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A young mother consults with a doctor over the...

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“I’m glad we chose to hospitalise your girls as if we’d left this till the weekend, it could have been fatal.” These are not words that any parent plans to hear.

When I woke up that morning I knew my twins had been battling fevers of 39oC for the past few days, the doctor had instructed us on how to manage the fevers and ensure they kept eating something and how to kept their liquid intake up. I had been trapped at home with sick children for 5 days and had my Tuesday all planned – we needed food and my foster child’s social worker had insisted on us going to visit so I had every minute from 6am planned. Besides the one twin had been perfectly fine the day before, running around with the boys and fighting with her sister we knew she was on the mend.

All that changed when I went to see why she wasn’t out of bed yet. There she sat angelically paging through a book. “Come on girly, it’s up time.” I playfully scooped her up and plopped her on the floor, only to see to my horror her legs collapse under her. Thinking she was playing I stood her up again. Instantly my entire being drained of all feeling, empty with shock and fear I watched her try hold her body on wobbly legs that kept wanting to buckle. Once she managed to slightly walk she hobbled with knees bend holding herself up on furniture.

From there the day spiralled downwards, yes we still managed to get some food in the house and the forms signed with the social worker but by lunch time we were in a paediatricians rooms trying to decide what to do with the girls. As typical as life is by this time she was walking fine and the other’s fever had dropped. The paediatrician had one bed booked in the hospital, should he try find another for the other twin? Maybe they should go home and wait it out? Eventually fearing it may lead to meningitis he decided to treat them in hospital.

Even then the day seemed to be chaotically normal – everything just flowed, nothing seemed to seriously wrong, we were just being precautious. Besides the girls were smiling. Eventually the girls had had blood samples taken and were on drips. By 9pm dad and the kids had come and gone and I was desperate to sleep. Sleep didn’t however begin to hover till 11pm.

At 11:30pm I was being woken by the nurse to say a doctor needed to see me.  There sat the paediatrician, at midnight – wanting to speak with me. He had charts of numbers, long words and a thick file in front of him. My girls had only been here a few hours.  Suddenly I was very alone, very small and very empty. Not much made sense at that hour but I did hear that the virus had attacked their bone marrow, their white blood count was low, there was something wrong with their livers and that had we waited till the weekend they may have died.  That was not something I’d planned to hear on this average Tuesday.

Heading back to my sleeper couch bed, sleep eluded me for most of the night. Imagine. Imagine, imagine….. no, I wasn’t thinking that my girls may never have learned to read or that they may never have known about the world wars or that they may never have been able to recite the parts of an insects body or that they would never have had the opportunity to work out an algebraic problem. Imagine, imagine…  they had never had the chance to climb a mountain, or see a baby bird in a nest, we had never been able to look at another flower together again or dance crazy around the lounge, imagine we were never able to share another picnic tea reading poetry or they had never had the chance to snuggle on my lap to listen to just one more story. We would never again have run down a sand dune together, eyes shut, arms out flying into the unknown.

Small, alone and empty I lay there.  By God’s grace my special girls have been given another chance. Another chance to be alive. Another chance to truly live. So, no, Monday won’t see us “doing school” we’ll be baking heart shaped biscuits, take out their glass tea set and then read poetry whilst sitting in the garden watching the butterflies dance and listening to the birds share their song.


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If we stop and take a look at what being Mommy is really all about and what financial payment we receive we should conclude that it’s totally ludicrous for us to keep this post.

However day in and day out we keep Mommying. Why when everything gets too tough, we haven’t slept in weeks, the demands keep getting higher and there is no sign of a break do we not just throw in the towel or just leaves? What is it that makes us stay and not throw in the towel as we would with any other job?

I’ve given this a great deal of thought and no I don’t have the perfect answer but I have a few thoughts.

The one being the idea of running as a hobby. I tried it once it and although I can never truly understand why people keep doing it – the feeling of exhilaration and accomplishment of finishing well at the race end does make it all worth while. So I believe it is with being Mommy – we know deep down that if we just keep at it we’ll eventually finish well.

I daily watch my own little girls play baby with their toy rabbits and dolls as well as how they naturally nurture each other and any one slightly younger than them. This is not something they have only learned but rather something they were born with. Just as every human is born with a God shaped hole that only Christ can fill so girls are born with a Mommying hole. Society sometimes talks girls out of this role or maybe some are naturally more nurturing than others but as them to look deep inside and they will admit they too desire to be apart of a relationship committed to marriage and raising the next generation.

So even though the going can get tough we seem supremely programmed to love and nurture these little bundles.

Finally I’ve also found that I can never do this alone but need to rely on my heavenly father and his wisdom to deal with all that Mommying requires of me. As I daily lean on him and his guidance I know that he would never throw the towel in with me and walk away. He daily puts up with my humanness and still loves me – for no payment what so ever. Knowing this – even though it is often really hard – how could I ever give my children any less than my all?

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Having been Mom for 8 years now I seem to have hit a hump. Where exactly are we going with this parenting thing? It is so easy to get caught up in the here and now and focus on a specific moment that we in fact miss what is really happening in that moment and then in essence lose focus of the whole point. Over the last while I’ve been so caught up in “me.” What I want from life, trying to build my business and add my family and motherhood on afterwards. For many reasons this is not working. Today I realised that with all my “good intentions” I had inadvertently put mothering, God, being a good wife and home maker aside and simply replaced it with rush, activity after activity and a life of striving. For this reason I started this blog. To begin to memo those reasons, thoughts and insights into exactly why I love Being Mom and to keep my focus on what is really, eternally important rather than the temporal business.

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