What Else Have I Got to Do?

Motherhood set my world spinning on its axis.  Truth be told, I wasn't ever sure I really wanted to be a mother.  My sister started early, and it seemed that kids had seriously disrupted her life, her dreams, and doing anything with, or for, herself.  My own mother resented us. Again, it seemed that children had done nothing more than disrupt her life and plans.  Neither my mother nor my sister ever seemed happy.  I wasn't sure I had the maternal instinct necessary to raise children, either.  Given all of that, it just didn't seem that kids were the way to go for me.  Instead, I set my sights on working with other people and their children.  Even when I discovered I was pregnant with Noah, I still wasn't sure I was equipped, and willing, to be a mom.

Hahahaha.  You ever get the feeling that God laughs?  Maybe not necessarily at you, but to encourage you to laugh WITH Him at yourself?  There's that old Jewish proverb that sometimes has the feel of a theme to my life: "Man plans, God laughs."

So, here I am--a mother of three, having battled infertility to get to this point, having battled disease and disability, fighting and clawing my way to motherhood.  I can't imagine life any other way.  I wouldn't be who I am if not for these three boys of mine.  If you can't see God's sense of humor....

Here's the thing though--there have been times I resented my children.  In the depths of depression, I begged God, "When will it be MY turn?"  I gave up my life to raise these boys, sacrificing much of myself along the way.  My own desires, my own interests, my own body--all out the window.  I mistakenly martyred myself to motherhood.  It stopped being something I enjoyed.  I forgot to enjoy my own children.  It was just the same drudgery, day after day.  Laundry?  Who cares.  Feeding my family?  Eh.  Playing with my kids?  No thanks.  Relationship with my husband?  Does he not see these two leaches hanging off me already?  I felt like I had an agenda, and not only was my family not on that agenda, but they were increasingly in the way of it.  With that, the guilt would start.  I knew I was being a jerk.  I felt I was being selfish for wanting a life outside of motherhood, and I knew I was being resentful.  I struggled with who I was outside of being a wife and a mother.  My identity was just them.

I wasn't just resenting my children, I was also resenting my husband.  If there was something he wanted to do, he just went out and did it.  If there was something I wanted to do, I had to either wait for him to be home, or arrange for a sitter.  I could check off in my head what felt like a gazillion things I had to do before I could take time for myself, and then I was just going to come home to a huge mess anyway.  It wasn't worth it--what was the point?  I had to be responsible for the boys, and I felt tied down by them, and that responsibility.  I felt chained to the house, and chained to them.  I wanted some of that freedom I felt my husband had.

In my head, at the time, I knew I was headed down a very wrong, very dangerous path.  Not only was it not healthy for myself, it was incredibly detrimental to my children.  I was at risk of doing them serious damage, if I hadn't already.  I needed to change, and that change was up to me, and only me.  No one else could do it for me.

I asked for these children.  I asked for this marriage.  I asked for this life, and I asked to be a stay at home mom.  Not only that, I fought for, and prayed for, these roles and these children.  With my behavior, I was missing out.  My family was missing out.

I started seeing motherhood as my ministry.  This is where God has called me to be in this life, at this time.  There's a reason I'm here, there's a reason He chose me as their mom. It's up to me to be happy in it.  It's not about me, it's not about what I want to do (at least, not all of the time--but I'll get to that).  What is IS about is raising these boys into young men who will be amazing dads and husbands.  Being worthy of the gift God has entrusted to me, and making sure they know they are loved, wanted and worthy themselves.  It's about breaking cycles set in motion by previous generations, and myself.

I also found out I'm not so alone in this. I wasn't alone with many of these thoughts, but society frowns upon anything other than a happy, smiling, everything-is-just-great mommy, so stay quiet and keep those things to yourself.  Motherhood itself is overwhelming, then you add the rest of life to it.  We were dealing with a lot at the time--Noah's diagnostic process, a newborn, my recurring health issues, eventually homeschooling Noah, and various other issues--some days it was all too much.  I couldn't deal.  I know at the time I was trying to tell people how overwhelmed I was, how I felt our marriage was in trouble, but I felt no one was listening or could hear me, so I went back to pasting a smile on my face and faking it as much as I could in public.  If you've met me, you know I'm pretty bad at faking it.  I'm lucky I had good friends who spoke to me and held me accountable,  who saw through all the fakity-fake, but I still struggled with asking for help and support.

I've been part of a mothers of young children-type bible study over the past year and that has been my lightbulb moment.  First, I realized I've worked through quite a few of my own problems, and learned to embrace motherhood again.  Things are no longer as bad as they may have been.  I've learned that I need a support system, and not just a text here and there (don't get me wrong, those do get me through some major moments!), but genuine, face-to-face contact on a weekly, and sometimes daily, basis.  I tried doing things on my own, and that is when it got overwhelming.  I need to see other moms to be held accountable, to hear I'm not alone, and to hear that yes, their kids are idiots sweet little innocent things too.  Hearing that I am not alone has been imperative.  Another thing I've learned is that it is okay to not love everything about being home, about being a wife, about being a mother--I don't even have to like it.  But I do need to find purpose, and even, yes, joy in those parts I don't love so much--it's much easier to clean the toilets with a song in my heart than it is to hate it.  These are not things I have to endure, but they are things I've chosen to do. My brightest lightbulb--I have to take care of myself.  It's okay to have interests that don't involve my children.  I need to take that time for myself in order to be better for them.  If I don't, we all suffer.  It's not selfish to carve out an hour or two for myself each week. And--I'm the only one who can do that, it's not up to anyone else to find that time or make me leave the house.  Shawn and I have worked out a better rhythm and system for 'time off,' and that's helped tremendously.  I've also changed my attitude about my time off--yes, the house will most likely be more of a disaster than I left it in, everyone will still be in their pjs, they will all be drooling in front of video games and won't have eaten anything other than potato chips--but that's okay. I've realized my kids need that time away from me, too.  They need that time with Shawn and the "while the cat's away the mice will play" opportunities.

My kids need me, and I need them.  I don't have a job I need to rush off to each day--my job is already here.  I don't have work I have to cram into my day, with my kids coming in second place.  What else am I going to do?  Yes, there are days it still gets monotonous, but I have found a rhythm in the vacuuming, chauffeuring, feeding, clothing, disciplining, homework and other forms of so-called drudgery.  There is a ministry to it--keeping the house clean so they are healthy; taking pride in providing healthy meals so they eat well; knowing that Shawn and I are the main influences in their lives, we are the ones caring for them and speaking into their lives;  knowing that I am the first line of response in anything they need, and I'm here when they get home from school, when they need anything, and being grateful that I can be here, in this life, in this moment.  I may not feel like playing Transformers, or listening to Noah's latest book he's writing--but what else have I got to do?  Nothing.  This is it, right here.  This is what I have to do.  Motherhood.