The Weight Of It All

It’s 4am. I slowly open his door and hear Baby J immediately begin to coo with relief. I lift his little body from the crib and settle myself into the chair. I pull his warm body into mine. He curls himself around me and presses his forehead into the crook of my arm. And I feel it: the weight of him, the weight of it all.

I feel it again later as little W nestles in beside me to read a story one little ankle crossed casually over the other and his body as close to mine as he can possibly get. “Fnuggling” as he calls it. He arranges his blanket just right and opens his favorite truck book. He lays his head on my shoulder and places his hand on my arm, and I feel it: the weight of him, the weight of it all.

It comes once more as M and I walk hand in hand up the stairs. She tucks her hand tightly into mine and insists we take the same step at a time. Her green eyes look up at me expectantly as she asks me if lizards have birthdays and if the sun ever gets tired. As I look down at her and answer her with accuracy and honesty I feel it: the weight of her, the weight of it all.

I feel it again when my alarm goes off in the morning. My body, my mind, and my heart are tired, but taking care of myself is critical to my success in taking care of them. So, I pull myself out of bed, do the exercise, say the prayers, and take a minute to prepare myself for the day that lies ahead. And I feel it: the weight of it all.

This weight brings me great comfort, great purpose, and great responsibility. This weight has become one of the defining pieces of my life. I am honored to carry it. Truly, it is a privilege to be a mother, and as heavy as it is sometimes, I hope that this weight is with me forever. We all carry it, don’t we? Whether our weight is about getting a baby to sleep, healing a sick child, preparing for an audition for the school play, completing a science project on time, navigating teenagers in their complicated social situations, or sending a child off to college, we all carry this noble weight. It changes form, but I imagine that it always feels the same. It can be heavy, yes, but it is through that heaviness that come some of life’s greatest joys.

May we always, always have the strength to carry on.

Find the joy~

Jessica

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