I'm Not Enough For Him

We are back home, and life is returning to a new normal.  A normal with three children, three and under.  Mass quantities of meals, snacks, diapers, and burp rags.  And yet I assure you that the last month has changed things in my heart. 

While I would never again wish to go through such an experience, so much growth can occur in your life when you are staring down a harsh reality.

So many of the things I hung my hat on and sinfully found my identity in went flying out the window faster than I could possibly imagine. 

As I watched my son receive his first two doses of antibiotics that were so strong they could potentially destroy his veins, I was reminded of my proud heart.  I once took pride in the fact that I had never had a child on internal antibiotics.  I just didn't care anymore though.  My beautiful son lay sleeping in my arms, passed out for the intensity of the pain he had just gone through.  Who cares if I'd been able to keep the girls off antibiotics, all I wanted my son to be well. 

Organic lotions were traded for mass quantities of petroleum jelly.  Cloth diapers were swapped out with disposables.  Amber necklaces and calming essential oils were replaced with narcotics. 

It was definitely a time of stretching for me and a giving up of the control I thought I had. 

I was mulling this all over tonight as I fed Abraham a bottle.  2 1/2 months into life and he had never before received a bottle out of necessity.  I had to supplement for the first time in his life.  I thought this day would be hard for me, but the reality of it just didn't seem like a big deal after all we'd been through. 

My identity as a mom is not wrapped up in him not needing bottles, or antibiotics, or pain medication.  His life is so, so much more than that. 

As I watched him greedily and hungrily suck that milk down there was a sense of relief.  Of not having to meet a standard of being all he needs.  I will never be all he needs, and his need for a bottle is a beautiful reminder of that. 

He needed more than me when he was first conceived; when his birthmom decided that he was not a choice, but a child who deserved LIFE. 

He needed more than me when I walked into that emergency room and handed him over to be poked and prodded in the search for answers.

He needed more than me tonight when he was still hungry after nursing.

He will need more than me, more than anything this world can give him in fact, as he grows into a man.  I pray that he comes to recognize that and has as much peace with it as I do now. 

I look back at the last month and it's so easy to say, "Why, Lord??  Why my precious son?"  And I don't know why, but I do know this.  The picture of my son lying helpless in a hospital bed and me being powerless to do anything about it is the closest picture I can come to of how I need to feel about the condition of my own heart.  My sin has reeked more havoc on my heart and mind than staph did to Abraham's skin and I am powerless to do anything about it.  My attempts to fix myself and make myself right before God were akin to my attempts to make him better by rubbing yeast cream on a staph infection.  But, God chose to spare Abraham and he chose to spare me.  So in that, I can rejoice.