When it's through, it's through
Fate will twist the both of you
So come on baby, come on over
Let me be the one to show you
ASHLEY, COMMANDING OFFICER.
It's been 4.5 months since Henry arrived. Did I have a life before then? But, maybe my life really became different about 8 months ago, when we moved to Beaufort?
It's crazy the change a year can make.
This time last year, I was newly pregnant and scared out of my mind. I was a registered nurse in the second busiest emergency room in South Carolina. I lived alone (with the dogs) in a home that Tomato and I owned. I lived in the same town as my family. Though we never had a good relationship, my mother was still alive. I was hitting the gym as much as I breathed oxygen. I was 26 years old.
Fast forward a year, I have a son. A SON. Tomato and I live under the same roof, in the same town. We live in Beaufort. The closest family is 2 hours away (I realize that it could be worse). I'm a stay-at-home mother. My body is broken and scarred, having been stretched to capacity and much worse. I have lingering heartburn and leaky boobs. I realize that what I thought my life would be, will never be... I am 27 years old.
...and I am the happiest I have ever been in my life.
Transitioning to stay-at-home mother has not been without it's difficulties. Often, I find myself pondering my purpose. Often, I second guess myself. Often, I mourn the loss of my perceived dreams. I submerge myself in an unrealistic amount of "hobbies" and "functions" just to feel like I am making use of my life. To stay relevant and appreciated.
And then...
I look at our home and realize how far we've come. How we've matured and grown. How responsibility was planted and nurtured. I see our branches in the photos on the walls, the toys that are strewn around and the dinner cooking on the stove. I feel the love we have for each other, not because of the things that surround us, but because of the journey we've walked together. I pray that God never allows me to forget the warmth of this security, of this feeling.
I look at my body and realize that it's scarred, but it's used. I wasn't intended to chase youth until the day that I die. I am intended to live. I am intended to use this body to it's potential. To use it up until I have stretch marks and laugh lines, crows feet and grey hair. A map of my life is written all over me and it's nothing I should be ashamed of. I pray that God never allows me to forget what my body is capable of. That every line is a tattoo that tells my story.
Then, I look down at my baby. He may be nursing, playing, smiling at me, laughing or looking at me as if I'm the most magnificent person he's ever laid eyes on. I kiss his tiny, stubby little fingers and pray that God will never allow me to forget the feeling of his soft, wrinkly skin on my lips.
Then, as I lay next to my husband before going to sleep for the night, we reminisce on the days that aren't too far gone. We agree that life is better now. Then, he kisses me and I pray that God never allows me to forget this simple moment, the scratch of his face, the warmth of his hand in mine and the graciousness of his heart. The promise that there is better yet, to come.
The only thing I want when I'm old and used up, is to remember these moments. Because, no matter what I was before these moments, THESE moments are the best of my life. These moments bring promise and fulfillment. There is nothing that can fulfill me more than these seconds, minutes, hours, days, months, years...
And that's all I have to say today.
Love your journey.
No matter where you are, no matter what it entails.
Song of the Day:
To Be With You by Mr. Big
To Be With You by Mr. Big
(my mother's favorite song)
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