I made a mistake today.
But first, a preface to the story. Because I like long blogs and stuff like that. Anyways. See, my back has been hurting very badly lately. By the end of the day a couple of days ago, I couldn't even bend over. Why? Simply bad posture. Leaning forward slightly to where my back curves in order to nurse the baby takes a major toll on my shoulder and neck area. In addition, I'm constantly bending over to pick her up out of her playpen. I try to do the whole bend at the knees thing as much as possible, but it's just not a viable option much of the time.
So I felt it was time to fix it. I had been nursing her in a disk chair, so I didn't have good back support. I decided to switch it out for my nice office chair. (This is the mistake part I mentioned earlier).
My four month old went on a hunger strike. I am not even joking. She nursed for maybe seven minutes and then refused to eat any more. I tried nursing with my nursing pillow, without it, and even with and without it on the bed. Nothing. She refused to eat. She didn't want a pacifier. She was slightly placated with a teething ring for about five minutes. Didn't want to walk around. I was so confused. Maybe she actually is hungry? Tried nursing on the couch. Nope. What do I do?!?! Finally, after she was screaming her lungs out, I decided that she MUST be hungry, because it had been a while since she had eaten, so I gave in and gave her a bottle. I did NOT want to do this as I'm low on bottles and have three major trips coming up in the next two months (plus I'm trying to keep my milk supply up in case she increases her intake, as babies are prone to do at this age). But alas, the child must be fed.
She took the bottle (Yay!!), and it satisfied her just enough to where she was willing to nurse on the couch. Then I put her on her play mat, tried to hold back the tears, told her I loved her, and made sure she was cooing.
Then I locked myself in the bathroom and sobbed for fifteen minutes.
"Why God? Why did you make her SO MUCH like me? I don't like me! I didn't want an emotional, fussy child. I needed an easy one to practice on first! She used to be so compliant and...happy. What did I do wrong?! I wanted a mini-Matthew! Please God. Please. I don't know what I'm doing. I didn't even HAVE a mother to model child-rearing for me (I actually DID have a mother, but...well let's just say I was no longer living with her by age five). I DON'T KNOW WHAT I'M DOING. And by 'Don't know what I'm doing', I don't mean it the way most people do who can say "Oh my gosh I'm turning into my mother". How fortunate for them. I am so completely and totally lost. Please don't let me mess up my child. I want to do well. It's sooo important to me to do well. What do I do?! You've got to help me!"
Nothing. Not a stir. No whisper in my heart. No thunderous answer or big booming voice. I suddenly felt so alone.
To make matters worse, I was going to Bible study that night and was seriously reconsidering this option because I did not want to bring an unhappy, fussy baby out in public. That's just rude. Fortunately, though, she calmed down enough to where I felt comfortable taking her out. I brought a bottle and had everything all ready to go.
On the way, I prayed some more and thought a lot. I want so badly to be a good mom. It's my dream job. It's what I've always wanted to do. To top it off, I am determined to do better by my children because of the way I grew up. It is my number one desire for life and always has been (Ok, only since I was fifteen, but that's long enough). Was I even doing it right? I didn't know. How do I raise this child? And not just 'raise' her, but raise her well to where people find her to be a joy to be around and she has manners and minds me and all that jazz? How do I know if I'm doing it right?
And finally, in those quiet moments of contemplation on that car ride, the whisper came.
"Let ME mold her into who I want her to be. Let Me."
"But I have to mold her" (because I seriously doubt He's coming down here to raise her).
"She will mold you, too."
And suddenly I understood what my job is. It's not to get it perfect. It's not to do everything exactly right. My job is to seek God as much as I can in this journey and let Him guide me on how to raise her. In that process, while He's molding her through me, she will be molding me as I learn her personality, her likes and dislikes. Sometimes she may seem just like me, but she's really not. She's a completely separate other human being, and it's my job to be her guide pointing her right back to the One who gave her life.
The Bible study went fairly well, and the host left me with the words "She did good!" ringing in my ears. But the best part was yet to come.
After her pajamas and diaper change, I nursed her (on the bed to avoid another hunger strike) until I didn't feel like she was getting enough (because I had pumped since she had a bottle). Then I heated up a bottle. She adamantly refused this, so I just walked around with her. She laid her sweet little head on my shoulder, which she never does unless she's asleep. She was cuddling with me. Of her own accord. For the first time ever (she's four months old). Then she started to get a bit fussy so I tried the bottle again. She didn't want that. Pacifier? Nope.
She wanted to nurse from her Mama. She wanted me. And suddenly it was all worth it.
Sometimes I may not get it right. I will often get it wrong. But all I can do is my best and let God handle the rest.
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