Mommy & Daddy are Tired

Ava's doing great. Remarkably well.

By God's grace and thanks to the presence of Grandmas and Auntie over the past month, Elizabeth, Ruby & Hannah Mae are holding steady at home and their signs of stress from all the transition and my absence are diminishing.

We're in a pretty good routine...Matt's able to work as much as he needs to; after breakfast with the girls and putting Hannah Mae down for her nap I head to the NICU to see Ava, and spend the day snuggling with her skin-to-skin and pumping. Unless he has to work late, Matt and I head home in time for dinner, graciously provided by friends or (recently) miraculously whipped up by my sweet sister-in-law, and then spend the rest of the evening playing with and putting the girls to bed before tending to the necessary bills or admin stuff that's piling up. It's incredibly smooth, thanks to all the generous friends and family who are pitching in. We most certainly wouldn't have this much peace were it not for you.

But in the middle of it I am exhausted. While pumping around the clock and tring to be present for ALL our girls, I'm not resting like I would normally after having a baby. And my heart is torn in half every day. I miss the girls when I'm not home, and feel guilty and sad when I'm not with Ava. I know this is par for the course and it's not truly going to feel "right" and "good" until Ava is home, but until that can happen, I need extra grace for myself, stamina and discernment about when to be where.

The day before I had Ava, as I lay alone in a dark hospital room, praying for endurance while magnesium was pumped into my veins, God graciously gave me two gifts. One was a gentle reminder:

Be STILL and KNOW that I Am God.

The other was a picture:

my little hands releasing their grasp on all the things I was clinging to...trying to hang on for dear life to...and opening the contents into his great big, strong enough hands.

As contractions grew stronger, I clung to those truths: I can let go. He is enough. I can cease striving. He is God.

When I cried into my pillow as I spent my first night apart from my newborn daughter...now for the second time in my life...I grasped for the peace that would come...He is trustworthy. He cannot fail me. He is God. I can rest.

Every day, and every night now, I search for that place of rest. We know God is sustaining us. We know he is faithfully carrying our family. We don't know when this will end...but we can be still. He is God.