Dear Younger Me

I remember the days well. Though, perhaps not as well as you. Things have a haze over them now. A fog that leaves them without clear detail, fuzzy around the edges. The sleepless nights nursing by the glow of a muted tv, the incessant, persistent screaming of a baby incapable of being comforted, these things are just foggy flashes now. But I know they were real. I remember crying almost as much as that sweet new baby girl. I remember staring out the window and feeling the world caving in around me. I remember it all. I remember it because I lived it. I lived it and made it through.

Dear younger me, you're not alone. Though it seems like you have no one who understands, no one who comprehends the constant pain and loneliness of having a high needs newborn, I'm here to say you'll be ok. The fears that are a barrage late at night, the ones that whisper, There's something wrong with her. There's something wrong with you. You're failing. She's suffering because you're her mother. Shame on you. Those will fade. Not completely. But I promise you, as that sweet baby grows and blossoms into a rolly, chubby, fun loving baby; into a tenacious, bright, energetic toddler; into a diligent, kind, compassionate child; you will find relief. You will know that there are victories in motherhood.

And, can I let you in on a secret, younger me? You'll see the greatest success because of the hardships you now face. You'll know victory when you see that she is a wonderful friend, because you prayed friendship over her so diligently. You'll know happiness when you hear her tell you and her Daddy how she loves you, when you hear her soft, clear voice reading and singing and laughing so much more than screaming, because you pleaded with God for the screaming to stop. You'll experience the most explosive sort of love when you see what an amazing big sister she is to your two younger girls, because you prayed kindness and love over her.

She is equipping you now for bigger things ahead. She is stretching your patience so you'll have a large well to draw from in years to come. She is increasing your faith for the times ahead when you'll need to cling to God for your life. And one day, there will be incredible joy in motherhood, where now you only see confusion, incompetence, and pain.

So, younger me, I pray you'll keep your chin up. I pray you'll find a way to cherish the moments that are good. I pray you'll tuck each smile into you're heart. I pray you'll memorize the feeling of that velvety soft head pressed into your shoulder. That you'll never forget that delicate hand against your chest. These moments are more than fleeting. They are a breath that passes when you're not paying attention. Hold tight, younger me. Hold tight to today and have faith in tomorrow.

There, but by the grace of God, go I.

As a mother of young children, I find my news feed continuously filled with horrific articles, most often with kids around my own babies ages ending up hurt or killed. I'm not sure the reason or cause of this, something about cookies or Google tailoring articles to little ol' me, but I find myself opening the articles, reading them, and feeling my heart break.

It breaks for these little ones, lives cut short or tragically altered, but sometimes, it hurts more for the parents. The mother I imagine holding her baby's blankets, laying in their beds, smelling their smells and weeping. I think on how they will go on, knowing their babies won't be there tonight to put to bed or tomorrow to wake up, bright-eyed before dawn. I ache for them. I cry silent tears for them. And, as I close the article, somehow I then end up on the comment section and I am shocked to find that, somehow, my feelings of pain and empathy for these parents are often in the minority and opinions of fault and blame over the parents' actions are covering the feed.


The headline reads:

Three Year Old Killed in Car Accident
And instead of heartache, sympathy and compassion I see:
Was this child properly restrained? Maybe if she were rear facing...

Child Hit by Vehicle
Where were the parents? Idiots. I'd NEVER let my child get into the street...

Infant Left in Hot Car
These people don't deserve to by parents! I couldn't forget about MY child!

Toddler Attacked by Animal
These parents deserve to die! How could they be so stupid?



Comment after comment, steeped in cruelty, anger, and harsh judgement. These parents, facing the empty room of their baby, living the nightmare that each of us as mothers and fathers dread with every fiber of our beings, they face public shame on top of the horror of moving on without their little ones. My heart more than breaks for them, knowing that one moment, one incident, one mistake, misstep or miss judgement has just ended their lives in the most dramatic of ways. And as I grieve for them from my noise-filled home, over the sounds of little feet and bursts of giggles, I am filled with a sense that none of us truly know how very close we are to experiencing the same kind of pain these parents are feeling.



There, but by the grace of God, go I


I remember that time her sweaty, little toddler hand wriggled free from mine in a busy parking lot, but I caught her before she ran too far...


There, but by the grace of God, go I


I remember when I heard the loud screen door creek and slam and realized with sudden horror that my two-year-old figured out how to unlock the deadbolt and let herself outside. But, what if I was in the shower, or vacuuming, or listening to music while doing the dishes and I'd missed it...


There, but by the grace of God, go I


There was that time, the first week of her life, when she had to go to the doctor to be weighed every single day, and I was so very tired and her sister was only two and she was potty training and had wet herself as we were heading for the car and I was running late and I got everyone ready and in their seats and as I pulled out of the driveway and my mother looked at me and asked, "Where's the baby?" and I realized with horror that I had left my newborn sitting just inside the house. Alone. In her car seat. And I burst into tears as I ran inside wondering how long it would have been before I realized I'd forgotten my child...


There, but by the grace of God, go I



Each of us tries. We cut up our kids' hot dogs and buy them expensive car seats. We plan out daily schedules and trips to the zoo to teach them as much as we can while they are still young enough to love to learn from us. We hold their hands. We tuck them in. We check on them as they sleep, smooth back their hair, kiss their plump, firm little cheeks. We are the good parents. The ones that try. And yet, we are tragically and profoundly human. We are flawed. And, it is only through the grace of God that we are able to wake up at the crack of dawn every day with our beautiful babies and witness them laugh and cry and grow and change. And, we are each kidding ourselves if we think we are too good for tragedies to strike, for our mistakes or oversights or missteps to be fatal.

So, instead of pointing fingers, let us join hands. Let us pray for one another and encourage one another. Let us step off of our perfect parents platforms and remember There, but by the grace of God, go I.