Being Mom was a title I wasn’t certain I would earn. My body wasn’t entirely made for making or carrying babies. It’s a long story and not one for this particular blog. It was hard to get pregnant, hard to carry them, hard to recover from a cesarean section, and hard in my physical recovery of the damage done to my hips and pelvis. My desire to be a mother was always there, but the intensity only rose higher when I was told it wouldn’t happen easily. 

When I was younger I would shop for other people’s babies and cry as I filed through the sizes of beautiful baby clothes on the racks. We had children young in comparison to many people our age, but we knew it may be a long road for us. It wasn’t that long or as difficult in comparison to so many others who have struggles like mine, but it sure was hard on us. 

When I held my son for the first time I pulled away his cap and swaddle and just looked at his body. I was amazed by this gift that God has given me. I rubbed my nose against his nose and said “ding ding ding” and we still do that to this day. 

He turns eight tomorrow and when I look back at his pictures I recall looking into that sweet newborn face wondering what the world would hold for him. Holding his hands for the first time wondering what those hands would be capable of in the future.

 

 

It’s funny now because I can examine those same photos now and see his sweet infant face and it all makes sense.

How did you not know what miraculous things those lips would say?

How could you not prepare for how witty he would be and keep you on your toes?

How could you not imagine the way he would see things with those brilliant blue eyes? 

It’s funny I still do that now. I wonder what he will do with his life. What instruments will he play? What will his favorite poem be? Who will he fall in love with?

 

How can I lead him in the right direction for kindness and goodness to others? How can I lead him on to his highest potential? 

What is within my means as a parent: financially, intellectually, in faith, in passion, with humor, with compassion, with love….

 

He said a few weeks ago, “Mom I know why I’m so smart. I’m part of you and you are a teacher. You show me how to do so many things and you have to have made me smart too.”

I hope that many years on down the road I look back at his pictures from his eighth birthday the same way I look at his newborn pictures and think… How could you have not seen the amazing things that were yet to come? To look back at them and recognize the hands, the nose, the mouth, the eyes and realize that a newborn is an empty canvas. It is unfamiliar but you love it already. You love how it changes and transforms. You aren’t the painter, but in so many ways you supply the brushes and you supply the colors of paint and encourage certain strokes and styles. When you look back at the blank canvas you see no emptiness and instead see all the things that it has already become. 

One of my acquaintances said to me ~  Do you realize my children are miracles? I mean really….. It’s pretty miraculous how all babies are created, but mine are true miracles as I wasn’t supposed to have them. I was told that I couldn’t have children… so they are really my little miracles. 

 

Actually… I completely understand how you feel.