Grief and Relief

 It has been a strange couple of days at the Cash house. 

We miss the girls. I specifically miss the way that the littlest would whisper "Hi. Hi. Hi." through her pacifier when I woke her up from her nap (and how she'd likewise greet EVERY PERSON ON THE PLANET). I miss the way she would melt into my body in the rocking chair, holding my arm with the sweetest little death grip. I miss the way the oldest would flutter upstairs to get dressed in the morning (she never did just walk) with her mermaid hair bouncing behind her. I miss her general excitement about everything - outings, food, information, and new people. All of the mothering energy I'd created for them now has no place to land - I can't direct, soothe, encourage or teach them anymore. The first night, I laid awake wondering if they were sleeping okay in their new beds. Phoenix and Jericho have both, more than once, volunteered that they miss the girls. Our life and home were SO FULL and now there is a void: it's less like a cavernous hole, and more like a wispy cloud of lost experience. We don't really know what to do with ourselves.

BUT, the four of us have been breathing much deeper. I can't even explain the general feeling of health that's fallen on our home ... everyone just seems to be functioning from a place of peace for the first time in months. I know it is partially logistics - no toddlers, no diapers, less laundry, less fighting, fewer attitudes, etc. - but there is something more. Previously, being at home was largely about surviving, just making sure everyone was alive, fed, and occasionally bathed. But for the last few days, I've been enjoying my home and my kids. Slow meals, quiet mornings, lots of snuggles, no appointments or visits or paperwork, long bathtimes and lots of eye contact are small graces that compile into huge joy. I think my kids subconsciously shrank to make space for A&A, and I didn't notice it until this week when I've watched their little souls expand again. They are holding longer conversations, living more freely, asking to read more books, finding themselves more frequently on our laps and in our arms. Being a family of four again has been so deliriously sweet. 

I just keep thinking about the significance of my two hands. I'm sure God has a myriad of reasons for creating our bodies in specific ways, and I certainly don't claim to understand those motivations. But, very practically, having two hands means that I can carry more than one thing. So, when it seems contradictory to feel two very opposite emotions at the same time, my hands seem to mirror my soul's ability to stand decidedly in both joy and pain. It's grounding to look at my physical fingers and imagine them grasped around separate experiences, validating my dichotomous experience of losing 'our' girls.

In those same two metaphorical hands, I hold the truths that (1) the girls were a genuine blessing to our lives and (2) the girls were an exhausting drain on our lives. I was feeling guilty about how much I'm enjoying this new season until my counselor kindly reminded me that fostering puts an amazing amount of strain on even the healthiest, most faithful families. Which is why, for the moment, we won't be accepting any new placements. We are going to give our family soil some time to remineralize before we even discuss re-opening our home. 

We are so grateful for all the people that have carried us through the last eight months - we would not have survived this experience without the support and prayers of friends both near and far. And PLEASE PLEASE continue to pray for the girls! Pray for them to powerfully bond with their new parents, to settle easily into new routines/places/therapies/etc, for a case without major hiccups or delays and for them to trust Jesus as the restorative force for their lives. 

Sustenance for the Journey

Illustration by Jago

I am a weary foster momma.
I think some of that weariness is universal to parenthood, and we are caring for four very small kiddos at one time. Having stair-step siblings in this particular age bracket is an insane undertaking.
But adding two foster kids to our team didn't just mean two more small kids ... the slew of fostering logistics is overwhelming.
For example, our fostering schedule this week involves:
- Monday: a potential birthmom visit, which was up in the air until the last minute
- Today: a speech evaluation at the local school
- Wednesday: a home visit from our private agency
- Thursday: a home visit from CPS
- Friday: play therapy and a home visit from the girls' attorney
Throw in visits from CASA, speech therapy, occupational therapy, preschool and all the paperwork, and it becomes a full-time job.
And, not only does fostering dominate our schedule, but it also dominates my thought-life.
"Am I getting them the interventions they need?"
"Where is their mom? Should I start calling hospitals?"
"How much should I push for their best, and how much should I permit their worst?"
"How do I keep them healthy without constant food battles?"
"How can I help heal them when there is so much unknown?"
"Is this four-year-old behavior, or is this trauma behavior?"
"What is our life going to look like in three months?"

To be honest, I feel like I'm drowning -- I was a confident swimmer until I decided to land myself in the middle of a typhoon. And all arenas of my life are sinking too. I'm less available to my forever kiddos, I'm less prepared as a home school mom, I'm less stable as a wife (ha!), I'm less committed in my ministries, I'm less diligent in other responsibilities, I'm less present in my friendships and I have less bandwidth to love/serve outside our home.

I want to quit.
But God won't let me quit.

As much as I want to be frustrated at God for keeping me in a place that feels so hard and thankless and desperate, God keeps being near and kind.

I've been reading The Chronicles of Narnia out loud to Phoenix at night. A month ago, when we were still in 'The Magician's Nephew,' I could barely finish reading because my eyes and voice were brimming with tears. Digory, the main character, is standing before Aslan, the creator and leader of Narnia. A series of unwise mistakes have caused Digory to bring with him a person of great evil into the fledgling world. Aslan is giving Digory a task to help save/protect the land, but Digory is distracted with worry about his mother, who is dying at home.

"'But please, please -- won't you -- can't you give me something that will cure Mother?' Up till then he had been looking at the Lion's great feet and the huge claws upon them; now, in his despair, he looked up at its face. What he saw surprised him as much as anything in his whole life. For the tawny face was bent down near his own and (wonder of wonders) great shining tears stood in the Lion's eyes. They were such big, bright tears compared with Digory's own that for a moment he felt as if the Lion must really be sorrier about his Mother than he was himself."

Aslan doesn't instantly heal Digory's mother, nor does he release him from the task at hand. Digory is expected to carry his own pain forward into obedience. But Aslan is fully present with him in his pain. While our two girlies surely carry the greatest sadness in this season, I have my own legitimate grief. But (wonder of wonders) my roaring lion of a God is bent near to me, shedding tears on my behalf.

Over breakfast, we read a Bible story to our kiddos, and then a page from Thoughts to Make Your Heart Sing. The other morning, I read this (which references the illustration above):

"God's Spirit is called the 'Comforter.' Does it make you think of a nice comfy quilt - all cozy and warm? Oh dear.

In the Bayeux tapestry of 1066, there's a knight on a horse and the caption reads: 'Bishop Odo comforts his troops.'Is Bishop Odo giving them nice fluffy quilts? No. Look! He's prodding them from behind with a stick! NOT comfy.

But Odo is spurring them on, encouraging them, urging them to keep going and not give up. Because comfort in the Bible doesn't mean 'to make comfy.' It means 'to send help.'

When we want to give up, when we are afraid, God sends his spirit - the Comforter - to make us strong, to give us courage, to lift us up."

My latent desires for a predictable, comfortable life are being beaten out of me by the fostering process. God doesn't comfort me with retreat or rest, no matter how much I beg for relief. Instead, God is asking me to lean into the pain, to put aside self-preservation, to trust God with my family and to keep pushing Kingdom lines forward.

I have the wine of divine tears and the bread of divine encouragement as sustenance for the journey. Those traveling mercies are yours too, whether you happen to be on the same road or have your own path of exhausting obedience.

Redefining Motherhood

Up to this point, I've been quiet on this blog about the hardships of foster parenting. Honestly, it's because I believe fostering is good, important work and I don't want to scare anyone away from its particular graces because of its particular pains.
But I've decided that it's important for me to own the emotions of this experience, and to tell the truth about things that felt really dark until I processed them with God.
So here's the brutal truth: I feel almost zero affection for my foster daughters.
There are a lot of articles circulating on the internet about how the extensive paperwork, the regular intrusions, and the sketchy system make fostering difficult. There are plenty of people that tell the truth about how fostering blows up your family, incites difficult sibling relationships, requires endless empathy and wears you to the bone. So I saw all of that coming.
But because so many vocal foster parents proclaim deep love for their kids and how they dread birth parent reunification (even if they support it), I just assumed that I would bond quickly and easily with our girls.
They've been with us for four months, and I still don't feel particularly attached to either of them.
So I've felt guilty. MAJORLY GUILTY. Everyone else on the planet seems to easily figure this out, and I've been over here floundering in my efforts to muster up the feels that come so easily with my other two. I've wanted to quit more than once, just because I feel like the girls deserve more than I seem to be able to offer.
Until recently, I didn't realize how much of my innate definition of mothering was reliant on affection. I thought being a mom meant being crazy about your kids, because that's such a huge part of my relationship with Phoenix and Jericho. I think their antics are endearing, that their sweet toes are adorable, that their sleep-sweaty bodies are a treasure. I could stare at them for hours, and that kind of soul-deep tenderness is incredibly energizing. When they are a hot mess, all the warmth that burns for them in my bones makes it easier (though not easy) to teach and love them in spite of themselves.
I just don't have that with the foster girlies. The first time I clipped our four-year-old's toenails was a major exercise in self-discipline. Their little smells (you know, the kind that mommas drink in deeply?) kind of gross me out. And even though they are generally cool kids, the times that I really enjoy them are few and far between.
But, after a meaningful conversation with Josh this weekend, I'm standing a little taller before God and asking for a new definition of motherhood. Turns out, God never asked me to have warm-fuzzy feelings. Even Karyn Purvis, the guru of attachment parenting, says "It's okay not to feel love for your child right now."

Instead, as a mother (biological, adoptive AND foster), God has asked me to:
EQUIP my kids.
ENCOURAGE my kids.
ENGAGE with my kids.
And, most importantly, to INTRODUCE my kids to Jesus, so they can be loved perfectly (with abundant affection) by the tender God who created them.

Seeing the job description written down leaves me sobered by the gravity of my role.  But because these tasks are God-assigned, they can be Spirit-fueled. Instead of trying to fabricate feeling, I'm asking God to enable choices that serve Kingdom purposes instead of my own misguided notion of what I'm 'supposed' to feel.

I may be the only foster mom struggling with affection, but, just in case I'm not, I hope this post leaves you feeling less lonely. This is hard, holy work, and all of our imperfection and insufficiency just leaves more space for the glory of God.

My Beach Babe

She was wearing a mismatched napping outfit - white pajama bottoms with pink pigs and a gray bird t-shirt. Her tiny toenails were pink from a recent pedicure, though her fingernails were already scraggly bits of purple from her bad habit of picking them. Her hair - oh her hair! - was an amplified version of its normal self, made extra curly by the humidity and extra crazy by the nap. A little larabar-mustache completed her look. It was the perfect package for her beautiful, sweet, quirky soul.

No plans. No phone. No baby brother. No imminent errands or packing.

Just us.

On the beach.

Her love language is quality time, just like her daddy. Unfortunately, in the last two weeks, I haven't had the margin to time-love her. She has heard a lot of "Hang on, baby" and "Not right now, baby" and "Would you like to watch some Daniel Tiger?" in the last two weeks.  Not something I'm particularly proud of or ashamed of - a moving momma has to do what she has to do.

But our last few days in Georgia were really rough for her. There were a lot of tears and quite a few meltdowns and plenty of defiance. She saw her whole world get packed up in boxes, and I know our stress and preoccupation was not lost on her.

I've been aching for some moments to just be with her.

Her body was still heavy with sleep as I carried her out to the beach, but it only took a few seconds of sea air to waken her. The temperature was perfectly neutral, the sun occasionally emerging from friendly clouds, and the water was warm. We started with no agenda, but one quickly emerged with her first exclamation of: "Oh look, Mom! A shell!"

And so it went for an hour. Every time she discovered a tiny shell in the sand, she lit up with the same excitement. Soon I had a sandy hand full of shells, because each of her discoveries quickly became a gift to me. And she said 'Mom' over and over and over, as though we both needed to be reminded of the importance of our relationship.

Because words are my love language, I try to be intentional about repeating important things to her when the moment is appropriate. One such thing I regularly say is, "I am yours and you are mine. I have access to your heart, and you have access to mine." In this stage of her life, she usually responds with a mischievous grin and the correction that, "I am MINE and you are YOURS" (I'm bracing myself for more abrasive reactions in the future). I know she is just being silly, but sometimes that rings truer than I'd like to admit. Sometimes I just don't make my heart (which beats loudly with love for her) available in the way I'd like to.

So I am thankful today for a God whose grace is fully accessible to me and sufficient for me.

And for salty, sandy, sacred moments with my girl.

Another Momma's Day

Apparently Mother's Day makes me really reflective (see my posts from the last two years HERE and HERE).
While each year makes me muse, my heart-eyes seem to see motherhood from different angles with the passing of time.
This year, I feel like a woman adorned. Not because of any particular temporal finery, but because my mothering crown has grown and changed this year. My son is steel and my daughter is diamond - both strong, brilliant, sharp and valuable. I hold my head high with great pride, fully aware of the great treasure entrusted to me. And I am humbled and moved by the kindness of God in fulfilling my longings for a second child. I feel markedly beautiful, perhaps even regal, when holding my children - I am thankful that God saw me fit to crown.
While I am deeply grateful for my precious adornment, it is heavy and slightly battered. This was a tough year for me as a mama, and I don't think I've emerged unscathed. Hopeful and healed, yes ...but not unscathed. Losing a baby in October left a grief-stain that has permanently settled into the fibers of my heart. And I cannot help but mourn the loss that Jordan will feel so acutely on Sunday. I was a hot mess in the Mother's Day card aisle at Target, where I desperately opened every single card, trying to find something appropriate to send to the mother of my child. How does one simultaneously acknowledge great joy and great suffering? I gave up and picked a blank card, penning some words that just seemed lifeless compared to the well of emotion I have carried with me this week. If it was in my power to skim over one calendar day, I would make Mother's Day pass as a whisper to spare her even an ounce of extra grief. Our two mama-hearts are more intricately tied than I anticipated, and her wounds feel (in some small way) like my own.
When it came time to pick our wedding bands a few years ago, I gravitated towards a thin, hammered metal ring. Josh was so hesitant to buy it ... he was sure I would change my mind. But it was a very intentional decision: I wanted a reminder that I was entering into an imperfect marriage, and thus committing to rough days and seasons as well as beautiful ones. Oh the heights and depths we have experienced in the last three years - my rings ring as a perfect symbol.
Motherhood seems to follow the same pattern - I am both elated and exhausted. Thrilled and thrashed.
Willing and worn. But I wouldn't have it any other way. 

Jericho's Birthday

It's all the rage these days to write birth stories … and I am still glad that I recorded all the details of Phoenix's entrance into the world.
Fortunately for the squeamish among you, this birth story includes absolutely zero birth details. Because  we don't know them.

Jordan's due date was 1/1, but that date passed uneventfully. It was really funny to get a taste of what it's like to wait for your child to make their entrance; most mothers experience the impatience of the last few weeks, but that never happened for us with Phoenix. I was pretty much glued to my phone, which was probably obnoxious to everyone around me. I would even set it right next to my yoga mat during class that week, totally unconcerned about whether I would end up ruining someone else's shavansana.
My birthday is 1/2, so I was anxious to see if I would end up sharing a birthday with our baby. Honestly, people usually forget my birthday because of it's proximity to the holidays, and it usually goes largely uncelebrated. So I breathed a selfish prayer that we wouldn't have to share our special days, and God was kind in holding off his birth for one extra day.

Everything actually started on 1/3 as I was leaving my yoga class at 5:30 pm. My social worker texted me:
"J went to the doctor this afternoon and the dr has sent her to the hospital to see if they will induce. If they don't it may mean that her due date is off because apparently the baby is measuring a little small. She is going to let Cindy [the pregnancy counselor] know what they say at the hospital."
And then a few minutes later:
"Cindy said that J is getting admitted to the hospital!"

After a phone call to figure out whether we should head to the hospital (since inductions can take a really long time, as I learned while watching a dear friend navigate her daughter's birth this year), we kicked things into high gear. At this point I was at home, getting dinner for Phoenix and Josh. I headed out to Costco to buy some flowers for Jordan, and left Josh at home to pack his clothes and get Phoenix ready for her first sleepover. As I mentioned in an earlier post, Sean and Cassie Myers were so good to let Phoenix hang with them while we went to welcome our child to the world. Once I was home, we frantically loaded everything up (except we forgot the baby stuff, including the car seat -- go figure), and headed out the door. We dropped Phoenix off, and headed to Gwinnett Medical. We met our social  worker extraordinaire, Catie, in the lobby and waited for the hospital to figure out where they were going to put us. I've heard some horror stories about adoptive parent accommodations, so we were really thankful for how well Gwinnett Medical cared for us. We got our own room in back corner of labor and delivery -- it was large, quiet and perfect for the two days that we spent there.

While we got settled in our room, Catie went to check on Jordan. During the pre-birth adoption meetings, Jordan had expressed that she did NOT want to meet us. This was disappointing, but totally understandable -- if she needed to distance herself in order survive emotionally, we were more than willing to do whatever would serve her best. But something changed at the hospital, because Catie came back and told us that Jordan wanted to meet us. This was simultaneously exciting and terrifying - I had never considered what I would say or do, not to mention we both looked like total bums (I was still in my yoga clothes, and Josh was hangin' in his sweatpants when we rushed out of the house).
But we quickly surrendered the moment to God, and went with our social worker to meet Jordan, DJ (the birthfather) and James (Jordan's current boyfriend).

It was amazing. I am infinitely thankful that we had those few moments to meet them. Nothing miraculous transpired; we chatted about how she was feeling, what she's studying, and other small-talkish topics. But the intangibles were priceless. We got a feel for her understated, laid-back, fun personality. We got a few moments to study their faces, so that we can recognize those details as they emerge in Jericho. And we got to be the ones to tell her that the baby's middle name would Jordan, communicating to her (in such a small way) how grateful we were/are for her great love and sacrifice.

And it was fun to hear from them why they chose us. The very last page of our profile book (which you can see HERE) has a picture of me grabbing Josh's butt.

When we initially submitted our book draft to our agency, this picture was apparently a great source of controversy in the office - several social workers thought we should take it out. Catie had never told us that, so it made the cut. And that picture was the reason that they chose us … DJ said that it showed we had personality. That was so fun to hear - most of the example books that the agency had shown us were largely the same, so I worked really hard to make sure our profile book showcased our family's individuality.

Catie skillfully ended the conversation, and we went back to our room to wait. We watched a lot of "Say Yes to the Dress" (I had another lady on my side when it came to programming selection), snacked a lot, and chatted. We really could not have asked for a better social worker; Catie has been supportive, encouraging, kind, funny, and a truth-teller. It was fun to sit and catch up with her, see her latest sewing projects, talk adoption/foster care, and hang out.

Around 11, Catie went to check on Jordan again. She came back quickly, reporting that she had heard a lot of screaming and so she stayed away. Not long afterwards, we found out that we had a son! He was born at 11:04, and it turns out that Catie had actually heard his first cry!

About 20 minutes after his birth, several nurses came to introduce him to us.
The most euphoric moment? When the nurse asked his name, and we spoke his name over him for the first time.

"It's Jericho."

Catie took on the role of paparazzi, so we have so many great pictures of our first minutes with him. I will let the pictures tell this part of the story!

Waiting to meet our baby

First moments

So much love!

Sad face

First kangaroo (I'm a pro at this!)

First meal

The scene (also, this picture distorted the nurse … she didn't actually look so deformed)

Awkward hand-off

Daddy heaven

First bath

Clean, styled and swaddled

There you have it! It was such a beautiful whirlwind. We don't have any details about his birth, except that it was vaginal and she did have an epidural (but too late in the game to make much of a difference).

And thus began our love-drunk, sleep-deprived days as parents to two.
I will blog again soon to share more about our early days as adoptive parents, including our adoption procedure, bonding, etc.

Love to you all!

He's Here!

Baby boy was born late Friday night, 1/3 (exactly one year after we started officially waiting).

He came straight to our room at Gwinnett Medical, and we've been mesmerized ever since. Seriously … he slept for four hours stretches last night, but I laid awake just staring at him.

I wish that I could fill this post with all his stats, millions of pictures and his name.
But we won't.

For the time being, we are only stewards of this child. His birth mother plans to sign surrenders today, but she still has a full 10 days to change her mind (her window ends Jan. 14th at 5:00 PM).

There is so much that God taught me during Phoenix's treacherous early days that translate so perfectly to our current circumstances. She was fighting for her life, and I couldn't even hold her. There was actually nothing I could do. But God settled my spirit with the truth that she never even belonged to me … she belongs to Him. And I can trust Him implicitly with my children. Even now - after 2.5 years of loving her, making decisions for her, and teaching her - she still doesn't belong to me. She has always been His, and will always be His; He has just been kind enough to entrust her to us. What an deeply important and weighty charge!

And, in the same way, God has entrusted this sweet boy to us. It may be only for 2 days, or 10 days, or his lifetime … for whatever length of time he is with us, we are deeply committed to him in love and prayer.

We are so overwhelmingly thankful for the birthmother's decision to let us steward her child - she is brave and selfless beyond our wildest imaginations. But we also want to honor the time she has to consider her decision, and thus won't divulge any more details until those 10 days pass.

Trust me when I say that holding back is hard on us … we are bursting with parental pride! So, if we make it to Jan.14, expect a serious onslaught of pictures!

The best way that you can support us right now is through prayer.
Pray for powerful bonding.
Pray for Phoenix as she transitions into sisterhood.
Pray for peace as we wait.
Pray for our families (who are losing their minds with excitement to meet him, but have to wait).

But, most of all, pray for Jordan. My momma heart is wildly broken her. Pray the nearness of God and clarity of His will.

We are still at the hospital for now, and don't really need anything (especially because Sean and Cassie Myers have been so generous to watch our firebird for us). We will keep you updated as we head home.

So much love!

Good Tidings of Great Joy

It's been a long year of waiting since I wrote about advent last year.
And a lot has changed. God has greatly grown and humbled me, and shifted my perspective.

This weekend, during the Christmas services at our church, I was haunted by a phrase I read in "Count of Monte Cristo" last week (side note -- that book is freakin' amazing. read it). 
Edmond Dantes is engaged to be married, and "various rumors were afloat to the effect that the owners of the Pharaon [the ship on which Dantes is employed] had promised to attend the nuptial feast; but all seemed unanimous in doubting that an act of such rare and exceeding condescension could possibly be intended."

Rare and exceeding condescension. Perfect turn of phrase to describe the incarnation.

While singing the familiar lyrics "Long lay the world in sin and error pining / 'til he appeared, and the soul felt it's worth," I was freshly overwhelmed by the love of God. The exceedingly great condescension of Jesus gifting himself to the world made me feel my worth.

This year, instead of focusing on the ache of waiting for our second child, God helped me to fix my heart-eyes on a child whose coming is sure. The Christ-child, my redeemer, my lover, my savior ... there is no question on when He will arrive. He has come.
So this weekend, I could honestly say that I was greatly contented with the gifts I've already received.

And then I got a phone call today.
The same pregnancy counselor that called to tell me H had changed her mind called to tell me that we've been chosen again.

This birth momma, Jordan, is due on January 1st ... that's next Wednesday, people. If all goes well, we will meet our second child in the next two weeks. And it's a surprise ... we don't know the gender!

I am so thankful for the great support that we were shown in the wake of H changing her mind, and that is why we've decided to share the news this time. So many people in our extended network have been on their knees for us, have provided generously for us, and have extended the most thoughtful expressions of care. If all goes well, we want to publically celebrate this work of God in our family. And if Jordan changes her mind, we will need you to hold us as we bleed.

Thank you for walking with us! What an amazing Christmas gift!

3 Gifts - Part 1

1. In the weeks after we were chosen as prospective adoptive parents, we bought a gift for our birthmother (H, as I will refer to her). We were told not to buy her anything expensive (as that could be manipulative), so I started hunting on Etsy for something small and meaningful. As strange as it sounds, I asked the Holy Spirit to help me find the perfect piece of jewelry. It mattered greatly to me because, at some point, she was going to be left with this gift instead of her child. I wanted it to remind her of the baby while still being ambiguous to strangers, and to be something she might pick for herself. I ended up at THIS shop, because the pieces were reasonably priced and looked like something H might like. As soon as I saw this necklace, I knew it was perfect.

No name or initials, because she had chosen a different name ... she was going to put "Alexandria" on the first birth certificate, and we would put Sloane on the certificate when the adoption finalized. Ambiguous, but a way to carry the memory of her October-baby close to her heart. When it came in the mail, I was horrified to read on the invoice that it symbolized infant loss. How did I miss that? But, still convinced that God had settled this as the right gift, I packed it up in our stuffed-to-the-brim diaper bag to bring to the hospital.
Needless to say, the irony of this gift was not lost on me. Someone did lose a baby ... and it was me. It is my reminder of the October-baby I never held, never met, never brought home.
When I finally got around to bringing baby things back into the house after returning from Warner Robins, I hesitantly pulled this gift out of the diaper bag. I wanted to break, burn and bury the stupid necklace. But, as the greatest act of faith I've mustered in the last three weeks, I put it in our "remember" jar. It houses reminders of how God has worked in our family (for more details, read HERE) .... and, as impossible as this currently seems, someday I will be able to see our fateful trip to Warner Robins as a part of God's perfect plan for us.

For whatever reason, Karl Marx's accusation that religion is the "opiate of the masses" has always been unsettling to me. More than once, I have wondered whether I merely use God to placate my tumultuous heart. But losing a baby has forever settled this question for me.
I've seen Josh on a lot of opiates/narcotics in the past two weeks because of his kidney stone. While they did not solve his pain problem, they brought a certain degree of numbness and escape.
God is a terrible opiate. I very violently feel the pain of loss, and faith does not afford me the luxury of escape. I must have more focus, feeling and fervor because of the road ahead .... numbness will not do. And, while I feel the peace of his presence, the pain remains.

Bittersweet Mother's Day

"Sweet is nice enough, but bittersweet is beautiful, nuanced, full of depth and complexity. Bittersweet is courageous, gutsy, earthy." - Shauna Niequist

It has been a day of uncharted emotional territory for me. I am simultaneously celebrating and mourning. I woke this morning to the sweet sounds of my baby lady talking in the other room, but it was only moments before I felt that familiar ache to meet my promised child.

I was well celebrated this weekend. I got a beautiful locket, didn't cook, indulged in some good books, played in the sun with Phoenix and ate WAY too many sweets -- my husband cared so well for me. When we were going to bed last night, he told me that I am a better mother than he could have imagined for his children.
It was perfect.

But tears were inevitable. I am ready to be a mom again. Ready for that freshly-knit smell, the weightless snuggles, the sleepy smiles. I'm ready for bigger piles of laundry, more diapers and sleepless nights. I'm even ready for that what-the-hell-am-I-doing feeling ... because I am learning how to mother out of the generous grace of God. I am ready, but the wait continues.

It was kind of God to meet with me in worship this morning - we sang a song that was oh-so-dear to me when I was pregnant with Phoenix. Two years ago, when I trembled at the motherhood task set before me, God used that song to dispel fear in my heart. He helped me then to trust his timing, and the song brought me right back to that place of raw dependence. I am so thankful that I can trust my heart to God while I wait.

I am making the choice to prefer our path ... not just to accept it, but to prefer it. The atmosphere of my heart is bittersweet, but it is building a beautiful, nuanced, deep, complex, courageous, gusty, earthy love for this child.

And it helps that I have the coolest kid on the planet to keep me busy in the mean time.
Seriously, how awesome is she?

  

Keep this momma's heart in your prayers ... I want just enough ache to keep me on my knees. 

Hopefully next year I will get to hold both my babies!

Advent

'Waiting patiently in expectation is the foundation of the spiritual life."
- Simone Weil

Waiting on our second child is lending such depth to my experience of advent this year. I am honestly not sure I even have words for it yet. I just know that waiting with anticipation is one of the more complicated spiritual lessons I have every learned. Oh the waiting is hard ... my heart is groaning the way Paul describes in Romans 8. And I acknowledge that our wait has barely begun - we may have years ahead of us. But I wait with victory assured, clinging to a promise. It is a strange thing to be sure of the end while totally unsure of how it will be accomplished.

I have just the tiniest taste of what Israel must have felt in waiting for the coming Messiah. They knew He was coming, just not when or how. And I'm sure they couldn't have been more surprised by the way in which God chose to keep His promises.

Simone Weil was wise to include the word 'patiently' in her aforementioned description of the spiritual life. God is sowing patience into our hearts as we walk this journey, and I am thankful for it. It would come naturally for me to grow in bitterness as the days pass, beginning to doubt God's faithfulness in orchestrating our family. But, if we allow those seeds of patience to blossom, we can "live with greater confidence even though nothing has changed" (Tripp).

I am hoping that remaining days leading up to Christmas will afford me many more opportunities to learn what it means to wait well. And I am exceedingly thankful that God is faithful to His word, both in gifting my Savior and bringing our child.

An important side note:
We have rescheduled our home visit for December 14th ... that's just over a week away! God has been so good in providing for us, both through some unexpected gifts and a lot of unexpected extra work. Pray that some checks we are expecting come promptly, so that we don't have to reschedule again.
Also, GET PUMPED ... we sure are! It will be so encouraging to get that milestone under our belts and to get our profile book into the hands of potential birthmothers!

Known

Sometimes our most thrilling personal adventures are also the most alienating.
And that is how I currently feel about adoption.

I feel like we are on this amazing adventure and, because it's indescribably difficult already, it yields a deep-in-my-soul kind of joy and anticipation. And other people seem to totally miss that.

I was in the copy room at work the other day, chatting with a co-worker about how lucky we are to be in the parenting minority that has never experienced projectile poop. I told him that I'm bracing myself for the worst with Cash baby #2 ... there is no way we will be that lucky twice. He turned in excitement and asked me if I'm pregnant, to which I responded with a resounding "no, no no." And then I told him that Josh and I are in the process of adopting.
He turned back to the copier and distractedly said, "That's cool." No questions, no excitement. Maybe I was reading into his response -- it would not be the first time that I over thought something.
But my heart sunk. Is the process of adopting not comparable to being pregnant? Is it not equally exciting to add to our family through someone else's womb?

This is the loneliness of my heart for this season. I am (quite literally) an expectant mother, but few people acknowledge me as such. And when they hear about our journey, they usually respond with confusion, an understandable ignorance, or unintentional dismissal.
We are talking about baby names, slowly collecting sweet little gifts and dreaming about our child. But people must assume that adoptive parents don't have this season of preparation/expectation like traditionally pregnant families. No congratulations offered until there is a baby in our arms, I guess.

In trying to manage my own heart in this season, I am so thankful to be understood and known at the foot of the cross. I am thankful to serve a God who is oh-too-familiar with the concept of waiting for His adoptive children to land in His arms.
I can't imagine how people walk this path without the gracious, tender presence of the Father's adoptive heart.
I want to forever remember this season of my journey ... because I can't be the only person who feels profoundly alienated in some sphere of life. I want to remember how God's heart beats with my own, so that I can sympathetically lead the alienated to the Omniscient One, the One who knows that which otherwise falls on deaf ears.

And, though misunderstood, I will remain expectant.

Visual Lethargy

I have been reading the book "Dangerous Calling" (Paul David Tripp) for a project, and keep finding myself with a lot of things to say. This book has been quite the conundrum for me. I don't actually enjoy reading it -- largely because of the author's writing style, but also because the structure isn't intuitive and the purely diagnostic tone can be extremely frustrating. It has, however, prompted a good deal of self-reflection. Even in moments of severe disagreement with the author, I find myself forced to re-examine my motivations and my posture before God.
I can't say conclusively whether I recommend it or not ... in part because I haven't finished it, and also because my actual analysis gets muddled in my strong reactions (both positive and negative) to the content. Hopefully I can decide at some point.

I will spare you the majority of my thoughts ... most of them are either wildly personal or tinged with serious exasperation.
Here is the one tidbit I will share, starting with a passage from the book.

"Artists talk of the the dynamic of visual lethargy, which means that the more you see something, the less you actually see it. On that drive to work the first day, you are conscious of all the sights and sounds. You notice that beautiful grove of ancient trees and that cool modern duplex on the corner. But by your twentieth trip, you've quit noticing, and you're wishing the traffic would move faster so you could get to work, for Pete's sake! Something has happened to you that seems inevitable but is not good. You have quit seeing, and in you failure to see, you have quit being moved and thankful. The beauty that once attracted you is still there to see, buy you don't see it, and you cannot celebrate what you fail to see."

My gut reaction?
"This concept is totally foreign to me as a mother."

Not that every moment of every day I go about glorying in the wonder of my child ... at all. Sometimes all I see in her is a mess, or a tantrum, or a timer counting down the minutes until she goes to bed.
But not a day goes by where I don't have at least one awe-moment. Where I really see her ... her sweet soul, her feisty spirit, her beautiful person. And this is not something I have to muster up, but rather a spontaneous response to being near to her.

[Brief interlude for pictures of aforementioned baby ... pictures that I can't stop looking at. And sending to people. And making Josh look at.]

This one is a teaser from our family picture session with Kevin Scheidt

Ok, so back to what I was saying.

So I started to wonder ... why would I have visual lethargy with some things (like my drive to work), but not with my daughter or husband?

It's because they are dynamic. Two weeks ago, Phoenix would just sit and watch me play patty cake. Now she joins in clapping. Two weeks ago, Josh would have gagged at the idea of eating tofu. But he has eaten it twice this week and LIKED IT (what!?).
I keep falling in love with Josh and Phoenix every day because I have never discovered the depths of who they are. Even if I were close, they are both constantly changing. Real loving means braving uncharted territory everyday, which (though sometimes scary or intimidating) always involves miraculous treasures. No day passes without at least a millisecond of awe.

I have always been drawn to the unchanging character of God. He is faithful, and that truth gives me strength to cling to Him even when my world seems to spin out of control.

But today, I am thankful also for the dynamic spirit of God. I am thankful that it is impossible to have visual lethargy when one's spiritual eyes are fixed on Christ. I am thrilled anew that I have only a grain of knowledge about God, and that He will spend the rest of eternity surprising me. I am a captive audience, waiting with bated breath to see what He reveals next.
And I am humbled that my story of grace is dynamic as well - that forgiveness is a fresh offering every moment, and that my renewal blooms with a simple prayer.

Still Deciding

I'm still trying to decide how I feel about the future of my blogging endeavors. If I am going to do it, then I want to give it the time, effort, planning and vision that goes into any meaningful media. And I haven't quite nailed down whether it is worth it. Or if I even have anything unique to contribute to the blogging community. Hmm ... who knows.

BUT --
All of this reflection has made me think a lot about what blogs/blogging has meant to me, and I found myself surprisingly thankful. When it comes to forms of expression and media, I am admittedly biased towards books. God himself is on my side ... when he wanted to communicate truth to his people, we got a book (the Bible, in case anyone was confused). And I still love books ... ardently. But blogs have found a place in my life, and, interestingly, in my heart.

Here's why.
1. Because, when I found out that I was very unexpectedly pregnant, I hated the idea of becoming a mom. Obviously, this was something that I would have to get over. My mommyhood-hating remedy? Mom blogs. There was one particular blogger that made motherhood sound like the greatest adventure, and it gave me just an inkling of hope that my life wasn't ruined. And the more blogs I read, the more I believed that maybe being a mother could end up being one of the great joys of my life. And blogs continue to inspire my parenting, to imbue me with creativity and to encourage me in exhaustion. I often find myself thinking "you too?" while reading mommy blogs ... and that solidarity (even with people I've never met) has been indescribably life-giving.
2. Since our budget requires eating at home most nights, I have had to start cooking/meal planning. I don't know how anyone did this before the Internet, but blogs are the reason that we survive on home-cooked meals. When we first got married, Josh ate a lot of tacos and I ate a lot of frozen Trader Joe's entrees. Enter aforementioned baby (and all her expenses) ... now we eat so well at home! We eat a minimally-processed, mostly organic diet -- with A LOT of variety. If eating at home meant casseroles every night, we would've given up months ago. But blogs have given us so many wonderful meals! And I have found online cohorts for my baking addiction; though not good for the budget, baking is always so fun for me!
3. Because blogging about Phoenix's birth/NICU stay was not only informative for all the wonderful people who were praying for us, but it was hugely therapeutic for me. It gave me a recurring reason to sort through my experiences and feelings, and it gave me a taste of leading through personal hardship.
4. Because it is a fun window into other people's worlds! Granted, it is largely the good stuff -  in other words, fashion bloggers don't take pictures in their jammies. Even though it is edited, I love to see the creativity, self-expression, intentionality, devotion and love that exist in the lives of other people. Maybe that makes me a creeper ... or maybe just a people-appreciator.
5. Reading blogs inevitably leads me to wonderful little corners of the internet where I learn new things. I come out of such corners with a new favorite quote or artist, a new word or paradigm, a new craft or new style strategy (anyone else notice that the front-tuck is making a comeback?), a tattoo idea or verse to memorize. And the summation of those little thought-trinkets ends up being a meaningful contribution to my life.

So no matter what decision lies on the horizon for my personal blog, I will always be thankful for blogging!

Mother's Day

I love today.
Not really because it is my chance to get celebrated for being a mom (although I do enjoy that) but because it affords a day of reflection on how truly amazing motherhood is.
I have spent a lot of time this week thinking about this time last year. It was my first mother's day ... I remember wearing the green heels that Josh had bought me as a gift, strutting my pregnant self around, feeling very proud of the task entrusted to me. But I was also still grieving the loss of dreams, feeling admittedly selfish about the pregnancy, and generally fearing the baby-on-the-outside kind of mothering. I loved Phoenix (or TC, as we called her then), but it was a very primal love. I would have died for her, but I didn't have the deep affection or soul connection that I have experienced this past year. I was a mom, but against my own will.
Now, after a year of knowing, loving, kissing, holding, fighting for, praying over, feeding, snuggling, teaching, entertaining and engaging my baby girl, I have truly fallen in love with motherhood. When I think about who I was last year, I feel sorry for that girl. I wish I had understood how Phoenix was going to light up my world, how being a mom (though extremely hard) would become my dearest pursuit.
Motherhood, like any job, has its ups and downs -- except I believe the weightiness of the task affords higher heights and deeper depths than I would ever have imagined. There are days where I literally come to the end of my sanity, but there are days were I feel like I am living in a dream.
Turns out, motherhood is still kind of involuntary for me. There is this little life that daily depends on me, whether I like it or not.
But I also choose motherhood.
I want it ... every day.
Even when it sucks, I can't entertain the idea of my life otherwise. It was truly the kindness of God that steered my life in this direction, and I couldn't be more grateful. I would willing trade anything -- the chance at going back to school, a dream job, traveling, nice clothes -- again in a heartbeat to be where I am. It is a joy to experience God's heart for his children, to teach her, to help shape her soul and build her character. And the love. Oh, the love I have for her. Year-ago-me could never have imagined the nature of this love that God has given me for her. I did not have a mommy's heart, but He gave me one.
And it is so full.

I have been so lavishly blessed by family in celebration of Mother's day. My parents bought me an orchid and a book, my in-laws sent me beautiful irises, and my church showered me in treats and flowers. My amazing husband went above and beyond, and took me shopping this week ... with his birthday money (he made me agree before hand that I wouldn't protest). He dutifully carried my bags, waited while I tried stuff on, and paid for the things I chose. It was AWESOME.
But my best gift? Today, after going to a friend's beautiful wedding, all three of us took a late-afternoon nap while it rained. My tiny girl was curled up next to me, her face in my chest and her tiny feet resting on my legs. The gentle rain, the warmth of Josh sleeping near me, and the chance to just snuggle my sleeping Phoenix was sublime.
I am so thankful that when God and I disagree, He wins. Because being a mom is the jam.

Adoption Dreams

I guess the time has come for us to actually put this out there ... Josh and I are officially pursuing adoption. Domestic, infant adoption.
There will be a day where I fully explain our journey to this point, our decision-making process and our reasoning for the specific route we've chosen. The short version -- God's leading.

We submitted our preliminary application to Bethany Christian Services a couple weeks ago, and we really start the process on June 11th (Phoenix has to be a year old before they will officially accept our application).

Here is what I know: I am still wildly ignorant about so many facets of this process, I am incredibly nervous about what will surely be a roller-coaster journey, and I can hardly contain my excitement. 

I can't explain how deeply connected I already feel to a baby that may or may not have been conceived. I was looking at THIS book at work tonight, and ended up in tears because so much of it rings true for me even though we have literally just begun our journey. The mama is explaining the adoption journey to her child, and she says:

I wished for you with my morning coffee, and when I made my bed.

I couldn't get my wish for you out from in my head.

  

Our future child may not be physically conceived, but he/she is dreamt about, prayed for and cherished already. 

As we embark on this journey, I want to articulate my/our dreams for the process and for our child. I want to be able to look back and see the faithfulness of God in responding to our hearts and exceeding our expectations.

So, here you go:

• First and foremost, we want to see God glorified.
• We want to fully acknowledge our status as adopted children of God, and experience His adoptive heart.
• We want to see the child that God designed for us come into our home, no matter how long or hard the process. 
• We want to grow as people, parents and followers of Christ. I am already being changed, and I am thankful for all the impending opportunities to trust God.
• We want to be faithful and diligent in learning everything we can about how to do this well.
• We want to be a blessing to the birthmom, and incorporate her (and potentially the birthfather) into our lives in the most healthy way possible. 
• We want to see the provision of God make this financially possible for us.
• We want to be vocal about the process, so that people get a window into the miracle of adoption. It was truly a gift for me to share my heart during our NICU experience, and I plan to be equally honest and forthcoming about this next journey in our family.
• We want to witness the breakdown of stereotypes and play a part in racial reconciliation.
• We want to be advocates for adoptees. 

Big dreams, I know. But that's just kind of how I roll.
Keep us in your prayers, and dream big with us.

Side note: I know this is not in keeping with the tone of this post, but a bug just crawled out of my computer. That is the second time I have been laying in bed, and see a bug come up from between the screen and keyboard. What the heck!? Now I feel like they are crawling all over me ...

Lunch Lady

I have really terrible eating habits when it comes to lunch ... if there aren't dinner leftovers, I usually just stare at our fridge hoping that someone will reach out and hand me a salad from Panera. But, since that has yet to happen, I usually end up eating something terrible like nachos. This had to change -- not only because I am a few pounds heavier than I would prefer, but more so because of the way that kind of food makes me feel. Trust me, I believe there is a time and place for nachos. But fatty, starchy foods just suck the life right out of me.
I have already solved this problem for breakfast -- I wasn't eating in the morning, mostly because I didn't know what to make. Now, almost every morning, I have been drinking a smoothie of: frozen bananas, Greek yogurt, peanut butter, spinach and milk. Lean, full of protein, and I get lots of good green spinach eaten before 9 AM. (Don't stress ... you don't taste the spinach. Click HERE for a link to a recipe).
I have learned the one trick to eating more healthy food: make sure there is plenty of it around. In tasty and convenient forms. I have been working really hard to create dinner menus that are tasty, semi-healthy, and Josh-approved. But I had not put any effort into taking care of myself when it comes to eating lunch.
So, when meal planning for this week, I added a lunch to the list. If I just make one or two things at the beginning of the week, I can eat on them for several days. The best part of this lunch food endeavor? I can indulge in all the flavors and foods that Josh won't eat. So I eat better tasting food, and it's better for me. Holla!

This week I decided to make:
1. Quinoa salad with curried cauliflower, pine nuts and raisins. O Lord, it is so freaking good. Here's a picture ... and click HERE for the recipe.

Not the prettiest looking food, but DELICIOUS. I didn't use any red quinoa (it's expensive), and I was short on raisins, since I had eaten most of them when my blood sugar was low. Next time, I would use less quinoa (for a higher goodies to quinoa ratio) and maybe a little more curry.
2. Lettuce wrap sandwiches. Saw it on Pinterest, and ended up at THIS website. Really, it's just sandwich stuff on lettuce instead of bread. This is PERFECT for me, because then I don't have to worry about giving myself insulin for carbs. I put turkey, avocado, tomato, cucumber and mushrooms on mine. No soggy bread from the tomatoes, and it tasted great!

After coming home from the farmer's market yesterday, I put away loads of fresh produce, herbs, cheese, meat and milk. Then I stopped and stared at my fridge, moved almost to tears. I am so thankful for all those good eats ... I try not to forget what a luxury it is! Thankful for the margin in our budget to eat healthy, great places to find organic food, and the internet to help me cook it all!

Waiting

<--- Been reading this awesome book lately.

I promise I will (at some point) provide a thorough review of this book on French parenting. For now, I just want to share how God continues to teach me about being His child.

The fourth chapter of the book, aptly title "wait!" recounts the French emphasis on delayed gratification. Druckerman was struck by the capacity of French children to sit calmly in restaurants, to eat only one snack per day, and to generally have more command of themselves.
Turns out, from infancy, French parents make waiting a part of their children's reality. Intentional pausing allows babies to self-soothe and older children to self-distract, making them more autonomous and capable. If French families bake cupcakes in the morning, the children will expect to wait until their afternoon snack to sample the treats.

I am bought in. For my own sanity, I do not want to be at the constant beck-and-call of my children. But more importantly, I think is wildly unhealthy for babies/kids to believe the world revolves around them. I want our kids to feel part of something bigger than themselves, and to be capable of respecting the needs and desires of other people. Josh agreed, and we are already getting Phoenix on a more predictable eating schedule (which requires a little waiting).

Unfortunately, this book has heightened my already growing frustration with being a stay-at-home mom. I am so thankful for Phoenix, and do not regret being home with her up to this point. But I am stir-crazy. And under-stimulated. And unkempt. Anyone who knows me will not be surprised that I am desperately looking forward to either going back to work or school. I don't mind couponing, laundry, cooking and I LOVE hanging with Phoenix. But I would just love to not have those things comprise the totality of my existence.

The problem? I cannot justify putting Phoenix in some random daycare for a job that doesn't even matter to me. If I am going to drop my baby off with someone I don't know, I want to be pursuing my passions. And God has yet to present such an opportunity.

Last night, in tears, I was telling Josh how ready I am to contribute to the world outside our home. To my fatalist exaggerations about never being a regular person again, he tried gently reminding me that being a stay-at-home mom will not last forever. I responded, "But I am tired of it NOW!"

Hmmm. Feels a little like God is pulling the ole delayed gratification trick with me. Just when I decided that waiting it such an important part of nurturing maturity in Phoenix, God reminded me that my own life is no different.
There is no shortage of waiting in scripture, so I am sure the coming days will bring much study for the sake of encouragement.
In the meantime, I am thankful for a God who knows the longings of my heart, who is patient with my impatience, and is working something good in me.

Side note -- I got the stomach flu the morning after eating the recipe from my previous post. I am positive those things are not related (since Cami didn't get sick), but my subconscious apparently associates them. In other words, I almost gagged when I saw the picture below.

Favorite Baby Products

Seeing as I only have one child, I definitely do not consider myself an expert on anything related to babies. Nor am I familiar with a lot of the baby products on the market. Being a new mom is hard these days ... there are ten millions products for your infant, all endorsed as "must-haves."
And I guess there are indeed some "must-haves." Like a crib. Or a boppy pillow. Or diapers.
But here are some of the more obscure things that we have loved, and that have worked for Phoenix (in no particular order).

Itzbeen Baby Care Timer

I remember seeing this at Babies R' Us while registering, and thought it would be kind of cool to have. After Phoenix had been home for merely a week, Josh and I realized we couldn't ever remember what time we had last fed Phoenix (new parent sleep-deprivation was to blame). That is why this little gadget is so perfect ... you just push a button when you change a diaper or feed the baby, and it starts a timer. That way, when you wake up in the middle of the night, you can check to see how long it's been since the baby ate/pooped/whatevered. You can even have it "alarm"after a certain amount of time, which was great for us, since we would have to wake Phoenix up to eat. And it even helps you remember which side you last breastfed on. Loved it!

Aden + Anais Swaddle Blankets

  

 Cute little muslin swaddle blankets that are perfect for ... everything. Laying on the floor for tummy time, wrapping up a nap-thrasher, using as a light blanket, etc.






Cloud B Sleep Sheep

This sweet little stuffed animal creates gentle background noise, with 4 different sounds to choose from. Phoenix went to sleep listening to waves for the first several months at home -- not only did it help lull her to sleep, but it became part of the routine that would signal it was bedtime. This was especially great for her because she was used to all the NICU noise, so total silence was almost unsettling to her.






Tommee Tippee Bottles and Microwave Sterilizer 

We have LOVED these bottles. To be honest, we haven't really tried anything else, so I can't claim these are necessarily better than any other bottles on the market. I initially choose them because they are supposed to make switching between bottle and breast easier.  But we love them because: (1) the wide mouth makes cleaning easier, and adding formula much less messy (2) they have held up incredibly well after 8 months of constant use (3) we could use them with lids for breast milk storage while I was pumping, and (4) the shape is easy for us -- and now Phoenix -- to hold. I am a HUGE fan of the microwave sterilizer as well. When Phoenix first came home, it was really important that her bottles were sterilized, and this product made it SO easy. We still use it, even though it is not as necessary, just to make sure the bottles stay really clean.

Tommee Tippee Milk Feeding Bibs

Whoever thought of these is BRILLIANT! Baby necks rolls are notorious for collecting all kinds of gross things, especially if they are messy eaters. These bibs keep milk/formula from getting in those hard-to-reach places with an enlarged, absorbent collar. No more neck rashes!








 innobaby Packin' SMART

  A thoughtful friend gave me this wonderful product at my baby shower, and I LOVE it! I have used it primarily as a formula dispenser, but I am sure it will hold Cheerios and other little snacks in the near future. I pre-measure a serving of dry formula into each compartment, snap it all together, and keep it in the diaper bag for easing on-the-go eating. It locks tightly together, so I don't have to worry about a giant mess in my bag. The best part? Each inner compartment has a funnel lid, so it's not messy to get formula into a bottle. 




Itzy Ritzy Peek-a-Boo Pod

It will never cease to blow my mind how babies break down social norms. Would a stranger walk up and start stroking my hand? No. But Phoenix's hand? Yes. This awesome (and cute) carseat cover keeps strangers at bay, and keeps it dark and quiet if Phoenix is sleeping. I pretty much want to own everything that Itzy Ritzy makes.





Fisher-Price Rock n' Play Sleeper

 Best. Thing. Ever. Phoenix was in our room for the first several months, and we never owned a bassinet. She slept and hung out in this awesome rocker, which was so easy to move from room to room. The incline was awesome for her reflux, and the inside cover is machine washable (a must, in my book). She still likes this thing ... we keep in our bathroom now, and she will just hang out while I take a shower and get ready in the morning. I HIGHLY recommend this for moms-to-be ... it's the perfect little bed for the pre-crib days.




Planet Wise Wet Bag

 I mostly use wet bags for cloth diapering on-the-go, but I would still recommend owning one or two of these glorious inventions. You put wet stuff in it (ie. nasty clothes, used bibs, swimsuits, etc) and it keeps the rest of your diaper bag clean and dry. Then you just throw it in the wash. No plastic bag waste!







Charlie's Soap

 No need for baby soap if you use this stuff for all your washing (like we do). Non-toxic, environmentally friendly, economical, biodegradable, and doesn't leave residue on your clothes (like traditional detergent). And it is also great for cloth diapering!









Other products we have and endorse:

• Safety 1st onBoard35 Air Car Seat -- We got this as part of a travel system (with an accompanying stroller), and we LOVE it! It still looks good as new, and it incredibly easy to use. And it fits preemies (we would know) up to a 35lbs, which is a substantial range.
• Graco DuoDiner High Chair -- Machine washable seat pad, dishwasher safe tray and converts to a booster seat.
• Baby Einstein Neptune Ocean Adventure Gym -- if for no other reason, it's been great because of all the toys attached. But Phoenix stills loves laying on her back and reaching up for toys. 
• Fisher Price Laugh and Learn Jumperoo 
• OXO Tot Feeding Spoons -- Silicone tip, long handles, and they work like a spatula (both in the jar and on the baby's face).
• Penguin Cool-Mist Humidifier
• Moby Wrap

Favorite Toys:

• Fisher-Price Soothe and Glow Seahorse  
• Melissa and Doug Picnic Basket 
• Lamaze Tug and Play Activity Knot
• Fisher-Price Laugh and Learn Learning Puppy
• Taggies Blanket

Side note -- I am not an Amazomibe. I only included the Amazon links because I could find all the product links in one place.

Whew.

What are your favorite baby products? Why?