When my daughter was little (about 9 months) we called her my little koala baby. Imagine Momma Koala going about her day climbing eucalyptus trees and munching on leaves all while Baby Koala is along for the ride. Translate that into human activities, and you have a pretty clear picture of about six months of our lives.
Some people wear baby wraps. I didn’t have to. She honestly just hung there – no wrap necessary. (Before I get all sorts of emails saying I’m a terrible parent, please understand that I never made my child hang onto me without having a safe proper hold on her at all times.) I just need you to understand that she wasn’t going anywhere. The kid had a grip.
While kind of sweet now, it was one of those phases that made me want to pull my hair out. It made me pray for the sweet Lord above to just keep me sane. Dishes with one arm. Snacks for my son with one arm. Sorting, starting, carrying and folding laundry with one arm. I think we are all on the same page here…
My sweet koala baby.
You know what would be really weird?
It would be bizarre if you came over to my house today, and she was still hanging on my back. If you dropped by, and I was just going about my day like it was no big deal…
“Oh, hey! Come on in… We’re almost done.” And then you sat down and watched while nearly thirty pounds of toddler girl hung from my back sippin’ on a juice box while I vacuumed the rugs.
Praise the Lord that is not my reality.
Because the truth is… she eventually climbed down and became the beautiful 4 year old she is today.
That phase of our lives is over, and we are on to new great adventures (and challenges) together. It was one of those phases that I can look back on and see humor in now.
But then?
If you had told me back then that I would miss her hanging on my neck all the time, I would have smiled sweetly at you while silently wanting to kick you out of my house. It didn’t matter how I was going to feel tomorrow. Knowing that I was going to miss this moment just added guilt to my feelings of defeat.
When the situation that we are in overwhelms us, it feels impossible to see past today. It doesn’t matter if someone offers the advice that it won’t last forever. We don’t really care that somewhere someone is wishing for our struggle. We don’t think twice about how sad we will feel when this stage is a memory.
We just cannot see past the moment. We only want relief from the exhaustion. We can be sad about how we will feel when it is over… tomorrow. It is today that seems to overwhelm our hearts.
So, to you in your moment, I won’t say any of those things. I won’t say you’re going to regret wishing this away. I won’t remind you how short this will really be… especially when today feels like an eternity.
I will just say this.
Girl, I feel ya.
I understand right where you are.
You don’t have to feel guilty for being overwhelmed. You don’t have to feel inadequate for just barely making it. You don’t have to feel like a failure if it isn’t turning out like you thought it would.
You’re not alone in how you feel.
Will we miss all of this someday? Probably. But until then, maybe you can find some comfort in knowing that somewhere in Oklahoma there is a momma just like you praising Jesus for early bedtimes and new mercies each morning.
