As a desperate, sleep deprived, frazzled (victoriously frazzled) mother, I swaddled Ellington. From the day she was born until she could crawl, I swaddled her. Now I still swaddle little six-month old Emery.
For those of you who may not know how swaddling works, you lay the baby on a blanket, fold the blanket over the right arm and tuck, tuck the bottom over the feet by the right arm, and fold the rest of the blanket around the left arm.
I personally feel that the tighter the blanket is around the baby, the longer the baby will sleep! I fold and tuck, jerk and tuck, jerk and tuck more, then cinch it tight. Yes, she does look slightly mummified, but maybe, just maybe, she'll sleep an hour longer.
If my closest friends and family read this, they may be thinking, "Has she gone crazy? Now she's blogging about swaddling. We have got to get her some help." But I am not ashamed! Swaddling works. At least it makes me feel somewhat more in control of my chaotic life! I mean, even Mary swaddled Jesus, right?
One day this summer, I was getting Em ready for bed. We were in our bedroom at our old house, window unit blasting cold air down the hallway, lights dimmed, eleven o'clock at night. I was tired; Andrew was already fast asleep. Em is wide awake. I think, "Swaddling always put Ellington to sleep, so I'll go ahead and get her swaddled and in her bassinet."
Emery flails her arms about and smiles as I lean over her. As I tuck one arm in, the other arm goes up. I get it down by her side, tuck it in, and the other arm slides up and out of the blanket. Emery laughs. Start over.
I tuck the first arm again. I catch the other flying arm and tuck it in the blanket. The first arm comes up and slides out of the blanket. Emery laughs again. Start over.
I tuck the first arm again....and so it goes SEVEN more times.
I admit, the flesh took over and I banged my fists on the bed like a mad woman. (Yes, mad, in both senses of the word!)
At this point, I am so frustrated with this innocent, laughing, baby, that I am talking aloud while swaddling her. "You are GOING to stay in this blanket. You WILL sleep good tonight. At least four hours straight!!"
After a couple more times, the conversation sounded like this, "Quit trying to get out! This is for your own good! I promise! Just LET ME SWADDLE YOU!"
Interestingly, God chose this most appropriately ordained moment to teach me a lesson.
Just like Emery's cinched blanket, as children of God, we see His rules and laws as binding--like something that was created just to hold us back from "having fun" and "living in freedom." But in the end, it is the truth (the law, the Word of God, His standard of living) that sets us free.
You see, if I totally did what I wanted to do, I may end up a drunkard, an adulterer, a pleasure seeker, a power hog, an insane woman with fear, and who knows what else. And when I became that, I would be living an empty, vain, unfulfilled life for myself. I would die a depressed woman, bound in dispair.
I need His standards and laws. I love His law. It actually frees me. No, I don't always get to do what I want to do. However, my soul feels free! I feel no weight of guilt, fear, unfufillment, emptiness, or pride.
Like Emery gets her best nights of sleep being swaddled, I get my best life when I am surrendered to His Word and His Way. She wakes up happier and aware, and I live my life more aware of His presence and His loving hand against my back, guiding my every step.
Psalm 119
44 I will keep on obeying your instructions forever and ever.
45 I will walk in freedom, for I have devoted myself to your commandments.
47How I delight in your commands! How I love them!
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