He Hears Me

It's been a crazy week around here. Brooks has been on developmental steroids it seems (which deserves a post in and of itself), and Baxter was gone Saturday through Wednesday. The combination of the two has me just about running on fumes. Being with my boy day in and day out is a gift that I absolutley treasure, but with my all-star husband and partner in parenting out of town, its been a long few days.

I know that this phase of motherhood anywhere in the world is challenging, but I have finally given myself permission to admit that there are a few extra challenges to parenting in our part of the world. There's of course the obvious, such as doting grandparents being thousands of miles away, the availability of only public or two wheeled transportation, and the near illiteracy that makes buying any kind of baby anything difficult to name a few. But perhaps what has been among the biggest challenges for me are some things that I didn't quite expect. We live in a fifth floor apartment (which we love by the way) with no elevator, and even in my ninth month of pregnancy this didn't phase me. I strategically bought a "light weight" stroller with plans of me and my tiny baby traipsing all over our city. What my naivete and inexperience did not take into consideration however, was my now not so tiny (70th percentile for weight actually, but who's counting?) baby, and his preference for a schedule. So in actuality, there are about two, one hour windows per day where Brooks is not soon to be needing to sleep or eat. And to get him and the stroller (and a toy, and a burp rag, cell phone, wallet, bag for any groceries we need to pick up, etc.) down the stairs, I've got to strap him into the Ergo, hoist the stroller down the stairs, and then attempt a graceful/non-attention grabbing one handed pop out of the stroller. Needless to say I'm rather sweaty after the 10-15 minute ordeal of just getting out of the house and down the stairs. (And we won't even cover the amount of grunting that goes into coming back UP the stairs. I assure you, it's not pretty).

All of this as you can imagine, makes my desire and need for some daily time out of the house less than easy. Baxter is always gracious to help, but when he's gone it's as they say here "mei banfa", or basically  there is no solution to your problem. Brooks and I ended up being home alone this week unexpectedly (again, deserves a separate post), so I had to do some running to the market to you know, keep myself fed. I consider myself to be in pretty decent shape, but after three days of hauling up and down (add groceries to the list above), I was beat. So when Baxter came home and we laid in bed last night catching up, I inevitably found myself pouring out my exhaustion induced tears and fears of never being able to leave the house again, and how isolating that felt. I'm told loneliness is a normal part of life with a baby, but after a few days of flying solo and the aforementioned ordeal being the only way to get out of the house, I became increasingly convinced that Brooks and I were bound to be stuck indoors forever.

Thankfully after a good nights sleep and a perspective inducing run in gorgeous spring weather, things didn't seem so bleak this morning. In recent months we have talked about how a move would eventually be necessary, as I am convinced that the only way to leave the house with any additional future babies would be flinging myself out the window onto a trampoline below. (And no, I am never dramatic). And would you believe what happened this morning? Our landlord, who has been so great for the 3 years we've lived in this apartment, sent Baxter a text saying that she would be selling our apartment at the end of our lease in August.

My jaw hit the floor, as if I had just discovered that last night she had in fact been dangling outside our window overhearing our conversation. Here I was belly aching about the travesty of living on the fifth floor, and before it's even crossed my pitiful mind to pray about it, the Lord hands me an answer. I've spent most of the day overwhelmed at the timeliness of all this, and God's goodness to simply hear me. Yes, a move will be a a lot of work, but God heard me. He saw my heart, knew my needs, and responded. The reality of this, is mind blowing to me. That the God of the universe, who's been busy this week appointing popes and staying nuclear North Korea, is concerned about this little mama being in a situation that enables her and her active bambino to thrive. I feel like Hagar, who in a desert of her own, was heard by God and called him "the God who sees".

While this magical apartment not on the fifth floor has yet to be found or even looked for, for now I am content knowing that He hears me. He sees me, hears my heart, and moves to tenderly respond. What a gentle, attentive Shepherd, and how thankful I am He calls me His own.