Jen Russum

On getting my body back

January 26, 2016

I can't wait to get my body back. I think this thought constantly as the days, weeks, months tick by. I can't wait until I'm not a slave to breastfeeding. I can't wait until I see a normal number on the scale. I can't wait until my clothes fit right. And then what if I have another baby and mess it all up again? How many babies is too many? Three babies? Four babies? At what point will my body never come back again? I want more children. It's one of my deepest desires in the world. But I would lying if I said these other thoughts about my body, my freedom, my own beauty didn't lurk in the back of my mind, mixed in with my hope for a big family, a gospel-legacy, and a quiver full of arrows. I want the quiver, but I want it to rest upon a toned back and shoulders that coordinate with my flat stomach and strong, slim legs. And then I ponder this strange verse in the Bible, "Yet she will be saved through childbearing — if they continue in faith and love and holiness, with self-control" (1 Timothy 2:12–15). Women are not saved by childbearing. They are saved by Jesus. But the pain of childbearing should remind us of the curse and the One who saves us from that curse. And I would argue that the aftermath of childbearing, the stretched out skin, the achy back, the numbers on the scale, and the hard, holy work of raising babies and toddlers... those circumstances have a way of revealing our sin and should, in turn, draw us near to our Savior. My stretched out, weary flesh is selfish. I want my body back. I want it to look a certain way. I want it to weigh a specific amount, down to the very ounce. I want my body to do the things I want to do on my timeline. I don't want to stoop to discipline my toddler or sit down to nurse my infant for the fifth time of the day. When do I get my body back? That is my plea. But when I look to my Savior, the One who frees me from the curse, I see a man who poured Himself out. I see someone who was broken and bruised for me. His schedule was constantly disrupted by needy, sick people, and he stooped and he stopped and he loved them and healed them. At 33 years, my same exact age, Jesus didn't just lend His body to God's purposes. He gave himself up. I grow indignant at a year of breastfeeding, while my Savior gave up His whole body on a tree. I am convinced that motherhood is the richest soil to practice this giving up. To give away one's body on behalf of another needy soul. No, I will never get my body back.I gave my body away the moment my heart skipped a beat at the sight of the word "pregnant." I gave my body away in that 12 week ultrasound when they couldn't find your heartbeat. I held my breath for a minute that seemed like an hour until they suddenly captured the whirring sound of a little life wrapped up inside mine. I gave my body away every four weeks when I laid on that table so they could make sure your cyst hadn't gotten any bigger. They measured you with a wand as I closed my eyes and prayed for good results. And then in an ultimate act of giving away, I brought you forth into this world and felt the wight of you on my chest for the very first time. Every time I have woken up bleary-eyed in the pitch black of night to feed you, soothe you, my body was not my own. That time I stayed awake all night, watched you seize upon my bed, and paced the hallway on the phone with 911, my body was not my own. While my body longed for sleep, my heart and mind were fully alert, driven by fear and love. Each time I bend to look you in the eye, correct your behavior, scoop you up into an embrace... Each time I sigh at your too-short nap or laugh at your new-found vocabulary, my body is not my own. And for the rest of my life I will give my body away to you. My hands will release your bike as you wobble down the sidewalk, and I will jog alongside you trying to keep up. I will stir the batter for your birthday cake and indulge in a piece to celebrate your life, no matter what the number on scale. I will watch your sports games rain or shine, applying sunscreen to my wrinkly skin as I sit on the sidelines. I will sit beside you as you learn to drive and get down on my knees to pray as you venture off into the world. I will cry when you walk down the aisle and dance like crazy at your reception. And someday, Lord-willing, I hope to bounce and rock your children just as I bounced you. I will never get my body back. I will give my body for you until I die and, on that day, I will finally meet face-to-face the One who gave His body for me. ... Read more

A Day in the Life

January 12, 2016

I captured a day in the life when Zianne was six months and a year old, and I am so happy I was able to do it again now that Talitha is six months old. Right now our weekday rhythms revolve around nap times, nursing, and dissertation writing. We usually escape the house once a day to run errands and visit the gym. Starting this week though, our schedule will change dramatically as I start a new teaching job and the girls attend daycare twice a week. But these pictures below reflect the past few months and what our life has looked like since moving to a new house and a new state. Life is pretty busy, but also very sweet. *I captured these pictures over a few days' time to catch the essence of a full day from early morning to evening. I don't actually change my kids' outfits that often. 6:30am // Coffee and Bible 7:30am // New to me... video workouts at home before the girls wake up 8:00am // Girls get up 8:05am // Morning nursing session 8:20am // Putting new Christmas toys to use. A quick check-up for Talitha... 8:30am // "Brekkie" 8:45am // Squeezing in the last few minutes of a workout with the girls crawling all over me 9:00am // Back up to the nursery to get Talitha dressed for the day 9:10am // Nursery is quickly destroyed by toy explosion 9:15am // Trying to be intentional about reading the Bible to the girls every day 9:20am // Independent play... 9:21am // ...while mom tackles the never-ending task of swapping and organizing little girl clothing 9:28am // Sometimes mom reads... 9:30am // ...and sometimes Z decides it's time to read "all by myself!" 10:00am // Morning show during sissy's nap... currently in the rotation: Daniel Tiger, Curious George, Super Why, Bubble Guppies 10:30am // Sometimes there are tears when the show is over, and sometimes she asks me to take a picture of her crying. I obliged. 11:00 // Off to the gym and the grocery store. Leaving the house with two kids sometimes feels like an Olympic sport... 1:15pm // Home for lunch. Talitha adores eating solids... 1:45pm // Nap time... cleaning up all the toys in the living room so I can concentrate 1:50pm // Make afternoon coffee 2:00pm // Work on dissertation while praying nap time is exceptionally long 2:15pm // Both grandmas have been in town over the past few months, allowing me to occasionally sneak out of the house to work at a nearby coffee shop 3:00pm // The dissertation pairs nicely with a cinnamon honey latte 4:30pm // Up from her nap 4:35pm // Time for a drink and a snack 5:30pm // Dinner prep 5:40pm // Helping mom cook dinner in our horrible florescent-lit kitchen 6:00pm // Passing the time before dad gets home with books and more books These are how our days roll with a six-month-old and a 2-year-old. The hours are a sweet mixture of mundane and beautiful. The days are deliriously exhausting, especially with the pressure of my dissertation always lurking in the back of my mind, but I feel called to be a mom and a PhD student, so I wouldn't change a thing. I fall into bed each night thankful for every minute of this life God's given me. ... Read more

Dear Talitha {six months}

December 23, 2015

Dear Talitha, We've spent half a year with you, my little love. And it's seriously flying by. People always say their second pregnancy seems to go faster than the first. For me, both pregnancies felt like they were nine months long. Not too long, not too short. Just nine months of growing a sweet babe each time. But your newborn days FLEW by. I remember bringing you home from the hospital and wearing you around the house all snuggled up in a wrap, and suddenly I blinked and you are six months old. I remember at three months it started to dawn on me how fast your baby days were passing by. I was setting you in your crib for a nap, and I pondered how far we had come already. You were sleeping in your own bed, in your own room, through the whole night. You were down to nursing five times a day, taking two or three naps. You were already following the general schedule we will probably keep until you are a year old. With Zianne, I remember the newborn days stretching on forever. I think the novelty (and pain) of first time motherhood etched those early days in my memory as if they lasted for years and not just a few weeks. I remember Zianne as newborn, but I will always remember you as a baby. And you are the most beautiful, precious baby. You constantly give us your big, gummy grin, because teeth have yet to emerge in your baby mouth. You wake up from your naps with flushed baby cheeks. And you now pop up on your hands and knees and rock and lunge toward your baby toys. You love baby food, and you sit on dad's lap during dinner each night and cry if the purees of squash and sweet potato don't make it to your mouth fast enough. You sit in a baby chair in the bath and kick your little toes in the warm, sudsy water. You are my beautiful baby girl. You perch on my hip. You love to giggle. You are ever so alert and charming. These months with you have been filled with joy, and I will look back on your baby days with fondness always. Love, Mama ... Read more