Makings of an Iron-mom (Part II)

The 2nd Leg - A 2nd Child

The Second leg of a triathlon (the bike) is where you start to either think "I've got this" or "How am I going to do this?!". In terms of keeping life balanced, I have experienced a whole lot of both. One afternoon last December, I began the 2nd leg of my current IRON-MOM triathlon and we added another piece to the puzzle - a beautiful, miraculous, wonderful piece - but a piece nonetheless, just when I thought I had this scene all figured out. Our first son, our second child.  Here is a glimpse into a few perspectives I have gained the hard way. May these realizations (esp. #3) help your own journey be less rocky.

Each time I have given birth to a precious newborn, one of my first thoughts has been: How on earth did you fit in there?! It continues to blow my mind.

To answer that question, my body has so graciously told me everything I once wondered regarding how that amazing 8lb 13oz boy once fit inside (thank you, pain): the hips that don't rotate without a pop, the back that is still uncomfortable while sleeping, the abs that remain partially severed, the lungs that forgot how to breathe, the joints that feel the residual strain of added weight and imbalance, and the awkwardness of extra skin (and other things) that didn't used to exist. Yes, evidence still lingers that my body has been very much "broken" in order to create new life. I gave up mine for his. I gave it up for his snuggles, his smiles, his calm and happy demeanor blessing our home, his bright eyes, his strength, his love, his future, and all those he will one day lift and inspire. Worth it? Completely.

During the last 7 months of trying to get back to a more fit lifestyle, I have struggled to "fit in", myself - fit in my clothes, fit in my hobbies, fit in my workouts, fit in one-on-one time with my husband and kids, fit in to the personal expectations I have for myself, and fit in my spiritual moments of quiet and pondering that inspire my direction and purpose.

In the 2nd leg you have to have a rhythm. Mine had been completely demolished. It was time to find a new rhythm.  A few crash-and-burns have helped me create life's new cadence (wear a helmet).

Smack in the Face #1: The past is not coming back.

As much as I sometimes think "I want my old body back" (or at least my mind!), the reality is that I don't get it back, and I won't get it back. Life will never be exactly the same as it was before. Ouch. I have had to accept that in order to work with what I do have and improve the things I can still do. I used to fool myself into thinking I would never get older and that I would always be able to do anything I wanted just as spry and springy as ever. My competitive heart has broken at times as I come to grips with chronic pain, injury, and lack of flexibility. Reality has taught me that ice, stretches, and strengthening exercises are now the most important part of my current routine, even more than the workout itself! I am now a different person to some extent, with new passions and opportunities as I strive to play to my strengths, while still working on the weaknesses. Perhaps I can be better at what I do now than I ever was at what I did then.

My reality. Life hurts, but it's worth the pain to live it well.

Having two children now keeps my hands full (literally) and my lack of a certain cloning superpower sometimes makes me wish for those peace-any-time-I-want days to return or at least the days when I heard only one screaming voice demanding my attention. At least then I could think semi-straight. I don't have Inspector Gadget arms that can change a diaper in one room while simultaneously feeding a "starving" child in the other. The inability to be in two places at once, calm two sets of tears at once, feed two mouths at once, or put two sets of little clothes on at once (or even keep them both on!) makes the days of old sound dreamy.

And then I see it...

...my son, still an infant, gives me a look that could tell a thousand mysteries if he could speak. The unspoken words carry not to my ears, but to my heart, and I know - I am living the dream right now. I am in fact already doing more for my kids, myself, society, and the world than any other thing I could possibly be doing. The sacrifice is both real and rewarding. I am raising up leaders. I am teaching integrity and accountability. I am passing on knowledge and wisdom. I am fostering faith. I am instilling kindness and compassion. I am living and breathing hope and light into the lives of two individuals in a way that no one else can or ever will. Poopy diapers today - persistence and patience tomorrow.  My love will turn these bottles and binkies into brilliance and benevolence, messes and mayhem into miracles and masterpieces.  I am training the champions of tomorrow.

This is no easy thing. They don't call it endurance for nothing. But trying to live in your old self, or continuing to long for past circumstances is like trying to fit a puzzle piece in the wrong place, time and time again - pushing and twisting and demanding that it belong there. We all do it. It never works. Once you come to grips with that reality and accept other outcomes, you can realize that where it does belong is far better than where you had first envisioned; the opportunity before you is far greater than what was behind you.

Sucker Punch #2: If I want to grow, I cannot stay in my Comfort Zone.

I hate mornings. The sound of the alarm always begins one of my most difficult daily struggles. I swear I just fell asleep (if I ever slept at all). And we all know once the kids are awake, all chaos begins. So despite my detest for standing on two feet after a long night with a sweet little one and the neighbor's obnoxious howling dog, I cannot deny the power of early mornings. Not some imaginary hope for extra energy, I mean real, pure, enduring power. Darn - I wish I could say that sleeping in and eating cookies all day was the key to health and happiness because that is what my natural human instincts want me to do... sorry folks.

Recently I went for a beautiful sunrise bike ride on country roads through green pastures and rolling hills, alongside a lake that reflected the pastel sky above, with mountains gracing the background. Nature's beauty = power. The wind whispered  inspiring thoughts to my mind that became my own. Even the beat of my pedaling cadence seemed to align my worries into a rhythm of peace and calm. That was power. Upon returning home, I turned to the Creator in prayer and the study of his words through scripture, giving me further understanding of who I am and how I can access strength beyond my own. That was power.  So imagine, it's only 7am, I've already pumped through a workout, my body feels strong, my mind is clear and full of positive thoughts, I feel closer to God, my confidence is on the ups, and I've even taken a shower with no interruptions or audience (such a rare occasion with a cute and curious toddler around)!  Now how could this not turn out a good day? What could break me? Even if something goes "wrong", the difference is, I don't care! I'm sure my family appreciates it, too, as these early mornings seem to turn an "every little thing bugs me" attitude into "every little thing is wonderful" gratitude. I sacrificed for peace, and now I can answer with peace. I gave up the physical comfort for mental confidence and spiritual control that carries me through the day.

I am still working on this particular area, but I have never once regretted utilizing any morning to set the tone of my day. Early to rise, or whatever it be, we have to face the truth: It's time to get uncomfortable. 

Blow to the Blindside #3: I cannot control everything, nor should I.

 A 2 year old breaks her arm falling off a chair. Someone rings the doorbell right in the middle of nap time who I want to curse and give a piece of my mind (it just happens to be the Sheriff). A baby gets stuck in the corner of his crib and wails for help when I think he is merely protesting my absence. I finally have a minute to run an errand on my own and the place I need to go is unexpectedly closed when I get there. A toddler throws a toy that strikes her little brother in the head. It's too hot (or cold) to go out and play. Someone turns the oven up to 450 degrees when I'm not looking and chars the last batch of cookies (I'll give you one guess...). A baby gets hit solidly by a stray basketball during a game, despite my efforts to dive to save him - I feel guilty as he screams in pain. Another night of little sleep and plenty to do the next day. An infant has to be taken to the emergency room when Daddy is out of town. A friend passes away too young. A child is in serious pain, and a mother is in tears, not knowing how to calm him. 

There are some things we cannot control. Furthermore, there are things we weren't meant to control. That is hard to accept sometimes. You can't blame yourself for every little thing that goes wrong or every choice others make or every misfortune that comes your way. As cliche as it sounds, all we can do is the very best we can, and have faith that the rest is under far better control than our own. I have learned and relearned this principle during this 2nd leg. 

So stop being angry with yourself for events you cannot change. Stop placing the weight of guilt on your own shoulders for things you cannot or should not control. Only then can you truly find meaning. Only then can you be fully encompassed by peace. Sometimes you have to let go in order to move forward. Sometimes those things we can't control become our greatest blessings. They teach us to take advantage of the opportunities we do have the power to act upon.  

 Life is a series of pedaling uphill and coasting down, births and deaths of different sorts, new chapters and old memories.  In this journey of new beginnings and sacrifices, we find these pieces to our puzzle, shaped to add fulfillment to our souls and magnitude to our life's mission. While still reverencing the life we have thus created, we can set our focus on new possibilities, new heights and depths that were previously unimaginable. We can find our new rhythm. Sometimes it's hard. Sometimes it hurts. Always, it's worth it.

We're all on a "2nd Leg" somewhere. Pedal hard. We've got this.