Maybe it’s all of the babies being born lately, or maybe it’s the fact that it’s pretty much what I do, but I’ve been thinking a lot about being a mom these days. It’s interesting to me that someone such as myself, could go from being somewhat indifferent to having children to where I am now-- absolutely head over heels in love, in a my world could never be this complete without them sort of way. And it’s not that I didn’t want kids, it’s just that I was always more focused on my “career”… ha! (This may have had something to do with the ridiculously exorbitant amount of money that UD charged my parents for me to go there. We won’t even begin to touch upon the idea that I’m thinking of going back to school one day for something entirely different than my current degree.) Kids were always such a later thing… something that I could tackle after I justified spending that ridiculously exorbitant amount of my parents’ money on my education. (I always like to joke that my tuition is similar to a dowry, for without paying it, I never would have met and married Jared. But I digress…)
What’s funny, is that it’s taken me up until this past week to realize how having a baby, or two, or three really changes you. (Duh.) There are the obvious differences—like how a few months prior you may have been thinking about going out to happy hour with friends, and now you’re thinking about how to fix your baby’s constipation (that’s right—because when you have kids, their pooping issues are a very normal topic of conversation). Or how you don’t have rings under your eyes because you stayed up late watching a movie with your hubby, but because after you fell asleep on the couch during the first five minutes of the movie you were watching with your hubby, your 2 year old then proceeded to wake you up over and over and over again.
I mean changes you on a deeper, more of a complete identity change level. I am not the same person that I was before I had kids. And for some reason it took me two and a half years to figure out just how different I am from who I was pre-Leah and Isaac. I’m not special in this regard—I imagine any mom would say the same.
I was at a women’s bible study a few weeks ago, and since there were a few new people there (myself included), everybody went around the table and introduced themselves and told everybody a little bit about themselves. I’m not even sure if anyone even noticed it, but each of the women there described who they were as a person by telling us about their kids—how many they had, what their ages were, whether they were boys or girls, etc. And the more I thought about it, the more I realized how much I do it myself. I define myself by Leah and Isaac. Or should I say, Leah and Isaac define me. Their moods define my moods. Their smiles create my smiles. And likewise, their tears can cause my tears. (Although not always, but mainly because I just don’t think it’s worth crying over the fact that Isaac ripped the page in your book. Or that you were just told no for trying to stand up in the tub for then tenth time in ten seconds.) I even wear a necklace that has their names on it, so on the off-chance that I’m out somewhere without them, people will still know that I have two sweet little babies that I hold very close to my heart.
So I’ve made this very slow revelation and I realized that all of those things that get shifted, pushed to the backburner, or completely disappear—don’t make me sad at all. It’s just what moms DO for their kiddos. Careers get chucked to the wayside, despite the education, costs, and hours at the office put into them. Nights out with friends become fewer and farther between. You agree to have something giant come out of something very small, and on the chance that it doesn’t work accordingly, you willingly go into surgery to have your teensy little baby arrive safely. And you basically accept the fact that your body will never, ever look as good as it did before you had kids. (After just having weaned my second child, I can truly attest to this fact. I am pretty sure that 4 years ago, my abdomen was not equal in size to my chest. What. The. Heck.) Have I mentioned that up until a few weeks ago, I have either been pregnant or nursing since November 2007?
I should note here that I am not trying to negate what Dad’s do. Jared is an amazing Daddy to our kids, and I know plenty of other amazing Dads that do just as much, if not more for their children. I’m just thinking out loud from the perspective I know best.
This isn’t supposed to be a Moms Are Amazing blog post and I apologize if it’s all come out that way. But it was meant to be more of an Aren’t Kids Amazing kind of post? Isn’t the love they instill in your heart one of the most incredible feelings ever? It’s because of that love, that we moms and dads can give up the “fun things” we used to do, can have our lives turned topsy-turvy without even batting an eye. Without even realizing it for two and a half years. Now that's something, isn't it?
