Letters From Me, To You: The Fairytale of the SAHM

Hi.

I had this moment yesterday.

I had just snuggled and rocked with my baby until she fell asleep, and I was on my way to put her in the crib, when I looked down at her.

This is like a fairytale.

It's no surprise to anyone that motherhood isn't always glamorous. Some women do a pretty good job of making it look that way on Instagram, but I think deep down we know that's not what their behind-the-scenes reel looks like, right?

I mean, last week Jered made a comment about me "not exactly wearing my best lately." When I stopped to think about that, I realized that I hadn't touched jeans in about a week. In fact, I basically live in gym shorts and tank tops now, and, if I'm honest, the previous night's pajamas.

[Or, on occasion, something covered in spit up... or worse.]

I go days without wearing makeup sometimes (which is really saying something, guys- I am not an au naturel girl.), and my hair has seen far more than a fair share of messy top knots in the last few weeks. (Although I'd like to remove myself from blame in that case and pass it on to my conditioner that won't allow me to comb my hair after showers.)

Anyway. I'm guessing that any stay-at-home-mom is lying if they say that they never question their worth. So much value is put into careers now that it is easy to wonder, "What am I doing with my life?"

And I've seen and heard the messages about how being a mom is the most important job, but I don't think that stops us from thinking about the value in changing another diaper, or doing dishes for the seventh time that day, or shaking rattles for an obscene amount of time to keep someone from crying- especially when you think about the women who manage to do this and have a career.

BUT.

Last night, I held a contented baby and rocked, while she inspected my hands with her own, and we listened to an audio book together.

And just before writing this, I rocked that baby as she leaned her head against my cheek and held my hand, with no noise except the sound of the fish tank and the thunder outside, until the pacifier fell from her mouth, and I placed her in the crib.

It's like I'm living in a fairytale.

It's not just in the moments when she's sleeping. I think it's more noticeable in the quiet, but I also feel like I might explode with joy when I get her to laugh, or when she gives me her bashful smile, or when she happily squeals as we play airplane.

Sometimes it's hard to feel like I didn't just waste a day because I didn't "accomplish" anything.

Sometimes I feel like I failed as a wife because I didn't have a meal prepared or the apartment is messier than it was that morning.

But in those sleepy moments, I'm reminded of how lucky I am to be here with her, and that it's ok to just soak that up from time to time. And maybe, just maybe this time isn't so much for her as it is for me. Let's face it, she would be just fine in a daycare or with a babysitter. She's not going to have a memory of her time at home with me for at least a few years.

I heard and loved this phrase recently: babies don't keep.

So true, right?

I guess, all that being said, the conclusion I've come to is that being a stay-at-home mom is a gift. A deeply personal, mental, and spiritual gift. It gives me blessed time with my daughter, the ability to focus on what is important in our family, and it's teaching me more about God. I don't want to feel guilty or inadequate for accepting that gift because then I won't take full advantage of it.

Let me show you how my fairytale has looked over the last few weeks: