Ella Abes
All the clichés about motherhood made sense the second I heard the loud cries of my child. It was tiring yet empowering, chaotic, and peaceful at the same time. Just when I thought that my most blissful days would arrive as my baby set foot here on Earth, reality humbled me. They all warned me, "Hello, sleepless nights," but I never understood the weight of it until three days (with only about three hours of broken sleep a day) after my child was born. I have never been more exhausted; panic led me, making me second-guess if I really deserve to be a mother. Question after question: Will I ever sleep for at least two hours straight? Will my life get back to normal? When can I take a calm shower without hearing phantom cries? Do I deserve this innocent child? Like clockwork, anxiety comes knocking on sundown with a tag on its neck that says, "Not today, sleep." Anxiety visits for months.
In the quiet of the night, my baby screams. How can I console her if I can't calm myself after ten attempts at putting her down? I doubt I can make it with a smile as another sun rises. Finally, I fall asleep for what feels like 30 minutes. When morning comes, I still have it me, the upward curve on my lips that only God can draw through my baby, His greatest blessing. I admit there are countless moments of weakness, but my answered prayers always outnumber them.
In the middle of the day, when they say, "Sleep when the baby sleeps," drowsiness is out of the window. I can't rest even if I barely slept the night before; this all feels new to me. Our laundry of two now becomes four. I didn't know that little body needed several daily outfit changes like she had two. Apparently, I can't pee because the moment I walk towards the toilet, the baby wakes up. The thought of having another life depend on me scares me, but I close my eyes, and He strengthens me. Suddenly, I can do anything. They say you can't pour from an empty cup, but God never fails to refill my cup; I didn't have to ask.
Then, one sundown, anxiety was nowhere to be found. Suddenly, I know what a goo-goo cry means and what a waah-waah cry means. I can juggle a hungry baby, dirty plates, and clothes that need folding all at once. Honestly, it's tiring. Surprisingly, it's fun that it's tiring. I'm good at this. No, I'm great at this thing called motherhood. God restored my confidence. He knew I could do this; He gave me a challenging baby because He knew I could handle it. He uses my daughter to strengthen me. Had I not put my trust in Him, I'd be miserable to this day.
Fifteen months later, I can confidently say yes to all those questions. Time and time again, God renews my will, reveals my strength, and refuels my patience. I don't think I could have ever gotten through the first year of motherhood without my faith in Christ. Those newborn nights were a reminder that anxiety is a peace stealer and faith alone can restore inner peace. My daughter, no matter how innocent, consumes most of me, but I am always reminded that the Holy Spirit is infinite. I may be half-filled, but never an empty cup.
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