Thoughts on Day 5

In my very sleep-deprived and hormonal state, I feel an urgency to write down what’s going on in my mind today. Just a few days ago, our world changed. We’d been anticipating this boy’s arrival for months, but suddenly, he was here. There was so little warning, and it’s still hard to grasp the reality of his presence. Today was supposed to be our 39 week check-in with the doctor, and he’s already five days old!

So he’s here. Bo William Lyons, our son, is sleeping in his little bed in the middle of our living room right now. This is crazy. And amazing. There’s so much running through my head, and at the same time, time feels so hazy. We live in strange sleep-eat-poop patterns that the days feel like we’re in another world. But today, I’m trying to come back a bit. I want to be present in these days. I want to remember all that’s happening and live in such gratitude. It is hard and tiring and so different for us, but I want to see it as good.

As I’m processing the past few days, all I want to do is say thanks. Every time I feed this boy, I find myself repeating mantras of thanks to God for his provision, his people, and his presence. I could cry every time I think of how God has cared for us over the last few months and especially in the last few days. And most of the time, I do cry. It’s a regular thing lately.

But these people. Our people. We have been loved and supported in more ways than I can count. From the time we sent texts to family and friends that Bo was on his way into the world, we have felt nothing but love. Our families were first on the scene, crying with us and kissing on the boy’s sweet face. They came and waited at the hospital, brought treats, offered words of encouragement, and affirmed our new roles as parents. My mom was there in the delivery room for a bit, loving me and encouraging me in such a simple, but powerful way with her presence. Reed’s family came from Chicago and Michigan, and they’ve sent their love and support through texts each day since. On top of all this, there have been groceries and meals, phone calls and Skype dates – all coming from the most incredible example of a family.

Then, there’s the extended family – our friends. So many came to the hospital or dropped by at home, and it has been the most encouraging time of life. We’ve been prayed over by gracious friends. We’ve been given gifts and opportunity for conversation during long, baby-focused days. We’ve been welcomed home by our RAs and bombarded (positively) by messages from other students. And we’ve been encouraged all the while.

On top of all these moments of joy and support, I’ve can’t stop thanking God for my husband. He is patient and steady. He serves Bo and I with his never-ending diaper changes, his gentle words, and his protection of my rest time. Reed has been a DIT (Dad-in-Training) for a long time, but I never imagined how naturally he’d fall into the role.

In short, God is good. May has held so much pain and sadness over the past three years. When we lost our first baby in May of 2013, I thought this month would forever hold that ache. The anniversary of our loss, Mother’s Day, and a slew of other reminders ran through May each year. But this year, May began differently. How beautiful and poetic it is of God to begin this month with such a piece of his redemption: Bo. Like Boaz in the story of Ruth, God has used this little Bo to redeem pain in our lives. May is still a reminder of loss, but it is also now such a piece of God’s faithfulness.

I’m thankful. And I’m tired and emotional. But mostly, I keep asking God to give us just what we need and to let us continue in a season of thankfulness.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s