12 weeks ago today, with little advance warning, we rushed in the middle of the night to our birthing center. I went upstairs, a bath was run, I got into the tub, and my baby slid out a few minutes later. And just as quick as she was born, our special time together is over, because it’s here. The end of maternity leave. And I do not want to budge from this house today.
Inside, waves of panic strangle me because the last thing I want to do is abandon my child to the care of strangers for over 9 hours a day. I do not want to let her out of my arms. I want to hold her forever. To nestle her next to my chest and feel her baby breath on my skin. I don’t want her to cry and be comforted by another woman. Or worse yet, ignored.
I know I’m the one who made this bed and now I have to lie in it. But it’s going to be a tear-soaked, debt-stained bed. Especially since my 12 week old refuses bottles and pacifiers and swaddling – anything the daycare could offer as a comfort, she hasn’t shown any interest in accepting. I worry for her and I worry for her caregivers and I worry for me – how will I subject her to this every day and not lose my mind?
So I had to put this in perspective.
God gives food to the birds of the air, and He tells me He’ll do the same for Me. I have no want for food. Even with meal planning, I have thrown away a lot of food at the end of the week. Oh yes, He has provided.
God clothes the lilies of the field and He has assured me that He’ll clothe me. And He has. So much that I have clothes in three closets and spilling out of our dresser. He’s kept that promise and then some.
God didn’t tell me that He’d give me everything I’d ever want. He said he was going to take care of me, and He has.
God calls us to trust Him, but that doesn’t mean we can’t grieve the possibilities. And so I do. I grieve, but I trust.
And it’s becoming easier and easier to trust because I’m actually listening to Him. I’ve opened my heart and my eyes and I’m listening with them. At completely random moments, a sense of peace will envelope me, and I knew it is Him comforting me. With a sweet baby cradled next to me, softly suckling, I feel answers. even if I don’t understand them. I am washed with calm, as if He’s leaned in to tell me that it will be alright. I’m becoming keenly aware that his answers are everywhere. He’s telling me “you may not understand, but I do. And I have got this. I have got you. Do. Not. Worry.’
I know that is all a post of its own, but I want to link up with Lisa Jo and her Five Minute Friday link-up. The rules are simple: she provides a writing prompt and you write for 5 minutes flat, without editing. Today’s word is nothing.
There is nothing I want more than to stay home today. Every day. Nothing is more important to me than my children. My family. Nothing will come between me and them – not even a job that I dedicate myself to because God says that, whatever I do, I am supposed to do it in the name of the Lord.
Which means that some days I come home and I feel like I have nothing left to give. And some days that means I barely try. But even on those days, I do still try.
Because there is nothing I can do to change my circumstances today. At least for now, I have to work.
There is nothing I won’t do for my girls and I mean that so earnestly, that I am ready to get rid of 100k in debt just as quickly as I can. For them. And not feel punished or upset about it.
There is nothing than my girls can’t do, but I am going to teach them that there are some things not to do. Like, if you want to be a astronaut (like I did), that’s all well and good. You can do it. But be sure to afford your dreams.