On Being a Mom

Ten months ago I uttered the words "I'm your Mom" for the first time - a phrase I had always imagined would carry an unexplainable feeling hidden within it. An experience that carries so much weight in my life that it captures a million emotions all at once and suddenly I can see them all in front of me and hold them in my arms. There were times in life when I didn't know if I would ever get to say this sentence; and there were moments where I was simply afraid to. July 12, 2018 changed my whole world so that it's often hard to look back and truly remember what life was like before Jack.

Even thought I have babysat my whole life, studied Child Development, and have a genuine love for children, when I got pregnant with Jack I doubted that I would know what to do and how to do it. How do I know when to feed him? Or put him to sleep? Or swaddle him the right way? How do I know how to hold him or carry him or take him into the grocery store? The most surprising thing about stepping into motherhood is the instinctual response to my child. Even just figuring it out seems like an inherent Knowing; like I have always known how to care for our little Jack. Perhaps because it comes from a place of love, and love is something that can't be taught. It's a feeling you just Know - it's not a question or figuring out or even a decision you are forced to make - it overcomes you and bursts out of your heart and escapes your body in a way that the only way to describe is that it feels like love. 

That's what it's like with Jack. It feels like love. The purest, scariest, deepest love I know because there is always lingering the scary idea of loss.

I was listening to a talk on grief today from one of my favorite professors at Wheaton - Dr. Scottie May - and what she said was beautiful. If you know grief it is because you know love. This is why love is so vulnerable; this is why we sometimes hide from the idea of it and shield ourself from the feeling of it. When we love, there is always the lurking potential for grief.

In this life, I will choose love. And I will be open-hearted and fully alive in this love. Whatever happens, I pray Jack knows my love. And through this imperfect love, he will search for and come to know God's perfect love. That is my prayer as a Mom. Not to measure up or be anything; not to have the smartest, funniest, most athletic child; not to show people that we are a family that has it all together. It is now and always will be that my husband and child(ren) know the height and width and depth of love. The kind that brings us to our knees in prayer; teaches us how to show kindness and service to people; and seeks to consistently find God in our midst. The kind that is unexplainable but purely beautiful; the kind that courageously faces the possibility of the grief because of how it captures your whole being with its intrinsic power. The kind that feels like a natural overflow of who you are so that you can't just walk away and pretend it doesn't exist. The truth is, it's worth it; it's always worth it.

We love shopping trips together

Ben sent this to me while I was away for the weekend - it's one of my favorites ever!

His favorite little spot right now is right next to my shoes in the closet. 

Melt my heart right here.