Dear Lord, it's such a hectic day
With little time to stop and pray
For life's been anything but calm
Since you called me to be a mom
Running errands, matching socks
Building dreams with matching blocks
Cooking, cleaning and finding shoes
And all those things that young ones lose
Fitting lids on bottled bugs
Wiping tears and giving hugs
A stack of last week's mail to read
So where's the quiet time I need?
Yet as I go to bed each nice
My heart is filled with true love's light
As I take one last peek
I see this treasure you have given me
God's own sweet blessing sleeping there
The answer to a Mother's Prayer.
When I was pregnant with Ashton I had some crazy dreams. It was pretty much one dream shown in a bunch of different scenarios. Basically, the setting was my car during some sort of catastrophe, and I was posed with the dilemma of only saving one child. A lot of the scenarios revolved around a car hijacker and I had a split second to escape and grab one kid. Other times there was a car accident and we were trapped. Before the car exploded or went under water or off a cliff, I had to choose which son to rescue. One or the other. Never both.
I never once made it to the conclusion of these dreams. I never saw the decision. Who I saved. Who was left in the car. Because even my dreaming self argued with the logic. My dreaming self struggled to manipulate the rules set forth in the scenarios. Surely I could be quick enough, smart enough, use some ingenuity to outsmart the variables and save both sons.
I haven't thought about these dreams in years. I'd pretty much shelved them away under Crazy Pregnancy Symptom and forgotten about them. But since we've been discussing another baby, I've returned to my old concern, the one that manifested in my crazy dreams: how to juggle enough of me with all of them? Not just my time and attention, but my love and devotion.
Obviously I figured it out when one became two. It goes to reason I'll be able to again when two becomes three. But, still, it's a valid concern, right? All their needs and wants far outweigh the capacity of one human being. It's a daunting task that seems likely to swallow me whole. Yet I know. I instinctively know, as does every parent. We just know how to do it without ever having wrapped our minds around the "how". We just do.
I won't lie and pretend the transition from one kid to two was easy. It wasn't. It was hard. So very hard. In fact, it was so hard that last summer when it was time to start trying for another baby, perfectly spacing our children two years apart again, I just couldn't do it. I pressed pause. I decided it just wasn't time. I've always wanted at least three kids, if not four. My husband only ever wanted two, but during our required premarital counseling classes, we discussed this very topic. I told him I wanted four; he wanted two. We compromised at three. Three has always been our plan. Last summer I wasn't ready. The very idea of it made me all sweaty and panicky, as if I was reliving those hard months in the beginning after Ashton was first born. Last summer wasn't the right time. But now I am ready. I can almost feel the baby kicks inside my belly. Imagine all the potty runs and sugar cravings. Dread the discomfort that houses itself right up in my ribs for months and months. Feel the weight of the new born baby in my hands. Picture my boys oohing and aahing over their new sibling. Witness my husband's fear of babies as he cradles his new child yet again. These images make my heart race, but instead of in a scary-head-for-the-hills sort of way, I'm excited and impatient and ready. I'm ready.