The other day, after I had put up a couple of new posts, Justin mentioned that I have not blogged anything about Thatcher since he was born 3 months ago. I told him, yeah, I should update some pictures and info on him. But I kept putting it off. Thatcher is adorable. He is huge. He is healthy. But I have had a really hard time feeling happy.
If you knew me back when I had Thad, you heard about my struggles with him. He was colicky, he was crabby, I had a really hard time nursing, it was terrible. But it got better. (See previous post HERE). When I got pregnant with Thatcher, I told myself that if I had another colicky baby, I could handle it because at least I knew what to do. Fast forward to Thatcher at 3 months. I have cried a lot. I don’t know that he is really a difficult baby, I think it is mostly me. Yes, he fights me on sleep a lot. But, he nurses GREAT (When I said before that he is huge, I mean really, the kid is huge. I had to pull out some 12 mo jammies the other day. He is 3 months old). He really does a decent job sleeping at night. Naps are sporadic, and some days they are minimal, but overall, he is right on par for a 3 month old.
But. I haven’t been happy. We are at an age where a lot of our friends are having babies. With constant Facebook updates, I feel like sometimes I am hammered with new moms and their “I love my baby” comments. “My baby is perfect”, “Look how wonderful my baby is”, “I am in heaven”, “I couldn’t be happier”. And it is so upsetting to me. I love my baby too, but why don’t I feel happy? Why am I not in some La-La land where everything is unicorns and roses, and I just spend my day gazing at my baby’s face in a cloud of love? I don’t know. It’s just not the way it is for me.
My unhappiness really hit a peak last week. I was up in the middle of the night with Thatcher, and although it wasn’t an especially difficult night, I found myself feeling so ANGRY. Angry that he was crying, angry at myself for not handling things better, angry at God for being in this situation, and angry at the poor baby. I just felt really, really mad. The next day I decided that I had had enough of being angry and unhappy. I started thinking about the verse that says that God won’t give you more than you can handle. I couldn’t remember the specifics of the verse, or even if it was really a verse, and not just a saying that you hear. So, of course, I googled it. Turns out that the specific verse, (Corinthians 10:13) is referring more to what God will allow you to be tempted with. But, in my search, I also came across a chunk of verses in Psalms that really hit home.
Then I realized that my heart was bitter,
and I was all torn up inside.
I was so foolish and ignorant—
I must have seemed like a senseless animal to you.
Yet I still belong to you;
you hold my right hand.
You guide me with your counsel,
leading me to a glorious destiny.
Whom have I in heaven but you?
I desire you more than anything on earth.
My health may fail, and my spirit may grow weak,
but God remains the strength of my heart;
he is mine forever.
- Psalm 73:21-26 (NLT)
And when I say these verses hit home, I mean it couldn’t have not addressed my problem more perfectly. It is exactly how I have been feeling. I feel like my whole perspective has changed. I feel like I am seeing my baby with new eyes. It is wonderful. And it is without a doubt, an answer to my prayers. I was bitter. My spirit was weak. But now I feel God holding my right hand. I was trying to do things on my own, and failing miserably. I am so thankful that we have a loving God, who is willing to still care for us when we are acting like senseless animals. Will things be perfect now? No. Will I ever feel frustrated? Of course. But it is different. I finally feel happy because I am no longer trying to handle things on my own.
So! Without further ado: Thatcher Reid
He smiles a lot. He just started rolling from front to back, and he can get halfway from his back to his front, if he is really angry (this seems to give him extra rolling power). If you tell him he has stinky feet, he chuckles. He is oh-so-close to reaching for the toys that hang on his bouncer chair. He has recently decided to void our agreement on once-per-day poops. He has a healthy fear of his big brother (or as he calls him, the random screamer, hitter, and smotherer….gotta watch that kid). He eats like a fiend, and happily drools on your lap and stares at your food at the dinner table. He has a strong resemblance to his mother:
Or so I am told. I think it might have something to do with the giant cheeks, which I am still waiting to grow out of. He is a good boy. His big brother is a good boy. I have a great life. And for the first time in a while, I feel content. I am very thankful for what I have, and will keep my verses in Psalms as a constant reminder that God is holding my hand, and He is there to lead me with His counsel because I belong to Him.
