Muse: A picture's worth

Media often makes motherhood seem so glamorous.

The glossy pages of magazines, for example, feature celebrity (and non-celebrity) mothers nursing their babies with such poise. Elegant, sexy, strong, graceful and smiling like they haven't got a care in the world.

Well, perhaps they don't.

A picture of me nursing my baby at home wouldn't be quite so glamorous. Or airbrushed.

There would be sweat upon my brow and perhaps sweat running down my cleavage. I would be wincing and struggling to latch my impatient baby onto her food source - pacifying her when she tries to drink and poop at the same time and finds that hard to manage. And my clothes - dear me - don't even start me describing them - old, shapeless and ratty things, for comfort's sake. (I am so going to burn those lumpy nursing brassieres when I stop milking for good!) Uncombed and tangled up hair - if it is the first feed of the day - or a few feeds more...

Now that I am pumping exclusively and feeding my baby bottled breast-milk, my picture would feature an Avent bottle, supposedly the most innovative and advanced in its design compared to other brands of bottles - and an inquisitive baby trying to grab my thumb, the one nearest to her nose... or twisting her head to peer across the room while sucking at the teat... or crying for reasons unknown.

Inevitably, there would be unwashed bottles in the background waiting to be washed whenever I find the time; loads of laundry to do; challenges in my marriage and the same ratty clothes and uncombed hair. Sweat and stuff, what have you.

There might even be poo stains down a leg. Like this morning. And some other mornings past, when Sophie's diapers were volcanic. And erupted.

Of course, there are easier days. Much easier ones. But not all are easy days. 

I'd like to think that I am not the only mother in the world who looks like this in her picture.

Unglamorous and tiring as motherhood (and fatherhood) can be, it offers the most sacramental moments when we keep ourselves aware that God meets us, mothers (and fathers)... and reveals Himself to us even in the most humbling of circumstances, times and places. For me personally, I have not known before, God's love and grace, as much as I have ever since Sophie made me a mother.

I am not going to lie to you. While I'd love to paint you a rosy picture of my experience as a mother and give you the idea that I always have everything in order, I can't. I admire those mothers who can. It isn't all nice and easy for me being a mother - and although people say that it only gets better, I am not quite inclined to think so (call me a pessimist if you like), because every stage has its unique challenges to overcome. I might miss the poo stains when the time comes for me to face the demanding, moody and rebellious teenager that I was. The last three months have also certainly given me a taste of how lonely motherhood can be.

But I do love being a mother.

I do love being Sophie's mom.

Not just because there are so many joys worth celebrating as our little princess grows from strength to strength... and the sweet, treasured little things that I hope I would never grow to take for granted. Not just because I love to feel wanted, needed and oh so important to that baby human being. But because motherhood convinces me more than ever that Jesus Christ who died for the sins of the world is risen and alive.

As the Holy Spirit empowered Jesus on Earth to "...soar on wings like that of an eagle, run and not grow weary, walk and not faint" - all the way to the cross - He empowers me to do the same as I commit myself to broken nights, pump routines, poopy diapers and countless other demands of loving our daughter. He brings me to appreciate the Father's unfailing love for me and Christ's irrevocable work on the cross.... as well as to know God.

Perhaps, by realising that motherhood could offer such beautiful, sacramental moments, our pictures may feel different. Sublime in fact. With Christ, motherhood might still be unglamorous - but upon that unglamorous backdrop, an irresistible, tangible light shines and draws its beholder nearer to the invisible God present in each picture. With Christ, a mother may be lonely, but yet be most fulfilled, identifying with His sufferings, and comforted by His company, word and promises. 

After all, it is a picture of Heaven meeting Earth. One which captures the overlap between the present on linear time and eternity. Simply because Jesus Christ has come, died, is risen and will come again.

A picture worth one's constant delighting over.

And so, if you, dear reader, happen to be contemplating motherhood... why not? :)

Note: this is my second week of taking care of Sophie on my own - and I am beginning to savour it despite the daily trials.