Growing Into Being a Mommy

I remember what it was like being a teenager. I'm not very far removed from that time, although I guess that 6 years can seem like forever. Still, I remember exactly how I felt when I was sixteen. I felt invincible. I honestly believed that I knew everything and could face anything that life threw at me. I was a very shy teen, yet I had that false confidence that I believe most adolescences carry about with them.

I was reminded of these feelings the other day as I observed a group of teen girls walking down the sidewalk as if they owned the town. They walked with that youthful swagger, one that reads, "I'm on top of the world and am the most important person that ever was." Their hands flitted about and their girly voices, jabbering in that serious yet immature fashion, echoed from across the street.

Yes, I remember what it was like to be like them.

Probably because, in my own way, I'm not much different.

I went to college when I was 17 and discovered that the world was much bigger than me.

I met people from all over the world - people, who like me, had traveled far enough from their homes to feel inadequately prepared to face this new challenge. I quickly befriended the foreign students and learned from them just how little I really knew about anything. We were the same in many ways and, yet, the differences were enough to teach me that I was very ignorant and naive.

After college, I realized that there were things I had to be responsible for. I had to get a full-time job, pay bills, and maintain my car. Mom and dad let me live with them, so I was still pretty sheltered, but beyond that, I was responsible for taking care of the things that were mine.

After three years of working and living for myself, I met my husband. My world literally stopped spinning. Everything around me grew eerily still as I stared at the most handsome, genuine man I had ever laid eyes on. I stopped knowing everything at that point. This was uncharted territory, so far beyond anything I had ever known up to that moment, and I approached it with a mix of excitement and fear.


We had a whirlwind courtship and engagement followed by a whirlwind wedding, which turned out beautifully. We were in love and had waited long enough (25 years of singledom. 25 years of virginity. 25 years of bemoaning the fact that I was doomed to be a spinster. 25 long years, most of which was spent dreaming of the perfect man and really believing I would never meet him). We had known each other exactly 7 months when we exchanged vows.

I learned a lot right out of the gate. One, I was still completely immature, although arguably more mature than I would have been had I married at twenty-one as originally planned. Two, that I was completely unaware of how truly different men and women are (and how those differences, at times, can lead to misunderstandings). And three, how difficult it was (and is) to balance two families vying for our time with the need and desire to spend every second with each other.

And then we got this silly idea. We wanted to start growing our family right away. Why? Because my biological clock was ticking. Because I had read that the closer I got to 35, the harder it would be. Because I wanted at least three kids and so did Tim.

So we didn't take any precautions and left it all up to God and His timing. Sure enough, about two months after our wedding day, we conceived our darling daughter.

Her conception came as a surprise. After a couple of months of pregnancy tests and disappointments, we had given up on the idea, thinking that we might have a long road ahead of us. And then I went to the doctor for an unrelated checkup. She offered to give me a pregnancy test after I described this horrible flu I was enduring. Five minutes later our lives changed.

Going into our pregnancy, we had no idea how much parenthood would change us. In a lot of ways, we were still children. And we were still newlyweds. Here my husband was, loving our moments of intimacy, but being turned down because I couldn't stomach the idea half of the time. We went through arguments and breakdowns. I became a hormonal basket case, crying over every little thing and worrying myself sick in regards to the health of our child.

I am not sure how Tim managed to survive those nine months. He is truly amazing. Any man who can endure the ongoing wrath of a woman and still hold her hand through 18 hours of labor deserves a medal of honor at the very least.

My pregnancy proved, beyond all doubt, that I had yet to grow up. I was still very childish in my thinking and I had absolutely no clue before then.

When I held my daughter for the first time, relishing the feel of this tiny angel in my arms, I finally embraced the fact that I know nothing. I have no idea how to be the perfect wife or mother. I have no idea how to provide the very best for my little bug. I don't know how to keep a clean house or make a homemade meal that is ready by six. I don't know how to protect my family from danger. All these years that I thought I was growing up, that I believed were preparing me for the real world, had suddenly ceased to mean anything.

I was clueless, yet oddly accepting of that.

I'm not the center of the world and I know that now. But I am the center of my husband and child's world.

I do not know much at all, but I do know that I love my family fiercely and they love me in the same way.

God is watching over us, taking care of all the things I do not understand or cannot handle, and giving us a chance to really embrace the gift of family and the gift of love.

And, really, in this life, that is more precious and more special than being on top of the world.