4 Word Sentence + 5 Letter Word That = 6 Letter Word.

Four little words can summon all the guilt in the world when I allow myself to speak them. I'm a work from home mom of a Mary Kay business. This means that I do in fact get breaks when I go to facials, parties, meetings, or training. But lately it doesn't seem to be enough. I get frustrated because I want to eat dinner with two hands.

Mommy needs a break.

Or my heart is racing the whole 35 minute drive home from a girls morning date at Starbucks because my 6 month old is screaming so hard in the back seat that I'm not actually sure her little heart can handle it.

Just breathe, stop crying.

It's 4 am. She napped all evening because RAWR if she didn't. So she was up until midnight. In the back of my mind I really believed going to bed at midnight meant mommy sleeping until 8, because her normal sleep pattern allows me at least a 7 hour "break" at night. But here we are at 2 am, bouncing and swinging. And here we are again at 4, nursing and praying it works, because

Mommy needs to sleep.

But then the outburst is over, and she's sleeping soundly in my arms or playing happily on my lap, and a new thought pops in my head.

Mommy needs to pray.

Because let's face it. For every tear she cries mid tantrum, for every exasperated sigh I release when I hear her cry through the monitor at 2 am, for every tear I shed when we've bounced and swung for 2 hours and all I want to do is go to sleep - there's someone in the world crying too, because they lost their baby. Because they can't get pregnant. Because it just hasn't happened yet and they feel like they're dying a little inside with every Facebook pregnancy announcement.

Without the sleep, the sanity, or the long relaxing showers, there's a trade being made that I am infinitely blessed by. She's not always going to wake up crying for me. One day she's going to sleep until noon and I will be so aggravated that I might even forget I once slept until 3 pm. The day will come when she decides to leave the nest, and on that day I know I'll be wishing back all the moments that I couldn't catch a break.

That's when the guilt hits. All this extra time with my baby that I'm spending aggravated, frustrated, all the other adjectives that mean the same sorts of things.

And so we pray. Me over her, my words straight from the heart, covering her before shooting off to God's ear.

I pray for patience, something I've never had much of.

I pray for understanding, because when she's crying, there is obviously something wrong. And maybe for now that "something" is I want to be held, or I want to stretch my legs; but one day, that "something" is going to be a broken heart, a lost friend, some other problem that in that moment will be as important as the small problems she faces now. I need her to know that Mommy is trying. Mommy wants to understand. Mommy will answer her cries. But to do all that, I need to be aware to look for the problem, and to understand she's not upset for no reason.

I pray in thanks. Before she was born, I prayed for her. While she was in my womb, I prayed for her. God heard my prayers and granted me the desires of my heart, even more abundantly than I could have asked for. When blessings pour down on us, we must send praise back up to Him. Thank you, God, for my home. For my husband. For my cats (even if they do run up and down the hall like a pack of buffalo in the middle of the night). For the heat and lights that make our house warm (even if we cringed while paying the bill). For the food in the pantry (even if it is pretty sparse at the moment!) - the "even if's" are almost as important to keep in mind as the actual blessings, I think.

Guilt isn't necessarily a bad thing. If I didn't feel it, I wouldn't realize there's a silver lining to all of these things. And even though I pray over her nightly as I lay her in her crib the first time, I may not stop to think about how blessed I am to hear that cry through the monitor. Or to be the one who bounces her back to sleep. How could I forget to say Thank You, because my lap is where she wants to be?

What have you felt guilt over? Maybe it's mom related and maybe it's not - it doesn't matter, really! What is it trying to make you aware of? How can you change your way of thought and maybe even how you handle that situation, to make your life a little richer...or to realize how rich it already is?

The Thing They Never Told Me

You're not going to sleep for 18 years. You'll never look the same. Say goodbye to your love life. Now you'll really be out of money. Good luck keeping a clean house now!

All things about parenthood I heard while enduring 10 months carrying precious cargo. But there was a warning no one gave. One I couldn't even vocalize it until a friend of mine asked a week or two into having my darling Caroline home.

She asked,

"What's it like to be a mom?"

What is it like? To know that this tiny person depends on you for everything. To know that for the rest of her life she will look to her daddy and me for security. Comfort. Advice. The list goes on and on. And while they are true, there was one thing that rang truer than the rest, and it was the answer I gave.

"It's like I never knew God until I held her."

I have sang the songs and learned the verses. Jesus loves me. For God so loved the world that He gave His only son. And as I held that tiny baby in my arms, I realized how great a sacrifice that was.

Mary held a slumbering babe in her arms. She faced the same knowledge as I, that he would look to her for security, comfort, advice. That babe was given to her, the son of God. God's son. And He knew that His son would be persecuted and tortured, loved and hated, that he would suffer on the cross and die. My heart aches with the thought. And Mary, oh Mary. To watch her son go through so much. And surely as she saw him under the burden of that cross she remembered the first time she held him in her arms. A tiny bundle, asleep, nestled close to her. What strength she had.

This is also around the time that I stop to wonder if that's where the similarities end. Did Jesus have colic? Gas issues? Because I tell you what, if Mary got through colic and gas without gas drops and gripe water, she must have really been given heavenly strength.

The first few weeks I found myself in tears, frequently. I was overwhelmed. Not with sleep deprivation or disgust over my new "mom pouch," but overwhelmed with love. The love I had for her, for my mom and husband who helped me get through labor, and in pain for the mom's who have had to watch their children suffer. C is only going on 6 months, so she has yet to be lied to or have her heart broken or learned the evils of the world. But the quiver and pout of her lip when she's over tired, over hungry, or just having a bad day is enough to melt me. I would give anything for her to never hurt, but that's impossible.

And who knows, sometimes beauty can come from pain we've endured. Sometimes having to sit by yourself in the cafeteria gives you strength. Being rejected teaches you perseverance. In all things there are lessons, and God promises to turn all things to good for us.

Which brings everything full circle. We are God's children. The same way I hold my baby and want to give her the world, God wants to give us the desires of our hearts. The same way I want all the best for her, He wants for me. The same way I will set rules in place for her safety, He has already given to me.

The thing no one ever told me, is how much clearer I would see God and understand Him in the slow rise and fall of my daughters chest as she sleeps peacefully in my arms, safe and secure and trusting.

Just was we need to be in the arms of our Father.