I am sitting here reflecting on the fact that my youngest son, The Young Master, has turned 12 today and I cannot help but notice how time has changed my perspective of my memories:

what once was exhausting and almost painful has now turned precious in hindsight…

His birthday always leads me to the song Baby Mine from the Disney movie Dumbo. I share it every year on Facebook- no birthday is complete without a Facebook post after all!!

Bear with me while I walk you down memory lane…into the story that has led to the creation of the name “The Young Master” for my darling second born.

The pregnancy itself was completely unlike my first pregnancy. In that one, I was almost apathetic towards most things. There was no “rosy, I-feel-so-beautiful-, glow” happening for me! I experienced a lack of taste for food instead of the crazy cravings both my husband and I were looking forward to laughing over. Eating became a necessity but I never wanted anything in particular….until I  absolutely had to eat and then I quickly devoured whatever was easiest to consume before I threw up.

Good times.

I rarely-to-never felt my first baby move when he was in the womb. In fact, I had to have two ultrasounds because he refused to change positions so the tech could appropriately see and measure the four ventricles in his brain- even though I had treated myself to a Coke Slurpee prior to my appointment!

My first came into the world 5 weeks earlier than planned- before a baby shower, the hospital tour, or our home preparation. There was no “babymoon” for us!

After he was born, we realized our oldest was as laid back outside of the womb as he was inside it- and he still is to this day 14 years later!

And then came the Young Master.

By 5 months pregnant, I was HUGE. I waddled as if I was carrying twins! He was measuring “big” already and I was eating as if he were chewing the food himself!

I must say- that was not a bad thing.

I have NEVER, in my life before or since, experienced how wonderful food tastes like I did when I was carrying that child!!!

The other massive difference between the two pregnancies was how much he moved inside of me….all the time…24/7. The joy of watching my stomach move as he shifted positions was nothing short of sheer magic!!

I should have recognized that he was making his presence known in a powerful way!

His brother was super sick with a high fever the day he decided to be born. He had been trying to “get out” since I was 32 weeks pregnant but flat out refused to come down the birth canal! We scheduled a C-section for that coming Thursday but he decided he was going to make it happen on a Sunday when we were not ready for him at all!

He came into this world at a fast pace 12 years ago today! And he came out SCREAMING!

Wowza….could that kid cry.

We had a pediatrician tell us that we should not be surprised if he either made himself throw up from crying or pass out from holding his breath when angry…

Great.

Here comes my exhausted and painful memory turned precious….

My sweet angel baby with devil horns would awaken in the middle of the night for his feedings or because he wanted to….we never knew what to expect! But, heaven help the parent, that HE DID NOT WANT at that particular moment in time!

The screaming would commence and WOULD NOT STOP UNTIL THE YOUNG MASTER STOPPED IT. Period. No easy way out or simple fix.

He was not colicky- I feel I must make that clear. He was, and is, a strong-willed child. Our methods and experiences are completely unlike the struggles a family endures with a colicky baby or a chronically ill child.

Enter in a rocking chair and Disney lullabies.

We had an old wooden rocker sitting by his crib with a small ottoman nearby….in that chair (because I was “assigned” the 3 am feeding/fit so my husband could go to work at 6 am) I would rock in the limited light provided by either a small lamp or a night light and would hit “play” on the CD player that sat on the nightstand between the chair and wall.

In REAL TIME, I remember the tension knot that formed between my shoulder blades during these episodes. The pressure created was so severe I would have pain if I turned my head a certain way so it was necessary to hold my “gift from God” only in a specific angle to my shoulder.

I remember pleading with him to go to sleep and not wake up his brother.

I remember cursing my husband for sleeping while I sat here in the middle of the night with a baby who would not be comforted.

I remember begging for sleep to come….for peace to come into him because I had no idea what was wrong…if anything was that is.

I was not a “praying parent” but I imagine I talked to God in those nights….wondering where I had failed this child who refused to be comforted or at rest in his own bed.

So….we rocked and listened to lullabies in the darkness.

This Baby Mine liked to be held.

I think he liked my humming while we softly rocked.

He liked our shared warmth.

He liked the unity between us as we both fought the night together.

If I am totally honest, I liked it too.

Now, he is 12 and there is no more rocking.

That’s what makes the memory so precious to me now…

Can you hear the cry of an angry, hungry, wet, cold newborn breaking into the dark of night as you sleep? Do you feel the cool floor as your feet steady underneath you providing balance when your eyes have not fully opened yet? Do you sense the quietness in the house while this one solitary noise shatters into it?

The hushed murmurings begin before you even enter his darkened, Peter Rabbit decorated room…inside the crib is this soft, warm pile of pajama and diaper- squirming in discomfort that he cannot solve for himself.

With eyes barely open and brain not functioning, you reach into the crib and pull him from his disarray and hold him close to prepare for a feeding…his little mouth begins to suckle your cheek in preparation with his warm breath tickling your ear.

After he is fed and his diaper is changed, he wants a little more time with you in this stillness…so you sit in a hard chair that your own mom sat in holding you when you were a baby: you begin to rock with him high against your shoulder and slowly pat his back to ensure there is no air bubble left inside him causing his unease.

He only cries when you attempt to put him back into his bed…so it seems best for the rest of the household to make the choice to continue to sit in the dark humming…

Happiest of birthdays to my darling boy who will never let me forget whose mom I am.

I said this before-

I cannot help but notice how time has changed my perspective of my memories:

what once was exhausting and almost painful has now turned precious in hindsight…

How many other times can be like that in our lives?

And what a blessing it is when what was once so painful can be changed into something precious. The circumstance or situation does not change, the past cannot be undone, but the perspective of seeing it can be.

My daily devotion for today writes “hoping for something different is useless when your hope depends on circumstances that might or might not change. The writer of this Psalm had learned something different: he anchored his hope on God, whose track record for doing the right thing at the right time is completely reliable (emphasis mine)…Take a hope break today. Sit with the God of all hope. Ask him to help you find your hope again. He will” (The 365 Most Important Bible Passages for Mothers 286).

No matter what we are going through, the intentional reminder of the faithfulness of God will carry on with strength…and His loving favor can and will restore and redeem that which is not pleasant or tolerable from our past.

I am thankful for the Father who never lets me forget whose child I am…

A child who likes

 to be held….

 humming of praise, comfort, security, and remembrance as we rock softly…

our shared warmth…

the unity between us as we both fight the night together.