Oh, motherhood. It was such a steep learning curve, first having a baby. What temperature is considered a fever? How do I cut paper-thin fingernails that are attached to a squirmy potato that shrieks? What is a pump falange, and do I seriously need to wash it every day? And I didn’t know about the acronyms; the sweet, beloved acronyms.
I joined a few Facebook groups when I was a new mom. It felt nice to be part of those communities, especially because parenthood was a stage of life I was so excited to finally be a part of, and I couldn’t wait to feel a part of something! But every woman’s post had all these cryptic letters bunched together that seemed to replace full sentences, and I just couldn’t keep up….SAHM, EBF, LO, DH, DD, DS….if you know what all of these mean, congratulations- I still had to Google a couple tonight!! But as I scanned those posts for practical tips and for a sense of community, I didn’t realize how much I was absorbing other humans’ views of this role God had called me to; I took on what these strangers believed about their roles as moms and shaped them into my view of my role, instead of going straight to The Source.
I have wrestled, celebrated, and grown a lot in my view of myself as a mom. Here are the main things I have come to learn:
1. My calling as a mom is going to be unlike anyone else’s, and how I live it out may change as the years go by.
2. The way I parent and carry myself as a mom is unique and special because God made me unique and special (and the same for you!).
3. Parenthood is hard, no matter what; there is no “perfect balance” or “perfect setup”...and that’s why we need Jesus.
So, let me take you on a journey to my first year in parenthood (which was literally just a couple years ago, so do not hold your breath for infinite wisdom here...I do not claim to be seasoned at all, folks!):
We found out we were having Emma six months into marriage. Just before we discovered this sweet news, JB and I had been talking about “all things family planning”: what the “ideal due date” was (like we can actually control that), what my maternity leave and teaching would look like, finances, nursery themes, and all the other fun things. Being the “sharer” I am (at least with talking...not as much with food. Sorry, JB!), I opened up to some friends and family about our exciting conversations. When I asked a few coworkers for their perspective on parenting while teaching, I was discouraged to hear about their difficult experiences with maternity leave and the baby/work balance.
I came home disappointed and after a long talk, JB and I decided to wait six more months before starting a family to try to line up my maternity leave with summer. Just a few weeks later, we found out we were pregnant! This is a crude paraphrase of Proverbs 16:9, but “Man plans, and God laughs [lovingly, I must add]”.
All of a sudden, that six-week maternity leave hung over my head, and the idea of working up until the day I was induced seemed like the only thing I could do. I quickly realized as the final week before my induction date loomed that I needed a break before the big transition that was to come. So I took some of those beloved sick days and prepared for what was to come. A handful of very pregnant days later, and along came sweet Emma.
I was talking to a wonderful new friend today (shoutout to Lacee!), and I was reflecting with her that I tried to keep my head down and my emotions tucked away that first year of Emma’s life. The truth is, it was hard. It was SO hard to leave my baby after just six weeks and to go back to commuting 50 minutes each way and teaching full-time. Emma was in the hands of my beautiful, wonderful gift-of-a-mother-in-law (affectionately named “Gigi” by Emma), which gave me such peace and gratitude. But that was hard for me, too. I wrestled with not fully feeling like a mom, like I had passed my daughter off to someone else. I feared their bond would be stronger. I had just 2-3 hours with Emma at night, and it just didn’t feel like enough time to play with her, snuggle with her, and soak her up; it broke my heart.
But you know what’s crazy? I don’t think I shed more than a few tears that entire first year. And I don’t wear that like a badge of honor (and honestly, sometimes I can get prideful about that)...but the truth is, that goes to show how much I stuffed my emotions down. And a big reason I did that is because I felt like I had this amazing life- a great husband, a daughter, a job that I love; I had no reason to be upset. God had provided for me financially and relationally in every way, and I just told myself I didn’t need to dwell on those difficult things. Plus, it was scary to face strong feelings.
Besides, who likes hanging out with the mom who is constantly sulking over having a wonderful job AND family?
I see now that it’s totally okay to feel those things and to process, free of guilt…I didn’t need to be perfect for my friends or anyone else; I am a human like anyone else, and I need to struggle, too.
I went through so many different mindsets, emotions, stages- whatever you’d like to characterize them as- that first year of Emma’s life. I sometimes resented having to work to help provide for our family’s needs; other times, I couldn’t imagine staying home with Emma- the thought terrified me!; other times, I absolutely adored my job and was a little too prideful about being a “working mom”. So many emotions, thoughts, and struggles. I so desperately wanted some labels for myself so I could figure out how to define myself- anything that helped me find solid ground as my life was turned upside down by this big-eyed beauty named Emma B..
That desire for a label kept leading me to podcasts and those groups with other working moms; I longed to feel understood. I wanted to commiserate with other moms who had to get up before 6am to get themselves cleaned up and presentable before waking up their child, only to feed them and then say goodbye to them. I wanted to hear other stories of moms who were struggling with the balance of motherhood and work and who felt endlessly tired and stretched thin. I wanted to know I wasn’t alone, but I also wanted to gather more and more evidence of why my situation was, by far, the hardest.
I kept the list going through my mind on many-a-dark morning drive...all the reasons why I had it the hardest, accompanied with all the reasons why I shouldn’t face those feelings and try to work through them.
Everything sure looked greener on the other side...the “SAHM” side….
Enter, worldwide pandemic and in-person school shutting down.
All of a sudden, JB and I were working from home and parenting full-time last March.
And then summer came and went- and with summer, came our sweet Ethan. And then, came teaching orchestra online while having kids home with me (some of the time).
These past five months of me teaching at home has been a gift in many ways. Two significant things this time has brought me are healing and perspective.
I can now say, two years into parenthood, that I have experienced the working-full-time-outside-of-the-home thing, the working-full-time-inside-of-the-home-thing, and the being-a-stay-at-home-mom thing. Our amazing Gigi still watches our kids the majority of our workdays (praise God for her!), but there are days when I have the kids home with me. Either I am teaching while mommying, or I am taking a day to be with them, but I have now been blessed to have these experiences.
So, here are my reflections on being home while working and parenting…
I truly never saw a plausible scenario where I could spend this much time with our children (except for summers, which is obviously a huge blessing I can so readily forget about when I am throwing myself a I’m-discontent-with-life-pity-party), but that’s exactly what I’ve been able to do. I have been able to have the tea parties, the dressup fashion shows, the giggles, and the rolling over for the first time moments this school year, and I still smile and thank God for these times.
I have experienced this “stay-at-home-mom-life” that I coveted so much and have realized something...working or not -commuting or not-, parenthood is hard!!! Is that freeing for you to read?! Because it’s honestly freeing for me to type. I especially need to write this out now as I approach going back to in-person teaching in two months.
Parenthood is hard, no matter how you slice and dice it. Yes, getting up at the crack of dawn and having to get everyone ready and out the door, leaving your kids, taking care of other people’s children all day, and doing a long drive home before putting dinner on the table and then doing it all again the next day- those things are hard. But so is making breakfast, lunch, and dinner for a toddler who sometimes goes through a picky phase, or who currently likes to push boundaries by sticking her feet up on the table (yeah, COVID has NOT worked wonders in teaching our toddler about public decorum…). It’s hard to change two diapers every two seconds (okay, it’s usually a little longer than that before we are back to the animal-themed changing tables). And when nap time doesn’t happen, a baby is teething, or a child isn’t feeling well...all bets are off for my mental stability by the end of the day!
I see now that it’s just not even worth comparing- working mom vs. stay-at-home mom. We are so much more than that label anyways. And look! My “label” changed in just a matter of weeks. I went from teaching in person full time to sitting behind a computer at home all day.
God does amazing things through our hearts and lives, and He is our stability and our identity; I am learning to trust Him and stop putting myself in this box that “I am the working mom who can never go to MOPS... I am the working mom who never feels like she can keep all the plates spinning... I am the working mom who is missing out on her kids’ childhoods.”
I have no idea what is in store, but even if I can’t ever make it to a single MOPS meeting (yes I know, another acronym to learn…), I can make a new friend at my place of work. I can text with my closest friends or my dear twin in between classes.
And yeah, it’s true- I can’t keep all the plates spinning. I’m not supposed to. Who ever said I was supposed to handle life perfectly and effortlessly? Why do I put that on myself? If I could balance everything flawlessly, then I would be God. Which would be scary, folks! You don’t want me to be in charge of your lives!! But seriously, I have an amazing God who loves me, takes care of me, only does what is best for me- who works all things for good, even when I feel super discouraged or crabby about my life.
While we are talking about plate-spinning…
My dear husband (affectionately called “DH” in the online world hahaha) gave me this great image when I was talking to him (for the thousandth time) about not being able to spin all the plates: Think of the responsibilities of parenthood as juggling balls: Certain balls are glass and are very fragile; others are plastic and can be dropped and picked back up. That image has truly reshaped my thinking. There are certain things that are glass- taking care of my childrens’ daily needs, bedtime snuggles, work deadlines, lesson plans for the next day. But there are other things that can be put away or even dropped. It’s okay to not be able to do it all; we’re not supposed to.
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| Emma pulled out her toy viola to play while she sat on my lap and I taught a Zoom violin lesson! |
And as for this lie that I am missing out on my kids’ childhood...I still honestly wrestle with that. I don’t want to look back with regret. But I also want to help lay a solid financial foundation for my kids and help put food on the table (which is a huge blessing to be able to do that when I really think about it...what a gift!).
All I know is that Emma and Ethan know how loved they are. And I know that at the end of the day, Emma wants to rock with Mama and sing with her. I know that Ethan lights up when I walk into the room more than anyone else (yes, it is very milk-driven, but I will take it!!!).
Also, I know that the memories Emma is making with her grandparents while I am working are absolutely priceless treasures. And while I couldn’t have quite put it the same way or typed with the same level of emotion if they were in daycare, I know that those would be wonderful memories and life skills that my kids would have gotten there as well.
But, here is the real Truth:
God is the True Father of my children. He is with them when I drop them off at Gigi’s, and when I wake them up for breakfast at home in between Zoom classes. And He is my Father, too. He is with me as I drive to school or pad over to my computer desk at home. He is with me as I try to balance maintaining meaningful friendships and a job. He is with me in the emails, the toddler radio songs, the cello practicing, the dinner making, and the baby feeding. He is sitting next to me at the kitchen table as I feed Baby Brother his sweet potatoes, and He is with me as I lay my head down at night, thinking through the next day before I’ve even allowed myself to rest. He is with me when I have too many emotions, or too little emotions and just don’t quite know what I feel. He is with me when I am disappointed in myself or in life. And He is with me when I am on top of the world, smiling at my husband as we celebrate the little miracles He has given us.
I’m not sure how I could better wrap up my late-night musings; to know that I don’t need to prove anything or fit into a specific label is a relief. To know that parenthood and life are full of challenges, but that God uses it all and that I can praise Him, even in the hard moments and seasons, is a strengthening hope.
I pray that these cluttered musings bring you some comfort, too. You are not alone- not only because you have me, but even better...you have Him.
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