waves

The other day I was playing with Kapria and as she ran around pushing her stroller and calling out in her adorable voice “Mo-o-o-m!” and just looking like the best thing that has ever happened to me, I had this wave of sadness come over me. And I thought to myself, I don’t ever want her to grow up and get bigger and not be this tiny little person who I can hold and cuddle with and rock to sleep. I just can’t stand it that she won’t be this person forever.

I was heartbroken for awhile that day as I continued playing with her and laughing at how she tries to repeat everything I say and watching her run over to the bookshelf, pull out a book, then sit down to look through it on her own.

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On Tuesday our ward had enrichment. That is where all the women in our area are invited to gather and spend time together without children and husbands and just enjoy a relaxing and “enriching” evening (get it?). Often it includes a craft. And dessert. And good chatting. And good lessons, talks, or musical numbers. And always friends.

And often I want to go…until the exact time to go arrives, and then I don’t want to. Usually this feeling hits as I am heading home from work (because enrichment is generally held on Tuesdays, and those are the days I work in the office for 10–12 hours), and I’m tired and hungry and haven’t seen my hubby or my baby all day, and so everything says, “Go home! Go home! See your family!”

But then there’s the part of me that says, “Yes, but this only happens once every four months, and you so enjoy meeting with other moms and friends, so just go!”

So I decided to turn the wheel toward the church. Sure enough, we did all of the great things described above and we even had dinner. Wahoo for not cooking dinner! I loved laughing with friends and learning more about them and getting to be there without chasing a toddler all over the basketball court. But the best part came at the very end.

During dinner they had several different women perform musical numbers. Christie and Rachel sang “Silent Night.” One woman read an amazing true story that had me crying and that I’ll have to post later because it was beautiful (I’m not one for sappy stories, but this one really was amazing). Jennie played “The First Noel” on the cello. All of this was very good for my soul that night.

The last person to perform was a young woman who sang my very favorite Christmas song. She is the daughter of our Relief Society President and is probably in her mid twenties. She sang the song beautifully, all verses of it. Somewhere in the middle I looked over at her mom, who was standing against the back wall during the performance.

And as I watched Moana watching her daughter sing, another wave came. This time it was a wave of peace. Because I saw in her face the love and joy and pride she has for her daughter, and I imagined the relationship that I can one day have with Kapria. Even thinking about that moment now makes me cry. I know I’ll miss kissing Kapria’s tiny hands and picking her up when she falls and walking into her room in the morning to see her jumping up and down in her crib, greeting me with the biggest, brightest smile (which can be seen just behind her pink pacifier). I will miss all of those things immensely.

But there will be other things to look forward to. I needed that reminder, and Heavenly Father sent it to me that night as a young woman sang “O Holy Night” to her mom.

100%

I love being a mom. It is the most happy-making, heart-filling role to have. It is a role that I was meant to fill.

Sometimes I just look at Kapria and think, "How could something so perfect and so beautiful and so lovable have come from me?"


And then a I remember that even though she is part of me physically, she never really came from me. She's 100% from God and 100% his. I have the sacred job of kissing and hugging her daily. Of playing with her. Of helping her brush her teeth. Of reading her bedtime stories. And of teaching her about how much God loves her and what she needs to do to see him again.

I'll never find a better job than that.