Lottie Turns One

Our dear Lottie,

Today you are one. Everyone says it because everyone is right - it was the fastest and best year of my life. Except the "best" part doesn't seem quite right. Language fails to explain how good this year was because you were here in the middle of it, turning our lives upside down in the best possible way. How is it possible that a year with an above average amount of emotion and exhaustion and confusion can still be the best? Well, better than best. Like I said when you were this teeny tiny newborn, you split our hearts wide open and continue to do so. Sometimes I think if I run full speed into a very very hard wall then I just might be able to physically feel the amount of feels I have for you. [Anyone else? Just me?]

We have quickly turned into those totally obnoxious parents thanks to you. We hang on every new sound and discovery and dance move. Never did I ever think I'd be so excited to hear you say "bah bah" after I hold up the sheep puzzle piece. Granted, all the animals say "bah bah" at this point, but it totally counts girlfriend! Other than the obnoxious thing, you've taught us lots about ourselves and God's love for us. You've taught us to trust Him more, remembering that He loves you so much more than I ever could imagine. Though that doesn't stop me from peeking in at you every night to make sure you're breathing. I'm not sure how long that will last - 3 years old? 16ish?

Whether I'm watching you sleep or downing some steamed carrots in your high chair or playing in the living room, I imagine this big bright and sparkly and exciting life coiled up inside all your smallness. I know they'll be some rocky valleys where the Lord [I'm praying] will draw you nearer to Himself. But right now, sparkles [mixed with cheerio crust] are the vibe I'm getting from your precious one year old self. Regardless, I'm on the edge of my seat, watching it all unfold with every new discovery and word and milestone. We are so thankful for you and how you have changed everything about this wonderful life. We love you. You are better than best.

new-ish year

I had lots of plans and thoughts and scribbles for a new year post. One about a fresh start and no big impending change for this year (you know, like a baby) and feeling like this is normal compared to the fog of new parenthood that was 2015. And also a post about this undercurrent of potential change and praying and seeking and feeling clueless all at the same time. But it's not really any of those things fully. And I'm beginning to understand that that's a good thing.

See, I would have said that we feel like the Lord has something potentially different for us. (That's that undercurrent I was talking about. We don't know what it is, but we don't think the both of us are making it up.) And I would have said we are "seeking the Lord" on what that is. And even "waiting patiently." But when I step back and take a look at my days as a whole, I'm not. I'm saying a quick prayer about it as I'm reading down my request list. We're praying about it before bed, half asleep. And in the meantime I'm worrying about D's stress level (part of the potential change reasoning), researching real estate in different places, and asking advice from others. Not to mention slightly obsessing over Lottie's birthday, cleaning house, taking care of lots of different obligations I've said yes to, having lunch with friends, forcing baby sign language on my child (she's going to sign "please" if it kills me), day dreaming, texting, social media-ing it up, watering house plants (lol, they wish), picking up living room toys yet again, cursing Jillian Michaels, slowly responding to work emails. The list goes on. Once D gets home, I find my list still half way done and myself explaining to him that it seems so difficult to get anything for real done with our precious little mobile chick. And I find the days flying by. One after another after another. Each feeling like a total blur. It gives me whip lash just to think back on the last week.

I look at those days and think - they're all pretty good things. They were happy days. But the noise created by those days left me feeling "clueless" and "stuck." Quotation marks because I've said those exact things to D numerous times. There are two things that I know: 1) I want to follow Jesus step by step by step, wherever He leads, wherever He desires us to be. We say that we'd rather live uncomfortably inside God's will instead of comfortably outside of it. And we want to stop just saying it. And 2) I want to be a wife whose family knows that they are living in God's will and favor and blessings partly because they're wife and mom wouldn't let their names fall from the Lord's ears. (I totally stole that from somewhere that I can't remember, but it's true.) I just want to bug him to death about them (oh dang, the theology, I know).

So I'm going to clear out some noise. I mean, I really like a lot of it. I love communication and encouragement (and tv). But the ratios need to shift a little. Because The Bachelor + The Today Show vs. Jesus in a pie chart might be a really sad sight right now. And that's still just a small piece of what consumes my day and thoughts and efforts. I'm clearing out some noise because I feel that it's the only way I'll start making even small strides towards those two goals above. And besides them being the two things that I want most, He is deserving of that. I don't have to even worry about giving anything up simply because of who He is. He is the Great I AM. The fullness of that name makes my head want to explode. More fullness is not possible. HOW COOL IS THAT? And having that ability because of knowing who He is makes me want to know Him and His promises more. I'm missing so much!

Even if the questions aren't answered and this year feels somewhat in between and unglamorous, we will stand on the promise that He will faithfully lead us when and where we wants if we'll just get rid of some noise and listen. I want to do my part so that the wondering will be eliminated. Because even if He isn't moving us - He's doing His part. I mean, sometimes I wish I could just have it the easy way - a big road sign or billboard or, you know, a pillar a fire. He does it that way sometimes. But not most times. What kind of relationship does that build anyway? Not one of intimacy and reliance day in and day out. And that's what I want with the Great I AM. So that He'll lead us where He wants, no matter where that is. Because "God is good to us and God is good at being God" (preach, Lysa T.). I guess what I'm saying is that I'm realizing more and more how much of a responsibility I have in this relationship. Duh, right?

One quick word on getting rid of noise in a non-audible sense. Can I tell you how much less brain fog I have after cleaning out my closets and other stackable surfaces? I actually still look around and think WHAT'S WITH ALL THIS STUFF?! And I can say this, because never have I ever claimed to be OCD or tidy or whatever that gift is. So it truly does make a difference to someone who doesn't mind clutter. After Christmas, we came home with baby's first Christmas gifts from two families (OMG) and several boxes worth of stuff that I wanted from my grandmother's house. So I seriously slowly cleaned everything out, loving the feeling of it more and more with every closet and cabinet. And I really think that Lord used that as part of my realization about noise. He had to use getting rid of my outdated college decor (easy) to work up to getting rid of other noise (really hard - I'm looking at you Matt and Savannah because I LOVE YOU SO MUCH).

So that's where I am. Seeking God without as much noise. I mean, I'm still in the getting-rid-of-noise process and probably always will be. I don't expect life made up of serene days with plenty of time to read and highlight and pray. See: almost twelve month old. And I'm certain things will get even more crazy during these (Lord willing) big family raising years. So I'll start now with the optional noise (because, let's be honest, a lot of it isn't all that optional) and try to choose Jesus and get back up when I will surely fail a lot. A lot, y'all. Because with less noise I'll get to know Jesus more and will be able to stand on His promises day in and day out, wherever we happen to be that day and whatever the Lord allows to happen.

I went to a conference where Lysa Terkeurst spoke a lot about standing on God's promises and "establishing a pattern of promises." It was awesome, but the point of me saying that is to tell you that I've had the hymn "Standing on the Promises" stuck in my head all week like any good baptist girl. It was always one of my faves growing up - kind of upbeat and the men with the deeper voices would do that fun little echo part. I looked up the lyrics while I was thinking about this. So good, y'all.

Standing on the promises of Christ my King,

Through eternal ages let His praises ring,

Glory in the highest, I will shout and sing,

Standing on the promises of God.

Refrain:

Standing, standing,

Standing on the promises of God my Savior;

Standing, standing,

I’m standing on the promises of God.

Standing on the promises that cannot fail,

When the howling storms of doubt and fear assail,

By the living Word of God I shall prevail,

Standing on the promises of God.

Standing on the promises I now can see

Perfect, present cleansing in the blood for me;

Standing in the liberty where Christ makes free,

Standing on the promises of God.

Standing on the promises of Christ the Lord,

Bound to Him eternally by love’s strong cord,

Overcoming daily with the Spirit’s sword,

Standing on the promises of God.

Standing on the promises I cannot fall,

List’ning every moment to the Spirit’s call,

Resting in my Savior as my all in all,

Standing on the promises of God.

So. Less noise, more promises. Working on it!

remembering mamaw loyce

Most of life seems gradual, moving from one milestone to the next with all sort of busyness in between. Though every so often we stop in our tracks and think, I can't believe we've lived in this house three years already, or when did you get so tall? Also, where did my newborn/infant/toddler go? And even with those moments of realization along the way, life continues to barrel forward without us realizing it.

When we finally pulled up at mom's house the day of Mamaw's visitation, we piled our bags in the keeping room and all landed in mom's bedroom. Audrey and Anna were pulling out my old dance costumes and Lottie was rolling and smiling all over the palette mom had laid out for her. There were Mamaw's three great granddaughters - so full of life and youth, energy and giggles - surrounding mom, Moll, and myself as mom told us of Mamaw's last moments. About the peaceful way she left her earthly home with her daughter holding her hand, by her side like she always had been. In that moment I felt so proud to be a part of that line of mothers and daughters. And in that moment life didn't seem so gradual. We had experienced an ending. And with my precious six month old wiggling on the floor in front of me, the juxtaposition between life and death felt severe, heavy.

During visitation and the funeral, there was a lot of talk about Mamaw's love. It was a love of life and of people. It was spilled onto friends and family and strangers alike. It wasn't just something you say because someone died. She had an above average amount of love, and it was evident to everyone we spoke to over those couple of days. We heard "life of the party" a lot. That was so true. But she also loved us in the quiet, every day moments. Through comfort, through prayers, through food (really good food). It was so strange to be with our very large extended family (my mom is the youngest of 23 first counsins, daughters and sons of my grandmother's eight siblings), and Mamaw not be there. Because of her very large presence, she was easily missed. A Loyce-sized hole, some might say. It made me think a lot about the same thing that their long time pastor mentioned at the funeral - legacy. A legacy of love, simply put. And how desperately I want to continue that legacy - through comfort, prayers, food. Through how I raise my babies and support my husband. Through how I celebrate my friends and love every moment of life I've been given. "I just love this living," she would say. It showed.

Moll and I said a few words at her funeral. We're criers, so it was touch and go. But we knew we wanted everyone to know how much we loved our Mamaw. I added mine below so you could know a little of Mamaw Loyce too.

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I’m Meagan – Mamaw’s fifth grandchild and self-proclaimed favorite. Most of my family and friends call me Meg, but my favorite nickname – usually only heard at the occasional family reunion or kinfolk shower – is Little Loyce. It’s probably the Fallin coloring, but I sure hope that I can – at least some day – live up to the name. 

My Mamaw Loyce embodied the phrase “to know her is to love her.” And it sure didn’t matter if you knew her all your life or if it was a matter of minutes. There was never an outing where she didn’t make a new friend – from waiters to cashiers to stewardesses. It was natural and it was effortless because it was Mamaw. I’ll never forget asking her how one of her stints in physical therapy was going. She told me that that day had been better than others because some else was actually in the therapy room at the same time she was, and when she walked in she thought, “Oh look, somebody for me to talk to!”

I have a six month old baby girl. I thank the Lord for His gracious timing – that their precious lives overlapped and that Mamaw was able to love on her several times in her young life. That someone so dear to me was able to share in our excitement and joy at the birth of her third great granddaughter. And I thank Him that I had a grandmother who created such a legacy of love in our family. She walked with Jesus, and we were blessed by His love that Mamaw showed us. Because of Christ in Mamaw, I know what steadfast love looks like – it is firm, never-changing. It was the look on her face or the sound in her voice every time we visited or called. It was her consistent presence in our lives. It was so deep and fierce that its effects will outlive her and effect many future generations. I may never be able to make her hot water cornbread, but I hope and I pray that I can be a fraction of the mother, wife, sister, church member, friend, and – one day – grandmother that she was. And I hope, like Mamaw, that I have the time of my life doing it.

feed your baby

I suppose you don't want to tell a happily first-time-pregnant mom of the difficulties awaiting her when trying to do what seems like the most natural thing in the world - feeding her baby. I honestly expected to have no problem breastfeeding Lottie unless I was in the extremely small percentage of women whose milk never came in in the first place. After all, we had taken the class at the hospital. I read the book they gave us cover to cover (except the chapter about feeding multiples, praise Him). I practiced the cradle hold AND the football hold just days before Lottie's birth. It wasn't until I started raking in advice from fellow mamas that I realized that, for the majority of these families, feeding was the most treacherous and emotional and confusing part about having a newborn. It wasn't that some of those feedings took place in the middle of the night and you're all of a sudden sleeping like NOT AT ALL. No. It was that they had low supply or no supply or mastitis or a slow let down or an over active let down or a zillion other possible issues. It was what everyone was now saying that they cried the most over. Which I, of course, now understood since I was shocked to be in the thick of the most emotional three weeks of my life due to nursing issues.

Supposedly I had a sleepy eater with a bit of torticollis which gave her an "unorganized suck" as well as seemingly unsolvable low supply. Whatever. I couldn't feed my baby and I was shocked and heartbroken and exhausted and so very confused.

I'm glad to say that those feelings have subsided. My stomach no longer ties itself in knots every time we give our baby a bottle of formula. I don't hold her and cry hot, sad tears when she hungry cries while I have nothing left to give her instead of happy tears like during that week-o-ecstasy following her birth (and since!). The turning point from those unexpected low moments was one of the clearest conversations I've ever had with The Lord.

Ironically, it happened when I was driving to rent an infant intake scale from the private, in-home lactation consultant that had come to see us a few days earlier. We saw her after our pediatrician, after three visits to the hospital's LC who was finally out of ideas for me and my little non-eater (this was the emotionally low point), and after countless hours of research and picking the brains of loooots of very patient friends. The two days before I had "power pumped" (it sucks as much as it sounds, no pun intended) and was renting this scale so that we could weigh, nurse, weigh again, supplement, and then pump. And by the time it was all done, start over again thirty minutes later. But I was down for it. Very determined. Motivated by love and emotion and, unfortunately, a little bit of pride. I'd do it as long as it helped even though I was so desperate to know what our feeding situation would look like long term. What our normal would be.

This private LC had been amazing and incredibly knowledgeable. I counted eight friends who had used her and all said that she was the reason they were able to breastfeed. She was "magic" and "wonder woman," and I just knew that surely I wouldn't be one of the only people with an unsolvable issue. Plus, her website is literally feedyourbaby.com (SC friends - she really is amazing!), so SURELY she could fix us. See? Expectations are the killer. I was gripping onto expectations within my bigger, disintegrating expectations.

After several more days of that weighing and pumping and supplementing grind, unfortunately this magic-maker was eventually out of ideas for us too. But this time I wasn't as heartbroken as I was afraid I would be if it came to this, and that was because of that in-car conversation with a loving God. There's been few times when I've heard this clearly from the Lord. Most of the time it's through the truth of His Word. Or the encouragement from voices in our families and community. Maybe this time was different because He was speaking directly to the tender heart of a new mother. Maybe it was because all the wonderful people he was speaking through in my life weren't getting through my emotional fog.

I was driving and praying for this next strategy to work and that I would be able to exclusively breastfeed my baby just as I had prayed throughout pregnancy. When we first met with the LC, I had to fill out a form that informed her of any pregnancy and birth issues we had that may affect nursing. I checked a box next to PCOS, told her about a few pregnancy issues, and about the c-section. And when we were getting started with our appointment, she commented that we had had "quite the time of it" or something like that. To me, it was our normal. But as soon as she said that, I started feeling sorry for myself. We battled through a few issues already, couldn't this just be easy? Didn't I deserve to be able to do what was best for my baby?

After days of wallowing in those thoughts, I was reminded that we live in an imperfect, fallen world where our bodies don't work perfectly. Duh. And I was convicted for feeling like I deserved to be able to do this. That's a dangerous place to be. The only thing we deserve in this life is wrath and judgement and separation.

But because I haven't gotten what I deserve and have been given so much grace that nothing else should really compare, I could hear Him telling me to simply trust Him with feeding Lottie. I could hear Him remind me that He loves her so much more than I do. I'm sure it was the beginning of letting go of lots of control over her life. D had said that the Lord would give her all she needed, and that finally rang true with me. He even said that Jesus could turn that formula into breastmilk in her belly if He saw fit! I'm so thankful for his steady faithfulness. And I'm sure he's thankful for this clear conversation with the Lord so that I could finally talk without crying.

I had asked Him to make it clear to us how we should provide for her and for me to be able to joyfully follow His direction. I knew it would be hard to officially make the decision to stop all of the crazy remedies (even though they were officially not helping), and I'm so thankful for the peaceful transition into nursing and then offering Lottie a bottle since she was always still hungry. I was (and am) a peaceful appetizer. I am thankful for all the help that we received, but I had read so much and asked so many questions until I could feel my mothers intuition getting louder and saying STOP IGNORING ME. Because the Lord answered our prayer for direction, I was able to do what was best for us as a family instead of having "breast is best" flashing in my brain at every feeding. And though I agree with those annoying websites and blogs and message boards, I also wanted to punch them in the face every time they said "you CAN do this!" Nope. Can't, unfortunately. And that was (finally) ok.

It's not always super easy. Sometimes I still don't like that I have to pack a bottle and formula in the diaper bag (even though we've been really happy with The Honest Company's new formula, if you're curious about that option). Sometimes my heart still breaks when I read things like, "there's no way to replicate a mother's milk exactly, because it contains living cells, antibodies, enzymes, and hormones that can't be added to formula." But most of the time I embrace the peace and encouragement given on that turn-around day. And, most importantly, I check my perspective. She's healthy, she's growing, and she's ours. Three things (among many more) that we certainly don't deserve.

lottie's arrival

It's taken me between now and when we brought Lottie home from the hospital to process and write down the experience of meeting our perfect little girl. I was so afraid I'd forget the details that were so precious to me over those first few days. It'd be understandable with the lack of sleep and general brain power. So I've spent the last several weeks scratching down all those details in a journal, picking it up every few days during a successful nap time (those, as I'm sure most know, are not a guarantee). And as I've read over the pages and pages of obviously sleepy hand writing (looking much like my notes from a 7:30 Old Testament class from my freshman year of college), I realized that, even if I had not obsessively recorded every little detail, there were many moments that'd be impossible to forget. Maybe because of how pivotal they were in our life - much more than any other event so far. And far more precious. 

I'll never forget how gracious the timing was of Lottie's arrival. I'd always skip over the chapters in the baby books that had anything to do with a c-section, expecting that information never to pertain to us. A section to meet our little stubborn, breeched babe was the beginning of unmet expectations that momentarily rocked my world. But the sweetness that it brought was a consolation prize: Lottie's long distance grandparents and Aunt Molly were all able to arrive the night before, enjoy what we called "the last supper" together, and be there anxiously awaiting Lottie's entrance into the world. We were also able to spend the morning before her birth with our church family. I'll never forget how I felt when we left both the service and Sunday School that day - supported, cared for, and that so many from our community shared in our excitement. 

I'll never forget the quiet nervousness between D and I as we waited in the prep room. We prayed, we laughed about how D's "scrubs" looked more like a hazmat suit, and we more just stared at the mounted TV instead of actually watching whatever HGTV show was on at that moment, our minds too full of expectation and thoughts of how this whole process would play out. I remember this because of how it stands in contrast to when D and a nurse rolled Lottie’s little bassinet into the recovery room where I was anxiously awaiting their arrival. All of that nervousness had melted away, and he was – for lack of a better word – beaming. I’ll never forget the look on his face. 

I’m certain that I’ll never forget the moment I saw our girl for the first time. Her birth was such a quick process – I had an extra good dose of anesthesia so I literally felt nothing (including my arms and chest) and didn’t expect to see a quick flail of purply arms and legs so soon. They whisked her to her little bed and told D to follow. While they checked her out, D backed up to where I could see him and gave me the most reassuring thumbs up, letting me know that she was as perfect as we prayed for. It wasn’t long before the moment I had waited for – being face to face with our baby girl. I’ll never forget her beautiful scrunched little face between her swaddle and hat, eyes squeezed shut because of the brightness of the operating room. She laid so still, only letting out a few tiny squeals from her perfect rosebud lips. In the days to follow, I found myself so wishing that I could relive that moment over and over again. Being together for the first time as a family of three, we were full and complete and more in love than we ever knew possible. 

I’m sure I’ll always love watching people fuss over Lottie, but there is nothing like watching your parents and in-laws and sister hold their granddaughter and niece for the first time. I’ll never forget the pride and excitement in their eyes as they responded to each new little move and noise. It’s such an extraordinary thing to watch your family grow before your eyes, knowing that it’ll never be the same as it was just a few hours before. Knowing that these are the people that will love your daughter so deeply throughout her life. 

I’ll never forget how obsessed I was with the hospital staff. Every single nurse and aid that we came in contact with was incredibly kind and helpful to us novice parents. I had never stayed overnight in the hospital and did not know what to expect. By our third night there, I was really wanting to stay. Or pack them in my bag and bring them home with me! I’ve always said I’m completely impressed with anyone in any kind of medical field, but I’ve never been so appreciative of their work until now. Shout out to Jean – my first nurse who let me eat much sooner than I was told to expect to be able to because I was feeling better than expected (praise the Lord!). Sixteen hours is a long time for a McMahone to go without food or water. You’re my girl for life! 

There are plenty more details scribbled in my journal for Lottie to be able to read one day that I won’t bore you with here. What is most unforgettable to me from this entire experience is watching Dustin transition into fatherhood with such grace and filled with so much love. I still feel rather clueless at times as a mother, but I’m convinced that I could write the book on how to be a supportive new daddy just from watching D during our days in the hospital. And since then! I fell deeper in love with him with every diaper change and every encouraging word. I’ve never felt so loved by him serving his new family of three without any complaint and by him being so intentional to be so uplifting to me, always knowing exactly when I’d need it. And watching your husband, who you fell in love with as a young college dude, fall deeply in love with your daughter so instantly – there are no words to describe it. 

We are thankful for such a positive experience of meeting our Lottie. In the grumpiest of moments, I try to remember what a blessing it is to have had such an experience and to have gotten to bring her home from the hospital just as we had prayed – perfectly healthy and whole. 

Lottie, you have split our hearts wide open and have caused us to experience a love like we've never known before. A love that causes me to physically ache with pride and concern and to stare at you and cry the happiest of tears. For the time being, you are all we can talk about, all we can think about. We hang on your every squirm and noise and sleep grin, and we can't think of anything we'd rather do than watch you grow and discover. We understand now why children are a blessing from the Lord. He blessed us far beyond anything we ever deserved when He gave us you. This parenthood thing is a whole new world for us, a completely new realm of emotions and experiences. And we're so glad we get to experience it with you (even if it's 3 o'clock in the morning).