This kind of post is not one that my mom typically enjoys me writing because I think emotionally it's difficult for her to read as a grandparent (so, Mom, you can stop reading if you want, but I think you should stick it out.) However, I find that when we are able to share even the broken and ugly parts about ourselves and how we're being formed through them, it makes us real to other people, lets them know that they're not alone if they're sharing a similar struggle, and brings God glory in the redemption.
I was overjoyed when I find out I was expecting a girl back in late 2007. After Tim shot down the name Adalynne and I shot down the name Iris, we quickly settled on Eleanor Lee, giving her the first name of his maternal grandmother and the middle name came from my paternal grandmother's middle name. I remember late in the pregnancy when they started telling me I was showing signs of pre-eclampsia (which, thankfully, never actually happened), I would have to go in for Non-Stress Tests and occasional ultrasounds to check development of lungs, etc. During one of these ultrasounds, they captured the most beautiful picture of her. She had these full lips, we called them her Angelina Jolie lips, and little wisps of hair that you could see kind of breezing in the amniotic fluid. It made me even more excited to meet her.
I remember writing this blog post, dealing with a concern that was so opposite from all the moms I heard around me: not how can I love another child as much as my first, but what if I love my second child MORE than my first because we're of the same gender and I can relate to her? Imagine my surprise when life hit.
After a difficult labor and delivery, resulting in a spinal headache from an epidural gone wrong, this beautiful bundle made her entrance.
I'm not going to lie, the first 7 years have been rough. Something just didn't click between us. I think a lot of it goes back to me having to spend the first week of her life flat on my back, helpless. We brought her home on a Monday afternoon and were back in the hospital first thing Tuesday morning to find out why I kept having this pain, headache, passing out. Tim and I spent that day in a darkened hospital room with him holding Ellie, passing her to me when she needed to nurse, and then taking her back so I wouldn't drop her. As I was having my blood patch done, I could hear her screaming in another room, wanting to eat and have me not be available to meet her need. I think Tim finally relented and accepted a bottle of formula to give her some kind of nourishment. I was even more frustrated later that day, when, finally feeling good enough to bend down and pick something up, I knocked the patch off and there was nothing more to do but let it heal on its own while chugging cherry coke to lessen the headache and resting my head on frozen bags of peas and corn.
I am a detailed and structured person. While I enjoy times of spontaneity, I also like schedules and knowing what to expect when. I do not like surprises.
Ellie is a free spirit. Carefree and artistic, she does not like being tied down. It has taken me a LONG time to appreciate this about her because it is opposite of my nature. We have spent the past 7+ years butting heads, yelling at each other, me apologizing to her again and again and again and again. I have received countless lectures from my mom on needing to back off, watching the words I speak about Ellie, and figuring out how to love her.
Then something shifted recently. I mean, within the past 3 weeks. I went away to a conference in Orlando and since I came back, things have been different with her. I have been more patient and have tried to connect with her in her world. She has respected when I really do just need a break and the opportunity to sit down by myself after spending a morning teaching them. Her hugs are tighter and more often. She cuddles up next to me in church with her head against my arm. She has broken me down in a good way. She is shattering a hard exterior that has probably sub-consciously been built up when I was just trying to survive post-partum.
Sometimes you think life is going to go a certain way and it doesn't. Relationships turn out different than you think they're going to, even in the mother-daughter world. Your perfect dream doesn't look quite as you imagined it, so then it's up to you to shift to the reality if you want to make it work. I could continue to fight to make Ellie who I think she should be instead of appreciating how God made her. Honestly, though. I am tired of breaking her spirit and I'm ashamed of it.
We're on a path forward to healing and renewal and I wouldn't trade it for the world.
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