Kiss Your Miracle

This past Saturday Adam’s cousin and her husband renewed their marriage vows. The ceremony was scheduled for 11am on a beach about two hours away. I was happy for them, but to be honest, not really looking forward to the day myself. I love hopping in the car and heading out of town, but now that we have a baby an all day excursion is complicated.

After an extensive packing session on Saturday morning, we left in the Forrester, loaded down with everything we might need for the day. I then spent the next hour and forty-minutes doing anything I could think of to keep Skylar calm in her car seat. I knew I was in trouble when I sacrificed my purse for her to play with just ten minutes into the trip. Bored with everything, she fussed on and off no matter what I did. Fifteen minutes before we arrived, she fell asleep. “Keep going,” I whispered to Adam, who obediently drove past the ceremony site to give Sky a few extra minutes of naptime. Once we arrived things actually went well. Sky’s catnap gave her the energy she needed to be cute and happy for the afternoon. She loved the beach and at the reception she basically crawled nonstop, fascinated with everything, until it was time for us to leave.

At the end of the day we got in the car to make the two-hour drive back to Ocala, swinging through a Starbucks as we left town. Ten minutes into the trip Sky was asleep. Adam’s eyes were on the road and Feist sang to us through the stereo. The late afternoon sun sparkled on the trees and shadows traced their way across Skylar’s smooth white skin. I sipped my coffee, studying her face. It’s crazy to me, but even after infertility, I can get so wrapped up in the work part of being a mom that I almost forget to enjoy the experience. Moments of bliss seem to happen right after chaotic ones, when I least expect them. If I’m not careful I might miss them completely. So as we drove along that day I closed my eyes for a second and acknowledged to myself that yes, this is one of those of moments I wouldn’t change at all.

As Christians we’re often told that life is about joy, not happiness. Joy is possible even in the darkest times when you rely on God for strength. And that’s true. But there’s something to be said for happiness, when you’re so taken with the moment – how you feel, the way things look and smell, the people near you – that you forget your stress for a while. These moments can be rare. I hope I’m never beyond the ability to pay attention to them when they come.

Lately going to church has been an issue for us. It’s not that we don’t like going. But at nine months old, Skylar takes just one nap a day – usually around 10:30, which is exactly when church begins. I’ve tried putting her down early before we leave, but she isn’t tired then. And Sky is an active child, the exact opposite of those mythical, laid-back babies you hear about who fall asleep effortlessly wherever they are. We don’t want to miss out on church completely, so we go and I drop her off in the nursery, telling the staff to please, please come and get me if she won’t stop crying.

Last week when I picked Sky up the staff sweetly told me she’d been “a little fussy, but not that bad.” Megan, an angel who works in the nursery almost every week, said she’d taken Sky on a walk and that had calmed her down. As I scooped up my baby and her diaper bag, apologizing as usual, I noticed Christian, a baby two weeks older than Sky, sleeping soundly in a crib by the wall. The lights were on and kids were playing loudly right next to him, but still baby Christian slept. Don’t compare, said a voice in my head as Skylar squirmed in my arms.

I have to admit, I’ve been tempted to compare myself to others my whole life. It never leads anywhere good – pride if I think I’m better off, or jealousy if I feel worse. It occurred to me on Sunday though, that comparing my child is another thing completely. I might just be thinking of myself (if only Sky were calmer, things would be easier for me), but as a mother I should really be thinking of her. If she subtly picks up on the way I wish she were more like someone else, she’ll end up either resenting me or feeling insecure or both. And the last thing I mean to do is make my daughter feel like her God-given personality is inadequate.

I’m only at the beginning of my life as a parent, but I’m starting to learn how things that seem small – a little comparing, a little jealousy – might have a lasting effect on my daughter and our relationship. I am so glad that the Bible promises me wisdom if I ask for it, and that God gives it “generously to all without finding fault” (James 1:5).