We hear this phrase a lot as moms. "Don't worry, it gets better." We hear it when we're bleary eyed, wondering if we'll ever get past the newborn sleep deprivation stage. We hear it when we don't think we can muster the courage to nurse that baby one more time. We hear it when we drop off our toddler at some childcare room and he screams as though you've just abandoned him. And those people are right, it does get better. Eventually they sleep through the night, they learn to eat real food, they understand that you'll be back.
But then sometimes people will give you some hard truth. "It gets harder." What?! What do you mean it gets harder?! They give you a little glimpse of what your schedule will look like with two kids playing eight hundred sports a piece. They say you'll wish your biggest issue is your kid throwing food off his high chair instead of whether he abides by curfew. You'll yearn for the days of sweet baby snuggles and the pitter patter of little feet.
Well, I choose "it gets better," and this is why. Even while decisions get more complicated and I learn every day just how impossible it is to control the actions of another human being, I am glad that my children are becoming their own people. This past weekend at church, I sit down in the pew next to my husband and 3-year-old son who are staying in service to watch the children's choir. A second after I sit and take my coat off, I feel a hand gently patting me on the back. At first I thought it was Andy greeting me. Then I realized it was my son. He wasn't asking for anything, he was simply saying hi to me in the sweetest way. A newborn doesn't do that. A one year old doesn't really do that either. He's growing out of those sweet innocent baby phases, but in place of that he's becoming a little person, one who chose to express love to me that morning just because. I love my memories of his baby years, but moments like this remind me why I choose to see the joy that comes with each new phase. I choose to believe that it does indeed get better.
