I’m feeling the weight of time again.
How I wait and wait until I think I can do it no more, then when the time inches closer to that expected end…I freeze.
I start to think of how things will change.
All this cozy and comfort and familiar is about to morph into something I have absolutely no control over. And maybe that’s just the thing; that unexpected fluttering of my heart and the why of it all…
It’s that I really really…REALLY don’t know what to expect.
I have no clue what to do with everyone once we’re all under one roof. I don’t know if I’ll fall to pieces.
And when the time finally comes that I bear this third child from my body and out into this merciless world, how will I do it? Will there be pain? Will there be fear?
How can I stand it all?
Because once she comes, the others soon will follow…I just know it. And life will be all to familiar and unfamiliar at once.
And when she’s here the clock starts to tick. This I do know. I am way too familiar with how I ache looking at a newborn baby…thinking of all the ways she’ll grow before I’m ready for her to.
Because I look at Zayne and Ethan everyday the same. They change, time passes and in spite of all the familiarity of their faces, I can’t stop how time grows us. One day they won’t be my babies anymore.
My heart bursts and sobs at the thought.
Holding my baby girl, I know I’ll feel the same ache; the same longing. I don’t know why, but my brain skips ahead with certainty to the time when I will be a woman full of memories and time with children passed…I won’t be the center of their universe anymore.
I will miss that.
They will all grow. All 5 of them eventually under this roof. We’ll figure out how to live together as a family after the pain of expansion. Ah, yes…and I will cherish watching them grow from day to day. How painful that words cannot express such a love.
I harbor it deep in my heart, this love. There are moments blended into the monotony of daily life that shine bright with this love.
I take the time to marvel at these children as they run, speak, play, learn, cry, laugh…I’m in awe the entire time. There is something so frustrating about not being able to express fully how I love them each. How I just adore every inch of them. And how blissful it is when I get to lay beside them and watch their faces as they sleep.
What I would give for their minds to grasp how miraculous they are!
I’m so selfish that I want this to go on forever, but I know it can’t…and one day I’ll be a woman of memories, no longer the center.
It’s only a part of me that mourns, because the rest of me knows that life holds joy no matter what stage it’s in. The rest of me believes that God is good in every age. And I wholly am thankful for such a life where I get to be a mother at all.
But tonight, in all honesty, I struggle with the change that’s coming…and I fear it just a little.
I’m afraid of the unknown.
Afraid of letting go of what’s become so familiar; these years so dear to my heart.
Afraid of change in general…and bringing another child into the world who will grow so quickly…
Afraid of the headlong leap we’re about to make when all I can hold onto is this great faith God’s been building inside all these years of waiting.
We wait for 2 to become 5…for 4 to become 7.
I’m taking a little time tonight to acknowledge the reality that there is some fear; some nostalgia. It doesn’t surpass the excitement, but still, it’s there.
And, oh, I am afraid of the uncertainty of labor…that too. Yep.
There are moments when the weight of everything hits me deep. Moments where I mourn the passing of time…the movement…the change…
And then I remind myself to open up wide to the good. The everyday good, no matter what side of the road you’re on… no matter what phase of life you find yourself…what a shame to waste even a day without the cherishing; the finding of joy and squeezing it tight.
Listen. Listen. Listen.
Don’t miss a moment. It changes so fast…even in light of all that’s unexpected.