I promise, I'll post my birth story soon, just for a record.
I am just having some middle of the night musings that I feel I need to record.
Being a new mother is the most humbling thing I have ever experienced. Over the last three weeks I've spent more time on my knees, asleep on the couch and rocking chair, asking for help, filled with a joy I could never even begin to comprehend, and the deepest sorrow I've ever felt. I've been peed on, pooped on, and puked on. I've also been slept on, loved on, focused on, and smiled on.
My thoughts, actions, and every word are turned heavenward. I have constantly had a prayer on my lips. I prayer that my precious baby would come soon. A prayer that she would be healthy. A prayer that there would be no complications, and when it seemed there would be, a prayer that I would cope no matter what. My prayers then turned to ones of sleep. I prayed that by baby would sleep for more than 20 minutes at a time because I was so exhausted. There were prayers that no harm would come to pass while we were sleeping. That I would be able to sleep through the anxiety of something going wrong, and I prayed that I would be able to hear that little cry in the night. Those prayers were, and still are, answered. Three wonderful hours at a time. Yes, it's been extremely hard. One of the hardest things I've ever had to do. I often find myself thanking my Heavenly Father that my baby is healthy and sleeping three hours at a time, and asking him to grant me the strength to roll out of bed and take care of her. The prayers have turned to ones of comfort. Both for me and for Molly. Every moment I utter a prayer. When the baby spits up, I pray that she's alright. When she's sleeping I offer a prayer of thanks. When she's getting bounced by her daddy and is just content as can be, I offer a prayer of gratitude for the life I have been given. I have been blessed. I've learned the power of the "every day" prayer. Those tender moments where you raise your eyes to heaven and cry out for help and a gentle peace washes over you. The prayers that are like a small child asking their father for help with the simple things in life are answered with blessings poured upon me and I am loved.
I have felt the deepest love over the last three weeks. Love that I didn't know existed. I've felt love. I've loved. What I feel for this little angel child can scarcely be called love. It's so much more powerful than that. I loved her before she was born. My heart swelled when I found out I was expecting and I instantly found myself with stronger feelings than I had ever had before. I loved my husband more. I loved my family more. I loved my friends more. All that love must have been making room in my heart for Molly. I couldn't imagine how love could grow so strong, but every time I look at her, or see TR holding her or watch her sleep, my love for her only grows stronger and penetrates my very core.
Along with that love comes the joy and sorrow I feel. Molly has a terrible rash right now. Every time I change her diaper it breaks my heart. I feel like I could just die when I hear her cry so hard she can barely breathe. I can't just wave my hand and make it better and that is a sorrow I never imagined. I know there will be many more times like that for me through her life and the thought of it just makes my heart ache. On the other side of that, the joy I feel while snuggling my daughter, rocking her while she's sleeping, snoring softly, is incomprehensible. A feeling I couldn't even begin to describe if I wanted to. It's a very sacred, soft feeling, but a powerful one. A feeling that brings tears to my eyes.
Over the last three weeks I've had to learn to ask for help. There is a reason why they say it takes a village to raise a child. I can't do it all on my own. I don't like to ask for help. I never have. My stubborn nature fights against it with everything I am. But, when you're running on a night where your newborn baby has woken up every hour to eat or be changed or just to be cuddled, it's hard to focus and do the dishes or make yourself some lunch even though you're starving. I'm lucky. I have lots of family nearby that help me. I have a wonderful husband that does everything he can for me. My pride prevented me from asking for help. I have been humbled. I have asked for help with every aspect of my life. Laundry, dishes, even getting in and out of the bathtub. The first few days, I found it horribly degrading. I should be able to do these simple things for myself. This is silly. I would try to do them myself before help would come in the morning. I found it wore me out and impaired my ability to care for not only myself, but Molly as well. It wore me out and made nursing, holding Molly, changing her, and even sleeping a hassle. A few days after coming home from the hospital I fell terribly ill. I had a fever and the shakes. I could barely lift my head. It was miserable. I know now that this was a lesson for me. I had to ask for help. I couldn't hold Molly without feeling like I was going to drop her. I couldn't feed her. I couldn't do anything. Again, I am blessed with amazing family. I asked for help that day. I spent the day sleeping on the couch. Dishes and laundry got done. Molly was taken care of. When my fever broke later that evening I realized how much I needed the help of those around me. Even now as I'm feeling better and able to do more, I have found myself constantly being humbled by a loving Heavenly Father and in need of help from others. This is by far my hardest lesson. I'm a slow learner, but I think I'm catching on.
I know my Father in Heaven loves me. If he didn't, he wouldn't have sent me this perfect angel of a daughter. I needed to grow and learn much more before she could come into my life, and I continue to grow and learn as I earn my "Mommy" title. We never stop growing, and I am more humbled by being a Mother than I have been in my entire life. My life has been blessed. It will continue to be blessed because I know I am loved. He will never leave me alone.
Next up- The birth story!
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