Friday, January 22, 2010

Waste of an Evening

Those words or something like that were the words uttered by Mr. Hurst in Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice in regards to the social outing of a country ball. These words are also the way I know that my husband and I often feel depending on how our night has gone.

A non-waste of an evening would go something like this:

The baby goes to sleep at 8 p.m. and stays asleep a minimum of two hours without needing a pat on the back or rocking. Our older son is asleep by 10 without an argument or pleading for more reading and cuddling. My hubby and I catch up on the couch to watch our favorite DVRed shows or (gasp) a movie!

However, most of our evenings go one of about three ways:

1) If the baby happens to sleep, the older son will not and therefore cries, fusses, and pleads to be in cuddled in which case one of us (usually me) falls asleep with him while putting him to bed. 2) If by chance the older one goes to sleep in a reasonable amount of time and I have not fallen asleep with him, the baby will cry within thirty minutes, and I will fall asleep putting him back to sleep. 3) On the rare night in which both boys go to sleep reasonably, I am usually dying to get to bed and enjoy as much uninterrupted rest as possible before the inevitable happens of the baby waking up because he will then typically wake every hour or two from then on.

And so I sit here tonight at 10 p.m., with the baby asleep in his crib, my hubby reading/cuddling our preschooler, a thunderstorm rattling outside, an episode of Two and a Half Men paused on the DVR in hopes of being watched, and I write to fill my mind with exercise and some form of relaxation. But for my hubby and me, it is turning into a typical “waste of an evening.”

P.S. Then the lights went out.

Friday, January 15, 2010

Celebrating Motherhood

Today is the fourth anniversary of my becoming a mother. I remember the labor and delivery like it was yesterday, except for some drug inhibited patches. And despite doing my best to go it without drugs, God bless the epidural at the end. The epidural in both of my labors seemed to jump me into light speed for dilation and my babies were delivered within an hour of its taking effect. But let's not get into that aspect of becoming a mother.

The real celebration is of the first time I held my baby boy. I watched as they took him to the table right beside me, checked him out, and cleaned him up. I remember I kept asking, “is he healthy? Is he okay?” Due to some scares we had gone through personally as well as with family, all my mind could focus on was his health. All reports came back healthy and strong. He was 21 ¼ inches long and weighed 8 lbs. and 10 ounces. We called him the sitcom baby because he looked already a month old at least.

Then they laid him in my arms…I have loved people in my life—my parents, my wonderful husband, other family members and friends; I have also lost people and thought I had felt the deepness of my love when they were lost, but this was…utopian love!

My husband spoke of utopian love when we dated. The kind of love that is endless and unconditional. But honestly, I thought that love was only the kind that God could give. I mean I have always done my best to offer my husband that kind of love, and I do love him unconditionally most of the time. But to love another human being so much that your heart physically hurts when they hurt, you can’t breathe when they fall, you become completely selfless when taking care of them, and you discover patience that you never knew you had, who does this? A mother does.

Now four years later, I still love him as much as I did the moment he was placed in my arms, probably more. Because even through the stubborness, the tantrums, and the constant barrage of questions, all he has to do is look at me, and I know that motherhood is a truly glorious thing. In these four years, that love for him has also taught me to love others more deeply.

My husband and I will celebrate ten years of marriage this summer, and I can truthfully say that I love him more everyday, and I cherish each kiss and embrace more now than ever (possibly because there is so little time for us that each moment seems like a miracle in itself). He is wonderful and undoubtedly completes me. His love, friendship, and partnership are exactly what my mother told me marriage should be. I just wish she were here to see all this. I’ve also learned to love another precious baby boy, and I honestly didn’t how my heart would expand enough for more love in my life, but it has and his giggle is infectious.

So, today, I celebrate my motherhood and I toast all those mothers and fathers who have learned more about love through the life, eyes, and embrace of a child… may we keep these feelings and sentiments close to our hearts when we have to face the teen years!