our saigey girl; year one. and, a little note to you mamas with colicky babies.

52 weeks.  365 days. 8,760 hours. One whole year ago at this time I couldn’t predict that in just 24 hours I would be holding our brand new to the world, precious baby girl. And, I couldn't predict the love that would fill my heart in a spot I didn't know was empty. Oh, and I couldn't predict how hard the year would be. Or, how great it would be. 

You know, the other day I was driving to the grocery store, Asher was talking about everything under the sun while Saige loudly talked gibberish over him. Thoughts about what to do for Saige’s upcoming first birthday kept surfacing—should we do anything? Should it be a sweet time with just family? Should we do a gift or decorate or make a cake? Then, a song came on the radio & somehow both kids silenced. The words poured out of the speakers & into my heart as if that’s what car speakers were meant for:

“When I look into your eyes

It’s like watching the night sky

Or a beautiful sunrise

Well, there’s so much they hold.

And just like them old stars

I see that you’ve come so far

To be right where you are

How old is your soul?”

Tears like rain that has welled up in clouds for days & days & days poured out… and didn’t stop for a good while. Every verse pulled more tears out of my eyes, tugged at my heart, & recapped this first year I was navigating how to celebrate. My breath was taken, hands shaking, & the only lucid thought I had sounded something like this, “One year. We made it. One whole year. These words. This song. This is recapping this whole year.”

                                 “Well, I won’t give up on us.                                   

Even if the skies get rough.

I’m giving you all my love.

I’m still looking up.”

After this very emotional car ride, I decided I wanted to write out the past year to recap Saige’s first year. It goes something like this ---> original post here.

I didn’t finish it as I intended to. There is really no way to put into words that seem to validate how this past year has been. So, it felt wrong. I felt selfish in sharing how hard this past year has been without super capitalizing on the fact that this year has been marvelously filled with God’s sweet grace, mercies, unconditional love, & gifts. Our baby girl is turning ONE tomorrow. I GET TO pick up her chubby little body out of her crib tomorrow morning & excitedly tell her "HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" We get to sing a little song & celebrate her day of birth. I get to recount the memories of the past year—first foods, long nights (ohhhhh so long nights), her first steps, first words, laugh about her blooming personality, cherish how much she looks like her Daddy, twirl her curly hair in my fingers, & kiss her chubby, somehow always sticky, cheeks. I get to. So many of my friends long for this day. A lot of my friends visit a gravesite on the day of their baby’s first birthday. 

“I don’t wanna be someone who walks away so easily

I’m here to stay and make the difference that I can make.

Our differences they do a lot to teach us how to use

The tools and gifts we got, yeah, we got a lot at stake.

And in the end, you’re still my friend at least we did intend

For us to work. We didn’t break, we didn’t burn.

We had to learn how to bend without the world caving in.

I had to learn what I’ve got, and what I’m not, and who I am.”

While it’s very true that this past year has been exceedingly taxing & it would be a dishonor to not mention the facts, the tears, the struggle, the pain it would be a huge disservice  to not mention the gift it has been.

“I won’t give up on us.

Even if the skies get rough.

I’m giving you all my love.

I’m still looking up, I’m still looking up.”

Our beautiful Saige Malyn Tilford. She brings so much to our family. Her Grammy recently nicknamed her “Bam Bam” and that’s really pretty fitting. If she is going anywhere it’s with great determination & ambition. She moves fiercely, rather aggressively, but somehow moves with this sweetness that is just pure bliss. She is seemingly pretty bossy & knows what she wants & will not shy away from letting you know. She has conquered going up & down the flight of stairs in our home; should you try & stop her she bellows her will to override you.

We haven’t slept much this first year of her life. Sleep deprivation is a real thing & really will impinge on every part of your life. It’s not easy & I wont pretend for a second that I savored every minute, like the strangers in the grocery store urge you to do. You don’t have to. It’s okay to want to sleep, especially when you are getting only thirty minutes of sleep & holding a screeching baby the other 23.5 hours of the day. It's okay to not be okay. Again, you can read my more unfiltered & raw version of this past year HERE. ;) 

BUT, in the moments that you magically have some clarity… cherish it. Dive in fully & be present with the gift of life you are holding. Smell their sweet baby head. Rub those tiny baby feet. Place your finger gently in the palm of their hand & soak in the feeling of them grasping tightly to you. Press their cheeks up against yours. Rock them & sing despite the sound of your tired voice lullaby. Stare into their eyes & relish in the beauty that you get to know the color of eyes God gave them. Delight in the feeling of a human being feeling so safe with you that they go completely limp in your arms after you nurse them for the 80^th time that night. Drink them in. 

Don’t forget that no matter how hard it is, how little of sleep you are going on, how impossible it feels to even think about tomorrow or even the next hour, no matter how incredibly overwhelmed you feel… you can, Mama. His mercies are new every single morning; that is true for YOU (and me, thank God.)!!!

And, beautiful friend reading this, don’t you dare forget that while you are holding that sweet baby who never sleeps & is colicky & you are sinking deeper into depression, don’t you forget that as you, rightfully, let tears fall in your baby’s super cute nursery & rock that fussy baby there is, indeed, a Mama standing in a nursery pouring out tears over an empty crib, empty arms, & an aching heart.  Rightfully, let your tears fall. Take a deep breath. Breathe in the sweet smell of that sweet baby, feel in your soul the weight you hold in your arms, close you eyes & delight in in the gift you hold. I know it is hard. I know you are tired beyond your wits. I know you feel lonely & maybe even abandoned. I know you may even dream of being anywhere but where you are… I know because I felt that way, too. A lot. And, it’s crushing. The guilt of that is crushing. I so encourage you to process what you feel. Feel it all. 

But, don’t you wallow & miss out on the undeniable beauty you hold because it feels too hard… I promise you that “too hard” is the weight of just dreaming to hold that weight. I am preaching to myself just as much here. Don't forget you don't hold emptiness. That's the unimaginable hard, dear sister.

Truly, I just want to say that this past year has felt like hurdle after hurdle with hardly any space in-between; but, the gift our growing baby girl wasn’t the challenge. The challenge was learning to cope. To press in & press on. To choose joy in the face of adversity. I’m thankful for His grace.

God’s grace through family, friendships, & His Word has carried us. 

Mostly, I am so grateful for my husband who weathered each & every blow alongside me. I am grateful for a husband who processes alongside me his own take on it all, sharing his beautiful & not so beautiful moments with zero filters. What a man to be able to do so. Doing a marriage with little sleep, all those hurdles, & being two seperate beings TRYING, desperately, to move in harmony  hasn't been a cake walk. But, there is nobody else I would rather harmonize & deharmonize with. (you can make up words when you write on your own blog. that's a fact.) 

Here I am again, trying to recap the first year of Saige’s life & I just can’t help but mention how hard it was. I think that’s okay. It’s the truth of how it’s been. I'm still processing all of it & still learning to "count it all as joy when you endure challenges of any kind." (James 1:2)

“Cause even the stars they burn

Some even fall to the earth

We’ve got a lot to learn

God knows we’re worth it.

No, I won’t give up.”

Thank you, Jason Mraz for the song that so perfectly captures the essence of this past year.

She is worth it. She is worth the sleeplessness. God knows that & gives just what we need to endure it. I have a feeling it won’t get much easier from here on out. The world is broken & groaning. Struggle, hardship, challenges will continue to come. This past year has really been great training to endure those curve balls. 

Saigey-Lou, I couldn’t of dreamed you up. Your big eyes, gorgeous grin, chubby cheeks & legs & arms, how you light up a room & constantly make us laugh… you’re just so much more. We love you. Every big & small part of you—your big personality to your tiny toes, we are in love with. I cannot wait to watch you grow another year. May you learn to sleep soundly, because that really would be nice. But…if you do not, may I eat my words & cherish the moments we are up together in the silence & stillness of the night. It’s pretty sacred  & I really do love being with you. You’re loved, baby girl. You are so loved.

       

Happy, indeed, One Year.

“I won’t give up on us

Even if the skies get rough

I’m giving you all my love

I’m still looking up.”

the raw,slightly unfiltered, story

A year ago at this time I was 55 pounds heavier anxiously awaiting contractions to begin & eventually lead to the birth of our Saige girl. I dreamed about how our labor would be & obsessed over making sure that all things were constantly in place, ready to begin the marathon that is birth. I was worried about Josh getting adequate time off work to be with me, where Asher would go, if my Mom would get there the next day or not, if the labor would be long, & suppressing any fears of birth going wrong.

Then, October 9 around 5 pm contractions began. We went to our Community Group & it was a special night where we were all sharing our stories. Through contractions I listened to beautiful people share their beautiful, grace-filled stories. I held my swollen stomach that was tightening with the pains of contractions & was mentally so ready to do this whole birth thing. Asher’s labor was hard & I fought against it the whole time because the pain was like nothing I could even begin to describe. After group we went home & my midwife instructed I take a warm bath, drink some wine, & try to sleep. Laboring through the night is hard, which we knew well from Asher’s. So, I did as she said & woke up randomly through the night for some contractions that were more intense.

5:30 a.m. came & we knew this was the day. I prayed she would come on a Friday so it would be easy for Josh to get off work & for my Mom to come the next day. October 10 was, indeed, a Friday. Friends came back & got Asher, relieving my anxiety about where he would go & that meant the world to me. (thanks Jenn & Tina… If you’re reading this. I still get tears thinking about you guys jumping in like you did.)

Seven hours of labor, into the world came Saige Malyn Tilford. I loved this labor. It was filled with raw pain. If you’ve lived for more than five seconds in this world you know that pain is inevitable. If you can embrace that pain & let it grow you, chances are it will birth something more beautiful than you could ever imagine.

I remember thinking throughout labor that I had done everything right this time around—we planned this pregnancy. I ran up to 34 weeks & when I couldn’t run, I swam, lifted weights, & walked. I drank water like it was oxygen & sipped herbal tea every single day. I made her little clothes with my own hands, per the help of my skilled Mom. I prayed over her without ceasing. I labored really well with her. I didn’t fight against it. I embraced the pain & let it do what it was supposed to. I moved around with contractions. I birthed her at home, without medication or any type of intervention. I did all I was supposed to do to bring our sweet baby girl into this world.

Saige came into the world crying and didn’t stop. I kept thinking that with doing everything right & everything falling into place just as I had prayed, why is this little girl so unhappy here?

She cried for months, day in & day out. We tried everything there was to try—essential oils, massages, warm baths, cutting things out of my diet, dimmed lights, singing, no noise, white noise, gripe water, long drives, long walks… She just cried. We lived in a tiny apartment at the time with paper-thin walls…I felt crushingly anxious trying to shush her with concerns for our neighbors.

I got mastitis twice  & have never felt sicker. I could barely walk due to the high fever & exhaustion but was still demanded by a little baby who had to be walked around or she would scream, and a toddler who also needed to be fed, changed, & bathed.

For a couple of weeks I held it together. You see, at the time I was working as the Prayer Coordinator for a ministry that is so dear to my heart—Hope Mommies. Hope Mommies is for women whose sweet babies have gone to Jesus. So, I held it together knowing how much of a gift it was/is to have a crying baby in my home. I didn’t want to complain about how hard it was or even visit the potential post partum depression creeping in. I felt like I would insult the many friends I have who cannot conceive, who have lost, or who are desperately longing for motherhood.

So, I remained silent & held back my tears until I could hide behind a shower curtain, sit down, & cry as if the water pouring above me would wash away the pain I felt. Or I would let the tears well up until 3 am, when it was just Saige & me… and those warm tears would soak my face, dripping onto my tiny baby girl. Silenced by the guilt I felt that I was loathing this season of motherhood, I was loathing the season of teeny-tiny baby that moms are “supposed” to be welled up with pride in. I was welled up with anger, exhaustion, guilt, & pain.

I came to a breaking point, as we humans tend to do. Suicidal thoughts began coming into my head. Thoughts of getting into a car crash that would put me in the hospital just so I could get some sleep sounded glorious. I told Josh, weeping, that I thought I needed help, to talk to someone outside of our friends & family because I couldn’t bring myself to say aloud to anyone who loved our little girl what I was thinking.

So, I went to this counselor. I spilled out every thought. I told her I wasn’t bonding with my baby & didn’t like my baby very much. My hands & voice were shaking & teeth clenched tightly, as if I wasn’t really the ones saying those words. I told her I wanted to run far away, back to a family of three because Saige was too hard for me. It takes my breath away now to even be typing these words out… not because I feel guilt for sharing them, but because when I allow myself to revisit this season fully, I remember how exceptionally hard it was.

(This is reason number 189 why I have loved our experiences with mid-wives. I don’t know many doctors who hand out their cell numbers to patients & who text with you post-delivery about feeling depressed. Our midwife did. She immediately pointed me in the direction to a counselor. She urged it. And, I am so glad I did.)

Over the months I have ready many blogs here & there about post partum depression, about colicky babies, & in reading the rawness of these Mama’s words I found so much hope. I share the ugly truth, but real truth, of this in hopes that it would comfort another Mom. You’re not alone. I know you love your baby, just like I love mine. It is HARD to bond with another human who is constantly screaming & draining every bit of reserved energy you thought you had. It’s hard when your own Mom lives states away & cannot come help you as you nurse for the 30^th time in two hours with cracked  & bleeding nipples, the pain of mastitis, & exhaustion that is sickening. It’s hard to not let yourself just sob because you are trying to celebrate & be overjoyed by the immense gift life is. The pressure to ask for help because you know you CANNOT do another hour of it; the guilt for not having the courage to burden someone else is hard.

For about four months our world looked like this. I finally learned that she enjoyed the jogging stroller & took to running with the kids—something I said would always be Josh’s job as “solo runs are my thing” wasn’t an option in regards to my sanity. Josh would take the first shift & be up with her til around 2 a.m. & then I would be up with her from 2 a.m. on. Every 30 minutes to an hour Saige would be up, screaming. It was crushing.  

Around month four we moved into our first home all together. To say we were thrilled was an understatement. This house is a dream come true. We back up to one of our favorite mountains in Chattanooga, with trails right out our door. It’s an old home, which I have wanted since I was a little girl.

 If you have followed our world at all the past year you know how rough the first go at home-owning has been for us. We have been robbed twice, a rat infestation, raccoons move into the attic, a giant Oak tree fall from our yard & crush our neighbor’s roof, plumbing leak(ing) from the upstairs, a whole forest of mold growing in our storage room, & in the midst of that our car died. In the adult world everything comes at a cost. On top of extreme sleep deprivation were the issues that seemed never-ending, unpredictable, wildly expensive, & way beyond our skill set. Not only to things like this come at a monetary cost but they also come at an emotional cost. Josh & I were so incredibly drained. We were holding onto dangling threads of our marriage, barely feeling whole. We were a great team, don’t get me wrong; but, marriage is much more than just being a team, you know? To throw one more wrench in our little world, relationships weren’t going so well either. We had miscommunications with people we were supposed to be doing life with, constantly. We felt lonely in our struggles despite sharing honestly with how much we were hurting. We believe strongly in the power of prayer; but when friends are telling you they will pray for you when you just need someone to come & be with you, it’s hard to swallow again & again & again.

*Steps onto soapbox*  ahem, if you have friends who are drowning, admittedly, in hardships of life you should pray for them, yes. Beg God to give them peace, courage, wisdom, & his presence. But, please…please don’t let your love stop there. Show up. Hug them tightly when you see them. Ask HOW you can come & help. Take a meal even when they say no. Offer to come & hold that screaming baby so they can take a nap together. It will inconvenience you. Helping them & showing up at their door will not fit into your world. You may even feel drained by their lack of tact or their inability to communicate well or their selfishness. But, at least you get to go home at the end of the day. There’s a good chance the emotions you stepped into for a few hours are their norm & they needed you to carry that with them for a little bit.  And, if you disagree with what I’m pleading here, stop & go read James because he says it all much better than me.

To those who showed up, thank you. You know who you are. To the sweet friends who lives miles away who texted me & stayed in touch through it all, thank you. You have no idea how much your consistency warmed my heart that felt broken. Not to mention that in buying this new home, we gained some neighbors who have brought a wave a fresh air into our world that we were gasping for. Kris & Randy, should you read this, we are really, really so grateful for the ways you guys have loved our family. Words do no justice.

This little blog post, I have been putting together in my head for a few days now. I sat at a red light the other day, thinking through some ideas for Saige’s first birthday & tears poured out uncontrollably. A weight fell on my chest & my heart began to beat much faster than normal.

“It’s been a year.” I kept thinking over & over. It’s been one hell of a tremendous year.

Let me interject on my own narrative & share that this year hasn’t been complete darkness. We have adventured together on beautiful hikes, laughed a lot, eaten great food, made a lot of new friends who have loved our kids like family, celebrated weddings, praised Jesus for clean bills of health, & had joy, peace, & favor. I know that in the darkness we have felt, the bits of light that crept in have also been just as overwhelmingly sweet. I am grateful.