It's Not a Competition, But...

So finally, finally, someone I know has had a baby. And I am thrilled, not only because I love this couple and know they are going to make great parents, and not just because their little baby is as absolutely precious and perfect as you could ever want, but because I finally have someone on whom to bestow all the reams of advice I've been gathering since I became a mom. Not that I'm some kind of expert. All I have is my own experience, trials, discoveries, errors, ah-has. But I relied so much on all my mom (and dad) friends when I had Violet, I'm excited to finally pass it on.

Unfortunately, my friend is such a cool and capable mom, she hasn't come calling for much advice. And I try not to foist it on anyone without being asked (it's hard sometimes, but I try). So whenever I get that random text asking the tiniest question, I jump on it with all my motherly might.

The other day, I did get a question and it was about a topic I happened to have first hand experience in. When Violet was just a week old, I noticed her eye was getting gunky, like when you wake up in the morning with sleepy boogers in the corner of your eye. After a bit of googling, I realized it was probably a clogged tear duct (common) and to be safe, I called the pediatrician. The doctor confirmed my diagnosis, ordered up some eye drops, and we moved on.

Note her left eye... it always looks wet like she's been crying.

Well, my friend called me up to describe her baby's gunky eye and asked if I'd ever seen anything like that before. Had I?! Quickly I sketched out my past experience, gave her plenty of reassurance, offered some home remedies (a squirt of breast milk in the eye - who knew! Note: I did not attempt this treatment. For one thing, I wasn't sure how good my aim would be!) and told her to call the doctor in the morning for some eye drops. Problem solved, big pat on the back to me.

The next day, being the concerned friend that I am, I called to check up on the wee one. Wasn't I right? Hadn't the doctor been impressed at the self-diagnosis? Weren't the eye drops the right fix? Aren't I the best advice-giving mommy friend ever?

But it turned out, they hadn't been to the pediatrician. The eye was much better. My friend had simply prayed for her baby's eye and God had answered [her] prayers! (her exclamation point, not mine).

And before I continue, let me stop here and say that this friend of mine is one of the kindest, most generous people I've had to pleasure to have in my life. She is a wonderful mom (other than her lack of needing advice) and is the last person in the world anyone would wish ill toward. She knows nothing of my reaction to her words and deserves none of the ire that I might have conjured up. And honey, if you're reading this, well.... just stop reading it. I know you had absolutely zero intention of what follows and it's totally not your fault, so forgive me.

Because the instant I heard her chipper words about God answering her prayers, the competitive, bitchy, disgustingly human side of me reared its ugly head. Instead of being thrilled for her and her child, I got snarky. And mad. And jealous. See, I've prayed for Violet's eye. I've had others pray for her eye. And what do I get? Multiple rounds of eye drops (and now the girl squirms so much I can't even get them in there) and Violet is still battling the clogged tear duct. (Eventually, if it doesn't clear up on its own, it will require a surgical procedure under general anesthesia to unblock it... not my fondest thought.)

Cue my pity party. How come my prayers don't work, huh? Why does her kid get to be all perfect while mine is still dealing? (I'm cringing even as I write these thoughts. They really are revolting. But into my head they popped, unbidden, because I'm human that way. Good thing my God is the forgiving type. Hopefully my friend is too.)

Then God, noting the hissy fit I was pitching, decided to reach down and slap some sense into me. Because that night I got the devastating news that a fellow grad school alum was in the hospital. His week-long flu had developed into pneumonia, he'd had a seizure, coded, and was now lying in a hospital showing no brain activity with his heartbroken fiance holding vigil beside him through the darkest night of her life. He passed away the next day. And that was despite the prayers that were sent flying Heavenward on his behalf the minute we heard the news.

So what's the moral to this story? Well, what I took from the experience was this. God's always listening. And sometimes, true, He's not going to answer our prayers the way we want. But that's because He knows the path we're walking. And for some of us, that path ends abruptly, with no reason we can fathom. And it sucks. But God knows. And if my path involves a little eye gunk, I'm not going to complain about it. Because He's answered a thousand other prayers of mine - Keep Violet safe, let her know how much we love her, give me patience, help me find my wallet, give me a sign, help Violet feel better - just to name a few. And He's answered countless more that haven't even made it to my lips, that have just welled up inside, a wordless cry in the darkness. And whether or not He chooses to heal Violet's eye or instead sees her safely through the procedure, He's got it under control. There are a million worse things I could be dealing with than a tear duct that won't drain properly.