It's no secret that this December has been a bad time for the Meters. Possibly the worst ever. Worse than the Christmas I broke up with an emotionally abusive boyfriend for the final time and couldn't get myself to eat for four days.
But don't worry. This is not another Woe is Me post. In fact, it's kind of the opposite. It occurred to me in the shower yesterday that God has shown me three very clear, very key things in the last week.
1) Much less needs to be said than what I've been saying.
A few days ago, along with a terrible sore throat, I lost my voice, and—guys—I talk a LOT. I'm talking (ha) my thoughts, my experiences, active listening, filling silences, narrating life for Elle. If you'd asked me last week if I talk too much, I would have said yeah, probably. But I wouldn't have known how MUCH too much until I lost my voice and noticed every time I wanted to say something and couldn't.
First of all, it was a lot of times. But more interestingly, second of all, being silent didn't make as much of a difference as I expected. It turns out I don't need to say "mhmm" and "yeah" all the time. I can just listen. I don't need to restate in order to show someone I'm tracking with them. I don't need to contribute to every conversation. Honestly, I think I've been wearing myself out with words for no good reason. It would be more peaceful for everyone involved if I cut down my vocalizing by a solid 30%.
(I also discovered that because I'm an external processor, I felt like I couldn't THINK for three days. That made much MORE of a difference than I expected.)
2) If I can survive the last month, I can survive.
In the last three weeks, I was sick, then Elle was sick, then Gabe was sick, then I was sick again. Since Thanksgiving, I think there's been one day that everyone was well. Nights have been painful and sleepless, days have been uncomfortable and exhausting. But guess what.
We're still here. Elle is still alive. I don't think she's accrued any additional trauma.
I thought life was nigh impossible before this storm of illness, but we've done life EVEN THROUGH THE SICKNESS, which means—I hope—that regular life might seem a little bit more doable once the haze of Influenza A clears. Dear God, please let it be so. If I can survive when sick, then I can certainly survive when well.
3) I can have everything I want on paper and still be unhappy.
I know that sounds bad, but it's actually a really good revelation. In the last ten years, God has been incredibly kind to me. I've graduated college, gotten married, bought a car, bought a house, had a baby. Check, check, check, check, check. Some things happened on the timeline I imagined (graduating college), some things took WAY longer than I thought they would (having a baby). Many times I was impatient or wondered if I'd ever have X, and each time I could feel the secret assumption in my head whispering, "Once you have X, you'll never be unhappy again."
Typing that out, I see how insane it is, but I genuinely had that thought when Gabe and I got engaged, and again when I got pregnant. "This is it," I would think. "This is everything I've ever wanted. Anything that happens after this will be bearable because I have this." But each time, I would find the novelty wearing off and depression or disappointment or just regular life tainting my spirit.
In the shower a few days ago, it finally hit me like God walloping me with ton of bricks: "I can have everything I want on paper and still be unhappy." Things will not make me happy. Other people will not make me happy. Nothing on my grand to-do list or wishlist will make me happy forever.
Only God can fill the void in my soul, and even then, I won't always "be happy." That's not what life is about. Life is about the full experience of being alive, and that comes with every flavor of emotion.
In a way, the revelation felt like a relief, like a weight lifted off my shoulders. I can stop trying to satisfy myself. Only God can truly satisfy me. I can just STOP IT. I can just LET IT GO. What freedom! What a relief! I don't need to keep trying to be happy, or scolding myself when I'm not.
For a moment, it felt like I could breathe, which was quite a feat given my stopped up nose and urge to cough with every deep breath.
So yeah. Merry Christmas Eve Eve, or Christmas Adam, or whatever you want to call it.
I am so grateful that God never gives up on me.
~Stephanie
My last post, "I Don't Recommend Having Kids," got way more interaction than I was anticipating. I've been shocked and touched and humbled and teary over how many people have commented, messaged me, or texted me. Y'all are such a blessing and you're showing God's love to me in such real ways. Thank you from the bottom of my heart!
I do want to clarify something completely at odds with that post though, because I forget not everyone understands me as well as Gabe:
I love being a mom.
You may want to chuck your phone or laptop across the room and curl your lip and throw up your hands and snap, "Well, then what the heck was that all about?! Are you lying? Are you CRAZY?"
I'm not lying, although I might be crazy.
Having Baby Elle HAS ruined my life, but in the way that becoming a butterfly ruins your life as a caterpillar. Maybe I really liked having a long, wiggly body and munching on leaves, and now that I can fly and suck nectar from flowers, I miss it. My life, defined as "life as a caterpillar," IS ruined. But my life as a butterfly is just beginning.
Yeah, I can't work/eat/shower/work out/poop/etc., and I hate that. I want those things back. But I also have a list in my phone called "Things I Never Want to Forget," and it's full of things like "the way she sticks her tongue out to poke the paci away if she doesn't want it" and "the little poofs of air in my ear as she breathes during the middle-of-the-night upright time" and "when I can feel her tummy glug against mine while she nurses."
I love how she smiles with the tip of her tongue out. I love watching her wake up and see me first thing (cuz we we end up co-sleeping for the last bit of the night). I love when I know exactly what she wants, especially when it's something so weird and random that no one else could have guessed it. I love watching her discover gravity, figure out how to grab things just out of reach, see Gabe come home after work, react to new shadows, understand new words.
I like creating her reality. She believes that her parents are safe and will come for her. She thinks that church is a place of music and friends and Jesus's love. She knows that she can react negatively toward anyone touching her and have her preferences respected. She knows that she is sweet and smart and strong and brave and kind and beautiful. Her bedtime routine is snuggling on the couch with Mama and Daddy and a paci and reading a book, then everybody prays, then we tell her that God made her special and he loves her very much.
I like making baby food. I like finding whole foods and dicing them and putting them in our fancy machine and steaming them and blending them and putting them in little silicon molds to freeze and then moving them to labeled bags. I like planning what spices we'll introduce her to this week. I like laying out her little silicon bowl and spoons and cup. I like watching her figure out how to use an open cup. I like watching her be SO GOOD AT USING A SPOON?!
I like going to the pediatrician (and I pray for parents for whom those visits are a source of stress or sadness). I like our nurse, Bailey, and our doctor, Dr. Janie. I like seeing how much Baby Elle weighs and how tall she is. I like how smiley she is, and how much everyone loves to interact with her. I like seeing my sweet baby notice everything, from Dr. Janie's necklace to the rhino painting on the wall to the crinkly paper on the examination table.
I like repeating words and sign language and watching Elle begin to make connections. She understands milk, all done, loud, diaper change, and let go—and probably even more than we realize.
I like reading books to her. I like rotating her books so that no one gets sick of anything, and some books feel brand-new. I like finding books to go with each season or holiday. I like watching Elle realize that she can turn pages. I like curating Elle's collection of books so that we have diversity and inclusivity and books that respect big feelings and books with good rhyme and meter. I love when books have perfect rhyme and meter and you can read them with an exaggerated cadence.
I love singing to Baby Elle. She has her own theme song/lullaby, which she loves and will calm her down if she's crying. She also loves Head, Shoulders, Knees, and Toes.
I love using big words around Elle, hoping that she'll have a vocabulary that allows her to express herself well.
I love paying attention to the way Gabe and I interact around Elle, knowing that what we model will be the blueprint her little brain uses for marriage. (Although, talk about PRESSURE.)
I love how happy people get when they see Elle, and how happy she is to see them too, both in person and on work calls.
I love when Elle moves her body BIG, whether she smacks her dangly toys with all her might or slams her heels into the ground while lying down or violently gnarls up the plastic diaper sleeve she has claimed as a toy.
I love picking out the perfect bow to go with her outfits, and I love trying to match or coordinate with her without buying anything new.
I love everything about her tiny body. Her fuzzy, wispy hair. Her chubby, rosy cheeks. Her soft, round belly. Watching her eyelashes get longer. Wondering if her hair is turning blonde. Seeing her eyes get starry with joy.
I love not being lonely or bored anymore, two things that used to plague me.
I love going on walks with Elle. I love how fresh air and nature resets her grumpiness. I love watching her notice leaves or blink when the wind blows.
I love kissing the back of her head every night as Gabe takes her to bed and saying, "Goodnight, I love you."
I love being a mom, but my pre-baby life IS ruined, and all these things would NOT necessarily be worth it to everyone else. Are they worth it to me? Yeah, I wanted kids, 100%. So did Gabe. But if someone doesn't 100% want kids, then the gripes of the "Don't Recommend" post very well might outweigh these good things.
I guess that's the more complete picture of what I meant to say before. I DON'T recommend having kids, not because I regret it or hate it, but because a lot of it SUCKS and I cannot say whether the good will outweigh the suck for you, or for anyone. No one can. Honestly, not even you can, probably.
But you HAVE to be willing to risk the suckiness if you're going to have kids. Kids didn't choose to be born; you chose to have them. If you don't think you can handle your life sucking so that you don't taint the life of an innocent baby, don't do it. I think some of the strongest people are those who know they don't want kids, and therefore don't have them. Good for you.
Do I recommend having kids? No.
Do I love being a mom? Yes.
Clear as mud for you? Same 😂
~Stephanie
