The Magic of Mom

"Awesome! If the baby's not going to nurse, at least other people can help feed her!"

That was the only positive I could think of during my past two months of lamenting over the baby's refusal to nurse. 

Which wasn't a bad trade-off. I've seen two (yes two!) movies in the theater since the baby's birth, which has never ever happened before. I've had one of the older children calm the hungry, screaming child with a bottle while we were stuck in traffic.

But part of me was still depressed. This baby didn't want me. This baby didn't need me. What did I do wrong?

Then one day, the baby was unconsolable. I was pumping, which meant I could not hold her. All the older children tried rocking her, feeding her, taking her outside, transferring her from one set of arms to another. Nothing could calm her.

Finally, I was done pumping. I took my baby in my arms and instantly she stopped her sobbing. I offered her a bottle and she gladly took it. Then, with her tummy satisfied, she fell into a peaceful sleep.

And this wasn't the only time.

On multiple occasions, Mom has been the only person who could give the baby what she needed. I don't know why it is that though almost anyone else can feed her, change her, or hold her, sometimes only I can comfort her. I have to explain to my children when they cry, "The baby doesn't like me!" that it's nothing personal against them. They're not Mom! And when they ask, "But how does she know? Does she smell you?!" I just shrug.

But my heart is singing. She does need me! No one in the world can take my place! By God's design, there is a strange, special bond there; "magical" is the only way I can describe it. It's a bond that goes beyond putting food in the child's stomach. It's a responsibility, an entrustment, an honor, a privilege, and a joy!

The Mystery of Parenting (Mother's Day, part 2)

I was sitting with the baby, conversing with her in coos and smiles, when I glimpsed a sudden flash of the future: my little girl, dressed in a beautiful dress, walking down the aisle on her wedding day.

Her wedding day?! Why am I thinking about her wedding day?! That's so far away! At least twenty years…

Then it hit me. Twenty years. 

T W E N T Y   Y E A R S

Whoa. Will I make it that long?

And that's just the minimum; it doesn't include all of adulthood.

But then I think about my oldest son. He will turn fifteen this summer. We just sent in his application for the local community college. Fifteen years with him has flown by, faster than I could have imagined. The next fifteen will fly by too, like a pleasant dream that ends too soon.

Parenting, like marriage, is a mystery. It feels like an eternity, and the blink of an eye. It's the most difficult thing I've ever done, yet the easiest. It takes all my commitment and sacrifice, yet gives me so much more in return. 

Happy Mother's Day to all you mamas!

When Mamas Need a Good Cry (Mother's Day, part 1)

This morning, I had a baby crying for no apparent reason, a toddler crying from a fall, a three-year-old leaving messes in every room, older children requesting help with school work, laundry, dishes, a long errand list, the anticipation of guests tomorrow… and all I really wanted to do was go back to bed.

I went to change the baby's diaper, hoping that that would calm her, and I started crying with her. I was crying because the house felt chaotic and I felt overwhelmed and incapable of fixing the chaos. And because I wanted a morning of just-rolling-over-and-going-back-to-sleep. And because I still longed to nurse the baby when she cried. And because it has been two months since the baby's birth and I felt like I should have a handle on things. Most of all, I was crying because I had become a grumpy, snarling monster who answered her husband and children with snapping.

By the time I finished changing the diaper, my daughter and I were both done crying. And we both felt better. 

Sometimes, a mom just needs to cry. Crying doesn't mean you are any less courageous. It's okay to admit that you can't do it all. It's okay to accept life for what it is at the moment. It's okay to hope and pray that it will not always be this way. So you let the tears fall, and when you're done, you take a deep breath. Then you face the challenges one at a time, and you get through the day.

I'm going to take a nap later. And maybe tomorrow, I'll cry again. But I know now that sometimes I need to let the tears go, and there's no shame in it.