A young mother's thoughts on young motherhood (so far)

It is strange to think that I have only been a mother for seven and a half weeks.  In that time my life has changed more radically than ever before- even more than when I first got married.  Right now it's gloomy outside and actually chilly in our usually-stifling third-floor apartment, and I'm hunkered down in PJ's and a sweatshirt, steaming mug of coffee next to the computer screen, Katara sleeping in her bear chair beside me.  It makes me happy to think of her so warm and peaceful under two layers of blankets, dreaming away this almost-fall morning.

In a sense, being a mom is a lot easier than I thought it would be.  Over the long months of pregnancy, I wasted so much stress over the coming change in our lives.  I thought my youth was coming to an end and with it everything that looked or smelled of fun.  I thought our marriage would be pushed to the side for 25+ years while child rearing took it's needful place.  I thought I wouldn't have the physical strength needed to carry a baby around all day long and get up with her at night, too.  I dreaded the loss of my free time and hobbies. Most of all I worried I wouldn't love my baby as I should or that I wouldn't like being a mother.

Of course that last one was ridiculous- from the minute I laid eyes on Katara I was pretty sure of three things: we were going to name her Katara, she had an incredible will to thrive, and I was going to love her until the day I died.  

Many of my other fears have more or less come to pass, but they are all overwhelmingly made up for by the abundant love God miraculously instils in the heart of a mother for her helpless, squirming, red-faced little human.

But in another sense, this is also a lot harder than I thought it would be. Watching other mothers, I used to promise myself that I wouldn't be the type to let the laundry go un-folded or to push off a shower until three in the afternoon.  Well, the average time it takes me to fold one basket of laundry is now about three and a half days. And I consider myself blessed if I'm showered by dinner time. It's hard for me to even admit these things- I've prided myself on being a conscientious housekeeper and, I thought, a great multi-tasker.  I guess God knew I needed to be taken down a few notches. Not having time for these basic household tasks is beyond stressful to me- it takes a daily surrendering of my will to His, and I'm not at all good at it.

Even while I'm constantly scrambling to stay on top of things and usually wind up exhausted at the end of each day, I'm also struggling to accept the monotony of this lifestyle.  My hours are spent in a never ending three-hour cycle of feeding, entertaining, and soothing the baby, then scrambling to get stuff done while she dozes.  At times I feel so cooped up I could scream, but when I think about packing her up and getting out I can't bear the thought of leaving so many things un-done at home.  This tension between the desire to get things done and the desire to get out of the house is the name of the motherhood game, and probably something I will continue to wrestle with for the rest of my child raising years.

Perhaps hardest of all is the realization that my dreams of being a stay at home mom and writing full length novels at the same time are completely unrealistic. This is the burr that keeps burrowing deeper into my flesh these days, the one reality that I can't completely accept. All those hours of practice when I was younger, all the money poured into education- and now, to have it come to nothing... to BE nothing but a wife and mother... am I okay with this?  No. Not yet.  But I'll get there.

Don't get me wrong- it's not that I don't love being with my baby and meeting her most basic needs. When I'm at my wits end it takes only a few minutes of scrutiny from her curious brown eyes or one of her giant, dimpled smiles to make it all worthwhile.  I'm realizing she is the type of person who likes to go all the time, who doesn't let grass grow under her feet.  She's curious and brave and persistent, and loves people like her daddy. This is not the type of baby to cuddle up on my chest for a movie or lay cooing in her crib for hours on end, but I would not trade her vivacious personality for a million peaceful hours to clean toilets, write blog posts, or even see the world.  She is my world now, she and her daddy and everything that goes on between the four walls of our home.

And I know I have so much to look forward to.  Lord willing there will be other babies, each with their own little faces and personalities, bringing something to this family entirely and delightfully outside of our control. Eventually the dynamic schedule of school, sports, music and social activities will take the place of the three-hour sleep-eat-and-cry routine.  There will be family movie nights and road trips and moments of true triumph and joy for every child, just as there will be struggles beyond anything I could handle now, I'm sure.  For the time being I will just try to cherish every fleeting moment of Katara's life, accepting the little trials that come with it as necessary means of sanctification and of receiving the joy that comes with this calling. 

And I will be thankful for little moments like these, when I somehow manage to write an ENTIRE blog post before the baby wakes up- even if there are dishes in the sink and piles of laundry to be folded!  :-)