I only glanced into her eyes.

I wanted to get my eyes onto the new life she carried with her.

Sleeping soundly. That whole sleeping like a baby thing. The seasoned pros know what the novices learn quickly – sleeping like a baby is not sleeping at all. It’s a brief peace interrupted by the restless squirm of an empty tummy or a full diaper. Sleeping like a baby might as well be called sleepless in (name your city).

I hugged my friend’s neck as they made their way through the gauntlet of our home. Passing carefully booby-trapped areas of trains, dolls, cars, and random kid items lead to the safe haven of the back room. The den. I can manage to keep one safe zone at a time. This one place where foot injury by Lego is least likely. Only one zone at a time. Someday… someday we’ll be able to tread freely in our four walls. Truth? I dread that day.

I finally looked into her sweet mama eyes and saw this glimmer of a look that triggered a foggy memory. I knew that look. Almost like looking into a distant mirror. Funny how in a certain light we all look the same…

How are you? How has it been going?

She smiled and we exchanged the pleasantries. The joys of motherhood and the blessing of babies. The sweet smells of the miracle of newborn life. The beginning curve of the lips when we realize the smile looking into our eyes has nothing to do with gas. We ooh-ed and aah-ed at the precious pink package who lay soundly sleeping in her car seat.

How are you… really?

That familiar strain of her eyes caught my heart. Those memories of sleepless wonder and delirium woke the newborn mama corner of my mind.

Oh, I remember like it was yesterday. It’s hard, isn’t it? Brutal to be so tired.

She nodded and smiled,

It was a rough day yesterday. I’m just not myself. I’m just so tired.

I nodded and saw that familiar beast prowling around us,

Yea, and you feel guilty. Because you want to enjoy this more. But you can’t because you are just too exhausted.

Her eyes filled.

Mine filled in unison with my dear friend. Oh, this lie. It enrages me. This pure joy and mighty miracle of new life is snuffed with the tale that we should relish every minute. Capture every moment in gratitude. Hold every hallowed waking moment in the shrine of our thankful mother hearts. But, the truth? We are awake every waking moment. And it’s brutal. Our soldiers and warriors are trained to withstand the torture of crying babies. It is a form of torture – this listening to tender new life… cry.

I looked into my sweet friend’s mother eyes,

You know, I remember after my fourth baby was born. My mother-in-law came to visit. She gave birth to and raised nine children. I told her I wanted so badly to enjoy this, but I was dying from exhaustion. What was wrong with me?

Her eyes fixed on mine and I went on,

She told me, “Oh, Karin, you want to survive this part. You’ll enjoy it soon.”

That was it. Off the hook. Guilt got a one-way ticket out.

My friend and I smiled as the relief released us both. Sometimes we have to hear it again. Sometimes we have to know the truth over and over again. Gratitude and joy can exist right in the middle of the blues – they might just appear cloudy for a while. And it’s all ok. Guilt is the lie. Guilt snarls,

You aren’t grateful enough. You don’t deserve this gift. You aren’t cut out for this. You are not enough.

And it’s a lie. You are enough.

You are enough when the new life enters this world.

You are enough when the toddlers scream and shriek and drive to you to madness – and your fifth cup of coffee.

You are enough when the attitudes grow in these young growing bodies – and you wish, for a second, they were little again.

You are enough when they grow up and grow out – and you wonder why you ever begrudged a moment of time with them.

You are enough – if you have never birthed life to another soul and you wonder why.

You are enough.  

You are enough in the middle of the messes, the mayhem, the fear, and the failures.

You are enough.  Because He is enough. 

And He hasn’t left us alone.  He’s walking us through the season.

The guilt – it entangles us and we trudge along under its weight doing and trying. Doing and trying and plodding along with one good hand, while the other slowly goes to our throats and squeezes. Choking the love of life right out of us.

We are free. Free to bring our hands down from the self-choke hold. Free to breathe and behold the gifts in front of us – even in the weary moments. The guilt is a lie – the joy is real. Even under the fog of survival.

The little one in the car seat began to stir. We crowded around as the new eyes flickered. She stretched her little arms toward the heavens as her baby blues opened.

These tiny arms opening up – to joy, to life – to the grateful gaze of her mother.

 

Hebrews 10:22-23

let us draw near to God with a sincere heart and with the full assurance that faith brings, having our hearts sprinkled to cleanse us from a guilty conscience and having our bodies washed with pure water. Let us hold unswervingly to the hope we profess, for he who promised is faithful.