A Mother’s Love: What I’m learning from the teacher.

I seem to open several posts in this manner, time has passed so fast once again! Last week Addisyn turned 11 months old. ELEVEN months old! I’ve been busy planning her first birthday party, which seems surreal. How can my baby be getting ready to turn ONE?

During the past 11 months, I have grown and learned so much. I have found my life holds more passion than ever before. I’ve cried with more emotion, I’ve laughed with more inflection, and I’ve smiled with a happier heart than I have in a long time. Addisyn has taught me so much. She has taught me what a selfless love is. She has made and taught me how to be a mother. Along with that territory comes learning to accept that some days it’s noon, and you’re still in yesterday’s yoga pants. That’s right. And they probably have some sort of foreign item clinging to them that isn’t supposed to be there. But you know what? We don’t care. We, as in mothers, we don’t care! Most days, we wouldn’t have it any other way.

I am so thankful that I get to be home with Addisyn and experience her grow and change each day. There are days that I’m openly jealous about my husband’s 15 minute commute to work, because it’s 30 minutes a day he just gets to sit down. However, I wouldn’t trade my day to day with this girl at all. I’ve learned more in the 11 months of being a mother than I did in the 28 previous years during which I acquired three degrees and worked professionally outside the home. I’ve learned what a mother’s love truly is.

Addisyn is perfect. She is. And so is your child. You know what I’m talking about Moms. They’re just perfect. You look at them and smile, regardless. Whether they’re sleeping serenely, or just dumped half their dinner on the floor; they are perfect. Perfect for you, perfect for your family; perfect the way they are right now and the way they will be in the future. Perfect doesn’t mean easy. This kind of perfect in regards to your children also means challenging, stubborn, hardheaded, and well… let’s just say…unpleasant at times. Even still, through it all, they are perfect. Am I right?

I have tried to really slow down and embrace the time that I have with my daughter recently. Hence the missing blog posts. There is just NOT enough time in the day. My days are full. Full of wonderful things, but full none the less. I am blessed, beyond measure, I in no way am complaining. It just means that a few blog posts that flash across my brain never actually make it to the computer screen. During this period of focusing on embracing my time with Addisyn, I’ve reflected on what she’s taught me this past year. I now have a new appreciation for my mother, for all mothers.

When I was 16 years old, after being severely sick for several weeks, doctors found a tumor on my right ovary. I remember waiting with my mother at the appointment for the biopsy results. What I remember most about that appointment is not my own fear, but the fear I saw reflected in my mother’s eyes. She tried her best to be a cool cucumber, but that’s not her strength when it comes to her girls. And now… more years than I would like to think have passed since that moment, and I am just learning how truly scared she was, because of how strongly moms are made. It was the summer before my senior year of high school, and surgery wasn’t high on my list, but days later there I was. We got to the hospital early, and my mother began immediately vomiting. The only cause for her sickness, was my impending surgery and the stress that brought on her. I remember my sister talking about how my mother was sick the entire time that I was in surgery. At the time, I didn’t understand how this was possible, I wasn’t even ill. But she was, because that’s how strong a mother’s love is. She may or may not have let my future husband collapse in the floor after giving blood that day also, actually stepping away from him thinking he was joking… but that’s our little secret, right mom?

What I love most about Addisyn is also what I fear most about Addisyn. Her determination. It doesn’t matter if she falls three times trying to accomplish a new task, rest assured she will succeed on her next attempt or she won’t stop. (This was fun when she learned how to climb stairs a few months ago!) Her determination and persistence scares me as her mother. A mothers love is powerful. It is a connection that has no end. It is a bond that is tied together with strands of excitement, fear, and an overwhelming unconditional love. I’ve learned there will always be fears. Fear when Addisyn does something new, fear when she doesn’t do something new, fear when she tries a first food, doesn’t take a nap, gets a bit more courageous than I would like, etc. There will always be fears. These fears as a mother will morph into different and new kinds of fears. This love that I have for who she is will continue to grow and consume every ounce of me. My dreams are no longer my own, they are for her. My desires are no longer my own, it is only how I can make things better for her. I live and breathe my daughter already. I was destined to be her mother, and that’s exactly what I’m content doing. No amount of education, or degrees, that I have received prepared me for the greatest job title I will ever hold: mother. I wouldn’t trade any amount of sleep, warm meals eaten in one sitting, or uninterrupted showers for a single second with my girl. (And you know you feel the same way about your little one, no matter how big they are!) A mother’s love does not end. That love is not broken. That love does not go away, even in death. It persists… it continues.

Holding Addisyn exactly a month before her first birthday, in her room with only the glow of her nightlight I couldn’t help but cry like a baby myself. It dawned on me that this… this is my drug. This is my addiction. 100 years of holding her this way would not be enough, and these moments are fleeting. I grieve for these fleeting moments, and grieve in a new way for my mother, and all mothers who have had to part with their children too soon. There is no explanation. There are no words to make that better. What I do know… is that God has the grace to see you through; even though our human minds will never be able to understand or process that loss. That is the problem with life, we feel like we are entitled to the gifts that God gives us. My selfish human nature felt entitled to have those moments that I will never experience with my sister. In reality, we sadly find we are not entitled to or promised anything, and that hurts too. It is only by God’s immeasurable grace that we are worth any value at all. And only by that grace that we will be able to bear the pain and emerge from the trials in this life.

I do not know how many days I have left with my daughter, but I know that I will spend each one pouring myself into her, to make her life better. I knew becoming a parent meant that I had a lot to learn. I did not know that my daughter would be my greatest teacher, and she isn’t even one yet. She rocks. Children rock. Moms rock. Here’s to all the moms surviving the first year or the 50th year. Good job, mom!