You go a little crazy with love. You do. In a way that you could never understand before you become a parent. In a way for which nothing could prepare you. You go a little crazy with love.
You find yourself holding your child in your aching arms, but unable to put them down. You find yourself staring at the color of their cheeks, the simple & beautiful rise and fall of their breath, each eyelash, perfectly formed mouth. You begin to understand the phrase “Fearfully and wonderfully made.”
You marvel at tiny hands that can reach out and grasp your fingers, and subsequently panic when others (friends and strangers alike) touch those hands because they are constantly in your baby’s mouth, and who knows when the last time THEY washed their hands. You might even say something rude, but at the very least, you walk around with wipes at the ready. Crazy. But crazy with love.
You walk around speaking in incoherent phrases and unable to remember words. You are more tired than you have ever been in your life, but you get sudden shocks of energy when your baby looks into your eyes and smiles. Your heart weighs ten thousand pounds when they cry.
You become comfortable with bodily functions and fluids. You discuss poop with enthusiasm! You learn to spot bathe yourself with diaper wipes–in the middle of the night when sleep is more sacred than shower. You live with spit up in your hair. You also live in yoga pants and ratty t-shirts at times. You don’t care.
You begin to see how very wise and wonderful your own parents are, even if you parent differently than they did. You parent differently than you thought you would. You make mistakes. You worry immensely about them, but do the best you can each day. You learn the hard work of worry and aim towards faith. Arrows of prayer are shot in short bursts
but with a new fervor. Meditation is done with a child attached to you, and you hope the stillness will be shared. Presence is demanded from you, and you are raw with answer. Parenting is holy.
It is holy because it makes you see that God is in all things. Feet. Toes. Knees. Elbows. Puke. Poop. Cries. Laughter. Smiles. Bewilderment. Silence. Sleep. Small, stolen kisses. The look of love for your child in your partner’s eyes. The love in your heart that grows for them. The love that flows freely from your heart and carves away what once may have been hardened with rigidity. The crazy, BIG love.
Or at least I do. You know?