Painful Joy

I've heard the quote (usually embroidered on a pillow) that says, “Making the decision to have a child is momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body.” I didn't really understand that fully before becoming a mom. It's strange how you can love someone so much to the point that it hurts you. Each new step is a little death of the child that grew inside you for nine months. I felt this for the first time when my son's umbilical cord stump fell off. I felt an emptiness inside knowing that the last sign of his physical connection to me was gone. I felt this again this week as we transitioned from the bassinet to the crib. I was excited to transform our bedroom from nursery back to grownup status, and I spent a couple hours cleaning and restoring the room to the way it was pre-baby. When I crawled into bed that night, I realized that my baby wouldn't be within arm's reach. All the little things we did to prepare for him were put away...the little lantern that we used during the night to check on him, the parenting magazines that I looked at during late night nursing sessions, and the pile of pillows I needed to prop myself up with so as not to fall asleep while I nursed. Logically, this is silly; we live in apartment that puts his crib within five yards of our bedroom door. I can still hear every whimper and coo. But there's something in my heart that had to let go this week, and I fear that there are many, many similar days in my future. But isn't that why we have children? We don't go through this major life change to have a baby to play with. We have children to raise them, i.e., to pour our lives into them with hope and prayer that they grow to be independent people with integrity and values, people with their own role to play in the kingdom of God. So, I choose to acknowledge the little deaths as part of the deep love I have for this precious baby, and celebrate them as fulfilling my role as a mom. Anyone need some newborn onesies?