Just a Phase

I have only been at this wonderfully trying, refining thing called motherhood for 843 days.  I had no idea what I was getting into that Sunday morning when Ethan entered the world, which makes me absolutely certain I have no idea what is still to come.  But I'm stopping to takes notes along the way.  To pep talk myself with the tiny bit I've realized this far:

It's all a phase. 

During Ethan's first few months of life, I spent my days engulfed in a state of loneliness I thought would never end.  I thought having a newborn was going to open my eyes to a glorious, rich new world, and instead, I was birth-maimed and in pain, alone all day in a with a babble-less baby and an unfathomable amount of laundry.  I lamented my state (but never my baby!) and thought surely my soul would rot along with the poop-smells. 

But it was just a phase.

A season later, when Ethan would kick and squirm and wrestle me through every diaper change, I thought I was going to lose my mind.  I was quite certain he'd overpower me, leave me with black eyes and broken bones while he ruled the roost alfresco.  But he didn't.  And a few seasons later, he stopped fighting.  It was a long, annoying phase, but it was just a phase.

Each phase has plenty of irritations and requires certain sacrifices.   Being tied to the house for nap-time, packing diaper bags, traveling with Pack-n-Plays, being confined to wearing clothes that allow easy access for feeding,  not being able to relaxingly eat dinner in public.  It requires such a heart-battle to willingly, joyfully give all of myself away, even when I'm giving to those I love most.

But now, I know it's just a phase, and that makes the surrender so much easier..  I don't need to wallow in pity like I did before.  I don't have to worry myself silly over schedules or getting everything just right; I know now that the second I finally feel comfortable with life, the boys will grow, their needs will change, and I'll have to adjust all over again. 

I know now that while there will be new difficulties, there will also be new reasons to celebrate.  And when the current difficulties fade, some of the previous things I've cherished will vanish with them. 

Ethan's only two and already I ache with the knowledge that childhood is so, so fleeting.  Every day has moments to cherish, and I'm fighting with all that's in me to ensure I don't miss them.