I’m currently sitting in the recliner with Netflix on pause, the sound of the baby monitor humming in the background and a cup of forgotten tea that has turned cold. It’s an overcast day and the heat is sticky and wet and makes you feel like you’ve just stepped out of the shower. My eyes are heavy and my muscles are sore and the KT tape I’ve applied to my foot is slowly peeling off . . . I’m tired.
Throughout my childhood, teenage, and early adult years I never thought of myself as being a woman who would become someone’s mother. Maybe a mother-like figure, or the always present aunt, or even the “second mom” to my friend’s children…but never really having a child of my own. It wasn’t until God continued to whittle away at my hardened edges and softened my heart to the notion of no longer preventing getting pregnant. Then all of a sudden I was pregnant and the whirlwind of change blew in like a cold snap, slamming the door open and a tumble of leaves chasing each other inside. My son entered the world in a fast and furious emergent way and most of it is a blur to me. Add in postpartum anxiety, medication, lack of sleep, and fear of doing it wrong and those first few months were overwhelming.
And yet there were still beautiful pockets of time where the house was quiet and Ford napped on my chest. Where I learned to just rest and be still and let go of “all of the things I needed to do” and that was a good lesson to learn.
Here we are, almost 11 months into this parenting thing, and it still feels fresh and new every day. When we are re-setting the house at night and picking up all the toys, getting the bottles ready for the next day, and falling into bed . . . I find myself wrestling through tandem thoughts of the endless joy of watching my son learn something new, play, grow, and be curious; while also missing “the before him” season of life. I know it’s normal, I hear that time and time again, but I definitely wrestle with feeling guilty for craving some of non-motherhood Amy. Maybe that’s because when you become a mom you truly do have to carve out a massive piece of yourself to hold all of the new joys, worries, fears, responsibilities, hopes, lessons, and so much more.
Motherhood is a good thing, a beautiful thing, a beyond joyous thing. It’s a path in life I could never imagine not taking now that I’m on it and I’m humbled and thankful every day we have brought a little extra love wrapped in flesh into this world. Motherhood is also scary and challenging and self sacrificing. It is a constant laying down of one-self for the betterment of someone else. I’m often reminded in the quiet moments when I allow myself to reflect how much Motherhood reminds me of Jesus and my faith; they pretty much go hand in hand. While I’m not the best in this season of life at digging into God’s Word, having long spiritual conversations, or going to church; whispered prayers are on my lips multiple times a day, I’m actively practicing the fruits of the spirit (love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control), and I’m seeing the creation of God grow, change, and unfold before my eyes. It’s beautiful and it goes too fast.
So for those of you, like me, who never saw themselves as mothers but are in this season or embarking into this season, you’ll make it. You’ll be ok. It won’t be easy and you’ll have more messy bun hair days than you care to admit, and you’ll miss friendships and hobbies and the independence to just go do whatever you want by yourself…but it’s worth it.
It really is worth it.