:: the paradoxes of our precious little world ::

Behind three security doors at our city hospital lies a calm, quiet haven where our youngest baby currently resides. It's little world that we have become quite familiar with over the last few weeks. Each time I go in I walk past half a dozen, often sleeping, tiny little giants before I reach our own. Tiny in stature, giant in courage, tenacity against the odds, and the ability to finish developing their major organs in the outside world, rather than the safe haven inside their mothers, because they were born too soon. There is something quite holy about being in this space. As terrifying as it is in some moments, I truly feel like I am in the company of giants. A dozen and a half perfectly formed miniatures, many more of the staff who take care of them so wonderfully, and I like to imagine some pretty hefty-sized angels watching over each sweet and valuable life.

The courage isn't only limited to the babies. I see it in the smiles of their parents. Many of whom were thrown suddenly into this world without much warning, having to ride the ups and downs of the first days, weeks and sometimes even months of a baby in Neonatal care. I know myself that it's really really scary at times, and even when there are settled moments, the fear of another dip is almost overwhelming. When I meet and talk with other parents in our shared kitchen/lounge area, they inspire and touch me because I can see behind their warmth and smiles that tears have been shed along the way. They have admirable strength and an ability to laugh and be thankful for even the smallest of steps in the right direction.

I guess I expected this time around to be easier. We knew what 26 week old babies were like and had gone through the months of virtually living around the Neonatal unit. In the hours before Elea arrived, I figured at 31.2 weeks, it wouldn't be too bad. My expectations weren't very accurate as, I've realised, every baby has a different story. Even though every scan had showed she was growing perfectly well, she had quite a shock arriving into the outside world and her first weeks were pretty tough. There were lots of scary questions with heavy implications asked of us, as the medical team tried to figure out why she wasn't behaving like babies her age normally would. I've only heard the emergency alarm being used for her, and she's had it three or four times. I know in my head that the team are completely capable of doing a lot more for a baby that we realise and that she'll probably be ok, but the sound of the alarm, the rush of the senior staff and the calm way they directed each other as they helped our little girl who had changed from pink to purple to grey...there's only so much strength to hold back the tears and the fears in those moments.

It's an experience that holds such diverse emotions. Fear and worry on one hand, with thankfulness and peace on the other for all the milestones reached, the settled hours or days and the step by step progress. I have found it hard not to feel guilty as I've watched everything Elea has had to endure that, in an ideal pregnancy, she wouldn't have had to. But these things happen beyond our control, so often the guilt is replaced by remembering with thankfulness that she is here and safe, and a pride in her ability to battle on. This time around we're also doing it with three other children at home. We are blessed and very grateful to have my mum here to look after them and carry a huge load, not only running a household but coping with their out-of-character behaviour which is their reaction to their lives suddenly being thrown into a bit of chaos, not having mummy with them all day every day, as they did have. I've really struggled to balance the needs, making mistakes along the way. Wanting to be in two different places at the same time is not quite possible, neither is keeping each person happy. The load is hard on each of us for different reasons and, when we're tired and stressed, words and attitudes come out that are unintended and we interpret each other in ways far from the truth. So, while some of you have encouraged me saying I'm a wonderful mum (which I appreciate!), I am humanly human and haven't coped well or done very well in any of my roles at times. The reality is not quite as wonderful as I would like it to be. This is not said to ask for any sympathy at all...just to be honest. It's tough, it's scary, it's reassuring, worth celebrating and beautiful all mixed into one. And we're moving in the right direction. It meant a lot to hear the consultant and head of the Unit say last week that he estimated Elea would be in Neonatal for another 4-6 weeks. When things are unsure, which they tend to be with the small babies, there's a lot of hope that comes with a glimpse of a light at the end of the tunnel...however far off that might be.

And our little hero? She's doing well. She's had some rocky moments and some great moments. A few steps forwards, a few steps back. Sometimes she's caught in a bit of a vicious cycle where she needs something that causes something else that causes something else because she needs that something. But she's moving ahead in her own fashion that oftentimes is accompanied with the words "I've never seen that before!" It makes me wonder what big plans God has for her life with her ability to move ahead outside of the usual parameters of "normal"...a word that we as parents crave to hear!
Today she has been very settled and relaxed - I think the most settled, uneventful day of her life so far (we also like to hear the word "uneventful" in this little world!). So, as I drove home tonight for the first time in months, I was very touched as I recalled the events of the day, the people I had met, the precious world we are currently existing in, and the good and ugly parts of this experience of living under stress and tiredness with hope for a good outcome. I don't wish this experience had never happened, because there are good things in it. I grab a hold of some of those things, but stumble and drop them...and some are yet to be reached, but I'm thankful it's all been meant for us...and for every person who is part of it, from the staff, to the families, our family and many of you who have held Elea and us in your prayers and given us so much encouragement.

Thank you so much

:: the saturday of questions ::

It's Easter Saturday. That gap between Good Friday, when we simultaneously eat hot-cross buns and try to fathom the incredible implications of what Jesus did in giving up His life for us, and Easter Sunday, when we pull out the Easter eggs to hide around the garden for our children to find, and celebrate the new life and new beginnings He offered us in coming back to life. Sometimes I think about this Saturday and what it might have been like for those living right in the middle of it. Jesus had spoken of rebuilding the Temple in three days, but did they really understand literally what that would mean? Jesus was now dead. What were his followers doing? What were they thinking? How were they feeling? It must have been horrific, without doubt, to have seen what had happened to Jesus the day before. To have felt helpless to defend him, not to mention too afraid to stand up against the forces of the authorities. I wonder what this day, the silent one after his death and before his resurrection, was like for them...

Empty?

Hopeless?

Doubt-filled?

Were they overwhelmed with regret and what-ifs and Why did/didn't I do that?

Were they questioning life Is this all there is?
 

Sure, Jesus had spoken of things to come and of His Kingdom, but on that day did it seem like all those dreams were dead also? Unlike us, they didn't have the benefit of knowing what was just about to happen in the following days. But, how often is it very similar for us, too,  in our distrust when we contemplate our future, even with the Easter story as a backdrop?

Disillusioned, overwhelmed by hopelessness and doubt, wondering if it's all really true? Or, Is it just too good to be true? That same voice that pulls us away so easily from the hope and the inexpressable joy that is ours in trusting that what Jesus has promised us. The voices that keep us from enjoying the sweet taste, unlike anything else, of the fullness of life that comes when we live out the truth of who He is, who we were created to be, and in loving and valuing others as who they were created to be!

Today started out as one of those days for me, if I'm honest. I'm not sure why - apart from the fact that there are some big things ahead - but I've been feeling a bit overwhelmed about life and it's easy to really wonder what is ahead, letting doubt and worry flood in. I have the promises in my mind, and I'm surrounded by so much goodness, but still I waver and struggle. Thankfully there is that glimmer of hope within me - a quiet confidence that...

This serves as a beautiful reminder for us as much as it was for those who went through that Saturday so long ago. As Jesus' followers discovered on that beautiful Sunday morning, and the subsequent days filled with awe and joy, we also have that in part now and one day will experience it in all its fullness: that life - true life - is so, so much better than anything we've ever known before!

So let's enjoy those Easter eggs tomorrow, celebrating the sweet taste and the symbol of the new life, hope and joy that Jesus freely offers us!

:: just being honest ::

I've written often about my need to focus on the things I'm thankful for, especially when it's very easy to see all that isn't going so well. Growing a thankful heart is such a good thing for me because the opposite can lead to a very self-centred, ungrateful heart that compares and always comes up short. Lately, as in the last several months, has been quite challenging. I'm a perfectionist with little grace for myself and my perceived failings, so I can easily crash into an over-tired and over-whelmed heap of tears when all that is needed is a good sleep, some wise input and open eyes to realise that actually there is always so much going on around me, big and small that is worthy of notice and gratitude.

Our little man is going through a phase of sobbing every single night we put him to bed. Going in at regular intervals to reassure him and sometimes pick him up for cuddles work temporarily, until we leave his room and his tears return in full force. It can take a couple of hours before he's peacefully asleep for the night. I know he needs to learn to go to sleep in his bed, and he does, but it's hard work on my heart and my sanity! At the same time our girls seem to alternate in waking up in the middle of the night, either crying because it's dark or turning up in our beds. They're also transitioning out of day naps, so are either very tired by dinner time, or have had a sleep after lunch and won't sleep until late in the evening. Needless to say it's a pretty tiring phase to live through at the moment. A phase...I have to remind myself of that. Something that will pass!

The future is also unsettling me somewhat knowing that there is a big dream right around the corner that we would love to see fulfilled, but we have no idea how or if that will happen and it will involve some pretty big (sometimes overwhelmingly scary) sacrifices. And, at the same time, I'm asked regularly if the girls are going to kindy yet, which is a very normal question to ask a mum of almost-four-year-olds, but is another thing that is requiring a huge step of trust on my part. I think the realisation hit me just yesterday that it's me who is avoiding this decision because, if I'm really honest, I don't want to let go right yet. These are the two precious lives that I have nurtured and protected right from the moment I saw those two tiny spots on the ultrasound screen. I have fought for them (in my prayers!), and lived through so many terrifying moments of thinking we would lose them, then the subsequent months of them being so tiny and fragile, trying my best to keep them away from sicknesses that normal babies could cope with. These two little girls are now reaching the age where I need to let go a little and allow them to begin to fly on their own. Of course it will only involve a few hours a couple of days a week, at first, but all-too-soon I know those hours will multiply. We're not sure about their schooling yet, but for now it will be good for them and for me to be involved in other activities and getting to know other children and families. It's scary, but I trust it will be good, and, if I'm honest, I know at least one of us is more than ready for this!

So, while I try to hand these worries over to the One who can hold them safely, removing the fear and burdens from my mama's heart, I work on giving myself some grace for being a mummy who simply wants to love well and do a good job raising her three precious little people, even if she's often a bit tough on herself.

If you choose to seek perfection, may it be in an infallible grace—for yourself, and for everyone around you.

These beautiful words struck a chord with me when I came across them recently and stood me back on my feet, reminding me that as a mother I'm inextricably linked to those closest to me - my husband and the beloved papa of our children, and then these little lives that have been entrusted to us. Because, if I don't accept it, everyone around me suffers. Grace for us all...how refreshing!

And it always helps my soul to choose to look and find the countless things to give thanks for. To stop the comparing, the complaining, the negativity and impatience and to really live in the moment of appreciating the sweet act of service from a child, or the early morning sun filtering through the beautiful lilies growing wild in the grass, or the latest funny phrase that pops out of the mouth of a child whose mind is constantly taking in what she hears and experiences. To realise that I'm really not alone, but living with the most adoring and entertaining company within a world that does hold so much suffering, pain and loneliness, but also (thankfully) equal measures of beauty and love.

There is really so much that we've been enjoying and thankful for here lately, including the visit from some very precious friends with whom we shared an apartment when we were living close to the hospital while our babies were in Neonatal. But that post and others will have to come another day, as I look at the time and hear my husband's very wise but loving voice in my mind reminding me that sleep is vital!

May you all have a weekend in which you realise that you are not alone with your struggles and fears, that you are noticed and valued and that you can see much to be thankful for around you. May grace, peace and joy be with you.