Just when you thought you had it figured out, you realize that you don't.
I'm talking about life in general, but more specifically about babies.
Just when you figured out how to get him taking naps during the day and sleeping through the night, he gets sick. You regress. You start over. You figure it out all over again, because now his needs have changed. And then he starts cutting teeth.
Just when you thought you had all your laundry done, and there's nothing more that needs cleaning, he spits up on your bed sheets. Then he pees through his outfit onto yours.
A baby's needs are always changing. He's always going through a new stage, learning a new skill. And he's always making a mess. But you love him because he's yours.
I wonder if that's how God feels about us.
Except for the part where He thinks the cleaning is done. He knows better.
Our mess is never ending. But so is His love.
"...I love you with an everlasting love..." -Jeremiah 31:3
Friday, April 7, 2017
Friday, February 10, 2017
Many ways to mother
I've always been a person of strong convictions. Still am, but motherhood has taught me an important lesson: Just because it works for me, doesn't mean it will work for everyone. There are certain values that I think apply to all people. For example, value for human life. But so many other values that I thought were black and white really have so many shades of gray...
I was certain, after much reading and preparation, that I would never get an epidural. But, 20 hours into labor, and a couple of hours into one unbearable contraction on top of another, with no rest between and no progress in the dilation of my cervix, I let that conviction go. The epidural allowed me the rest I needed to get ready to push my baby out and relaxed my body enough that my cervix finished dilating within a couple of hours. What I really appreciated about my doctor was that she didn't pressure me to get an epidural, just explained to me my options and let me decide.
I was also certain that I would never leave my baby to cry. But, a month into napless misery and nighttime dread, when my son was five months old, I wholeheartedly embraced the concept that some crying was going to be necessary for my son's sleep, my sanity, and my marriage. I learned from a document about sleep training, and from watching my son cry, that crying is actually how babies process and is not always a sign of distress. I also realized a five month old can want something that is not beneficial for him, and not responding to his cry can be like telling a five year old that he can't have ice cream for dinner. After much trial and error, I finally have a six month old that is (mostly) well rested and happy (we're still working on it), an improved relationship with him, and a much more pleasant way to spend my days (and nights). What I appreciated about one mommy friend was that she gave me two resources, one describing a "no tears" approach to sleep training, the other outlining an approach that involved some tears, told me that the latter was what worked for her, but let me decide what would be best for me.
As a mother, I've found it helpful and encouraging to hear other mothers' experiences. But sometimes their stories have led me in the wrong direction. I've had to learn that just because it worked for another mother, doesn't mean it will work for me. And just because it worked for my baby a month ago, doesn't mean it will work today. And one day, when I have another one, I'm sure I'll have to re-learn a lot about parenting, because every baby is different.
How this learning has translated into the way I relate to others is that, when trying to encourage someone or give them advice, about mothering or anything under the sun, I try to remember to specify, "What works for me," or, "In my experience..." realizing that, just because something was true for me, doesn't mean it applies to everyone in all situations.
I was certain, after much reading and preparation, that I would never get an epidural. But, 20 hours into labor, and a couple of hours into one unbearable contraction on top of another, with no rest between and no progress in the dilation of my cervix, I let that conviction go. The epidural allowed me the rest I needed to get ready to push my baby out and relaxed my body enough that my cervix finished dilating within a couple of hours. What I really appreciated about my doctor was that she didn't pressure me to get an epidural, just explained to me my options and let me decide.
I was also certain that I would never leave my baby to cry. But, a month into napless misery and nighttime dread, when my son was five months old, I wholeheartedly embraced the concept that some crying was going to be necessary for my son's sleep, my sanity, and my marriage. I learned from a document about sleep training, and from watching my son cry, that crying is actually how babies process and is not always a sign of distress. I also realized a five month old can want something that is not beneficial for him, and not responding to his cry can be like telling a five year old that he can't have ice cream for dinner. After much trial and error, I finally have a six month old that is (mostly) well rested and happy (we're still working on it), an improved relationship with him, and a much more pleasant way to spend my days (and nights). What I appreciated about one mommy friend was that she gave me two resources, one describing a "no tears" approach to sleep training, the other outlining an approach that involved some tears, told me that the latter was what worked for her, but let me decide what would be best for me.
As a mother, I've found it helpful and encouraging to hear other mothers' experiences. But sometimes their stories have led me in the wrong direction. I've had to learn that just because it worked for another mother, doesn't mean it will work for me. And just because it worked for my baby a month ago, doesn't mean it will work today. And one day, when I have another one, I'm sure I'll have to re-learn a lot about parenting, because every baby is different.
How this learning has translated into the way I relate to others is that, when trying to encourage someone or give them advice, about mothering or anything under the sun, I try to remember to specify, "What works for me," or, "In my experience..." realizing that, just because something was true for me, doesn't mean it applies to everyone in all situations.
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