Lying in bed with my daughter cuddled next to me. I wrap a blanket around me and inch away. Touched out and tired. Need some solo time. But she feels the absence of her warm mama and cries out, her arms and legs frantically wiggling. Don’t leave me Mama!
“Enjoy this time.”
“It goes by so fast”
“You will blink and it will be over.”
Say the moms of teens.
So I press back in, letting her embrace me.
Short but intense, so intense is the baby year. Like the wind in your face on a motorcycle ride. Cherishing the adventure while also just trying to stay alive.
Flash back to the labour room. A contraction would come, a rest, and then another one. I wanted to run away from my own body. Powerful waves of life, pressing, squeezing, refining. No way around but through.
And so I lie in my bed and wonder how to go through?
How do I treasure the moments when I want to run away?
I write a poem:
The road to life is narrow, paved with stones of trial. But if you look close enough you will find that the stones are gold.
Curves and switchbacks, head is spinning. What time is it? Did I put the laundry in the dryer?
Dirty dishes, dirty diapers, dirty sink, dirty toes are the very things that scrub my heart clean.
At the end of the road to life is a garden filled with fruit trees.
Love, joy, peace, PATIENCE, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self control.
The seed is the Spirit of Jesus whispering, “you can…” “I am with you”
This fruit does not grow in sunshine alone.
Oh no, the juice so sweet is transformed raindrops, drawn from the roots in good soil.
The refreshing green of the meadow comes from a cloudy day.
And in my meadow I play with my bright, joyful, talented flower,
the fruit of my womb bearing fruit in my soul.
“The wolf also shall dwell with the lamb,
The leopard shall lie down with the young goat,
The calf and the young lion and the fatling together;
And a little child shall lead them….” (Isaiah 11:6 NKJV).
Along the road that leads to life.