Voice: an instrument or medium of expression

I have been struggling to find my voice. My new voice. My voice as a Mother. I knew myself before. I had learnt of myself as a woman, as a daughter, as a friend, as a student  as a wife, as an expectant mother. But who am I now?

This world that I have entered into is beautiful, fascinating, overwhelming and frighting all at once. I feel so naive. So immature. How can I speak with any authority on anything? How did I speak before? I know so little. I am learning. Oh, I am learning so very much. But it all comes so quickly I feel there is hardly a moment to sit and write it down before I am learning something new and of much greater importance.

A mother. Me? A mother is one with wisdom, knowledge and understanding. A mother is one with experience and skill. The precious author, Mike Mason says, "If only I had understood that being a father is not something I needed to become but something I already was... Over time I could grow in maturity as a father, but I would never be more of a father than I was at the outset." I long to grasp this.

Motherhood didn't arrive gradually, like pregnancy. It didn't grow gently and predictably within a span of 40 weeks. No. It came all at once. In one fantastic moment the magnificent burden of motherhood was placed on my shoulders.

Shortly after my last post on Christmas Eve we came to the realization that Beatrice was small, too small. She spit up excessively, not painfully, and mostly with a smile on her face, but the first few months of this year were spent trying to determine the cause. This was so hard for me. My first true challenge in the role of "Mother" and I had no idea what I was doing. I wrestled with God, with all the advice I was given and with my own doubts and insecurities. I didn't feel I was in a place where writing here would benefit anyone.

Nothing at all was wrong with her. We began feeding her vegetables at 4 and 1/2 months. Which broke my heart (I had wanted to wait). But as a dear friend graciously reminded me, "it is not about my desires for her life, but God's." Once she began her solid foods of avocado and sweet potato, the breastmilk stayed down and she began to "look" healthy again. She is still small, but I am learning to smile when people comment on her size, knowing that this is how the Lord made her. She is my "little one".

But what I have struggled with is this. How do I share our struggles and trials without sounding like I ungrateful for what I have been given? And how do I rejoice in the small moments of joy Beatrice shares with us every day without sounding like I am full of pride. The internet can so quickly become a place of comparison, which many mothers (including myself) have said can be such a cause of grief and despair. Wouldn't it defeat the very meaning of my little one's life? She is my "bringer of joy", not sorrow.

So I will continue to struggle; for I have been granted that freedom.

I have not found my voice yet, no, but 4 years after my precious mother's entrance to heaven, I can tell you that I am more grateful than ever for her constant pursuit of wisdom and knowledge. She was not perfect, but she was my mother.

I have been pondering the following two sentences this morning as I seek to parent my every growing little one who will be 8 months tomorrow. I will leave you with them... what a glorious burden indeed. "There are certain virtues worth acquiring, such as kindness, goodness, gentleness, charity, honesty, honor, and respect. Since these qualities are not naturally found in a child's life, they must be instilled and nurtured into his or her heart." -Parenting Author