—Rebekah Nash, CCC Member
"Your life is never going to be the same!"
I knew the sentiments expressed were true. I knew we were in for a life-altering, even life-disrupting, event. But I also had no idea what was about to happen.
I am a prideful person, and (one of) my primary sources of ill-placed pride is a sense of control over my surroundings, with a subsequent (and also ill-placed) sense of self-sufficiency. I like to believe that even if others fail to keep their side of the bargain, I can take up the slack. I (emphasis on “I”) will figure it out. And I hate to ask for help.
So, God in His wisdom called me to be a mom. While it may not take a village to raise a child, it definitely takes more than one person. The first week of William's life, I was hit, head first, in overwhelming, and tear-producing fashion, with this truth.
I was tired, tired, tired. In a way and to an extent that even years of medical school and residency could not compare. I was clueless, scared and convinced that every new symptom that William exhibited would land us in the dreaded emergency room with a fever. I was lonely. I dreaded the hours of night-time feedings, dreaded watching the sunset, dreaded seeing the windows in our neighborhood go dark, and dreaded knowing I would not be sleeping more than 2-3 hours in a row, for yet another night.
But I had help available! Dave, my parents, Dr. Jessie, amazing neighbors, and the incredible train of meals from each of you. I just hated to ask for help.
But, God in His mercy, slowly, patiently broke me of my pride. It is very hard to put on a brave face when you are sleep-deprived, covered in spit-up, and holding an inconsolable infant. So, I asked for help.
And I received help in overwhelming, overflowing measure (and still am!).
Dave stayed up through the night-time feeds, queuing up endless episodes of Parks and Recreation. I texted Jessie about every odd symptom that William developed (black stuff on his tongue? what is that goop coming out of his eye!?); and Jessie, time and again, patiently calmed my frantic mind. My parents cleaned our house, made dinner, and ran endless errands (MORE diapers!).
In the words of Sally Lloyd-Jones, God, with his “Never Stopping, Never Giving Up, Unbreaking, Always and Forever Love”, showed me my sinful pride and my need. But he did not leave me to despair. He gave me the support of family, friends – the body of Christ.