I slept terribly the other night. Maybe it was too many thoughts racing through my head, or maybe it was the coffee I didn’t finish until 4pm. Either way, I had a difficult time falling asleep and slept a grand total of about 3 hours. Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about how to transition “home”, and asking where exactly is “home” now? I can’t help but think about how different our life was just a year ago. We were in this sweet joyful season of expectation. Expectantly waiting an international move, and expectantly waiting on our second child to be born. We had a happy and calm two year old who never gave us any trouble, and my belly was swollen with a 39-week-old mysterious life inside. I loved everything about being pregnant and was SO EXCITED to welcome this new baby, but not entirely ready to give up the amazing feeling of fullness that comes with carrying a child inside you.
After all, there are only a few times in our lives when we get to hold our babies so close to our hearts.
Moses came to us after only 5 hours of labor, 4 of those spent at home. It all started in the middle of the night; It was like I went to sleep with one son, and woke up in the morning with two! The first few months were rewarding, and difficult. The things I’d learned with Hosea weren’t applicable with Moses. I quickly learned that he was completely different from his brother in every way! After dealing with a tongue tie and breastfeeding struggles, a dairy sensitivity, packing up our important things and moving to Northern Ireland, and after settling into a new rhythym of life on the other side of the world, I learned to take a breath.
After all, we only get to experience our babies’
first year once.
If I could choose one word to describe Moses, it would be ‘passionate’. Boy oh boy, is he a passionate fellow! He loves to imitate his brother, joyously screeching as loud as he can. He hears music everywhere, real music on the radio but also imaginative music in the banging of a highchair tray or the slamming of a cupboard door. He dances wildly and can do a million squats in a row with those chunky legs. He’s got the biggest 6-toothed grin and lights up when he sees Dada, Mama, or Bubba <<3 of his words. He also signs more, milk, food, and I’m pretty sure he said ball yesterday. When it’s warm (not too often in this climate), the sides of his white-blond hair curl up and I call him “Mozo the Clown”. Other nicknames include “Mosey Bear”, “Mo Bear”, “Little Mo Mack”, and simply, “Mo”. When we lie on the floor, he sees that as an invitation to jump and wrestle, pretend-biting any patch of skin where clothing has fallen loose. One of his favorite toys is a toothbrush. Our exercise ball is our lifeline; I used it during labor, but we also bounce him to sleep on it every night. He walks by cruising along the edge of the sofa and the coffee table and will walk all over the house if we hold his hands. As they say in Northern Ireland, he is “all go”! He loves all food, especially berries, and still nurses quite a bit too. He’s just transitioned to one nap during the day, a sure sign that he is indeed growing up.
After all, this first year can’t last forever and God’s presence is so evident in his growing up. Sometimes I wish he’d stay little, but then we wouldn’t get to witness his growth, inside and out.