I've heard a picture's worth a thousand words. I guess that depends on who is viewing the picture. To my children, a picture of them when they were very little is something to giggle about or tease each other about. "Look at your hair!" "Look at all that food on your face!" To their dad, he sees his little boy and girl growing up too fast and it sometimes makes him sad. To me, their mom, I see two happy, healthy children enjoying their childhood, and I breathe a sigh of relief.
Like most moms, before my first baby was even born, I was determined to do everything right. By the time my second baby came along, I really didn't know exactly what "right" was. I was just doing the best I knew how. To me, though, it was never enough. I read so many parenting books and magazines that my head was spinning because of all the contradictory advice. I knew I only had one chance to get it right, and that terrified me.
Most nights I lay in bed and felt guilty over one thing or another, never feeling like I actually had this parenting thing down. I cried because I raised my voice or snapped at one of my children. I felt guilty because I didn't get to read that book that Nathan asked me to or take them to the park like I had planned. I worried that I was seriously messing up my kids.
I had wanted to stay home with my children during their preschool years because I wanted to be there for every moment. I wanted to be the one seeing to their every need. I had no idea how hard that would actually be. I wanted the very best for my children, and if I was the one with them 24/7, who would be the one who failed if they were scarred or messed up? Me... Oh, the pressure I put on myself.
Sophie and Nathan were 22 months apart. They both had acid reflux, which was painful and made it difficult for them to eat. Sophie was extremely sensitive to everything. Light, sound, people! You name it. The girl cried non-stop for months. My babies were not the kind who would sit for an hour and just play with their toys like other babies I knew. Mine were very hands on.
When Nathan was around 3 and 4 years old, we butted heads like rams. He wasn't a bad kid. He was just a child that was...more. He cried hard, laughed loud and felt things deeply. He was strong willed and very intelligent. He analyzed everything and couldn't let anything go. I didn't' realize it then, but he's so much like me. I thought for sure, I was doing everything wrong with him.
But for the grace of God, I probably would have. I never prayed so much in my life until I became a mother. I prayed every day for God to help me be a good mother. I prayed that in spite of my mistakes that my children would know how much they were loved.
When I see those pictures of them (and there are so, so many) I see the fruits of much labor and prayer. They are smiling, laughing and playing, and I was there for all of it. No matter how hard it was, when I see those pictures, I know I would do it all over again.
(Except for maybe the non-stop crying, and I would go a bit easier on everyone, including myself.)
