Timing

I have been thinking a lot lately about timing. If I had had my way, I would have become a mother somewhere around age 25 or 26. Instead, I was 31 when I had my son. That was 5-6 years of aching, crying, praying; 5-6 years of mixed anger, hurt, frustration, bitterness; 5-6 years of having a longing and an ache so deep that my heart, which had always loved children, could scarcely bear to witness a new mother's joy. Five to six years that I often, in my deepest despair, thought would become the norm for the rest of my life - always on the outside, never blessed to know the joy and ache of motherhood.

Now that I am on the other side of that, now that my longing to be a mother has been fulfilled, I realize that, for Elijah's sake, it is better that I did not get my way and become a mother by 26. I am a much different mom now than I would have been then. Before, I lived in a very black-and-white world, where there was only one right way to do things. I was rigid. I was judgmental. If I'd been a parent then, I think I would have been more authoritarian. During those years of bitterness and longing to have a child, I was also in the throes of blended family hell - something that is all too common today, to no one's benefit and everyone's detriment. Not a good time to welcome a child into the world.

Somewhere in the time between when I wanted to be a mom and when I became one, I (thankfully) grew up a bit. I became softer, less rigid, less black-and-white, more gray. I looked around me and I learned from seeing other parents in action, both good and bad. I learned that it's okay for parents not to be right all the time; that children respect parents who listen to them. I discovered that there is a balance between letting your child rule the household and being a parent who rules with an iron fist. I discovered that I am okay with learning from my son and that trusting my instincts is fine. There is a balance between knowing what is developmentally normal among groups of children and knowing what your own individual child needs. That structure and routine is good, but that rigid, defined, arbitrary scheduling makes no sense if it ends up totally negating what you're trying to accomplish with having a schedule in the first place (providing a predictable environment so that your child feels secure.) How can a child feel secure if his voice isn't being heard? I have learned from my son that touch, comfort, is just as important as eating and sleeping. If my child is afraid at night, or upset, or doesn't feel good, I have learned that I am completely okay with letting him sleep with us. His hands reach out in his sleep, searching for our warmth. When he feels us, he calms. I don't think I would have done that 6 years ago. I wouldn't have trusted my instincts; I would have trusted the books.

I am not perfect. I fail every day. But I do believe I am a much better mother to my son today than I would have been if I'd gotten my heart's desire earlier. My longing, my despair, my pain molded me into someone both softer and stronger, more confident and willing to trust myself while at the same time more willing to admit that I don't have all the answers. Above all, I think those years of waiting caused me to treasure my son more than I would have otherwise. It is human nature that my son will probably never appreciate this, because, God willing, he will never know any differently. But that's okay. It's enough that I know and can see some of the reasons that I had to wait. He was more than worth it.