The gift

 That last post was pretty sad. It's a thought I have often, of course, but I really try hard not to dwell on it because each day that I wake up, I have choices to make about the things I do and how I focus my time. Feeling sorry for myself isn't high on my priority list. :)

I'm reading this book, The School for Good Mothers and it's pretty depressing. Being a mom is hard. You go from being an individual person to having a part of yourself rolling around on the outside of your body. While there are a lot of parenting books out there, I've yet to read one that is 100% applicable to my life or my situation. Some of those books, well, I just don't know who is able to live in the way they suggest. People have all these expectations for moms. Somehow you're supposed to know how to be a "good mom" even if you grew up in an environment that wasn't "good." You're supposed to be able to meet every demand, ever need of this new little creature that you love more than anything, but you know literally nothing about. Being a mom is an on-the-job experience. You may have read all the books or had previous experience watching someone else's kids, but you don't know what it's like to be on call 24/7. It changes who you are or maybe it brings out who you were meant to be.

Being a mama was hard in the beginning, but it wasn't just hard. It was amazing and beautiful. 

And it was lonely. 

I've never had a lot of friends. I've known people and I've done things with people, but I've rarely let people in on who I really am. It's no one's fault; it's just how I am. When I had Evan, Bo was home for a few days and then he had to go back to work. It was just me and Evan. 

It could be lonely. A baby doesn't respond to questions or conversation. Babies will cry even while you're comforting them. And Evan was an easy baby, other than the no sleeping thing. But the days were so wonderful, too. Evan and I had a pretty solid daily thing; not a routine, really, because nothing was ever at the same time, but we knew what to expect from our days, what we'd do. I'd read whatever book I was reading aloud to him and he'd color or play. We'd nap together. I loved our afternoon naps.

I didn't hesitate, though, on dreaming of having another baby. I think, if things would have been better and there'd been no recession and no cancer, I would have wanted two more kids. 

I worried there wouldn't be enough love in my heart for Arlo, because I knew how much I loved Evan, but when Arlo was born, it was just like he fit, right there, with us. I remember crying to Bo about what if I don't love this baby the same? Then Arlo was born, after the quickest labor experience. We dropped Evan off at my mom's house around 2 in the morning on a Friday, and Arlo was with us in the car, returning home at 8 AM that same morning. Arlo just meshed. Looking back, I can appreciate the ease of it. Evan, Arlo, and I made it through our days with no real routine or expectation to our days beyond enjoying them. I think we enjoyed them. I know they won't remember the days, but I hope they remember the love of those days. 

Being a mama is one of the hardest things I've ever done because I want to do it right. I don't want to mess them up. Being a "Cancer Mom" is harder than just being a mom was, though, because now I know that there's something that can definitely "mess" them up. Now I worry about all the regular mom things plus how do I make this a "growth" experience?

Selfishly, though, I realize that being a mama is the greatest gift I've ever been given. I'm thankful every day that I get to look at these two little boys who are growing into young men before my eyes. They are gentle and kind with me. And they're hilarious like their daddy. We need to work on things still, right? We're still molding and emphasizing and working toward the end goal of getting them to fly on their own, but I'm so thankful I've been able to have this experience at being their mama. 

Being a mom is hard. You go from being an individual person to having a part of yourself rolling around on the outside of your body. And you learn that the little extension you grew isn't you at all -- it's this unique individual that you have the honor of watching develop, and you realize the difficulty is more than offset by the wonder of the whole experience. 

Being a mama is hard, but it's been the greatest gift Bo has ever given me, when 15-1/2 years ago, we were walking on his parents' property, and he said If she can do it, why can't we?, and he provided me the opportunity to find my life's purpose.