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advent in the trenches.

when i first had atticus, i was shocked at how dirty i felt all the time.  i was always covered in spit-up or leaking breastmilk or snot or sweat or pee or poop or blood or something.  i wasn't able to shower as often as i had been used to, and even in the shower, i just felt gross.  i would say that was one of the least anticipated and hardest things to adjust to regarding the transition to motherhood.

since then, it's been easier to deal with, and i've reconciled myself to the fact that i'm usually smelling kind of weird, and almost everything i own is smeared with someone's bodily-somethings.  but the bigger issue is still really hard for me to accept: that everything i own - even my own body - is no longer mine.  it's all subject to my kids' whims and needs and wants and demands.

i have been pregnant or nursing (or both simultaneously) nearly every day for almost six years.  my body is wholly at the mercy of some other person.  there's always morning sickness, or cravings, or stretch marks, or too much weight or too little weight, or (if i'm being perhaps too honest) now-wonkadonk boobs, or those bald patches i get for the first six months after having a baby.  i don't have physical rest, i don't have time for hygiene, my wardrobe is mostly comprised of pajamas and larger-than-preferred underwear.  even my feet have gotten bigger!  everything about me screams, 'i am a mom and i'll never be the same!'  and as much as i love my kids, and as much as i wish it weren't true, i sometimes resent the fact that i'm no longer the person i used to be, and would frequently prefer to be, because i'm a mother.

and i'm currently learning the hard lesson of sacrificing my own wants and needs and stupid i-want-to-look-like-that-blogger wishes in order to pay the price to generate life. that dying to myself so that christ can live in me might look like a broken, imperfect body.  that raccoon rings and soft, unchiseled arms and an extra 25 pounds and a receding hairline might be the only personal, physical marks of my biggest accomplishment.  and can i be okay with that?  i hope someday i can, but right now, it's a struggle.

and so all i can really do right now is praise the god who broke his own body to give me life, who was marred beyond all recognition because it was the only way i could be brought forth.  this is the king who washed nasty feet, and was constantly interrupted and overtaken and demanded of, and was so exhausted he was sleeping through a hurricane, just so he could bring me the good news of great joy.  he had his beard ripped out, his clothes ripped off, his skin ripped up, to bring me wholeness.  and he did it joyfully.  willingly.  triumphantly.  vibrantly.  entirely. 

i want to remember this.  i want to be like this.  i want my kids to know that jesus means enough to me, and they mean enough to me, that i will not selfishly hoard this idolized body of mine. 


1 john 3:16
we know what real love is because jesus gave up his life for us.  so we also ought to give up our lives for our brothers and sisters.

7 comments :

todd said...

it would be hard to imagine admiring anything more than what you just articulated. thank you!

Jessica said...

Thank you.

Alana said...

Beautiful, Paige. Thank you.

TORI said...

Masterfully written, friend. And so true. It's all worth it. All of it.

Heather said...

paige, this is - and you are - beautiful.

todd said...

i could not agree more Heather

Maren Fleer said...

Paige- you are beautiful! Every time we get together to chat and hang out, I'm reminded what a beautiful person you are inside and out. It's so wonderful to do life alongside a friend who so deeply loves the Lord and tries to bring Him glory every day! I think you are great inside and out! xoxo