I have been putting off writing this blog post for a while now because, well, talking openly about Liam’s first year of life is such a mix of emotions. I realize that every parent’s experience is different, but I feel it’s important to share mine.
When Liam’s first birthday was approaching, Mike and I were talking with some friends and we said we were honestly proud of ourselves for keeping him alive for a whole year! Our friends laughed because they assumed we were joking, but we were serious! This parenting stuff is HARD!
I was very naïve when it came to caring for a newborn. I have eight nieces and nephews so I thought I was a pro. I could not have been more wrong. You see, in my head, my selfishness would be birthed at the same time as Liam. The nurses would put it in a container, carry it away, and dispose of it appropriately. I then would stare adoringly at my sleeping son with tears of joy coming down my face but not messing up my mascara or mussing up my pearls.
Ok, so maybe I wasn’t quite THAT naïve, but I had no idea that once the tears of joy were over with, they’d turn into tears of exhaustion. And frustration. And delirium. And what felt like at the time hopelessness. The first night we brought Liam home from the hospital I sat on our bed at some awful time in the morning holding a very wide awake newborn that was competing with me for who could cry the most tears. Through my sobs I managed to say to Mike, “We had such a nice life before this. What have we DONE?” I could not live like this. It just was not an option. I hate to admit it, but
Before Liam was born I thought that my great love for him would cover over all of the tough stuff. I thought it wouldn’t matter that I was up in the middle of the night because I loved him. I thought it wouldn’t matter that my house would be a mess because I loved him. I thought it wouldn’t matter that I got no sleep because I loved him. But for me, even though I loved him so much I felt like my heart would explode, it didn’t make any of the other things ok. I think the worst part of it all was the overwhelming guilt and insecurity that I allowed to consume me because my great love wasn’t great enough. Because of this guilt, I didn’t have the courage to voice my struggles. I was afraid it would make me look like a terrible mother-- a terrible mother who just wanted to sit down and watch an episode of Lost without Liam screaming. My love wasn’t great enough to not get frustrated because I couldn’t hear what Sawyer was saying to Kate.
It took about four months for me to feel like I was keeping my head above water. Around 5 months I felt like I was doing a graceful doggie paddle (if such a thing exists). Once I finally found the nerve to open up a little about what I was feeling, I heard from a few other mothers that they experienced similar situations. Some are blessed enough to get the hang of it right away (though I’m convinced this has a direct correlation to how much the baby is sleeping during the night!). I was not one of those mothers. What I needed most during that time (besides lots and lots of prayer) was validation of my feelings. It helped hearing encouraging words from others, but I had to believe that I was a good mother.
I’ve learned to love watching t.v. with the closed captioning on. I’ve learned to cherish consecutive hours of sleep. I’m thankful for a healthy child and an incredibly supportive husband. Every day isn’t easy. But every day I know that Liam will make me laugh so hard my sides hurt. I know that every day my love for him will increase. And most importantly, I know that every day he will teach me something deeper about God’s character just by being the amazing little person that he is.
Lastly, to prove to you just how hilarious this child is, enjoy what I like to call "Liam vs. The Lemon"
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