Perspective. I can see how my perspective on parenting shifts in response to baby girl's changing needs each day. Oftentimes, something changes and doesn't look how I had planned. For example, consistent naps, a regular bedtime, and sleeping through the night, all seem illusive; particularly, right when I think that I have something 'figured' out.
Yesterday, was one of those days.
Baby girl woke up earlier than usual, ready for the day, cooing and babbling, with words that only she could understand. Bright-eyed and smiling, she fought to get out of her swaddle just after 7:30 a.m. Her left arm, and then her right, emerged from her green apple-print summer swaddle - despite the velcro straps that presumably held her bound most of the night. Her cheeky grin informed me that she was ready to escape the clutches of yet another swaddle, should I try to re-swaddle her and go back to bed.
"Ok, let's start our day," I half-mumbled, as I relinquished my desire to climb in bed and under the covers.
We ate pumpkin waffles together for breakfast. Well, I ate while she watched me from the comfort of her cheerful red monkey chair, rattling and clanking her plastic toys. When she started to fuss, I sang to her and danced around the monkey chair. It made her happy again, and I assumed that it'd be a good day, where I could tackle the laundry, pay bills, or at the very least, tidy up the kitchen a bit.
By 9:30 a.m., Ruby's demeanor became much more tender. She didn't want me to put her down at all, and after a longish nursing session, she wasn't interested in nap time. Prone to tears, Ruby wanted to stay close to me, so I decided we should go for a walk. The fresh summer air would do us some good. Feeling adventurous, I harnessed Penny, our energetic 18-month-old pup, and decided to take her along as well.
Nearing the high '50s, the cool air invigorated me and I sensed my mind relaxing. Lately, I've grappled with bouts of anxiety, triggered by the challenges of parenting a newborn.
A few minutes into our walk, I decided to go straight thru the main thoroughfare instead of looping along the wooded trail. I wanted to walk around the neighborhoods adjacent to the park, opposite our house, and check out the pretty gardens lining the sidewalk.
Suddenly, a woman, most likely in her mid-thirties, approached me from the right. "Excuse me! Excuse me, have you seen a little boy?"
"Um, what did you say?" I quickly replied, unsure if I had heard her correctly.
"I can't find my toddler! He's 3! He ran off, can you please help me look for him?!" Her winded, frantic tone amplified her breathless speech. She seemed increasingly desperate. There was no one else around.
"You must think I'm an awful parent!" she continued, her face wrought with anxiety. "He just ran off and I haven't been able to find him!"
Unsure of how to respond in that moment, I asked for the boy's name and said that I'd love to help. We split up to cover more ground. I half-ran, half-jogged toward the eastern edge of the park, calling for the little boy, peering through the woods and along the bordering sidewalks.
No sign of the boy.
10 minutes passed and the lady of the missing boy met me back at our starting point, the playground. We decided to cover opposite ends of the park and split up yet again. As I sped up my pace - my red and black jogging stroller's maiden run - Ruby's eyes grew big, as if she sensed my mounting fears about how this story would end. Penny happily jogged alongside us, not a care in the world. Deep down, I couldn't shake the lingering uneasiness.
What if this was my baby girl who was lost? How would I feel? What if we can't find this boy - when do I call the police?
Just the other day, I woke up in a panic thinking that I had lost baby Ruby. But she was safe and sound, nestled in her crib, sleeping soundly. It was only a dream. My baby girl's life is so precious. A child's life is so precious. You never want to lose your child.
We curved around overgrown hedges and under towering spruce trees. "Little boy! Little boy! Where are you?" I yelled, as I couldn't recall his name - a name I had never heard before.
The creek. Oh, God, I hope he's not in the creek, I thought to myself, as I ran parallel the water's edge, checking for any sign of a three-year-old.
Still no little boy.
I raced back to my initial point of contact with the mother of the missing boy. Another 20 minutes had passed at this point. She resurfaced shortly after, baby boy in tow.
"A biker picked him up farther down the trail," she smiled, looking both elated and downtrodden at the same time. She continued to say how horrible she felt about the whole experience. "He probably really wanted attention," she said.
"Praise God you found him," I said, and wished her well as we parted ways. In that moment, I wanted to hug this lady that I had only just met. Somehow though, I sensed her incredible guilt over the situation and pulled away, quietly. She wanted space, I reasoned.
In retrospect, I wish that I had hugged her, or at the very least, I wish that I could've responded quicker to her initial comment, which felt more like a question or a bid for affirmation. I would've said, "No, I don't think you're a horrible person. I'm not judging you right now. I'm so sorry that you're going through this awful experience."
Words of grace.
Honestly, this is what I wish I could hear more of, especially on days when I feel like I'm failing as a parent, a wife, a writer, or a small business owner. These are the things I need to remind myself of: I'm not a failure or a horrible person. I'm human, and I'm trying my best.
And by the grace of God, I can get through days when baby girl won't stop crying unless she is attached to me in some fashion. When I need to surrender my expectations for how many house projects I'll accomplish and instead focus on the simple task of feeding and caring for my child. In the end, she is so much more important.
I was reminded of that yesterday. In those 30 minutes, when a little boy went missing and I was there to help look for him, my perspective shifted. One of my worst fears came true for a woman I had just met - the fear of losing one's child, and it helped me to see how truly thankful I am for my own baby girl, and how important it is to live out grace - for myself and others, when things don't go as planned. Or worse, when we lose something precious, if even for a moment.
