You see, I was never super nurturing. I didn't push around my dolls in a tiny stroller and pretend I was their mommy. I was not a sweet older sister to my little brother - tormented him relentlessly is more accurate. Then as a teenager, while I thought it was fun to help with Bible School at church, I rarely babysat and had no desire to hold tiny babies or change diapers.
No one ever said to me in my younger years "You are going to be such a great mom someday."
Not even once.
But the truth is this : God has much better ideas about you than other people do.
In my twenties I told myself all kinds of lies, like I wasn't deserving of motherhood. That motherhood was for other women, and I'd probably be physically unable to get pregnant.
Then - motherhood was thrown to me like a fastball. (And I suck at sports.) Hubby and I had been married three years, had the house and the dog, I was approaching thirty. A baby seemed like the next logical step. I didn't get my hopes up going into the process...but it happened before I could even comprehend it.
As soon as I knew there was a baby inside me, there was a radical shift in my mindset. I almost heard God whispering, "This is what I want for you. None of that other stuff you are doing or have done. The selfish stuff, the unhealthy stuff. Give that up and take this. This is the thing I have for you and it will save you. This is grace."
Sure, the whole first year of motherhood I was a complete mess. I hadn't a clue what I was doing. I made tons of mistakes. I stressed out and read a million parenting books. I probably gave Cormac permanent anxiety from all my hovering and helicoptering I did during his baby years.
Eight years later I'm still a mess. I yell at my kids, nag them and my husband, am rather disorganized and have dropped the ball about plenty of school stuff (thankfully Cormac is SUPER organized and reminds me of the important details.)
If I compare myself to other moms it could leave me paralyzed. Sometimes I look at social media and think : Why is it that some moms seemingly can do it all and have it all and I can barely do the minimum?
Then I stop the comparing and I remember the grace. I remember the things I do right with my kids. I love laughing with them and goofing around. I acknowledge their feelings and make sure they know they can express them and feel them all safely. I read to them voraciously and tell them about Jesus and say I'm sorry when I screw up.
I remember that God meant me for these kids. That my past experiences can help me parent them. Motherhood has forced me to address issues I had pushed down, causing me to seek help and work through things and grow even further as a mom and a person.
I will always be a work in progress. Always.
However, now I see that I was meant for motherhood. Even me.
I wish I could go back to that spirited little girl, that angsty teen, and that hot mess of a twenty-something version of myself, grasp her hands and tell her lovingly, "You are going to be a great mom, someday. What you are going through now will make you that mom."
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