BACK AND FORTH

 

Sunlight creeping through the blinds 
Sound machines to drown out noise 
All the details are so clear to me

Baskets filled with blocks and balls
Shelves and shelves of books and dolls
I look down and never want to leave 

Back and forth we rock and sway 
Wouldn’t have it any other way 
Your eyes are closed 
Your fingers curled
Darling, you are my whole world 
I think about how life has taken course 
As we rock back and forth 

Memories roll through my mind 
Of when you came into my life 
I can’t imagine not having you around 

Snuggled in so safe and warm 
We both dream of what’s to come
I don’t want to ever put you down

Back and forth we rock and sway 
Wouldn’t have it any other way 
Your little lips
Your button nose
I’m so tired, but that’s how it goes
I smile cause I couldn’t love you more 
And we rock back and forth 

Back and forth
Back and forth 

 

GENTLE

 
D20DEEF8-AA06-4C57-82D7-7DC43815E84B.jpg

“Gentle,” I say in a soft voice as I take her hand and stroke the baby doll’s head. “Gentle,” I remind as I show her how to properly pet our dog, Georgia. “Gentle,” I whisper as I show her how to greet small friends her size.

She is 14 months old.

So, there are lots of words and phrases we repeat throughout the day.

No no.
Clap your hands.
High five!
Give mama kiss.
Where’s dada?
Yay!


But, “gentle,” has been at the top of the list lately.

In the repetition and soft correction of the word and motion one morning, something happened in my spirit.

As I was teaching her the importance of being gentle with someone or something, I felt the Lord say, “My child, why aren’t you gentle with yourself?” It was a deep thought—one with a weight and heaviness that sits with you for a while.

Why is it important to be gentle?
Am I too hard on myself?
What does it mean to treat myself with gentleness?

The world of motherhood has opened my eyes to the truth that as I parent Charlotte, the Lord parents me. As I guide Charlotte, the Lord guides me. As I teach Charlotte, the Lord teaches me.

He wraps His arms around me.
He lavishes His grace upon me.
He brings my hand to my face saying, “Gentle, my child. Gentle.” Parents. Guides. Teaches.
Wraps. Lavishes. Brings.

All present tense.

I am 28 years old.

So, there are lots of words and phrases He repeats throughout the day.

You are enough.
I am with you.
I love you.
I have called you to this.
Give yourself grace.
Gentle.

 

THROUGH HER EYES

 
EB306E96-BD91-41D7-BF0B-6A8A2E2253A4.JPG

I let out a sigh of exhaustion as we rock back and forth.

The toys are picked up. The laundry is put away. The final daylight is creeping through the blinds.

The silence is loud as she drinks the last drop of her bottle and nestles in my arms.

This is when my best thinking happens – a great idea, a new recipe to try, something I’m thankful for. Unfortunately, it’s also when my worst thinking happens.

And, not “worst” like bad. More like destructive or harmful.

As the day closes, I feel my mind trying to get the best of me. We rocked and my thoughts turned toward my body. One thought led to another, as they do, and I continued down the path of self-critiquing.

Swollen fingers.
Tired eyes.
Softer stomach.
Weaker arms.

I was on a roll.

Negative Thoughts: 1
Ashley: 0

I glanced down at my daughter who had her tiny fingers wrapped around mine.

Sometimes our negative thoughts consume us for hours, days, weeks, or longer. But those little fingers grasping mine stopped me in my tracks.

To her, my swollen fingers poke her belly and tickle her back. They push her on the swing and play “this little piggy.”

To her, my tired eyes gaze into hers each night, letting her know she’s safe to fall asleep. They meet hers each morning and remind her that “mommy always comes back.”

To her, my softer stomach is where she buries bashfully when daddy teases, “I’m gonna get you.”

To her, my weaker arms scoop her up when she crawls toward me and wrap her up in bedtime snuggles.

Negative Thoughts: 0
Ashley: 1

Oh, to see myself through her eyes.

I am safe. I am fun. I am silly. I am strong.

This time, the negative thoughts didn’t win.

It brought me joy to think about all the ways I have used and still use my body for my daughter.

From pregnancy to birth and breastfeeding. From midnight newborn rocks to strolls around our neighborhood. From crawling after her around the house to cuddling her in my lap for story-time.

To the other moms out there who have an ongoing mental list of all the ways their body has changed postpartum, I see you. I am you. And, I encourage you to make a new list. Make a list of things you love about your body. Make a list of all the ways your body works to be a mother. Make a list of all the ways your children see you.

May we see ourselves like the safe, fun, silly and strong moms that our children do.