The Good Part

At my 10-year vet school reunion last weekend, a close friend, and mother of two little ones herself, asked me what was the hardest part for me about mothering a newborn. I looked at Jon to see if he knew, I hemmed and hawed, and I tried earnestly to come up with something profound, because I know that infant-rearing is supposed to be extremely difficult, and I never want to be that mom who makes everything sound peachy and rose-colored when I'm really a mess. But I struggled to find an answer.

After all, what could be anything other than warm and fuzzy about this sweetpea: 

I mean this is all he does, right?

Well, no. He doesn't do much of that at all really.

Isaiah the Insatiable spends most of his time eating. Sometimes he falls asleep mid-meal, but if I try to put him down he frantically searches for food as if his life depends on no less than 20 hours of milk intake per day.

So this week, I've figured out what the hardest part about mothering Baby Zy has been: facing my task-orientedness. I knew God would use this precious munchkin to teach me loads of stuff, and this is just one of His first lessons. 

As pregnancy was drawing to a close, I was becoming more and more useless. I was progressively more tired and huge and much less mobile. So, Jon stepped up and started caring more for Angie and pampering me. After the baby was born, I was obviously at my most helpless. Restricted from driving and climbing the stairs I was confined almost completely to the bedroom, unable to pitch in around the house at all, but at peace with these temporary constraints with a two-week timeframe in mind.

Now, six weeks post-partum, and feeling entirely capable of getting back to normal chores, errands, and usefulness, I'm chomping at the bit to accomplish, well, anything.

Every time Jon says, "Let me get that for you, Babe," or "Let me do that, Baby," with the purest and most selfless of intentions, I feel a tiny bit like a failure as a wife, a mother, and an independent human being. He's right, it's better if he goes to the grocery store, because the baby needs to nurse. It makes more sense if he cleans up after the dinner he's prepared because the baby's hungry again. He should be the one to grab the laundry from the dryer, fill up the car with gas, help Angie with her homework, unload the dishwasher, etc. etc. etc. while I accept my new role as the child's food source, pacifier, and cradle.

It feels so good to get things done though. I don't relish the label task-oriented, but I can't deny the gratification of finishing a job, whether as small as the dishwasher or as large as the laundry (who am I kidding, the laundry's never finished with a newborn, especially in cloth diapers.) So, when Zy's secure and snoozing in his car seat, one of the few places other than my arms where this happens, I nearly run around the house trying to straighten up and feel like a useful member of society. 

Wanting to be helpful again, led me to offer my aunt and uncle a ride to the airport at 4:30am yesterday. They were hesitant to accept, but I convinced them we'd be up anyways, why not make the most of it. In the end, I came to my senses, my overactive need to do more than just feed the baby started becoming clear to me, and I let them drive themselves. Choosing instead to spend another early morning snuggling my voracious eater and praying for him, his future wife, and for her mom who just might have been up taking care of her sweet hungry baby at the very same moment.  

Because as good as achieving things, checking stuff off lists, and keeping the house and family straightened up feels, I know those aren't the most important...

 Now as they were traveling along, He entered a village; and a woman named Martha welcomed Him into her home.  She had a sister called Mary, who was seated at the Lord’s feet, listening to His word.  But Martha was distracted with all her preparations; and she came up to Him and said, “Lord, do You not care that my sister has left me to do all the serving alone? Then tell her to help me.” 

But the Lord answered and said to her,“Martha, Martha, you are worried and bothered about so many things;  but only one thing is necessary, for Mary has chosen the good part, which shall not be taken away from her.”

-Luke 10-38:42 NASB

In the same way, bonding with this little man and giving him my full attention, is the good part, the part that I must not rob myself of in search of deceivingly greater purpose. 

This weekend, I pray instead of being consumed with Easter egg hunts, fancy clothes, family meals, or church attendance, that we can all sit at Jesus' feet and reflect on how the Lion of Judah became a helpless lamb for us. How He was pierced for our transgressions, and now because He is Risen we can have life abundantly...