I worry about getting lost.
About wasting my “good” years and having nothing to show for it.
I worry that my kids will suck all the life out of me.
That I’ll only live out a fraction of my potential.
(I worry about whether Wendy’s chicken nuggets have ground-up chicken beaks in them too. I worry a lot. And yet we still eat drive-thru food once a week.)
I’ll be 100% honest here and say that I’m having a hard time sorting my life out right now. The past few months have been a season of waiting and abiding and I’m uncomfortable. “My life” really consists of four other people’s lives. Tending to everyone else’s needs and wants. Making food. Schooling two children. Doing laundry. Cleaning. Taking time to listen to them. Connecting with my husband daily.
It is so much. (Right, mamas??? I’m not alone here, right? It’s a lot.)
Sometimes I think I’m strong and sometimes I just break down and need to cry. Get it out and then move on and put a smile on that (tired) face. On occasion, I’ll find myself daydreaming about what life would look like without kids. What would I do with my days??
I’d own a gym and pour myself into training clients.
I’d enjoy pedicures and get my hair done. Regularly.
I’d lay in bed until however long I wanted and then have unrushed loud sex with my husband.
I’d eat my treats before 8pm because there’d be no one around to steal them.
No one around.
There would be no one around.
No Henry Cole. No Clara Kathleen. No Porter Killian.
And suddenly I’m falling to my knees, thanking God for such a glorious life. My life equals four other lives! Praise God!!!!! He thinks enough of me and my ability to gift me with so much. He thinks the weight won’t be too heavy; He’ll make the burden light. He knows I can’t do it alone so he gives me a perfect partner to navigate parenthood with. He created me to be strong enough to tend to these little lives 24 hours a day, they never leave my side. They’re tucked right under my wing, right where they’re supposed to be. ….And so am I.
So yeah, this isn’t my season.
This is their season.
These hard years are for nurturing and teaching and supporting THEM. For “raising them up in the way they should go.” For being less selfish. For pouring my heart and soul out.
And yes, for losing myself a little.
I think I’d be more worried if I didn’t.