Renewal

I love being a mother.
I love that my son smiles and coos and exists.
I love that my daughter is smart and sassy and loving and kind.
I love being a mother.

But I am their entire world.
And that is exhausting.

My son is dependent on my body for his very survival. Every hard-earned ounce on his frame came from me. I made it. And I fought him for it. I still fight him for it.

My daughter makes me the arbiter of every dispute, betrayal, question, and thought that crosses her mind. The other night she was cuddling with W and he fell asleep (as fathers do) and his muscles twitched (as muscles do) and she got flapped in the face. And I had to console her. And put her back to sleep.

And this meant that my son, who was eating, could no longer eat. I had to give my all to my daughter. And since he had to wait, he was inconsolable.

And since he was inconsolable, I had to cut my time short with my daughter. Who went to bed thinking, a little, like she was not the most important person in my life.

But she is. Except when her brother is.

Her brother who will not sleep unless he is either in my arms or on my breast. And I am not going to train him to sleep otherwise while he is still so small. Because he is the most important thing in my life, and I need him to grow and thrive.

And my daughter can't thrive without my love and attention, either. Because she has been my world for five years. And I am not going to train her to be otherwise while she is still so small. Because she is the most important thing in my life, and I need her to grow and thrive.

Except that the real most important thing in my life is my husband. And I can't bear the thought of being without him all of the time.

But there is a baby in my bed and a big girl in my bed. And the space between us is filled with these tiny beings who are so demanding. And to whom attention must be paid.

And maybe I am doing this all wrong. Maybe I need to remember the time that the most important thing in my life was God. And I need to pay the attention to Him. And if I do so, maybe He will make my arms wide enough for both of my children, and more beyond those who are living with us right now. Maybe He will make my body able to feed my son while it succors my daughter emotionally. Maybe He will close the gap between my husband and I, the gap filled with children and toys and feet and exhaustion and service and jobs and desperation. And He, who gave me these children, each honest miracles, will give me the ability to raise them into the people He needs them to be. And will give me the ability to raise myself into the woman He needs me to be.

I think I can do this now.