Growing Pains.

I feel God in everything, but I really see His face and hear His voice when I look into the faces of my miraculous children. I could sing His praises all day for the rest of my days, thanking him for allowing me to be "mommy" to these two amazing boys.

“Through the blur, I wondered if I was alone or if other parents felt the same way I did - that everything involving our children was painful in some way. The emotions, whether they were joy, sorrow, love or pride, were so deep and sharp that in the end they left you raw, exposed and yes, in pain. The human heart was not designed to beat outside the human body and yet, each child represented just that - a parent's heart bared, beating forever outside its chest.” 
― Debra Ginsberg

Within the spaces of my heart, filled with immeasurable love, also lies a great sorrow as I think of my children growing and eventually leaving. Each new season brings so much joy and so much struggle. The last 6 years or so have changed me more than I could ever measure.

Growing pains. That's really the theme of my life, it seems. When my family grew to include my husband's family, it was painful, messy, and at times even internally violent. I didn't (and don't) like sharing my loved ones and my time with them. I selfishly clung to this past life that I had before marriage, unwilling to meet the eyes of these new people that I was now expected to spend holidays with, and eventually...share my children with.

Now, almost five years after becoming my husband's bride, I still have growing pains. In-laws are hard. Breaking tradition, forging your own, and keeping a family in-tact is delicate, difficult, and painful work. And...I know I'm not the only one that experienced the growing pains when I entered the family, so...it's a push and pull. We'll get there. This is but a season of growing pains that will eventually settle, mellow, and change from a fragile sapling to a matured and sturdy great white oak.

The same pains of growth can be found within the four walls of our warm, family home as well. As Oliver grows, my heart feels these strange and wild emotions, bordering grief and mourning and sheer excitement. I cannot wait to watch him grow, to run, to transform into this strong, unique person, but a huge part of me clings to the years spent snuggling beneath blankets, teaching him the simplest words, and kissing his sleeping face as his entirety relaxes into me--his safe haven, his strong fortress, his everything.

We'll be fine; it's always fine. We will find a balance in all things: familial relationships, traditions, and knowing when to hold on and when to let go of each stage of our children's lives. They are all relevant and intertwined. We learn when to push and when to let go when our children are going on five...and 25. It's this quiet, internal (but sometimes loud and boisterous) feral dance we all take part in. We thrash around, feeling joy and feeling pain, holding onto the past and reaching for the future.

And...although it hurts more than I can imagine, I'm glad that this life is mine. I'm glad these pains are my own. I get to be a part of something so huge, so magnificently great. I can't wait to feel these deep pains and joy all over again with my dear Dexter William as well.

Cheers.