The GREAT news is that if you remember my last post about potty training, we tried it again over Martin's vacation the last 2 weeks and it WORKED!!! I had a feeling that Micah would respond better with Martin helping him, and he did. He has only had 1 accident in two weeks and it was right after a nap in bed. Yesterday for the first time he stood up to go, too!!! So now he is standing and peeing, and I can worry less about the potty-issues at preschool (before he would have had to sit down to go and there were all sorts of "issues" with that). We're still working on the pooping part, though... He is nervous to go on the potty and wants a pull-up on to do his "business". But he's never had a pooping accident outside of the house so I'm not too concerned about that. So, thankfully we are 75% there- at 39 months, to be exact. Whew! I thought this day would never come...
The past few nights as I've laid in bed I have thought about how hard it is to watch your baby grow up and let him go. That painful separation first happened at birth when he was forced out of the safety of my womb. Then they cut the umbilical cord, forever physically separating us. I could no longer always have him safe inside of me. The next step was letting someone else babysit - I about had a breakdown the first time we did that a few months after he was born. Then it was putting him in the church nursery, exposing him to all of those "germs" (now that I've had two, I'm not that anal anymore - don't worry). From there, we have gradually had to let him go, step by step. He has always done fine and hardly ever cried when we've left him for a few hours. But it is hard on me. I want to protect my boys, shelter them, shield them from all harm, love them, cover them. Now with preschool, this is our biggest step so far. I can't run to him when he's hurt and kiss his scrapes. I can't rush over when I see him crying anymore. I have to trust someone else.
This has been on my heart the past few nights. I'm sad, I admit. Sad that my boy is growing up and I can't be there 100% of the time anymore. But he needs this time, I know. (Okay, I need it too).
This morning I felt led to turn to Exodus 2 during my devotional time. I didn't know why, but as I read, it became clear. I read about how Moses' mother made a waterproof basket, laid baby Moses in it, and set him in the water. He couldn't have been more than a few months old at this time. Yet fearing for his life, she knew she had to let him go. The Bible says that he was crying when Pharoah's daughter found him. I thought about how heart-wrenching it must have been for Moses' mother to see him floating down the Nile river (which was huge, I might add), hearing him crying, and knowing she couldn't go get him. She just had to let him go. She didn't know what would happen to him. Anyone could have picked him up, or the current could have taken him away, or he could have fallen out into the water. Yet God intervened and brought the perfect person in to find him and rescue him. God cared about baby Moses even more than Moses' own mother did, because Moses was first and foremost HIS child. His baby.
God knew just what I needed this morning. This story encouraged me so much. All of these "baby steps" of letting Micah go and grow up just remind me that he belongs to God. Micah is God's child, his son, too. And I can trust Him. He will watch over him even when I can't, and that's what I have to hold onto.