(Draft from May 2014)
The other night I stayed up really late (catching up on my shows and surfing the web looking for meals I would be excited about making and eating - it was super fun), so it wasn't till 2:30am that I made myself shut down all my technology and brush my teeth. As I lay in bed waiting for sleep to settle in I heard Sage start to shift around in her crib, then she began to stir and mumble incoherently, then it cleared into a sweet and subtle, "mama, mommy, mommy" - over and over with increasing loudness and urgency. I went into her room to find her standing there, waiting for me. Ryan had to work late and early the next day so he was sleeping at the hospital and I wanted some company in that big, empty bed anyway. When I brought her in, she saw a big body pillow on Ryan's side of the bed and got excited to see her dad, she gasped, "dad! daddy?" - i showed her it was just a pillow, she stroked the pillow, "daddy? daddy?" and decided I was right - it wasn't him. We cuddled and fell asleep.
In the light of day, when we are up and going, when I am trying to get things done, sometimes I feel overwhelmed and overloaded - I struggle with the fact that I am the first person these three little people turn to for everything. It is a challenge for me to be relied upon, trusted and needed so greatly. But in the middle of the night, as I laid in my bed alone, awake - I listened to Sage stir and wake and I knew she would call for
me. It filled my heart and made me smile and I realized that the very things that challenge me the most about motherhood are also the things that make it worth it.
The other day Ryan came home from a super eventful couple days of work - He told me about the crazy injuries that had come through and the cool surgeries he got to do to help fix some pretty demolished body parts. The things made possible by modern medicine are completely amazing to me and the fact that my husband is at the point in his career that he is doing surgery is also amazing to me - I'm super proud of how hard he works and how much he has learned and how much he has progressed and I said to him in awe, "you do such cool stuff everyday". Without hesitation and with complete sincerity he responded, "I think
you do such cool stuff everyday. You are raising three amazing kids..." and he went on to list some of the daily things that I do and why they are "so cool". I was so caught off guard and at the same time so penetrated by his comments - he was him telling me a truth I already know deep down, but occasionally forget... My job as a mom is just as cool and important as any other job out there, if not more so.
Yes, I am the one they ask to retrieve every toy, snack and art supply imaginable, I am the one who they still want to wipe their bum, to prepare food and clean up all manner of messes - at times these tasks, or the requests to perform them, make me crazy - BUT I am also the one they trust, the one they ask for hugs and a listening ear, the one who provides entertainment, nourishment and healing. In moments of peace, I am able to realize what a privilege and what a blessing it is to be the one they turn to.
What makes it mean even more is when I think about how much these things meant to me when I was the child on the receiving end. As the memories distill with time, the routine-ness of these tasks fades away and the love given is what remains. I remember the delivery of many a grape chewable tylenol in the middle of the night to soothe my growing pains. I remember my mom reading to me - stories, yes, but the most memorable were the long reading assignments I just didn't have the brain power to make it through in high school (yes, that's right, high school). I remember my mom on the sideline of every soccer game, rain or shine. I remember my mom turning back with me on hikes she was dying to finish. I remember delicious dinners (food I still crave and look forward to), baskets of clean, folded laundry, battles fought over the inseam of my shorts and my ability to abide by a curfew. I remember good things and times made better by the presence of my mother...
I remember so clearly a couple specific experiences when, as a full grown child I needed my mom in just the same way that my littles need me. The first I was probably about 16 - I don't remember anything specific that triggered this fit of emotion, but I was
so stirred up with emotions and raging hormones and just plain confused and overwhelmed by it all - I came home, walked down into the basement, saw my mom, collapsed into her lap/arms as best as I could fit and just wept, all the while spouting gibberish and trying to figure out what was going on with me. After a while she looked at me and asked, "so, what's wrong sweetie?" and I blurted, laughed, wailed, "I don't even know!" She sat there for a minute and I watched her face light up when she figured it out, "I know what it is! You're experiencing pms for the first time!" and then she laughed and so did I and I cried it out a little more, then all was well.
The other time was in college at the height of my distress over what to do with my life - go on a mission, marry Ryan - commitment issues with both options, confusion, emotion, pressure, so much - and the same thing happened, only this time my mom was upstairs and I was officially an "adult"- yet I remember feeling so much like a child - upset, overwhelmed, confused and i just wanted to be held and rocked like a toddler.
The truth is, at one week shy of 31 years old, I still rely on the love of my mother. And now I have more patience when my toddlers get upset and just need a minute to gather their composure in the arms of someone who loves them unconditionally.
My mom is my hero. I also can't help but give a shout out to all those women out there who fill that role and meet those needs for me and so many others who don't have a mother in the neighborhood or in the world to turn to - the friends who commiserate and sympathize, the neighbors who serve, the church ladies who see a need and fill it.
