I always knew I would be a Mama someday. I had a million baby dolls, and I cared for them like it was my job. My cabbage patch kid was better cared for than our own flesh and blood babies, I think. Even so, when the pregnancy test turned out positive in our little bathroom on Miami Street in Park Forest, I cried. I'm slightly embarrassed to admit they were not tears of joy, but tears of sadness and fear. My first words to Tim were, "Now we can NEVER go to the movies!". I eventually transitioned to excitement over the next few months, but, if I'm honest, I was dreading the loss of freedom just a little bit.
Well, of course, we have managed to go to the movies plenty of times over the last fifteen years, and, of course, I wouldn't trade these boys for anything in the wide whole world. They are fun, exhausting, hilarious, stinky, loud, adventurous, creative, maddening, and so much more. Their presence in my life makes me a better person, a better woman, a better follower of Jesus.
As I reflect, though, on those initial thoughts in that tiny, palm-tree-tiled bathroom on Miami Street, I am reminded that many of the freedoms we enjoyed as young marrieds DID disappear with the birth of Isaac, and then even more-so when Ezra and Simon came along. Losing some freedom isn't all bad though. These children have pulled me out of myself. It is difficult to focus only on what I want when a crying baby is hungry. Sitting and reading a book for three hours is nearly impossible when siblings need help with negotiations.. I can't only think of my agenda when there are three basketball games to get to in a weekend. My new shoes often get put on hold when the middle guy has outgrown his shoes AGAIN. They pull me out of myself, these boys. Their very existence reminds me that it is truly NOT all about me. For me, this is yet another reminder that the gifts in our lives, whatever they may be, come from the Father and are carefully orchestrated to make us more like him.
I remain grateful for these three gifts. Thank you, boys, for the daily reminder that it is not all about me. I love you. Love, Mama