Thankful, Not Guilty

"I'm about to collapse," I told him. "My body is just so tired!" My husband dutifully took our daughter from me and ordered me to bed. "Let me take her and you go sleep," he told me. I trudged back to the bedroom feeling relieved, but also feeling guilty. Wasn't it my job to take care of her? Am I a failure as a mother because I can't handle this stage of hers?

You see, the last couple of weeks, Leah has been draining my energy (in a good way, of course) and hasn't been going to bed before 11:30. Well, I'm ready to call it quits around 10:00, but she just doesn't want to go to sleep. So the past week or so, I've been leaving her with Mitch and he will put her to sleep later while I catch up on sleep earlier.

I felt a little guilty. The title of "full-time stay-at-home mom" was weighing heavily on my shoulders. I felt that if I showed any weakness or allowed myself to "indulge" in an extra hour of sleep (be it needed or not) that I wasn't doing my job. "He shouldn't have to care for her," I would say to myself. But he hasn't had work the last few weeks (over a month now, actually), and he stays up late anyways, so why not allow him to take care of her so I can catch up on sleep? He is completely capable of caring for her, and many times, he's quite efficient at getting her to sleep. Not only that, but he is just as worthy of spending time with her as I am. Allowing him to spend time with her before bed, and putting her to sleep, gives him a chance to bond with her and to actually be a dad, as opposed to the sidelines observer that he tends to become when I monopolize on her care.

Mitch did not have the luxury of learning to care for children at a young age. I became an aunt at ten, and cared for my nieces many times over the years. I volunteered in the church nursery, and I babysat for friends of the family. I have a great deal of experience when it comes to babies and kids, and mothering is very natural for me. Mitch, on the other hand, never had those experiences, and he is still getting used to the idea of being a dad and how to change a diaper, burp, soothe, and entertain the baby. He still frets when she fusses for no apparent reason (perfectly natural for a baby her age), or when she won't go to sleep right away when she's obviously tired (because babies can't self-soothe at this age, and can't figure out how to fall asleep).

It's adorable, really, and I'm glad he's so willing to care for her, even if he doesn't put the diaper on the way I like it--and even if he questions my parenting knowledge and abilities. And it's those times when I must humble myself and admit that even though this is how I learned to do it, there may be another way. Even when I know that I've been caring for children much longer than he has, and have even taken child development classes and the Red Cross babysitting course, and--and--

And I realize that the one thing they can't teach is how to really love your child. I love my nieces, but it's nowhere near the love I feel for my own daughter. And that love can teach you what no class can. The love my husband feels for our daughter is a better teacher than all the courses I've taken and the experience I've had. It has taught him to put another above himself, to calm himself when he sees that his own panic and stress affect her mood, and to allow himself to be taught by someone who knows just a little bit more about basic infant care (namely, me). There is no substitute for a parent's love. I can teach him how to give her a bath, but only he can love her like he does.

Those times when I hand her over so that I can have a break he sees as his opportunity to love her and to be her dad. Those times when even my own motherly love won't give me enough strength to last another hour waiting for her to go to sleep--when I am truly honest with myself and realize I can't always be a martyr and I do need to sleep in order to be a good mother--those are the times that he cherishes and he sees as his chance to be with her, play with her, comfort her, and love her.

I'm thankful for his love, and I refuse to feel guilty for allowing him to be her dad. Because I love her so dearly, I have to allow her to have a dad as well as a mom. I can't be the only parent, and she needs his love and care as much as she needs my own love and care. I could go on and on about this, but I won't. I will simply leave it at this: I am thankful for my husband, and the love he has for myself and our daughter. I am thankful.

The Waiting Game

So here I am, 39 weeks and 4 days pregnant. I am definitely looking forward to the birth of my daughter. Not only because I am looking forward to meeting her and holding her and all that good stuff, but also because, quite frankly, I'm a little tired of being pregnant. I'm sure there are other moms-to-be who feel the same, and that's why I'm not afraid to admit it. You see, about the middle of your third trimester, you're bigger than you've ever been, you have heartburn and swollen feet, and you're just close enough to your due date to think, "Ok, we're almost there!"

And then, once you hit 37 weeks, it's all downhill. You see, from then on, you can safely deliver, and the baby is considered full term. So at 37 weeks, you start telling your baby, "You can come any day now!" But then they don't listen to you (do children ever listen to you??) and you're sitting at home, bored to tears because you've already quit your job, unable to drive because they took away your driving privileges (all because you passed out while driving once...) and you're doing almost everything you can to get that stubborn child out of you already!

You're walking, taking herbs, doing squats, and praying so very hard for that child to come out. And when you feel a slight contraction, even though you don't want the pain, you still want it to be just hard enough for it to be considered a "real" contraction and not just one of those annoying Braxton Hicks.

So you wait... and wait... and wait... And you listen to everyone asking, "Have you had the baby yet?" And you dolefully answer them, no. Then there are those friends who have you all hyped up with their predictions. I had a whole group of people from church telling me that I would have her on September 16th. Well, it's 5:30pm on September 16th, and I've had only Braxton Hicks for the last week--no real contractions. It takes at least a few hours to get those started, and to have them regularly, and a few more hours to progress into active labor and finally have the child, so the chances of me having her tonight are slim to none. But there is still that anxious hope, wanting all my friends to be right, and wanting it to happen right... now. Ok, now. Now? Nope.

So while you're waiting, you have all these annoying pains in your hips, and pressure in your... ok, I'll leave that one alone. And you're trying to create symptoms and signs out of little things, hoping that it's the start of the real thing--but it's not.

Now, do you suppose that when Paul said in Galatians 4:19 that he labors in birth until Christ is formed in the Galatians, that perhaps he was speaking of the waiting time, as well? The whole process of labor includes not only the actual pushing and sweating and being in intense pain part, but also the waiting, the nesting, the eagerly trying to move it along, and the mild contractions that you think are doing nothing, but are really preparing you for the real contractions. It's a lot more than people realize, and I think that God gave Paul, an unmarried man who most likely never really understood the actuality of labor, a special understanding of the process. Even though most people think of labor as the most dramatic, painful part, it's also the waiting. And Paul was waiting for the Galatians to grow in Christ and to see Christ in them. I don't think it's a coincidence that he used those words, or that I thought of them when I was writing this. I hadn't planned on connecting this particular blog with any scripture, but I suppose that's what happens when I just write and allow the Spirit to move me in any direction He wants.

Ok, so we found that connection--what's the lesson? What do we learn from this? Well, I suppose we learn that even though our works may seem in vain, and though our ambitions and our hopes of leading people to Christ, or of doing a particular ministry--though they may seem to be going nowhere--sooner or later, it will happen. I know that no matter what, somehow, at some point, Leah HAS to come out! She can't stay in there forever! Just as new Christians can't stay in their baby stage forever. They can't stay in the warm, comfy, familiar womb of their discipler forever--they have to grow, and they have to move out. It's just the way God designed it. It's the same with ministry--you may not see any growth, but sooner or later, it has to come to fruition. If the Lord is in it, and the Lord has ordained it, then it will come to pass. So don't give up. It's a lot of waiting, but in the end, it will be worth it.

I can't wait for the day when I can hold my baby, and I can truly understand the meaning of this:

"A woman, when she is in labor, has sorrow because her hour has come; but as soon as she has given birth to the child, she no longer remembers the anguish, for joy that a human being has been born into the world." (John 16:21, NKJV)

But in the mean time, all I have to do is wait. Be patient and wait.