"He settles the barren woman in her home as a happy mother of children" Psalm 113:9
That was my verse. My prayer and my heart's cry going on 9 years ago now. Sometimes it hits me how blessed I am to be a Mommy. I wish it would hit me more often. But sometimes, unexpectedly, I am struck by the sheer wonder of having been blessed to grow and nurture two beautiful babies in my womb. To feel life grow and move inside was truly a miracle that I so delighted in, especially since there was a time when I didn't think I would get to have that experience that so many others take for granted. I was the pregnant woman that most other women secretly (or not so) despise. I adored being pregnant. Relished it, reveled in it, gloried in the miracle of it. And now my little miracles are 5 and 7. So hard to believe.
I remember taking McKenna to her pediatrician for a well visit. The doctor asked me if she was saying "Mama" yet. "No," I told him, "she's saying Dada a lot though!" Dr. Toledo looked at me and said jokingly, "Just you wait. There will come a time when you wish she didn't say your name!" At that time, I couldn't fathom that that day would ever come. Sure enough, Dr. Toledo's words have proved prophetic at times. "MOMMY!! McKenna hit me!" "MOMMY!! MOMMY!! I need (another) drink of water." "MMMMOMMMMM-EEEEEEEEEEE!" Yes, those are the times I wish they were saying "Daddy" (grin).
But then there are the times when those two syllables: Mommy (from McKenna) and Mama (from Molly) are uttered in such a way that brings a joy and love so deep as to break my heart. I am McKenna and Molly's Mommy, and I am indeed blessed.
No comments:
Post a Comment