When I'm rocking my baby to sleep at night, things get blurry (which may be due in part to the fact that I get all teary-eyed at least 60% of the time). He's sleepily nursing away, occasionally raising a chubby little fist to rub his eyes, then allowing that pudgy-soft arm to flop lazily across his face as he gradually surrenders to sleep. To my surprise he suddenly pulls away, eyes half-open, to stare lovingly at his mama. A sheepish half-grin spreads across his face, but he doesn't get overly excited. There's no wiggling or arm-flapping, just peaceful contentment and a hole-boring, unblinking stare. I smile back, and his grin widens. We remain locked in this stare for as long as he'll hold it, and I whisper to him that I love him, that I wish I never had to leave him, that he's the most special little creature on the planet. His blinking - though infrequent - gradually becomes heavier, but so long as those enchanting hazel eyes are open they're locked on mine. Before long he slips off to sleep, for real this time. I linger in the rocking chair a little longer just to listen to his breath and lightly trace his soft, plump cheeks. The moment couldn't be any more perfect. He couldn't be any more perfect.
Becoming a mother permanently alters your perspective on the rest of life - those other "hats" that you wear. I am a firm believer that the "Wife" hat must sit at the right hand of the "Mommy" hat - that the two roles must not only be equally valued and prioritized, but also indivisibly intertwined. All the other hats, though, quickly shrink into the background. "Doctor" is a hat that I'm looking forward to wearing one day, but it simply doesn't measure up. I know that there will be a kind of fulfillment to be found in serving others as a physician, and that it will be an enriching new dimension to my life, but the pure joy that I find in being a wife and mother will always remain unrivaled - of that I am convinced.
As I move forward into this new and largely uncharted territory, I just have to allow myself to be sad. I'm letting go of stay-at-home-motherhood, and that hurts. I need to cry about it, to complain about it, and to occasionally hatch convoluted schemes for escaping it. I'm going to love being a doctor, but sometimes I'm going to truly hate the road I must travel to get there. Just like everybody else who has traveled that road before me. Just like everybody else who has had to leave their baby to return to work or school or whatever life requires of them. The transition will be hard - really hard - but we will eventually settle into our new routine. It won't always feel this way. There will be occasional pangs of sadness and guilt, but only occasionally ;-) My life will be what I make of it - I'm driving this train! I don't need to fear the future because the path I'm on is opening doors for me, not closing them. I'm creating opportunities for myself and for my family. It may not always feel like it's all good, but it is. It's all good.
For now, I'm gonna go revel in the joys of stay-at-home-motherhood while I have it, and try to look forward to the exciting new opportunities that God has in store for our family. The unknown is always a little scary, but knowing that God is in control sure does take the edge off ;-)
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