I am not superwoman. I don’t have superpowers. I am not invincible.
Oftentimes I am reminded of this…
…Like when I try and take on way too much at a time. I try and be everything to everybody. I try and be the quintessential hostess, wife, and mother, all at the same time. In those moments, I remember that I am not superwoman.
…Like when I wake up in the morning (this morning was case-in-point) and I am still exhausted, because my 3-month old was up at 12:30pm, 1:30am, 4:30am, 5:30am, and 7:00am. In those moments, I remember that I am not superwoman.
…Like when I listen to people tell stories of when they were kids and the kid in their school who had Down syndrome was picked on. And then I bawl like a baby, holding my little miracle (who happens to have Down syndrome), as I realize that I will never be able to protect him from everything. I will not be able to shelter him forever. I will have to equip him to occasionally be slapped in the face by a cruel world. In those moments, I remember that I am not superwoman.
But you know what? Sometimes I do feel like superwoman…
…Like when Jake hurts himself, starts crying hysterically, and immediately turns to me for comfort. And as soon as I pick him up and hug him tightly, his crying subsides and the pain is gone. In that moment, to my son, I am superwoman.
…Like at the end of each day, when Jake is really tired and often grumpy, and I get him ready for bed, give him a bottle, and sing to him as I rock him back and forth. And he falls asleep on my shoulder, his little tiny hand grasping onto my hair as he drifts off. In that moment, to my son, I am superwoman.
…Like when Jake is feeling sick, and is a little more clingy than usual. And I read him stories, stroke his hair, hug him tightly, and shower my love, attention, and affection on him a little more than usual. In that moment, to my son, I am superwoman.
So I’m not superwoman. Big deal. In the eyes of my baby boy, I am.