I think that the desperate desire to find God immediately after Justin's seizure was intimately related to the fact that a few weeks later, I became the mother of three children that were officially outside of my body.
When I had one baby, I was scared because I didn't have any idea what I was doing. But I had time and it was really fun. I was mildly panicked because I wanted to do it well, but I was reveling in the realization that my heart had doubled it's capacity to love in about 2 milliseconds. That was nuts. I kept waiting for it to go back to normal...waiting for me to become the self-centered person I'd always been. But it was permanent. The day after Chase was born, I couldn't remember what was important to me before I laid eyes on him. I still can't.
When I had two babies (21 months apart), I started to panic more because I still wanted to do it really well and I started to get overwhelmed. Two kids in diapers? Two kids in cribs? Two part time jobs? I put a lot of pressure on myself, trying to be all things to all people and working 48 hours a week while trying to convince myself that I was only working part time (since 20 of those hours were at night). I ended up sucking at both being a mom and being an employee. And my seizure disorder got worse. Basically I was mildly awful at everything I did, mostly because I was working at 200% of my capacity. I hit a brick wall with the seizures, reduced my hours and found balance. I had been the one ruining myself, so I just stopped....easy enough.
So when Adelai was born, one year ago today, I was overjoyed. I really was. I love being a mother to each one of these children.
But. I have not woken up a single day of the past 365 days without feeling the heavy weight of being a mother of 3 children, 4 and under. It is the sense of having a hundred balls in the air, and they are all falling down and all that I can do is try.
The message constantly running through my mind from the day of Justin's seizure was this: these are God's babies. He knows exactly how to care for them. I've got nothing.
So I went and found me some Jesus.
But it doesn't mean that the balls aren't falling out of the sky. Put another way, if you've ever done a squat with free weights, it's the sense that you have a load on your shoulders that is excruciatingly heavy but your tasked with a rep of four to six. And you can feel the weight all the way into your feet because the weight is overwhelming, and your whole body is shaking...but you keep going. The only thing you can really do is focus on your form and hope that your spotter is paying attention.
The only thing that helps me is knowing that I'm not the one holding up this weight either.
So I've stopped watching TV and I've immersed myself in scripture. It's all I've got. And it's enough. He is enough. And it steadies the panic in my heart and I'm on solid ground. I don't think a psych admission is in order. At least not right now.
It's intriguing to me that I'm the most blessed I have ever been - I have a family I dearly love - but I look like I've been hit by a bus almost every day. For 365 days, I've thought to myself each morning "it's okay if I look trashed today. It's just one day, right?"
One year later.....I'm understanding why moms have a reputation for wearing bizarre clothes, looking exasperated and desperate. I've yet to brush my teeth in the car, but I get it. I finally get it.
Anyway. My point escapes me. I guess I'm saying that having three kids has been really tough. I love them so much. They are the only people on the planet that could push me this far past my own abilities. Because believe me, I have been pushed beyond my abilities....emotionally, physically, spiritually, financially, you name it.
But, I've learned to focus on my form. And I'm trusting my spotter. And I believe with my whole heart that when these babies are raised up, I'll finally be able to put the weight down and I'll see that God was raising me up, too.
