Just Another Jenn

On my commute, I glance at the clouds. They are lined up, with the sun behind them, looking like lighted rails. As though some cosmic train could come barreling down them, whistle blowing, at any moment. As this pregnancy enters it’s third and final stage, I find myself caught up in moments like this. Where all is still and calm and I am lost in thought. Other times, most of the time, I am doing the opposite of cloud gazing. I am the train, barreling down, whistle blowing. SWIM LESSONS! LUNCHES PACKED! DRY CLEANING! SCHOOL SUPPLIES! I SAID GO TO BED NOW-STOP ARGUING-EAT YOUR CARROTS!

Life as a mother and wife can eat you alive. There is always something to do, someone for whom to do it. Glimpses of clarity, the girl you once were - flip flops and pig tails - come out of nowhere and leave you stunned. How did I get here? I never thought the last words before my love and I fell asleep would be, “make sure you get the dry cleaning tomorrow” and “did you set the coffee machine for 6:15?” I don’t know when the transformation occurred, it seems like yesterday I was driving too fast in my Volkswagen, No Doubt blaring on the radio, with a Big Gulp of Diet Coke perched perilously between my legs as I reached to shift to 5th gear.

Now, I wear cardigans. I keep extra sweaters in my car in case the weather changes. I drive a car with three rows and I think to myself, I need to switch the clothes in the washer over to the dryer before I go to bed so that they don’t smell like mildew, while I am applying anti-aging moisturizer. My best days now are not filled with Big Gulps, rock bands and tanning beds. They are spent chasing my kids around a swing set, hearing Joshua say “I cozy you Mama” and grasping my husbands hand in church, turning our fingers over to see that after all these years it still feels the same.

Somewhere between 2 hours of pushing, midnight feedings and mortgages, I grew up. As we prepare to open our hearts and lives to another child, I will admit I am a little scared of loosing a bit more of the pig tailed girl who drives too fast. I am more scared however, of looking back twenty years from now and missing the 30 something woman who knew what it felt like to soothe a two year old Joshie in the middle of the night, walk a 5 year old Isaac to his first day of kindergarten and feel the subtle movement of a precious child in my swollen belly.

It is so easy to look back and say “what if” about our lives and experiences. I want to know that I am here, in this moment for a reason, for a season of time. While I am here, I will collect every memory of my young children and hold it tight for this too,  much like the transmission on that old Volkswagen, will eventually become a memory.