17 July 2013

a decade of motherhood

This morning I laid awake for a few minutes before mustering the energy to get out of bed. Last night I had fallen asleep quickly, but then I woke up and could. not. get. back. to. sleep.

So the first half of the night was long because I was trying to fall asleep without keeping the man awake.  I do a lot of my best praying during these awake-but-wish-to-be-asleep times.  Eventually, after revisiting my mental prayer list a few times, I did fall asleep.

Then Franklin woke up.  Screaming.  I am not sure how long that went on.  Longer than any of us hoped, that is for sure.  I was awake, but useless because I had just fallen asleep shortly before the screaming began.

This morning when my clock told me it was time to get up, I was slow moving.  I prayed about my mothering, before rolling out of bed.  I know these days that follow nights with little sleep are generally tough ones.

Sometime between rolling out of bed and pouring that first cup of coffee while the house was quiet, I thought back to 10 years ago today.  July 17, 2003, I drank a concoction of raspberry tea and castor oil.  While the initial aftermath was wretched, I am pretty sure I had forgotten about it by the time I went to bed that evening.  When I woke-up with stomach cramps, I thought it was the castor oil, but didn't think it was labor.  First-time pregnancy bliss!

  

(we put on a happy face for the camera)

 I didn't wake Brad because I was pretty sure the castor oil was only going to cause intestinal unpleasantness. {That was the warning in everything I read, but I tried it anyway.}  I quietly went into the nursery (where eventually that sweet baby never ever slept), and began reading some of the children's books we had neatly tucked into a basket. I prayed. I sang hymns. I acknowledged how scary this whole motherhood thing was that loomed before me.  I felt like I needed to get it right and yet knew nothing about how to do that.  I whispered dreams for this baby to the Author of all dreams.

(this photo tells the story a little more accurately)

 
Its funny how many times, ten years later; I still think those thoughts.  And pray those prayers.  And sing those hymns.  And whisper those dreams.  In the middle of the night.  In the quiet mornings.

I'm grateful that God always meets me in those places.  Ever faithful.  Always ready.

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