Tuesday, April 1, 2014

Post Partum and My Girls

These days, my girls each represent something different to me.

Hallie is my hope.  She is the reminder that children grow up, that each day is a new day.  That day is filled with potential for learning and growing.  As sad as I feel every morning when I watch her tiny little body walking away from the car, her huge backpack bouncing as she goes, she reminds me that they don't stay babies and toddlers forever.  As cute and precious as they are at that age, it is nice to be reminded that the sleepless nights and crazy days will someday come to an end.  On that day, I know that I will cry, and I will rejoice.  Hallie brings me hope.

Hanna is my purpose.  She needs me for something more than just food and comfort.  She needs me to teach her things, real things like reading and writing and how to say thank you and I'm sorry.  She needs me to tell her why that man is in a wheelchair, or why that woman has smoke coming out of her mouth.  She helps me see that being a mom is more than just feeding and holding and driving.  As important as those things are, and they are very important, sometimes my soul asks, "what else?"  Hanna brings me purpose.

Heather is my joy.  She is at my favorite age right now, their bodies and minds are still so much like a baby's, but are every day stretching more and more into being like a big kid.  Her little legs, her little bum, her little cheeks and smile and crazy hair.  Especially though the extremely dark days of February, Heather pulled me again and again and helped me remember to smile.  Heather brings me joy.

Hazel is my peace, my safe place.  When I begin to feel lost inside, holding Hazel and taking deep breaths helps me remember to slow down.  Relax.  Tomorrow is a new day, and I don't have to do it all today.  I can enjoy her while she's little, because there are only so many tomorrows before she is as big as Hallie.  And then bigger.  When I hold Hazel I don't have to be perfect.  All I have to do is feed her when she's hungry, change her when she's messy, and kiss her soft cheeks when I need to.  Hazel brings me peace.

February was bad.  March was a little better.  I know that April will be even better yet.  My girls get me through each day, in their own ways, and I am so grateful to them.  I hope they never remember those days when we watched hours of Curious George and mommy smelled really, really bad.  But if they do remember, I hope they remember mostly that they brought me back to hope, purpose, joy, and peace.  They reminded me of who I am on days when, left on my own, all I felt was confusion and despair.

Devin helped too, but I already wrote that post.

2 comments:

  1. You express things so beautifully. Thank you for sharing and for saying it for those of us, like me, who aren't as eloquent.

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  2. I'm very glad that you share your feelings. I love you.

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