I'm not quite certain how much time I spend in a day holding my little one and staring at her. I never thought I could just sit still for hours on end but somehow the moments melt into memories the longer I hold her. I feel like I've barely blinked and almost two months have passed. It's the reason I'm holding onto this time and forgetting the usual to do lists. I'm cutting myself some slack for couch sitting knowing it's the means to relishing this time that will all too soon be fleeting.
There's a lot of truth to this photo caption, recognizing the most important job title I will ever hold doesn't come with an actual paycheck. The obvious question I get so often is when I will return to work. The answer isn't a simple countdown of days. In fact it's caused me to understand my role with all new enlightenment. My work is not clocked in hourly wages. It's counted in memory making. My accomplishments aren't necessarily applauded by coworkers. It's the joy on the faces of my little ones seeing their delight from new discoveries and pride from their own achievements.
Today may be a new recipe I master. Tomorrow may be the organization of a drawer or closet. But in between the brokenness of my daily schedule, interrupted by a fussy baby, another feeding, or a diaper blow out, I'm learning to embrace this new normal. I often put pressure on myself for not doing enough - somehow I feel like I'm missing responsibilities or selling my infant daughter short of some learning opportunity. Surely I should be mastering some homemaking skill and teaching her something new each day, right?! The fact of the matter is I stare at the personalized scripture of Psalm 139 and realize that each day of her life was written in His book even before she entered this world. God knew that on this cold blustery day her first new experience would be the flurries of snowflakes falling outside. He also knew I would be wondering what else I could add to our eat-sleep-playmat-swing-repeat rotation. He would give me a peace about this day as He ordained it for me and for her knowing I would need the reminder to simply be a mom and recognize that as my most important accomplishment today.
I've been talking to her - in fact, I've been reading the words of this blog and she's been kicking and cooing away. Turns out I don't have to say anything significant or profound for her to be content. Sometimes it's just hearing my voice that calms her. This is a new day, a new normal and a new opportunity to learn. But rest assured it's not just her doing the learning. It's also me. I'm learning to be still in the quietness of a sleeping baby. I'm learning to find peace in the moments of rest that come intermittently. I'm learning to adjust to an interrupted schedule. I'm learning to be content with momentary accomplishments that by the world's standards would not amount to much of anything but by this little one's expectations seem to bring delight to her life. This is my new normal. I won't get this day back and I won't have a second chance to live it again. So today I'm holding my baby, reading her these words as I type one-handed. (And that in itself should be considered a lofty accomplishment!)