Dear Fellow Mama, God Will Give You More Than You Can Handle

I know that our secret is safe with him. He’s not telling anyone, not unless his limited vocabulary of “Train!”, “Fish!”, and “Snack!” can somehow relay the message. I’m pretty sure we are safe. And so I find myself here and there bending down to whisper into his toddler ear, “You’re going to be a big brother!” He giggles and runs off to play. At the same time God is whispering into my own heart, “You’re going to be a mama again.” His words need time to soften the edges of my heart against this shock.

I had guessed this one wrong before. And timing said this shouldn’t be possible. But I had a feeling. For nine tests, most within the window of time that they should have given me a solid answer—they all read “No”. But that last one remained in the drawer. And every Mama knows that when there’s a suspicion, those tests cannot remain unused. So I took test number ten, really just to assure my heart that I was indeed crazy, and that life was not about to change in a very big way. I brushed my teeth, set to getting ready for the day, and let that test sit on the counter doing its thing. But then I glanced down and my heart shot into my throat. “Yes+”.

“This is ok, right?” I asked with shaking voice as I held up the test for my husband to see. I sank to the floor, knees weak. “Of course it is.” He assured me. Or tried.

Of course it is. That was seven weeks ago. And now my belly is rounding out with this new life carving out its space within. And the past seven weeks have been filled with that question, “This is ok, right God? We can do this?” And His sovereign, patient answer of “Of course it is.

Are you asking the same question today? Whether you are braving sleepless nights with your first newborn, or belly swollen with a second, third, maybe fourth baby on the way—perhaps you find yourself in this same arena of doubt that I’m in. It’s too much. I’m not enough.

And I’m too tired.

This week as I was waiting for my husband and our second son outside of the restroom at the aquarium, our youngest son was running wild. He ran into the restroom yelling, I called him back. He ran back out yelling even louder and jumped onto my leg. I waddled away with him grasping my leg like a monkey, riding atop my foot. A woman tapped my shoulder, “Hang in their Mama, I’ve got two of them!” She must not have noticed my six-year-old standing nearby. And she couldn’t have known of my four-year-old in the restroom. And my 11-week baby bump was hidden within my sweater. I wanted to laugh and thank her, then kindly let her know I have four. I didn’t. Because the truth is, no matter the number of children we have—they are more than we can handle.

When God gave me this new baby, He gave me too much. He also gave me too much when He gave us our third son. Our second son was too much for me also. Our first son? I was completly insufficient for him, too.


Eryn Lynum
Eryn Lynumhttp://erynlynum.com/
Eryn Lynum is author of the book 936 Pennies: Discovering the Joy of Intentional Parenting. She lives in Northern Colorado with her husband and three boys, where they spend their time hiking, camping, and exploring the Rocky Mountains. She loves to travel and share at conferences, churches, and writers’ groups. But every opportunity she gets, she is out exploring God’s creation with her family, and sharing the journey at www.936Pennies.com.

Related Posts

Comments

Recent Stories