How Babies Make You Forget, and Remember
Posted in Parenting | 16 comments
There was a time when I didn’t think I wanted kids. I had decided that other people could give birth and populate the earth, I was just-fine-thank-you and didn’t really need to experience that whole labor thing.
I’d raise horses. Or dogs.
Of course, I was ten years old and had just witnessed the birth of my sister. I don’t really know what my mom was thinking and maybe she never hoped to have grandkids, but it was a bit much for me to grasp.
I still don’t understand why people describe child-birth with words like ‘beautiful’ or ‘exhilarating’. Messy, painful, shameless and loud seem more appropriate.
Yes, a new baby is amazing.
Yes, bringing life into the world is a God-honored gift.
Yes, most near death experiences draw us closer to God, but the whole thing was enough to make me relish the idea of a childless adulthood.
But like I said, I was ten.
Shortly after I turned twenty I was married, and a year or so later I was working at a child-care center. With the babies and toddlers.
And I can’t tell you, probably don’t need to tell you, what little-girls-named-Lauren who say “peach-es” and little-boys-named-Logan who wear Baby Gap, do to a young newlywed.
Can’t even describe it.
Nevermind the contagious biting or the tantrum epidemic. Forget about the flying toys and flinging raviolis. I. was. smitten. And no amount of birth-related-horror-stories could dissuade me.
I had to have one. Then two. Then three in three years. My dad threatened to buy us a television.
And they say that a mother forgets all the pain of labor as soon as she sees that newborn baby. I’ve forgotten a lot of things, but not the pain of childbirth.
But bringing home a newborn, being exempt from all other cares of the world, and being someone’s mother, those are moments worth pain and tearing and breaking.
Those are heaven-filled moments, and I get it now.
I am a step-mom, an adoptive mom, a frazzled, short-tempered and scatter-brained mom. I am mom with four m’s and six o’s. With kids who now look down at her. Mom who reminds and who laughs and who messes up daily, in plain view of the ones she wants to be perfect for.
I pray warrior-prayers for my children.
And I am cynical about the pain and labor of child birth but Jesus, He bore us with the greatest of agony. With all the blood and tearing and heart-wrenching abandonment. Alone. And the pain of rejection from us whom He bore, all of us standing there mocking.
And we call that wonderful. Beautiful. Redemptive.
I was offended a couple of weeks ago by a picture of a cross made of guns. Offended, because my Savior was hanging on this crude cross made of gun metal and I thought that somehow that was irreverent. Less holy than a wooden cross. Yeah.
On so many levels, that picture means more to me now. I can barely wrap words around it.
A cross is not beautiful, not fashionable jewelry even when it’s made of precious metals. It’s a method of death. Of ugly, torturous, agonizing, slow death. The beauty and the victory isn’t in the method, it’s in the Life that overpowered death and gave us life.
And so with child-birth. Every near death experience brings us closer to Life, one way or another. I’m steeping in this thought still and trying to word it just right, but the bottom line is this: the most beautiful things can come by terrible, horrible, ugly means.
Now I hold the baby born of that sister who I watched-into-the-world 27 years ago. And oh, the glow of motherhood looks good on her.
Linking up with Emily at Imperfect Prose, Tell Your Story, and Crystal at Thriving Thursdays
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Tresta, I adore how you tell story. Your humor, your honesty and your deep heart come through the lines. I love what you say here: “Every near death experience brings us closer to Life, one way or another.” Oh, that we would press into more of that life — for ourselves and our babies.
Thank you, Ashley. Pressing in with you : )
Wow. Yes, heaven-filled moments. Yes, appearing through terrible, horrible, ugly means. This was so rich. Happy to find you through IP!
Quiet Girl – love that name! Happy to find you here.
Tresta, I feel like I am sitting with you over coffee, your writing has such a beautiful intimacy to it. So much for me to steep in here…to marinate in. What richness your prose has. Yes, yes, I too am a mom, adoptive, hair-brained, scatter-brained, behind on the laundry, but oh the beauty born of the ripping and tearing. And everyday it grows and they grow me. Amen? love to you, friend.
You and me, coffee…someday?! That would be lovely, friend.
It is a blessing for sure and quite an experience! The best part about going through all the pain is that once your baby comes into this world with a cry, you instantly forget all the pain you just experienced. it was all worth it! I’m glad the image of me being born didn’t scare you away from being a mom because your kids are so wonderful and smart and I’m glad they are my family! And they are this way because of great parents!
Well I guess you should say you forget all the pain for that time being, but the memories definitly come back!
Thanks, Fusser ; ) We’re pretty glad you’re our family, too. You’ve always been a great aunt to my kiddos…now it’s my turn!
what a glimpse into the timeline of your mothering journey.
so glad you chose motherhood, even with all its blood and gore.
or maybe, more appropriately, motherhood chose you.
Me, too, Kelli! So glad that emotion over-rode my “reason”, and that God chose me for this!
Wow, what a perfect explanation we mothers go through. such a beautiful yet pain-filled, experience that becomes all worth it when you hold that little life. Thanks for sharing your beautiful writing!
oh my goodness. i feel so tender after reading this. you described it perfectly. and yes, you never forget the pain of giving birth. never.
I know exactly what you mean about how working with babies kicks your maternal instinct into overdrive. I used to be scared to death about babies. Now I cannot wait until I am married and I can have some littles of my own.
Oh, I pray for your time to come! Praying patience and Mr. Right for you
I love the arc to this story….the path….the process….all so beautiful. Blessings!