Becoming a Mom
When Collin and I found out we were pregnant, we couldn’t have been more surprised. Sure, we had been open to children, but had not conceived for over a year. I still remember the frigid December afternoon when the two little lines popped up in front of me, clear as day. Without realizing it I leapt up off the toilet seat and shrieked for Collin to come. Was I seeing things? He peered at the little stick. We both knew I wasn’t.
We could have never imagined how much our lives were about to change. Sure, I had considered what it might be like to run on zero sleep, to live with clutter everywhere, to take on a barrage of poopy diapers. These circumstantial changes weren’t hard to envision. What has been most challenging are the internal changes I have experienced amidst recovery from an 18 hour labor, surging hormones, and having many long hours alone with Graham.
I have been gripped by two realities: grief and expectancy. In order to inhabit both fully, I’ve had to be stretched. Sometimes this sensation of expanding feels almost physical, not just mental. The question seems to be “am I happy or sad to be a Mom?” And my answer seems to be “both!” I feel grief, and I feel expectancy.
Grief. There are days that I ache for life prior to Graham. I miss choices about my time. I miss sailing down the Smith Bridge in my black Nissan, post Malone pulsing through the tinny speakers. I miss long showers. I miss early morning walks and runs. I miss impulsivity. I miss my friends.
I also grieve what I thought motherhood would be like. I knew it would be hard, but I didn’t expect to feel so disconnected from my son. I’ve often read about women who felt an immediate sense of purpose, focus, and calling in becoming a Mom. This hasn’t been true for me at all. Graham has struggled to eat. He has silent reflux, which typically means that peaceful nursing sessions unravel into screams, coughs, sweat, and a deep sense of failure. I’ve often looked down at him in dismay and thought “there’s no way this is my son.” Add a tongue tie into this scenario and you can bet that some days have felt flat-out unbearable. I’ve grieved the fact that nursing - which is supposed to bond me to my son - instead causes him pain and makes me feel distant from him. Only in recent weeks have things seemed to improve, but the ups and downs have been beyond exhausting.
Expectancy. I am now a Mom! I want to embrace all that motherhood brings with it, despite its unique challenges. I hope for what is to come. Motherhood requires a deeper level of selflessness immediately - there is no on-ramp, no time to bolster yourself. Baby needs you now, and that is just how it is, so I want to throw my arms wide open and say “bring it on, Graham!” I am open not only to the external changes, but internal transformation as well.
John 15 has helped me reconcile the grief and expectancy I’ve felt so deeply. It has also helped ground me in the reality that God is intimately present with me, on good days and bad days, through tears and in moments of joy.
“I am the true vine, and my Father is the gardener. He cuts off every branch in me that bears no fruit, while every branch that does bear fruit he prunes so that it will be even more fruitful. Remain in me, as I also remain in you. No branch can bear fruit by itself; it must remain in the vine. Neither can you bear fruit unless you remain in me.”
I have lost a season of life that I can’t ever get back. And yet, I think this loss has been necessary in order to be the Mom that Graham needs. Running will always be there. Faithful friends will be there. It’s all still there, and I look forward to re-inhabiting these past joys again with fresh perspective. They’re just not as important as what’s in front of me today.
Somehow, in the absence of my prior freedom and choices, I’ve experienced an outpouring of love from within for my boy. I hope that this love blesses and shapes Graham in the exact ways he needs.
