Timehop Ramblings

It was two years ago  that we found out our precious baby was a boy. The emotions were running high that day and I still remember them all clearly, even that small flutter of disappointment that we weren’t having a girl. It seems preposterous now. Now that we know and love a child who is in every way possible ALL boy. I could never want or imagine it any other way.

I know without question that God gave us a child who is not perfect, but who is perfect for us. Who challenges and refines me and fills my heart to the brim with unfiltered joy. Who makes me cry out for the Lord’s help and mercy and patience to rain down on me as I fumble through this motherhood thing. 

Through Forest, I have been stretched and worn down to the studs. Stay at home mom-ing is at once a blessing I am grateful for and a trial I am often left feeling completely unequipped to handle. It is everything and yet nothing like I expected. It equally fills me up and drains me dry. It is both humbling and rewarding like no other job I have ever had. 

I know it’s precisely what I am supposed to be doing at this point in my life and have total peace about ‘retiring’ to fill my days with play dates and singing the ABCs and unwinding after a long day with an episode of Sesame Street.  I am so blessed that Jonathan’s job affords me the opportunity to be a Stay at Home Mom and beyond that- that Jonathan is such an involved and caring husband and father. He gives Forest his baths and puts him to bed every night. He makes sure to make it home for dinner and we squeeze in a trip to the park before bathtime each night. 

Most days I am so psyched that this is my life and I feel like I need someone to pinch me to ensure that my good ‘luck’ is real. Of course I have days where I feel physically worn down from the constant chasing and guiding and never-sitting-down-ness that is life with a toddler. 

I have days where Forest’s asthma keeps us both up at night and I am mean and impatient from lack of sleep. I have many moments when I calculate how much I would sacrifice for a weekend of binge watching television and reading a book by a pool without a single responsibility in the world. I think that has to be pretty normal, right? To fantasize about what you would do if you just had a day or two where your own appetites and interests and circadian rhythms ruled the day once more? 

These little snippets of reverie occur to me from time to time. But what was probably the most telling thing was when I met an Au pair at the neighborhood park and I was telling Jonathan about what a great experience this must be for her. She gets to live in beautiful Northern California for a year or two and in exchange she only has one kid to watch and gets to do things like take him to Music Together or the park before putting him down for a two hour nap. Doesn’t that sound great? 

And as the words were coming out of my mouth it hit me that I was essentially describing my own life. The one I often gripe about and stress over and feel tapped out because of. The point of this rambling is just to say: I know I am fortunate. I prayed and prayed for this job and though I was woefully unprepared, God granted me what I asked of him. 

He didn’t give me exactly what I wanted, exactly when I wanted it, but true to form, He gave me what I needed, when I needed it and through that he has taught me to give up control. To stop closing my heart by filling my mind with expectations. To keep both my mind and my heart open so that when His will is presented to me, I have the spirit to accept and appreciate it. 

Thank you Lord, for Forest. For his fearlessness which causes my heart to race. For his will-fullness that reveals his strong and intelligent spirit. For his rough and tumbleness that has me in the best shape of my life. For his kisses that he randomly plants on my lips throughout the day that make my knees weak with love. For his sweet voice that calls me 'Momma' as I put him down for a nap. For his naps! Thank you Lord for the privilege of being his mother. 

Please bring peace to those whose journey to motherhood is still ongoing and who long for a toddler to chase until they collapse at the end of the day from total exhaustion. Who just want a child to love without restraint. Who would do it all- the morning sickness, the stretchmarks, the sleepless nights, the skipped naps, the sick and restless days, the time outs, the dirty floors, the constant pile of dishes in the sink and the dejected looking dog on the couch- just for a sweet little voice calling them ‘momma’. 

I know those women waiting on a baby (or saying goodbye to one they conceived) will look at my list of complaints and label them blessings. And when I feel tapped out at the end of the day, as if I don’t have one more ounce of patience to dole out, it is them I try to think of. It is them and it is myself during  my own 3 year long wait. It’s those aching women that I reflect on to try to muster up the strength for one more moment of humility and grace. 

I far too often fail at this and lose my cool or perspective. And each time I dare to feel sorry for myself for an instant or call my situation unfair for a millisecond- I shudder as I remember how profoundly I longed and how consistently I prayed for exactly this type of moment. It bears reminding.