The dimmed nightlight casts shadows on my bedroom wall, illuminating the darkness that is 3am.

I have seen this hour more times than I care to count. We’ve become well acquainted with one another, this baby making us otherwise unlikely friends.

Life is a funny thing. Throwing you twists and turns, curve balls and foul plays, landing you in unexpected places. God has this funny way of bringing your never’s to life. Of making you face your greatest fears.

I wasn’t in a rush to change our life of two. The Stephen and Anna life seemed to be working pretty well. And, if I am being honest, I had some serious reservations about the idea of motherhood. Motherhood is exhausting. Motherhood is draining. Motherhood demands your entire life. Motherhood is downright terrifying.

Motherhood was something I wasn’t totally sure I was cut out for. And most of it hinges on this: I was, and am, daunted by the idea of being responsible for another life. A life completely helpless and dependent. On me.

The irony of it all is not lost on me. Not only am I a now a mom, I have been gifted an incredible child with an extra demanding personality— one who refuses to be laid down for play or for sleep, one who can’t be on his own for more than 3 minutes without melting down, one who demands my attention constantly.

He is my world.

And now, I would never go back.

But even as he sleeps, I am reminded of this, my greatest fear: I am responsible for this little life. And I feel the weight of that. The unrhythmic rise and fall of his body on my chest heightens my every sense. Because this baby of mine, he still struggles to keep his tongue out of his airway. He still has moments he stops breathing in his sleep. He still can’t get that tongue where it belongs, especially at night.

And that fear I had leaving the hospital last summer has been made all the more real. What if my baby stops breathing in the night? has become my baby struggles to keep his tongue out of his airway when he breathes at night.

God has this funny way of bringing your never’s to life and making you face your greatest fears. Perhaps to find that, in the face of them, He is enough.

He is able, and you are not.

What I’m learning these last 7 months is this— this may not be the life I had planned and these may not be the challenges I expected to face. But they can draw me to that place where He is enough.

I’m not there yet. But I want to be.

He has gone before us in every situation in the past. He has been in every situation we’ve previously faced. He has been enough up until this point. Why should I doubt that he will be enough again?

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

We are still here.

As of this week Liam is back in myofunctional therapy for his floppy tongue that should hopefully get stronger as we are exercising it. We anxiously await the day Liam can sleep independently for longer than 45 minutes with his tongue in that “optimal resting position” he just can’t seem to get the hang of. In the meantime, mom and dad sleep in 3 hour shifts and try to enjoy the moments our wild child is calm and peaceful.

I’m still in pelvic floor physical therapy but have been blown away by God’s hand of provision for a new PT who specializes in mom and baby care. After not having lots of luck with my first PT, I’ve been seeing slow but steady progress with this new one, and remembering that healing takes time, and lots of it.

Stephen will be transitioning to a new job in mid-April. While a good job for a season, we felt God leading him to resign. His new job is still an airport job and actually very similar to what he was previously doing, but this one is closer to home and all around a better fit. Another story of God’s incredible hand of provision at work in our lives.