2 Years Old

Today, my boy is 2 years old.  And I am overjoyed.

I don't know how to explain how grateful I am for this day.  The day that this tiny, fragile little baby took his first breath and changed my life forever.

This day has so much meaning to me, both good and bad.  It carries with it some fearful memories as my son was born only to head into surgery the very next day.  It carries with it some painful wounds of not getting to hold or even see my son when he was born.  The first time I laid eyes on him was a picture my husband took on his phone.  I was the last one of my family and close friends to meet Hudson down in the NICU.  And a part of me still breaks over this.

But on the day of my son's birth, I am so thankful for EVERYTHING this day means to me.  I love reflecting even on the old wounds because with it I see the true miracle of my son.  The miracle of redemption.  Because God redeems all things.  It's an iron clad promise.  And sometimes, just sometimes, we get the privledge of experiencing His redemptive work this side of heaven.

Today I celebrate my little boy, and the fact that this year has been free of surgeries and hospitals and any health scares what-so-ever.  Instead, this year has been full of growing and changing, strengthing and healing.

And when I take the time to reflect on that, suddenly the fact that I didn't meet my son for the first 12 hours of his life doesn't matter.  Suddenly the months I couldn't hold him and take him home pails in comparison to the endless days we get to snuggle and play and dance together now.

I am blessed.  Truly blessed beyond all comparison, for this spunky sweet little life. 

He loves doggies, guitars, pianos, phones, dancing, wrestling, tickling, and playing with friends and family.  He is smart.  Sometimes too smart for his own good.  He is sensitive.  And cares deeply about other people.  He is goofy.  He's got the funniest sense of humor and the greatest deep belly laugh there is.  He is strong.  And keeps a joyful spirit in light of some difficult circumstances.  I admire who is already.  And know there is so much I can learn from him.   

Before I was a mom, I always thought having a child was about teaching them the ways of this world.  I would teach my children about manners, responsibilities, consequences, rewards.  I would teach them their ABC's, colors, numbers, and words.  Most importantly I would teach them about God.  About who He is and what He has done for us.  I had so much knowledge I had gathered over the years.  And I was ready to pass this on to my children.

What I was not prepared for about being a mom, however, was everything my child would teach me.  Here I was thinking I was on top of the world and had it all figured out...and then this tiny little boy came sweeping through my life and showed me how little I really knew.

Hudson, in your 2 years of life you have taught me more than I ever learned in the 24 years I had before you.

You have taught me how to love...really love, with no strings attached.
You've taught me how to surrender...truly surrender my desires, my plans, and my life.
You've taught me how to be patient...humbly waiting for God's timing and not my own.

You've taught me that the things that once mattered so much to me in this world, hold no bearing to the steadfast love, grace, and peace that can only come from our Father.

You've taught me how to be a mom.  You've let me learn and make mistakes and have loved me through it.  We've stuck together through a lot, you and me.  And I love the bond we share because of it.

Hudson, I will never understand how I got so lucky as to be your mom.  You have my heart.  In a way no one else does.

Happy 2nd Birthday precious boy of mine.

Gratitude

It has been awhile.  A long while.  The truth is, I have had no idea what to blog about.

On top of that I go back and forth about whether I even want to continue to have a blog.  When I first started this, it was a way to keep everyone updated on Hudson and the whereabouts of our family.

However, I figured out over the past 6 months of silence, that this blog is less about updating everyone and more about an outlet for my ever streaming and never organized thoughts.  One thing I've learned in my 2 years of motherhood is that organized and processed-out thinking is not to be taken for granted.  It's something that rarely gets to happen, yet is so important for sanity and well-being.

So here I am.  Sitting at Starbucks.  Sipping my chai latte.  Enjoying the time my husband has given me away from the house.  Reading a book that speaks directly to the place I am at in my life.  Remembering why it is I started this blog of mine.  And strongly desiring to pay it a visit.

Because lately, I have been stuck.  My thoughts have halted.  My mind has been consumed.  My soul uninspired.  And my self-pity at an all time high.  Until I picked up this book.

And I realized that maybe, just maybe, I have a lot to be grateful for.

I must admit that since moving to Lodi 8 months ago for Clint's job I have been feeling pretty sorry for myself.  My list of grievances has been large.

I am lonely in this new town.
Clint gets to go to work everyday doing something he loves, and I stay at home.  ALL DAY.
Hudson is defiant and doesn't listen to anything I say.
I feel like I have no purpose.  Nothing to call MINE.
Hudson still isn't walking.  This means I have to carry him EVERYWHERE.  And he is HEAVY.
Our house is old and dirty.
The neighbors dogs bark too loud.
The shower is too small.
There is nothing to do in Lodi.
I had to move away from my closest friends and family.
I don't want to be here.
Life isn't fair.

I could go on and on and on and on.

This has been my life.  And it is exhausting.  It is exhausting being completely dissatisfied.  And being resentful towards God for not crafting the kind of life I want.  For not doing things according to MY plan.

I must admit that I battle almost daily with feeling like it is unfair that Hudson has Spina Bifida.  It is at times a stumbling block in my relationship with God.  It is what spirals my self-pity.  And it is what makes me feel so alone.  Like no one else in the world has to deal with what I am dealing with.  It is hard for me to go to a park and watch children so freely run around and play.  I feel bitterness rise up, that for everyone else seeing their child walk is a given.  But for me, it has and never will be a guarantee.

I dream of the day when Hudson may run around and play.  And I angrily tell God that I don't approve of the struggles he has allowed my son to have.  That I would have done things so much differently if I were in his shoes.

And just when I think that I am completely justified in my complaints and grievances, something or someone knocks me dead in the face.  And brings me to my knees again.

In her book, One Thousand Gifts, Ann Voskamp speaks exactly to this issue.  Saying that our sin and ultimate fall was, has always been, and always will be, that we aren't satisfied in God and what He gives.  That we hunger for something more, something other.

Does this sound familiar?

The pride of thinking we can do better than God is the very thing that brought Satan down.  The desire to know all the mysteries of God is what caused Adam and Eve to disobey and eat the fruit.  And to this day, I fall into these same sins and somehow think I am in the right.  Time and time again.

What it seems I fail to see, are the thousands of blessings that God bestows upon me daily.  And every time I come to him with my list of complaints I am showing him my ungratefulness for all he has done.

Because the truth is, I will never fully understand why things happen the way that they do.  Why their seems to be injustice, pain, and suffering lurking around every corner.  But it is not my place to figure it out.  It is not my place to question.  It is however, my call and my command, to be thankful in all circumstances.

Because God IS Good.  He has proven this.  Time and time again.

And so, on this day, I choose to be grateful.  I choose to lay down my pride and selfishness, and to thank my Father for saving a wretch like me.  And for bestowing thousands of blessings on this defiant child.

I am grateful for my husband.  The man with whom I have gotten to grow up with.  To walk through many stages of life with by my side.  The most inspirational person I have ever known.  And my very best friend.

I am grateful for this precious son of ours.

For his crinkle-nosed smile.

And sweet giggle

Today, I choose to be grateful for this little family of mine.  For the provision God has had over us.  For leading us to Lodi to serve and minister to His people.  It is never what we would have chosen.  But it is very clearly what He has chosen for us.

And for that,  I am grateful.

Homecoming Day!

Today marks a very special day for our family.

It's one of those days that will never get passed by unnoticed on the calendar.

Because a year ago today, February 11th of 2011...we brought our baby boy home from the hospital for the very first time!!  And it was by far one of the most anticipated and joyous moments of my life.

I will never forget the feeling of holding my boy close to my body for the very first time.  No wires, no tubes, no heavy duty machinery.  Just him and I; skin to skin; mama to son.  I had to wait 9 weeks to give my boy a proper hug, to dress him for the first time, to put him in a car seat, and to sleep under the same roof.  But man, was it worth the wait!

Because on this day, February 11th, none of what we had been through with him in the past months mattered.  This was our fresh start, our new beginning as a family of 3.  Because our boy was FINALLY home!  Right where he belonged.

I still have this picture of Hudson on my phone.  It was taken on the drive home from the hospital.  It was so fun to watch him look out the window and experience the world around him.  He didn't cry once.  Just sat there with wide open eyes, taking it all in.  He had never seen the outdoors, never experienced the sun or wind on his face.  Everything was brand new to him.  And it was incredible to watch him experience it.  This moment was so special to me, and always will be.  Which is why I just can't seem to replace this photo on my phone with any other one, even though it's extremely outdated and he now looks a little more like this...

(this was the first time HE dressed himself.  Only he put on daddy's shirt instead of his own)

So on this homecoming day I will share with you all, once again, the video Clint made of Hudson that we showed at his 'Welcome Home' Party.  Because watching this is a constant reminder of the blessings we experienced through a very special little boy.

(If you get squeamish about seeing babies hooked to hospital equipment or seeing some scars from surgery, don't watch the video!  It has become common to us, but I get that it's not for a lot of people.  Consider yourself warned :)

http://www.shamblinfamily.com/Shamblin_Family/Blog/Entries/2011/2/14_NICU_Video.html

We love you Hudson, on this day, and every one after.  Happy Homecoming Day!

Days Like This

There are many days that go by lately that are very ordinary.  I don't think about much except for how to get the laundry done, and the house picked up, and food down Hudson.  And on these very ordinary days I forget about the fact that my son has Spina Bifida.  I forget the months he spent in the NICU not so long ago.  And I forget about how far he has come since he came home screaming every time we moved him.

Then there are days when I can think of nothing except the fact that Hudson has Spina Bifida.  These are the days that I see drops of water on his head and think that it is spinal fluid leaking out of his incision site.  Not really an ordinary response for most moms, but for me, it is something I experienced many times with him in the NICU, and apparently still worry about.  On these days I get frustrated that Hudson is not even close to walking.  I watch his little legs fight and struggle and wonder if he will ever learn to stand.  I dream about the day he is able to run and play in our backyard and I doubt that it will ever come true.  And on these days, I drop to my knees and pray that God will heal my son.  I pray that Hudson will be able to stand, and walk, and run.  That our efforts every day to strengthen his body will come to fruition.

And then there are days like today.  Days when I remember how far he has come in his first year of life.  Days where he has the strength to sit up on his knees for the first time without having to hold on to anything to help him get there.  Days where he crawls up to me, lifts his hands high in the air, sits up on his own, and shouts for joy.

And on days like this I am humbled and brought to tears.  Because this is who my son is.  He is a fighter.  And he continues to press on and celebrate his victories, no matter how small they may seem to anyone else.  He doesn't give up.  He doesn't doubt.  He just keeps moving forward one baby step at a time.  On days like this I realize that nothing else matters.  It doesn't matter whether he will stand, or walk, or run.  It just doesn't matter.  Because that's not what makes him who he is.  On days like this I enjoy my son for exactly who God created him to be.  Nothing more and nothing less.  And I celebrate that.  With him.

It's on days like today, that I drop to my knees and pray for nothing else but more days like this.