Guilt, Worry & Victory

Sometimes I feel guilty. I read my fair share of blogs and most of the blogs I read either have to do with kids or crafts or a combination of both. Most of the baby blogs I read have had some sort of fertility issue, or have a special needs child or a preemie. I look at all these women gazing in to the eyes of their newborns eyes and I see this deep love and amazement when I look at these women. And my heart almost hurts when I see these pictures. Did I do this? Did I feel this? Did I look at my child this way? I know I did. I know I felt it. I know I loved him. But I think my feelings of doubt and worry overshadowed the joy that being a new mother brings.

I don't know that I suffered from post-partum depression exactly, but I do know that those first 6 weeks were a complete blur. The first Lance was home and I was dreading his return to work. The next week, I was on my own, all day every day. {I did have my mother-in-law at the end of the street ready to help at any given moment, and my mom would come after work if I needed}. But it wasn't Lance. It wasn't what I was used to. I was lost.

The up in the middle of the night, feeding every 3 hours, wondering if he's getting enough milk from me, not knowing what to do for this, that or the other, those things consumed me. Breastfeeding was a real issue for me. I'm type A. I like to know exacts, like how much milk is he getting at each feeding, how much should he be getting, how long should he nurse. I had milk, praise the Lord. Still do. That was never the issue. I just didn't know exacts. And that drove me crazy. He was always a quick nurser. No longer than 10 minutes on each side and he was done. Instead of being thankful for a 20 minute session, I'd wonder for the next 2 1\2 hours if he was going to get hungry before the next feeding time. I'd worry. I'd wonder. I'd stress. But like clockwork, my little future Type A would wait patiently till his 7a-10a-1p-4p or 7p. The middle of the nights were never scheduled. But he was good. Normally twice a night, sometimes 3 on a rare night. But still. I'd worry and wonder and stress.

It was at 6 weeks when everything clicked. That love that I knew I had deep within me came out. I remember coming in the front door. My mother-in-law was at my house with Easton while I had ran out on an errand. I think it was my first outing without him. I missed him. I'd never had the opportunity to miss him before. He had been with me all the time. But today, I'd missed him. And it felt good. I remember saying to her something along the lines of 'I missed him. And I love him. I really love him. And I think he loves me too' She looked at me a little odd as if to say with her eyes 'well, I"m glad you do. He IS your child.' But it clicked. He was mine. I was his mother. This child made me a mother. No longer would I ever just be a wife, daughter, sister, friend. My title now happily included mother.

Ever since that day my love for him has grown. I never thought it was possible to love someone so much. I think of him while I'm at work and I have this strong urge to get in my truck and peek in on him at school. I count down the hours until I get to go pick him up in the afternoon. He truly his the joy of my heart. The light of my life. Sometimes it hurts because I love him so much. Almost like my heart is in my throat all the time. It's a good hurt of course.

But then, in comes the worry. I worry about everything. I still worry, wonder and stress. It's satan I know. I don't know why he chooses to attack me this way, but he knows the way to get me is to get my mind to play tricks on me. And boy, he can get me wound up quick. Some days I"ll wonder 'did I tell Easton I love him before I left him at school?" or "if something happened to me today, he'd never remember who I was or know how much I love him" or "what if something ever happened to him, how would I ever survive?" And then, it consumes me. Those thoughts invade my mind for the rest of the day. They'll start coming and I'll pray. Then I'll go about my merry way and back they'll come. I"ll let them stir around for a little while, messing up my head and then I'll pray again. It's back and forth. It's a constant battle. All day. It's mostly when I'm tired. Or bored. Either way, satan attacks.

Psalm 92:1

Whoever dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty.

BUT. There is victory. There is victory and there is hope in KNOWING and believing that there is One who is bigger than my doubt, worry, wonder and stress. There is One who is waiting for me to bring my fears and doubts to his feet and crawl up in His arms and let it all out. In the same way my baby tugs at my leg begging to be picked up, days like today I long to feel the embrace of the One who knit me together in my mothers womb. He loves Easton even more than I do. He created him. He's the One who made him so perfect and happy. So, today I"m claiming the victory. Jesus is getting the praise today. I'm not letting Satan take this day. He had yesterday. Today, I'm going to praise Him for all that I have. For my hard working husband. For my son who is perfect in every way. For my family who is so dear to me. For In-Laws that are so special to me. For friends. For my job. For the sunshine. I will praise Him and give him the glory for the victory of a new day.

Matthew 6:27

Can anyone of you by worrying add a single hour to his life?

Matthew 6:34

Therefore, do not worry about tomorrow. Tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.