All my life before being pregnant, I think I had a
romanticized view of what being a mother would look like. I guess I thought it would be a lot
more comfortable than it is. I
thought being pregnant, I would rub my belly constantly and dream of all the things
I would do with my child. That
24/7 I would contemplate who this person is and how much I love him or her
already. I thought I would be
walking around on a cloud, full of smiles.
But stepping into pregnancy, I realized I didn’t react how I
thought I would. There was a lot of time spent quenching symptoms, still living
life like normal, and uncomfortable nights. I would waddle around Target looking for the appropriate
nipples for the bottles my baby would eventually use and attempt to wear that
skirt that fit me all the years previous – to find it no longer did. Of course, there were moments of
extreme excitement and anticipation, but not as often as I thought. It was uncomfortable.
Yet amidst it, there was a depth. As I strived to survive pregnancy, there was an extreme
depth of awe and wonder that floated over me. I would ask, “How in the world is there really a person
being created inside of me?” “Here
I am walking around in my days, and right inside of me there are fingers and
toes being formed – how can this be – I’m really not doing much?”
And then labor.
Labor pains: a force not to be reckoned with. How can you go through that experience and not be totally
humbled, totally humiliated, totally embarrassed, an experience that really
cannot be explained to anyone. It
is scary. It was uncomfortable.
But the outcome, oh the outcome –to see the sweetest,
sinless human come from inside me, and placed on my chest. That moment, is beyond words, from the
depths of exhaustion all of a sudden you see rest. You see purity amongst the darkest of hell. You see light, you see God, you see
peace. It is as if you were just
sent into hell to fight the demons, to realize you have defeated the enemy and
come out on the other end with ultimate relief. It is over now.
And then you come home to find your spouse, the one you love
and know and cherish. You find him
falling in love with this sweet gift.
You see his face light up, like it does when he sees you - and you know
it is love, a deep love; another sigh of relief. To watch your husband so gently take care of her, beyond
words. It is as if life now has
color, life now has meaning, life now as I know it is all new again, the
starting of an entirely new life.
The old self is gone and this new life is before me.
Holding her in my arms, I see how God must hold us, how he
must cherish us.
And then, the reality of a newborn sets in. Why is she crying? Am I holding her right? Is her poop the right color? Oh yay, I have 30 minutes to take a
shower because I smell like rotten breast milk! Again, why is she crying? Am I doing this right?
Is it my fault that she is acting this way? She’s in the next room napping, but my heart hurts because I
want to hold her. Again, why is
she crying?
Out of all the times in my life I see the world very
differently. A new life has swept
into my heart, a new purpose, a new vision, a new insight into all things in
this world, into God, into His love, into suffering. It is uncomfortable.
I am uncomfortable.
I suppose a mother will rarely have a warm meal again, or
cereal that is not soggy. I didn’t
realize this. The old self is
literally ripped away, there is really no time to live selfishly any
longer.
Uncomfortable.
So motherhood has taken on a new definition for me:
A tool I definitely see useful for salvation.
Thank you Lord.
