This last
week(s) has been decently trying for me. I think a lot of it has to do with
pregnancy and physical limitations. I've noticed a definite slowing down in my
body as I've entered into this final section of pregnancy. I've felt
overwhelmed by the smallest of things both physical and emotional, by the
preparations needed for Abram's birth and arrival, by parenting my toddler,
certain that every day I have a hard day with her is a predictor of my
inability to parent Abram well. I've had this longing to stop everything that
I'm committed to, because I just want to sit down and think about this little
boy-- not about other people and other things-- just him and who he is. In all
the chaos of daily life, I've been fearful that I'm missing moments that should
be about him. But life rarely offers us those time-stopping opportunities. We
just have to engage in the midst of the busyness.
As I get
closer to April, my thoughts have settled on a few things in particular,
questions about how our family will change, concerns with parenting and life. I
don't have too many concerns with Abi Kate loving Abram. Maybe I should. I am
completely certain there will be a transitional period with her and that she
will have days of acting out. But she's a helper, and she much prefers to be in
the presence of other children instead of alone. She's never shown any real
jealousy over Tommy or I holding other kids/babies-- she's normally just been
curious. My heart knows her heart, and I
think she'll love him just fine. I fear I'm not going to explain myself well
here, but I'll do my best...
As Abram's
arrival inches closer my own doubts and fears of the unknown inch closer to my
heart, making me question my ability to mother two children. I've reached the
point of vulnerability in this pregnancy where the pessimism of others has the
ability to permeate my thoughts in a way that is typically easier for me to
reject. I don't mind truth, even truth
that's harder to embrace. I can appreciate truthfulness for all that it holds.
I don't like cynicism and martyrdom. It's been difficult to escape the
"you better get ready" comments in regards both to parenting more
than one child and in regards to having a boy. Cultural as those comments may
be, they really don't serve to encourage the listener or to help prepare them
for anything specific. They just seem to be a way to "one-up" (which
I personally think derives from insecurity). Kind of like when I hear people
tell first time parents, "Oh you better sleep now because you'll never
sleep again." That's not true. Of course there will be times where you'll
lose sleep, but I think most expecting parents are pretty aware of that. It
just feels like fear-based commentary, sweeping statements made to make the hearer feel less significant
and unprepared. Usually, I can just acknowledge comments like that for what
they are. But as I've struggled with my own concerns, those comments have found
a wedge into my mind. There have been a lot of uplifting comments too which I'm so grateful for, but I guess within the last two weeks the others have just been louder. I've been very thankful in recent weeks for the close
friends surrounding me that have encouraged me with honesty about the harder
realities of parenting multiple children while also balancing it with all the
wonderful things that happen with adding new life to the family. It's good to hear truth, and it's even better to see it displayed in their lives-- the way that they very clearly love mothering, even on hard days.
This weekend,
I made a trip to GA to see one of my favorite mothers, and while my hips still
have not forgiven me for those 8 hours in the car, when I made mention of what
it would be like to parent two instead of one, her response was simply,
"You will do beautifully. It's great. It is." It's funny how some
people know just the right thing to say. I needed to hear that. I didn't need
to hear a heavy dose of someone else's vague reality-- I will be getting my own experience with that
in a few months. I did need encouragement. She didn't know that, but as usual,
her love for motherhood shone clearly in her words and her actions. I felt the
same way when I told my midwife, a mother of boys and girls, that all I've
known is girls and I hear boys are really different... she said, "Nah.
You'll figure it out." To her, it was just a passing comment. She probably
doesn't even remember saying it, but I do. Because it implied that my ability
to parent well rests much less on the gender of my child and more on my knowledge
as a mother... and I so deeply appreciate that.
I appreciate
it for all that it awakens in me. We didn't enter into Abram's pregnancy
lightly, and I don't hold a unicorns and rainbows theory about parenting
multiple children. While I won't share our very specific prayers after our
miscarriage, I will say that I believe his life has heavy purpose, otherwise I
do not believe I would be pregnant. And in giving us this child, God in His
wisdom obviously knew we'd be raising two young children. It's easy to forget
His calling and His anointing. But these people reminded me of that-- just with
their words. I am insufficient on my own, but in my weakness He is strong.
Strong enough to equip me to mother two children.
But the
deepest concerns that have laid on my heart most heavily is the change that
will inevitably take place with Tommy and I. I've always been protective over
my time with him because I believe it's vital to successful marriage. These
days, I feel that pull even more, wanting to spend every second I can with him
and shut out everything else before this big change happens in April. It's
funny how our culture has a way of rushing things, urging us on to the
"next big step" as soon as we complete the first one. It's a rare
event to stop and cherish the moments we're in instead of anticipating the ones
that will arrive. I'm guilty of that. Tommy and I were married for 4 years
before having Abi Kate, and we dated for 4 years before getting married. 8
years of just us. At the time, I definitely thought about having a family
often, finding myself ready to move to the next level, dreaming about it and
how sweet it would be to have a big belly, to feel a baby move, to watch Tommy snuggle a tiny
one- our tiny one. I'm thankful for the people around us that said, "Take
your time" and I'm thankful that God's wisdom overrides our own perfect
plans. I look back on those years with just the two of us, and they are so
precious to me now. I cherish them in a way that I wish I would've had the
knowledge to do back then. I wish I'd spent a little more time savoring the
days of us, and a little less time dwelling on the potential future. It wasn't
because we were young that we needed years together. Younger or older, I don't
think it has a ton to do with parental preparedness. I've seen great young
parents and less than stellar older parents. But I'm glad we had them, because
even in my own naivety of the transformation that was taking place, our hearts
were so ready for Abi Kate and the changes parenting brings to a marriage. We
found pleasure in the sacrifice of releasing time with just the two of us
because we had waited for her as a bonded unit for 4 years. We communicated
more easily about parenting issues because I knew him as husband and he knew me
as wife so very well. Marriage is different than dating, and parenting inside
of marriage is different than marriage alone. It's not a bad thing at all-- it just requires
more intentional effort. There is a spontaneity that must be sacrificed, the
ease of independence as a couple to do whatever whenever that shifts. The simple
tenderness of just the two of us fully investing in only each other to
investing in another life, a life that is needy of love and direction and time
from us both... It is a change. This new season, as we wait for another child
to enter our home, I know that things will again change and be different.
Getting away will be harder, staying deeply connected in the midst of two age two and
under won't flow so easily as it does with just one. And sometimes, I find
myself just missing the ease of those earlier years. Don't misunderstand--I
don't think there's special as parenting with the person you are in love with,
the person that really is your closest friend. Period. It is precious. The
relationship evolves to new depths that could not happen without the experience
of pregnancy and parenting. And Tommy and I are closer now than we were back then. But the knowledge of how children shift things has
made me aware of my need to live in THESE moments, something I don't do well
naturally. Not to dwell on the past, but to appreciate it for all that it was
and all that it brought us. Not to dwell on the future where fear of the
unknown permeates, but to rest in the assurance of our very deep love for each
other. Not to long for easier moments that we will one day do again when these
selfless days that we will surely miss slip by, leaving us as just us two once
again. I want to simply enjoy THIS moment. The one where I'm at. The one where
it's too hard for me to lift the toddler after prayer time at night. The one
where we share our lives with just one little girl. The one where I feel a
little boy kick me from inside. I'm a planner and a preparer, so staying in the
moment is often hard for me. I want to fully appreciate these moments, and
to anticipate the rewarding things that await our family instead of the
difficult ones that society brings reminders of- the way it will be when Tommy
and I see Abram for the first time. The first hours that we will spend with
just each other and our new baby. The moment that we watch our little girl see
her little brother for the first time. The way we will watch him sleep together
at night, completely mystified that we ever lived a moment without him. The way
we will value time with just each other when both our babes are asleep. The way
our love will grow for each other and for our family as new life joins us.
I'm
convinced the reason pregnancy lasts so
long is because there's so much work to do, inwardly, before a baby arrives.
There's still so much of myself that will have to die in the face of childhood
needs. There's a great amount of sacrifice that my heart will have to yield to
so I can lovingly respond to both Abi Kate and Abram. Every late night, every
busy morning, every selfless moment where I must put them first...my heart is
still being readied for those things. I can feel it. And I think the chaos of
the previous weeks has been a quiet urging from God-- to recall my own
insufficiencies and rely on His abilities instead. To make a practice of
relying on Him for the easiest of things, things that would likely be easy
targets of frustration when there is more than one child who needs me. I can
always tell a difference when my efforts are of my own.
In the still
moments, I remember that at some point between birth and these last two years,
I've become a mother. I learned how to mother Abi Kate. I learned to pay
attention and be sensitive to her individual needs. And I will learn with Abram
the same way. It will be busy but that's what these years have been preparing
me for. I won't do it in and of my own accord. I will do it with the calling
that Christ has laid over my life to do it. And no matter what fears I have or
what fears are spoken over me by strangers or people, that will be enough. There
are worse things than little boys that scale furniture and two young children
that need everything I can give at the exact same moment. I can think back to
May and remember things that are worse indeed.
There are big
changes on our horizon for sure. Some will be hard and some will be better
than we dream. And in the waiting time, I am doing my best to treasure these
days for all that they are-- even when they overwhelm me. I'm going to stop letting
one hard day with one child make me certain that I can't mother two. I'm going
to close my heart and my mind to the cynics. I'm going to spend time with the
man that I adore and rest in the knowledge that we were designed to raise these
babies together, even if life gets busier with the addition of Abram. I'm going
to place my certainty in the One who equips me, the One who has knit these
lives together, instead of in my best
efforts. Because the truth is, this was never about me anyway... these little
lives and these days are always about Him.
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