FINDING JOY After the Hard

Written by Jamie Johnson

Iremember coming home from the hospital eight years ago with a crying newborn baby boy named Henry and absolutely no idea what I was doing. I was experiencing my first few days of sleep deprivation and recovering from a c-section. Henry had his days and nights mixed up and I lived on the couch, alternating between feeding him and doing loads and loads of laundry. I thought that was the hardest it could get.

When Henry was 3, I found out I was pregnant with Simon. I was working full-time, and my husband was working full-time and coaching high school baseball. I remember chasing my filthy 3-year-old around the baseball field at nine months pregnant. My feet were so swollen I could barely fit shoes on them. I was still exhausted, ready to pop, and on the verge of losing it. I thought that was the hardest it could get.

Simon was born and I had just started my maternity leave when Henry started preschool. I was new at being a mom to a newborn and a toddler and sleep deprivation had reached a new level. I got Henry ready for his first day of school while holding a crying Simon. It was my 34th birthday. I wrangled the kids in the car and went to drop Henry off. He cried as I handed him over to his teacher and was calling for me as I left. I spent the next 30 minutes crying in the car, along with my newborn, in remember having to leave the office to go pick up the boys and take them to the doctor. Later, my husband and I had to put eye drops in four pink eyeballs. If you have ever had to put eye drops in the eyes of a toddler or newborn, you will understand why I thought in the moment that was the hardest it could get. the parking lot of Peace Lutheran. I thought that was the hardest it could get.

I went back to work after eight weeks of maternity leave. On the Thursday of my first week back, I was in a meeting with some co-workers when I received a text message from the sitter. Both boys had pink eye. I

The baby finally learned how to sleep through the night, even though it took about three years longer than we thought it would. I have learned to cope with the fact that I will never feel like a “real” adult and might spend forever wondering who allowed me to start making important decisions. And it took about a week, but Henry finally stopped crying when I dropped him off to preschool.

Year after year, I experience something new that makes me think this is for sure the hardest it can get. And year after year, I make it through the hard season and experience the joy that lives on the other side. Even if that joy is just that the hard season has passed. OP