This is a letter to my son. Why would I share something so
personal (especially when you read on and see the ugliness of my heart)? I’ll
get to that.
This year was really hard for me and I don’t know why. Maybe
I wasn’t prepared. Maybe it was all the transitions crammed into one year of
marriage (wedding, moving, traveling, living out of suitcases, baby). Or maybe
I’m just more sinful than the rest. Whatever the reason I refuse to be ashamed
of the struggle. Interwoven in all the mess and sin, God’s grace sustained and
redeemed. God’s grace made the ugly, beautiful.
Yesterday we celebrated Aiden’s first birthday and I
couldn’t help but celebrate all the change that has taken place in my heart
too. I once idolized motherhood. I thought I would love every second of every
day. That hasn’t been the case. Aiden arrived and motherhood knocked me on my
butt. I saw sin that I never dreamed could be in my heart. All the while God
was molding and chiseling me to look more like his son. In each moment, his
grace was sufficient for me.
I share the struggle for those new moms to know you’re not
alone. Anything you’re feeling (joy, anger, sadness, exhaustion, anxiety) is
probably totally normal. You. Are. Not. Alone. This is hard and that’s ok. It
gets better and God’s grace is sufficient.
I share the struggle for all the single or childless married
ladies to know that God is for you. If you do desire children and the answer
has thus far been, “no” I empathize with you. I’ve always struggled to know
that God is giving me his best. So many times this year in the midst of the
hardest days I scoffed that this could be God’s best for me. Each day he gently
reminded me that it was indeed, his best. Hindsight always helps, and I am so
grateful for all the really hard days. He really does love me so. This year was
his best for me, even when it didn’t feel like it. God IS for you.
I share the struggle for all those seasoned mommas who walk
the daily grind. As I wrote this I realized that all the tears, sleepless
nights, extra pounds, and heartache were more than worth it. That is easy to
forget, but what a gift it is to steward these little souls.
I share the struggle because as good as motherhood is, it is
not meant to be idolized. I don’t want the picture perfect vision I had of
motherhood. I want the messy, grace-filled reality of motherhood. In that
version I get more of Jesus and gosh darn it, isn’t that the real treasure?
_______________________________________________________
To the boy who made me a momma,
Yesterday you turned one year old. Unfathomable. They all
told me it would go fast. They all told me not to blink. And last week I sat in
the living room putting your newborn clothes into totes and I kept thinking
that it’s impossible that you ever used to be that small.
But you were. I can’t believe all that has changed in twelve
months. I know I’ll be saying the same thing next year when you turn two. And
they next year and the next. But let’s not think about that. I can’t bear to
think about you growing bigger. Right now I just want to sit here and reminisce
on this wild ride that was our first year together.
This year was humbling. This year was hard. This year
changed me in ways I didn’t know were possible. This year was defining.
I remember the first time I held you. You were so much
smaller than I expected. You wouldn’t stop crying. You spent most of the first
two hours of your life wailing. But I can’t blame you. What an abrupt entrance
into the world!
I remember thinking I should feel… more. Everyone told me it
was love at first sight, but I didn’t feel that way. That made me feel guilty,
until I realized that everyone’s story is different.
I remember I loved your chubby cheeks and how much hair you
had. You even had my white patch! I loved the way you smelled. That sweet
newborn smell is magic.
I (barely) remember your first visitors. Everybody thought
you were just perfect. I nodded off through the “ooh’s” and “aah’s” because I was
so exhausted.
I remember that first night in the hospital. You let out the
longest fart I have ever heard from any person ever and your daddy and I
laughed and laughed and laughed.
I remember staying up until 3 AM because you wouldn’t fall
asleep in your basinet and I couldn’t sleep with you wiggling. Your daddy woke
up to me sobbing because I was so tired.
I remember that breastfeeding was SO hard. We both had no
clue what we were doing and I was so worried about your weight.
I remember when my OB told me we could go home early, but I
said no because I was so scared and I didn’t feel ready to be on our own.
I remember the day we brought you home. I thought I would be
so happy, but the truth is I spent the rest of the day in bed crying. I
couldn’t even bring myself to get up and say goodbye to the friends and family
that came to visit us.
I remember that night when a mom friend came over. Even
though she had twin baby girls at home she came over and sat with me while I
cried and talked about how crazy I felt. She made me feel so normal and brought
me a basket full of goodies. She was the hands of Christ to me that day.
I remember those first few nights at home, how you wouldn’t
sleep. You still had your days and nights mixed up. I remember begging God to
make you sleep. I didn’t know I could be so tired.
I remember feeling like we brought a stranger home. I didn’t
love you right away, but I didn’t know you yet. Oh, how that changed!
I remember those first few weeks crying more than I ever
have in my life. I didn’t recognize myself. I remember wondering if I would
ever feel like myself again. It’s been a year and I still don’t feel like the
me before I became a mom, but I wouldn’t change that.
I remember when your daddy went back to work. I was jealous.
I missed my job and I wasn’t sure about this “mom thing” quite yet.
I remember how your Grammy and Grandpaw selflessly served
you, me, and daddy. I wouldn’t have survived without them down the street. I
loved watching them dote on you.
I remember making it through that first month and realizing
that I was obsessed with you. I don’t even know when it happened, but I fell
head over heels for you.
I remember that things got easier. I stopped crying all the
time. We figured out how to breastfeed. You gained weight. We finally got into
a little bit of a rhythm. And I realized that I loved being your momma, that it
was the best job in the world.
I remember that even though it got easier, it was still
really hard. I remember thinking some
days, “I’m not cut out for this.” God helped me see through those lies, but I’m
pretty sinful and that makes being a momma hard.
I remember that you were so patient with me. In my anger and
selfishness you still needed me. More amazingly, you still wanted me.
I remember traveling all over with you: in airplanes, in the
car. You were the best traveler.
I remember how stingy you were with your laughs. Only
daddy’s beard on your tummy could crack you. I loved your squeals and your
cackles.
I remember that sometimes in the middle of the night I would watch you sleep in my arms
after I nursed you. For someone who loves sleep as much as me that is a big
deal. I used to have to pry myself out of the rocking chair because I loved
your peaceful sleepy face.
I remember being so frustrated with myself for my sin. I
wanted to be selfless and love you like Jesus does. I failed so often and I
hated that.
I remember in the beginning that you were so sensitive. Loud
noises used to make you cry. You didn’t like it when the twins would yell.
I remember the first time you tried pureed food. You made
the funniest faces and most of it ended up on your bib. You LOVED sweet
potatoes. You used to grunt and whine when the bowl was empty.
I remember that year two of marriage was a lot harder than
year one. Some days I missed when it was just daddy and me. We wouldn’t change
a thing, but life just gets more complicated with a baby.
I remember the night we let you cry it out. I was a wreck. I
hated listening to you cry. I remember the next morning walking into your room,
you smiled at me and I thought, “Thank goodness! He doesn’t hate us!”
I remember the way you crawled in the beginning. I don’t
even know how to describe it, but you were so determined and I loved that.
I remember comparing myself to other new moms. They seemed
so much more put together than me. They weren’t having such a hard time. Why
was I struggling so much? You were such a delight and really so easy. I
remember feeling ashamed that I wasn’t more put together.
I remember when you stopped being quiet and shy. One day
your personality just exploded. You were loud and held your own with the twins.
I loved watching your sass and spirit blossom.
I remember missing you after being at the grocery store for
an hour. I remember that I would look at your pictures when I wasn’t with you.
I remember those terrifying moments when I thought you had
stopped breathing. I remember sneaking in your room at night to check on you,
just to make sure you were ok.
I remember that when you fell or bonked your head your face
would scrunch up and it would take you a second to start crying. I remember
that you always reached for me to comfort you. I always hated when you got
hurt, but I loved being the one to hold you and kiss your salty, wet cheeks.
I remember at times my love for you made my chest hurt.
After daddy and I got married I thought my capacity to love was maxed out. I
was so wrong. God blessed me with more love to give and you absolutely stole my
heart.
Aiden James, this year was hard, but that had nothing to do
with you. This was hard because of my sinful heart. I wish I was the perfect
mother, but I’m not. Praise be to God for his abundant grace. In my failings,
he is enough. I am grateful for the things he has taught me this year through
you. I am absolutely humbled that he chose me to be your momma. You are a
delight I have cherished this year with you and will cherish every year I get.
Love,
Momma
