by Anna
So there it is. There is this tiny-teeny human being that I call my son and who, one day, will call me 'Mummy'. His dad already refers to me as 'Mummy'. That is my new name. And I love it (even if it still feels somewhat surreal).
I look at the little Breadcrumb, count the fingers and the toes over and over again, marvel over his little achievements (he smiles at me now!) and love overwhelms me to a point of squeezing tears from my eyes (yes, the postpartum hormones are probably to blame). Loving him seems so easy!
But then comes a time where I want to read something, or talk to a friend, or just plain sleep and I cannot, because the little Breadcrumb is hungry, or has caught wind, which makes him feel miserable, or just wants to exchange coos and smiles because he's wide awake and feeling sociable. And that's when it hits me: my new name is Mummy. And when it comes to day-to-day living, that is my only name for the time being. Suddenly loving him is not that easy - a part of me revolts because it wants to be Anna, do what Anna wants to do and not what Mummy needs to.
Well, it's all about balance and, in this situation, about timing. Anna needs to wait for Breadcrumb to be asleep (although often when Breadcrumb is asleep, Mummy needs to wash his clothes and order groceries or just sleep herself). But that's not my point (although it is an idea to ponder).
My point is that as a mother, I am in a unique position to explore love. As a Christian, I strive to be loving, to love others the way Jesus told me to love, the way Paul so beautifully described in 1 Corinthians 13:4-7. However, that kind of love is not easy, if not contrary to human nature. And here I am, that exact kind of love pouring out of me every day, even when it's hard, and I realise that I can learn a lot about agape from loving my child. No matter how difficult it may be at times, we, mothers, do it without even thinking. I now know, really know, what it feels like, to love someone that way.
Drumroll please... this (if not even more) is how God loves me.
Wow.
What a breath-taking, head-spinning, humbling realisation, beautiful to the point of squeezing tears from my eyes (and I don't think it has that much to do with postpartum hormones).
But the other side of the coin is that now the bar is raised: how do I love others - particularly those without ten cute fingers and ten cute toes - that same way?
So there it is. There is this tiny-teeny human being that I call my son and who, one day, will call me 'Mummy'. His dad already refers to me as 'Mummy'. That is my new name. And I love it (even if it still feels somewhat surreal).
I look at the little Breadcrumb, count the fingers and the toes over and over again, marvel over his little achievements (he smiles at me now!) and love overwhelms me to a point of squeezing tears from my eyes (yes, the postpartum hormones are probably to blame). Loving him seems so easy!
But then comes a time where I want to read something, or talk to a friend, or just plain sleep and I cannot, because the little Breadcrumb is hungry, or has caught wind, which makes him feel miserable, or just wants to exchange coos and smiles because he's wide awake and feeling sociable. And that's when it hits me: my new name is Mummy. And when it comes to day-to-day living, that is my only name for the time being. Suddenly loving him is not that easy - a part of me revolts because it wants to be Anna, do what Anna wants to do and not what Mummy needs to.
Well, it's all about balance and, in this situation, about timing. Anna needs to wait for Breadcrumb to be asleep (although often when Breadcrumb is asleep, Mummy needs to wash his clothes and order groceries or just sleep herself). But that's not my point (although it is an idea to ponder).
My point is that as a mother, I am in a unique position to explore love. As a Christian, I strive to be loving, to love others the way Jesus told me to love, the way Paul so beautifully described in 1 Corinthians 13:4-7. However, that kind of love is not easy, if not contrary to human nature. And here I am, that exact kind of love pouring out of me every day, even when it's hard, and I realise that I can learn a lot about agape from loving my child. No matter how difficult it may be at times, we, mothers, do it without even thinking. I now know, really know, what it feels like, to love someone that way.
Drumroll please... this (if not even more) is how God loves me.
Wow.
What a breath-taking, head-spinning, humbling realisation, beautiful to the point of squeezing tears from my eyes (and I don't think it has that much to do with postpartum hormones).
But the other side of the coin is that now the bar is raised: how do I love others - particularly those without ten cute fingers and ten cute toes - that same way?