Chapter Thirteen: "Broken Hallelujah"

Years ago, when my best friend Danielle turned...something, I don't remember, her mom threw a surprise party for her. It was awesome. We were young and silly and had no idea what life was going to be like. Mary (Danielle's Mom.../my mom, let's be honest) created a Jeopardy game about Danielle's life. One of the categories was Friends and in it, there was the answer "Danielle thinks this person is the scariest person in the world to wake up in the morning." The question? "Who is Maddie Carrigan?" 

It is a well known fact I hate mornings. I'm just not good at it. If I can sleep five more minutes I will. If that five more minutes turns into thirty and I decide to shower later/tomorrow, so be it. I like my sleep. 

And I'm not THAT bad (Mary Flannery...). I've know people who are way scarier to wake up. I love them, because they make look tame. 

When Ellie was born, the sleep thing went out the window. Babies tend to do that. They have their own schedule and have been thrown into a great big world. It's hard for those little guys. People talk about sleep schedules and routines...there is no routine when you have a newborn. Life just is at that point. The craziest times, for me, was from 12 Am to about 8 Am. That was when I became a Mombie. 

Now that we have two kids, not much is the different. 

Dean is still in intensive care, and I am still pumping 7-12 times in 24 hours. I wake up at least three times at night, go to sleep after Blair, and wake up with him. I take an hour to two hour naps, sometimes I get four, and then I'm up again. 

My son may not be sleeping in the room with us, but my body sure didn't get that memo. 

For whatever reason, when I'm pumping, when I'm up at three and six and nine, these early morning and super late night pumping sessions, is when my heart wants to balk at all this. 

That's when I have to catch thoughts like "this isn't fair" and "why God" and "we don't deserve this" and "my son didn't deserve this" and "I can't do this anymore" and those times are when I get the most angry about what's happening. 

Because I am angry. And scared. And tired. And weary. And just going going going, because if I stop to think about things for TOO long, if it is TOO quiet, my heart and my head decide to go their own way. Their way is dangerous. 

This morning around 7:20 (too early for me...don't judge...) here I was forcing myself to pump, struggling to keep my eyes open...balking against what is happening. Mad that I'm up, mad that my son can't nurse, mad that he's still in intensive care, mad that they have to fortify my milk with formula, just...mad. Mad and tired. And weary. 

And then...

Our window is open. I can hear birds begin to wake. And out that window I can see the horizon, I can see the colors begin to slowly come into the sky. The trees are silhouetted against the colors, vibrant and beautiful. Here comes this huge yellow orange sun, popping up like it does every morning. The warmest light comes into the room and everything is just glowing. 

I took a deep breath. 

And I poured out praise. A broken Hallelujah. A new day, new mercies. Fresh. Warm. 

Loved. 

I have my moments, I tell people all the time, I have my moments. Today was a moment. And with the rising of the sun, I renewed my heart and mind and came back to where I need to be, the foot of the cross. I reminded myself God owes me no explanations for His ways. That He told me life wouldn't be fair. That He's walking with me, with us, that there is purpose in this. Regardless of what I think and feel. Regardless of my moments.

Just like I feel I have nothing to offer others, I feel that I don't have anything to offer God. I stop though, because when did God ask anything of me except that I love and trust Him? My praise most days feels broken and disjointed, marred in tears and sleepy eyes. My Hallelujah is broken. 

And that's enough. 

Just...the sun came up today. It did. Life didn't stop, though I want it to a lot. I want this to stop. I want to make it better for my baby. I want to be home with Ellie and Blair and our baby boy. I want to have pictures of Ellie kissing her brother. He is almost six weeks old and my daughter has not met her brother. My heart balks at that. All these things that take my praise that I would offer and make it into something broken and scarred. 

They make it into something beautiful. 

When all you have is a Broken Hallelujah, that's all God wants. 

I'm thankful that the sun came up this morning, thankful for the Promise of love and hope and endurance through this.