it isn't mother's day, but lately i've been contemplating what it means to be a mom, and reflecting on my own experiences. i'm approaching the "empty nest" phase of my life...which has definitely caused some new thought processes in this brain of mine.
i'm pretty sure i've wanted to be a parent since i was around 7 or 8 years old. i loved babies and toddlers. i remember how my sister and i used to fight over who got to hold our baby cousin. there was so much joy to see her face light up in recognition as she would reach her chubby baby arms out for me to hold her. knowing a baby wanted me to hold her made my heart sing.
because i didn't always have access to real babies, my dolls from my childhood are not so pretty anymore. i took them everywhere. i loved spending time in the woods, but my dolls usually had to go with me. i built teepees out of leafy branches, and i would mix up concoctions of berries and shredded leaves to keep my little family well fed as we survived the harsh climate of our wilderness home. when i was called to come back into the house, my scuffed and dirty dolls needed their baths, of course. i'm afraid these poor offspring of mine weren't created to hold up under my frequent shampoos and scrubbings. i still have my two favorite dolls tucked away, and their limbs are scuffed, and their hair is nearly gone. but oh, the adventures we had together. as i held these babies close, i dreamed of the day when i would hold my own babies...babies whose smile wasn't frozen in place. babies whose face lit up when they saw me...babies whose chubby little arms reached for me, and who would wrap those little arms tightly around my neck. but that day seemed so far away....
now, decades later...i look back on those days with fondness, but shake my head at my naïveté. don't get me wrong, having three children has been an incredible blessing. i will never forget the day...after 24 long, difficult hours of labor, they placed my little squirming daughter into my arms, and her little hand brushed across my face...i was filled with such total joy and satisfaction. this was the day i had longed for...my baby wasn't hard plastic, with damaged hair and missing eyelashes...this was my own sweet angel, with soft warm skin, and delicate wispy hair, and pretty blue eyes that soon recognized her mommy's face, and whose little arms reached for me, and wrapped around my neck. and i will never forget the same joy as my two sons were born over the next years. i remember the first time holding them...the first time i could see they knew who i was, and how they wanted their mommy.
but it was a bit more work than those dolls of mine. when i tucked those dolls into bed, they stayed there smiling, eyes closed, until i picked them up again. and they didn't get sick...they were scuffed and worn, but they didn't get fevers. they didn't spend a terrifying and sleepless week in the hospital with a viral infection. they didn't fall and get bumps and bruises...or get rushed to the hospital for X-rays and stitches. they didn't have tears streaming down their faces as i cleaned wounded knees and elbows. they didn't grow up, and take that first heart wrenching step onto the big yellow bus. they didn't experience broken hearts when they first felt rejected by a friend.
but they also didn't giggle and dance and hug my neck. their eyes didn't light up at the Christmas lights. they didn't have little cherub voices that asked questions and said " i love you, mommy" on days when they had no idea how much this mommy needed those words. they didn't grow up to become talented, loving and serving adults (and nearly adults) who have made the world a better place...and are shining their own lights in a dark world ...like my 3 babies have. i was always meant to be a mommy. and i have found no satisfaction like being a wife and mother to the amazing family God has allowed me to enjoy.
but when the scuffed knees turn into scuffed hearts...when the illnesses become adult sized. when there is man-sized pain, and adult broken hearts, and first steps into their own car, or into their first apartment... when i watch my adult child face real battles...when i know sometimes i need to just step back and let it happen...and try to figure out when to get involved...when the storm in their lives becomes way too intense and real...then i wonder if i was ever really strong enough to be a mom. these three living "dolls" that God has entrusted us with... aren't plastic. we can't just tuck them into bed and they will remain unchanged, with hard plastic smiles. these are three amazing individuals, with numerous abilities, and talents and dreams...and their own futures to face. my mommy heart beats faster and harder at the thought.
i think what frightens me most is the realization of all the things i should have said or done, of all the things i shouldn't have said or done...that caused damage or inhibited growth...or sent them down a wrong path...even if just for a minute. i sometimes wish i could start over...and be the mommy they really needed...not the flawed mommy they got. my dolls were pretty worn out by the time i finally quit playing with them. but i pray that God will heal any scuffs and scars i caused in my living, breathing dolls. i pray He strengthens them and guides them as they take those steps into their own futures...and down those paths where things will trip them up and scuff their knees, and break their hearts, and make them ask the big questions. i pray that they will know that they are loved, and will be a blessing to everyone they encounter...in spite of the bad example their mama displayed at times. and i am beyond grateful for a husband who can be there with me to counter my mistakes, and walk with me through this journey of parenting. i realize not everyone has a close partner like i have, and i'm grateful for the undeserved blessing.
i was naive as i dreamt of being a mommy. but i know i was born to be one. as i watch my three beautiful babies grow into beautiful adults...through every scuffed knee, through every challenge faced, through the dark times and late night tears and fears...i realize that they aren't really mine. they belong to their Heavenly Father, who loves them with a perfect love...and has perfect plans for each of them.
