A mother's day

Yesterday was Mothers Day. Mothering runs deep in my veins as I am sure it does for many women. When my children were small I felt like such a good parent. I received many compliments on how my children were so well behaved, and I got really comfortable with my status as a good mom. As my kids get older I realize I am not the perfect parent, and there is nothing that can prepare you for when your sweet and loving babies turn into cell phone junkies declaring their right to privacy. Upon waking yesterday I heard rustling in the kitchen. Being the good mother that I am and not wanting to ruin any suprise of a pancake breakfast in bed, I stayed in bed and waited. Laying in bed waiting for the smell of pancakes to start swirling in from down the hall I started thinking about our unborn baby boy, mainly if this would be the only mothers day he would spend with us. I really hate it when I think like that but I haven't totally figured out how not to. Tears were soaking my pillow and my thoughts turned to my older children, we have been dealing with a lot of disrespect issues and other behavior issues. Mother's day... the words kept running through my mind. It used to be a day that felt well deserved. Now it feels more like a day of mourning, failures, and fears. In no way do I mean my children are failures, it's me I wonder about. It's hard when you are involved in a massive pity party to look outside of yourself, but I also thought about all of the women who are unable to have children, or have children that have passed away, or that are grown and long gone. I soaked my pillow a little more for them. By this point I was wondering why the pancakes weren't saturating my bedroom with their sweetness. I wondered if they had switched to eggs, they know i don't care for eggs, but they also probably know I would dutifully eat them with a smile and gratefulness. About then a teenager popped into my room with a cup of coffee that was quickly slipped on my nightstand and in a blink she was gone. The coffee was wonderful, and each sip brought me a little bit further out of my pity party. My husband came down and chatted with me for a few minutes and that conversation revealed that there wasn't any breakfast coming. The kids had thought about it and even started getting out supplies, but no one could decide who was going to cook, so no one did. It didn't matter. I truthfully wasn't that hungry, and the coffee had tasted better than normal. I made a choice to be happy with what I had. My husband, my children, my unborn baby with who knows how many problems, my less than neat house, and my less than dry pillow. I have been praying for the strength to embrace my life as it is, my husband as he is, my children as they are, especially peanut, to not fear his life or lack there of, but to love each moment that he is alive inside of me. So as I arose out of bed I took God's word and promises with me in my heart. The living room held all of my children and I felt such a love for each and every one of them and if God loves me anywhere near how much I love them, then I know I have nothing to fear.