On Letting Go

I waited so many years to be a mother and when Brighton was here I became immediately enamored with her. The desire I felt for her time, her warmth, her attention was all encompassing. I savored every moment I could in those six months at home with her, and the thought of going back to work and allowing someone else to care for her made me feel cold with anxiety.

As the last month before I went back to work ticked away,  I tried to enjoy every last second that I had with her. We went on extra walks and extra trips to the park. I held her more than usual (which is already a lot) and got in as many kisses and cuddles I could. I took more pictures and videos each day. I was super intentional about paying attention to every detail of her.

It was as though I was trying to squeeze all the love I could out of her.

And then my last week of maternity leave snuck up on me. Matt was headed out of town for an annual snowboarding trip that week so I had Brighton all to myself. I wanted to hole up in the house and just stay in bed with my girl playing and nursing and napping.

But I felt the need to go to church and the grocery store and outside so I could breathe fresh air. The Sunday Matt left for his trip, I got Brighton and myself dressed and we went to church, albeit 30 minutes late. I dropped her off in the nursery with a feeling of dread, thinking it was one more hour that I wasn't going to get with her that week. Keeping her with me in the sanctuary wasn't an option anymore.

I snuck into the service and sat in the back of balcony by myself. I had already missed 1/4 of the sermon. Our pastor was talking about entrusting God with the things we hold dear to our heart. He was telling us that God sometimes asks us to hand things over to him so He can take better care of them. I listened half hearted, thinking of my daughter the whole time until he read the story from Genesis 22 - where God asks Abraham to sacrifice his only son, Isaac.

If you don't know the story, Abraham was married to a woman named Sarah who was barren. She begged God to give her a child and God did, but He waited until she and Abe were super old to bless them with a child. Isaac was their miracle baby. So you can imagine how insane it must have sounded to Abraham when God asked him to sacrifice his son.

Of course, God was just testing old Abe and He stopped him before any harm was done. I never understood why God would ask such a thing of a man who had waited so long for a child. But our pastor explained how our God is jealous of our hearts and He doesn't want idols in our lives.

And then it hit me. Brighton was my Isaac, my miracle baby that I almost worshiped. She had become my idol.

Of course God didn't ask me to do anything crazy like he did with Abraham. He simply spoke through a sermon, and let me chew on the truth and my weary heart.

Over the course of the last few months as I have had to leave my daughter in the care of others, whether it be a church volunteer in the nursery, or a babysitter, or a family member, I have been forced to face my own issues - my anxiety that they just won't care for her the right way, or know her needs as well as I do, or if I'm really honest, that somehow they are stealing time and memories and moments that were meant to be mine. I hate knowing that she has done something for the first time in the presence of someone who is not her parent. I don't like sharing her with people because I feel my time is already so limited with her due to working full-time outside the home. I get irritated when our babysitters take more than 5 minutes to leave once I'm home because I feel like every extra second they stay is another second I don't get with her. I worry that when someone gives her a bottle or changes her diaper or lays her down for a nap that they won't do it as well as I would and that will somehow negatively affect her in the long run.

I am jealous for her and riddled with irrational worries and I shouldn't be.

The harsh reality I have had to face is that Brighton wasn't created just to fulfill my desire to be a mother. She wasn't created just for me. And by gripping onto her life so tightly with my hopes and my fears and my pride, I was reducing her to nothing more than a shiny object I hid in my hands. I know the way I have felt, the way I sometimes still feel, isn't healthy. I know my heart has to change and it starts with letting go and forcing myself to trust.

This is all easier said than done of course. Every day is a battle, and some days I feel peaceful and thankful and know in my heart that Brighton will be just fine even if we are away from one another. Other days I feel prickly and ugly with fear and jealousy.

On those bad days, God reminds me to let go, and let Him take care of us. He understands how much I care about Brighton's every little detail, in the same way He cares about all my little details too. Brighton is His daughter too after all.

So this is my struggle: letting go and entrusting God with the thing most dear to my heart, my baby girl. I'm praying God keeps giving me the grace to do it, and the grace for when I fail.