I haven't blogged since John left. I could write about a million sad things but who wants to read that on Mother's Day? I could write about my girls and our struggles to have kids, my babies in heaven and my longing to be a mother. Instead, I am just going to ramble about my mother.
Tired is the best adjective to describe me. In every aspect of my life I am just plain tired. Moms with older children tell me I will sleep again one day and I will wear makeup. I hear it doesn't get any easier...it just changes. "Just wait until they're teenagers" If my life is any prediction of my future I can tell you that being a mother will never get any easier. Your children will always need you and I wonder how I would survive without my mother. Even at the age of 36 I can't imagine life without her.
I can tell you that even if you do everything right, they might throw their faith out the window. I can tell you that at least one of your kids will move back home, at least once, and they might bring reinforcements with them. Reinforcments that cry.
I needed my mother in the traditional sense for the first sixteen years of my life. From about age 17 to 24 I needed her prayers. If you think your child is lost don't EVER EVER EVER stop praying. He is listening. Don't ever give up on God. I know I survived that period of my life because of her constant prayer and I cringe when I think of the pain I caused my parents.
But God is faithful. I should just stop typing right there.
Then, something happened. When I was 25 I needed surgery and not an appendectomy. I need real surgery, brain surgery. I moved home and I was completely dependent on my mother for my survival, again. I might write a whole blog about it one day but for now I'll just say....I needed her. I had a good job, my own home and BAM! just like that, I was back in my old room and she was feeding me. She took notes at doctor appointments and kept a vigil next to my room when the doctor told her I couldn't be alone. She checked on me at night to make sure I was still alive. Now that I have my own children I can't imagine. When I was in unspeakable pain, so much that I wanted to end my life, she knew just by looking in my eyes and she got on the phone. She drove me to work every day. I could go on and on. My point, if I have one, is that she was once again on duty 24/7 and my survival depended on her.
Now, it depends on her in a different way. I'm back, again. This time two little girls sleep in that old room. I don't know how I would take care of them without her right now. They are so small. When Lilyana woke up with a fever and I needed to feed Katie, she took Lilyana in to her bed. She feeds them, bathes them and helps with vomit and runny noses. She probably thinks "wait, didn't I already do this?"
She does all this because she is my mom. It doesn't get any easier. It's not a full time job; it's a lifetime job.
When I went into labor with both girls I reminded John that if something crazy happened "that the baby's life is more important than mine" That probably sounds dramatic but didn't we all feel that way? I imagine, or hope, that most of us felt that way as soon as we were pregnant.
God did this. God created mothers with an ability to love that can't be explained. Every mother is a gift from God and I know mine certainly is.
I love you MOM!!!!
In closing for those men who are still reading I'll say that I really miss the roar of Chinooks overhead.
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