A List of Our Tears

I'm linking up again with Stephanie Spencer at Everyday Awe for her Psalms Journey series. This week we are looking at Psalm 56.

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Having a baby does crazy stuff to your hormones.

I like to say that I cry twice a year. In reality, it might be three times. Rob always jokes he's seen me throw up more than he's seen me cry. Except it's not a joke.

The only exception is right after birth, when I get what the books call "baby blues." That is almost an offensive term because it makes this period sound really kind of sweet.  Aw, she's got the baby blues! Isn't that cute! It's almost like being told you have a case of the Mondays.


I remember after having Lincoln weeping for literally hours at a time, bemoaning everything from the decisions made in his birth to the loss of my roller derby career that season because of a c-section to the fact that I felt exhausted by my first son after going through traumatic birth with his new baby bother.

Rob had no idea what to do with me. Throwing up is easy to handle. Three hours of crying from a woman who doesn't cry? I'm surprised he didn't have a panic attack.

All the while, I knew underneath my tears, there were hormones to blame. Some nights I cried over worries, and some nights I just cried. I remember telling Rob between sobs: "I'm really not sad. It's just the hormones."

This time it hasn't been so bad, but I do find when I talk about certain subjects, or mention certain things, the immediate reaction is weeping. (So mostly I've been avoiding serious conversations until the hormones level out.) I know for the most part anything I'm crying about is not worth the weeping. It is mostly just hormones.

And yet...there are many things worth weeping over.

Whether something small just affecting your life or something like the disastrous tornado in Oklahoma affecting so many lives, there are tears to be had. People often question (during the small or the large): does God know? Does God care what's going on down here?

Psalm 56 gives such encouragement to those questions. Another Psalm like that from last week, where David is facing human opposition, there is one single verse that resonated with me as I read:

Record my misery; 

list my tears on your scroll--

are they not in your record? 

Psalm 56:8

God has a list of my tears and my misery. Not only is he aware, but he has a record that is much better than my memory could ever be.

We don't always have answers, and our little issues may seem small compared to a tornado's destructive power, but God knows and God cares. We may not have an answer or clear picture of how God is working in a situation and yet we can still trust that he cares.

I think of Matthew, where Jesus assures us of our worth as God's creation:

"Are not two sparrows sold for one penny? Yet not one of them falls to the ground outside your Father's care. And even the very hairs on your head are numbered. So don't be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows."  Matthew 10:29-31

God has a list of our tears and the number of hairs on our heads. I don't even know the hairs on my head. God knows me better than I know myself and loves me more than I can fathom. I am worth more than many sparrows.

YOU are worth more than many sparrows. 

He knows your sorrows and your joys and those of this world.  He hears the weeping of loss today in our country and across the world; he also hears my hormone-induced weeping which seems so small when I stack it up against the tragedies of this world. Yet both are important to him.

So as you go about your day with its joys and sorrows, large and small, bring them to the Lord in thanksgiving or as requests. Know that he has a record of them, but still desires that you bring those to him because he cares for you.

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Knowing that God cares for the sparrow and for human life, let us reflect that care in our own lives for those around us. If you want to donate to those affected by the tornado in Oklahoma, you can give through the Oklahoma Baptist Disaster Relief. Donations will go directly to those in need in Oklahoma.There are, of course, lots of other organizations, but I like ones that promise the money will go directly where you want it to go--to those in need.

Life Now: Two and a Half Weeks Out

Cooper Maryln
Ah, Cooper. We are loving our little girl! It's still weird to use girl pronouns (sometimes I slip and call her "him") and so much fun to put her in clothes. We went from having one girl outfit to having like 50 thanks to hand-me-downs and new gifts. (Thanks, everyone!!) She is super easy-going so far and reminds me a little of both boys.

Cooper sleeps like 23 hours a day and when she is awake, she is aware and looks around at everything and everyone. The only time she really cries is when I don't feed her fast enough. She eats every 2-3 hours, sometimes 4 at night, and has gained over a pound since we left the hospital (which puts her almost a pound above her birth weight) and has grown about an inch. Crazy!

I am reminded how much I love the times when my babies are small and love the long days with her--just feeding her, letting her sleep, and changing like 19,000 diapers. What's hard right now for me are the boys, which is a lot because of the recovery and just not being at full steam. I feel mildly guilty at how relieved I am when other people play with them or take them places (thanks, Rob and grandparents!!). I do know that it's a season, so I try to just enjoy those moments and not feel guilty, but it's definitely much easier for me now just to have Cooper. We are definitely loving her!


C-Section Recovery
This time around has been much easier. I knew what was coming, for one thing, and there is so much to be said for having a c-section without also having gone through labor. And also having a spinal/epidural rather than being totally under and waking with no pain meds, like last time. (Shudder.) By the time I came home, I was already feeling much better. I stopped taking the heavy pain meds the second day and just switched to Ibuprofen.

Then in week 2, things went back down. I had a few days where I was in a lot more pain and bleeding a bit more heavily. I talked with the nurses at my doctor's office and they said that it was really normal a week or so out was still early and I should expect good and bad days. Mostly I sit around in pajamas, but we have had a lot of activities like Sawyer's birthday and a few end-of-the-year performances that got me out. I could always tell at the end of those days that I'd done too much.

My swelling is mostly gone, but I still have some pitting in my swollen feet. But I have legs and ankles! And lost 30 pounds since Cooper's birthday, leaving little baby weight left to go. Yay! (Clearly, I gain lots of weight pregnant, much of which is my fluid overload.)

Though Coop sleeps well at night (eating usually every 3 hours, maybe 4), I am exhausted all the time and fall asleep at least once every day in the middle of something--whether watching TV or talking to someone. I can't keep my eyes open! Go figure.

The low point: I found myself crying alone in my bedroom after taking a shower, unable to get my underwear on by myself. There is little more humiliating than when you have to ask for help getting your underwear on.Thankfully Rob is the best husband ever and managed to help me without making me feel more humiliated.

The good news: Every day is a little better, and I'm only taking Ibuprofen when necessary, maybe once or twice a day. I definitely feel like I'm getting back to normal.

Update, in Numbers

Girl outfits we had two weeks ago: 1
Girl outfits we have now: 75 (rough but realistic estimate)
Times Cooper has spit up down my shirt this week: 5
Hours of sleep I get in a stretch at night: 3
Naps I took today: 2
Loads of laundry we have done in the past two weeks: 20
Cookies I baked tonight: 147
Weight Cooper has gained since leaving the hospital: 1 pound, 5 ounces
Seasons of Justified Rob and I have watched: 2

Life is full of numbers. Good numbers.

Future Derby Girl

This week Cooper is being reintroduced to roller derby. I say reintroduced because her first introduction was being in the womb for my last (and maybe second-to-last) bouts. Tonight she attended her first practice and Saturday we'll go to the first game. She slept all through practice tonight--the sound of whistles, wheels, and shouts are familiar enough because she has been hearing them through my skin for the last nine months.

She also got her first introduction to smack talk. I couldn't resist posting a few edited photos of her, using her giant yawn face.

Eating babies is a derby term. When a jammer (the point-scorer for each team) gets through the pack, if you can somehow slow her down so she gets sucked back into the group of defensive blockers, it's called eating the baby. Flyon Maiden skates for the Brawlers, the team my team (the Bosses) will play this week.

One of the refs, Ajax, took the same yawn photo and made this fabulous pic.

No pack is when the two sets of blockers become separated to the point that they are not in proximity to each other. A ref will call "No pack!" and the blockers must reform a pack.

Houston Roller Derby is now starting junior derby, so maybe in a few years, Cooper might make her debut on the track. Or...maybe she'll do her own thing. But derby is definitely in her blood.

Bright, Then They Fade

Thursday. Cooper has been alive for seven days.

I have sticky tape residue on my hand from the IV. On my back from the epidural catheter. My stomach for I don't know what--maybe to pull it tight so they could see clearly to make the incision. I scrub the tape a little each day, but don't ever get it all. I'm not sure if it's because it hurts or because, like scars, the tape is a reminder. A story.

I also have a baby girl. Eight pounds, six ounces: not small, yet everything about her is in miniature. "Look at her little mouth," says Sawyer. He is holding her in his lap and I sit close to make sure he supports her neck. He can't stop kissing her head, her eyes, her little mouth.

Sawyer has been alive for 1,826 days today. I have a scar from an episiotomy that I looked at once with a mirror. I will never do that again. I have stretch marks, a few more gray hairs, and about five extra pounds that I suspect are permanent. More reminders, more stories.

I also have a son. One that I would describe as wild, though now, rocking his new baby sister and singing a lullaby he has just made up, I see something else. A sweetness, revealed only in small moments like these. He is counting her fingers  and I am counting the days and years past, and those ahead.

Counting the days past can only be done with stories and memories, the days ahead in wishes and hopes. Photographs and blog posts are futile attempts to contain the richness of these moments like catching fireflies in a jar. Bright for a time, then they fade.

I want to press this moment into my skin. A scar that I can touch and remember, maybe with a little twinge of pain to make me really feel it. My one-week old and five-year old have the same noses, pressed close together now. I am staring, hard. Working to memorize the moment that is so quickly over as Sawyer trades Cooper for my iPhone. His baby sister for a turn playing Temple Run 2.

I smell Cooper's hair as I hold her. This too, will fade, even as I press her close to remember.


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Hooking up with a talented and probably good-looking writers and bloggers at Yeah Write. All the cool kids are doing it.