(Photo Credit: B.Mussack)
Babe,
It's our second year celebrating Mother's Day. Last year at this time, we didn't even know little Annie was a girl. And now, can you even imagine life without her?
Last year, it was you, me, and our tiny little baby bump. That bump got bigger after Mother's Day, and so did our love after she finally made her appearance in October. What a joyous day! What a scary day! Our little peanut changed our lives in big ways. Mostly good ways, of course.
But there are days, my love, when it's pretty apparent that becoming parents has its struggles too. For me, it's been an obvious struggle to remember that after my relationship with Jesus Christ, it's my relationship with you--not her--that matters most.
I spend all of my days with her. We giggle, play, and cuddle. I give her baths and change her diapers and attempt to keep the house clean in the midst of caring for her. (You might not believe me about that last part, but it's true--I really do try!) I spend all of my nights with her too. Not you--you've sacrificially taken up what seems to be permanent residence on the couch so she can sleep more comfortably next to her mama.
Annie and I are inseparable these days. And being a mom to a little baby comes with all.the.feels. Oxytocin abounds. I love to nurse her, tickle her, watch her sleep, watch her discover new things. My relationship with her is so easy and so natural.
But what of my relationship with you? Two years + one baby into marriage, that relationship doesn't always seem terribly easy or natural. On many days, I'm so worried about taking care of the physical needs of the now three people in this house (clothing, food, shelter--and I'm not even great at that) and you're so worried about providing for your TWO girls, that we pass each other by. We don't waste time together like we used to, because where would we find an extra moment to waste?
I spend a lot of time marveling at the miracle that our daughter is. It's a miracle that we got pregnant in the first place. And I have never been so amazed at anything as watching a baby grow from the size of two cells to a crawling (well, scooting) six-month-old with her daddy's hair and her mommy's eyes. But maybe the greater miracle is the marriage that brought her into existence in the first place. God taking two people--two wills, two minds, two hearts, two different ways of doing everything from communicating to cleaning toilets--and making them one. And then giving them the grace to carry on through every single monotonous day. The grace to live together, to bring forth life together--heck, the grace to agree on which movie to watch. Sometimes that's a miracle!
There's a whole day for me to celebrate being a mom to our little miracle baby. But what kind of mom am I if I forget that my role as your wife is more important than being her mom? Isn't that the greatest gift we can give Annie--and any successive sibs that come along--a strong and united marriage? An understanding that our relationship comes first? And in reality, while I know that being a great mother is something that God wants me to prioritize, at the end of my life, it's how I loved YOU that will be the real question. YOU are my vocation. YOU are my horse to heaven. How I loved YOU will be the main topic of conversation when I meet my Maker. And together, our love for Annie can only be real insofar as it's an overflow of our love for one another. That's what Pope St. John Paul II said, right? "Children don't want to be loved with a separate love, but rather to be caught up in the love parents have for each other."
This Mother's Day, we'll celebrate my relationship with little Annie. But I want you to know that in my heart, I'm really going to be celebrating my relationship with you, because the two relationships both flow from the same place. She didn't make me a mom--YOU did. We made each other parents by our love for one another, which, in reality, is just an outpouring of God's love for each of us.
Thank you for loving me unconditionally. Thanks for being the real miracle around here. The real miracle of our marriage is that someone could look at this broken, sinful woman--could see all of my flaws and errors--my quick temper, my mean words, my selfishness and pride--and still.just.love. Somehow, you see goodness in all of it. Annie can't do that--and she probably never will be able to in the way you do, because I've learned that parents and children tend to see the goodness in each other while pretty much overlooking the bad. But you? You love me in the best way, because it's the most like Jesus. You see it all and somehow find a way to love me through it. It's not natural for humans to do that--and that's why marriage is the greatest miracle I've seen yet. Because at the end of these seemingly insignificant days, it really is God's grace binding our hearts together--nurturing and protecting what He created when He made us one.
I love you. And in these days of optional hubbys and disposable daddies, I want you to know that I need you. We need you. Thank you for making me a mom, but even more, for making me a wife. YOUR wife. I couldn't be one without the other. I'm sorry for the too-many-times I get my priorities mixed up, and I vow to try again tomorrow. And the next day. And the next day. And the next. Our little girl's purpose in life is to leave us--to go somewhere else and live out her own vocation. Our job is to prepare her to do that. But our greater purpose--our sacred duty--our real ticket to Heaven--is to cling tighter to each other and to the Lord with each boring, simple, little day that passes. What an utterly amazing miracle is the grace that teaches our sinful hearts to do that!
Love,
Babe
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