I Think I've Become a Grown-Up

Well, it's official. I'm a mom. It was definitely a transition to no longer just be known as Jana Watson three and a half years ago when I married my husband David. In addition to being the daughter of Janet and Warren Watson, I became Jana Villanueva, or another way of saying it, "David's wife." But in addition to that mega life change, nine weeks ago I became Jana Watson Villanueva, the mother of Blake Marshall Villanueva. And by Joe, I think I've become a grown-up.

I wasn't ready to have a baby. Pregnancy took me off guard completely. It wasn't my plan, and I didn't welcome the reality of it readily. I wanted to be happy. Pregnancy is a gift from God; I know that, but I had so many things I wanted to do first. The gift of new life was acknowledged by my soul, but the timing was premature according to my mind and heart, and I don't think I really came to terms with it all until several weeks after that new life arrived. That was just my experience, in the raw.

While pregnant, I deeply missed freely participating in the things that I believed identified me, like playing soccer, riding my bike, running long distances, and pursuing a career in medicine. I thrive on being independent and spontaneous. I love coffee and chocolate and have always firmly believed that the intake of both, especially at the same time, can cure any bad day. And I really, really appreciate the migraine drug Imitrex, for without it, I would have a very difficult time enjoying my life. Pregnancy interfered with all the things I loved and held dear. First, I realized that week-long migraines were just going to have to be accepted since I couldn't take Imitrex while pregnant. In fact, I celebrated my positive pregnancy test by laying on the couch in extreme pain for several days with a migraine I had no way of treating.

Strike One.

Then I had to face the reality that the Physician Assistant School I had worked so hard to get acceptance to was no longer going to be my destination in the fall. No, instead I would be eight months pregnant wobbling around peeing every half hour feeling miserable. So many questions ran through my mind as the admission department told me the best they could offer was a year's deferral. Would I be able to go to PA school with a one year old while David was still tied down by medical school? That seemed absurdly difficult. What would I do for child care--all we have is loan money! I began to feel like it was God's idea of a practical joke to gift me with the ability to understand science and create in me a passion for medicine only to ask me to bury it in the sand.

Strike Two.

Next, I had to say goodbye to the marathon and century I was training for with my husband. I kept running for most of my pregnancy, even though it hurt every step by the end, and I was going so slow it was really a classified shuffle. But it was the century race that was the hardest. The day David signed up without me was crushing, and I don't think I could have explained the depth of disappointment I was feeling inside to anyone. I felt so limited. So trapped. I slowly lost the permission to play soccer as the months went on. By the third trimester, I couldn't even walk over a couple miles because I was in so much pain.

Strike Three. How many strikes are there until you're OUT?! Too many loses to mourn all at once.

I could write all day about the hardships I faced emotionally while growing baby Blake inside of me. It took me almost six months just to embrace the fact that this was God's plan for this season of my life. Then I began to fear the future. I feared childbirth, I feared parenthood, and most of all, I feared losing myself in the mom role. I have seen too many women get completely lost in caring for their children. And, I wasn't ready to give up my independence. I like being able to go on spontaneous dates with my husband. I like going out for a run or ride whenever I feel like it or hitting up a coffee shop to journal or chat with a friend. I cherish hot showers, reading books, road trips, going out to eat every once in a while, and going on exploratory hikes. And I am very comfortable with being a student. I like having time to myself to study and master material and then to be tested on that material and get a score that quantifies my efforts and helps me be satisfied with my work. I love all these things, and I was no ready to give them up. It made me cry to think about it.

This is just the honest truth. And if God has taught me anything over the past few years it's been to be honest with him and others about my life and what goes on in my heart. It's the only way to grow and it's the surest way for God to receive glory as he brings good out of my messiness. I had a friend tell me that I should not complain about being pregnant and be grateful out of respect for all the women who try to get pregnant but can't. I remember feeling like forcing myself to feel like that was no more helpful than for me to always clean my plate because there are starving children in Africa. I want to be grateful. But I want to be authentically grateful, and I believe that the Spirit of God within me is powerful enough to handle my struggles, and He can take my ingratitude and change my heart over time and enable me to choose thankfulness by His strength and grace. Then who gets the glory? Me, for being so good at guilting myself into telling people I feel grateful for something that inside really sucks? Or God, for working inside of my heart to change my attitude to be like His? You get the picture.

So now, nine weeks postpartum, I think I've become a grown-up. And by that I mean I've surrendered to the death of self that God is asking of me in order to care for my baby during this season of my life. I've matured into motherhood, not quite as gracefully as I would have liked, but the transition is occurring slowly but surely, and I can say I am finally grateful to be Jana Watson Villanueva, David's wife and Blake's mom. I am learning that my identity is not wrapped up in the athletics, the academics, or in the things I can and cannot do or eat. Nor is my identity defined by my relationship to my parents, husband or child. Who I am is  unswervingly and eternally rooted in the way I uniquely display the image of God. No one else can live my story. It was written by God especially for me, and the glory He brings to himself through my failures and sufferings is what my journey on this earth is about. The things he teaches me about himself, myself, and others is what makes life worth living.

I can laugh at myself now as I seemingly have "new mom" plastered across my forehead as I easily go a full week without a shower, get excited when I can check off one item per day from my to-do list, and carry a diaper bag and breast pads wherever I go. However, I am being refined by my Maker in the process. In the midst of having to let go of my independence, spontaneity, and sense of control over the details in my life, I am finding a form of freedom I did not expect. I am gradually setting perfectionism aside (cause who has the time or sanity for that?) and letting the grace of God reign. The depression that darkens the door of my soul so often and the anxieties that war against my mind day in and day out are not going to paralyze me forever. I am learning to take my anxious thoughts to the God of my life who can be trusted, even when I'm in pain or experience loss.

As a new mom, I feel constantly exhausted and weak, overwhelmed and inadequate. I feel like I can do nothing in my own strength...and this is such a God-glorifying place to be! I can rest in His ability to work in my life, whether or not I can successfully breastfeed my child for a year, become a medical professional, or run 26.2 miles. I am humbled by how much self-denial and hard work caring for a baby can be, and I am in awe of all the moms who care for their children day in and day out because they love them. I respect and appreciate my own mom more as well as I experience the sacrifice it takes have the responsibility to care for another human being. A lot of the things that used to matter so much and seem so big and so important now seem so insignificant and small. And as it goes with all hard things in the life of a Christian, God is using it all for good to make me more like Him and to prepare me for whatever next season my life holds. He's the author, of the good chapters and the hard.

Well, I'm a mom. I'm a grown-up. I accept it, and I trust that it'll keep getting better with time.

A Symphony of Blase

I’m not sure that I could feel more blasé. I’ve been sick for a week with strep and some sinus viral ninja that refuses to let me return to normalcy, no matter how much I try. But really, the last 3 weeks as a whole have felt so melancholic, and I can’t seem to pinpoint why. I do miss David, who is definitely preoccupied with studying for the infamous Boards exam, and I completely understand that. But I still miss him. We are celebrating our three year anniversary this week; it’s strange how such amazing gifts and undeserved blessings can become familiar and common. Marriage is like that. David is the love of my life, a man I desired to have and hold for three years during college without much hope of it ever becoming a reality, and now, I’m celebrating 3 yrs as his wife, and it feels surprisingly ordinary. I have an amazing husband who loves me and cares for me daily. It’s just a testament to how we were made for a greater romance, the one with the true Bridegroom. I long for Him, and I long for the way things were meant to be, not just in the world around me, but in my own internal world. Don’t we all?

The thing is, generally I can peg my dissatisfaction on something not going right in my life or on something that I don’t have, that if only I obtained it, I would be happy. But right now, in this season of my life, if I’m honest with myself, God has not withheld any blessing from me. I’m pregnant with a seemingly healthy little baby boy, I have the best husband in the world, a loving family and family-in-law, lots of great friends here and abroad, my material needs are all met, and I’m healthy (besides the temporary bug I’m fighting)…the list could go on and on. I’m so blessed on every side. But I still feel sad or empty or lacking in some way. Why are the greatest moments of life on this earth still devoid of enough-ness?

I’m getting older day by day, and the beauty of my youth is fading before I ever fully saw the beauty I hoped I’d see in myself and enjoyed it. Life goes on just as it always has since the beginning of time, cycle upon cycle of life and death, joys and sorrows, pain and relief. We all go to such great lengths to just feel like everything is okay, or that at least it will be really soon. For me, I know that one day, everything will be okay. I have that hope in Christ,the vision and longing for the new heaven and earth that God has promised to those who are his children, which is what I am by grace alone and no merit in myself. But why don’t I go out and proclaim this truth to the world daily with great joy! Why do I instead retreat to a blanket and a cup of tea or spending time with people who are easy and make me feel at home with myself? Why after encountering the love of the King of Glory do I still err on selfishness more times than not? How long oh Lord will you wait to make it all right?

I get chills when I read the words of God that offer promises of things like “restoration,” “new wine,” “redemption,” and “new life.” I know deep down that when I look forward to little things like the next fun event, fulfilling accomplishment, encouraging accolade, material purchase, hot meal, life change, new start, crazy adventure, or time with people I love, I’m really just finding the motivation to keep walking this lonely journey through earth. But each of those motivational moments passes by and fades, leaving me empty again wanting more. It’s only the words of God that help me care about this life and what it means.

I’m so messed up. So inconsistent. And hypocritical. Stubborn. Great at and willing to justify my actions and quick to judge the actions of others. I self-protect & manipulate. I’m like a wave tossed by the wind at times; I am often the man who looks in the mirror and then forgets his reflection as soon as he walks away. Am I being too hard on myself? Never. These things are true about me. They are my vices, and that's not all of them, folks. I know that I know my sin better than anyone, and that’s only because the Holy Spirit refuses to let me walk around with a big head in complete ignorance of who I am apart from Christ.

But I am so glad that God knows all of this about me and chooses to show me patience, grace, and love all because of my hero and life source, Jesus Christ. My greatest joy, hope, and motivation in this life is this: “Set your hope fully on the grace to be given you when Jesus Christ is revealed,” in 1 Peter 1:13. My whole hope for happiness, satisfaction, and acceptance is in standing before God one day and saying, “I have nothing to say but I deserve anything you see as just. But one thing I have done, and even this only by divine aid: my hope is set on the extension of your grace to me by the blood of Christ, which is able to powerfully purify all my wretchedness.”

Isn’t this the beauty of the Gospel? That even though I know God’s Word and have grown up into Christ for almost two decades, I am still a sinful creature concerned much with creature comforts and the pleasures of this world, yet God will finish his work in me. This is how he receives the most glory, I do believe, on the Day of the Lord. I will stand before the Bridegroom pure, white, without blemish, and glowing with righteousness, and I will be worthy of marrying Love himself. This is an indescribable miracle. As I struggle through the dailies in this life, and I sigh in front of the mirror as I use cosmetics to cover the acne scars and blemishes, bathe in the warmth of showering waters to cleanse myself of the filth from the day before, and try to make myself presentable enough for the world to bear…I look ahead to the day when I will glow with the beauty of Christ flawlessly without putting forth any effort at all. Thinking of that day is enough to push through today—all the messiness of life, the meloncholy that not even Starbucks can cure, the shattered dreams, the confusion and chaos or misunderstanding others and being misunderstood, all the sickness and loss, the suffering and shame, the having to live with one’s self before a holy God who sees all things…it’s manageable only because of Jesus, Immanuel, God with us.

Thank you, Jesus. Thank you for hope, the very food that energizes the soul and helps us press on to the finish line where we will meet you face to face. "Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! In his great mercy, he has given us new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead. We are birthed into an inheritance that can never perish, spoil of fade, kept in heaven for us. Through faith we are shielded by God's power until the coming of salvation is revealed in the last days. In this we greatly rejoice, though now for a little while we suffer grief in all kinds of trials." 1 Peter 1: 3-6

Take courage, friend, and be strong in the loving grace of our Savior Christ the King. Life's hard. Everyone's is. But you're gonna make it.