Category Archives: Parenting

It’s already been one full year since I was checked into the hospital and birthed you out of the dark. Your wet and waxy head nuzzled into my chest and I can still feel your warmth and my tears. We laid there and you saw me and your daddy cried and we named you Rowan for strength and life. I knew you were beautiful in the black and white images from the sonogram, but nothing compared to your beauty in my arms that night.

I hardly slept, that first night. I remember staring at you from my movable mattress while your daddy snored on the couch. Every whisper and whimper set my senses alive with fire and I threw blankets off to stand next to your sleeping frame. You, wrapped up so tight and so sleepy, I couldn’t bear it… you out of my embrace. I brought you to the pillows surrounding my waist and you snuggled there in your knit cap, smelling of fresh skin and cotton. Hours felt like moments and I drank you in slowly and breathed heavy into the warm hospital air.

It’s been a year since the first sleepless night and we’ve been blessed with very few since. You’ve grown and I’ve grown and now you smile and laugh and my heart thumps an unknown love with each beat. It grows every moment, that love. With every diaper changed, with every tantrum thrown, with every hum of “You Are My Sunshine” in the dark of night, your mama’s love runs deeper and wider and nothing can shore up the overflow.

You crawl so quickly now and you build blocks and crash cars and oh, how you love to wrestle. You’ve become a whole new kind of sweet, learning to give kisses and snuggles and you pet the dogs and are learning “gentle!”  You are clever and you are stubborn, you are your father and you are me. We’ve been through and broken through so much together, you and I. From the first flutter of your heartbeat to the slapping of your hands on hardwood, we have journeyed through darkness and sickness and forests and rivers. You’ve learned to trust my eyes and my hands and you mind when I ask. Mostly.

For many years, sweet Rowan, I thought I understood. I thought I knew our God in the deepest sense, for I have seen Him and he has rescued me from the darkest places of despair. But I didn’t know Him like this… not until you breathed earthy air into your lungs that night you were born. When you entered, He did, too. I know what it means to have a love so deep, the roots touch the core and I understand what it means to shepherd and care and instruct and discipline.

Because of you, I understand His love for me.

And I pray that you will know His love for you, too. I pray that His love will fill your heart strong and His grace will become yours to shower out onto others. It’s hard for me to imagine that anyone could love you more than I do… but I can assure you that God does. I know it in my bones, son. You have always been His, long before you ever became mine.

Today, on your first birthday, I want you to know that I will never cease giving thanks for you. You are the greatest gift that your daddy and I have ever received and we cherish you. We adore you. We are so thankful for you.

You are my Rowan and I am your mama and I love you.

I love you.

I love you.

I’m sorry, Mama. What was that you said? I couldn’t hear you over my delightful munching of your armrest.

Oh. You don’t want me chewing on your armrest? Oh okay. I’ll just stand here and look cute then. Is that okay, Mama?

I’m sitting in the quiet of my home, in front of a screen. The dogs are snoring steadily on the couch and I hear the small boy child matching their breaths through the baby monitor. Today, I need to be quiet. Today, I need to spend time in reflection, focus and prayer. I feel the jumbled up confusion inside the cavities of my chest and I need to take a moment to breathe in deep and exhale slow. I need to sit and write with a pen to paper, I need to read and be reminded of the point of my focus.

I feel like I’ve been in a perpetual state of stretching and challenge. Something is nipping at my heels and I need to turn around and face whatever it is that’s been pursuing me and causing discomfort.

So, today… as I take a moment to reflect inward and sort through the swirls of thoughts, I leave you with a picture.

Someone, please, explain to me how my child looks like a little boy? He’s only ten months old. He is still my baby. But his long frame is starting to toddle and I find myself looking at a raucous young child with striking features that resemble his father.

Also? Save me. The plaid shirt is too cute.

Last Friday, I boarded a plane without my son and spent three days in Colorado.

As a mother, it took every fiber of bravery to get in the car and back out of the driveway. I spent half of the 30 mile drive to the airport in tears, trying desperately to focus on the road. I thought about my Rowan… his sweet silhouette fast asleep for his morning nap. I tiptoed into his room before I left and prayed over him, cried over him and allowed my heart to swell up inside my tightening chest.

How could I leave him?

I can’t bear it. I can’t leave.

Knowing perfectly well that Rowan would be fine in my absence being taken care of by Erik’s mom, I was the one showing separation anxiety. In the nine and a half months that I’ve had the undeniable privilege and blessing of being his mama, the longest I’ve been away from my boy is a mere sixteen hours. I was certainly not ready for three days.

But, I knew. I knew that leaving him would be good for me. Good for him. I took to Twitter and asked for some quick words of encouragement and advice. I was flooded with responses from moms and dads who had already traveled down this road, and friends who know my heart and my fears.

It’ll be great for you. Mom-in-law has raised kids. She knows what to do. It is good.

You can do this. And you are doing a very good thing by going. Praying for you this weekend.

This is a great opportunity for him. Remember all the clingy 3 three olds in kids ministry w/parents who can’t leave? This fights that.

I was quickly reminded that this is good. This is good for my son. I want what’s best for him. Nobody can take care of him like I can, but other people can certainly take care of him and he’ll be just fine. I don’t want to be an overprotective mother who won’t allow her child to explore the world on his own without me. I want him to know what it’s like to be cared for by others, what it means to listen to other adults, and to be confident without me around.

So, I boarded the plane. I flew to Colorado, where I spent three days caring for one of my best friends during what most wives would call their worst nightmare… her husband left her, and she was alone. After the first night and a few text message updates about Rowan, I was at ease and I became immediately thankful that I left him behind. All of my attention could be focused on my friend, instead of divided between her deep emotional needs and the needs of a nine month old. I was free to do whatever she needed of me, I was free to have deep conversation at a moment’s notice, and I was free to engage on a heart-to-heart level… all things that I’m not sure I would have been able to do had I brought Rowan with me.

I missed him, though. Oh, how my heart ached and longed to enjoy my morning snuggle, to play chase around the kitchen floor and watch as he splashed in the bathtub.

But, I was able to take long, uninterrupted showers. I was able to sleep in. I was able to read on a quiet morning. I was free to visit with friends in the middle of the day without worrying about nap times. Now, being home and reunited with my son, I am able to see that my time away provided me with much-needed refreshment and rest.

I am now more engaged, more present, and less tired than I was when I left. Not only was my time away good for Rowan, it was great for me.

And nothing could have been more special than the moment he saw me upon my return. He focused in on me and SQUEALED in delight, kicked his legs furiously and reached for me. HE REACHED FOR ME. When I held onto him and smelled his baby-fresh hair, he snuggled his tiny cheeks into the nape of my neck and I was overcome. It was the best moment with him that I can remember. All of my fears and anxiety about leaving was washed away by his sweet hand on my face. I am Rowan’s mommy. No time away could ever change that connection I have with him. It can only make it stronger.

So, here I am. Back home, with a napping baby in the other room as I sit at my computer and sip coffee. After my time away, the Lord has shown me the great importance of leaving. It has provided Rowan and I with new confidence. It has provided me with energy and a new sense of purpose as a mother. It has provided him some time away from me, which only helps to build his independence and strengthen his love for me.

So, if you are a mom or dad who is wary of leaving your sweet babe behind for a few days, I can now speak from experience. It’s a wonderful thing for you AND your child. It’s going to sting at first and your emotions will do their best to get ahold of you… but it’s healthy.

And hey… who wouldn’t like a morning to sleep in once in a while?