Did I forget to tell you we decided on a name for Baby Two?!?!?!

Yep. Joey. Sweet Baby Joey.

Joseph Micah Kiley, for those who want the official version.

The name journey was trickier for us this time around. When we chose our first son’s name, we did so at the exclusion of all other names. So when we found out we were having another boy?…you mean we have to un-eliminate a name that we previously eliminated? How???

We tossed around several first names, middle names, and name combos. We played with initials. We wrestled over each name’s meaning. We roll called just as we know we will someday when we have to call both boys’ names together. They do have to sound good together.

So Joey it is.

Matthew and Joey.

Matthew is going to be a wonderful, sweet, helpful big brother. Maybe a little too helpful

As for me? I’m counting down. This photo is from last week, which was at the 33 week mark.

Only five more weekends to go. FIVE!! I CAN COUNT THEM WITH ONE HAND!

To be honest it mostly feels oh so very far away. There are so many things to be done at work between now and then that I still can only really take things one day at a time in terms of my to-do list. The never ending list of clinic progress reports, discharge reports, and home programs. The hamster wheel that is the special education system in the public schools. Every time I think I’ve climbed the summit, I find out it was just a fake out and there is actually another mountain to be climbed.

Three more weeks of school. Three and a half more weeks of work. And five more weekends until baby.

I remember last time I made sure to get all my big tasks done during that five weekend countdown — getting my annually updated contact lens prescription, getting the car’s oil changed, putting together baby furniture, washing baby clothes and bottles, gathering essentials for nursing and pumping.

Not really this time.

I have a few Joey crafty projects I want to get done before he comes, like a decoration for his wall and putting together his baby book. But more than anything, I am simply trying to make it to the finish line. The end of the school year has been so physically exhausting that it seems like every weekend something in my body breaks down. Maybe it’s a flu bug that stays with me all weekend, then goes away just in time for work on Monday. Maybe it’s a two-day allergy attack that completely knocks me off my feet. Maybe it’s a strained muscle that makes my back seize up for two days straight (that would be what happened this weekend).

Five more weekends can’t come soon enough.

But at the same time, I have definitely found myself grieving a bit. Grieving the special Matthew time that I will lose once I am forced to divide my attention and, especially, my energy. He is in SUCH an amazing phase of development right now, particularly with his language. This 21-month-old kid is spouting off four-word sentences and has pretty much mastered everything related to knowing letters and numbers, including letter sounds. He learns so many new things every day and I will be sad to have to basically sleepwalk through this exciting time in his development. I know I’m not the only second-time mom who’s felt like this. And I know everything will be fine once little brother comes along and we figure out our new normal. But I can’t help but feel a little sad about losing that one on one time with big brother.

So…five more weekends. Five more weeks of sleeping through the night and waking to the sweet sound of our toddler babbling or calling out for us because he wants to “Eat. Cereal.” Five more weeks of being pain free before I am all of a sudden recovering from major abdominal surgery and managing the pain with strong meds. Five more weeks until burp cloths, swaddles, baby carriers, and feeding schedules.

And five more weeks until we meet our new sweet baby boy.

We can’t wait to meet you, Joey.

It’s a new year and a new season of life. We have a toddler and another little boy on the way.

{Side note: Oh yeah, I haven’t shared that yet on the blog…we’re having another BOY!!}

As part of a fast our church did for the first 40 days of the year, I decided I wanted to start praying for Matthew and the new baby brother every night as I put him to bed. Praying for your children is something I’ve always known is a wonderful, important thing to do but, to be honest, my prayer life has been a little pretty dry ever since our first baby was born. There are a thousand excuses: sleep deprivation, minimal time to myself, lack of motivation, not knowing what to pray for, etc. etc.

Matthew is now at the age where he faces real and significant joys, dangers, teaching moments, and new experiences every day. And as his parents we, too, face all of those things with him. We are the ones who are supposed to know how to raise him and teach him about things like boundaries and sharing and following directions and how to engage with others in a loving and selfless way. It’s a big responsibility. And I find more and more each day that I need to seek God’s wisdom and strength in order to be up to the task of raising the child he has given to us.

So I pray.

Every night as I take him back to his room (him protesting bedtime every.single.night), sit with him on the ball (him finally submitting to bedtime and laying his head on my shoulder), and gently bounce for 3 or so minutes, I tell him I love him and then I begin to pray. At first I prayed silently as he moaned and fought fatigue. But after a few nights, for some reason, I started to pray out loud, in a whisper just loud enough for him to hear as his head lay on my shoulder. His moaning stopped and I could tell he was listening. He was listening to my prayer for him and his brother. 

What do I pray? 

I thank God for our sweet boy and the joy he brings to our lives. I thank him for the ways he makes us laugh and shake our heads in disbelief. While my baby is listening, I thank the Lord for giving him to us and allowing us to raise him. I ask him to forgive me for any wrongs I have done against him that day. I pray that he would keep Matthew safe while he sleeps until I can hold him again in my arms the next morning. I pray that God would go with him and protect him as he goes through his next day and explores and learns all sorts of new things. I pray that God would give us the wisdom and courage and patience we need to be godly parents who can raise him in the way he should go. I pray that God would prepare him to be a good big brother to his little brother, the kind of big brother who will love him and share with him and be gentle with him. I pray that God’s will would be done in his life. And I think it’s really cool that my one-and-a-half-year-old gets to hear me pray for him, both for the joys he brings to us and for the protection by and submission to the Lord.  

And for little brother? I pray that he would continue to grow and develop in a healthy way. That God would be forming him to be just the baby he wants him to be. The he would protect him from anything in my body that may compromise his development (foods, stress. etc.). That God would prepare him to be a part of our family, that he would be a good little brother to Matthew, and that he would know he is loved. 

It’s true what they say about prayer: the more you pray, the more you realize you have to pray about. I have SO much to pray about for these little lives. 

As I learn to pray for my children each day, I am humbled at the realization of just how little control I have over their precious, tender lives. I am here to teach them and guide them, but I must rely on God’s strength and wisdom and grace. HE is ultimately in control of their lives.

And so I pray.