It Is Time

Hopefully, the last move with small children is behind us! We are settling into our new home, the one where we didn’t have tiny babies. This is the home with the big, wooden playset. This is the home with plenty of land for the kids to explore. I am so filled with joy that we are here, after so many months of talking about this place. This future was a dream of mine when I sat in the NICU with a tiny frog for a baby snuggled onto my chest, a baby attached to monitors that dinged and bellowed if I moved even slightly.

I am so grateful to be here in this place. But, I am so exhausted, so weary and so tired. Sometimes, the talker in me has nothing left to say. I’m correcting and guiding and entertaining two little ones, which can leave a mother with little emotional reserve, but the exhaustion is deeper than that. I am waiting, even in this joyful present, on the shadow of the past. I have spent the last five years moving and having tiny babies and caring for tiny babies and moving and then moving again. People have much worse, and I know I’ve been blessed. But, I’m tired, of chaos and stress and fears that whisper to me in the dark of night.

A few weeks ago, I sat on the same velvet-covered pew in the same church where I sat so many Sundays as a child and as a teenager and as a newly-married woman. My mind drifted from the sermon to a reflection of where I am. How did I become this woman? How did I have these children? Surely, I am still a girl with big dreams and plenty of spunk. Sitting there, I was overcome with the sensation of who I was before my NICU babies, the defining moments of my life. I will never be that person again, but for the most part, I am grateful for the person I have become. The one exception is the yoke of fear I carry around my neck, the fear of the unexpected. The most traumatic part of having my babies was that no one saw it coming. How can I ever trust the present when the future is so uncertain? But, then isn’t that life? Tomorrow is always a gamble, and today is always a gift. As I sat in church staring at the same stained glass I saw thousands of times as a child, I asked for help with this fear that sneaks in on me in the dark of night. It is time for me to release it, this one thing that most separates me from the girl I once was. I had the confidence of youth that things would work out, and in my adulthood I have realized that “working out” might have a different meaning from my intention.

Now, that we are in this present, I need some time to fill my emotional coffers. I need some peace. I need understanding and patience for the twists and turns of life. I need forgiveness for myself. But, most of all, I need to release this fear. It is time.

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