Motherhood

It is one week away from Mother's Day, and being a mother now for 16 years, I realize it was not exactly what I was expecting .  I'm not sure I really thought it through, though, to tell you the truth.  I just knew I really wanted a baby.

 I passed the gym on my way home from a late night class and I saw toddlers walking hand in hand with their Moms and I wanted that.  I wanted little hands in mine, chubby legs and bloated tummies in shiny leotards, fine hair pulled back into two lopsided piggy tails.  Maybe I wanted a manifestation of the love between my husband and I.  Maybe having married a wonderful man who now knew all my faults and loved me fiercely anyway, maybe having realized this new level of loving, I was ready for something even more.  Or maybe it had nothing to do with him.  Maybe having reached a level of acceptance that I was just ordinary, that I was not going to be the youngest acclaimed novelist, or that I was not going to study primitive life in the jungles of Belieze, I was ready to pass those dreams on to a fresh, new life.

  To tell you the truth, I am not sure I analyzed this need, this desire, this obsession I had.  I only knew I wanted a baby, wanted it more than anything else.  It came upon me like a fever; one day I was happy with our busy, humble student married life.  The next I was consumed with wanting a child.  It ached when I thought of it.  Every month, I hoped with giddy anticipation this would be the month....each month I dropped into despair when it didn't happen.

Ten months later, when the negative finally turned positive, I was awash with relief and excitement.  That quickly turned into the fear of the unknown: what have I done? What have I sacrificed?  Our lives would never be the same.  And it wasn't.  Each child changed our life, filling it with challenges, inspiration, and love.  Though even holding the fourth one in the hospital bed, surrounded by his eager brothers and sister, I couldn't have told you what I thought our family's life would be.  Maybe I am not a planner.  Maybe after having 3 kids in as many years I had no time to envision a future; the here and now seemed obstacle enough to go through.  Or maybe I knew that with others lives, it is dangerous to think you can do anything other than patiently guide them.  Probably, I was just too scared to imagine what trials and tribulations were ahead, scared that I wouldn't know what to do or how to handle it.  So I just didn't think about it.

I've heard it said that Heavenly Father gives you the children you can handle, and thank goodness he knows I can't handle much ( knock on wood).  I assumed that my kids would be a product of me, that what I did or didn't do would make or break them.  Instead, I often find they mess up despite my help, or more often, grow and progress despite my faults.  It is me learning from them more often, and those lessons, far from being humiliating, are the sweetest lessons I've  ever learned.

In the past two months, Tritan has urged me to pray instead of freaking out when the car's gas guide read 0 miles left.  Athena reminded me that our souls are worth more than two limes when the grocer forgot to ring them up.  Reading through Paris's texts, I stumbled across him very coolly urging his friend to choose the right.  At our favorite restaurant, ready to dig into a juicy hamburger after 2 days of starving on Trek, Apollo stopped everyone to say a blessing on the food.

I am constantly amazed and humbled at the strength, power, and spirituality of these four little angels.  Perhaps that great desire I had to have children came from a God who knew I would need these teachers and leaders in my life.  All I know is they make each day an adventure, and make my life better in every sense of the word.