We carry the weight of a child for nine months - nauseous and cranky and swollen, peeing every five minutes - and then we bring a being into the world. It's truly amazing, to think that two people can do that: make that little dot that becomes a person.
And then when he becomes five and seven and nine months old, we carry them around like a 15lb knapsack on our hip. Suddenly the pickle jar seems easy to open, compared.
And we have to watch him cry after we say no, and learn to love him all the while. Strength.
It makes me more confident. Some people (I won't name names, but she is the writer of this blog) still lack a good amount of this. No matter what we did in the past to self-help it, it couldn't be found.
Now that I'm a mother, I see the world differently. The sense of protection over my heart has enlarged with another human being under its wing. I'm learning that life around me is meaningless as long as he's alright. Because he needs me. And that's enough to build the confidence I must have in this role.
It makes me more aware. Aware of throw-up I have stepped in and my bra hanging out in public from Levi pulling my shirt down. And ladies' earlobes being stretched to their shoulders by pulled earrings from little hands.
I always wondered about this part of motherhood - if I would know when enough was enough by him unto others. Or how I would know when to tell him to stop pulling leaves off people's plants. I think I'm learning.
It makes me aware of other people.
It makes me slow down. Isaac always tells me I'm doing things at 100 miles an hour, warp speed, etc. And he's right. I can literally feel myself rushing through things...
"he needs to hurry up and eat his bottle or he will be off schedule,"
"I need to get him to sleep so hurry up and bounce him all over creation to make him dreary (meanwhile he throws up),"
"I NEED to get him this $5 pool I saw at Wal-mart - we have to go NOW,"
"I have to wash his bottles because none of them are clean but he's crying so hurry up and wash one (and then 10 of them - the small ones I don't need - all fall on the floor because I'm rummaging through the cupboard to see if there's one in the back I missed."
SLOW DOWN. Lighter is the key and gentler should be the mother's touch. And a GRANDMOTHER'S touch is even gentler.
Peeing alone is a vacation. Enough said.
