On Motherhood

I couldn't resist posting this sweet picture of Taylor taken the day after he was born.  

As I have reflected on being a mother this week (because we are reminded constantly that the all-important one-day-of-the-year-to-honor-your-mother is fast approaching), I have decided that, as simplistic as it sounds, being a mom is just plain hard.  As my first child, Taylor experienced the blunders and mistakes of first-time parents.  But it wasn't like we knew everything by the time Britta came along... or Lexee... or Shilo... or even Mauri (although I was more able to let Mauri cry without stressing as much about it, which was good because that girl was not a very content baby).  Each baby brought new challenges, their own temperaments and personalities, and the need for love and attention.  I can remember my own mom telling me, after a particularly stressful day, that being a mom doesn't get easier.  The challenges just change.  I told her that it HAD to get easier, and that if I could just take a shower by myself without someone banging on the door needing me, or in the bathroom pulling back the curtain, it would be so much easier.  I only needed a few moments to myself each day then I could handle anything.

I now shower without interruption (most days).  Sometimes all of my children are out of the house for at least 6 hours at a time.  I know some women think I'm to the easy part of mothering.  Wrong.  Just the other day I was talking to a friend of mine and she said something to the effect of "Remember when we thought it was so hard to have all our little kids at home all day?  Wouldn't you just love to take those days back?"  So I will say what has been said to me (it's funny how we don't believe good advice when we are in that particular stage of life),  "Enjoy your little ones."  Life gets busier as they get older, the problems get bigger, and solutions more important.  And I'm sure it will continue as I move into the next stage of married-children-and-grandchildren (hopefully still a few years away).  I tell every young mom I know that once your child hits middle school, the time will fly.  

This precious little baby, with his fresh-from-the-womb misshapen head, and his swollen eye from a rough forceps delivery, is now a 6-foot 3-or-4-inch, nearly 21-year-old man (just months away from being the age I was when he was born).  
My, it went fast.  

And I still stress constantly about him.  Is he safe?  Is he well?  Is he happy or discouraged?  How has his week been?  What will he do when he gets home in September?  Will his adjustment from mission to home life be hard?  How can I make that easier?  Where could he find a job?  Where will he go to school?  What will he choose to study?  Will he get married right away?  He's going to need a car.  And a phone.  I need to get his room ready.  What will he want to eat his first night back at home?  Oh, I need to get that package mailed this week.  He needs his prescription refilled.  Is his eczema getting bad?  I'm telling you, I've stressed (and prayed) more about that boy (I can still call him that because, after all, I am his mother) since he's been in Mexico than I have stressed about him before.

And, through observation of my own mother and others, I know it doesn't get easier.  Even when they get married (or not) and leave the nest for good (or not).  Even when they have their own families (or not).  It's all hard.  Which is why we are here, right?  The learning never stops, but it doesn't mean we can't enjoy the journey.  And I'm working on not enjoying it in retrospect, but in full living color as it happens.