"The first 40 years are the hardest."

My mother reminds me often that her father, my grandfather, says frequently that "The first 40 years are the hardest." Because being a parent is never easy.

"She's not sleeping!" I sobbed at my daughter's 6 week appointment. I believe she was, in fact, sleeping at that moment. But that was just the problem. She would sleep until the moment I lay down. And then? Her weird baby ESP would kick in and she'd wake up, not to be coaxed back to sleep no matter what I did. "Just make it to 3 months," her doctor said, "then she'll be more ready for sleep training, or coaxing, or nudging into some sort of routine." OK, I thought. 3 months. I can do that. So we hung in there, and I tried to nap. Sometimes. I wanted to be a part of the world, too.

The 3 month mark came and went. She was more ready. So was I. Things settled in. She started going to bed earlier, and sleeping for longer than an hour, although naps were still short. Once in a while I could get away with staying up until - gasp! - 9 or 9:30.

Then I went back to work, and felt the weight of exactly how little sleep I was really getting. By noon, I was wiped! But, as I read more mommy blogs and did more bizarre Google searches ("does pumping make you more tired than just nursing?" "can babies be immune to the effects of Tylenol?"), I read things that led me to believe that the 6-month mark is a turning point. I just needed to make it to Spring Break, her 6-month birthday, and the start of solids. OK. I can do that. So I hung in there, and tried to find a balance between teacher me, mommy me, and wife me. Oh yeah, and taking care of myself.

Let me tell you, there was no balance. Just a constant struggle between the four. A constant competition. If I was a good mommy one day, my students and husband suffered. If I came through for my students and had good lessons, I felt like I missed the short time with my daughter between my arrival home and her bedtime, and after bed was spent working, not being with my husband. With whom, in the time since I went back to work, I have had a total of 2 dates. Two. As far as self care, I'm lucky if I run once a week... Not helpful if I want to run a half marathon in 4 months.

The 6-month mark has recently come and gone. Spring Break was not as restful as I wanted it to be, but was far easier than working and mommying. I went back to work this week, and my students have been great. My colleagues are great. Olivia has even (dare I say it to the universe?) been sleeping a bit better. But I'm absolutely wiped. I go home each day feeling like I've been hit by a truck, I have a terrible attitude, and I feel like I could sleep for days. I wake up at the absolute last minute in the mornings, with barely enough time to take care of myself, let alone feed Olivia and get her taken care of before I leave for work.

I was thinking to myself this evening, as I drove home from our church's Maundy Thursday service, I sound like a broken record. I can't help it. I'm an honest person. And people go through the motions of conversation: "Hi," "Hello." "How are you?" ...My response? I simply can't say "Oh, I'm good, how are you?" if I'm not good. Granted, I don't unload on the occasional passer-by with what is really going on: I'm beyond exhausted, I feel like I'm barely scraping by in all aspects of my life, and I am ashamed that it's so hard for me because I know that other people have it waaaaay harder than me. But I do admit to people, when they ask me, "How are you?" that I'm not good. I say things like, "I'm OK." or "I'm here." or, "I'm getting by."

I wasn't always like this. "Good, how are you?" was my default. Because I was good. I was happy. Well rested. I exercised often. I ate well. I had leisure time.

But then I had this baby. This amazing, beautiful, heartbreakingly lovely baby. She melts my heart every day. Every moment. She is the new center of my universe. And I mean that. I wanted to be a mother my entire life. For Pete's sake, I was a "Fairty-Princess-Mommy" for Halloween 4 years in a row as a child. I L-O-V-E Love being a mom. But I now find myself in a difficult dichotomy. I love my new self, but long for my old self. I want to go on dates, to movies, concerts. But the thought of missing bedtime when this time is so short tugs at my hearstrings. Also, and possibly TMI, it makes my boobs hurt real bad. The point is, I feel like I'm between 2 worlds. That of mommy, and that of "the old me."

But as I already said, we were at a service for Maundy Thursday tonight. That has always been a special service for me, because the focus is on serving others. As a teacher, I'm a public servant. But on a deeper level than that, I've always seen myself as contributing to the community. That is where I see my value. So teaching is not just my job. It's a part of who I am. Jesus served those he loved, and the message tonight, and every Maundy Thursday, is that by making Himself a servant, he showed love to those who needed it. I serve those I love by teaching. I love my students and their families. And I try to serve them as best I can.

But what really spoke to my tonight, what made me tear up, was a ritual we have weekly on Sundays: We sing the words to the presentation of the alms: "All things come of thee, O Lord, and of Thine own have we given thee. Amen." It's one of the things we've not changed across the course of my life at my church. The tune, obviously the words,; nothing has changed. And tonight, that message touched my heart. God gave us this little one because we asked for it. And now, we are charged with caring for her, whatever that means. I watched as Brad+ washed her tiny feet, and I watched as she listened to Bingham+ do the children's story with enthusiasm and attention. She is a child of God, literally and figuratively. And God blessed us with the challenge of raising her. So we rise to it, even when it is hard.

All things come of Thee, O Lord, and of Thine own have we given Thee. I have to remember that God will never give me anything I can't handle. Even if it's so. damn. hard. I can do it. And ultimately, I want to do it. I need to do it. I can thank God for the blessings we have, and try to make my default "Good, thanks, how are you?" again. I can get there. I don't have to be there right now. But I will get back to that. I have a blessed life. I will eventually be able to express that daily. Good, thanks, how are you? Hopefully earlier than 40 years from now. Day by day. Moment by moment. Amen.