I may or may not ever get to blogging about the details of things, but know this, I must be motivated or prompted to sit and try to write a blog post, because it's 5:47 a.m. and I would normally be headed back to slumber land.
As I sit quietly during a 5:00 a.m. feeding, I am overwhelmed by thoughts of gratitude and wonder. As I look at my sweet boy I am completely amazed that this perfect little being with milky soft smooth skin, tiny fingers and round little head is mine to hold and love for eternity.
I am in awe that his chubby, smiling, laughing body is here and has grown from a small dot to a perfect child. It's incredible that over the last 15 months, he has developed and grown and stayed alive because of my body. A body so imperfect that it's easy to curse it sometimes. A body that aches and doesn't bend like it should. A body that has it's own turmoil but was able to grow two miraculous children. Sometimes when I look at my scary hands or contemplate my new "Scleroderma face" it's easy to wish for the past, the more vigorous, able, athletic, beautiful body I once had. At times I mourn what once was or what could have been, but after a little sadness and a few justified thoughts of loss, I am overcome with gratitude for the path my life has taken and for the things this broken body has been able to do.
A girl and a boy. Blondies. Smart, smiley, sassy, difficult, beautiful, perfect children.
Their soft skin instead of my thick hard restrictive shell. Their bouncy, jumpy, bendy bodies instead of my inflexible creaky one. Their soft pink lips instead of my thin tight ones. Their perfect supple flexible fingers instead of my crunched, hard, bent, wounded purple cold ones. Their healthy lungs fully functioning and breathing sweet air instead of mine, impaired and laboring hard as I climb stairs.
I might look a little different, or hold my baby a little awkwardly. I might embarrass them at some point with my ever present gloves and heat pack, but I know I am supposed to be their mother. I might not be the one to wrestle with them on the floor or run up and down the soccer field with them, but I can push a stroller and I can help sound out words and I can play I spy and I can revel in the things I can and will teach my children. I will smile and watch as their father does the things with them that I cannot because he is my partner in their miracles.
And I will forever be grateful to my Heavenly Father for allowing me to meet and marry a perfect partner for me. I will forever be grateful that he allowed and enabled me to be a mother to these children. I am indebted to my Savior who covers all of my imperfections and understands my pain and my joy. Life is full of both. In these early morning hours I am at peace with my pain and empowered by my joy.
