Encouragement

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I remember the night we took my first child home from the hospital so vividly. It was terrible. It was supposed to be wonderful, but my stomach still turns when I think about it. It was 12:00 am on Thanksgiving morning, and the hospital staff told my husband Eric and I that we must leave at midnight in order to be considered discharged that day. I don't remember why, perhaps because it was a holiday, but we weren't allowed to leave earlier or later. We had to leave right at midnight. Of course I was exhausted and hormonal after a whirlwind 48 hours of labor, delivery, and entrance into the realm of breast-feeding for the first time. On top of it was the order to discharge at midnight. My mother-in-law helped me dress the baby, and Eric gathered our bags. They wheeled me down to the first floor, so we could get going. It was chilly for Florida in November. I was not excited. Instead I was terrified and already feeling lonely. "What am I going to do?" I remember thinking. No one said good-bye. No one smiled, waved, or even said, "Good luck!" I felt like we were being shoved out onto a dark street of an unknown city all alone. During the trek home, which was all of five minutes, I kept glancing back at the car seat while grabbing Eric's arm. "HONEY. I can't hear her. Maybe you should pull over and let me check on her." I remember like it was yesterday. I was a basket-case. My mother and grandmother were waiting for us at our the front door of our house. They were quite thrilled to see us, as much as they could be for the middle of the night. That helped but of course only until they got back in their beds. A really overwhelmed, dazed and a hazy feeling of loneliness and disappointment settled over me. It was dark, quiet, and cold. Wasn't this supposed to be a bright, joyous celebration? "HEY everybody! Our first child is finally here!" Not a soul or sound was to be heard -- only the aloof silence of midnight slumber.

My weary husband (you know what I'm talking about if you've ever been married and had a baby) was groping in the dark to find his long-awaited destination -- our bed. He fell asleep so fast. I kissed him on his forehead and got up to use the bathroom. When I was back under the blanket, I stared at the ceiling. I reached up and over the side to take a peek. Our moms had gotten Lydia situated in her bed for her first night home. The street light's watchful glare poured into the room around the curtains, constant and silver, but that wasn't enough. It wasn't enough for me to see her. I got up and turned on the closet light and left the door cracked just enough to give me a little light. She was so tiny in there compared to the hospital bassinet. Her small body was snugly swaddled and so very quiet. I almost drifted off to sleep but suddenly felt my heart leaping out of my chest as my eyes flashed open. I heard a muffled purring beside my head. Was she okay? Was she breathing? Oh, what if she stopped breathing! I couldn't take this. I was so tired, but I had to sit up in bed. I had to make sure she was going to be alright. The walls of our house, the whole neighborhood, the whole city seemed to be mocking me, leaving me utterly alone to take care of this little baby! My eyes wanted to flood with tidal waves of tears, but I was too exhausted to cry. I made myself stay awake, propped up beside her head, for the longest vigil I had ever experienced. Suddenly the image of the faithful spouse, parent, and child forcing his eyes to stay open over the bed of a sick loved one now made complete, relevant sense to me. I kept gazing from her face up to the glimmering beam of the closet and back down to her face again until the sun finally gave in and returned. Praise the Lord, my soul! Our sweet baby survived! Oh, how sleep-deprived I was, and everything was better in the morning. Of course it always is, as God knows how joy comes in the morning. After breakfast I rested while my sweet family held our baby, and when I woke, I was no longer scared.

I am sure that parts of my story have similarly etched themselves in the memories of many new mothers. It is not as though I have a totally unique experience. Most new moms and dads probably don't have a perfectly happy story to tell about the day they brought their baby home from a hospital. For me this night was forever alive in my mind, and it was just plain hard. Some people may think these kinds of experiences are silly or irrational situations created in our minds. Yet for Christian mothers, these types of feelings are mere drops of rain that precipitate the cleansing and refreshing rainstorm coming from the hand of Almighty God, causing more lush and vibrant growth than perhaps any other times in life. Does it really have to seem this terrible, to be this overwhelming, and cause feelings of isolation? Not necessarily. Not for the Christian mother. God is Sovereign. He does with our souls as he pleases, and if he sees it fit for motherhood to bring these kinds of trials, then we can trust that He is there and knows what he is doing. In these times, maybe more than any others, we can feel the intimate presence of our Savior. There are several little golden promises about Jesus that God tenderly brought to my attention during those early weeks, and it is those that have gotten me through them.

"He will tend his flock like a shepherd; he will gather the lambs in his arms; he will carry them in his bosom, and gently lead those that are with young" (Isaiah 40:11). The first time I recall reading this was a few weeks after my baby was born. I wept for what seemed like hours. God cares about young mothers! He is not far off from his children. We are the ones who rebel against him. Even in our sinful doubt, the blood of Jesus covers us, and he tenderly cares for us. In the darkest, loneliest times of our lives, we can close our eyes and see the reality: Jesus is there, and we come to the throne of the God who cares about us. Having a new baby should bring us so much joy, and usually does. But for some mothers, the influx of new hormones and all of the physical and emotional changes cause unexpected reactions -- I say unexpected because Christian moms sometimes think that we aren't like other moms. We are still human, and God knows we are weak. Knowing that we are vulnerable to feelings of doubt, fear, and lack of self-control can prepare us to say the truth in our minds when our hearts rage against us. We can say, "I have no idea when or how this is going to change, but God has not left me. I am a sheep with young, and God says he will gently lead me. I'm going to keep going, and I ask for your help, God." The remainder of that chapter in Isaiah really brings us into the light of God's sovereign power, and it is worth reading over and over as we bring a new child into our families.

"I am the vine; you are the branches. If a man remains in me and I in him, he will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing..." (John 15). Jesus is speaking here to remind us to cling to the truth of who he is and what he means to us. It is not as though he is screaming, "YOU BETTER STAY HERE, OR YOU WILL BE WORTHLESS." What he is doing is tenderly embracing us, as if he were saying, "Oh, my child. Don't you know that if you try to make yourself clean and fruitful on your own that you will fail? Come, come to me, and find true rest for your soul." Jesus always uses the months after a baby enters my life to bring me back to total dependency on him for everything. When I let go of my agenda and trust him and know that there is nothing I can do as a mother to make him love me any more or less, I am free to love as he loves. I am nothing but blessed when I grasp the truth of his sufficiency.

"But the Lord answered her, 'Martha, Martha, you are anxious and troubled about many things, but one thing is necessary. Mary has chosen the good portion, which will not be taken away from her.'" (Luke 10:41). Most of us are familiar with Martha's weakness when Jesus came to her home. She was frustrated and worried about her busy hard work while her sister sat at the feet of Jesus. She was straining and striving, and Jesus gently rebuked her. In times of stress, women are wonderful at throwing more troubles on the pile then necessarily and then settling down in a terrible self-pity-party. I know I am guilty of doing it (ask my husband)! Having a new baby is hard work, and that is just the beginning. Yes, thank God that we really do get into a groove with a routine that suits us, but those first few months can be very draining and difficult. The key to success is sitting at the feet of Jesus and learning from him, talking to him, listening to him, even if it is just a two-minute, down on the knees, "Help me, O God!" prayer. Then we have an amazing unexplainable fountain of peace and joy that overflows to our new baby and everyone around us, as we work hard and rest in Christ to finish what we simply cannot do.

Someone may say, "Well, that is all well and good, but it just doesn't seem to be that big of a deal." Or,"What if I am too tired to remember these things? What if my husband and I aren't getting a long, or what if a c-section or newborn illness takes more of a toll than I ever imagined?" That is why pregnancy is good training ground for trusting God. What I learned is that maybe I could have used some of the time I spent on wordly endeavors during pregnancy to train my heart in his Word. The nine months of carrying a child are no easy days for most moms, and for me it seems to been a good time to really dig into what God is saying to me in his word. Even if we know his word, though, those weeks can be so hard. But look! God is there, loving and caring for us! He keeps vigil over our souls not just for one night but for our whole lives. Christ wants us to come to him with all areas of our lives, in our joys and brokenness, and he is more than able to take our burdens. Perhaps the title of this article is misleading. Maybe it should be completed as, "Yes, you can - in Christ!" Jesus is who gives us the strength for the days of new motherhood and beyond. Whether our first night(s) at home with baby look dark and lonely, or tranquil and enjoyable, we can speak the truth to our hearts, that, yes, we can do this with the proper perspective of our humanity and the sufficiency of our Savior.

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