Parenthood: “They” Say a lot but “They” Never Said This

*New chapter in life, new blog title, same me :)

When Evan was little the phrase, “well they say,” or “they said that” flew around our house multiple times a day. It actually has become something we joke about as Evan grows older and we grow more comfortable in our new roles as parents. 

They told us there would be many sleepless nights and that our lives would be forever changed. They told us we would be challenged in new ways and that the rewards of these challenges were great. Becoming a parent has been a humbling experience. My priorities have changed, my prayers at night have changed, what’s important to me has changed. “They” were right about all of those things but what “they” never said was this: 

“They” never said, likely because it is so hard to adequately describe, is how your feelings of fear and love will evolve into emotions that are now suddenly intertwined and are so strong you hardly recognize them.

This fear appears in the form of illness and pain and hurt feelings and your own ability to provide for all of your child’s needs. It’s a fear that has the potential to be crippling, yet as a parent you somehow never fall to its pull on your heart. 

This love is so great that you feel your heart could burst at any moment but somehow it never does. It’s a love so strong that when the new fear sets in you feel a physical ache in your heart that sinks all the way into your stomach. 

This fear and this love extends beyond your own children. You suddenly develop a level of sympathy for other parents facing and living out these fears that you can’t begin to imagine what they are going through without the return of an ache in your own heart for them. 

I remember when Evan was a few days old and we were at home with both sets of grandparents. It was a particularly warm fall day and Evan got so hot from the combination of his clothes, the outside temperature and being passed around, that he started to get a rash on his stomach. I started to feel a panic set in and as I began to strip his clothes from him tears were filling my eyes. Aaron said, “Why are you crying, he’s just warm, he’s ok.” To which I whispered back, “I never want anything to happen to him.” In this moment I experienced for the first time something that is now so familiar, this new intertwined emotion of love and fear. 

Being a parent is in fact scary and challenging and mysterious and sometimes even exhausting. But being a parent, even with this new understanding of fear and love, is also awesome. It's crazy beautiful and incredibly awesome. 

-Much love friends

They're Only Little Once

When I was eight months pregnant with Evan we had a small bar-b-que at our house with my parents, my sister-in-law, niece and a few of my parent's friends whom I've known all of my life. 

One of my parents friends taught my niece to say, "I'm only little once" as a response to being told no when she wanted to do something, like sleep in bed with her mom when my brother is away on fires :). It was, of course, very cute.

Then the other night Aaron came in our room to check on me and Evan after I had gotten him to sleep.  I was holding Evan much like I did for the first time when I was in recovery after his birth and Aaron echoed that exact saying, "they're only little once". 

Suddenly I found myself reflecting on all the moments in the last four months where I've told myself "if we can just get through this part we can do this: the c-section recovery, the breastfeeding struggles, the infections, the colic, the refusal to be put down, the only sleep when held phase, the unexplained tremors when feeding that landed us at Children's for an afternoon, the dairy allergy, the bloody diapers, the acid reflux (oh the acid reflux!)...... and suddenly I felt sad because they really are only little once.  

As challenging as those times were, they were also the times when Evan was the littlest he will have ever been.  There may have been more tears than smiles then, but when I think about those challenging times all I can do is smile because we are doing this.

We might be parents to a child who has to be held upright for his first hour of sleep to prevent acid from burning his throat (and the banshee screams that accompany it) but we are also parents to a child who loves us unconditionally already, who is days away from laughing and rolling over and eating solid foods and sleeping through the night (ok that one might be dayssss away).

And if you're a parent, you are doing it too.  You are doing a good job. I'm telling you because sometimes we just need to hear that. Good job to you and you and you.

Night friends.

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