A Season of Transparent Grief

I struggle with social media, I really do.

There is an appropriate medium for everything, and social media typically lends itself to this “everything is rosy” facade, and I fully subscribe. But that is also why I have a blog to go deeper. To share not just the picture-perfect moments but to reveal maybe some of the struggle, difficulties or humour behind those images.

Living here in Luxembourg has been filled with adventure, there is no doubt. But being apart from friends and family has been hard. We have missed some big moments and little ones too. My heart aches when I hear, “Oh, I just popped over at grandma’s” or when there’s an impromptu family dinner.

But a silver lining to being on this side of the pond is the opportunity to spend some time with Ken’s extended family. His great aunt and uncle live in the Netherlands and on occasion, we have been able to make the 3.5 hour drive to visit .

This past weekend we had planned a trip and were excited to introduce them to Reid for the first time. We were looking forward to having them hold him and for Reid to get to know some new family members. Unfortunately, the weekend was spent in a hospital room. Ken’s great uncle was very sick. Despite the change in plans however, we still felt it was important to be there, even more so.

And so we spent our much anticipated trip in the Family Room of the hospital where Ken’s great aunt was able to play with Reid and read to him in Dutch. His great uncle, although incoherent, held his tiny little hand… these are moments we will forever cherish.

Now this context was not something we felt compelled to post all over social media. But what you will see is our short 30 minute drive to the ocean to sneak away. Reid taking steps in the sand, laughs that gave respite to heavy hearts, and a much welcomed break from a very emotionally draining weekend.

Unfortunately, we just received word that Ken’s great uncle passed away this week.

We are saddened and grateful at the same time. To have family here has been a blessing. To be able to share in the joys and struggles together has also been a blessing. 

This is what sharing life really looks like.

A Season to be Tethered...

I have recently come to the full realization that I am tethered. I am and will forever be tethered. Not in a restricting or daunting way, but in the simplest sense my heart is tethered to my child.

I think I should make the correction now and state that the title of this post is inaccurate. This is not a season but a lifelong commitment - "Forever Tethered".

A small part of my heart and soul is now asleep in the other room as I write and contemplate what this means. Over the last few months the analogy of a boat tethered to shore has made a recurrence in my mind. There are times that the rope is short and I have been yearning to have it let out just a little. And here we are at almost 7 months and we are drifting as we should, ebb and flowing with the waves of new parenthood. This will be a long long process of gradually releasing this rope as Reid gains more independence. I want him to be bold in this world, navigate the waters and course set before him. And still, my heart will be tethered, there is no end to this rope that binds us. Waters may become choppy but he will know that with the slightest tug I will be waiting for him on shore.

A Season for Lent & Self-Love

Lent is a spiritual practice that I had never given too much thought to. Coming from an Anabaptist theological background, this was never a tradition that I had observed (although some fun digging around led me down a very interesting rabbit hole as to why the Calvinist and Anabaptist doctrine differs on this topic).

Regardless, what comes to mind is 40 days of no chocolate or coffee, and being a new mom those are some vital staples to my current survival…

This year however, something within me was stirring and drawing me to a time of reflection; a desire to calm and focus my heart in the midst of the chaos of new parenthood.

Ash Wednesday approached and as I sat rocking my sweet little bundle I contemplated what would be something significant to give up. Coffee – definitely no. Chocolate – no. Social media – not for those late night feedings. If only sleep was something that I could just piggy back right?! All of these things actually seemed a little superficial.

What I needed was something more. What was I struggling, with? What was I needing? What would draw my focus back?

I found that self-criticism had crept up and although this is not a ‘typical’ thing one might give up for lent, it was what I needed.

I gave up self-criticism and in return every time a negative thought would pop up I would redirect it. My new curves are a beautiful reflection of new life. I am the best mom for this little guy. I am enough.

Ken became extremely amused by the constant eye-rolling (there were no rules that I couldn’t eye-roll), and he took full advantage of complimenting me during these past few weeks.

What a gift this time has been. By no means was this easy or a time of boasting but it was a true time of perspective. A time to remember who’s image I am made in and the value that holds…

“Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable – if anything is excellent or praiseworthy – think about such things.”  
Philippians 4:8

A Season for Apples, Heartburn and Baggy-T's

The moment I took that pregnancy test and saw two blue lines staring back at me I was immediately flung into an episode of this hysterical laughter/crying hybrid. When I finally came to my senses, my next thought was ‘how do I tell Ken?’ Of course we had been trying, so this was not going to come as a huge shock for him. But what a special moment it is to share the news that you are about to embark on this crazy journey of parenthood together!

I told Ken the only way one ought to tell a classy scientist – with three pregnancy tests (all of different makes) and a fine bottle of scotch, welcoming him into his new role of fatherhood.

From that day on it has been a roller coaster… like The Vortex (insert Canadian reference here) the one with all the loops and twists and drops – on a mountain!

The first few weeks were a little rough, I mostly occupied a small space on the couch where I lived during the day with my ginger ale and saltine crackers. Doors were always closed because I could not take the smell of the kitchen. Despite Ken’s excellent bleach job of that fridge (x 3) I just simply could not bring myself to open that door, it was too much for my stomach to take.

And so, for 12 weeks I became the ‘blob that lived on the couch’ and quite literally felt like I was trapped on a roller coaster that I couldn’t get off of.

By the second trimester things were turning around and I began to get an appetite again. Any fears I had had were relieved by our very blunt Luxembourgish doctor, ‘just eat a normal human food diet and you’ll be fine’ (normal human food referring to not ‘vegetarian’). So, not only did my appetite come back, I now had an insatiable craving for apples! Apples were the staple of my diet, and had also led to an apple picking adventure where we came home with 23 POUNDS of apples. Yes. 23 POUNDS. What, may you ask, did we ever do with them all? We ate them. We ate them in apple crisps, apple muffins, apple pancakes. To say that these were some of the happiest days of my pregnancy would be an understatement. I just loved apples, the crunchier and juicier the better!

Now, there was a close second in terms of happiest moments of this pregnancy – the day we found out we were having a little boy.

Living abroad means that many moments aren’t able to be shared with close family and friends back home. But seeing as we were heading to Canada last September, we planned to find out together the gender of our little bean. With a backyard filled with 60 excitable faces, we cut that cake to see the blue crumbs falling out… we were having a son. Our hearts could not have been fuller than in that moment. It was such a special day and a special moment to share with those we loved.

And as the second trimester went on, the glow passed and weirder symptoms started creeping in. Yes, it is a joy being pregnant and yes, I love the reassurance of feeling the little guy hiccup as I fall asleep. But, there are some other symptoms that occur that are not given as much credit and for due reason (i.e. heartburn). Sometimes, it’s hard, and uncomfortable and frankly just a little weird that there is another life form kicking your ribs. For my friends who have given me fair warning – I thank you!

And with that, I have to say I have been so fortunate to walk through this pregnancy alongside some pretty amazing women here in Lux. One of which is due one day apart from myself. Mom groups, ‘is this normal’ texts and chats over decaf coffee have been my lifeline in the last few months.

I know many have asked if I am nervous about giving birth in a new country. My answer is not entirely.

Ken and I had the privilege of going to the ‘English’ prenatal classes at the maternity hospital here. Despite being an English class, we were only one of two native English speakers. The beauty that we saw was that despite which country you came from (Russia, Poland, the Netherlands, Portugal), we all had the same hopes, fears and questions. It may require a few more charades with the midwives to ask a question or get an answer, but I’m not worried.

So now, week 40 and our little guy is due in just days. How did this happen?

The time has flown, especially with the holidays swirling restlessly around us, we simply haven’t had time to think. But here we are ready or not. Actually let me take that back, I am definitely ready. I get it, ladies I get it. My wardrobe now consists of Ken’s t-shirts and flannel pants and I physically cannot imagine another week of this little guy’s karate kicks – despite how cute Ken thinks they are!

The anticipation has overcome the anxiety and we are simply ready to meet this handsome guy (sleepless nights and all).

A Season of Surrender

Every year there seems to be a theme to my life…

I typically don’t start out the year with a word or phrase in mind, but as the year unfolds there is always something that is brought to the forefront. A reoccurring theme that permeates throughout the events of the last 12 months.

This year, the word surrender has continually been brought to my mind. Surrender. On several occasions I have waved the white flag in order to….

Surrender to some pretty intense life circumstances (think house fire set by the tenant of the home you own in Canada). 

Surrender to the changes your body endures as you expect the arrival of your little one. Not to mention your new limitations and the body image issues that come with.

Surrender to the fact that you will never please some people regardless how hard you try.... and understanding that forgiveness and reconciliation are two very different things.

Surrender to the fears, the stresses, the worries, the unknowns.

Surrender to the outpouring of love as people have come alongside us this past year. The humbleness of accepting some much appreciated help, random phone calls, letters and even visits across the ocean.

And this is my struggle, to continually surrender, placing my pride aside, my desire to fix and resolve.

Sometimes just to be and to allow the emotions to flood my soul is what I ultimately needed. There is strength and beauty in surrendering. There is freedom and release and growth when you let go of your expectations.
One of my favourite hymns has been a much welcomed broken record in my heart this past year – ‘I Surrender All’. It has been such a peace and comfort.

Obviously, surrendering is not code for ‘giving up’, by all means we have worked harder and prayed harder this year than we have before. But, what I have learned is that there is a delicate dance of surrendering and accepting the fact that some things will just be and it is ultimately the level of grace in which I react to these things that determine my peace.