(image borrowed from http://www.cookiepots.com/images/New%202005/motherhood-1.JPG)A note of caution: This is the first treatise (long, very long) of the week. #2: Treatise on Marriage and #3: Finding Joy in Being a Wife and Mother are next up on the docket. These are things I've been struggling with, and you know I work through things by writing about them, so feel free to remark away. All thoughts are welcome, even those anonymous ones.
I think if anyone had been able to fully explain to me what marriage/motherhood truly entailed, where I could understand it on a deeper level than simply grasping at some nebulous intellectual concept, I might not have signed up for the role. Thankfully, though I certainly didn’t have blinders on, I plunged in, mostly unaware of the complexities of marriage and the difficulties of motherhood.
Supposedly, marriage goes through three (maybe 4) stages before death. I know the first one is infatuation (otherwise known as the honeymoon phase), and there my aptitude halts. (Somebody fill me in if you know). Jeff and I think we never got this stage, for my pregnancy(s) certainly stifled much desire on my part, and attempt on his, to be completely engrossed in one another like goo-goo little love birds perched on a love branch contemplating cupid’s pointed arrow and congratulating ourselves on his direct shot. I was pregnant within the first week of our marital passion, and those pregnancy hormones kicked in full force driving all reason and sanity from my once levelheaded self.
Granted. I’ve only been married not even two years and I still have a long, full life of learning left to do, but I’m not ashamed to admit that this current process is dang hard work. I’m no stranger to hard work; I’m not opposed to working hard, and don’t we learn to appreciate that for which we work the hardest? But, I am saying the daily routine of being a wife/mother is most taxing at times and can be downright depressing, draining, and unrewarding.
I do believe that God gives women the capacity to cope with a tremendous amount of “stuff”, since we’re in the business of being care-givers, but some days I just break down and cry because I don’t know how I’m going to deal with all the demands on me. And I’ve just got one husband and one child.
Think about it for a minute. All we learn about motherhood is usually from our own mothers (who grew up in a different era with different expectations), our grandmothers (who grew up in yet another era of expectations), extended family of women, and maybe a few other non-relative instrumental women.
Now, when I think back to my growing up years, I think of a very simple example. I wasn’t interested in cooking, cleaning, washing, or mopping (still ain’t). And though my mother tried to instill me with culinary abilities and creating magical masterpieces on the sewing machine, I came out with the rudimentary ability to pan fry a hamburger and stitch holes in my clothes (and one Barbie outfit). I simply wasn’t interested; I was too busy trying to prove myself to the “boys.”
And, what in school or church reinforced the things my mother tried to teach me? Not much. High school offered a couple of Home Ec classes, but I honestly (and here’s my pride talking) thought that was for girls with no educational goals. I had goals, friends. I was going to be something great, get a Ph.D. and teach, all while making a name for myself before I settled down into the conventional role of motherhood and marriage.
Those were good goals, God-honoring goals (except for wanting to make a name for myself and be something great), and I still have them. But, I have put those goals on the back burner to simmer until my children are grown.
In today’s culture of ultra feminism and gender equality penetrating even into the very ranks and homes of conservative Christianity, for a woman to choose to stay home and raise children, is an unthinkable slap in the face for women (or so many believe) and the many milestones gained for equal rights. (Now, I am of the humble opinion that had men truly loved their wives the way God commands, there wouldn’t have been this great big push for equal rights - - for we would have never felt the injustice). Don’t get me wrong, sistah friends. I truly believe, nay, I know, God created man and woman equally. I have just as much “right” as Jeff to not only express my opinion, to vote my conscience, to picket a cause, but to also pursue my dreams…employed within the boundaries of God’s perfect design and my designated role as “helper” for isn’t that what God, in the Garden of Eden, promised Adam? A helpmeet? Yes. As such, I have every obligation to “exercise my rights” in love, with the right spirit, and in the right time.
There are many women, who, if given the opportunity to do life over or to currently choose differently, would give anything, and I mean, anything, to stay home with their children. Raising children, I’m discovering, is a lifelong investment, and like most investments, you don’t see immediate rewards or dividends. This comes much later, when they’re adults, raising their own children, and you can then say, with confidence, that you raised God-fearing, emotionally healthy, well-adjusted, giving children because you loved them, supplied them with the biblical foundation to succeed, disciplined them with that fair rod, and were their biggest champions. What is 18 years of investment in one small life when they have an eternity of heaven or hell to face and you’re incredibly instrumental in that eternal decision? And truly, what is 18 years invested in one small life when I have between 60-100 to live? My life is just beginning. I have at least 60 good years left!
For now, the key is to find the small bonuses, to daily find joy and contentment in their little victories and achievements.
Motherhood is currently one of the most sacrificial occupations known to women. Because of the pervading culture influenced by the anything-goes-as-long-as-it-makes-me-happy-mentality, we have grown up (even in Christian homes) with the idea that it’s perfectly acceptable and a “right” to be me-centered. I know I’m guilty of it. Marriage started to change that, but motherhood certainly speeds up the process. If we want our children to overcome the dysfunctionality of postmodern American homes, we have to be changed ourselves, from within. And that is only possible with Jesus Christ’s help, with daily seeking guidance and support from him. We have to take the focus off ourselves, our needs, our wants, our desires, and totally and completely focus on our little charges. That’s not to say that we intentionally prostrate ourselves by rejecting, with feigned melodrama, things we like, but it simply means that we no longer put ourselves before their needs. Our husbands (and that’s tomorrow’s treatise) and our children come first.
You might ask a very simple question. How? How do I put them first, and how do I find pleasure/reward in the daily grind?
I’ve put together a little list to remind myself how to do it. Maybe you should fashion your own.
1.) When I’m on poop patrol for the 4th time in one day, thank God Gideon’s bowels are moving and working right, tight, and regular. He could be miserably constipated.
2.) When he can’t sleep at night for teething, and I’ve been up with him for two hours, humming “Lullabye and Good Night” in my off-key pitch for the 100th time, thank God at least one song calms him down.
3.) After a sleepless night on my part, and he wakes up with that little grin and bounces all over the crib because he’s happy to see me, be still my overflowing heart. Thank God he recognizes me.
4.) Gaze upon his sleeping peaceful sweet little face and remind myself that this pleasure is only for a short while. Soon he’ll have peach fuzz growing in patches and worries of his own and he’ll wake up if I’m staring at him.
5.) When he makes messes with his toys, dragging them all over the floor and scattering to the four winds, be thankful that soon he’ll be taught how to pick up his own toys!
6.) When he bites me, thinking he’s playing, with those sharp little teeth, start teaching him what “no” means, and then thank the Lord he has teeth.
7.) When he’s squealing so loudly in the backseat that I can’t hear a word of what Jeff is trying to say to me, instead of being irritated, thank the Lord that his vocal chords work, and use this “teachable moment” to tell him to quiet down because mommy and daddy are talking (as if he understands).
8.) When he gets fussy because he’s tired and hungry, praise the Lord because that means nap time is coming soon!
9.) When he grabs my hands to make them play patty cake, yet again, be thankful he’s learning how to make my hands do what his do. His little brain is working.
10.) When he falls down and bumps his head, be thankful he’s trying to learn to stand and walk alone.
I was once told in a high school Sunday School class that, if all you have is thankfulness in your heart, there’s no room for anything else. Why not give it a try this week? Be encouraged. Many of us are struggling along right there with you.
