Mornings come early in this place. A walk is taken, sandwiches, yogurt, a granola bar, a cheese stick, and fruit is packed for a day in the office, and breakfast is made. We alternate between scrambled eggs with toast and oatmeal around these parts. He likes the eggs better and I like the oatmeal better.
I don’t love getting up early. I like sleep far more than I do rising before the sun is fully up, and really, waking early has always been a struggle. I guess all I can say is that my getting up even before The Husband does shows a small part of how marriage changes a person. It just does. You may baulk at that and make promises like I did that you’re not going to suddenly be a different person just because you get hitched, but you’ll change. It’s bound to happen.
And it’s the beauty that has to happen.
It’s a beautiful thing to birth something new. And as much as we may want to say that getting married is simply two people who love each other deciding to live under the same roof for the rest of their lives, it’s something so much more. You’re supposed to change as you mesh your life with another, somehow figuring out what this newly birthed family is supposed to look like and how it’s supposed to function. Yes, change is supposed to happen.
In a few months another new thing will be birthed. I’ve come to terms with the fact that this baby will have to leave the comfort and safety of my womb and there’s no way around the physical discomfort involved, but sometimes I wonder when I’ll come to terms with the fact that I am the mother. The mother. This life — this being with a soul in need of Saving Grace — is now my responsibility. Sometimes the fear that accompanies that realization is enough to make me catch my breath. What have I gotten myself into? How am I supposed to do this? How do I not mess up? I don’t even know a single thing about vaccinations let alone disciplining or raising a little person’s heart and soul.
Last night The Husband voiced similar thoughts — the feeling of pressure as the days pass by and the start of this new season of parenthood looms closer. I listened in understanding while waiting for the usual fear to creep up and make my heart panic. It didn’t come. Instead I found myself saying in absolute calm, “Oh, we will mess up. We just will. It’s not possible for us to parent perfectly. But thank You, Jesus — we aren’t doing this on our own. We’re doing this with Him.”
Later on as the light was turned off and I found my usual sleeping position — fetal and on my right side, thank you — The Husband asked if I was feeling good and settled.
“Oh, I’m so good. Trusting Him is the best place to be, ya know?”
And it is.