My whole life I’ve learned that the whole of life can change in an instant. All it takes is a second. It’s one decision. One poor choice. One perfect moment. It’s meeting someone unexpected. Bumping into a human who will change the course of the rest of your life. It’s trusting a man who you should never have said hello to. Taking a walk with a stranger. Electing to walk home alone sober rather than wait for your drunken friends. Saying yes to going for a coffee with someone you hardly know. It’s getting sick. It’s deciding to persevere and keep going despite the odds. Life… it’s filled with so many “moments” and it’s steered us to where we are in this very moment.
My 7-week old baby lies against my chest. Fast asleep. He breathes deep, occasionally twitching, smiling, grunting and then peace and quiet returns. His rhythmic breathing pushing down against me feels so calming. They say skin to skin regulates a baby, but honestly I think it regulates me just as much. I feel utterly exhausted. Seven weeks of barely any sleep. Husband working non-stop, including weekends as he finishes work-ups for deployment. They say parenting can be lonely, well this week I’ve really felt that for the first time. But despite the loneliness and the sleep deprivation and the deep urge for some of my old life to return… I wouldn’t change any of it. This “moment”, this moment right here has been one I have prayed for and hoped for and longed for – more than anything else in my entire life. The moment Asher was born my heart split open in a way I NEVER knew was possible. Yes, people have always told me about this love that is unexplainable. But let’s be real for a second… unless you actually experience it for yourself, you’re never going to even slightly understand what they’re talking about. And then Asher happened. And suddenly everything I’d ever heard anyone say about this love, this feeling, this moment… just like that, it all made sense.
I look at his perfect little face. His long eye lashes. The little hairs on his head. His tiny lips. This moment… this boy… this miracle… every other moment in my life had to happen for THIS monumental moment to come to pass. Overwhelming feelings and emotions start to build up as I see snapshots of my entire life flash before me. Me as a young child, my family, my siblings, my parents. I remember happiness and light. Vacations and trips. School, sport, homework, friends. And then I see my 12-year-old self standing in that shower for hours trying to wash off the innocence that man had taken from her. An event that would change everything forever. I see the bright young girl fade away slowly, piece by piece. I see her find alcohol as a comfort until it no longer comforts enough. I see the instant drugs are introduced, the wrong friends are welcomed in and then the eye contact made between her and her trafficker. One moment. It’s all it took. I see decisions that took away the chance to go to the olympics. I see so much pain and torture and hurt that young girl had to walk through, all because she sought validation from a man who would almost completely ruin her. I see instances where she completely gave up but thankfully others stepped in, moments where her life almost ended so many times. I watch hope unfold only to be dashed all over again. Anger, hurt, pain… they fill so many pockets of years of moments, and yet so many periods of joy and success are sprinkled throughout. I see her meet her husband, and smile as one of her greatest miracles unfolds. I watch many more hard years transpire as they start trying for a child, only to be met by unimaginable disappointment month after month, which eventually turns into year after year. I watch her finally find out she’s pregnant, only to experience a horrendous miscarriage just a few months later. I see the tears. I see her begging God to save the child they waited for so long. I see her crumble to her knees when she realizes that miracle won’t survive. I watch her go through surgery to remove the very gift they had prayed for and then I watch the agonizing months that follow as she fights for her life from a hospital bed.
So many moments. Too many to recall. Too many to write down. And yet each one had to happen for me to end up right here. I look down at his perfect little face… I would re-live all of it in a heartbeat for him.
As I sit in my rocking chair, Asher remains fast asleep against my chest. I should put him down for a proper nap, but right now I don’t care. Five and a half years of waiting for him, I’m going to soak up every little moment I can. Because that’s all it is. They’re moments. The moments of him being this tiny will be gone before I know it. The moments of feeling isolated and lonely will pass. The sleep deprivation won’t last. These precious and incredibly intimate moments I get to experience with my son during the deep hours of the night, will soon be just a fleeting memory. Just like everything else… it doesn’t last.
Each moment gets us to where we are today. But we have to remember, they are only moments. I’ve walked through seasons that have felt like I literally lived in hell. And now I feel like there are times where my life couldn’t be better in any way. MOMENTS. They shift and they mold, they’re moving and adjusting constantly.
A few weeks ago after being discharged from the hospital with Asher, I ended up right back in the hospital a week later. A postpartum infection… but within days my crazy, unknown, undiagnosed autoimmune ‘thing’ started attacking my body again. Everything inside of me wanted to go into straight panic. Last year this thing almost killed me. This year I have a son. I have a baby who is fully dependent on me. When my oxygen started dropping and I lost the ability to walk again… I can’t explain the fear that wanted to take over my entire mind. My heart had exploded open with love in a way I had never experienced before. But with that came an unimaginable protection for this little boy. I couldn’t go through this again. And as I lay in the ICU, staring at my beautiful, helpless, innocent little baby, I made a decision that this was also just going to be a “moment” and it would pass. I knew deep down that my journey to becoming a mom was not ending with Asher being just a few days old.
Life… the whole of life… it’s made up of moments. Every single one of us is walking through something right now. Whether it’s good, bad, great, awful, incredible or impossible. We’ve all experienced a little of all of it. Today I want to encourage you that if it’s hard, if it’s painful, if it seems never-ending… it will end. It will change. Moments can seem like an eternity but in a blink of an eye – it’s gone. It’s over. Finished.
I never thought there was a whole life waiting for me beyond the prison walls of my past. And though there have continued to be heartaches and seasons of grief, intense hardships and enormous tragedy, I have encountered breathtaking epiphanies in the midst of it all. In the moments of stillness I see the incredible beauty that’s been able to emerge from the chaos and the tears. Moments, that without the impossible, would have never led me to my present right here. So whatever it is… keep going. Keep moving. Keep believing. Because life can change in an instant and you don’t want to miss the moment it happens.
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