Kiss Your Miracle

Sky, like many babies, is exasperating a great deal of the time. At eleven months old, she has a strong will and a mind of her own. She doesn’t like to be fed; she wants to do it herself. And she usually lets me know she’s done eating by wiping her high chair tray clean with one dramatic sweep of her arm. During bath time, it doesn’t matter how many times I sit her down in the tub, she continually gets back on her feet. She’s also stuck in the taking-apart stage. Our books spend more time on the floor than the shelves. Will she ever get to the putting-back stage?

But then Sky will do something like discover an old hat under our bed. And when I put it on her and take her over to the mirror, she’s so taken with her reflection that she stares transfixed and then gives herself a round of applause. So that inspires us to try other head-wear. Like the bloomers from her new sundress. And then I have to get the camera. Soon a half hour floats by, but I’m unconcerned with all the messes I haven’t yet cleaned up.

I’m writing this on Father’s Day. One year ago I was hugely pregnant. But two years ago I wasn’t sure if motherhood was in my future at all. If my former self could see me now she’d probably say, “Are you kidding? You finally have a kid and you spend half your time irritated because she’s messy when she eats and throws books on the floor?” And for a minute my current self would want to argue and say, “You have no idea how hard it is to be a mom, how exhausting it can be, how sometimes even getting this child to do the simplest things, like eat or sleep, feels almost impossible.” But even as I formulate those words in my brain, I catch myself and stop, wrapped up in the memory of my life before Skylar. “Who cares how clean the house is?” my former self would continue. “Why do you spend so much time sweeping the floor anyway? Spend more time sitting in front of the mirror with your little girl – your little girl – trying on stupid hats and laughing with her.”

Obviously, I never would have chosen infertility for myself. But I’m grateful now that it’ll always be a part of me, fixing my perspective, speaking up when I forget that I’m living an answered prayer.

I gave up my teaching position yesterday. My principal was wonderful about it, gracious and understanding, even though he now has to find a replacement for me. But I walked out of the school feeling funny. I can no longer say I teach there. I am officially jobless.

On the drive to school, practicality surged to the front of my brain and my head filled with questions. Is it wise to let go of a sure thing, a career with about as much job security as a person could hope for these days? What will we do if Adam, who works in the troubled home building industry, loses his job? What about all of my mom friends who say work is fulfilling and satisfying, that they like contributing to their families financially? But I managed to push my doubts aside and have the conversation I’d planned, trying not to think about it all too much.

It wasn’t until I got home and saw little Sky, clapping in delight to see me (clapping is her newest skill), that I suddenly felt good about our decision. I let out the breath I’d been holding and scooped her up in my arms. I do want to contribute financially, but not if it means teaching full-time. To be completely honest, I never found teaching all that fulfilling or satisfying in the first place. There were things about it that I liked, but it doesn’t compare to being with Sky. Yes, there are days when I count the minutes till Adam gets home. But overall, I’m living the life I always wanted. I feel strange when I’m away from my little girl. I like the way we hang out in our pajamas half the day, the way things are flexible and low key. I like not missing out on the small, every day things in her life. When I go into her room to get her up from a nap, I always open the door slowly so I can be sure to see her face when she spots me. Then I walk over to the edge of her crib, look down into her sleepy-smiley face and say, “Are you really my baby girl?”

I don’t believe the working mom issue is a moral, right or wrong decision. I know that if I chose to go back to school, God would be with me. He would give me the energy to teach and an attachment to my students. He would give me the grace to handle life as a working mom, as he has to so many of my friends, and he would give me the ability to make the best of it. But it’s not what I want to do. If I went ahead with it anyway, my motive would mainly be fear – fear that we’d struggle too much financially or that I might regret the decision later. It’s a risk to let the job go when I don’t have anything else lined up yet. But instead of focusing on the what-ifs, I want to let the situation motivate me to be persistent in searching for a better job, something I can do part-time, something that earns a little money without sacrificing what’s valuable to me: days at home with my miracle baby.

This morning I let Sky take everything out of the cabinets in the bathroom. By the time she was done the floor was covered in travel sized bottles of shampoo, conditioner, and lotion,  extra rolls of toilet paper, bobby pins, an old jewelry case, and a curling iron. Then Sky proudly crawled into the cabinet herself and turned to me as if to say, “Look Mama!” And I cheered for her and grabbed my camera, because in the meantime I’d managed to put on some makeup and do my hair for the day. Sometimes the mess is worth it.`

Should I go back to work? It’s a loaded question. Most people I’ve encountered seem to have a strong opinion on the topic of working mothers. For me, the issue was simpler before I actually became a mom, when the discussion was all just in theory. Back when motherhood was only a daydream, I always pictured myself at home. But somehow the reality I live in today is more complicated than that. I’ve been home since Skylar’s birth last July, officially on a one-year leave from my high school teaching position. But now, with the 08-09 school year drawing to a close, I have a decision to make: do I go back to teaching or let the principal give my spot to someone else?

I’d like to work part-time. Occasionally my school district allows two teachers to share a full-time position. I’d get to teach, but have half the students and half the hours. I’ve also looked into tutoring, online teaching, and online grading. It seems like there are plenty of things I could do to bring in a little extra money without sacrificing the majority of my day at home with Sky. But my problem is that none of those things have come together yet. And my principal said no to part-time teaching, but the full-time position is still waiting for me, complete with health benefits.

My mom suggested that Adam and I pray about the decision every day, so we have. But sometimes it seems like the more I think about it, and the more I try to figure out what’s best, the more uncertain I feel. I page through my Bible asking for God to speak, wanting to suddenly find a big “NO” or “YES” in black ink before me. I was texting with my brother Nelson last week and told him I’ve been agonizing over what to do. “I know,” he wrote back. “It’s hard to make those decisions. ‘Left or right, Lord?’ Then He says, ‘I love you.'” Nelson’s right. And it’s wonderful the way God prioritizes his love for us over any circumstance we face. But I have to admit, my reaction is often an impatient, “Yes God, I know you love me, but what do I do?”

This past weekend I was in Chicago visiting my family and one afternoon I went out to lunch with Nelson and my brother Klaus. We talked about our work and money issues, and then somehow got onto the topic of insomnia, something Adam’s dealt with on and off for years. I was telling them that whenever Adam says he’s really hoping for a good night’s sleep, it’s usually a sign that he’ll be up for hours. It’s like he’s concentrating on it too much. Then Nelson said, “Kind of like when you ask God for a specific answer. If you put all your focus on the yes or no, sometimes it evades you.”

I’m still thinking about that conversation. Of course, God wants us to come to him for guidance. But have I been seeking God? Or just the answer to my dilemma? I think the two are supposed to be inseparable; we should seek God and wisdom simultaneously. But somehow in the decision-making process I seem to have lost focus. I have prayed about the job. But I’ve spent much more time thinking about it. Worrying over it. I’ve looked through my Bible, but with tunnel vision. I can’t honestly say I’ve been quiet before God, open to whatever he might have to tell me, whether it relates to my job dilemma or not. Oswald Chambers says, “The questions that matter in life are remarkably few, and they are all answered by these words – ‘Come to Me.'” I’m a planner and I like to have things decided. But maybe it’s time for me to take a break from over-analyzing my circumstances and just sit in the presence of the Lord.

This Friday I’m flying from where I live in Florida to see my family in Chicago and watch my youngest sister graduate from high school. Sky is coming with me, but Adam has to stay home for work, so the travel part of our trip is not something I’m looking forward to.

Traveling used to be relaxing to me. I loved everything about it – the packing and anticipation, that feeling I’d always get in the car when I left town, the way I couldn’t predict exactly how the trip would go. It was all fun to me. But now “unpredictable” means not knowing what my baby will do in unfamiliar situations. There is a slight chance that Sky will go absolutely berserk and scream her brains out during the flight. I’m already dreading that moment when I get on the plane. I picture myself walking down the skinny center aisle with all eyes on me as I struggle to hold my child and all of our gear without wacking anyone in the head, each passenger praying that I don’t sit down in the empty seat next to them.

And once we get there, things still might be tough. Sky will probably have a hard time sleeping in a new bed and she usually clings to me when she feels insecure. We went to Chicago at Thanksgiving and instead of waking up twice a night as usual, she was suddenly up every hour. This time I’m just planning ahead to be tired.

But even with the work involved, I’m excited to go. Graduation Day will be important for my sister. I want her to remember I was there for her, even if I do spend the actual ceremony wandering around outside with Sky. My family hasn’t seen her since she was four months old. She was just a yummy, squishy baby back then and now she’s practically walking. I can’t wait to see my little girl in my mom’s arms again. And I can’t wait to sit in the kitchen and drink coffee with everyone. I guess it’s the ordinary things I miss the most. I know a small part of me will be relieved when the trip is over and I’m back at home where things with Sky are easier. But for now, the anticipation builds. Sky may be ten months old, but she’s not too young to learn that seeing family is worth the effort.