This little baby is beautiful. Obviously I am partial due to the fact she shares some of my genes, but in my heart, I would know if she was ugly. And she's just not.
I didn't get teared up at all throughout this process. I think I've been in serious denial that my baby brother had actually produced a baby, or would be a FATHER for that matter. I'm his big sister. Yes, we will have different experiences in our lifetimes, but I'm supposed to pretty much experience everything first. I'm supposed to give guidance and advice, and I'm supposed to tell him what to do and what not to do.
And yet here he is, helping sweet Ali make it through a VERY long labor, cutting an umbilical cord (I don't even know if I spelled that right), measuring tiny ounces of formula, changing diapers, and taking care of his new FAMILY.
Every single bit of this is foreign territory to me. I wasn't there to see or be a part of the birth (I'm stuck in Alabama four days a week for the new job), so I still have no idea the depths of what the female body goes through. I only held Korbyn a few times and spent a pretty minimal amount of time with them overall, and I don't know how or when they sleep. I don't know how much a newborn needs to eat. I don't know what the signs and symptoms are for illness. I don't know what it takes for a body to heal after an event like this. I can barely hand her off to anyone in fear that "someone will drop the baby". I am not the big sister in this situation, but merely a very awed and inspired outsider.
I do know that Miss Korbyn is a blessing. An earned blessing. They didn't pick her up off a clearance aisle at Target. And she cannot be returned. She is going to bring them plenty of poopy diapers, spilled milk, temper tantrums, and sleepless nights. But she will bring tons of joy, laughter, peace, and fulfillment. She is an earned blessing.
My very old parents (Come on, you know you're old :) have brought home THREE beautiful earned blessings. Three under three. The BLT ranch. The crazy house. Call it what you want, but most people tell me that my parents are amazing.... but nuts. And they are. Their house, which was once beautifully decorated with what some call "modern country", is now filled with plastic cars of multiple colors, play houses, a jungle gym, and even a bounce house. They never sleep or spend time alone. They don't get to go on dates or spend much time with friends. They can't even really talk much on the phone, because these children have sensors for phone conversation that cause them to yell louder when someone calls. Most of the time, I think they barely notice each other, because they're just trying to get by. Just surviving the day... hoping for enough sleep... only to do the same thing all over again when they wake up.
But again, this mad house is a blessing to anyone who walks through the door. These kids are hilarious, intelligent, brave, adorable, corky, sweet... but most of all, they are LOVED. They bring joy to their very tired parents, to their grandparents who almost didn't get to have little grandbabies, to aunts and uncles who won't have anymore children, but who love to babysit, to friends who love to watch the effort being made in the church balcony, to strangers who might have never thought twice about adoption but who can now imagine loving any child, and to big sisters who just love them because. They are earned blessings.
And yet here he is, helping sweet Ali make it through a VERY long labor, cutting an umbilical cord (I don't even know if I spelled that right), measuring tiny ounces of formula, changing diapers, and taking care of his new FAMILY.
Every single bit of this is foreign territory to me. I wasn't there to see or be a part of the birth (I'm stuck in Alabama four days a week for the new job), so I still have no idea the depths of what the female body goes through. I only held Korbyn a few times and spent a pretty minimal amount of time with them overall, and I don't know how or when they sleep. I don't know how much a newborn needs to eat. I don't know what the signs and symptoms are for illness. I don't know what it takes for a body to heal after an event like this. I can barely hand her off to anyone in fear that "someone will drop the baby". I am not the big sister in this situation, but merely a very awed and inspired outsider.
I do know that Miss Korbyn is a blessing. An earned blessing. They didn't pick her up off a clearance aisle at Target. And she cannot be returned. She is going to bring them plenty of poopy diapers, spilled milk, temper tantrums, and sleepless nights. But she will bring tons of joy, laughter, peace, and fulfillment. She is an earned blessing.
My very old parents (Come on, you know you're old :) have brought home THREE beautiful earned blessings. Three under three. The BLT ranch. The crazy house. Call it what you want, but most people tell me that my parents are amazing.... but nuts. And they are. Their house, which was once beautifully decorated with what some call "modern country", is now filled with plastic cars of multiple colors, play houses, a jungle gym, and even a bounce house. They never sleep or spend time alone. They don't get to go on dates or spend much time with friends. They can't even really talk much on the phone, because these children have sensors for phone conversation that cause them to yell louder when someone calls. Most of the time, I think they barely notice each other, because they're just trying to get by. Just surviving the day... hoping for enough sleep... only to do the same thing all over again when they wake up.
But again, this mad house is a blessing to anyone who walks through the door. These kids are hilarious, intelligent, brave, adorable, corky, sweet... but most of all, they are LOVED. They bring joy to their very tired parents, to their grandparents who almost didn't get to have little grandbabies, to aunts and uncles who won't have anymore children, but who love to babysit, to friends who love to watch the effort being made in the church balcony, to strangers who might have never thought twice about adoption but who can now imagine loving any child, and to big sisters who just love them because. They are earned blessings.
My husband is in Iraq. He started his deployment in May, went to training in North Carolina and California, and then headed over to a world that I know nothing about. I don't even know if I support what we are doing over there, mainly because I don't know much about it. And yet, since Aaron left, I see men (I'm not being sexist, just I've seen mainly men, and the one female was rude) in uniform all over the place. I've read books about what it's like to wait for a spouse at war. I just got done bawling over an episode of Army Wives. Ugh, the War on Terror is no longer only on CNN for me. It's everywhere.
I am trying really hard to stay positive. I am fine one day, and then the next, I am irritable, bitter, and sad sad sad. I try to spend time with friends and family, but I feel out of place, like I'm just biding time until I can go home and go to bed. I want to call every person I know and just cry, and then I feel like a huge baby, so I say "I'm fine". I act like I’m busy, but I’m actually only busy checking my phone for emails, texts, or calls from area code 999999999 or 0000123456.
I could complain for days and continue feeling sorry for my sad little self (LOL). But in reality, I am fine. And if my family has taught me anything, it’s that good things come with effort and persistence. Blessings may be a gift from God, but that does not mean He doesn’t expect us to earn our keeps. Aaron and I are blessed that we have a connection like none other, that our values align, that our families are supportive, that our goals don’t clash, and that our stubborn hearts won’t let us give up. It was easy to fall in love with Aaron when he was around. But I think he would agree that it has not been so easy to TRULY get to know each other… to TRULY prove our determination and faithfulness… to TRULY (Mr. Shelley would kill me for putting an adverb between “to” and all these verbs. Sorry, I just like it.) find humor and happiness in rough situations… to plan for future life events, but to claim and embrace the presence as it is…
Lord, thank you thank you thank you for this earned blessing.
I am trying really hard to stay positive. I am fine one day, and then the next, I am irritable, bitter, and sad sad sad. I try to spend time with friends and family, but I feel out of place, like I'm just biding time until I can go home and go to bed. I want to call every person I know and just cry, and then I feel like a huge baby, so I say "I'm fine". I act like I’m busy, but I’m actually only busy checking my phone for emails, texts, or calls from area code 999999999 or 0000123456.
I could complain for days and continue feeling sorry for my sad little self (LOL). But in reality, I am fine. And if my family has taught me anything, it’s that good things come with effort and persistence. Blessings may be a gift from God, but that does not mean He doesn’t expect us to earn our keeps. Aaron and I are blessed that we have a connection like none other, that our values align, that our families are supportive, that our goals don’t clash, and that our stubborn hearts won’t let us give up. It was easy to fall in love with Aaron when he was around. But I think he would agree that it has not been so easy to TRULY get to know each other… to TRULY prove our determination and faithfulness… to TRULY (Mr. Shelley would kill me for putting an adverb between “to” and all these verbs. Sorry, I just like it.) find humor and happiness in rough situations… to plan for future life events, but to claim and embrace the presence as it is…
Lord, thank you thank you thank you for this earned blessing.
