Ilona: One Month 1.8.13

January 8 marks Ilona Noelle's one month birthday! Time is strange. It feels like just yesterday we were meeting her for the first time and taking in all her newness. But, at the same time it's getting harder and harder to remember time before she was a part of our lives. Isn't that always the way?

Here are Ilona's one month stats. If you're confused, we are too. Somehow, we had incorrect information at her birth day, and she was actually only 19 inches long. She is now 21 inches long. birth: 7 pounds, 10 ounces; 19.3 inches long (49 cm); head circumference 13.4 inches around (34 cm) 10 days later: 7 pounds, 5 ounces; 19.7 inches long (50 cm); head circumference 13.9 inches around (35.3 cm) one month: 8 pounds, 6 ounces; 21.3 inches long (54 cm); head circumference 14.6 inches around (37 cm) And now some of her firsts for her first month: First (documented) looks

First nap at home

First doctor ordered "sun tan" (vitamin d deficient)

First family photo

First reflexes

First nap with daddy

First daddy swaddle

First finger finding

First bath

First manicure

First family walks

First Christmas

First smile (on cue??)

First pacifier

First New Years Eve

First time rolling over!! Click on this link

something new

you wouldn't know it by looking outside your window, but something new is being born amidst the snow covered lawn and branches encased with layer upon thick layer of ice. in the dead of winter, new life is yearning to emerge from the stillness of what looks like nothing at all. one day we will see. a tiny bud sprouting from beneath the tired earth. one day we will hear. the song of a flight of birds welcoming the new day. one day we will feel once again. the warmth of the sun bearing now upon our exposed skin and reminding us that we, too, are alive.

in this season of stillness, death and quiet, you wouldn't know it but God is birthing a new spirit within me as well. a spirit that is learning to wait more and rush less. one that desires to listen instead of always needing to be heard. a person defined less by what i can do and more by who i am becoming. a mother learning to die daily to her own needs and put the needs of another life before her own. someone who desires to walk out her front door in faith, unsure of the wheres and the hows and the whys... resting completely in the presence of He who walks before me.

following days and weeks and months of uprooting and re-cultivating myself, i have chosen to pause. to rest and to just be. i have no idea how to do that, and have realized i have been running for far too long. chasing something always just out of my reach. the unattainable. following good, but not always timely pursuits. missing the moments of today because of the regrets of yesterday and fears for tomorrow. learning to be mindful of my thoughts, my feelings, my actions and my experiences has proven to be a challenge worth pursuing. "be still and know that I AM GOD" has taken on a whole new meaning for me in this season of slowing down. daily i have to fight the desire to fill my suddenly open days with good, but meaningless hurry, and to turn up the volume of so many distractions so that i can't even feel the moment i am living.

my hope in this opportunity of open spaces and unstructured time is that i would truly embrace each moment. to slow down and really feel the new life i am living today. to quiet my thoughts and cease my plans for the time being. just to be and to allow something new to be born in my soul.

Thoughts on Leaving

We leave Honduras today with mixed emotions. In some ways these have been the shortest two years we've experienced, and in other ways the absolute longest days on record. :) We've come a long way since moving here in 2011 and I'm feeling so much unexpected gratitude for that today. Half of our marriage was lived out here; some of our most precious moments together as a couple with a few of our most hopeless mixed in there, too. Our first daughter was "Hecho en Honduras" and born during this time. Leaving Chicago two years ago, who'd have thought we'd return a family of three? Ilona has been such a bright light in our lives these past 6 months. Also, I've been stretched personally in ways I cannot even begin to understand yet. And professionally we have had such uniquely challenging and rewarding experiences, which I'm sure we will continue to learn from for the rest of our careers. We now have friends literally all over the world. Our Honduran friends have affirmed their love for us by simply reminding me that we will always have a home here with them and in their hearts. We feel the same. Our international friends are moving all over the globe and will likely continue for sometime, making any future travel plans I have up my sleeve just a bit easier and more exciting. Saying goodbye to our new friends, who became family to us the past two years, proved to be a heartbreaking thing. It frankly, sucked. But they say something here: nos vemos: we will see you. I think I prefer that to adios: go with God. There's something more open ended and promising about nos vemos. Of course I pray and hope for God's continued protection and provision for my friends, but nos vemos gives me hope for the slightest chance of a Honduran reunion. So that's what it has to be. Nos vemos.

Now as our return home awaits us by only hours, I'm left in the wee hours of the morning with only my thoughts. I've been asked essentially the same question from different people, and I'm still striving for an answer. "What are you hoping for in this next change?" The most obvious answer, of course, is to be reunited with friends and family, introducing Ilona to everyone and just picking up where we left off. That's sure to happen to some degree, but I also realize we are different, I am different, and you are different, so there's going to be a learning period where we adjust to the new reality of life in the States.

The more hidden answer to that question, and one that I don't completely understand yet, is that I want to stay "changed" by this experience and never forget anything. The good and the bad I want to hold in my heart, accepting the things I've heard, seen and felt as a part of my journey.

I want my heart to remain soft for people, and to continue spending it on behalf of others no matter the cost or sacrifice to myself. I want to enter in to the deep, confusing emotions of leaving a place that I somehow hate yet love so fiercely, and just accept that that's my experience. It's complicated and that's okay.

I always want to see people and look in their eyes. It was a challenge to drive or walk past so many hurting people living on the street where we lived, so much so that I thought many times how much easier it would be to cross the street and walk on the other side. After all, did the pocket change we give actually make a difference? I'm not sure. I did see, though, how even smiling to greet people and looking into their eyes does in fact seem to make a difference. Validating someone's humanity is part of how, I believe, God calls us to love others. We didn't "do" enough here to help people, and I think that's probably always going to be true. We'll never "do" enough, but that's not our mission. Jesus came to love and to "do" and His sacrifice was enough. That frees me to give all that I have and all that I am, whatever that looks like in the moment and in each particular life season, to just loving others. Loving with our words and actions. I think for me that means I need to always look for opportunities to love others and then go after them with a soft and willing heart. I need to always make eye contact, first and foremost, even when it's awkward and uncomfortable. I always need to give when asked. Jason and I decided to give whenever someone asks of us, and it's incredibly freeing. It's not our job to judge the request or ensure the person is deserving. When asked, we want to always give and to give joyfully. That's what we're striving for as one way we can commit to always loving others.

I have been allowed a lot of time here to consider how I want to mother Ilona and how we want to grow our family of three when we're home. Living internationally has broadened our perspective of family and widened our understanding of the world, and we want to remain changed by that. I want Ilona to always know she is fearfully and wonderfully made, just like the rest of God's magnificent creation- the wildlife, trees, animals, other billions of people. I want her to know deep in her soul that she is loved unconditionally by her parents and her Heavenly Father, but that she is a small part of God's eternal picture. I'm not sure how to raise her in a world whose message is overwhelmingly, "me, me, me". "Put yourself first". "Look out for your family only". "You better provide for yourself well both now and in the decades to come, because no one else will." I think these messages reject the Word of God. "Be anxious for nothing". "As I have loved you, so you must love one another". " The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want". We want to learn more how to be in the world, but not of it and raise Ilona in the same way. I think it comes down to your heart, "for where your heart is there your treasure will be also". And so, I hope for the future that our hearts grow more in love with God and that out of that abundance we can give freely of ourselves to others and to the world around us- both near and far.

This is an overwhelming day. Leaving and Coming. I have had some closure, but it seems I still have more questions than answers. I have to learn to be okay with that. I can't wrap this experience up neatly, something I'm very uncomfortable with, so I have to leave my heart soft and mind open for how these short two years in Honduras will continue to change me and my family. I'll keep my eyes open. Nos vemos.

thoughts on mothering

"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to heaven, we were all going direct the other way - in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only."

i'm almost certain that charles dickens did not write this quote from The Tale of Two Cities in reference to parenting, or even more specifically to mothering. that being said, for me, it encapsulates so much of my experience in these short few months so far. you can see from the dichotomy of comparison (best/worst, light/darkness, wisdom/foolishness, everything/nothing) that mothering is like nothing you'll ever experience. there i go again... comparing. mothering is like nothing i have experienced. dickens even explains why we so often seek to compare, when our experience is so far outside of our understanding and present reality, that we must compare to stand any chance of making sense of it all. for me, the comparing hits hardest when i'm in the worst of times, the darkness and the moments of despair and when i feel i have nothing in me that prepares me for this unbelievable task.

and then there are the other-worldly moments of Light, belief and hope...those are the best of times. the giggles you hear in response to something you did, or to nothing explainable at all. the smile that takes over her entire face as you engage with her in the simple, everyday moments. the deep eye-locking gazes she blesses me while nursing that remind me how much better relationships can be when we just stop, pause and really look at someone else.

i have found myself thinking and often even saying, "this is the absolute hardest thing i have ever done...i don't think i can keep on keeping on". how many times can i utter those shameful words for them to retain their meaning?

i have had the unique and treasured experience of staying home with Ilona these past 3 and half months, with few other distractions to keep me from just learning how to mother her and love her with my entire being. today, as i watch my daughter peacefully napping beside me, i am reminded mostly of the incredible moments of complete and unexplainable joy that i have felt in these best of times. when i'm not wallowing in my feelings of loss, selfishness and complete exhaustion, i can see Ilona for what she is. a gift that i have begged years for. a light that already reflects the beauty of all that is Good in this world. a new person in my life who will likely teach me more than i can even realize about how to live well and how to love others.

maternity leave is almost over and my heart is heavy. how do mothers separate from someone who has so captured a piece of their heart they didn't even know existed? i have watched many mothers in my life do this painfully, yet with grace. i know i have said it before, and i will likely say it again, but i think leaving Ilona to work will be the hardest thing i have ever had to do.

Grandma "Lita"

Ilona, Jason and I were beyond blessed to spend the last couple of weeks with my mom, now lovingly referred to as "Lita" (short for Abuelita, aka: Grandma, in spanish). From their first moments together Ilona and Lita were two peas in a pod. We made so many wonderful memories together this week! Grandma and Baby bonded. We went to the beach. Mom stayed up all night cuddling little Ilona so Jason and I could get some uninterrupted sleep. We ate like kings and didn't have to wash a single dish. We visited some of the comforts of the city, "the bathing suit lady", Crown Plaza Pool, Power Chicken and City Mall to escape the 100 degree heat. Here is a snapshot (literally) of our first time together as Mother, Daughter and Granddaughter. We love you Mom and are so very grateful for your sacrificial love!

The magic touch


Lita and Ilona bonding time


Pool Day


Playing with my Lita


3 Month Appt with Dr. Hawit