to en.joy.

This morning, the chatty, middle-aged teller at the bank asked how old my bundled darling was. I breathed in deep and told her he was nearing one year. She didn’t pause for a single moment, just continued jabbering about baby toys, and her granddaughter, and “just the other night….”.

I think I may have tuned her out. I was too busy wallowing. Clearly, she didn’t see the pained expression on my face, didn’t hear the hesitance in my voice. Clearly, she didn’t realize (remember) what it means to a mother to have her firstborn nearing his first birthday.

Clearly, I do.

This week, I’ve been moping. I tend to get that way this time of year because the weather seems to throw my body off. My knuckles swell and my heating pad is glued to me nearly the entire day. Thankfully, by the good grace of God, the afternoons are warm, there are plenty of plump, juicy apples, even some right outside my back door. And of course, there are colorful trees that seem to beautify everything around, seem to enhance, in a way, the cooler weather, darkened evenings, and the fact that we’re all preparing to tuck ourselves indoors for the entire coming season. Yes, the novelty, the idea of autumn gets me through. Even if it is just barely.

Yet still, my fragile little soul tends to depress itself this time of year. And I’ve been feeling it. So, last night, I sat at the dinner table and poured out my heart to a quiet husband. I told him how lately, I’ve been remembering a lot, and how I had been recalling the fact that this time last year, we had butterflies just thinking of how our lives were on the swift brink of change. I told him how I remembered anticipating that change, how I remembered so distinctly, the last few weeks of last year’s October - where I was, what I was doing. How I nested in the mornings, took naps in the afternoon. How I shopped, cleaned, read. How I fervently tried to prepare myself, body and mind, to bring our child from inside of my body, out into the wide open world.

I talked of those ‘full circle’ feelings. And had inner-thoughts that moved me to reflect on the concept of time, and how quickly it slips past us. Do I really feel as though I have an entire year’s worth of blissful memories with my baby? Can I recount each one? I am one who recollects my memories often. I find comfort and peace from them, and feel so grateful to have a mind that allows me to relive, in a way, things that have happened in the past. Even still, I so fear forgetting the small moments, thousands in number, that led me to find such happiness this last year, as I learned to be a mother.

And then there is Morgan. He grows more, it seems, each moment. The days pass right on by. And I’ve been thinking that perhaps, while I am worrying about missing things, I miss them. When I told my mom how conflicted it feels to have so much joy in the present, yet so much longing for stages that have passed, she understood. Then she told me that if time were still, and Morgan never changed, he would never grow. Happiness, for all, in all forms, comes from change, and from growth.

And while I’ve been thinking about that, I’ve been hoping in my heart that one day, when our spirits and bodies are made whole, our minds will be too. And hopefully, if my choices prove worthy, one day, my heart will be free of such longing. And all the moments I may forget as time goes by, will be there in my memory once more, pure and undimmed, for me to hold dear and treasure forever.

For motherhood is sacred. Eternal, even. And so are the emotions that accompany it. And I know that motherhood is a gift from God, to have the opportunity to nourish another life, another little spirit. A gift most rewarding, a gift with challenges, a gift full of opportunity for learning, and for growth.

And of all the many new emotions that I have come to feel this past year, gratitude is most certainly present - and with a newfound depth. Gratitude for new life, for a growing, changing child, and for a Savior who has experienced each heartache, each moment of longing, in my heart and in yours.
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Tonight, Morgan will go to bed one day older, and I will go to bed with a new goal in mind. To enjoy it.