of these fits that Ella is throwing, but I clearly can't be upset with her for responding to her body building antibodies.

My heart is thankful for the chaos. Someday, we'll look back and laugh. We'll be the parents of a teenager who knows everything, and we'll smile to ourselves. "Ha!," we'll say, "And we thought things were complicated with an infant." We'll look at each other with tired faces, and say "Remember when she couldn't talk?" and smile. We'll look at her baby pictures with whatever device technology has advanced to by then, and our hearts will hurt a little bit. Was the teething phase so bad? Were her cries really so exhausting? Were we being dramatic? Surely things were easier when she stayed where we put her. 

My heart is thankful that I'm aware of how quickly this is going to pass. I picked up a pair of newborn jeggings today and I just about crumbled into pieces. I scooped up my cranky baby, sat down in her bedroom floor, and I held her. She screamed bloody murder, I prayed that the tylenol would kick in soon, and it wasn't a moment that I would call "precious," but I soaked it in. I soaked in all 24 1/2 inches of her. I kissed her cheeks and her forehead. I kissed her nose. I held her close to me and ran my fingers through her hair. I love being her mama. She wears me out, and sometimes I really do wish she came with a pause button, but we're going to make it. She is worth every minute.

My heart is thankful that even though I am certain my body will never be the same, it continues to amaze me. It managed to grow a human, recover from two abdominal surgeries, heal itself remarkably fast, and feed the human it grew in a year's time. I have aches and pains all of the time, but in the grand scheme of things, the Lord crafted us so brilliantly. I push myself to the breaking point, but my body always bounces back. I never want to take that for granted. I'm thankful for the Lord's design. Especially when it comes to feeding my baby. For free. 

Basically, this blog is just a way for me to collect my thoughts. To sort through the million things I have coursing through my brain at any given moment. I'm so, so tired. I swear I've never been this tired... but I said that while I was pregnant. I said that when Ella was born. I said that after her first round of shots, and I said it last week. I think eventually I'll just adapt to being tired, and then life will get easier. And that's just about the time that it'll be time to start thinking about another baby. And then it'll start all over. It already makes me smile, and it already makes me want to punch myself. I hope that if you're exhausted, and plotting how many grown up beverages you're going to have when your child has its first sleepover at your parent's house, and wondering how in the world you're going to keep living this way... You remember that it's just a moment in the grand scheme of things. It's going to get better soon. Until then, hold the baby a little tighter. Cuddle through the screams. Ponder your sanity while you kiss baby toes. Laugh when you want to cry. You won't miss the mundane, but you'll miss the little years. I'm sure of it. 

"When a woman gives birth, she has a hard time, there’s no getting around it. But when the baby is born, there is joy." John 16:21 

Ella Morgan: Month Four

I just want to begin this blog by saying that we had a baby in the PERFECT month. It was hotter than hades outside (Actually, that's not true... during our hospital stay and the drive home, it rained cats and dogs. but the months leading to her birth were hot.) And it was miserable carrying her in the heat, but we are having so much fun as we enter into this holiday season. SO MUCH FUN.

October is my favorite month of the year. The 4th of July is my favorite holiday, but October is my favorite month. I love the transition in the weather. Long sleeves, but no jacket. Gorgeous sunsets that always shine the brightest on a drive home. The prettiest colors decorate porches and mantles. I just love it. I think it's a wonderful, wonderful month. And having a baby that isn't old enough to voice an opinion about wardrobe choices has just been a blast. I bought one halloween outfit at the Beginning of October (featured in her monthly picture) and a sickness was born. I love dressing this baby to the season. I already love what Ella has done to rejuvenate my enthusiasm for holidays. We ended up with four halloween outfits (all super cheap) and we wore them into the ground. I feel a little bad for how neglected the rest of her clothes have been. I'm only allowing two thanksgiving outfits. Both have been purchased. She's growing so fast. The halloween onesies were really too small when it was all said and done, so I'm glad the month is over and I don't have to continue to fight her into her clothes. Mom Fail.

This month was so full of milestones that I can't imagine typing all of them. It has been without a single doubt the funnest month so far. Something happens between month 3 and month 4, and you really begin to see little peeks of the personality beneath the baby fat. I don't have a single doubt that she's going to be sarcastic, and I'm on the fence about how I feel about it. I've lived my life with an extremely dry sense of humor that a lot of people really don't understand. I'm sure any number of people think that I'm just rude, but those are the people that don't understand the quick wit. Those that understand me love me, and I'm making a very conscious effort to tone down the sarcasm knob. I especially want to make a change for the sake of my child. I never want to pop off and hurt her feelings because she misinterprets my words. I know it's going to happen, but it's my responsibility to control how often it happens. However, if she's anything like me, Cody is in for a world of zingers and laughter... maybe at his expense. On the other side of the sarcasm, we're raising a daddy's girl. The moment she hears her daddy's voice, she cranes her head anyway it will go until she finds him. She usually shrieks with excitement when she sets her gaze on him, and he always wraps himself a little tighter around her finger. It's very sweet. I do think she'll be more like I am in social settings, where she observes before engaging. I've never liked it about myself, but it's who I am. I would prefer she was like her Daddy, with the ability to talk to a vase if it so intrigued him, but we'll just have to see where we end up. She's got the funniest little smirk, hates being in a quiet room, watches our every move, and randomly let's out a coo or a shout whenever her heart so wishes. She kicks her legs with glee, moves her lower jaw with discontentment when she's getting upset, and opens her eyes to record breaking scales when we talk to her. She slurps on her pointer and middle fingers (because a thumb is just too easy), and loves to play with a toy elephant that she found in her crib. The kid is obsessed. It's hysterical to hear her talk and shake it around.

Ella's first "major" holiday was Halloween. Her first technical holiday was 4th of July, but I was recovering from a c-section and bringing a newborn home from the hospital that day, so a red, white, and blue dress was the extent of recognition. Next year, I plan to have Ella's birthday party of July 4th, with a "Little Firecracker" theme. It's going to be 200 percent adorable, but we have at least 8 months before that blog post, so we'll discuss that at a later time. I was a little conflicted about Halloween, because I was raised in a home that didn't partake. We went to an occasional trunk or treat at a church, but we never bought costumes and we never went door to door. We were raised in a church that believed that Halloween was evil, and if you partook in its festivities then you were participating in evil. As an adult and as a member of a church that has truly allowed me to learn and love my Jesus now, I don't know that I believe what I was raised to believe. Do not misinterpret my words. Don't send me links to the history of All Hallow's Eve. Don't tell me I'm blind to the evils of this world. I'm not oblivious to the horrors of Halloween or the "darkness" that accompanies it. But I also didn't dress my daughter as a zombie and take her to a haunted house. I put her in a pumpkin and pushed her in a stroller with her cousins down one of Midland's better known neighborhoods. There were so many people that I was feeling a little claustrophobic. I observed the costumes and the scariest one I saw was a woman in her 30's dressed as a... well I don't really know what she was going for.  Leggings aren't for everyone, guys. Each house had a theme, from Duck Dynasty to Queen Elizabeth. The candy bars were legit, not fun sized. I was shocked. As a first time "Trick or Treater," I had no idea that this is how it went down. One house handed out Juice or water with their treat bags... and inside the treat bag was a piece of paper, and on that piece of paper was all kinds of scriptures and encouraging words. And I kind of thought to myself "Maybe that's how you do it." Maybe that's how you go out into the world and be a light. Maybe that's how you carry your candle "in the darkness." I was truly impressed by the kindness of the woman and the subtlety of her witnessing techniques. Truly. Anyway, the wonderful thing about my parenting decisions is that they're decisions of Cody and myself. We aren't obligated to adhere to anybody else's decisions, just as you aren't obligated to agree with ours. It's one of the coolest things about having a child of your own.

All of that aside, she is everything I hoped for in a child. She's happy, smiles at just about anything, and loves to cuddle. She sleeps in her own cradle, for at least 8 hours, sometimes up to 10. Her fussy days are hard days, but they're few and far between. This child has brought more love into my marriage than I ever could've thought possible. I guess it's maybe because we look at each other and we know that she needs both of us so much, it requires the two of us to need each other more. She has deepened the partnership between us, and I love it so much. Sometimes I truly can't remember what we did before Ella was born. I know we sat on our front porch a lot, but the memories stop there. I'm being a little dramatic... but I also feel so inclined to point out that most days, in the heat of motherhood, I look at Ella and say "All I've ever wanted was 5 minutes to stare at a wall and forget my name. Can you just give me 5 minutes?" Her response is usually a smile and leaning toward me. Then she buries her face in the crook of my neck and my heart crumbles all over again. It's hard to be a Mom. You learn how selfish you really are as a person. But it's also made me so aware of how deeply I need Jesus and how deeply I love my husband. I fall into the lap of Jesus and the arms of my husband every single day, mostly because I just need a little affirmation. It's okay to need affirmation. It's okay to take a break from the baby. Not because the baby is a burden, but because it's important to brush your hair. We are rapidly approaching the one year mark that I learned I was pregnant, and my heart is so full of gratitude that it only makes those sweet little cries something I want to remember. This time last year, those tears were my own, and I longed for the cries of an infant in my home. I think maybe that's what pulls me through. I choose to remember everything that brought us here, and I choose to praise when I want to hide in my closet and pretend like I'm in a 5 star resort where spit up and alarm clocks aren't permitted. I choose to laugh on the days when Ella is crying just to hear the sound of her voice. I choose to rejoice in the mundane rather than considering what it would be like to take a shower in peace again. When I was pregnant, a friend told me that the days are long, but the years are short. Even though it's going to be so great when Ella has an established routine, eats Peanut butter and Jelly for a snack instead of me, and can tell me what the issue is before she has a meltdown... I'll miss those baby feet. I'll miss the coos that fill our home. I'll long to hear the sweet giggles that we had to work so hard to hear. I'll miss it all, even though living in the middle of it is exhausting. So in the meantime, I'm thankful to have a partner that needs me as much as I need him. I'm thankful for a husband that understands that even though the house is a wreck, the dinner isn't cooked, and the wife looks like a Tim Burton character, He knows that his baby is growing up in a world that revolves around her happiness. That her mother is giving everything she's got to raise a baby that knows what it means to be dearly Loved. A mother who prays for grace in every step she takes. A mother who fights the negative thoughts that can so easily consume a new mom. He knows that some days, I'm too arrogant to ask for help. He's so wonderful to clean when I'm not in the room, because it's so easy to feel attacked when he cleans in front of me. I know that it sounds so silly, but some days, it hurts my feelings that he cleans the living room. My advice to new Moms would be to let your husband help you. It's incredibly hard, because you'll get this weird feeling that you aren't good enough when he starts cleaning, like he's doing it to spite you. But he's not. Some days, you'll conquer every aspect of motherhood. Other days, you're lucky if the baby has on clean clothes when it's all said and done. It's a part of the ride. It'll pass. Try again tomorrow.

I don't know if I've said it before, but I'll say it again. Motherhood is such a blessing. I'm learning everyday just how gracious the Lord is, and I'm so glad that he blessed us with Ella. She's a handful and I swear somedays she purposely waits until I'm in the middle of something before she decides to get hungry, but she's changed me so completely. She's 4 months old and has been the sole reason that I've clung so tightly to Jesus, and I can only imagine how much deeper I'll dig in when she starts walking and talking. Geesh Louise.

I think that's it. Here's her socktopus picture, and we'll see ya next month!