To The Mama Who Feels Like She’s Failing…….

  ” The Lord will guide you always; he will satisfy your needs in a sun-scorched land and will strengthen your frame. You will be like a well-watered garden, like a spring whose waters never fail.” ~Isaiah 58:11

      

 

      Last night as I was driving in to head to bible study I would like to be able to say that I was feeling good…but truth was that an hour before had been a total nightmare.

     See, My girls were also going to the church for a end of season pajama party for their youth group, but when the time came to get ready to go….what seemed like a quick easy thing turned in to total chaos in the matter of seconds. My toddler was screaming because nothing felt right on her body, my oldest was annoyed that she was going to be late and honestly I cant blame her…I felt the exact same way.

     I threatened to leave her…..you know…the empty threat that your never going to do and I don’t know why we do it because it never works anyways. My quiet calm voice grew louder and louder until everyone was screaming, frustrated, and exhausted from the battle of coats and boots.

    We all made it in the car with not a minute to spare. But that Mama, the one with Casting Crowns blaring in the background. The one heading to bible study. The one with their kids dressed in matching pajamas in the backseat….the one who looked like she had it all together…did not. In fact she felt like a total failure.

How many times have we all felt that exact same way?

How many times have we entered somewhere with a smile on our face and self doubt in our hearts? How many times have we hidden who we are or mistakes we’ve made just so that can measure up to the Mom besides us?

How many times have we handed over the power to judge us to the wrong being?

Truth is, the last couple months , ten years….I’ve been struggling.

      Since the moment that a tiny eight pound, beautiful, slippery body was placed on my chest I immediately entered in to the world of Motherhood. In to a whole new world where self doubt, comparison, and the ability to mess up lingered around every corner.

     A world where the beauty and excitement  of new life was so very evident but the hidden pressures and inadequacy’s surround your every being as each day passed and the realization of just how big, just how important the job…..this whole Mom thing….. was going to be.

     As the world has advanced I’m not so convinced that we have. While we’ve pushed for acceptance of differences those very things have given us even more oppourtunities to fail ourselves. The world has seemed to emphasize our differences, and has even given us labels. Labels where Soccer Mom, Granola Mom, and Helicopter Mom suddenly are something we put in an order of better than….on a scale between the mom we want to be and the mom we don’t. Glorifying some more than others. Oblivious to the fact that not only are we individuals….not only has God made each one of us uniquely, but that every Mom  we have labeled from the moment we laid eyes on them are not just that.

    I have spent seasons yearning to be “that” mom. The mom that has it all together. The mom whos home you visit without cheerios on the floor and last nights super dishes in the sink.

I have spent years missing out on the blessings that was given to me because I was spending so much more time trying to be someone else.

I tried so desperately at times to fill material needs instead of spiritual ones.

I doubted my choices, because they were not yours.

I downplayed by abilities and strengths because they were not the same as others.

I’ve let Facebook hide the truths behind the pictures.

I have kept my eyes focused on becoming “mother-like” and not “God-like.”

I have spent years putting woman on pedestals for doing the exact same thing that all of us are doing…..

….raising our children to the very best of our abilities.

See, we may all parent differently but we all have the same goal.

We all love our children deeply and want what’s best for them.

….and I am learning(Sometimes the hard way) that God’s best and my best may be two different things and that if that is the case then I am going to fail at mine every single time.

    So to the Mama who feels like she’s failing…I’m here with you, fighting the same battle. Sitting hopelessly on the kitchen floor, feeling discouraged as I walk across my living room and cheerios crunch between my toes, and as I walk away from what seems like a fun family event only to have crying children and a doubting heart.

No one says it was going to be easy, but we can stop being so hard on ourselves….on each other.

You are not a failure.

You are a mother.

A beautiful and blessed being of God’s that sometimes needs a reminder that not only are you raising warriors, but that you already have a Warrior leading you through every battle you face.

We got this.

….and hey, when we don’t. He does.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Celebrating Audrey – Day 4, Abigail

“God is within her, she will not fall; God will help her at break of day.” Psalm 46:3

Abigail

     Abigail was younger when her first sister was born, so by the time Audrey came along she was old enough to help the way she wanted to. The look of love on Abigails face meeting Audrey for the first time was priceless. They became inseparable and Abigail would often hold Audrey on the couch while I would clean up after meals. Abigail would proudly call it “her job”, and it became their time together.

   Abigail wasn’t the only one in love, because Audrey was quite smitten with her also. Abi could calm her down just by speaking to her, and would often sing ” I love you forever” over and over again. Audrey actually smiled at her for the first time. Abi thought that was pretty special and would often tease me about it.

   We took Audrey camping for the first time when she was only four weeks old and Abigail loved being the big sister as she showed her off to all of her camp ground friends. She would proudly stand there as they ogled excitedly over the sight of such a small baby.

   

   On the morning of July sixth my innocent Abi woke up to the sounds of horrifying screams, loud cries, and sirens. Panicked and not wanting the girls to see her sister laying lifeless on the floor, I quickly shut them in a room together and locked the door. Over the past year she has opened up to me about her fears that morning, and about trying to console her little sister in the bedroom while only a door separated them from the chaos going on outside.

    Having to tell Abigail that Audrey had died was the hardest thing I had ever had to do. I felt so helpless as the very pain I wanted so desperately protect her from quickly spread across her face. Knowing that I could not shield her from this death as I had done for her sisters Alexis I allowed her to say goodbye. My heart broke continuously as I watched her sit in a pink hospital chair and hold her sister in her arms as she started to blurt out any reason that she may have died, desperately trying to make sense of what had just happened.

   The morning that Audrey died I was terrified that a part of my bright, vibrant, and full of life little girl was going to die to. The morning that Audrey died I feared that Abigail would live her life bitter, angry, and in-contented with the questions we were unable to answer.

  But she didn’t.

  Through Audreys death she has watched, learned, and thrived. Through Audreys death she has witnessed the true love of our family, church, and community. She has felt the arms of the people we love wrapped around us in times we have needed it the most, and  she has seen her father step us as a leader, protector, and nurturer as he held our crumbling family together.

  Abigail’s faith has grown as Audreys death has opened up endless oppourtunities for conversation about his grace, his love, and our need for him. Audreys death was traumatic…it was unexpected….and there was no way to sugar coat anything. There were times when I couldn’t hold it together anymore and she found me completely broken on the floor, but we kept going. We looked up verses together when we needed an answer, we prayed together when our questions were left unanswered and we just didn’t understand, and we cried together when it hurt too bad. We struggled together,but we also grew together. We smiled as I laid with her in bed at night and remembered Audrey, we wondered together as we talked about what she might be doing in Heaven, and we comforted each other as we missed her.

   Abis life could have easily ended the day that Audreys did. She could have stayed angry at God, instead she glorified him. She could have ran away from him, instead she ran to him. She even expressed interest in being baptized. Audrey showed her that there is not only love in life, but that there is love after….that with life comes trials, and things may not always be the way we would like them to be… but that with the love of friends, family, and God we can overcome even the hardest of times. I thank her for that.

Because Being You Is Enough.

“Don’t concern yourself with the opinions of those who judge you. That is placing on them an importance they do not have.” – Donna Lynn Hope

    I remember when I became a mom for the very first time. I was not only young….but totally oblivious to the fact that parenting doesn’t always work the way you have planned. I had done the classes…I had read some books…..I had it all planned out. Breastfeeding was beautiful. Breastfeeding was what everyone did. I was going to breastfeed. Done deal. End of story. 

    But that wasn’t the end…

    My daughter was born…. and after six weeks of her crying, me crying, and repeated weight loss, I was encouraged to supplement. A bottle? What do you mean? Why could my body not nourish my child the way it was made to do? In ways I felt like a failure, inadequate even….. and later that day as I walked through the store to purchase infant formula, embarrassment kicked in as I quickly picked up the case and practically ran to cash to avoid being seen. 

     When my second, and now fifth child came along..I once again found myself determined to breastfeed. Each time I chalked up my previous “failure” to being young and inexperienced…but this time, this time I was an experienced mom. This time I surely would be able to nurse my baby without the help of added formula…but each time ended with the same results. Each time a new sense of embarrassment crept in as I found myself once again walking in shame down the formula aisle. 

    But why?

     Why did I spend the first year of my childrens lives trying so desperately to hide their bottle from the public eye? Why did I feel proud to nurse my baby in public, yet once they had finished and were left unsatisfied was when I brought them to the car to give them their bottle? Why did I panic whenever someone asked me if I breastfed or if I saw some breast is best article on my news feed? Why did I feel that feeding my baby no matter what way was something to be shamed for?

   Recently as a nursing session with my son ended with an unsatisfied child as it normally does, I walked to the kitchen to prepare one of those plastic dreadful things that taunted me each time I walked by. As I sat down on the couch and cradled my baby in my arms to finish his feeding….. I looked back down at the same little boy who had just nursed at my breast and in that moment I realized something. HE didn’t look at me in shame. In fact… he looked up lovingly at me with the same big blue eyes with a bottle in his mouth, just as he had done on my breast.

   Wasn’t he who mattered?

    Wasn’t his happiness, his contentment, and his health my priority…not the people at the grocery store.  Wasn’t my success, my pride as a mother based on my love and my ability to raise a happy, healthy child…..not to impress the women at my playgroup. He accepted each nipple whether made from skin or plastic the exact same way……not to make me feel better…..not to prove to the world that I wasn’t a failure……but because he needed it and it nourished him. But because whether you can breastfeed or not….or whether you choose to breastfeed or not…your child has to eat to grow.

    As I continue to look into those very same eyes feeding after feeding and day after day, as I have continued to watch my son not only grow but thrive over the last amazing eight weeks, the stress…the hiding…..and the feelings of inadequacy has melted away. I am a mom. A mom that loves her children. I am no different, no less because of how my child receives his food needed to live. He loves me the same.

  Breastfeeding is beautiful……bottle feeding is beautiful.

  But being a happy, healthy, and confident mother…..is the most beautiful of all.