It gets better.
I keep coming to that promise with desperation and doubt. “What if it doesn’t get better? What if this is the permanent state of my being? What if my baby will never sleep through the night?”
As much as I know logically that my fears are ridiculous, they still abound, and I feel bound to those fears. I feel trapped in this limbo… between freedom and imprisonment. Even as I write my ears perk up to hear if she is crying, prematurely awaking from her nap. My heart flutters and stomach drops. I can’t sleep because of the anvil grip that trepidation has over my heart. I close my eyes and rest, willing myself to sleep, but I can’t.
Loneliness colors every part of the apartment. It touches every movement I make, even as I drag myself out of wakeful resting to get my crying daughter so I can feed her. Nursing her and playing with her is the one bright moment of the day. But this moment, when I am not clinging on to the fragile web of her sleep, is disfigured by my anxiety as I anticipate her nap time with dread. As the sun goes down early these winter days, my loneliness stretches itself out even further in this empty apartment.
Motherhood.
Who knew it would be filled with so much fear, doubt, anxiety?
Enjoy it.
How? How do I enjoy these days when my heart is so anxious? When all I can do is will for these baby days to end quickly so my heart can go back to its normal pattern? This is not enjoyable…
My love is so small. My trust in God so weak.
As I look on my daughter’s sleeping face, or listen to her holler with frustration and fear in my heart, I wonder if I even love her. The beginning days were filled with love. The joy of this gift from God overwhelmed any difficulties and challenges. As the days stretched into anxious weeks, that love gave way to drudgery and a desire for this all to just go by quickly.
Oh Lord, forgive me for my small love, my weak love. Teach me Calvary love. Agape toward my daughter. Help me to demonstrate the gospel through selfless, sacrificial love toward my daughter. Help me endure her crying. Strengthen my heart that I may love her like you love me. That though I cannot share Christ’s love with her, teaching her what He did for her on the cross, that I exemplify it with humility and JOY.
Grant me wisdom to care for her, raise her, teach and train her well.
Baby days are filled with problem solving. Even now, her nap is interrupted by her cute hiccuping. And as I scour the internet, text my mom friends, call my mom friends, stretch out to every resource I know for help, I turn around to look at the trail and see so little prayer.
Father, even as I grasp out my hand for help, forgive me for not turning to you and grounding my hope in YOU. Thank you Lord, that with each promise of improvement, you bring new challenges… Thank you that you teach me to keep turning to you, even when I forget to. Thank you that you keep showing me that all good gifts come from you.
Motherhood.
There has been nothing more sanctifying. And so I offer my praise and thanksgiving with this trembling heart.
“Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all comprehension, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.”
Philippians 4:6-7