The 3 AM alarm sounds. Time to feed the baby. My husband and I drag ourselves from bed, I usually have to wake him myself. Nurse the baby, burp the baby, nurse the baby, gloved tongue and lip stretches, bottle feed the baby, pump, back to bed. The only comfort I can take being that I have a partner in this chaos, (without him the whole process would take much longer) and that I can remember when we did this every three hours at night rather than four.

Our life as a family of five has not been as I expected. Slow growing baby with reflux, poor nursing and tongue tie. The two older children have not adjusted as I had hoped. Round the clock, nurse, bottle, pump, repeat. Fitting laundry, meals and care for the other kids in between. Weary doesn’t begin to describe it.

Christmas is approaching fast and instead of my usual excitement over the Advent season, I feel as though clouds are gathering for a storm. The work, the travel, the budget, trying to find balance between enjoyment and unnecessary extravagance. I want to feel the weight of glory, the thrill of anticipation, not a growing sense of dread.

For some reason I can’t get Handel’s Messiah out of my mind. When I used to sing choral music it was one of my favorites.

Take His yoke upon you, and learn of Him,
for He is meek and lowly of heart,
and ye shall find rest unto your souls.
(From Matthew 11:29)

Yes, I need rest, not just for my body but for my soul. I want to rest my weary head beside the manger and find the peace that is lacking. To explore what it feels like to be the mother of a baby boy as we celebrate the birth of the Christ child. I may not have the energy to bake dozens of cookies or decorate my house to Pinterest perfection; but I can be expectant; watching and waiting for the weariness to fade and be replaced by wonder.


(I typed most of this post with one hand, a baby on my other arm. I should get bonus points for that).