I'm not meaning to be rude here, but you've all seen them- the moms (or sometimes even dads) who only ever post pictures or statuses about their kids on Facebook and Instagram. Often, their children are genuinely cute or funny, but I still find myself wondering, "Who are they apart from their children? Do they even know the answer to that question?" Being a parent is unbelievably important and valuable. I just hope that my role as a mom doesn't completely change my primary existence as a person.
In the 2+ years that we have tried to start a family, I have had plenty of time to observe what other people are like as they start theirs. Had I gotten pregnant right away, I probably would have been one of those moms who slowly and often unknowingly let her world revolve around her child. Maybe I'll still be like that to some degree. I do remember the recent pain, though, of reading a pregnancy announcement, seeing 1,200 ultrasound pictures, and then watching five billion shots of babies appear on my NewsFeed, often from the same few people. I know that they only want to share their happiness with others, but these were and are the people who lead me to click the "unsubscribe" button because their lives have become their children.
I had an amazing childhood. Our home study case worker has asked us both so many questions about our lives growing up at home, and I can't help but reflect on how very blessed I was. The reason? I always knew that my parents loved me to the moon and back, but even more, they loved their Lord and they loved each other. For a span of several years during my childhood, I would ask my parents who they loved more- me or the other parent. If it was my mom, she would always say, "I love your Daddy the very most. But you're not far behind." My dad would give a similar answer. I used to hate those answers because (surprise!) I wanted to be number one to everyone. Looking back on all of that now, I wouldn't have had it any other way. My parents were unbelievable parents because they never forgot their first love.
Another thing that I appreciate about my parents is that their lives never stopped when they had my brother and me. Their lives changed, yes, but they never stopped (and I wouldn't have wanted that). If Mom and Dad were going to hang out with friends, by golly, Tim and I were going, too. When we were babies/toddlers, Mom and Dad would bring the Pack N' Play and put us to bed at the friends' house. As we got older, we brought bags of toys and books with us and learned how to entertain ourselves. Never once did I think that my parents were being selfish. Only lately, though, have I realized that they were being good. Allowing us to be the center of their universe would have built up a sense of entitlement in us and set us up for failure in future relationships. Loving God and each other first made my parents love us better.
At the end of the day, I want to remember that I am and always have been more than a mother, although that role cannot be understated. The love that I already have for our child is overwhelming, and I can't wait to be Mary Rachel the Mom. But for the rest of my life, I hope to also still be the Mary Rachel who I have been until now: the wife, the daughter, the sister, the runner, the friend, the teacher, the writer, and the girl who loves country music, sprint car races, and good books. I hope that Andrew is still the husband, son, friend, brother, OU fan, hard worker, and lover of Raising Cane's, sports, and board games that he always has been. And I pray that we are still that goofy couple who cries together, laughs together, prays together, and loves being together- in spite of not "having it all together."
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