“And Mary kept all these things, reflecting on them in her heart.“
Luke 2:19, NAB
When I went into the hospital on November 30th, I gave myself permission to take it easy for a while. I was supposed to have a whole lot more done before that happened–a proposed table of contents for a new book, a couple of columns, some music. The early delivery rearranged my plans; the NICU stay gave me time to get done more than I thought. But when I came home, I gave myself until the first of the year to rest, to recover, to adjust…in short, simply to be.
Some of it has been stressful, some of it sublime. I’ve handled it with grace, and without. But at all times, I’ve tried to stop and really be present to the moment–to feel it in my body, not just in some compartmentalized corner of my brain, or with my eyes through the screen of a digital camera. In the past month, I have sat in my nursing corner in the darkness and watched Orion trek across the night sky. I have sat there on bright mornings, with the newborn sun aglow on the walls while my other children play on my bed, reducing each other to helpless, jelly-kneed giggles while they wait their turn to hold Baby Brother. I have gotten back under the covers with my family, three, four, five people lined up across two pillows, and run my hands over each one, glorying in the distinct progression against my palms as I touch arms and faces: adulthood, age six, almost- five, almost-three, and infancy.
I have watched yet another baby work his magic on everyone around him. I have tiptoed around an umbilical cord stump that refused to fall off, tried to soothe him through very cold baths on a towel on the bathroom floor. Changed diapers that smell cheesy and yeasty, and didn’t hold my nose, admitting softly to myself that I actually kind of like that breastmilk-diaper smell.
I have slept in, napped in the sunny (and not-so-sunny) afternoons, watched movies, done very little housework, occasionally overdone it and paid the price in my incisions. I have gone to way too many medical appointments and never bothered to take work with me, choosing instead to hold a baby and be still instead of productive while I waited in overheated waiting rooms. The last two days, I have lounged back to enjoy the solid, warm soft weight of a child against my chest, pressing my nose to his head to breathe in that scent of Heaven, the smell of chrism, while my lips press against silky eyebrows and satin skin.
And now it is January third, and time is up. The baptism and extended holiday visits from family members have gifted me with some extra days, but now reality begins to settle back in, bit by bit: cooking, cleaning, laundry, lessons, deadlines. But the experience has taught me that I need a new balance for a new year–one that achieves fewer words or notes on a page and more moments. One that involves being present when my children are filling my soul instead of keeping my brain busy in the background working on some problem to be solved at naptime.
Today is bath day, and I think when I put Michael in the tub for the first time (his recalcitrant cord finally gave up the ghost on the last night of the old year), I won’t wash his hair. Maybe not the next time, either. The smell of chrism won’t last forever–the scent of Heaven will fade along with the inner hum of stillness found this past month, as normal life settles in once more. But while it lasts, I can use it to anchor myself in the resolve for this new year.
Oh man, I love the smell of chrism!
I think Vincent went 10 days without his head being washed after his baptism. I smelled in that scent of heaven as often and for as long as I could.
Aww, you made this pregnant mom of “almost” four tear up with this beautiful post! I’m looking forward to welcoming our little stranger in July and just “being” with him or her. I’ve formed a few deep and powerful impressions of God while nursing a baby! Your son is BEAUTIFUL, by the way. God bless him and your family! Thanks for blogging!
Oh, I miss that smell so much! I had forgotten.
Also, I admire you enormously for working at home with little ones around. I did that on Friday and … well, I really admire you. And I’m glad you’re considering more moments.
Thank you all for your comments…I think someone should market a chrism-scented perfume. I’d totally buy it. But maybe that would be sacreligious? 🙂
You are truly an expert with words Kate! I don’t know how but you overwhelm my senses with you descriptions and still bring across such strong points in your blog! Congratulations again and enjoy this life God has given you!
Very well done. Oh, I forgot to add ‘be here in the moment’ to my ‘lower the bar’ New Year’s Resolutions. God bless you and your beautiful family.
Being able to be in the moment, choosing how we will be at a given time while in that moment…it’s a wonderful feeling and something I definitely strive toward. Rather than saying I will do the dishes at 3:00, I will live normally, and if, at 3:00, I am in need of a nap, I’m going to nap. It’s come at a large price, the realization that I am nothing if I am not wholly there for my children. I cannot be wholly there if I am tired or otherwise harried or distracted. Congratulations on the newest member of your family and best of luck for all your endeavors for 2012.
Scent of heaven, sent from heaven. Was it deliberate? 🙂
I know what you mean about those moments. I have a meme on my blog called Sabbath Moments and it is all about finding time to just BE.
Beautiful post. Beautiful baby.
I have lounged back to enjoy the solid, warm soft weight of a child against my chest…
Newborns are such a drug.
Beautiful. I can fail at just being there in the moment a lot, too. But then sometimes I still let my 21-month-old nap on me, savouring her smell and closeness. Bliss.
The busier we are the more we need to make time to just be.
awww! I ALWAYS say new babies smell JUST like heaven.
cherish this time no matter what 😉
Thank you for sharing!
such a sweet sweet baby pic!