Learning curve

If, reader, this all sounds horribly familiar, and you are currently caught up in the tidal waves of new motherhood, it gets better.  And it doesn't. You meet some people who are moms, so even when it sucks, you can suck together. You learn to accept help, (or if you don't, do.  Just trust me on this one, I know it's tough, but really, do it anyway.) You find a routine that may not be perfect, but at least keeps you from the mental ward, summer comes, hormones recede, and the next thing you know they are growing up.  The fog begins to lift, and you realize you are still a person after all, and your name is not really mom. You have a history of rough days to look back upon, and realize you have a hundred percent survival rate. There is a flicker of hope.

That being said, every seemingly endless challenge is resolved and replaced by another. Your whole world can be consumed by the fact that your baby has colic or won't nap, and then suddenly, it's gone, and they are sick, or potty training, or back talking, or you have to juggle two, or.....

My Morgan has been one challenge after another for me since the day she tried to come early, or maybe the day she hid from the ultrasound technician. I think God made her a special key to all my buttons. That child can bring out my ugly faster than 8 jack and cokes. It never ceases to amaze me how you can love someone so intensely you would fight a gang of thugs like a mama grizzly, and yet want to strangle that same child yourself, and if you haven't felt that way, you either haven't been a mom very long, or else you lie like a rug, or I'll trade you kids (kidding). I think God made her special, so that I would a) appreciate my mother in a whole new way,  b) so I all my weaknesses would be out there exposed, and in the interest of not permanently damaging my child, I would try to fix them, and c), I would have to sink so low, that all I could do was learn to lean into Him.

I have a great husband y'all ( I don't really say y'all in real life, I just thought it would be fun), but he's human, and he can't be at work and holding my hand every time I'd like to break down, he can't read my mind, and he can't substitute for a good nights sleep, so by the second child, I was starting to figure out that I needed to depend elsewhere if I expected that kind of help. I leaned, and I prayed, and help came, in the form of grace when I was worn out, patience when I wanted to loose my temper, forgiveness when patience didn't come quickly enough, time on days that I gave Him some back, and in an army of women who must have a direct line to when I most need a break, or an ear, or a meal. It's a long way from perfect, to which the child mentioned above will attest, but I survived those first days, and I'm growing, I'm learning that sometimes strength doesn't mean going it alone, and we are both learning a thing or two about humbleness and forgiveness,. So hang in, new mamas, and have faith.