Meditations on Motherhood

What have I done?

That question shouted at me as I looked down at my infant son. And despair nearly gripped my heart. Now, it wasn't post partum depression, though I think I had a mild bout of that initially, too. No, it was a tidal wave of emotion that nearly knocked me over.

As I gazed at my son, inspecting every piece of him, from his exquisite eye lashes, to his perfect mouth, delicious checks and breathtaking toes, I felt such overwhelming love I didn't know how to deal with it. And right on the heels of that, intense vulnerability - like my heart was on a platter. The love was scary and helpless. What if something happened to him? What if he got really sick, or someone hurt him? What if he died?? I couldn't handle those thoughts. It's not like I got super morbid and meditated on losing my son all the time. It's just that the reality hit me that there were no guarantees and that I loved him so much I felt that my heart might be torn asunder if I lost him.

Life magazine pictures of starving babies and sad babies zoomed past my mind. And I suddenly remembered movies about sons who died in battle or amidst street violence. I thought of Hannah giving up Samuel when he was but three years old, and of course I thought of God himself, giving up HIS only begotten son to die such a terrible death. The scene of Mary, in Mel Gibson's movie, The Passion, loving her son while he was being crucified became larger than life, and tears welled up as I remembered the part when little boy Jesus fell and Mary rushed to console him. I LOVE MY SON! And that is both wonderful and terrifying at the same time.

Less morbid I envisioned him sleeping in his own room, yes, with a monitor, but nevertheless away from my instant response. I saw him at a friend's house, riding in someone else's car, going to school, climbing, riding a bike - driving. And, Oh God, going off to college. I couldn't go there. Stages of independence and they made me cry, too.

On a happy note, I also saw him making the winning goal, mastering the piano piece, bringing home the “A,” graciously receiving his diploma and looking handsome and strong on his wedding day. Yet more tears.

I experienced this vulnerability when I married my husband, too. I had waited a long time for the right man, and here he was, handsome and intelligent and perfect for me in every way. Instantly movies where husbands died were out of the question. I fought fear the first time he flew away on a business trip without me. Lord, bring him back to me safe. And I hope, like every woman who is in love, that we will die together and remain married in heaven.

With my son, it is similar feelings of love, plus the reality of his utter dependence on ME. His vulnerability, his fragility, his inability to tell me what hurts and why he's sad. Those realities create yet another layer of heart wrenching emotions.

With love comes pain. Is it worth it?

Yes. I wouldn't trade it. Silly me.

On another day, I asked myself the same question: What have I done?

This time I wondered why I chose such constant inconvenience - as I died to self every day.

When I put him down for a nap, excitedly planning what I was going to do for the two hours he would surely sleep. Ahhh, he's OUT, dead weight in my arms. This is going to be a good nap. I'm going to do laundry and bake and return that phone call and work on my sermon and finish that article and take a nap and, and, and ….Wait; HE'S AWAKE! But that was only 15 MINUTES! I'm tired. I can't deal. I have to deal. I have no choice. Dad's at work; there's no way out.

And then there was that intimate moment that very night, interrupted by the unexpected cry. The laundry that has grown exponentially, the clothes that don't fit anymore (I want to strangle the dear friend who assured me that that pounds would just melt away because I was breast feeding. I envisioned losing a pound every time I bared my breast. NOT!). And just how does one run in and out of the store with an infant in a car seat? Nothing's easy anymore.

And how will I do juggling an infant AND a toddler. Wow. I can't go there. I have grace only for the moment.

With love comes death - to self. Is it worth it?

Yes. I wouldn't trade it. Silly me.