ROLL WITH THE CHANGES

I am not always accepting of change. When I create it on purpose, it's fine. But I instantly freeze up into shock mode when it jumps up, slaps me in the face, and hollers, “HERE I AM!!”
Maybe I'm busy doing something else. Maybe I'm enjoying being where I am. Maybe I don't want to adjust myself to the new.

I feel 12 years old a lot of the time. I won't lie. When I was a kid I thought that I'd be grown up when I grew up. Sometimes, I am. But, most of the time, I am 12 in a 35 year old body. I throw fits, I cry, and I fight with the inevitable.

I remember when I got the “one day you'll be a woman” talk. I listened politely, while playing with my shoe lace and looking anywhere but in the eyes of the speaker of doom. I said what I was supposed to say...sort of...and skipped along my merry little way, back out to the dirt pile I was playing in. And there alone, making roads and dams out of rocks and sticks, I decided firmly and resolutely that all of that “woman” stuff would NOT happen to me. It sounded like a complete and utter nuisance and hassle. I would be the miracle exception and just not have to deal with anything that made my life that complicated. I still had visions of beating the boys in football at recess and winning every race in P.E. And I did, and I would...until about 5^th grade.

All of a sudden it wasn't acceptable to wrestle the boys during gym class. I remember, vividly, ripping off my earrings, handing them to my teacher, tucking in my shirt, and running over to tackle the nearest “enemy.” I was strong. I also had beginner boobs. I had been trying to ignore them, but other people seemed to keep reminding me. I was overly embarrassed when the teacher called me back to put my earrings in and have another talk about this blasted, “acting like a lady” thing. Adults frustrated my world. 

I cried when it all changed and I had to “grow up.” I really thought that somehow I would be able to skip all of it. Jr. High was the worst and best time of my life. Mostly the worst. Boys that liked me were mean to me. Girls that didn't like me were nice to me...at least to my face. And, the hellish hormones, that make me the woman I am today, took over my life like some parasite eating up all of the good stuff. I was half girl and half lady. I didn't know what to do with what I was given. So I tried to hide it away and pretend that maybe it would all get easier eventually. And it did. I got used to being me. In fact, after realizing that everyone was at the same level of “uncomfortable,” I learned to laugh about the changes.

Now, at 35, when the news of the 4^th baby dawns on me like the breaking of day, and there is no way to slow it down and say, “Well, maybe we'll do that later,” I react about the same way I always have. It's called shock. It's called fear. It's called elation. It's called “Motherhood.” I wasn't a natural right away. This profession kind of had to ease it's way upon my just like everything else. But, none of it would I change. And, my 12 year old self can just buck up, because, for all of the uncomfortable changes that I must go through to make a new Hollon, it is MORE than worth it in the end.

But the reality is hard on a parent. I KNOW that I have to give completely of myself to create this new life. It's all about me and not about me at all. To get we have to give. To create we have to become.

It wasn't as scary the first time I got pregnant. I had no idea what I was in for. The second time I would wake up in the middle of the night and shudder to myself thinking of contractions and labor and wondering how I would get through it. Then I would talk myself down from the proverbial ledge and remind myself that I was strong and that I could make it through anything. When you grow up, you have to be your own Mommy. I also had a trick. I would think of the weakest women I knew and say, "If they can do it, so can I” (I know that's mean but misery loves company of the lesser strength.)

Now I wake up in the middle of the night with insomnia that comes with my body preparing for long nights ahead where I will nurse and mutter, “Shush, shush...you're okay...Mama's gotcha.” It's old hat now. It's not taken for granted, by any means, but it's comfortable and understood. It's also even more of a miracle because I see what becomes after ten years of growth and love, change and tears.

We only get today once. We always only have today. That's it. So if I need to laugh or cry or stomp or dance, I'll do it. Because, that's me today. That's the change having it's way with me. To become a butterfly one must sit still and wait. Waiting doesn't come naturally, it must be practiced. We are always hurrying into the next step. But, when we wait patiently for the change to occur and put ourselves fully into the journey...we get off of our caterpillar bellies and we FLY!!

Life is utterly miraculous. I'm glad I can't stop the changes. I'm glad I don't always get to choose what comes next. Because, at the end of the day, lying in bed and looking at the beautiful faces of my perfect girls and my gorgeous husband, makes me feel like I am right where I am supposed to be.

Besides.....all of this Mommy stuff, by far, surpasses the fun of wresting 5^th grade boys!