This Girl is My Hero.

 

This girl is my hero. 

I had the privilege of a front row seat this past summer as she worked hard, getting up extra early, on her feet all morning teaching children with special needs. Never mind that she was eight-plus months pregnant, it was 100 degrees outside, and her husband was away on an internship in San Francisco for the summer.  

I watched her hit the gym on a regular basis, research every possible baby contraption, and purchase an online breast-feeding course. I watched her continue to grow and improve daily in preparation for the all-important role she’d be assuming.

But when her husband announced that he was coming home that weekend (a week early),  she burst into tears. That was when I realized just how strenuous it had been for her all summer without him here.

This girl also has an iron will. Not only did her husband return a week earlier than scheduled. On August 27th she decided she was well and truly DONE with being pregnant. And her water broke that afternoon. Right on her due date! The next thing we knew she was checked into the hospital's labor and delivery and issued a blue gown. It was go time!

We dropped by to see how she was doing, and the nurse commented on her great sense of humor as they cranked up the pitocin. We even played a round or two of cards. Then suddenly she asked for her epidural RIGHT NOW (again, with that iron will) and we knew that was our cue to leave.

She labored all through the night, with Austin faithfully by her side, attending to any need he possibly could. Sixteen hours later (after a dutiful and detailed thread of updates all night and morning from Austin) we got word that the our grandson had arrived!

Watching her, I can only say that what she did was positively heroic. It is such an extraordinary feat to bring a brand new human into the world. Even though I did it four times myself, twenty-something years ago, I am still in awe.

Within a couple of hours we were there at the hospital visiting our very first grandchild.  Oh, my heart!

In the days that followed, I have had the enormous privilege of watching our daughter step into the role of Mother. It is so humbling and beautiful to observe her natural nurturing instincts surface, and see her step up to the plate...and knock it right out of the ballpark.  

Through a set of heroic acts she has made her husband a father, made me a grandmother, made my husband a grandfather,  made my father a great-grandfather....and on and on it goes....

 

(And if you remember how much your love for your husband grew when he became a father, and you saw him loving and interacting with your children...just you WAIT until he becomes a grandpa! Get ready to swoon!)

Motherhood Math: It's Complicated

(apologies in advanced to any mathematicians in my readership.)

When you get married you start multiplying everything by two...a nice even number. Easy third grade math.  

But then you inexplicably also divide the amount of time you spend together by two. You assumed your time together would be doubled, but life, school and work get in the way, and instead it’s halved. 

Later you realize that when you're unified, 1 x 1 = 1. Two people multiplied is greater than two people just added together.  The first of many paradoxes: One is greater than 2. 

Things get a little more complex when you add a baby. You think you could just start multiplying everything by three. But the baby equals 2.75 adult humans (diapers for one month = 2 adult t-shirts that will each last five years.) Cost of breastfeeding for first year: 0. Cost of motorized breast pump: Astronomical.  Baby also demands 6 times more attention than your husband. Divide time together by another third.

Double and triple recipes as more children are added to family. Double and triple laughter and love at same rate of recipes and grocery bills. 

Write down a number for your ideal hours of sleep per night. Multiply that number by 2/3. Try to escape sleep debt using debt-reduction formula from financial planning class. Fail.

Story problem: 

If a mother has one child to shuttle to elementary school, one to drop off at preschool, and one crawling on floor at rate of 1mph, how fast does the mother need to run to keep up with them all?

Average number of times per day you quietly move dirty dishes from sink to dishwasher: 5 

Hire a babysitter for weekly date night with spouse. Multiply mother’s hourly rate by 10. Oh, wait…that’s still zero. Scratch that. No comparison to mother’s investment. Budget x dollars a week, then double it. Multiply previous total by 5 for longer outings. Joy at finally having a 12-year-old = short-lived.

Add a teenage boy with a speeding ticket and a fender bender to your family auto insurance and multiply previous insurance premiums by four. 

Teenage boy also stays out past curfew. Reduce sleep time by another 1/3. Sleep now dangerously close to zero. Sleep debt approaches bankruptcy.

Sending first child to college = scholarship + tuition + books + housing - grandparents’ 529 plan + 2500/semester - tax credit. Repeat annually with variables. Subtract cost of feeding teenage boy at home. Multiply by four. Seeing that child in a cap and gown: worth every penny. Value of that education: priceless. 

Marry off a daughter and the price of the wedding is triple the amount of the tax credit you lose that year. Total financial loss, including incidentals: cannot add that high. Value of a stellar son-in-law: inestimable, far outweighing any financial losses.  Cost of temple sealing: 0. Value of eternal union: infinite. There is no earthly equation to equal that kind of blessing.

Youngest son leaves to serve a mission. Joy = Given. Cost zeroed out by car insurance reduced (total annual estimate for three drivers, now divided by four) plus cell phone line removed, plus packaged food and gallons of milk no longer consumed. Dirty dishes in sink now equals zero. Shoes by back door still equals 2--because I can't bear to move them. Complex emotions surface. For every missionary letter: Multiply both sides by joy raised to the power of sacrifice and faith.

Oldest son moves to New York. Multiply faith and prayers by 10. Double that number for daily and weekly miracles pouring in. Scratch head. Look at lifetime of tithing receipts. Does not come close to equalling the value of the blessings and miracles. Wipe away tears.

Delight when we hear from each of our children: Enormous. Hours we want to spend with them: infinite. 

Number of people in household now: 2. Number of empty bedrooms: 3. 
Divide all recipes by 4. (Except the ones you divide into 2/3 when married kids come over for dinner). 

Multiply time together with spouse by 2.5. Raise total to the exponent of fun, now multiplied by 30 years of depth and life experience. This is what you call rich.

London: On Marriage and Motherhood

Saturday afternoon we saw a beautiful film made in India called "The Lonely Wife." It was cinematically gorgeous, and held some amazing insights on marriage and other relationships. There is a scene in the garden that is breathtakingly beautiful, and the ending will stop your heart.

That evening, after a quick dinner at the Shake Shack in Coventry Garden (shout-out to the Blueberry-Lemon milkshake—oh, my!) we saw the musical "Matilda" based on Roald Dahl's book.) Several of our students last time said this was their favorite show they saw here, but we didn't have a chance to see it then, so I was thrilled it's still playing. The tickets were pricey, but worth it.

One of the strongest themes was that every child is a miracle. I believe this with all my heart. The birth of each of our children felt increasingly miraculous, never commonplace. A few months ago on Twitter I saw an ad campaign advocating childlessness as a choice. That alone doesn't bother me so much. But it was the blatant disdain for children and motherhood that gave me pause and raised the hairs on the back of my neck. I helped launch a social media counter-campaign "Worth Every Ounce of Effort." (Click on all the links. Each one will take you to a separate image.)

Matilda's parents are hilariously horrible, discouraging reading and insisting the children watch more "telly." At one point the mother rages, "These dinners don't microwave themselves!" Apart from the sheer entertainment factor, it was refreshing to see the way Matilda celebrated children and childhood, advocated kindness and forgiveness, and acknowledged the miraculous origins of every human life. It valued love above all else. And made me feel great about being a mother.

And can I just add what an extraordinary blessing it is to be in Europe for two months with my wonderful husband and each of our amazing kids (Jeremiah for the whole two months, and the rest for about 2 weeks each). It is such a rare gift to be together as a family 24/7, apart from our typical run-til-you-drop lifestyle. There really is no substitute for quality time.