When our first child was six weeks old, my husband turned to me in a quiet moment and said, "Can you believe we have kept him alive this long?" I was pretty shocked by it, too, really. I mean, come on, I had killed every plant I ever tried to grow (sorry Xanadu), and I only remembered to feed our cat because she is the single most annoying creature in the world for the hour or two before she is supposed to eat. If it wasn't for her incessant meowing, well... I digress.
I never considered myself a selfish person. I look back now on that statement and laugh.
That is what kids do. They show you how deeply selfish you really are. And, man, am I ever glad they did that and keep doing it to me today.
It isn't about the number of kids. I can say that with some wisdom behind my words at this point...three still being fed every day and surviving and one being fearfully and wonderfully made inside my belly as we speak. Someday, I am sure I will read this statement and laugh at myself, too. "HA! I thought I had wisdom then? I was just a pup."
Such is life.
One kid is hard. You die to yourself and your own needs everyday just trying to figure out how to keep this human being alive! You agonize over sleep patterns and feeding schedules and finding a balance in your relationship with your husband. You find joy you never knew existed while yet feeling such aches of guilt and sorrow for not being the mom you always thought you would be.
Two kids are hard. You die to yourself and your own needs everyday just trying to figure out how you will ever go anywhere outside your home ever again with all this stuff. You agonize over two sleep patterns and contradicting feeding schedules and finding a balance in your relationship with your husband. You find joy again that you never knew could extend past one while yet still feeling the aches of guilt and sorrow for not being the mom you always thought you would be. And now you have two to screw up with. The guilt grows.
Three kids are hard. You die to yourself and your own needs everyday just trying to figure out how you can possibly hold all of their hands in the parking lot. You forget about all the stuff, and just focus on the hands...do I have everyone's hands???? You agonize over three sleep patterns and rotating feeding schedules and finding a balance in your relationship with your husband. You find joy in letting a little of yourself go again while yet still feeling those same aches of guilt. There is now no possible way I can be the mom I always wanted to be to all of them. I don't even have enough hands to hold their hands across the street! The guilt grows.
Our fourth is still pretty self-sufficient in there, so I won't say I know four kids are hard, too. But I can make a pretty educated guess that things aren't getting any easier around here anytime soon. And because I am a human being, I am pretty sure the guilt will just keep growing right along with it.
Mommying is hard. There are no employee appraisals, and yet everyday someone has something to say about the way you do it, the choices you made, the failures you inevitably had, and how they would have done it differently. There are no awards, and yet everyday social media blasts you with pictures of everyone else doing it better than you (because really, how many of us post pictures of our bad moments?)
Mommying is hard because I am a sinner.
I look to myself for the strength and ability to do this.
I choose my own needs before others'.
I read blogs I shouldn't read with opinions I wish I didn't know about.
I covet praise.
I feel anger in my heart towards my children for not letting me do what I want to do.
I feel guilt for the anger in my heart.
I fail...every. single. day.
I am a sinner. I was a sinner when I had one. I was a sinner when I had two. I am a sinner now with three. And I can promise you I will be a sinner when the fourth arrives, too.
Mommying is so hard for the same reason every vocation is hard, because we are sinners. The challenges are different, but the source of pain is the same.
But thanks be to God, the story doesn't end there. Because even Jesus knelt in prayer with sweat-turned-blood, agonizing over the vocation He was given, asking that the cup be removed from Him. But because of His love for us, He said, "Your will be done" to the Father, and took our place upon the cross. He drank the whole cup of death so that we wouldn't. He completely fulfilled His vocation so that when you don't, you have forgiveness through Him.
There is no greater peace than this in mommying.
So, keep on keeping on, Ladies, in the joy and peace of Christ.
