Let me introduce you to the boy who gave me the title, “Mom”.
His name is Daxxon Michael.
Born on Saturday morning, January 19 at 8:44am.
Weighing in at 7 pounds, 8 ounces. Measuring 20 inches long.
Before I had children I knew nothing about raising kids, and especially nothing about caring for a baby. I was the oldest of 2, and my brother was 3 years younger than me and frankly, I don’t remember one minute of his infancy. Yes, I had cousins, but I lived out of state when they were babies. One very close cousin of mine was born when I was 15, but she was a year old when she came into our lives through adoption. She was well past the wobbly head stage.
Prior to having my own baby, I assumed that the moment you popped the little baby-doll out, the heavens would part and a bright light would shine down on you while holding your infant in your arms and “waaalaaa” it would be love at first sight. Time would stop and there would be angels singing the hallelujah chorus, your breath would be taken away with the overwhelming since of pride and affection you had for this little being.
Well. That moment never happened for me.
(maybe for others it did, but for me… not so much)
After I threw up 3 times while pushing a baby human out of my body, the nurse threw the mucousy, bloody, limp baby on my chest and immediately my first thought was…
“Oh, this is not the moment I had in mind. Please, get this mess of a human off my naked chest and give IT a bath!”
Then as quickly as they threw him up there, they swept him away.
The nurse took him, sewed me up with a needle that resembled Captain Hook’s hand, then handed my baby back to me. I took him from the hurried nurse and wanted to crumble. I wanted to cry, not because of the heart full of love that I had, but because I was exhausted. I labored all night long, with a waiting room full of 20+ people, I threw my guts up and probably pooped in front of 10 people I didn’t know, and I desperately needed a hot shower and a long nap. Basically, I was emotionally and physically exhausted.
(Needless to say my first born’s birth story is not something I love to relive)
I looked down at my new little son, and thought to myself, “Who are you?! What have I done?! Where are is the chorus of angels I expected?!”. Over the next 48 hours the nurses tried to teach me the (insert air quotes here) “Womanly Art of Breastfeeding”. The poor ladies tried to give me tips on how to care for and bathe my baby, but I am sure I just stared back at them with glazed eyes…. eyes resembling a dear caught in headlights, about to get struck down by a semi truck.
(I would like to refer to said semi truck as “motherhood”)
Then we went home.
After our short stent in ‘babymoon’ land, we braved the first night in our humble abode with my husband, my mom, and me passing around the SCREAMING infant. We all looked at each other clueless. Surely, one of us should know what to do with this crying baby, but… we didn’t. We just braved the night hours until the morning sun rose and Daxx was so exhausted that the crying eventually stopped.
That first year, many tears were shed. On Daxx’s behalf and mine as well.
Being a Mom was tough business and no one informed me of this! There were breastfeeding classes and birthing classes, prenatal messages and registering…. BUT, where was the SANITY class, and when and where was I supposed to register for the DIY Motherhood Manuel? Where was the TRUE friend who pulled you aside and said, “You are about to encounter the roughest year of your life. You are about to view poop, pee, boogers and vomit as daily accessories. You might not brush your hair for two days, just try to at least make time to brush your teeth. Pajamas are your new uniform, and don’t be embarrassed if you try to make imaginary friends with the girls from the View”.
In hindsight, I would have laughed at that “true friend” and then talked about her behind her back. Because. I was SO prepared.
But God is Good. (Can I get an, Amen!) He knew this little man before he gave him to me. And God knew this little man was going to ROCK MY WORLD. The good Lord above was going to refine this woman with motherhood. He was going to take this self absorbed, prideful, intelligent, 20-something, plop a baby in her arms and show her that HE ALONE IS GOD.
My world did change the day my son was born. It has been rough, but beautiful. It has be hard, but so exciting. It has been difficult, but God alone has provided wisdom, energy and competence.
In Jeremiah 1:5, God speaks to Jeremiah and says,
“Before I formed you I KNEW you, before you were born I set you apart”
I recently have been meditating on this verse and realized that our existence doesn’t start at conception, but way before. God KNOWS us before he forms us. He KNOWs our children, he purposefully gave us these special kiddos with an intention. An intention we may never know, but the inconceivable God of the universe knows me, and he knew I needed this little boy in my life. A boy so dear to God that He alone knows his inner most thoughts, the number of hairs on his head, the future of his life and purpose for his being. My love for this dear boy is nothing compared to God’s love for him… which that is A. LOT. of love!! Sometimes I am convinced my heart might burst it is so full of love.
Daxx had a terrific birthday… one we are still celebrating. And as I sit back and watch him play and ponder on the years that have past, I couldn’t be more thankful for the roll he has played in my life.
He is the boy, who changed my life forever.