A few weeks ago while I was at the gym I bumped into an old acquaintance. We exchanged small talk including the addition of my youngest, the long hours I'd been putting in at work and the struggle to find balance in it all.
"Do you love being a Mom?" he asked, completely catching me off guard.
For a brief moment I thought about the morning I had with my kids. Baby babbles and toddler giggles woke me up before my alarm clock had the chance to. As soon as my eyes opened I smiled, knowing I would be greeted with smiles and hugs from my favorite little people. I rolled out of bed and headed to their bedrooms. "Mama!" my toddler exclaimed with excitement. A big gummy smile from my baby and cheeks with the most perfect dimples made my heart flutter. I squeezed them both tight, smelling the tops of their heads--which somehow always seem to be the perfect combination of innocence, warmth and love. I got them both dressed, fed, and off to daycare with minimal tantrums. It had been a good morning.
I smiled. "I love it", I said, as if without any hesitation or thought.
"It takes a really special person to do what you're doing" he responded.
We exchanged smiles once more before we parted ways.
While finishing up my workout I couldn't stop thinking about our conversation. Why had he specifically asked me if I loved being a Mom? If my morning had gone differently, would I have responded in the same way? What if my baby had been up all night, every hour on the hour, crying from teeth trying to push through his gums? Or my toddler woke up several times through the night coughing so hard she threw up and I had to change her bed sheets three times within three hours? And what if I had only been able to get a few hours of sleep before having to work a 16 hour day? All of it had happened earlier that week.
Over the last few weeks I've given a lot of thought to the conversation and why it's stuck with me so much.
At first I was offended by the fact that someone had asked me if I loved being a mom. I mean what kind of a question is that!? I'll tell you what kind of a question it is. It is a question only a man would ask.
A mom would never ask another mom if she loved being a mom. You know why? Because there's this unspeakable bond between mothers. A bond that is rooted in an understanding. An understanding that being a mom isn't always easy. An understanding that being a mom means putting everyone elses' needs before your own. An understanding that even if you wake up feeling like you don't want to be a mom, that you're still a mom. You will always be a mom and you will forever have people who are counting on you to be there for them. There is this understanding between moms that although every day is not a good day, we will forever strive to provide the best for our kids. We would go to any height, any depth and any length to ensure their utmost happiness. We would die for them. On their best days, and on their worst.
And what did he mean by "it takes a special kind of person?" I think what he really must have meant by special was crazy.
The truth is, it doesn't take a special person to parent. But it does take a special God.
A week ago I was home with my kids and they were both driving me crazy. They were itching to get outside and although it was cold and windy I decided to bundle them up in hats and coats and gloves and take a stroll--because I needed some fresh air just as much, if not more, than they did. I was angry because it felt like this streak of cold, wet, and miserable weather was never going to end. I'd been stuck inside all winter with the kids and I no longer had to pull my hair out because it was literally falling out in chunks on its own.
While fighting to push the double stroller against the wind I whispered, "God please help me be a better mom today. Help me have more patience. Help me love them like you love them. And God pleaseeeeee just give me some sunshine."
Within a few moments the clouds parted and the sun kissed my cheeks. I closed my eyes and smiled. I could feel the warmth encompass my soul. I let out a sigh of relief and with it I whispered, "thank you Jesus." As quickly as the sun broke through the grey haze it disappeared just the same. Suddenly I heard a little voice, who'd been screaming off and on all morning because I didn't let her have a popsicle for breakfast, whisper "thank you Jesus."
Tears came rolling down my cheeks and I told my little (big) girl how much I loved her. "Do you know Jesus loves you?" I asked. "ugh huh" she replied confidently as if the news wasn't any surprise to her whatsoever.
There are many many days I go to bed at night disappointed in myself. Disappointed in the way I lost my temper with one of my kids. Disappointed in the way I was quick to judge someone. Disappointed that I didn't have a better attitude about a certain situation. But I'm human. And that's far from special.
Special people don't exist, but thank God grace does.
Your grace is enough,
Your grace is enough,
Your grace is enough for me.
