I find myself impatient. Incredibly impatient and ready to be done with this season. It has to do with the sleeplessness, with the unsolved mysteries, the unanswered questions.
Why is my baby not sleeping through the night yet?
Why is he still needing to eat every three hours?
Is my milk supply enough? Is he making up for unmet caloric needs during the day?
Does his thrush affect his nursing? Why is the nystatin not working?
Should I let him cry it out this time? Is he over-stimulated? Is my presence keeping him up? Are his feelings hurt when I don't come right away?
How did I do this with Carter?
Why is this not working?
These questions weigh on me,
resting on already tired shoulders,
hovering like Eeyore's cloud,
unmoved by the fleeting distractions my happy life provides.
The dishes are calling, my dirty floor needs mopping, my sweet three year old wants to play, my marriage needs a date, a night away from parenthood, but I tell myself
this is the most important thing you can do right now.
My blog needs updating, women's ministry needs events planned and coffees had and women contacted and loved and listened to, but I tell myself
this is the most important thing I can do right now.
My body needs more sleep, my legs need stretching, my heart needs the challenge of a three mile run, but I tell myself to be patient, that even my body can wait, because
this is the most important thing I can do right now.
My books are strewn across my floor, right next to the pump that's part of attempt number 17 to get this thing right. They speak to my questions, offering up seemingly simplistic solutions, but I take them anyway because it's something. Something to try. Something to tell the pediatrician. Something to tell myself.
I tell myself that these three months of discomfort are nothing when compared to the span of my life. There will be no significant event to mark the passing of these three months, or the next three, or even the next nine. I'll turn 29 and might gain a crease or two around the corners of my mouth and eyes, discernible to me alone. But for this little one, these three months are everything. And the next three, and the three after that are all definitively foundational to his life-long development and health. So, again I conclude that
this is the most important thing I can do right now.
My husband and my God are patient. They seem to understand that this is my life. They don't sulk, or throw pity-parties for lack of attention. There's no deep Bible study right now, no convicting challenge for me to work through. When my thoughts turn to God and scripture, they seem to tell me,
It's okay. Keep going. My love will sustain you. I gave all for you, so lean on my strength and give all for your baby.
When my attentions turn to my husband, he meets my weariness with praise and encouragement and trouble-shooting. We work through the questions and write new plans and try new things. Sometimes we're met with success, it seems these days mostly failure. So we start all over again.
Because this is the most important thing we can do right now.
This is the most important thing I can do.
Very poetic April and just what every woman needs to read and remember.
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