My Baby is Seven (Motherhood Reflections)
7 years ago. 38 weeks pregnant, I kissed my husband goodbye for the day. Traveling a short distance for work, we agreed labor was not imminent. I slowly folded laundry, did some yoga stretches, packed my bags, and happily blasted Les Mis as I drove twenty miles to my nursing grad class. These back cramps must be from my morning stretches, I ignorantly thought. Continued discomfort through the lecture, when finally, my fellow nurses questioned, “Alex, are you in labor?” “Oh no, I’m just having that back sciatica pain.” Again ignorantly, I paced in the back of the class through what I didn’t realize (or didn’t want to accept) were contractions. “I can’t call my husband right now, it’s just back pain, he’s in the middle of an important filming!” “Alex, you are in labor!” No, not today. Sixty minutes later, lying on the delivery bed, “Well, looks like this baby is ready, you are completely dilated! If we break your water now, you will deliver within the hour!” “What? No! I’m so sorry doctor, I cannot give birth right now without my husband, he is still two hours away and we agreed he cannot miss this!” Laughable ignorance, Alex. Drug free with the painful contractions increasing, they put Nick on speaker phone, “Sir, your wife is ready for labor. We will be breaking her water.” Beep, beep, honking from the speaker phone, “Sir, please do not speed! There is nothing you can do right now, just drive here safely!” “Nick, I can’t do this without you here, what is happening!?” “Can someone call a priest?” TBA in another post, but spoiler alert, Nick made it there in time and within a few hours we were holding our firstborn son. I think about how my early ignorance of labor symbolizes the ignorance within the motherhood journey. None of us know what we are getting into, and with every new stage and every new year, a new ignorance arises.
7 years later. He arose at the regular early hour of 630am, poured his cereal, packed his dish, and (mostly) shared the new lego set with his two younger brothers. During our reciprocal bear hug, I sense his little manhood arising. I am so proud of our little man. Wait, will my little boy will soon be a man? Maybe there is my new ignorance. The brief moments amidst the noise, where we glimpse the miracle of raising our children. My first baby turned seven? Pause, please! Oh, this unique journey of motherhood! Too many unknowns, without the answers! Are we to know ahead of time all the ways they will amaze us, annoy us, surprise us and inspire us? Absolutely, not. How do we prepare? Tell me what to do and we’ll do it! We shout. But, the playbook pages are blank. The ignorance of the future is the hidden blessing. How does she do it? How should I do it? We ask. Yet, those are really the wrong questions. Embracing our humanity means accepting the humility of ignorance in the journey’s outcome. We don’t know what will happen with our children, and spoiler alert, we cannot control it. (on the positive side, this will make for the best stories to tell!)
Reflecting on all the stories and reflections from my seven years, this positive inner dialogue shines as my most valuable tool to share. Not a playbook or specific directions, but inner truths we are all given and can apply to the ignorance of every new stage and every new child. The grace, not always the answers, to mother our children will always be there. Here are the truths to repeat:
“Trust yourself.”
“You DO know the best thing for your baby/toddler/teen.”
“Despite the insecurities and decision fatigue you will face, God will give you the grace of clarity in understanding your own unique child.”
“You didn’t mess him up, you didn’t fail him. Your love matters most.”
“You are the best mom for him and he needs you.”
“Putting on your mask first (in whatever practical way that looks like) ensures you have the oxygen to keep on giving to him.”
In the words of Saint Joan of Arc, in whatever story you are given,“You were born to do this!
In the mundane details of these days, as we face new or scary unknowns, repeat this dialogue. When they are sleeping, scroll through their pictures and videos of memory lane. Reflect on your motherhood, the funny lessons you have learned so far, and the stories like mine that you can tell. With every new birthday, with every new stage, as defeated as we may ever feel, our motherhood will not lose! We will reclaim and remember the message of our dear Mother Teresa, “Your job as a mother is the most important job in the whole world!” In this job, whatever we don’t know, we will be given the grace to figure out. We are qualified because He has called us and accepted us to this position. The ignorance of the future may be bliss. We have the grace for our children today, and however we are doing it, He is with us! Here’s to all of our past and future lessons (& stories!) we have yet to learn and live on this crazy beautiful motherhood journey!
