I admit it. Changing poopie diapers was NOT always something I loved to do. No, it's true... really ;) In fact, when my twins were potty trained 20+ years ago, I may have been happy to never deal with a diaper of any sort, ever again. Then my infant godson moved in with us. Then I did daycare. Then I did daycare for twins. Twins whose mom used cloth diapers... Then I stopped doing daycare.... LOL.
10 years after my twins were potty trained, I was blessed to have my daughter, Hannah. More diapers. I didn't "mind", but I didn't "love", you know. THE DIAPERS!!! The diapers, of course. I LOVED Hannah with all my heart.
Then came daycare again. LOTS of daycare, and LOTS of diapers. Then came Caleb. Then came Rebekah. You could say my life has been a LONG line of poopie diapers.
So, what inspired me to "love" poopie diapers?
Now, this is NOT a 'fishing for sympathy' post. Believe me. I know lots of people have been through much more tragedy in their lives. I'm not trying to belittle experiencing a miscarriage. A part of me will always mourn my little baby. But I know that many others have been through that, and much more. And I know I have been blessed beyond my dreams.
This is a 'counting my blessings' post.
You see, the day I went home from the hospital, in a fog of grief and dismay, I came home to all the kids. Kids who needed their mama. And among those kids was my 11 month old baby, Rebekah. I held her soooo close. She had already "kept me together" through the illness and loss of my mom. Now, she was my comfort once again.
Then "it" happened. sniff... sniff... Is that a poopie diaper? Yep. Of course. That is what babies do, right?
You might think changing a diaper would be a low point in that already gloomy day. But it was a gift. I'd go as far as to say that poopie diaper changed me more than I changed it.
As I tended to my darling baby's basic need, and freshened up her bottom, a floodgate opened. Realizing I would never be able to care for my miscarried baby, toddler, pre-teen, teen, young adult... in any way, made me appreciate every detail of mothering my other children. Knowing what it feels like to not be able to perform basic... mundane tasks puts them in a different light.
To this day (4 years later), I smile every time I change a poopie diaper. Each and every time, I am reminded of just how blessed I am to have this precious little one to care for.
My life may not be glamorous, and my daily duties may seem purposeless at times. But they aren't. Each one counts. Each one contributes to our home, and my family's wellfare.
I will keep counting my blessing.... One "poopie diaper" at a time.
Just a sidenote:
Thought my "Sacred Sunday" post would be a nice time to share this...
My husband, Mike, is a church musician. Each week, the diocese of Fall River, MA records the weekly mass for all of the folks who are unable to attend church because of illness or disability. This week, Mike's pastor celebrated mass, and so Mike played the music. The kids and I watched this morning.
Jake was playing on the floor, when all of a sudden, he heard Daddy's voice. He turned on a dime and made a bee-line for the TV. (or is it a B-line???)
Anyhoo.... He stood there, at the TV, caressing daddy's arm, waving, and doing a lot of dancing. Not sure if Daddy picked "Give Me Jesus" because it's one of Jake's favorite bedtime songs, but he sure seemed to appreciate it none the less :)
I love how much he loves his daddy...
Feel free to count your blessings along with me, and share in the comments if you'd like :)