First of all, thanks for all the comments, emails, texts and prayers you offered up on "L's" behalf. I do not know her personally, but through a very close friend. I know that your prayers have not gone unheard. I appreciate it so much more than y'all know. Once more, you guys have blessed me.
It's 11:27pm as I sit here and write this. Baby #6 is doing somersaults in my belly and I have pulled my shirt up to watch my stretch-marked skin roll and jump. Although I never show off my belly to anyone other than my husband and I often look at it with disgust and disdain, tonight I am loving watching this Baby move.
And, it's made me wonder...
I am so quick to hate this body of mine. I hate these stretch marks more than just about anything. I joke around and say that I look like a cat has sharpened his claws all over the front of my body. Seriously, from my boobs to my mid-thigh I have stretch marks and scars from the three children I've carried in my womb.
And what about this extra weight I'm carrying? I mean, I played volleyball on scholarship in college. I was a student-athlete. I'm not claiming to have been the world's best volleyball player and I was certainly not good enough to venture into a Division 1 gym and hold my own. But still, I was decent and I had a pretty good body back in the day.
I worked out for about 3 hours a day, how could I not have been in great shape?
And now, motherhood has moved in and taken up residence in place of the girl I once knew. I weigh a good 40 lbs more than I did in college (that's pre-pregnancy people). My face is beginning to show signs that I'm no longer a 20-something. I can't remember the last time I put on a pair of jeans and thought..."dang, I look good."
I've never been one to care much about wearing make up but now I look at myself and think, "maybe just a touch of something so I don't look quite so bad."
And I wonder...
What is the alternative? What's the opposite side of this coin? Because of what I'm evolving into, does that mean I desire my life to be something else? Am I less than what I could have been because I've succumbed to the life of "just a Mom?"
What could I have been like or what could I have done if I had remained the girl I once was?
Sure, I love being with my kids. I love watching Elizabeth get up from her spelling, walk across the room, hug Baby Girl and then come back to her writing tablet as if it's completely normal for a 5.5 year old to love a 14 month old that much. And I love that Baby Girl follows her back to the table just so she can play on the floor near her oldest sister.
I love to hear Lucas and Ashlee have an in-depth conversation on whether a pig could actually bite a person. I love the looks on their faces when I affirm that a pig can, in fact, bite a person. And, just yesterday, I loved the debate that ensued as they discussed whether or not a pig could ever eat a person and how many bites it might take.
I love watching Aaron dance to any music that he hears. Be it the hum of his siblings, the start up jingle on the computer or that stupid dog that someonewhoshallremainnameless got us that never shuts up and squeals "Hug me AGAIN!" just when I think he has lost interest.
I love it all.
But I look at myself in the mirror and I wonder where the Me is that used to live behind this face. I wonder what happened to the girl who loved riding down the road, wind in her hair, belting out her favorite song. I wonder what happened to the girl with awesome weekend plans involving new and exciting adventures. I wonder what happened to the Me who had few responsibilities and hardly any cares. I wonder where the Me went that could pick up and go and live on little plans and not worry about what we were eating for dinner tonight.
And somehow, I think that girl is still alive somewhere within me. But, she's grown up quite a bit. She's traded wind in her hair and her favorite song for a passenger van's air conditioning on her face and her favorite kids in the back seat(s) singing the same song for the 18th time.
That girl has traded weekend adventures for backyard fun, soccer games at 9am and morning cartoons, cuddled with her favorite people.
That girl has gained responsibilities a many but blessings that abound. She's traded ever-ready for ready-whenever-I-finish-changing-this-diaper.
And you know what? I think if I had shown that girl the life that this woman now has, she would have been blown away. She would have looked at it and laughed wondering how in the heck this life could even compare to that one.
That girl would wonder how this woman could possibly love diapers and dishwashers and Dora. That girl would dread the days that this woman looks forward to.
That girl would always wonder if this was her last day of freedom while this woman knows that real freedom is in what she already has.
And I realize that God doesn't give us glimpses into our far reaching futures for a reason. Because sometimes, the blessings He has in store for this girl might just scare her out of becoming that woman she never even knew she wanted to be.
It's 11:27pm as I sit here and write this. Baby #6 is doing somersaults in my belly and I have pulled my shirt up to watch my stretch-marked skin roll and jump. Although I never show off my belly to anyone other than my husband and I often look at it with disgust and disdain, tonight I am loving watching this Baby move.
And, it's made me wonder...
I am so quick to hate this body of mine. I hate these stretch marks more than just about anything. I joke around and say that I look like a cat has sharpened his claws all over the front of my body. Seriously, from my boobs to my mid-thigh I have stretch marks and scars from the three children I've carried in my womb.
And what about this extra weight I'm carrying? I mean, I played volleyball on scholarship in college. I was a student-athlete. I'm not claiming to have been the world's best volleyball player and I was certainly not good enough to venture into a Division 1 gym and hold my own. But still, I was decent and I had a pretty good body back in the day.
I worked out for about 3 hours a day, how could I not have been in great shape?
And now, motherhood has moved in and taken up residence in place of the girl I once knew. I weigh a good 40 lbs more than I did in college (that's pre-pregnancy people). My face is beginning to show signs that I'm no longer a 20-something. I can't remember the last time I put on a pair of jeans and thought..."dang, I look good."
I've never been one to care much about wearing make up but now I look at myself and think, "maybe just a touch of something so I don't look quite so bad."
And I wonder...
What is the alternative? What's the opposite side of this coin? Because of what I'm evolving into, does that mean I desire my life to be something else? Am I less than what I could have been because I've succumbed to the life of "just a Mom?"
What could I have been like or what could I have done if I had remained the girl I once was?
Sure, I love being with my kids. I love watching Elizabeth get up from her spelling, walk across the room, hug Baby Girl and then come back to her writing tablet as if it's completely normal for a 5.5 year old to love a 14 month old that much. And I love that Baby Girl follows her back to the table just so she can play on the floor near her oldest sister.
I love to hear Lucas and Ashlee have an in-depth conversation on whether a pig could actually bite a person. I love the looks on their faces when I affirm that a pig can, in fact, bite a person. And, just yesterday, I loved the debate that ensued as they discussed whether or not a pig could ever eat a person and how many bites it might take.
I love watching Aaron dance to any music that he hears. Be it the hum of his siblings, the start up jingle on the computer or that stupid dog that someonewhoshallremainnameless got us that never shuts up and squeals "Hug me AGAIN!" just when I think he has lost interest.
I love it all.
But I look at myself in the mirror and I wonder where the Me is that used to live behind this face. I wonder what happened to the girl who loved riding down the road, wind in her hair, belting out her favorite song. I wonder what happened to the girl with awesome weekend plans involving new and exciting adventures. I wonder what happened to the Me who had few responsibilities and hardly any cares. I wonder where the Me went that could pick up and go and live on little plans and not worry about what we were eating for dinner tonight.
And somehow, I think that girl is still alive somewhere within me. But, she's grown up quite a bit. She's traded wind in her hair and her favorite song for a passenger van's air conditioning on her face and her favorite kids in the back seat(s) singing the same song for the 18th time.
That girl has traded weekend adventures for backyard fun, soccer games at 9am and morning cartoons, cuddled with her favorite people.
That girl has gained responsibilities a many but blessings that abound. She's traded ever-ready for ready-whenever-I-finish-changing-this-diaper.
And you know what? I think if I had shown that girl the life that this woman now has, she would have been blown away. She would have looked at it and laughed wondering how in the heck this life could even compare to that one.
That girl would wonder how this woman could possibly love diapers and dishwashers and Dora. That girl would dread the days that this woman looks forward to.
That girl would always wonder if this was her last day of freedom while this woman knows that real freedom is in what she already has.
And I realize that God doesn't give us glimpses into our far reaching futures for a reason. Because sometimes, the blessings He has in store for this girl might just scare her out of becoming that woman she never even knew she wanted to be.