{may 2016 :: baby hands}
I’m not sure when it happened. It feels like just overnight. But my little baby’s hands…they have lost their baby soft touch. No longer are his palms puffy and smooth. He holds my hand now and his palms feel rough…more like his dad’s. The palms of a boy whose been hard at work all day; busy discovering, making, doing. He’s a little boy now… my baby fading into a sweet sweet memory.
I wonder to myself as I snuggle him to sleep tonight, would I have noticed? If we hadn’t faced infertility, if I hadn’t gone through the years of trying and the pain of “what if I never get to be a mom”…would I still notice little things like that?
There’s no doubt that my experience colors my perspective on life, and more so, on motherhood. The mom I am today is 100% influenced by the path I took to get here.
Would I still be laying here snuggling him to sleep for much longer than I really have time for and feeling mostly gratitude? Would I still breath him in deep and kiss his forehead and whisper all the things I love about him, instead of worrying about the things I could be, should be doing around the house? Would I have fought through the impatience and the frustration to stay present with my child and savor this moment, if I had never worried that I wouldn’t have the chance to do it at all?
{first family portrait}
Would I have teared up earlier today, heart about to burst, when he beamed as he held out his first family portrait for me to see? His excitement as he showed me which scribbles were Mommy and Daddy and Sadie ripped my heart into pieces, happy happy pieces. I’m so acutely aware that this simple moment wasn’t promised to me, almost wasn’t mine.
I do know that the worrier in me is amplified by infertility. I see it in my need to triple check that his car seat is tightened correctly before every single car ride. I know it drives my husband nuts that I will recheck his work, making certain he did it correctly too.
The anxiety I feel every night now that he sleeps in his own room…triple check the locks…is the alarm turned on? Did I close every window, every door and the gate to the hallway? Monitor on? Check… And the several times a night I wake and zoom in on the video monitor, just to make sure I see the soft rise and fall of his chest… I’m pretty sure that is the infertility speaking.
I can see it in other peoples eyes, when my son is running a little too fast towards the street and though he’s still far from danger, there is a shrill in my voice that’s a bit unnecessary, a panic that I just can’t control… they must be thinking “geez, this mom’s is a tad overbearing”. I know. I know it’s unnecessary, I know he’s like 50 feet from the road and I can calm down. But what you don’t know, judgy mom from the park, is how hard I fought for this little boy. Protecting him feels just a bit scarier, heavier than I imagined it would.
I’m pretty sure I can blame infertility for the tears I cried the other night, beating myself up for making him a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for dinner, when I knew he hadn’t touched a vegetable all day. See, when you fear you might be childless, you start to make promises to God… “God, if you give me a child I swear I will be the best-mom-ever-on-the-face-of-the-earth” …and that mom would obviously feed her child the most nutritious food…hello!
*sigh* infertility has also taught me to give myself grace, because Lord knows that PB&J is a childhood staple and there is nothing wrong with serving it for dinner. That “best-mom-ever-on-the-face-of-the-earth” stuff has gotta go.
I really do believe I’m a better mom because of my struggles. Not a better mom than someone else, but a better mom than I would have been. Pre-infertility me was pretty selfish, and kinda lazy. My biggest concern about being a mom back then was losing my precious sleep, because I looooved to sleep in (I mean really, ask anyone). I still catch myself feeling surprised when my son wakes me up early on a Saturday morning and my first response is a smile. No one ever got a smile from me first thing in the morning before infertility.
I’ll never know for sure if the reason I can (usually) have eons of patience with my son or the reason I light up every time I see him is just because I’m a mom, or if it’s because I’m an IVF mom, but either way, I’m grateful. I’m grateful that my heart is full simply by seeing his grubby face after a day at work. I’m grateful that I have found value in living in the moment because I don’t want to miss a single thing. I’m grateful that being his mom has pushed be to become a better human than I was before.
I do know for certain that infertility has helped me see God’s gifts in everything. That our struggle to have a baby taught me how to find gratitude in all things, at all times. Infertility has shown me that I am made for more, and given me the drive and strength to pursue that version of myself, the one God made me to be.
I might not be the best-mom-ever-on-the-face-of-the-earth, but I’m on my way to being the best mom for MY child, the mom that God created me to be. Isn’t that what matters most?
I have gut feeling that pre-infertility me would have missed the point in many ways. She would have gotten bogged down in the day to day, easily dismissed a moment to connect when there was something that felt more pressing to do. I know she would have been a good mom, but I think she’d have a harder time seeing the bigger picture, seeing the blessing that she had in her hands. She just wouldn’t have known. I don’t know for sure, and I am certainly not talking about other moms. I’m not trying to say that infertility moms are better moms…not in the slightest. What I am saying, is that I am a better mom and and better person for the battle we face. That’s my journey.
I’ll try not to cry tonight when Austin’s newly sand-papered palms reach for my cheek in his sleep. Watching him grow is as much heart breaking as it is the joy of my life. Maybe these tears are also because of infertility. Because the last three years have gone so fast and while I believe I’ll get to see another child through these early years, I know that isn’t guaranteed. I’d like to pause time for a bit, find a way to carve these small moments into my memory so they can never fade, never be forgotten. Sometimes I’m filled with panic about the swift passing of time, grasping at anything to slow it down. Motherhood sure does a number on your heart.
If you’re a mom, squeeze those babies tight tonight and take a minute to remind yourself how precious that gift is. Then give yourself some grace – you’re doing great! If you’re not a mom yet, if you’re in the trenches of infertility, trust that God is using this time to shape you into the mom He created you to be for the child He’s got waiting for you. And give yourself loads of grace too!
Sending all the moms and moms-in-waiting love tonight. We’ve got the hardest and best job in the whole wide world.
XO, Nicole