Friday, June 8, 2012

expecting // fear and light

there is a new rush of emotion in my life at present, of realizing that i am going to be the mother of a little one in less than twelve weeks now.

the reality that my little person is already starting to make her presence known on a regular basis, and the whimsy that tugs at my heart whenever i start to think about holding her in my arms.

{26 weeks and ever-growing)
and for a moment, i turned whimsical.

and then i froze in my tracks.

:: i'm going to be a mum ::

and the petrifying concept, which had been occurring to me in the beauty and delight of pregnancy, sank in with a sonic boom that shook my foundations and led me to weeping in the middle of the night.

am i ready for this?

my expectations have turned from whimsy to fear and back again.

they say that no one is ever ready for this, not really. that you can prepare all you want, and then still be entirely unprepared for all that comes alongside the birth of a tiny new person that has your husband's eyes and perhaps too much of your spirit.

i look at mothers who seem to have it all together, and i shake with the terror that i might not be as good as they are. that i could say the wrong thing, that i could do something that would cast splotches of indelible tar-like ink on this little girl's still-blank canvas.

is this something that comes with impending motherhood, along with the passion to clean everything in sight, and then to eat everything in sight, and then repeat both actions over again until house and fridge are both equally clean?

i wish i could wrap this up in a tidy little bow, express some truth that i am entirely confident that i've got this, that i can manage this and that my worry flitted away on the breeze.

but i can't do that. i don't think i will ever be able to do that, to cast aside every shred of fear that i have and just run away.

but i'm not doing this alone. there is a Rock that is greater than i, a song that is louder than my fears, and a Saviour who is holding my hand with the softest whispers

I am a Father.
you are a mother. 
i understand. 
and we will parent together, daughter. 

can i do this on my own? never.

but then, i'm never alone. 

i am co-parenting with the King of Kings. 


  1. Oh this is so good! And your conclusion is even better than saying you've got all the confidence you need. Instead, you know that God is with you. Beautiful.

  2. oh rachel, we are all scraping by and doing the best we can. and sometimes doing our not-best, too, and there is grace even for that.

    this little one woven in you--you are already the mother she needs. you will love and you will wrestle, you will worry, and you will know that God's grace overflows and it is all you and that sweet babe need. xo

  3. your daughter is so lucky already to have such a loving mama :)

  4. Just remember that the mom's that "seem like they have it all together" really don't. They just stress more and enjoy less! I "used to be" one of them....working on it daily ;) Enjoy each moment, they pass all too quickly. You are enough, God says so ~ for you have Him and He is all y'all will need! :) Stoppin by from FMF :) :)

  5. smiles....this made me remember my own moment of panic as being a father...ha...the realization rocked me pretty well...and you will be fine...none of us really knows what we are doing with kids...and we stumble forward and hopefully they do get a bit of our spirit a good way...smiles.


I look at you and see all the ways a soul can bruise, and I wish I could sink my hands into your flesh and light lanterns along your spine so you know there's nothing but light when I see you. :: Shinji Moon