Thoughtful Tuesdays

Blake will be two months old next week, and as I sit here writing this, he is sleeping in his crib. I’m listening to his sweet little sleep sounds on the monitor and thinking about how right this feels.  How normal.  How perfect.  Being Blake’s mom is the greatest honor I’ve ever had in my life, and I am in love with this little boy in a way I didn’t know was possible.  I still can’t believe that I’m someone’s mommy.  It’s an unfathomable gift. 

But I’m going to be really honest; I haven’t spent all of the past seven weeks feeling that way. 

I’ve been putting off writing this post because it’s uncomfortable, and yet, I knew from the beginning it was one I needed to write.  It’s part of my story, and because I believe that God is the author of this journey, I am choosing to step forward in faith and trust in the transparency that I believe God has called me to.  And so here we go.

When we brought Blake home from the hospital, and probably for the first two weeks of his life, a lot of the time I found myself thinking: what have we gotten ourselves into. 

I cried all the time.  For no reason. 

I was terrified to be left alone with Blake, for any amount of time.

I was incredibly clingy.  To my husband.  To my mom. 

I felt guilty for feeling the way I did.  I had prayed so hard for this baby, and God had gifted us a beautiful baby boy, and yet…I didn’t feel happy.  I didn’t feel fulfilled.  I didn’t feel like I loved him as much as I should.   There were times I wished I could just walk away.  Put things back to the way they were before Blake came into our lives.

Is it as shocking for you to read that as it was for me to feel it? 

I didn’t know what to do.  I had certainly not expected to feel that way, and I certainly didn’t want to feel that way.  I had felt like I knew Blake so intimately while he was in the womb, and yet, here was this baby in my arms that felt like a total stranger.  I didn’t feel bonded to him.  I didn’t know him. 

I was so sure that God was angry with me, that He must be looking down on me and seeing an ungrateful woman who had just been given the greatest desire of her heart and yet didn’t have the grace to rejoice in it.  I felt like I was letting down my God.  I felt like hiding, and I just didn’t feel like me.  I spent many nights crying, feeling absolutely alone and scared. 

Looking back now, it’s hard to even relate to those feelings I was having.  I had so much support, and yet I just couldn’t see it.  My husband was incredible.  He was supportive in ways that I never would have expected, and reaffirmed for me time and time again that his love was intentional and unequivocal.  He loved me for me.  He understood.  He never judged.  He listened and held me.  He loved me and just wanted me to be okay.

My parents were also beyond amazing.  For the first three weeks of Blake’s life, we went to their house every night for dinner.  They would spend time with Blake, letting us take a nap, or even go on a few mini dates to give us some time to ourselves.  They never judged.  They listened.  My mom assured me I was normal.  She held me and told me what a great mom I was, that she could see it even if I couldn’t, and that someday soon these feelings would go away and I would be able to enjoy this new life we had been given as a family of three.

I clung to those words, but they just weren’t enough.  I still felt empty, and scared, and alone.  It wasn’t until a few days later, while I was sitting on my bed crying while Blake screamed in Adam’s arms in the living room, that something my mom said to me finally hit home.

She told me to let Him lead. 

She reminded me of the relationship I already had with my Savior. 

And for some reason, just that simple reminder changed everything.

I got down on my knees and put my face on the floor.  With tears streaming down my cheeks, I begged God to lead me.  To mold me into the woman He would have me be in order to raise this little boy He had given us.  I prayed for His peace, for His mercy, and for Him to fill me with the joy that comes from being somebody’s mom.  I so desperately wanted to feel that joy. 

I stayed that way for quite some time, being still and leaning in to hear His voice.  And it was in those moments of stillness that I felt His perfect peace.  I felt the intimacy of the relationship that I have with my Savior.  I felt His love pour over me, and I felt the reassurance that He loved me.  That I was His child, His precious little girl, and His love for me was absolute and unwavering.  I didn’t have to feel alone.  I didn’t have to feel scared.  He had given me the gift of Blake, and He would equip me with everything I needed to be the mother He had made me to be.  I knew in that moment that God had intended Blake for me, and maybe even more powerfully, that He had intended me for Blake, since the beginning of time.  Our lives were entwined in God’s master plan, and I could never be the woman God intended me to be without Blake..  Suddenly, I felt like I knew him a little bit more.

For me, that night was a turning point.  There were still moments and days that I would struggle, but the struggles were different because my attitude had changed.   I wasn’t trying to just survive, instead, I was leaning in, I was letting God lead and I was finding absolute joy in the new role He had given me as Blake’s mommy.    

Today, I look back and know that a lot of what I was feeling was Post-Partum Blues (not to be confused with Post-Partum Depression), which is caused by a hormone dump that occurs after delivery.   I had an especially tough delivery (which I’ll share should I ever get the birth story written) and had a lot of recovering of my own to do in those first few weeks. I was struggling to cope with all the changes all on my own. I wanted to control everything around me. 

I know, after the past two years, I really should know better.  Clearly, I’m still learning to surrender.

So why am I sharing?

Because I wanted to document the grace.  I’m so imperfect, my heart so human, and my walk so tenuously tied to the things of this earth.  How easily I forget.  How easily I stumble.  It reminds me of a DC Talk Song: will the love continue, when my walk becomes a crawl?

I think that’s a question we all ask ourselves.  It’s easy to beat ourselves up for stumbling.  It’s easy to feel like we’re unworthy of the grace. 

I felt that way during the first few weeks of Blake’s life.

But Christ died for the sinners. 

He died for the unworthy. 

His love transcends and reaches us where we are. He accepts us as His own and His grace covers our insecurities and our imperfections perfectly.  Isn’t that powerful?  As believers, our strength doesn’t come from us.  It comes from a reliance on the grace of our Savior King. 

And so I write this post knowing full well that my walk is imperfect, that my faith is imperfect….and that I’m forgiven, loved, and accepted anyway.

Today I look at my little boy and I can’t even fathom those feelings I had early on.  I can’t even imagine not knowing this little one, and not having him in my life.  That's grace. 

I hear You whispering my name, You say "My love for You will never change"