Monday, May 28, 2012


No one could have prepared me for the level of doubt I have encountered the closer I have gotten to parenthood.

The tears.  The fear.

The "Oh my goodness what if the child spikes a fever and I don't have a thermometer and that whole rectal temperature just sounds gross and cruel and how on earth do you potty train boys and what if I get a drug addicted baby that never stops crying and I go back to the crazy-eyed intense insomnia Abigail that forgets everything and fights a constant bad mood that existed in college and I can't keep up and I just end up being really bad at what everyone has always said I'll be really good at and then what and can I really do this, just me and God and a whole lot of caffeine" monologue that starts up right around the time I close my eyes to sleep at night.

I have doubts that I can do this alone.  I have doubts that I will be the kind of parent that I've always envisioned.  That I'll let stress get to me.  Or my house will be a hot mess.  Or I won't have the answers to their questions.  I won't know how to guide them, to show them how to love Jesus and love others.

I have doubts. I have fears.

But they're normal, right?  This is a big deal.  I'm becoming a parent.  To broken kids.  From broken families.

And somehow, through the strength that I can only assume that God will give me, I'll parent and I'll do everything I can to help bring restoration for those kids and their families.

No comments:

Post a Comment