I’m trying to write. But I also have a four year old who has asked me three questions in the time it has taken me to open my browser and begin typing. I’m asked questions, told stories. I’ve heard the same sentences over and over, because my boys have a tendency to believe that I don’t hear them the first time (which, might be true, considering I am good at tuning them out). They want me to see everything, to behold the creations they make with their Legos, see their drawings/scribbles, watch their newest “trick”. I am their favorite audience, a role I take for granted almost every hour.
If I haven’t seen you in a while (i.e. since before Finn was born), you’ve probably asked me, “So, are you done having kids?” I answer with, “We’ll see! We have time to decide later on if we want to have another.” Which often follows up with you saying, “Gotta try for that girl!” It’s a conversation I’ve had so many times that I could probably tell you what you’re going to say before you even say it.
Having kids has been my favorite part of life so far. I had my dental hygienist, who is the same age as me, tell me she couldn’t imagine having three kids right now. Everything in life is different for everyone. Every time someone asks me if we’re done, I want to say, “NO! The babies! They’re the most eye-opening experience of my life!” It’s hard to say what the future holds, and I don’t want to be the one to decide it, if I’m being frank.
It gets tricky, having kids. Some people struggle to have children of their own, and I have the luxury of deciding for myself however many I want. It feels selfish for me to take for granted such a gift, to decide on my own terms the rules of my own child-bearing, when to stop, how many to have. It’s a luxury some cannot afford. I don’t want to take this responsibility lightly. It leaves me thinking about how much I actually trust God. Myself along with everyone else who calls themselves “normal” thinks it’s “abnormal” to have tons of children. But what if God calls us to high, crazy places? What does it truly look like to trust Him, especially in this?
What’s amazing is that the quality of my motherhood does not change. I am a mother, a good one, because I was given children. That isn’t a toot of my own horn; that’s truth. God gave me children because He so trusted me. (I know, right? I tend to think He’s out of His mind for giving me one at all.) What’s amazing is that the love of a mother can multiply as her children do. What’s amazing is that He trusts us. He allows us to make choices. And maybe it’s just me, but motherhood feels like a choice that propels me into a free fall of faith, a floating and flying that allows me to give up my fear of living up to an expectation. Before I knew my boys, I didn’t know how much God was capable. The minute they arrived, He created another island in my soul where so much of His beauty manifests, so much of all that He could and can do, came to life.
This month, my oldest starts preschool. My stomach lurched when I saw the date on the calendar, because it seriously feels like yesterday that I was snuggling my firstborn on the couch, scared out of my mind because I was a first time mom. The best thing I can do is let motherhood change me in the great ways. To let it teach me about faith and trust and knowing that God has their lives in their palm, just as He has my own. And just like when I started writing, my attention is needed for my boys. They’re asking me multiple questions again, telling me stories, wanting to show me their chalk drawings on the patio. I’ll go, I’ll give them my all, because they have a whole lifetime ahead of them. Thanks for making a mother out of me, boys.