Our baby girl is growing up. Teeth are coming in and she’s starting to take solid foods. She’s just discovered how to crawl, albeit a strange one-legged crawl that makes her look like a hermit crab. She can now pull herself to standing and it won’t be long before she figures out how to toddle around on two legs. These are all very big changes for a very little person and they have taken a toll on her nap routine. After months of long easy naps in the crib our daughter has hit yet another round of dreaded sleep regression. During the day she sleeps more on me than she does anywhere else at the moment. I was just beginning to get the hang of household chores and meal prep in those quiet hours when she enjoyed her afternoon siesta but we have once again leveled up.

Although her freshly difficult naps come with a brand new set of inconveniences, I can’t honestly say that I’m terribly upset about it. I don’t always get to the dirty dishes in the sink or the clutter on the coffee table and my arms occasionally start tingling from holding her for long stretches at a time. However, truth be told, I’m loving every minute of it. I am drinking up each and every hour that passes with her snuggled against my chest. My day-to-day is far from productive but amid all of her new growing pains she became downright cuddly. As the song goes, “let them be little.” One day, not so far from now, she won’t need mommy’s shoulder to fall asleep on. I can’t wait to chase her through all of the walking and talking still to come but for now I am savoring the blessing that is sleep regression. 

This seems to be an unpopular opinion in society though happily is gaining traction. I recently listened to an episode of Pints with Aquinas where Matt Fradd interviewed Nick Freitas. At one point in the conversation Nick made the observation that we have a tendency to ‘bubble wrap’ the world for every veteran we meet because we incorrectly assume they have all experienced trauma. I believe that we’ve done the same thing to motherhood in a way. 

For one thing, I think we put far too much emphasis on postpartum depression. When a woman becomes pregnant she can hardly turn around without hearing assurances that it’s okay if she doesn’t feel that instant connection when baby is born. Of course, postpartum depression is real and it by no means makes you a bad mother. I simply believe this is the exception and not the rule. We have turned pregnancy and childbirth into a medical condition bordering on a disorder when, in the past, it was always a beautiful and natural human process. Despite the exhausted struggling mothers we see on TV, I think most women are blessed as I was, with the overwhelming joy of motherhood upon giving birth. 

This leads to my second objection to the traumatic motherhood mentality. Although your body, your schedule and your life will never be the same after pregnancy and childbirth, these changes are generally for the better in my opinion. At no point have I found myself itching for an excuse to get away from my daughter. If anything, I adore her too much, sometimes to the exclusion of other important things. People are so eager to lend a hand with babysitting or simply by holding baby so mommy can have a break. While this is greatly appreciated and occasionally necessary, it’s never really been the kind of help I wanted. In truth, I was often far happier in the early days to accept a home cooked meal from a friend while I got to simply become acquainted with this beautiful new human God gave us. To this day I still don’t enjoy leaving baby girl with others, even trusted family members, when my husband and I go out. Our daughter is not someone I want a break from. 

My life did not end when she came into it. Quite the opposite. Likewise, I have never resented my stretch marks. Perhaps that does put me in a minority, but I look like a mom and it’s a fact that I am immensely proud of. My body now bears visible signs of the sanctifying work I have given my life to. My husband isn’t less attracted to me because my tummy has a few lines on it. I am still perfectly able to dress neatly and attractively, never having felt the need to resign myself to lumpy mom jeans. In short, I am not a victim of motherhood. I am not a slave to my baby. This is no more or less that the work that I signed up for, the work I believe God made me for. I am absolutely overjoyed to fulfill that purpose, the vocation of marriage and all it entails including the responsibilities of motherhood. 

It’s easy to let a tinge of despair creep into our lives if all we ever do is watch the news. The broadcast worthy stories hardly ever seem to have happy endings (excluding our recent and historic election. Yippee!). I firmly believe it is the responsibility of every individual to be informed of the happenings in the world. However, every now and then, we all need to turn off the news and simply enjoy life. When we go out into the world and participate we discover once again that people really are remarkable. They’re resilient and intelligent and passionate, each fueled by a perfectly distinct and driving fire to do something important. For many, this manifests in a career. 

In a family of engineers, doctors and soldiers, I am surrounded by these people, hardworking individuals who have devoted their lives to the service of others. When speaking with them it requires no effort to see that their chosen fields of work are no less than a calling from God. In some way they are each duty bound to make use of their talents and passion for the betterment of humanity. 

Throughout my life I have been constantly inspired by these people though I admit that I’ve also found myself incredibly envious at times. I’ve never felt similarly compelled to any particular career and for a long time I wondered if this was a deficiency of my own character. My driving fire has never infused in me a need to participate in great technological advancements or save lives or defend the innocent. Rather I believe I inherited the hospitality bug from my mom. I like to feed people. I delight in home cooking, music and good conversation, despite being tremendously shy. I am most fulfilled while bringing warmth and good cheer to friends, family and strangers alike. 

Although I am perfectly content in my decision to be a stay at home mom, lately I’ve been feeling the need to justify this choice. We live in a time where everyone is free to chase their dreams to the ends of the earth and encouraged to do so. Our society tells men and women alike that they should have careers and that these will be their most important contributions to the world. I am a member of a generation which has been brought up under the belief that a college degree and a good job are the markers of ultimate success. For some, my bowing out of such a job in the steel industry seems akin to throwing away a dream, especially considering the years of education and work which went into acquiring it. 

This is something I’ve considered long and hard and I truly don’t believe that I’m throwing away anything. Though it was a perfectly good job and may have turned into a career had I stayed, for me it was always done in the service of my actual dream, to be a wife and mother. It may seem a far less ambitious calling than those of my relatives. It’s likely that no one will ever remember my deeds as particularly noteworthy. However, in a world of geniuses and heroes, I am simply called to be a wife and a mom. I couldn’t be happier!

I am currently discovering, as every new mother has, the necessity of no expectations. I keep no daily to do lists or agendas. There’s no set time in which I will accomplish any particular task. Unlike the five second tick tock snippets of seemingly put-together stay at home moms touting pleasant and strictly regulated routines of balanced breakfasts, full workouts and easy nap times, my life is not so structured. 

Of course there are events throughout the day which reliably occur, breakfast and story time while baby girl babbles on her playmat for instance. However, the time and duration of these occurrences is always a gamble. There simply is no knowing when I might get a spare moment to tidy the house or send an email or run an errand and thus, there is no to do list, just a few things I might get done if time allows. 

This is a reality I’m still coming to terms with as I am traditionally a planner. I like making lists and scratching off a few items everyday. Checking nothing off can feel like a step backward. However, since the birth of our daughter, I’ve learned to swallow that disappointment. Wasting time beating myself up over all the things I failed to do is of no use to anyone, especially with an exhausted hubby always slightly sleep deprived from night shifts at work. 

Difficult though it may be at times, I am often called to drop all expectations for the day in order to be a warm and helpful support to him and our needy infant. This is one of those small crosses of stay at home motherhood which I am learning to embrace. After a long night at work for my husband or a sleepless afternoon with a gassy baby, it’s down to me to be the sunshine in our home. Of course I have bad days but this is the role I strive to fill for my family.