Anticipation // Preparation // Disappointment
Wrapping presents and cuddling by the fire. Sipping hot chocolate and singing Christmas carols. Attending parties of close friends, near strangers, and everyone in between. Decorating the Christmas tree and filling the house with scents of the holidays. A big part of holidays is not the day of, but the build up to them. Whether it is advent or the 25 days of Christmas count down on ABC family, we all have our ways of preparing for the Christmas season in particular.
I didn't do a lot to prepare for Christmas this year. It didn't sneak up on me or leave me unprepared, but there aren't a lot of traditions that I personally participate in. Perhaps in the years to follow as the kids begin to grow up, we will establish traditions. Traditions are secondary to the true meaning of Christmas. Traditions are secondary to the true meaning of Easter. I pray as we transition from one holiday to preparations for the next that I will keep my heart set on Christ.
Traditions feed into anticipation. We look forward to them in ways that are highly anticipated.
As I approach the preparations for Easter (yes, it's in April... still far away), I also am full of anticipation for the baby boy growing inside me. Much like Christmas, however, it is leaving me feel unprepared. There is not a lot I can do to prepare for a second child right now and the things I can do are leaving me feeling unqualified. I am just getting into a rhythm with the seventeen month old, and now I have to disrupt those patterns with a newborn? I am absolutely terrified. I'm terrified the be the mother of boys (plural). I'm terrified I won't relate to them because I've never been a boy or a man or anything in between. I'm terrified because of the energy they'll take that I already don't have. I'm terrified because all I have to offer them is my love. I'm terrified because I know I will never feel that I am a good enough mother. I'm terrified because I am utterly unprepared. Becoming a parent, I was ready for, but for some reason, this pregnancy seems to lack the decorum that the first one had. I barely look pregnant and I don't feel pregnant (unless he's kicking). My excitement of a second child has gradually declined as the reality of two children sets in. Two boys, none the less.
All babies are blessings, but I thought things would be different by the time the second one came along. All babies are blessings, but I don't feel worthy of that kind blessing right now. My anticipation is chalk full of anxiety. As my one and a half year old wakes up at one in the morning and cries for the subsequent four hours, I wonder how I am going to do sleepless nights when a almost two year old is waking me up and ready to play at 8 in the morning.. Every blessing feels bittersweet. For every answered prayer, we have a dozen unanswered. We want a healthy baby. And I pray every day that God gives us that.
I am insufficient. I am not enough. And I am trying to be okay with that. I am never going to be a good enough mother. I've always held high expectations for myself, but with parenting, there is no progress report or grading scale. It's just getting through the first eighteen years and praying that those years were formative in just the right ways for the next eighty plus years of their life. I am not ever going to be a good enough mother. As I anticipate the arrival of our next son, I pray a lot. I pray that in every way I am insufficient, God is sufficient. I pray that God fills in the gaps in moral teachings that I leave for my children. I pray that He provides for them because on my own I am drowning. I cannot even see the surface without Him.
Even as a cling to the Lord, I still feel the water pressing up against my lungs. The suffocating emptiness of unanswered prayers and silence at quiet times leaves me asking again and again , Lord, carry me through. Once bobbing slowly in shallow waters, I now am taking on more water than I know what to do with. The waters are deep and I am underwater. My chest aches as the time without oxygen increases. I just want a deep breath. My body craves a reprieve and yet for every shallow breath the Lord pulls me out of the water for, I am pushed back in further by the worries and issues we are facing.
Why? I beg as the pressure increases, but the deafening silence of the water dampens my senses and crushes my spirits. The longer I am under the more I wonder if there is an end. How much water do I have to take on before I am a limp body on a sandy beach? I know the Lord hears me, but I wonder when He will respond. I know he is faithful, but I wonder how much more we must endure. I know he is Good, but when will it get better? I know it gets better. I know He will respond. I know He loves me. But I don't know why now.
I didn't do a lot to prepare for Christmas this year. It didn't sneak up on me or leave me unprepared, but there aren't a lot of traditions that I personally participate in. Perhaps in the years to follow as the kids begin to grow up, we will establish traditions. Traditions are secondary to the true meaning of Christmas. Traditions are secondary to the true meaning of Easter. I pray as we transition from one holiday to preparations for the next that I will keep my heart set on Christ.
Traditions feed into anticipation. We look forward to them in ways that are highly anticipated.
As I approach the preparations for Easter (yes, it's in April... still far away), I also am full of anticipation for the baby boy growing inside me. Much like Christmas, however, it is leaving me feel unprepared. There is not a lot I can do to prepare for a second child right now and the things I can do are leaving me feeling unqualified. I am just getting into a rhythm with the seventeen month old, and now I have to disrupt those patterns with a newborn? I am absolutely terrified. I'm terrified the be the mother of boys (plural). I'm terrified I won't relate to them because I've never been a boy or a man or anything in between. I'm terrified because of the energy they'll take that I already don't have. I'm terrified because all I have to offer them is my love. I'm terrified because I know I will never feel that I am a good enough mother. I'm terrified because I am utterly unprepared. Becoming a parent, I was ready for, but for some reason, this pregnancy seems to lack the decorum that the first one had. I barely look pregnant and I don't feel pregnant (unless he's kicking). My excitement of a second child has gradually declined as the reality of two children sets in. Two boys, none the less.
I am insufficient. I am not enough. And I am trying to be okay with that. I am never going to be a good enough mother. I've always held high expectations for myself, but with parenting, there is no progress report or grading scale. It's just getting through the first eighteen years and praying that those years were formative in just the right ways for the next eighty plus years of their life. I am not ever going to be a good enough mother. As I anticipate the arrival of our next son, I pray a lot. I pray that in every way I am insufficient, God is sufficient. I pray that God fills in the gaps in moral teachings that I leave for my children. I pray that He provides for them because on my own I am drowning. I cannot even see the surface without Him.
Even as a cling to the Lord, I still feel the water pressing up against my lungs. The suffocating emptiness of unanswered prayers and silence at quiet times leaves me asking again and again , Lord, carry me through. Once bobbing slowly in shallow waters, I now am taking on more water than I know what to do with. The waters are deep and I am underwater. My chest aches as the time without oxygen increases. I just want a deep breath. My body craves a reprieve and yet for every shallow breath the Lord pulls me out of the water for, I am pushed back in further by the worries and issues we are facing.
Why? I beg as the pressure increases, but the deafening silence of the water dampens my senses and crushes my spirits. The longer I am under the more I wonder if there is an end. How much water do I have to take on before I am a limp body on a sandy beach? I know the Lord hears me, but I wonder when He will respond. I know he is faithful, but I wonder how much more we must endure. I know he is Good, but when will it get better? I know it gets better. I know He will respond. I know He loves me. But I don't know why now.
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