We
had an incident one morning. Well, I had an incident.
I
was tired from another restless night of pregnancy-meets-toddler-momma. I
was tired from trying to wrestle my children out of their beds and get them to
stop whimpering about not wanting to “go to Terri’s” (which just means they
wanted to play instead of having to get ready) long enough to tell me what they
wanted for breakfast. I was tired of debating about who got to get the spoons
out of the drawer, and waiting for them to concede that they in fact could not
reach them without my help to open the child-proof drawer latch. I was just down-right tired. So when my three year old proclaimed that she wanted
the “pink bowl” (of which in her limited understanding of color she didn't
realize there was none of – red or purple yes, but no pink), I lost
it. I lost it even more when my four year old demanded that he wanted the
“pink bowl” (this from the kid whose understanding is not limited in this area,
and actually DOES know what purple is). Followed by him pushing his
sister, trying to stealing the bowl off the counter, almost spilling the
“Cinnamon Cereal” within it, leading to his little sister’s ridiculous wailing
that culminated it all. They were out of control, and I was getting there
quickly!
By
the time I got done moving them both as far away from me as I could in our
small kitchen, scolding that “we don’t get to pick our bowls and we will
take whatever Momma picks for you, especially since you never finish all
your cereal anyways,” and putting their RED and PURPLE bowls down on the
table in their respective seats, both kids were crying. And Momma almost
was. Luckily for all of us, Dadda came to take over so I could walk
away. Not my finest hour as a mother! (But then again, when
has 7:00am EVER been my finest hour?)
After
cooling down, and seeing the kids eat just fine from whatever colored bowls
were in front of them, I realized that, unfortunately, they get it from me.
I
like to pick. I like things my way. I like to have a say in
what I do and get in life. Who doesn’t? But my tendency to want to
pick, even wanting options that aren’t available, it seemed was rubbing off on
my children. And my next child was a prime example.
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- - - - - - - - -
As
an expecting-mother, I wanted a girl. I grew up with sisters, and have an
incredibly unique relationship with one now as an adult. I also love
seeing the unique relationship between my Mother and her sisters still.
So I wanted that for Lilly too. Plus, I had a girls name all picked out
(I just had to convince Mike of it). I had butterfly curtain rods in the
nursery that still made me smile, and could picture myself rocking that lovely
little girl to sleep, whispering how beautiful and cherished she is to
GOD. Yes, I could see myself with another little girl!
But,
I also wanted a boy. Mike talked about how he never had a brother, and so
how much he longed for Adrian to have that special relationship he’s never been
blessed with; it made me want that for him too. Plus, Mike had a boys
name all picked out (and as much as I pretended I thought it was silly, it was
actually quite nice; I just wanted him to “convince” me a bit more). I
had blue crib bumpers in the nursery that still made me feel calm, and could
picture myself tucking in that gorgeous little boy, whispering how handsome and
cherished he is to GOD. Yes, I could see myself with another little
boy!
People
would ask if we knew what we were having. People would ask what we were
hoping for. People would comment on us having one of each already, so
this one’s gender didn’t matter, right? But it did matter, to me.
Because I really wanted another daughter! But I also really
wanted another son! Though I didn't want two at once necessarily (which other
than for about 36 hours in April, we knew wasn’t an option), I just couldn’t decide
what my heart desired; I wanted both. Despite it not being an available
option, I wanted the "pink bowl!"
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- - - - - - - - -
This
week our family had another incident. Like
the last time, it happened in the early morning
hours. I was once again tired (oh-so down-right
tired!); there was once again a good share of crying on the part of two
generations; and once again my husband was there to help out. But this
time, instead of wrestling with my three and four year olds, I found myself in
a fight with a newborn – their stubborn will against mine, both trying
to set our own timing for their arrival. And though
they won (I have got to find a way past this
multi-digit hours-long labor, not to mention the two week pre-labor this time!) it was one of my
finest hours as a mother! (Who knew that 6:00am
EVER could be my finest hour?)
And
this time, instead of walking away, I have been spending the last day holding on tight, staying as close as I can to
my new, beautiful DAUGHTER!
Though
I wanted a boy AND wanted a girl, though I couldn’t decide where my heart’s
desire lied for the nine months prior to this, I knew without a doubt when Mike
told me what we’d been blessed with, that I had just managed to somehow get the
pink bowl! Not because I got an option that wasn’t available, but
because I got the option that GOD had picked for me. GOD my
Mother set that beautiful child down in front of me, sweeter than “Cinnamon
Cereal,” and I knew that despite what I may have thought I wanted or what I
could never quite decide on, this option is just right for me. This
option is filled with a lifetime’s supply of blessings, more than I will ever
fully be able to take in. Thank goodness GOD put Her foot down and chose
for me; because this option is perfect!
And
welcoming them has certainly been among my finest hours indeed!
Welcome
to my little “pink bowl,” my cup of blessing overflowing, my …
Layla Josephine!!
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