“Waaaaaaahhhh…” Catherine’s cries pierced through the quiet darkness on the baby monitor. I laid there for a few seconds hoping she would find her pacifier and go back to sleep. She whimpered a few seconds longer and I had to mentally force my body to roll out of bed to go get her settled back to sleep. Having a teething 7 month old, a potty-training two year old, and a three year old who insists on sleeping on the floor (despite having a brand new toddler bed) meant that statistically speaking, at least one child would likely interrupt our sleep on a nightly basis. Some days Chris and I look at each other with that exhausted look all parents of young children know and we smile through the fatigue and know that this is just a season. Sometimes we have to remind each other it is just a season.
But as hard as it can be on some days, we love it.
The Winter Olympics are currently on television and we just happened to watch part of the figure skating competition tonight. After a few minutes, Caroline and Caleb–who are ages 2 and 3, respectively–started hugging and sliding across the hardwood floors in a dancing-like motion. Caleb reached around Caroline’s waist and lifted her about .5 inches off the floor.
“Look Mama! We’re ice skaping!” he hollered over to me.
It was one of those sweet, precious moments you want to mentally burn into your memory because you know how it feels to be watching something play out that you know you’re going to miss one day. I hugged both of them tightly while sitting on the couch later and said, “Don’t ever grow up and leave me. Stay little forever.” Caroline took my face in her tiny two-year-old hands–hands that are beginning to lose their childish baby fat and look more like the hands of a small child–and kissed me on the mouth. Caleb threw his head back laughing and said “Yes, I gone leave you mama!” “No, you’re not!” I argued back. “I’ll feed you all your favorite foods and let you live in my basement with your wife when you get married if you stay with me.” “But I gone marry you, mama.” He said back, serious this time. My heart melted.
Sometimes raising children is like that. Your heart is so incredibly full that you think it might explode. You’re watching everything you’ve ever wanted play out right in front of your eyes. You’re willing time to freeze, but it won’t. You look back at pictures on your phone from a year ago and say things like, “Look how little they were!” And then realize at the same time that today is the youngest they will ever be again.
Sometimes it’s beautiful. And sometimes it’s hard. Some days you feel like a successful parent if you fed them something more than Goldfish and actually got off the couch. Sometimes they drive you crazy and you yell at them, only to feel guilty about it later, vowing to be a better parent tomorrow. But what you know, deep in your soul, is that this is just a season. You just have them for just a season. And if you think back to how quickly the last 5 years…10 years…passed, you realize that it’s a very short season.
It’s bittersweet when one of your children becomes potty-trained. I’ve never met anyone that enjoys changing dirty diapers. (If you do, don’t admit that out loud.) But once your child makes the transition from diapers to no diapers, you realize that your baby has just taken one big step closer to growing up. This is what I’ve learned from having three children. The first child you are eager for them to reach each milestone. You say and think things like, “I can’t wait until….” and then fill in the blanks with “when he/she is crawling, walking, talking…” because it’s all new to you and you are excited and anxious to make sure they are reaching all their milestones at a normal pace. The second child, you naturally compare their milestone timeline to your first child. You say and think things like, “I wonder if he/she will <blank> at <months> like <first child>.” You can’t help but naturally compare to see if one child learns faster than the other, grows bigger or at a different rate than your first, or does things differently altogether. By the third child and maybe beyond, you realize how quickly it is going to pass and you just want to keep them little as long as you possibly can. You do not encourage them to crawl, or walk, or do anything any earlier than they are ready because you know that once they do, that’s one less day they are little and in your arms.
On the way home from church today, Chris and I were discussing in the car about how much deeper we are able to feel because of our children–they add so much to our lives we never could’ve anticipated. A different layer of feelings we didn’t know existed. Like the love a man can feel when a little blonde-haired girl comes running excitedly, screaming “Daddy!!” after he’s had a long day at work. And how he feels when she jumps in his arms and smothers him with hugs and kisses as soon as he walks through the door. Chris admitted that when we first got married, having children wasn’t something that was high on his priority list. Admittedly, it wasn’t that high on mine either. I mean, it was something I assumed would happen one day–but it wasn’t something I could envision.
We were dog lovers–big time–before we had children. I remember one time at work when I was sitting at a table with several other ladies talking about my Gracie. “How old is she?” A friend asked. “She’s 5…” I said. I’ll never forget the look on her face when she asked to see a picture of my daughter and I showed her a picture of my 5-year old dachshund. Our dogs slept in the bed with us each night. They went on vacations with us. We only flew on airlines and stayed in hotels where our two girls were allowed. We bought them the best organic dog food we could afford and took them weekly to the “doggie spa.” I couldn’t imagine–in fact, I even felt guilty at the possibility–loving our children more than we loved our dogs. And then our children were born. And our poor pups got booted out of our bed and don’t go on vacations with us anymore. (Don’t worry, we still love them and they still get the fancy dog food).
But now I find myself so completely obsessed with these little human beings that are half of me, half of my beloved, and I have to admit–although there are hard days as any parent can tell you–in the grand scheme of it all, there is only one negative to being a parent. Only one thing that’s even a blip on the radar compared to all the things I thought would be difficult before I had them.
You can’t protect them from everything…and the worry you feel can be overwhelming–and it will never go away, no matter how old you or they get.
When I see things like school shootings on the news, my first thought is, Yep! Definitely going to home-school. Or when I read about child abductions I think, Ok, we’re never leaving the house again. And yet I live in a neighborhood where teenagers fly up and down our street so I am constantly worried about my children running out in front of a car at our own home and getting hit…or running into the woods behind our house and getting lost and freezing to death…or climbing on something when I’m not looking and falling…or….do you see where this is going? The love you have for your children is overwhelming and the desire to protect them, even though you know you can’t protect them from everything, can be maddening. It can keep you up at night if you don’t finally come to a point where you give it over to the Lord and just trust. I know that not all parents feel this way to that level of crazy, but in my experience, most parents I’ve met have a desire to keep their children healthy and safe. And we do the very best we can.
I heard a quote this week by C.S. Lewis that summed up how I feel about parenting:
“We are not necessarily doubting that God will do the best for us; we are wondering how painful the best will turn out to be.”
I worry a lot as a mama. In this world that we’re currently living in, it feels like there is always something new for me to stress about. It’s something I daily have to surrender. My anxiety reached a peak shortly after my second child was born and over the years I have had to find various ways to get past it. One of those ways is through prayer. Chris and I pray over our children every night. Sometimes our prayers vary, but mine usually goes something like this…
Lord, I thank you for the blessing of this child…and I pray for your protection over them, that you will keep them healthy and safe. That you will watch over them each and every day, and keep a hedge of protection around them. I pray, most of all, Lord, for their salvation. That they will come to know you at an early age and spend their life serving you. Make them a man/woman after your own heart, Father…and give me wisdom every day to be the best parent I can be and point my children to you.
And then all I can do is trust. And pray some more.
That’s how it feels to be a parent.
New Jenneration 
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