Gaining Weight: How being a mom has changed me from the outside-in

You know the drill.  The nurse calls your name and they insist on torture before treasure, the sound of the weigh-in before the sound of the heartbeat.  Then it’s the feeling in the pit of your stomach when she informs you of how many pounds you’ve gained, which is considerably more than you should have during the entire course of your pregnancy, much less with weeks left to go.  And your heart sinks to the floor because once again you’ve gained too much. 

Gaining weight.  Becoming a mom changed my physical body from stretch marks to flab to endless gray hairs, and we moms know all too well our bodies will never be the same.  What I was not prepared for however was all the other arenas in which I would gain weight when I became a mother.  Maybe you can relate.

The weight of a rope. 

Before I was a mom, I could do what I wanted when I wanted.  I was not tied down.  Having to cope with the reality even still that my children limit ways I can serve demands a constant humbling in my heart to accept this sacrifice as more than worthwhile.

The weight of a mirror. 

Why is it that becoming a mom makes all our uglies shift from being closet dust-bunnies to front door unwelcome mats as they stare us down daily through the eyes of the very beings we helped create?  It is like my bad habits and personality dysfunctions suddenly became a pimple on my forehead for me to notice every time I look in the mirror of my little girl’s questioning eyes.

The weight of the world. 

Too many questions.  What if I don’t teach them enough?  What if I really screw them up, or worse yet, turn them into a miniature me?  What if I take my eagle eye off long enough for something tragic to happen?  What if it all goes south and I don’t get to spend eternity with them?  What if, what if, what if?????  Before I became a mom, I thought I could answer most any question.  Now I can hardly answer what day of the week it is and what the weather will be as I fix breakfast, oversee wardrobe disasters, assist with chores (feeding the animals-but somehow I never get fed.  Hmm. . . maybe I should grow whiskers and develop a snarling bark.  Oh wait, my kids already think I have J), and nag, nag, nag to hurry so they won’t miss the bus.

The weight of me. 

I have become very overloaded trying to remember who needs a lunch packed and when, who’s practice starts at which time, whose turn is it to have a friend over.  As I work tirelessly each day to keep track of them, I’ve lost track of me.  The always-smiling, drive-down-the-dirt-road-with-windows-down-and-music-blaring, never-know-what-special-surprise-I’m-drummin’-up-for-the-love-of-my-life girl got lost somewhere between the diapers and the school bus.  The stress swallowed the smile.

And it all continued to weigh me down more and more and more . . .

Until I found a personal trainer.

 His name is Jesus.  And in His grueling weight-loss plan, He actually has one simple benchmark.  “Come to me, all of you who are weary and carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.  Take my yoke upon you.  Let me teach you, because I am humble and gentle at heart, and you will find rest for your souls.  For my yoke is easy to bear, and the burden I give you is light.”  Matthew 11:28-30 

He promises to help me lose all that weight I’ve gained since I became a mom, all the weight I’ll continue to gain in motherhood, and all the weight I’ll ever gain in this mess called life.  All I have to do is place it in His hands.

My oldest was playing with some marbles the other day and jokingly said, “Mom, I think you lost some of your marbles.”  I laughed and said, “You’re right.  It’s called being a mom.”  Motherhood has changed me tremendously as I have lost tons of weighted marbles in that dirt at the foot of the cross, not necessarily by eager submission, but because eventually there was no way I could benchpress it on my own.  Through it all, I’ve learned gaining weight and grays draws me closer to my Jesus, who lightens my burden and puts the pep back in my step.    This, this is how being a mom has changed me most.  In the midst of a dirty, messy house full of whiney kids and a demanding husband, I have hope.  I know the weight of this world is here today and gone tomorrow, ‘cause one of these days I’m gonna lose all this but gain much more.  For to live IS Christ and to die IS gain. 

Heart sinking to the floor because you’ve gained too much?  Trade in your weights for wisdom, knowing your heart can soar to the sky because you have indeed gained too much.