You may imagine that I'm writing such a titled post in a blissful wave of giggles and ease with my little man, nary a complaint in sight. But you'd be wrong. In fact, it's been a very trying week. Asher has been really fussy and uncomfortable, whining about 80% of his awake time, and threatening to break the streak of even his most fail-safe favorites (his Animal Babies book and being outside in any capacity). On top of this, M has been fiercely working on a mixing and sound design project against an impossible deadline for a major client, so finding moments of zen are hard to come by for all of us.
Nevertheless, it is even in such a week that I can say that being a mom is more wonderful than I could have possibly known.
I guess everyone says that (or those who don't probably don't broach the subject often), but you have to understand that I didn't always want to be a mother. In fact, I spent the majority of my life not wanting kids. They confused me, they scared me, they annoyed me...I was good imagining a yard full of dogs, y'all.
But then I met my husband. And I was like, "Yup. Babies."
I don't have to explain to any mother out there that it's exhausting, it's physically the most demanding thing ever, it stretches your perception of self to include another squishy being, and it will change everything. Forever. There's scarcely a true grasp of life before my son anymore.
Every time I hold my boy close and feel his baby hairs against my cheek, I just want to cry in absolute gratefulness that the Lord saw fit to make me Asher's mother, and to melt a heart of stone to experience even a shadow of God's unfailing love for us, hobbling babes who survive on trust and hope. I'm thankful that He knows better than me, and that my plans don't often come to fruition.
Because His plans are so, so much better.