Eighteen Months a Mother

I've been reminiscing all that motherhood has brought me this last year and a half. As just us two, I never considered the jacket, snack, cup, and tissue I might possibly need for a neighborhood stroll. I never knew that I wouldn't leave the house without coming back in at least once for some forgotten item. Or that clothes would grow too tight, then too big, then small again. Words and all types of fluids would burst out of me with no respect for innocent bystanders. Hair would straighten, fall out, and new whisps stick straight up. The sleepless nights were well communicated beforehand, now I've gotten to the bonus round. I'm able to detail a long list with all the ways I fall short and things that quickly evaporate my patience. I've never felt like such a failure, and yet I've never known such all-encompassing joy.

I'm amazed at the rhythm my body gracefully falls into, rocking-soothing until peace again overtakes us both. Her arms draped across my shoulders, staring up with tired eyes that soften my heart more than 10 dozen roses or the biggest diamond ring ever could. Pursed lips, leaning in to kiss, and one last squeeze from those delicate arms- No need to search any further for such deep contentment. Rolling on the floor, wrestling, and tickling have become the very best after dinner activity. Even with all the kicking-screaming fits and complete exhaustion, I've never been so sure that I was made for something. I am made to mother. 

My discovery has also been that motherhood has little to do with knowing the best home-remedies or tried-and-true methods, but has everything to do with hearts and souls connecting to nurture the gift that is our child. I'm not very good at reading (and completing) self-help books, but raising our child and our children to be, is the best self-help I can ever do. 

I will never be so weary and needing of a Savior, never more moved beyond myself, and never so abundatanly rewarded.