Fatherhood

It's been a long time since I've updated on my little baby. I'm not going to lie, it's hard to find anything to write about because he's just so darned perfect.

I try to not dream too much about the future, because I don't want my happiness to depend on him making the decisions that I want him to make, but sometimes I just can't help it. Especially when I see him with his dad.

Did you know that boys who grow up without a father are 2/3 more likely to end up in prison? That is sad, but what is even more sad is that we don't have statistics about boys whose father was in the home, but they still might as well have grown up without a dad.

I knew when I married Jordan that he would be a great dad. I don't mean your average great dad. I mean a FANTASTIC dad. He is so invested in people in general, I knew that when he had children they would be the most doted on kids in the universe.

Jordan, of course, adores Noah. I have never personally seen a dad beg a mom for his baby (not saying that it doesn't happen, just that it doesn't happen often enough). Every Sunday at church when I bring our boy from the nursery, I meet Jordan with his hands out for him. When he comes home from work I immediately have to hand Noah over. He is sad when he has to go to work. He just loves this kid more than anything.

Isn't that the way all dads should be? After all, aren't they supposed to show their children what a loving Father God is? Isn't that what keeps them out of trouble and into grace?

I know my kid's going to be alright.

A definitive moment

I could blame this on hormones-- and I think I will just a little bit-- but I had a major turning point in how I viewed myself and The Peanut this week.

I have been so self-consumed throughout this pregnancy. Part of that, I know, comes from the simple surprise of it all. I had made so many plans for myself that did not include a baby for at least five more years. I was a newlywed and completely in love with my husband and content to spend the next few years living with him alone. And then that pink line.

You see, I struggle anyway with the idea that I will never amount to anything. Sometimes I believe that lie, usually at night or when I'm by myself, and I spend at least a few hours in absolute misery because I've always preached that there is a plan for all of us and that it's important. And I believe that for everyone on the planet, except myself sometimes.

When I found out I was pregnant and we started telling people, one of the first things that someone said to me was, "Just wait. You won't be Kasey anymore. You'll be so and so's mom." I know that this person thought it was a compliment (honestly, I don't even remember who said it anymore), but it horrified me. Absolutely horrified me. I didn't want my entire existence to revolve around anyone else, even my child. It still horrifies me to a certain extent. Because I have to believe that God still has plans for me outside of motherhood.

It might be that kind of thinking that causes moms to not know what to do with themselves anymore after the kids go to college.

So I fought the idea. Eventually, I realized that I was in my 7th month of pregnancy and when someone called me "mom" it immediately sent chills down my spine (and not in a good way). My immediate thought was always "I'm not a mom yet!" And usually this interaction was followed by a quick trip to a restroom to regain my composure and pinch myself to be sure that I was still Kasey, and not just somebody's incubator.

So when I realized that the birth of my child was only a month or so away, I changed the name of my blog. And it took everything within me to do so. I didn't want to think about motherhood at 24. I didn't want motherhood until at least 28. But I knew I needed to face my fear head on. And this was the way to do it.

Then this week happened. The week before The Peanut arrives. Nothing like the Lord to wait until the last minute, right?

I viewed a blog of a friend of mine who lost her precious daughter just moments after birth. They whisked her out of the room so quickly that my friend didn't see her and ended up never seeing her daughter alive. I looked at the pictures. And I cried and cried. And for the first time since I've been pregnant, I actively and genuinely prayed for Noah. For his health and for his safety. It's awful to say that I didn't pray for him this entire nine months, but it's the blatant and honest truth. It took me looking at an awful situation and realizing how unworthy I am of this blessing of life. How selfish I've been-- resenting being pregnant when there are many women around me that are wishing that they could have what I have. And so I begged God to make him healthy, so I could have another chance to love this little being.

I know that hormones bring you up and down, but that experience has left me with such an appreciation for this child that I didn't know before in all of my pregnancy. It's also given me a new found will to make my own dreams come true so that he will have a mom that he can be truly proud of and can look up to as an example of overcoming the odds.

One Year Mark

Well, today marks one year since I started this crazy journey. I did not succeed, but I still feel really successful. I'm going to keep the list of books up and still cross them off as I go, but I have so much more going on in my life now that I just think setting these nearly unattainable goals is distracting me from what is really important.

I have been considering changing the name to my blog for a while. I love to read, and I have really missed running, but I think I'm turning a corner in my life where these things are not going to take the kind of priority that they used to have.

What I actually have been wanting to write about really centers more around pregnancy and motherhood- especially as it pertains to my generation. Throughout this pregnancy, I have been plagued with the idea that I'm all alone in how I feel. This isn't because there aren't a wealth of forums and blogs out there about being a mother, but because they are really missing the frank-ness that I have felt throughout this pregnancy. It's not all roses. Sometimes when someone tells you, "It'll all be worth it," you really want to punch them in the teeth. I understand that it was totally worth it for you. I really really believe and hope that I will feel the same way. But does it always feel like it will be worth it?

Sometimes it's really a matter of the time we live in now. Thirty years ago I imagine that adoption was not as popular as it is now. In fact, from what I gather, it seemed to be a last resort. But now, it's basically in vogue. So when you're throwing up in the toilet at El Torreros and basically scarring the little girl for life in the stall next to you, sometimes you wonder how this can all be worth it when I could fly to Nigeria and basically buy a child.

I know it's a lot harder than that-- but time consuming just doesn't compare to miserable suffering in my book. Because, let's be honest, for most of us, pregnancy is gross.

I have finally, after a long, long, almost 9 month journey, begun to realize that my child is precious. I can't help it that it took a while, and after much prayer I finally felt like God was telling me that it was ok to have struggled with pregnancy and motherhood as much as I did. No one can ever make me feel guilty about my feelings. Child bearing is really quire terrifying- even more so when you didn't expect to be harboring one for another 5 years or so.

I'm sure I'll revisit a lot of these themes later on, but I did want to give a little introduction as to the path of the blog (probably from now on). It will be interlaced with jobs and goals and other family and friend matters, but I'm realizing now that the little peanut will always be at the center of my life from now on.

It's feeling a little more ok every day.