All week we have been living the hotel life at a conference. We have eaten protein bars and dried fruit for breakfast, pulled wrinkled clothes out of suitcases to wear each day, and made our coffee next to the very spot I put on my makeup.
The kids have jumped on the beds, jumped on each other, and jumped for Jesus in their classes.
We have stayed up too late and woken up too early, and I find myself again and again explaining to my children that this is conference life: it’s one week into which you cram two or three weeks worth of life, because the people and the teaching are so rich and valuable that you hate to miss even a moment.
All this draws my mind back nine years to the first conference I ever went to as a full-fledged mom.
Boy 1 was seven months old and made it clear he hated hotel life.
He screamed all through nap time, yelled through the night, and refused to settle in to any sort of schedule.
I carried that boy in a sling and walked the hallways for hours, because that was the only place he would sleep. I probably walked the equivalent of one of those ultra-marathons, except no one cheered me on and, dear Jesus, there was. no. finish. line.
I missed almost every meeting, because I was just sure he would finally sleep when it was time to go, or because he needed to eat, or because I was exhausted and couldn’t walk another step.
One evening Mr. Fantastic was returning from a meeting and he could hear Boy 1 shrieking as he exited the elevator. There were several people behind him, and when he got to the door to our room, he kept on walking. I didn’t fault him for it one bit. No one wants to be “those people” in a hotel.
Hotel conference life with a baby is one week into which you cram two months worth of sleepless nights.
You have to be brave to bring a baby on a trip like that. Brave things generally pay off, though, and that conference is one I am very glad I didn’t miss.
Nine years later, I have four exuberant, active big kids. They have stayed up late into the night, riding buses to restaurants. They have gone to sleep fine, woken up smiling, and cheered as they entered their classes.
They love this hotel conference life.
I have watched them all week, swimming in the pool, pushing elevator buttons, and making new friends from all over the world.
I have closed my eyes and remembered the feel of their chubby baby cheeks on mine, the smell of their sweet baby heads, and the holy stillness of a baby asleep in the bed beside me.
Into these nine years of motherhood, I have already crammed at least four lifetimes of the sweetest memories.
You have to be brave to be a mama. You have to look past the lack of sleep, the fights over seats in restaurants, the sicknesses, and the difficult days. You have to let go of the past, cling to the present, and openly receive what is yet to come.
Being brave does pay off. It pays off in a joy that is unsurpassable by any I have ever known.
I love this mama life. I wouldn’t want to miss a moment of it….
