It wasn't the fit throwing alone. It was the broken up sleep I got night after night. It was the colicky fits from my newborn. It was my husband coming home late because of school. It was the third day in a row in the same saggy sweatpants, dirty button down shirt, and messy bun. It was the overwhelming thought that my children's sole survival depended on me...ME...the one who feels like she is drowning in this overwhelming thought of responsibility.
These moments came often.
I let myself sink into a dark place day after day. I would dread going to bed knowing that I would have to get up the next morning and do it all over again. I had forgotten the many many sweet moments I had with my babies. I lived in the bad, the hard, and the exhausting moments...all the time. I had lost myself. Lost my trust and reliance on God.
The Doctor put her tiny, squirmy body in my arms. I remember feeling relief. Relief from the pains of labor. Relief from the bulging belly I carried for nine months. Relief from anticipation of waiting on her arrival. She was finally here. In my arms. Grabbing at my thumb with her tiny, delicate hands. I had imagined what she would look like. Brown hair, blue eyes, button nose. She exceeded every one of my expectations. She was beautiful with her thick black hair and adorable dimple chin that matched her daddy's. Even her hands were pretty. Long, lean fingers, with perfectly "manicured" nails.
I had imagined who she would become. A younger sister wanting to be like her older brother. Wanting to do all the things he could do but better. She would have the competitive spunk that I had growing up. A tom boy in every way but at the same time, my girly girl. She would be a daddy's girl. Loving him with all her heart and soul until one day she would meet her spouse. I imagined a man for her who followed Christ in all the ways of his life. A man who would lead her and her children to Heaven. A man who loved her for every part of her. Like her daddy loved her mommy.
"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future."
Christ had a pan for my sweet sleeping baby. For only a few moments she would suckling her pacifier while snuggling in my arms. For only a few moments she would depend on me for her needs. For only a few moments she would have colicky fits. All too soon she would become the person God planned her to be.
This pulled me out of the darkness I had let myself live in. Christ had a plan for me too. To prosper. Not to harm me. I was exhausted. I was overwhelmed. I was burdened with sadness. But Christ had a plan for me. And part of that plan was to raise my sleeping baby girl to become a follower of my Father. To help her become the woman Christ planned for her to be.
I still have sleepless nights. I still deal with fits and screaming. I still have moments where I feel overwhelmed but I find peace in this verse in Jeremiah. Christ takes my burden, He pull me into the light, and He has a plan for me to prosper. I can only do this Mom thing with His help.