Since Nate came along, more than one person has asked me what it was like to have four. Their questions usually come out in almost-whispers, as if just IMG_20160124_130802voicing an interest in our bigger family might cause one or two more kids to pop up in their brood too.  So what’s it like? They ask. Is it crazy?

Crazy? Yes. (Usually.)

But it’s also wonderful.


And absolutely worth it.


And completely exhausting.



Despite his otherwise pleasant nature and chubby feet and delicious adorableness, Nate has singlehandedly drug things to a new low in the sleep department around our house. I’m trying not to be overly dramatic, but I honestly caught myself falling asleep while standing late one night a few months ago, and just last week I woke up and discovered that I was nursing him in the rocking chair in the wee hours with absolutely no recollection of going into his room and picking him up and no clue how long I’d been in there. I am tired.

So just a day or so ago, when I woke up with brains that felt like mush and a headache that urged me to punch whoever was closest (Josh) in their unsuspecting face, I was not a happy Hannah. I’d witnessed far more hours go by the night before than one with an almost-ten-month-old should be seeing, and I was mad. This has gone on too long, my little Nate bug. Mommy is not going to make it. And for heaven’s sake, child, it’s a Monday.


I can’t do this.

And I couldn’t.  

I said it with one child and now I’m saying it with four. The circumstances are different, but the feelings are the same.

With newborn Edy I was drowning in the uncharted land of feedings and reflux and paranoia that she wasn’t getting enough and that I was a bad mommy because it didn’t come more naturally.

Now I wonder what kind of mom of four doesn’t know how to get a child to sleep at night? What kind of mom doesn’t realize it’s a tooth/dirty diaper/missing paci/growth spurt that’s causing him fits? What kind of mother let’s her child cry while she cries because she has no idea what to do?

Me. This kind. The kind that can’t do it on her own.

I went to take a picture to illustrate for you what a terrible sleeper he was...and he was asleep. Stinker.

I went to take a picture to illustrate for you what a terrible sleeper he was…and he was asleep. Stinker.

A sweet friend reminded me of 2 Peter 1:3 a few weeks ago. I was wailing about something else I simply couldn’t do and shouldn’t be expected to do, dadgummit, and she gently pointed me back to the Word (as any dear friend should do.)

“His divine power has given us everything we need for life and godliness through our knowledge of him who has called us by his own glorious goodness” (2 Peter 1:3).

His power has given us everything we need for life and godliness.

It’s like a big, flashing, ugly neon sign, it’s so obvious.

No, I can’t do it on my own, AND I’M NOT SUPPOSED TO.

(And neither are you!)

Through his kindness to us, Jesus will supply the power we need to not only live lives of godliness but also just to live life.

He’s our source for strength through the sticky and the sleepy and the whiney and the sick and the cantankerous and the unpleasant and the too-hard.

He’s going to supply everything we need to face what we’re facing, and face it well. (Without punching any unsuspecting family members in the face.)

And (did you catch this above?) all because of his own glorious goodness to us.

This is a merciful God we serve.

Ask him to take over today, and then trust to him to do it. He will.

“My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in your weakness” (2 Cor. 12:9).


What are you trying to handle in your life? What are you ready to let him take over?