Waiting and waiting.

credit: lights of mine photography

After a couple attempts of posting some thoughts, I again reminded myself that I should just post for the heck of it. Sometimes I forget that no one really knows about this blog, and it’s not being judged by English literature scholars. So here goes. Again. Five months later (my goodness.)

Well, nothing’s really changed much. Still living with my husband’s parents, still a stay-at-home mom with a side job and still waiting. Waiting, waiting, waiting. Waiting to move out, waiting to have the money to move out and waiting for hubby’s projects to succeed all the way to the paychecks making their presence. And it might seem foolish at times, all of this waiting, but we wait because there is nothing else to do. All we can do is wait.

When we wait, we start to think a lot. Sometimes we think too much. We are in danger of wasting time, thinking in fear. Which is exactly what my hubby and I did. For the past five months, we thought and we talked. Many times we thought good things and talked with hope, reminding each other what God had promised us for our future and how we should approach the present. When one of us started complaining about our circumstance, the other one was firm and encouraging. But there were several times we were both in despair, exhausted from fighting for faith and just about finished with holding onto hope. I started thinking we were always going to be poor, living with hubby’s parents, and we just had to accept it. I really had no problem with that (except maybe we could get a small apartment of our own…) Maybe I needed to get another job. Maybe we were holding onto values and standards too high for us. It’s expensive to be a stay-at-home mom and it’s risky to start your own business. There were times I would find myself looking for other jobs and applying without even consulting my husband.

So I finally asked God, “Are we supposed to be poor? Are we wasting time, trying to build a new business? Tell us, and we’ll stop. I’m tired of waiting. It’s been over 7 years, and we are ready to give up.”

God responded quickly, “You will succeed in everything you’re working on. Just keep going. I promise it will all pay off.” It was loud and clear. One of those moments you knew it was God and it wasn’t you.

That week, my husband came home from work, discouraged (sadly, a common situation for us) and said, “What I need is faith. I need faith.” The next day, I was listening to music on iTunes radio, and a random section of Graham Cooke’s teachings came up. It was about how to obtain faith. Funny.

And of course, for the next two weeks, there was promise after promise, proven by opportunity after opportunity with new partners and new clients. Hubby’s business was going well and my business was going way better than what I was working for. There were hiccups along the way, moments that brought both of us to despair, but the random surprises of opportunity encouraged us to keep hoping (I’m sure you entrepreneurs can relate!)

Like I mentioned in the beginning, nothing’s really changed. I can’t end this post with a resolved, happy ending. We are happy (most of the time), but nothing’s really finished or resolved. Our bank accounts look the same (or worse) and we still don’t have our own home. We are still waiting. However, we wait with anticipation. Or so we choose to anticipate. We went through the times of despair already. I’m quite tired of that, and so is my husband. It’s exhausting to hold onto faith, but it’s deadly to lose hope. I watch so many people around me choose the safe route – the job that they are okay with, not excited about, the major that promises a good paycheck, not necessarily what helps fulfill their dreams and constantly talking about what is financially stable, rather than asking God what His will is for them – and I watch them slowly let go of joy, excitement, rest and intimacy with God. They are all still amazing, kind and loving people, but they are no longer completely them. It’s sad.

As my husband and I watch these people give up their dreams and desires, we are motivated more than ever to pursue God’s ultimate purpose for us. We are reminded that a steady paycheck does not ensure happiness. Of course, we are hoping for that someday, but we refuse to go the “easy” route (in the end, we believe the route we chose is much easier). When we choose to obey God and to chase our dreams, we are much happier. The painful moments of despair become a fun memory, reminding us where we came from, and the times of success are so sweet, the trials are simply a stepping stone.

So we wait. We will continue to wait. And as we wait, we choose to prepare for the future. We won’t just dream of what it would be like to be able to pay rent, we’ll plan on how to spend our money, who to give it to and how we will give it. Which makes me think this time of waiting is more than necessary. When else will we have the time to mature and plan these things? It scares me to think we would spend our money foolishly.

If you are in similar shoes (none are the same!), please, continue to dream! Watching others around me, the ones who are pursuing God, relentlessly, living their dreams, whether it still be in progress or towards the end, are MUCH happier than those who walk the safe and nice road. There is light at the end of the tunnel. Also, when else will we have memories of God providing food when we didn’t have money for groceries? In the future, this will all be too sweet to forget.

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Chung-choon

One of my favorite movies is Julie and Julia, with Meryl Streep and Amy Adams, also two of my favorite actresses. If you haven’t yet seen the film, I highly recommend it – if anything, for the food. Amy Adams definitely inspired me to make endless bruschetta when my husband and I were dating (it looks SO good when she makes it.)

Well, among the many wonderful scenes that spoke to me, there was one in particular that got stuck in the back of my mind. It’s when the character, Julie, has her 30th birthday. The exact lines are, “I’m 30. I thought it was gonna be terrible, but thanks to you, and thanks to Julia, it feels like I’m gonna get through.”

I remember thinking, “What’s so terrible about turning 30?” I was in college then, in my early 20’s. I thought 30 was a beautiful age – I imagined myself with my husband and children, fulfilling my dream to change the world, however it was going to be.

So here I am, 2 years away from turning 30, and those lines Julie spoke have been playing in my head. You see, I’ve been questioning myself, or more so evaluating myself, if I am happy with my husband and baby and fulfilling my dream.

There’s a Korean word that is similar to the meaning of “youth”: chung-choon. Loosely translated, it means those in their 20’s (or 30’s now – we seem to mature slower these days) who have no limitations, able to achieve whatever they put their minds to – they can dream big and actually fulfill those dreams.

Right now is considered my chung-choon. I’m reaching my so-called deadline of some life goals, and I am forced to make some decisions for myself and my family. Many of you are probably on the same boat. I am called to make a difference in this strange world, to have passion and zeal for change. I also have a husband to support and a baby to take care of. They require much of my attention, and I love it. But I know I need to do both. Have I done it?

To be honest, I haven’t. As most of you have read, mothering my baby is a no-brainer. I will do whatever it takes to raise my child to be the best he can be. Supporting my husband in his dreams, showing him the love and affection he needs and deserves is a must. It’s not always easy, due to my own issues at times, but it is somewhat natural and so much fun. But having passion and zeal to fulfill my dreams of changing the world? No. I adjusted to the comfortable lifestyle of worrying about money, paying the bills and only talking about how the world needs to change.

Ugh. I never thought I’d become that person who so frustrated me in the past. But I have. I accept it. Which is why I am writing this today. I choose to change. I still want to see the brokenness of so many women out there, healed. I still want to build a school that gives kids in the inner cities an opportunity to become the leaders they are meant to be.

I know I’ve been working towards my vision here and there. This blog is proof of that. But I want to reach the end goal, and that requires more effort than I’ve been putting in.

My encouragement to you: remember that passion. You don’t have to be in your 20’s to be in your chung-choon. You choose to be in your chung-choon. Don’t fall into the cycle of making enough money to be happy with you and your family. That happiness will only last so long. There is joy in persevering, enduring and pushing for a dream.

Our “30’s” doesn’t have to be terrible! It can be the most wonderful season of our lives, if we so choose to allow it to be. Whether you’re 18 or 55, you choose to change. And if you have the power to change yourself – humans are the most stubborn – then you definitely have the power to change the world around you. Totally possible.

GRACE – remember

So…I pulled my neck and shoulder muscles this morning. Ouch. It wouldn’t have been a huge problem if I didn’t have to carry heavy things all day, but it was. My 23 pound baby was not going to get in and out of his crib alone. I was in a bit of a pickle.

Thankfully, my mother-in-law is well learned in medicine (shout out to all of you medical assistant out there!), and my husband is a former football player (shout out to all of you former football players! Teehee), so they gave me all of the advice they had to help me feel better. I didn’t listen all the way (it was a long list!), but what I did listen to, totally helped. I was able to lift the babes and hold him. It required yelps of pain, but it was done!

Due to the pain I had all day (still needing support from my beloved pillows as I write), I had to refrain from most activity, like playing with the babes. Sitting up straight and watching him was the best I could do. As I sat on my chair, I thought to myself, “I wonder if God’s going to keep him entertained, playing alone.” And of course, the child had a blast playing with his toys for hours. I actually got a little bored and started playing with my phone.

While distracting myself from pain and boredom (I love watching my child play – it’s a delight, don’t get my wrong, but 3 hours is a LONG time), I came across a video of Denzel Washington giving a commencement speech to some university graduates (Facebook. You come across some of the most random videos.) I have it here so you can watch it, and it’s mostly about God. But what really hit home to me was his emphasis on GRACE.

Grace, in my opinion, is misunderstood by many in many different ways. We won’t get into a discussion about those different ways, but I do want to share the importance of remembering the times I’ve received grace. I hope I always remember today, when God kept Elam entertained for hours, not needing my intervention. He knew what both Elam and I needed. There have been countless times in the past (some embarrassing) when I needed grace – from God and from people. And it was given to me.

I need to remember where I came from. I need to remember I REQUIRE grace to survive, and NEED it to thrive (I’m a poet!)

You might ask why this is such a big deal. I think it’s a HUGE deal because it’s a key to happiness. It’s simple: remembering the moments I needed grace and being thankful for it gives me rest. It gives me true joy. It makes life worth it – and so much more fun and simple. As I remember grace, I step into grace, predicting grace in my future. It’s such a secure, settling feeling.

So I hope you receive the grace you need in this season, awesome reader! Without it, life is just way too hard. Once you receive grace, make sure to remember that moment, and give that grace to someone else! They need it!

Alrighty…here’s the clip of Mr.Denzel Washington (I am also a total fan!) if you’re so interested. Happy watching!

Pretty Skin

Here’s a before & after from someone using our REVERSE regimen with our AMP MD Roller.

Quick announcement! I’ve started a new business with the same doctors who created Proactiv. They have a bunch of different awesome products, but their most basic and essential ones are the four different regimens you can choose from: anti-age, brown spots, acne (I like it much better than Proactiv-doesn’t dry your skin out!) and sensitive skin. Let me make sure to say, you are beautiful. Your beauty is defined by who you are. But just like we need to exercise and eat right, we need to take care of our skin – you too, male person! So I figured I should let you all know about this fun opportunity I jumped on. I use this stuff myself, and it’s done wonders on my skin! Clinically proven, yo!

If you do decide to try it, let me know first (comment!), and I will give you a discount. Whoopee!

Here’s my website: http://www.psjhenson.myrandf.com

Okay, back to contemplating on what I want to write about next…

Revisiting Memories: first-time-mom syndrome

When Elam, the best baby in the world, was just born 🙂 ( No, I am not biased 😉 )

I don’t know if I can define what I’m about to share as “memories”, so we shall see as I write. But I can confidently say I am no longer afraid to look back, nor am I afraid to experience it all over again. I’d rather not, but if the reward is the same, then I am willing to re-walk that path.

That “path”, ladies and possible gentlemen, is the path of postpartum. Before I got pregnant, I had never heard of the word postpartum, neither have I ever heard of baby blues or postpartum depression. So when my friend who had her baby two months before me told me about it, I was a bit deaf to the ear concerning the issue. “You should really pray through it before you have the baby, Priscilla,” were her words. I foolishly dismissed them, assuming it wouldn’t happen to me because I felt like I dealt with so many of my anxiety problems I had in the past. I did pray here and there, lightly, asking God to protect me, but I didn’t think I could ever be a victim of depression, anxiety or panic attacks…

Well, I had the baby. The most beautiful baby I had ever seen, touched or held. Despite the drugs running through my veins and the extreme abdominal pain from the C-section, I knew my baby was gorgeous. I ignored the fact that I didn’t feel totally connected to him or that I didn’t get a sense of overwhelming love. I knew I loved this baby, so I just went with the flow – fed him, held him and kissed him lots and lots (hubby had to change his diapers because I couldn’t stand yet – best hubby award!) But after three days of no sleep (26 hours of painful labor and then having a baby is not ideal. But all moms do it!), reality hit. The drugs from the surgery were slowly being flushed out of my system (I had to be put under because I could feel the pain of the scalpel going through my stomach…I know, TMI…), and the sleep deprivation and hormonal changes attacked me with my first ever panic attack.

If you’ve never had a panic attack, I pray you never do. The only escape feels like death – you feel trapped until the time passes. And I couldn’t die. I had a baby to take care of! We begged the nurse to let us out of the hospital early (why don’t they have an outdoor patio for patients to go out to? It seriously feels like a jail cell in there), and thank God, she did. We are forever grateful for you, Alma.

We left the hospital like fugitives on the loose and finally arrived home. I thought the horrific journey was now over. Back to my normal self. But I didn’t realize I was still sleep deprived, in a ton of pain and hormonal. So it came again – right around 7pm. And it came the next day. And the next day. And the next. For three weeks. Couldn’t sleep. I forgot what it was like to feel tired. I was just anxious all day, all night. The baby was amazing – good sleeper, only cried when hungry and smiled all the time. Couldn’t enjoy it. I tried – I really tried. But those panic attacks had taken over my life. Not to mention, nursing was…well, like hell. No one told me how hard it would be in the beginning.

What was worse was I knew this was ridiculous. I knew this would pass. But I couldn’t get over it. When the attack came, I froze. I couldn’t breathe and I couldn’t do anything else. My husband, the sweetest man on earth, confronted me saying, “I know how hard it is, but you need to overcome. You have a baby to take care of. And you have me. Our relationship cannot fall apart because of this.” He was right. I knew he was right. But I still couldn’t get over it.

Well, when the third week arrived, I was exhausted. Physically, emotionally, mentally EXHAUSTED. I wanted to know what it was like to sleep four hours straight. And no, this wasn’t because the baby wasn’t sleeping. I had people helping with that. It was because I had issues. Those darn issues we all have. I guess I was finally desperate enough to give up on sleep and just pray. I let the frustration go. If I wasn’t going to sleep, I wasn’t going to sleep – I accepted it. And that was when I felt like God said, “This season will end at the end of this week.”

Sure enough, it did! The day after the last day, I waited for 7 o’clock. I remembered what God had said, and I wanted to see if I heard right. And can I just say, God is good! He was right! It stopped. No more panic attacks!

In the end, my husband and I concluded that it wasn’t really emotional, it was physical. I was overly sleep deprived and hormonal. It also wasn’t uncommon among new moms. These things happen to the least expecting. I actually had it easy. Some moms go into deep depression. I actually understand why some moms are tempted to leave their baby. Of course, it’s not okay, but if they don’t have the emotional support they need, that temporary depression can cause much confusion.

And now that I am free, I am able to enjoy my cute little baby. And side note: it took a couple of weeks, but I finally felt connected to the baby. C-section moms, you might know what I mean. I’m also able to love on my husband, something that was always very easy for me to do before the baby came. It’s easy again – hallelujah. I still have to remind myself that my husband comes before the baby, but it gets easier every day.

Why do I share this story? Because this is real. So many women go through this, but not enough people talk about it! I don’t want this to scare you, future moms, I want it to encourage you. Hopefully you don’t go through any of this (many moms don’t!), but if you do, you know it will pass. You know you’ll get through it. And you’ll come out so much stronger and so much wiser.

You know the funny thing about all of this? I would do it all over again. I really would. Even the moments I thought I would rather die (so glad I didn’t!) If you’re a mom, you know what I mean. For me, it took some time to come to this conclusion because of how painful those three weeks were. I needed time to heal. I couldn’t go back to the memory for a long time. But after about three months, I started looking back, allowing God to heal me. And my baby is totally worth it. He is worth it all. I can’t imagine my life without him.

Moral of the story: If you’re about to have a baby, make sure you have a good support team, be it family, friends, a ministry…whoever they are, make sure you are surrounded! If you are going through this, feel free to comment and ask questions. Hopefully I can help. But also, make sure to find help. It can be a therapist, friends, anyone with the right resources! If you are the husband watching this happen to your wife, remember, it’s temporary. Be the support she needs. You don’t need to understand – I don’t know if you could! Just be there. Listen, help, repeat – she still loves you, she just doesn’t have the ability to show it right now. Of course, be honest with her if it goes too far. You know the limit. Make sure it’s in love and service. If she loves you, she’ll do her best to change, despite the circumstance.

Alrighty…that was a LOT of words. Hopefully they had meaning! Happy Tuesday!

Blocked.

If there was at least one person looking forward to a new post (hopeful thinking is allowed!), I’m sorry for being completely MIA. First, I had writer’s block, which went on for about 2 weeks. Then I was hit with…well, being a mom. The little guy is busier than ever and wants my attention all the time. I love it, but it doesn’t give me much time to write. So that is my excuse…probably to myself.

Anyway, I’m ready and excited to write again!

Thanks, K-pop

To be halfway true to my roots, I enjoy watching some good Korean shows. I’m not a K-drama junkie, but I do delight in “Korean humor” and very interesting, sometimes too unrealistic, storylines. Well, one day, my husband and I were watching a reality show (he does it for me – so sweet), and the people in the show were singing a song by a K-pop girl group. The song had English lyrics in some parts, but the English was…well, it went like this, “If you wanna pretty, everyone a pretty.” I know, ew. Total cringe moment. But the next lyric in Korea was something like, “Don’t say it’s not possible,” or something like that.

Why do I bring this random, but hilarious moment up? The song was stuck in my husband’s head today. ALL DAY. It’s been two years since we’ve watched that episode with the song, and he still remembers it. So of course, my cute, tone-deaf, white, American husband sang, “If you wanna pretty, everyone a pretty,” to me from this morning ’till now (it is now evening). But I’m not one to talk because I responded every time with the next line, “Don’t say it’s not possible,” or something like that (it’s in Korean – no perfect way to translate.)

After singing the same line over and over again, all day, it dawned on me. God was trying to tell me something. And really, I knew what He was trying to say. It was as clear as day (I’m a poet! I knew it!) Don’t say it’s not possible. You guys, this moment of revelation is totally mind blowing to me right now – don’t say it’s not possible. Or, “안된다는 말은, no no no no” (the actual lyrics.)

You see, my husband is an entrepreneur – like, at heart. He’s happiest when working on new projects, starting new businesses and thinking of starting new businesses while working on his new business. Of course, he’s also good at finishing his projects, but that’s been the “problem.” It’s a good problem, really. His new business is really taking off, and I have a feeling God wants it to stay. But that means more work hours (can you imagine over 70 hours a week? No such thing as weekends…), more financial investment (I am told his employers need to be paid) and more time living with his parents. Don’t get me wrong, I love my husband’s parents – I always say they are the best in-laws ever. But come on, people. It’s only normal to want to have our own space. And it’s just sad to be so poor when you’re working like a dog every day – even on holidays.

Needless to say, I was feeling pretty hopeless. The cashflow was and may still take a long time to actually happen and my little business is definitely not making enough to pay a mortgage (at least not yet!) I started to believe this was a dead end. We were going to turn 40 until we could own our own home and space.

And that’s when the ridiculous song came up. Don’t say it’s not possible. This whole time I felt like God decided on giving me tough love – I felt like He had no answer for me. I gave up asking Him why on earth we were going through what we were going through. Despite my unspoken anger and loudly spoken frustration, He answered when I wasn’t really looking – don’t say it’s not possible. God seems to love creating random moments for us. Love His sense of humor (only sometimes.)

So thanks to K-pop (Kara, specifically), my hope has been restored. God is still good, and He hasn’t forgotten my family. I knew He never did – I just needed to hear something loud and clear.

Alrighty, ta-ta for now!

Caffeine induced hope.

This is a shortie but a goodie for me.

I drank a tall, chai latte from Starbies (as my friend likes to call it) today. Before I go on, I must share my mom moment in this one. I actually bought the “latte” yesterday, but I left it in the car, totally forgotten. I remembered what had happened this morning, so I decided to risk it and drink it. The night was cold – somewhat valid argument – and I didn’t want to waste my money. Might I mention, I would have never done this before I got married. But a woman can change. So easily.

Anyway, after enjoying some of my special drink, I spent some time with a friend at her house. On my way back home, I felt something I hadn’t felt in a long time.

And that, my friends, was hope.

This hope was so familiar. It was full of energy, full of empowerment. I felt like I could do anything I put my mind to. This hope brought joy and the grace to forgive. I started forgiving some people who had hurt me. I could feel God’s presence all over me. It was such a wonderful, beautiful moment I was so present in, so aware of.

And then it dawned on me: I was high. High on caffeine.

And then it dawned on me again: I hadn’t had energy like this in a long time. Since…before I was pregnant.

So I had a revelation: I need to sleep more.

If I sleep more, I will have more energy. That energy will give me the capacity to do things like, dream, hope, forgive and love. Not that I don’t have the capacity to do that without sleep. But I will have GREATER capacity with much less umph necessary.

How exciting – all I need is sleep.

Then I had a realization. It was a sad realization: I can’t sleep anymore than I am now.

I have to pump every night (possible TMI, I know – sorry) around 11pm, which means I get to go to bed around 11:30pm every night. Not to bad…only I have to wake up around 8am, which is a long 9 hours of sleep. But our household tends to shuffle around at about 6am before the baby gets up (not a problem, only I do lose some sleep.)

So within 10 minutes, I realized what I needed desperately is without reach until our little guy enters the 12 month mark.

Which is why I now look forward to this 12 month mark in May. I wasn’t looking forward to it much at all (who wants their kid to grow up? Really, nobody…), but now I am. I wonder what kind of person I’ll be when I start sleeping more than 8 hours. I wonder if I’ll be super happy, super energetic. Or will I be the same old me as I am today? Either way, I’m excited. I’m excited for this sleep thing. It’ll be a good morning!

Oh high school…(ugh)

As much as I have wonderful memories from high school, I have too many embarrassing moments that make me cringe…and sometimes talk to myself out loud to calm my racing thoughts (I know, weird.) Why couldn’t we all be a little more mature, a little more gracious and a little more socially aware? So unfortunate, yet inevitable.

Well, I just started using social media again, and yes, I reconnected with some of my high school friends. First reaction: joyful excitement. You forget how much fun you had together. Delayed reaction: ugh… You are reminded of your immature thoughts, decisions and not to mention, loads of insecurity you carried around with you everywhere you went.

Which brings me to the “topic of discussion” today: The Game of Comparing. As soon as I think I’m secure and somewhat mature, a wave of insecurity from the past hits me. Really? Do I really struggle with this? Still?

And the answer is…yes. Of course, it’s not as horribly intense – this game of comparison. If the level of intensity used to be a 10 out of 10, it is now…I think…a 3 out of 10? I thought it was a 1 out of 10, but I guess I was wrong (sigh).

Thankfully, I have a husband who tells me when I’m thinking crazy thoughts, so I ran them by with him. And this was his totally unexpected response: “I deal with the same thing every day.”

Okay. I knew many of my friends and myself struggled with this issue, but I really didn’t think my husband did. I mean, he’s a smart, self-motivated, hard working guy who always seems to impress very important people (I am totally biased, but it’s completely true.) So when he told me it’s an every day battle, I came to a conclusion: just about every person on the planet deals with this stressful fight of comparison.

Sadly, this fight went on for a couple hours within me. I knew it was completely irrational, but I just couldn’t shake it off. I “self-talked,” telling myself I was beautiful, smart, etc., I talked to God, repenting for being afraid – I did just about everything I could think of – but it was still there. So then I wondered. I wondered if this was all happening for a reason because there is always a reason for everything, right?

I think God wanted me to revisit these insecurities. He and I both know we want to get rid of them for good (wouldn’t you?), and I knew there was no to get rid of them without revisiting them (so unfortunate.) So I did. I embraced these insecurities. These insecurities, thoughts of comparison, lack of confidence was my own – I owned this dirty, ugly baggage. Whew. Yuck.

Okay, that was the first step. Once I accepted the fact that I struggled with these things, I was actually able to start letting them go. I’m still in that process. Actually, I felt like God told me it was going to take awhile…boo. But I knew this was necessary, and it was a “desire” of my heart. I guess.

This process has just begun (yet again after several attempts), so I don’t know what it’s going to be like. The beginning has so far been pretty smooth, easier than ever before (thank God!), but I don’t know exactly how it’s going to continue panning out. But I know this is what I want, so here goes. I guess I wanted to share because I know most of you are on the same boat. And I know we really need to win this fight because these insecurities will only grow if we don’t take care of them.

Okay, that’s it for now. Happy Wednesday!

Mom and a wife? Or…wife and a mom? Argh…

“Mommy, who do you love more? Your sisters or Daddy?”

I asked that question to my mom when I was in elementary school. We had just moved to Korea from the States, and it seemed like my mom was on the phone with her sisters in America every single day. I guess my little mind was a little confused. I do vividly remember thinking she’d immediately respond, “My sisters.”

But no. My mom paused for a second, as if caught off guard, and replied, “Daddy.” I was in shock – no exaggeration. My two little eyes had only seen my mom talk to her sisters all the time, and my dad was usually gone for work all day. But my mom loved my Daddy more than her sisters. My little mind was blown.

Now as a mother myself, I am confronted with a similar question every day. Except, it’s not sister vs. husband, it’s baby vs. husband. The obvious answer is “husband.” But I’m sure many mothers agree when I say putting that love into action is HARD. It isn’t hard because I don’t love my husband. I do. I really do. I have not and could not love another man – my husband is my love. But when baby was born, it was like something came over me, and I couldn’t easily shake it off. My thoughts, my actions my life were suddenly filled with baby. I couldn’t escape it, but I also enjoyed it. I enjoyed thinking about baby, watching baby’s videos, while feeding baby and playing with baby. It wasn’t that I didn’t love my husband, I just couldn’t think of anything other than baby.

As I was swimming in the pool of mom guilt (moms, can you relate?), I had an obvious epiphany (yes, oxymoron): I am now a mother. Wow. It’s as if I had to accept the fact that I am now a different person. I am not just a daughter, sister and wife, I am a mother. Of course I don’t know how to think and function the way I used to. I have never been a mother. But now I am – I am DIFFERENT from the past. So is my husband. Again, wow. That took a couple of days to sink in…

Then I asked God, “How on earth am I supposed to put my husband before baby? I know You tell us to, but it is just about impossible. Especially when I hear him cry (baby, not husband).” And He responded, “Trust your husband to protect the baby while you protect him (husband, not baby).” Hm…that’s a hard one because not only do I have to let go of control, I also have to trust my husband to do a good job protecting me and the baby (again, moms, can you relate?) Of course, I don’t expect him to know exactly when baby needs to go down for a nap, nor do I expect him to know the perfect way to feed baby. The man works a lot – it’s a win when he can change baby’s diaper halfway and get a couple spoonfuls into baby’s mouth in a day…but it’s the idea, no, the truth, that he loves baby just as much as I do. And he wants the best for baby just as much as I do.

I can go on about how I put these thoughts into action, but that’s not the point of this so-called story. The question was, “Despite being naturally mom to baby who need and requires attention, how do I stay in love with my husband, prioritizing our relationship?” …I felt somewhat stupid when we found the answer. And that revolutionary answer is…

Date night. Yes, it’s that simple…date night.

Many of you professional moms are probably laughing right now. Of course! Why wouldn’t the answer be so simple? But us newbies (well, most of the us. There are the lucky ones who got it fast) are oblivious. Well, until it happens. And so it did. Well, so they did. We had more than a couple tries. The first one was a bit difficult – first time away from baby…not really fun for husband while wife talks about baby the whole time. Oops. But after a couple tries, we finally nailed it! Or so I did. And the weirdest, most incredible thing happened: I remembered what it was like before baby. We were so in love. We are so in love. And we can learn to be in love and fall more in love with baby here.

So that is what we do now. Once a week, we leave baby with Grandma, and we go out. Yes, it’s as simple as that. And for some magical reason, date night opens doors to more snuggles, affection and romance throughout the week. Instead of feeling tired and exhausted from the day, only wanting to lie in bed watch TV, I now want to spend time with my husband – I look forward to it.

For non-married or non-parent ladies, you may not understand this at all. But for my mom ladies out there, many of you have gone through the same thing I experienced. And some of you have found the answer to a healthy and romantic “parent marriage.” For those of you still searching for the answer, or for those of you who have given up, you might want to give that so very simple date night a try. Or a couple tries. Because if you’re a good mom, you want the best for baby (or kids!), and the best for baby is to know and see his parents are super happy to be together. Talk about security.

Yes, loooong post. But hopefully it brought some good chuckles (for those professional moms – kudos to you!), real truth and keys for breakthrough. Okay, I’m done for now (abrupt endings are my specialty). You are awesome!!