Motherhood should come with disclaimers. My first disclaimer: I've only been a mom for six weeks and five days. (See, I'm such a new mom I'm still counting the days!) I was a mom before he was born, but this is totally different.
Disclaimer number one: motherhood is harder than you think. The crying, the crying, the crying. He doesn't speak English, and I don't know what he wants! The poop. The gas. The fussing. This is hard work, and it's more about unseating my Self as my idol.
Disclaimer number two: motherhood will slow you down. It takes time to get into the car, time to get out of the car, time to load the car seat into the grocery cart, time to change the diaper, time to clean up from changing the diaper. Lest I sound like a complaint machine, the slowing down is also good. There's time for nursing: 20-30 minutes to hang out with my boy while he eats. While he eats, we cuddle. There's time to rock him to sleep and feel his little body relax. There's time to sing lullabies. Time to shush. Time to cuddle. Time to pray. Time to meditate on the words of Scripture that keep me alive...I draw it in, as he draws in his food.
Disclaimer number three: motherhood will change you. I'm changed already. My body shows off that I worked hard to build him and bring him here. My stretch marks are in the pattern of a heart: see, baby? See how I bear on my body the marks of sacrifice? My incision is there, the red scar of opening to release the boy into his adventure. See, baby? See how much I love you? My heart already has stretches and scars as he barges into my life. See, baby? See how my heart stretches to allow someone else to order my days?
Disclaimer number four: (I'm totally past five minutes now, but I'm on a roll and the baby is quiet.) Motherhood brings a mirror into your life. All the work, all the soothing, all the feeding and the leaking and the lanolin, all the crying, all the diapers...all of it teaches me about God's perfection as a parent. If not for you, baby, I'd miss out of this depth of love and the deeper knowledge of God's love for me. Oh, how he feeds me. Oh, how he cares for me. Keeps me warm, keeps me clean, keeps me soothed. Oh, how I fuss at him...but he perfectly, patiently cares for me. Oh, the depths of the riches and wisdom of God! How unsearchable his judgment, and his paths beyond tracing out.
There's the baby, waking and grunting for food. Krista out.