The other night I was going for a walk/run in the neighborhood and a thought occurred to me. Over the last 4 years I've been pregnant 3 times. 3 times my body has housed another person, expanded and shrunk 40+ pounds, and then sustained that person on nothing but my own milk for another 6 months. I am tired and worn. In this very fertile stage of our life I found myself wondering why (and how) I try to get back in shape and "get my body back" during these brief windows of not being pregnant or post partum. It's like I need to reclaim as my own what has been given over to another person for the past year. Being pregnant is hard. Its nauseating and painful. It stretches muscles and ligaments, shifts bones, bruises and breaks your body in ways sometimes temporary and sometimes permanent. Delivering a baby out of your body is hard work. It breaks you in mind in body. You are simultaneously at your most vulnerable and most powerful, as you are using all of your strength and will to produce another whole person. Breastfeeding is hard. Physical pain and sacrifice at first, time and energy sacrifice as it goes on.
As I was walking and thinking about these things, I wondered if there was even a point to me trying to "get my body back" when for the last four years, and likely a few more years, it belongs to someone else? Am I here for any other purpose other than to house and feed the next generation? Is this the reason God made my body and put it here on earth and then gave me Cody? For the good of the people we make together? I almost feel used. My body is (and thus I am), here for other people to use. I feel used up sometimes-- sometimes broken, like I will never be my whole self that belongs only to myself again. Then, as my walk turned to home, I realized the beauty in being used and broken for the good of someone else. My God, literally, My God--did the same thing for us. He was put on earth to have His body used and broken. His mind and his will tested to the limits. So yes, my body is being used in this vocation. It is sore and broken and tired. And dignified. And the suffering required for the good of another person (or three little people) is sanctified because Jesus did it first for us. When He was at his most vulnerable-- stripped, beaten and broken, He was ironically at his most powerful because his sacrifice was powerful enough to save the whole world. At my most vulnerable during these cycles of fertility, I am doing the most powerful thing imaginable-- making new people and new souls. And I thank God for the ability to have a small taste of what He did for us. Especially because my body is being used up for these little people:
Just some thoughts while I was out walking.
2 comments:
Great post and I can relate. Just the other day I was wondering if there was ever going to be a point in the next 8-10 years when I would be neither pregnant or breastfeeding (or both). Nothing is totally yours when you are a Mom and you are never totally yourself when you are pregnant/nursing...or are you, in fact, totally yourself in those moments because that is where God has called you at that time?? Interesting food for thought. I just want to know what it would be like to drink three glasses of guilt free wine all in one night! Someday... :)
Erin, awesome maternal musings- you are so eloquent about expressing the concept of the joys and sorrows that are both so integral to a mother's love. Why do you think I love being a grandmother so much? All the joys and none of the sorrows....just you wait, you'll see!
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