There's something about holidays and being a mom that I find both invigorating and frustrating--I always build them up in my mind. It seems like there is this pressure, maybe it has to do with the social media craze of our time or its just part of the job, but I'm always hoping for a beautiful perfect day. The thing that I've come to realize, and, I'm sure, will increasingly recognize it that there is no such thing as the perfect day. But there are perfect moments. I had several on Mother's Day. Snuggling on the bed (okay, and totally posing) when Shaye snapped this picture was one of them. Look at my babies' faces. So perfect. How on earth did I get so lucky? I had more sweet moments thinking about my own incredible mother and all of the women in my family who have led by example. And then I have quiet moments of gratitude and a bit of sadness, thinking about the pain I used to feel on this day and the pain that I know so many infertile women are still feeling.
It always comes back to me. This intense gratitude when I look at my children. I mean, they could have so easily never come at all. The mother's days before Emme were tough. Trying to conceive, I just felt so isolated and spent the day questioning why God didn't think I was ready to be a mom. On this day especially, I would catalogue the things I thought I needed to learn before I could take on this unbelievably sacred calling. Looking at myself now, I'm pretty sure I am just as imperfect as before, but I do have a deep measure of gratitude that I know I would not have otherwise had.
When it comes down to it, motherhood is a messy, creative, tiring, inspiring, boring, exhausting, heartwarming, laugh until you cry, spiritually enriching job. It's the best thing I've ever done. I knew I'd feel profound love for my kids, especially with the burden I carried in the years before they came, but I'm still surprised sometimes at how my love for them overwhelms me.
But even with this overwhelming love I feel, I still fall short every day. I get frustrated and lose my temper. I don't enrich our time like I could and should. I stare at my phone for too long. I get stressed about things that don't matter. I look up and realize my house is an utter disaster. That's been my greatest disappointment with motherhood--myself. But then I try and remember that there is no user's manual for this job. It is one that has to come from the depths of my soul, and my soul is flawed, as well-meaning as I am.
Sometimes when I'm cleaning a blowout or closet eating in a stressful moment or trying to keep Emme from poking Hudson in the eye or nursing Hudson at 3 a.m., I think about my own mother. There were FIVE of us. She did all of this for me. Her mom before her did and so on. It is the glorious chain that we are all a part of. It may be made up of lots of little necessarily mundane moments, but the end results couldn't be more important--nurturing young souls.
So I hold onto that gratitude and try to enjoy all the simple things and all the monotony. I try to love myself after those moments of falling short, even though I drive myself crazy. I'm just so grateful for a Savior who partners with me to render this glorious work. Peeking through those mundane moments, there are many sacred ones that transcend space and time. Hudson's hand on my face as he gazes into my eyes. Emme's sweet voice, "I loz you, Mommy!" or "Thankee, mommy!" The serenity of watching them in slumber, so trusting that we'll be there to watch over them. Hearing "Jesus loz me," as I kneel in prayer with Emme. I know that the love and sense of purpose I feel are eternal--that my spirit could never be removed from theirs. In those moments, I plead for help to be a little better and to have the capacity to appreciate every moment.
I often feel like I have no clue what I'm doing. But motherhood--it was worth the wait...times a million!
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