Nine Years

Today marks nine years that I have been a Mama.  Today is my oldest son, Michael’s, ninth birthday.  Each year when I put the kids to bed the night before their birthday I tell them the story of what we were doing at that time the night before they were born and I tell them the story of their birth.  They look forward to this special time each year.  Michael’s birth story has extra details because his was the only birth where I labored.  At least in that traditional sense.  I remember my husband, Austin, working through the night as we realized Michael would be coming soon.  I was 10 days past my due date, and yet it still came as a surprise somehow.  I remember walking up and down the streets of Oakley trying to pass the time when the contractions were early.  I remember Austin sleeping in the hospital room while I experienced pain I did not know was possible.  And I remember sinking into a deep depression after getting an epidural and having to lie there for hours, ultimately ending in a c-section. I remember the tears of anguish from the guilt and what felt like the weight of my decision.  Ultimately that decision did matter and I ended up with five c-sections in the end and some extra complications.  But you know what else I ended up with—an amazing, perfect, healthy baby boy and now an amazing, perfect, healthy nine-year-old.  I can now put into perspective all the things that felt crushing at that time.  And this perspective doesn’t just extend to the birth story; it extends to so many things.  

Nine years ago I so wanted to be the perfect mother.  We all do, I’m sure.  I wanted to nurture and discipline and love and teach.  So much so that at times it felt like an impossible weight to bear. Michael turned out to be an incredibly difficult baby.  Colic for twelve weeks, constant screaming.  He didn’t sleep through the night until the week before his little sister was born. He refused to take a bottle, refused to sleep, and refused most anyone but me.  It was challenging.  And then came Lizzie a short eighteen months later.  And then Ella thirteen months after that.  Chaos descended upon my life in a way I had never imagined.  I mean, who would have thought that an only child raised by a single parent would find having three kids under three to be a little overwhelming?  It seems obvious now, but when we decided we wanted a big family, I really had no clue. Honestly, there were times where I thought they might break me, where I thought I might already be broken.  I just didn’t know how I could possibly be the perfect mother to all of these small children.  And if I couldn’t do it perfectly, well what was the point?  I became more frustrated and more tired and more disappointed with who I had become.  

I’d like to say that it all changed quickly, and that one day I woke up and realized that I was missing it and I fixed it all.  But it just didn’t quite happen that way.  I had moments of clarity along the way, moments where I soaked it in and enjoyed what I had.  But I also continually worried and fretted and tried to control all the things.  A short while after Ella was born I was pregnant again but also terribly sick.  I had bronchitis that become pleurisy.  Ultimately, I was put on bedrest and we still lost our baby.  I was heart-broken, and yet, God was with me.  He showed me that He was there and that He was doing the best thing for me.  It’s a story for another day.  But I knew, without a doubt, that even though things didn’t look perfect, God was in it. 

Fast forward another year and Zeke came, we moved twice, rehabbed a house, and started homeschooling. It really was a scene right out of a live comedy skit.  I can say that our six months in that 1,000 square foot rental house while I was pregnant with Ginny, designing and rehabbing a house, and homeschooling the other children was the hardest six months of my life.  But God did something during that time.  He met me there in that chaos and showed me that the chaos wasn’t something to fix.  It wasn’t something to get rid of or scream at.  The chaos was, in large part, the beauty of the life that we had made.  The chaos was a big part of his ever-continuing refinement of my heart.  The chaos was to be expected and embraced, not harnessed and squashed.  

Chaos is still sometimes hard for me.  I enjoy quiet and order.  My brain can only think through one thing at a time, and yet there are usually at least three people who need me at once.  But instead of the chaos making me scream, I can smile now.  I can laugh.  And I can pick one person to help at a time.  I now know that I am not infinite.  I am one person.  One imperfect Mama, who is doing her very best for the five little people who make up such a large part of her heart.  And the perspective that I’ve gained over the last nine years shows me that despite my faults, despite all of the ways that I wasn’t perfect, God has showed up and he has filled in the places that I could not.  

Michael is a smart, thoughtful, inquisitive boy.  Younger children gravitate to Michael like they do to ice cream.  He is fun, engaging, and he is a protector.  He asks thoughtful questions and wants to know how all things work.  He is a voracious reader.  His detailed knowledge of The Hobbit surpasses anything I’ve seen in any adult. He has his struggles of course, like us all.  But I’m so proud to be his Mama.  I’m so proud of the boy that he has grown to be, and I can’t wait to watch what God continues to do in his life.  Nine years ago I thought that all of this was up to me.  I thought that I had to be perfect to get to this day.  I thought that if I messed up, then he would not become someone great.  What an inflated view of myself I had.  This was never all up to me.  Of course, there are things that Austin and I have done along the way to influence the boy that he is today. But so much of it has happened despite us.  Despite our mistakes, despite our failures.  God has been there all along and he will continue to be there.  

It has been a wild ride so far.  An incredible journey.  Nothing in life has taught me more or drawn me closer to Jesus than being a mom. Thank you to God for the last nine years, for the work that He has done in me.  I can’t wait to see what the next nine years bring.  I know one thing—there will be more laughter, more smiles, and more grace. If I’ve learned anything, it’s that it doesn’t all depend on me. I can sit back and smile, enjoy, and laugh. I remember that we are all flawed, and it is okay.  Jesus took that burden to be perfect away.  We don’t have to be perfect, we just have to run to the one who is.