I haven't had the words, hence my absence on here.
Between our surprise baby coming 3 months too early, Griffin being admitted emergently for a failing mitral valve and then life-flighted to Salt Lake yet again, and now adjusting to life at home with two under two who are both on oxygen and have various special needs - it has been a lot. Couple that with being the recovering perfectionist and stoic that I am, despite my many attempts to try and share something on here, I just kept coming up empty or writing something profoundly depressing.
But that's not what this post is about or what inspired it, so I'll leave all that there for now.
Jeremy was at our oldest son's orchestra concert last night and I took baby duty this time since, with the current onslaught of bugs, viruses, and plagues, we do not dare leave the house with them for anything other than doctor visits.
I decided to take the opportunity with both of them out of the house to wrap some presents.
I was on the floor doing my thing, not measuring anything but just trying to get it done before they got home. So I began wrapping my husband's gift, only to realize I should have measured before I started cutting because, lo and behold, I came up short. There was the tiniest sliver of the box still showing.
The old me would have been cursing and coming undone at this, irritated I was going to have to start all over, that I had wasted paper, that I wasn't better organized from the start....there would have been no end of irritants and overreactions at this holiday debacle.
But this time, and to my great surprise, I just laughed, rolled my eyes, and started ransacking the junk drawer and craft boxes for any bows or embellishments I could find to cover my oversight. When I came up empty, I grabbed a red sharpie, turned the box over, and addressed it directly onto the wrapping paper with an excessive amount of hearts and love notes, hiding the uncovered sliver up against the wall and behind the tree - and I carried on.
I remember writing a farewell note to the me that I was at the start of this journey. I thought I would miss that person a lot. Yet, as I slid my somewhat sad but utterly heartfelt and best-under-the-circumstances attempt under the tree, I realized: I miss that version of myself very little.
That woman gave herself ZERO grace.
That woman was uptight and too careful with all the wrong things.
That woman was fearful and controlling.
That woman cared way too much about what others thought.
That woman put her time and energy into way too many things that didn't matter.
That woman was impatient with herself and a perfectionist.
That woman put more effort into making sure the world around her believed she had it all together with very little effort, treasuring her pride rather than asking for help or taking the time and effort to reassure and lift the other women around her up.
That woman believed in her goodness and that that would get her through the days and this life mostly unscathed.
That woman would have never deigned to leave a present lovingly but imperfectly wrapped under the tree. She would have made everyone clean the house and stressed about the most minute details, making sure everything was organized and all supplies laid out perfectly before she sat on the floor to wrap the gifts. She would have been undone at something so silly as a present not being wrapped perfectly (and mind you, I have never been skilled at this art form in the first place) or the fact that the Christmas cookies might not get baked and frosted like a Pinterest pro. She would have stressed and rushed to have the Christmas tree up and the house redecorated for Christmas only hours after the Thanksgiving feast was done. She would have watched her son decorate the Christmas tree, enjoying every minute of his youthful enthusiasm, but then snuck behind him and rearranged the mod podge of ornaments all clustered to one side of the tree so it looked "better". She would have remembered Christ only briefly while stressing about getting everyone the perfect gifts. She would have been so wrapped up in trying to make the most magical Christmas memories that she forgot to sit on the floor playing with her kids or cuddling on the couch watching silly movies, and she would have missed the light in their eyes and joy in their smiles at all the little magical things happening around them.
That woman would have been horrified at me as I am now and argued at how all the stress and effort is what translates the love...and she would have missed all the absolute joy, best moments, and the point of all of this.
I was so determined to join the ranks of (as I perceived it at the time) the "best" "special needs moms" when I started this journey. I was hellbent on still putting my makeup on every day, jotting down every possibly-significant-at-some-point detail, making list upon list, having 5 calendars to keep everyone's activities and appointments straight and on time, gushing at the praise I received from everyone that, though my life had been upended, I was still holding it all together perfectly and mostly unchanged.
But now I'm more like that present: humbly undone, authentic and openly imperfect, fully present but slightly unraveled, held together by all the love I have for my family.
I still have a long way to go (I always will), and there were some good things about that former version of myself that I miss, but I think I like this me a lot better. She might be unraveled and undone, but she's more present and open to all the Christmas miracles happening - even the ones that simply look like messy half-wrapped presents, a half-decorated house cluttered with toys and medical equipment, and finding that burnt cookies still taste ok.
Photo by Natalie Bond: https://www.pexels.com/photo/close-up-of-a-christmas-ornament-14686108/
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