Tuesday, April 9, 2013

the eye of a needle.

today i am inspired to write by brandi carlile.
i can share the song with you, but it won't penetrate your heart quite like it's piercing mine right now. you can still listen if you wanna.

i feel like this whole birth and becoming a mother deal is exactly like passing through the eye of a needle. isn't as easy as it sounds.
but people do this all the time. birth babies and become mothers for the first time.
and people say, congratulations! how exciting!
but i am swimming in it. overwhelmed and totally unsure of myself. and people say, you'll figure it out.
but i have a hard time feeling good about that when a child, a precious little human soul, is affected by my every mistake. a sweet little girl i love enough to drown in, and it's inevitable: i'm going to hurt her. things i do and say are going to damage her little self. i'm going to be bad at being a mom sometimes. probably a lot of times.
and yes. she'll get over it. she'll be bouncy and resilient and the love i'll shower on her will mean so much more and hopefully she'll remember the wonderful things i'm good at in motherworld and not the faults i have and fear.

but i am really tired of people acting like it's not a big deal.
the epitome of the "it is what it is" attitude. you do your best and blah blah. they probably say that because they figure i don't want to hear their advice. and, really, i don't--i just want someone to take my face in their hands and tell me that it's the hardest thing in the world and tell about the nights up crying and frustrated and the most beautiful moments of the multitude of shared love and knowledge between a mother and her baby.

i am looking around with such sure knowing that my best is so painfully not enough. why is no one else bothered by that?
i know God is looking out for us, and will help me care for her and love her and make my efforts so much more than they could be. and still, my efforts alone will not be as whole as i wish them to be. i will lose my patience and scream into a pillow and break down crying and accidentally wake her up and squeeze her hand too hard and act differently than i tell her to and want to tear out my hair.

and all anyone can say is, you'll figure it out.
i will.
i just wish there was a way to figure it out before her life is on the line. before her pristine self becomes my trial-and-error zone. i don't want to litter on her. i want to preserve her perfection.