We were in the middle of watching a show, which show is not really important or relevant, but I found myself thinking “I wonder if I’ll be like that when I grow up?”. Then I had to laugh because…I’m 35…I probably should have stopped thinking that way when I graduated college or when I got married or after giving birth to our son (the list goes on and on).
It also made me think back to something my Grandma had said to me years ago. “It’s funny Elyse. I know that I’m old and of course I know how old I am but I still feel like I’m 18…even though I definitely no longer look it”.
At the time that she told me this, I was in my 20s and we had a good laugh together but I didn’t really think about it beyond that conversation. Today, Grandma is still with us but mentally her memory isn’t as strong as it once was. She wouldn’t likely remember that conversation since she doesn’t usually remember who I am anymore. But I wish that I could sit down and tell her that I finally get it. I get what she was trying to say that day as we chatted about life and as she described to me how drastically the world and our physical appearances changes year after year but how that internal youthful spirit just seems to linger.
I’ve got a 3 year old who is looking to me daily for guidance, love, information, attention, feedback...I’m helping to mold a small person’s mind/personality. That seems absurd to me some days because I don’t really feel like I’ve fully molded myself. I still feel like I may have untapped potential, like I have a journey that I haven’t realized…like I haven’t quite “grown up”.
Despite all of the painful, beautiful, memorable, life changing moments that we go through: do we all spend our lives feeling like maybe someday we’ll finally grow up?
Here’s the crazy truth: I’ve been a mom for over 2 years now and despite feeling like a failure every couple of days…the authorities have not broken down the door to confirm that fear. Anyone who has kept up with my very inactive blog in the past knows that I struggled to become a mom. Miscarriages have a way of damaging your heart and making you feel defeated. And as I’ve said before…I prayed…so much. A husband, who continued to love on me, and talking to God about my fears, hopes, insecurities and depression; got me through the darkness.
When I found out I was pregnant with Lucas my heart jumped into my throat in excitement and just as quickly sank down into my feet in fear. The beginning weeks of the pregnancy were filled with prayers all day every day…that this pregnancy and this baby would be safe and healthy and successful. Many moms tend to countdown the days until they aren’t feeling sick anymore or until they can reveal the gender of the baby. I was counting down the days in a worried mental calendar of memories, “Okay…we’re further along than the first miscarriage….okay we’re almost to the time frame of the second miscarriage…”. Once we had passed all of the milestones/weeks that corresponded with the previous losses, I was able to breathe a tiny bit easier. And a tip from me to any moms who are expecting: I would not recommend googling all of the millions of things that can still go wrong with a pregnancy beyond that point (the internet is an evil temptress of nonsense and knowledge).
Despite the fear that lingered with me…my pregnancy with Lucas was the best. I loved getting bigger every day and knowing that it was my body creating a safe space for our child to grow. I loved feeling him move and stretch and hiccup throughout the day. It was like having a tiny partner in crime constantly hanging around reminding me of how blessed and lucky I was. I have spoken to many women who hated pregnancy: they hated the weight, the swollen feet, waking up all night to use the bathroom, not sleeping well, breaking out, food aversions, puking, etc. I was blessed with a very low stress pregnancy and had spent so much time praying to be pregnant and for our baby to continue growing safely… that it seemed like 9 months went by so fast.
Lucas joined our world in May 2016. All of my prayers…answered in one tiny person. I don’t know if he’ll ever understand the healing that he brought to my heart. If you’ve seen my social media or even my phone, it’s obvious that I’m a little obsessed with the kid. I genuinely enjoy hanging out with him and watching him figure things out. He’s funny, sweet (most of the time) and has my coordination (constantly falling over his own feet). He’s got my husband’s good looks and he dances like his mama…I mean really….can you think of a better combination?
Over 2 years into this mom adventure and here is what I know: I will never feel good enough and that’s okay. I’ve had some success, I’ve encountered plenty of failure, there’s been crying/whining (from all 3 of us) and even more laughter. I’ve learned to ask for help/advice, I’m constantly second guessing my decisions, I can sing every nursery rhyme and toddler show theme song upon request, I understand a language that sometimes sounds like gibberish but makes perfect sense to my toddler, when I put my mind to it I can multitask like a boss, my car almost always looks like the Junk Lady from The Labyrinth and sometimes I look like I crawled out of someone’s gym bag and slapped a hat on. So what do I think about being a mom so far?
I’ve never been happier.
And just in case my verbal vomit style of writing doesn't make sense...this song by Bethany Dillon seems to sum it up perfectly.
