I wrote this during Lent, but I wanted to share as a reminder that God is constantly making things new.
I should be sleeping. Instead, it’s somewhere near midnight, and I’m sitting up in bed. The lamp is on and the covers are pulled up over my legs, while my upper body is hunched over the breast pump in my lap. Pumping bras have never worked properly for me, so I find myself in the familiar position of a lactating mother. A balancing act of sorts, with the bottles resting on the edges of my knees, slightly slipping due to the blanket. I always do this to myself before a large gathering- power (or should we call it “panic”) pump to increase supply, just a bit to make it easier on both of us. I know it’s silly, but it makes me feel more at ease. Vacation is coming up, and so are the many, many feeds at the crowded beach.
I get comfortable after a few minutes. The checklist of things I can do during this little bit of “free time” is not extensive, but it contains a few fruitful things that I needed to accomplish. Rosary, check. A quick podcast, check. I finish a few pages of my book and start scrolling an Instagram feed filled with various motherhood blogs. I land on a mama calculating how long they’ve breastfed. It got me curious, I’ve never done the math before… 15-16 months each, times three, plus an 8.5 month old… 54 months. I was underwhelmed, as it felt like it should have been three figures. But, wait a second… 54 months total divided by 12 months in a year landed me at about 4.33 years overall.
YEARS. OVERALL.
The calculation of years spent nourishing and nurturing my sweet babies, and counting.
What. A. Gift.
Has it really been that long? The length might suggest that my “free time” during a nursing session has been anything but that, however, motherhood begs the constant questions:
How shall we live? How shall we serve?
God created us as mothers for so many things, and as I’m learning (from the podcast I had just listened to), for the most basic acts of love: service and worship. It’s easier said than done. I realize this, as the milk fills the bottles in my lap. Motherhood is hard work. And that’s okay. In identifying our weaknesses, God tells us that He will use His strength.
“My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.
– 2 Corinthians 12:9-10
This is what I prayed for. I remember being pregnant with Acilia and having my heart set on trying to breastfeed. After she was born, the hospital had me in for a routine appointment with the lactation consultant. I had to feed and then weigh her to make sure she was getting enough milk. She was only a few days old and I remember trying to hold back nervous tears as I underwent my test. It felt like everyone’s eyes were burning holes into me. She drank plenty, and the tears fell silently as I buckled her back into her carseat. The thankfulness I felt was powered by adrenaline. My mind raced back and forth from her performing, my body for working, and God for coming through in the clutch. As we have added more children and more nursing sessions, I have learned those things are not ordered quite as I thought they were. Time is anything but my own. What the Lord presents me to do with it is a gift, and I made a promise to try my hardest to treat it as such.
“Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.”
-1 Thessalonians 5:16-18
The podcast I had just listened to was an episode from Bible in a Year by Fr. Mike Schmitz. I’m anywhere but up to date on it. I’ve picked it up and put it down, listening when I had time. I’m now back tracking because the very small, in need of a magnifying glass, “type A” part of me wants to write notes in the actual Bible that I bought specifically for the actual podcast. As I’ve tried to catch back up, I’ve been interrupted during same episode for about 3 weeks now. I thought about waving the white flag and moving on, but then wondered if God wants me to hear something that I haven’t been paying attention to. So there I sat, in the book of Exodus, during Lent. In the desert if you will, with the Israelites.
“Okay Lord,” I say to myself. “What have you got for me?”
After I press play, the priest invites on a guest speaker. Right on cue, he explains that he wants listeners to know that the desert is a look in the mirror- that there is bondage God wants to free us from that has beauty on the other side.
Oooof. That look in the mirror, I’ve been looking at for several weeks now. This Lent has had some growing pains, to say the least. I have been challenged with sacrifices, discipline, and the fear of God. That may sound dramatic. But I can assure you that, although I fail often, I have a very different outlook on what it means to love than I did a few months ago. So, back to my original thought- maybe I am right where I’m supposed to be. The podcast continues and I think, “Hey up there. I hear You. What else have You got for me?”
In the podcast, paired with Exodus is the book of Leviticus. It’s not exactly an exciting read, but it sparks my attention as Father states some of it’s importance, in that all of the little details matter- the old foreshadows the new. How fitting, for what I have undergone this Lent. We must understand how God has asked us to worship. There it is again. I can’t say that the thought comes out so composed in my mind. It’s usually a “WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME!?!” type of thing. Those growing pains, I’m telling ya. Beauty from bondage.
The sound of the pump pulsing brings me back to reality. The baby is snoring next to me, cuddled up to daddy. I glance out down the hall. It was a good bedtime. They should sleep soundly. The pump finishes, and I thank God that my worries have no place here.
54 months and counting.
This. This is what I was created for. Love, in the forms of service and worship.
I turn off the lights and lay my head down. Without missing a beat, someone across the hall starts screaming uncontrollably. Then I hear a second pair of feet that should be in bed. Hastily and begrudgingly, I get up. Here we go, back out to the desert. I look up and ask, “This Lord? This!?”
One fell out of bed, and one is scared of the dark. Whose arms better to carry and hold them, at the deepest point of the night? The sniffles stifle after a few moments in the rocking chair, with little faces buried in my shoulders.
This, Lord?
This. Especially this.
Bible in a Year breastfeeding exodus motherhood service and worship
