Friday, July 5, 2013

Reflections on Motherhood



Our sweet Rosie is just over three months today.

I’ve had so many good intentions of blogging about our birth story, our nursing saga, our adventures with a little one in a big city… but I’ve been purposefully staying away from this blog, wanting to soak up these precious, fleeting moments with our baby. I know I will never regret holding and loving and enjoying our little girl. My blog may get quiet at times, but that’s because my home is now full of cooing and crying and silly songs.

But while Rosie is sleeping tonight, I thought I would start some reflections on motherhood.

Plenty of people warned me that life with a newborn would be crazy, that nursing might hurt, that housekeeping and cooking would suddenly not matter as much, and that my relationship with my husband would change. And yet, because I had read lots of books and talked to other young mothers, I had convinced myself I was prepared. But now I look back on my naïve self and just laugh. Nothing could have really prepared me for how utterly exhausted and drained I would feel (although working at summer camps was good practice). Nothing could have prepared me for the flood of new emotions that would wash over me—that when my baby cried, my heart would jump inside of me and long to respond. Nothing could have prepared me for the frustration and pain I would experience as I nursed a tongue-tied baby.

But books also didn’t explain the joyous warmth that would bubble inside of me when my baby looked up and smiled at me. No one quite told me how it would feel to be the best part of someone’s day. I wasn’t expecting to be so in love with a tiny someone I had only met a few months ago, to be so saddened that she is growing so quickly, or to be so excited to teach her about God and His world.

Now I know why the older woman in the check-out line looks longingly at my baby and says how fast they grow up. Because that will be me one day soon. God, help me to be grateful for each day I can spend with Rosie. Help me to enjoy her innocence, and to appreciate each stage, and to love her sacrificially as You love Your own children.

And Rosie, thanks for being my baby. You are worth every stretch mark, every 3 AM feeding, and every missed dinner out. You are precious in my sight, and I would rather rock you in my arms for one minute than hold all the riches of this world.