On My Heart: Motherhood

Sometimes I cannot believe that I am a mother. I waited so long for this season, for the precious feeling of a tiny newborn in my arms, warm and heavy with sleep; for the next season of letters and numbers and colors; and for all the seasons after that.

The responsibility of parenthood is so large and before I was a mother, I felt the weight of it and the worry that comes along with it, looming ahead, fuzzy and unknown. I worried so much about how being a mom would change me and not for the better. I did not want this new title to overcome the version of me that I was finally somewhat comfortable with. This was the me that Matt loved, that my family loved, that my friends loved and becoming a mother could change all of that, strip me of the very things I had worked so hard to achieve, to learn. I did not want to become a woman lost in her child, her identity wrapped solely around one part of her life with nothing left to talk of except labor and nursing and sleep cycles.

I now know that worry was ridiculous and selfish. When Brighton was born, motherhood enveloped me fully: the worry, the exhaustion, the work, the chaos and the all encompassing love that you can drown in. It changed me immediately, unequivocally, but now I see that it was all for the better. Every moment with Brighton has been a lesson, an opportunity, and a mirror showing who I am really am and who I need to be. This new state of being requires so much of me, that all the immaturity and the selfishness has to be stripped away, piece by piece, day by day.

I am not perfect and motherhood is not going to sanctify or purify me into perfection; but it will help bring me closer to the woman I know God requires me to be - one who knows His character and emulates it in the every day of her life, regardless of who sees it or not; one who is willing to put the needs of someone else ahead of her own daily; one who tries to love without condition or limits.

This new world of spit-up and poop and tiny clothes and nap schedules, can be so overwhelming. The worry for my daughter's safety, health and happiness plagues me at times; there is so little I have control over and I find myself praying feverishly that she would be protected and healthy and whole all the days of her life. The sense of protection I feel over her is enormous - how I would lay down my life for her and what lengths I would take to protect her from harm. Every day I aim to attend to her needs the best way I know how, but most days I feel guilty for not doing more for her - for laying her in her swing when I am exhausted, for whining about the ache in my back and wrists from rocking her to sleep and for feeling frustrated when she doesn't nurse well, or fusses for an hour before bedtime.

But then she smiles at me, or sighs deeply in my arms, or lays her head against my shoulder and I think - this is just wonderful. Both the good and the hard are sweet and I can't think of any other season I'd rather be in. These moments are precious and fleeting, and I'll blink and they'll be gone before I know it. Being a parent is hard work, and there are no awards, no ceremonies, no accolades at the end of this journey; but there is love. There is so much love.

I know I will have my regrets in life, but I know that I'll never look back and wish I had worked more hours in the office, or watched more television, or had more cups of coffee, or slept more. My regrets will be that even though I held my daughter, and rocked her to sleep, and stopped often to smell her head or kiss her cheeks, I'll wish I had done it more. I want to fully love on my daughter in all the moments I have left with her. This season is so beautiful and so short; the cruelness of it haunts me, that we are to raise these tiny beings, these pieces of ourselves and then leave them to go on without us.

But that is our purpose as mothers isn't it? To carry, to bear, to love and then to let go; and before the season of letting go is upon me, of watching my daughter walk into the beautiful life she is to lead on her own, I am going to relish all the days I have left with her. I am going to embrace this new version of me, this badge of honor, this life as a mother.