What I'd tell my young married self.

Some of you may already know this & for others, this may be the first time you're hearing me admit this.  It's not something I talk about a ton, but it's something that for a long time was very real to me.  See, I was never the girl at church who'd volunteer to hold your baby.  I'd come up with every excuse in the book if I was asked to babysit.  And truth be told, I didn't hold a newborn until I was 24 years old {thanks Al Pal!}.  I was just never "that girl."  And when I say "that girl," I'm referring to a majority of women, or at least it felt that way.  Honestly, for a long time I just felt like I didn't have that innate sense to nurture {yep… I said it}.  Ironically enough, I spent a summer in Peru at a boys orphanage where whether I realized it or not, I cared deeply for 33 little boys who felt like brothers to me.  Heavenly Father had even greater plans for me when I went into the education field…elementary education at that.  I LOVED those kids.  Granted, I taught 6th grade, but I seriously loved my students like they were my own.  In fact, a lot of times it felt that way.  Almost so much so, that I didn't feel any rush to have kids of our own any time soon.  Eventually I talked myself into the idea that I could love older kids.  They were fun.  They understood me and I understood them.  BUT BABIES.  That was another story.  Looking back, I think it was a combination of feeling like I already had my own and also that silent fear that I just wouldn't be able to nurture the way good mothers do.  It was hard for me when people would talk about women being born with an ability to love a certain way, when I felt like I just didn't have that gift.

I wish I could just hug my 21+ year old self and tell her that it was perfectly acceptable to wait as long as she did to have kids.  I'd tell her to enjoy that time she and JD would have together.  I'd tell her that those years of teaching would prepare her for motherhood in a way she could never imagine.  Teaching would help her to understand that not every day is cake.  There are really hard days, in fact.  And sometimes it takes a while to see the fruits of your labor, but when they finally come - although they may not happen as often as you'd like - they make every difficult, heart wrenching moment more than worth it.  She'd learn from those 2 years of standing in front of the room how to help multiple kids at once {a skill she'd need far sooner than she would've guessed!} and tend to many little voices and needs.  She'd learn that even when a little body tests your patience, at the end of the day, they're one of God's children and somehow she'd love them no. matter. what.  

I'd tell her that one day, she would be ready.  Suddenly she'd have this burning desire for a baby of her own.  And she'd have to wait.  She'd probably be surprised to hear that she'd shed tears, she wanted this so bad.  BUT, it would all be part of His plan - a plan that she was not expecting.  When she'd find out about both babies, it would shock her & even make her question what in the world she was doing.  She'd fall back into that, "Can I really mother a baby?  Let alone, two?"  But she'd do it.  I'd tell her it wasn't going to be easy, but that she could.  And she would.

I'd tell her that she would look into the eyes of her two growing babies, 10 months in, and still be in amazement that they were both hers and she was theirs.  She wouldn't be a perfect mom, but she sure would love the heck out of them.  She'd know how to nurture{!!} and care for them, even when times got hard.  I'd make sure to explain that this ability came not from herself, but from a loving God who had trusted her to watch over and care for these souls.  It'd be a big job, but it would be one that she would gladly do forever and ever, despite what those doubts and insecurities had once tried to convince her of.