It’s no secret that mom guilt is my biggest struggle. That, essentially, is a large piece of what this blog is about. Every mom experiences it, and it comes in waves. But it can overwhelm me with how much guilt I feel on a regular basis. Today is no exception. I worked night shift last night and came home to be with Griffin as Sam went to work. It’s just the two of us until he goes down for a nap. That’s a tough day for me after being up all night at work and trying to keep up with my active little boy. Today, I didn’t keep up. I fully took on couch parenting for a couple of hours this morning as Griff played with his trucks and watched Mickey Mouse. I’d nap in 15-20 minute intervals so I could open my eyes to make a “vroom, vroom” sound on occasion or snuggle him in the recliner. After two hours of being a sofa sitter, I watched my little boy finally climb up on me and say “Up. Mama, up!” I reluctantly peeled myself off of the couch and muttered under my breath about how I wish his nap time was sooner. My little boy played so sweetly on his own for the most part, and patiently waited for his mama to genuinely act like his mama and spend time with him. So, I gulped my Spark down and off we went to eat lunch and take a ride in his Little Tikes truck. He loves to go see the “tructo” [tractors] that are diligently working on the sewer lines in our neighborhood. We go just about every morning to get our walk in and let him watch with fascination. I was engulfed with that familiar guilt as we sat on the curb and gazed at a dump truck and digger. He loves our morning walks and anytime he has the chance to experience something new. And I love watching that process. I am amazed at his heart and personality.
As I watched him have a sacred little boy moment of tractors and trucks, the pang of hurt hit me. These moments are what are so dear and I was wishing them away. Getting to watch him grow, learn, experience, and WANT to spend time with me is what motherhood is about. I’m humbled with the fact that I was chosen to be his mom. God hand picked me to be the one responsible for making sure he gets to learn about tractors, mind his manners, grow up healthy, and form a relationship with Christ. When I think about that responsibility alone, that’s when the guilt kicks in. Now, was it reasonable to be tired this morning and want to do a little couch parenting?… Yes. 12 hours on your feet with no sleep after you come home is hard. But it doesn’t change that piece of me that longs to always be there to be “his person”; to be his walking buddy, his boo boo kisser, to help him grow, shield him from mean kids in the future, to be the person to make sure he’s not a mean kid. It matters to me that I give him all that I have, even when I don’t feel like it. It guides my heart to make him always feel loved, wanted, and sought after for quality time.
I’ll be very transparent in this entry… My guilt comes from somewhere deep. I mentioned in one of my first posts that I had a hard time when we found out that we were expecting a baby during our engagement. The guilt that floods me stems from that. Sometimes I’m waiting for the sky to fall. How could I have reacted so poorly when what to come would be the greatest blessing I’d ever receive? On the day Griffin was born I cried tears of joy (obviously), but also tears of guilt and regret. I flooded God with apologies about how sorry I was for “lacking enthusiasm” upon learning of an unexpected pregnancy. I distinctly remember begging him: “God, if you let me keep him forever, I’ll never disappoint you as a parent. I’ll never devalue or take for granted this gift.” But the truth is, sometimes I do–not purposefully, of course. But mornings like today make me linger with repentance when I’m silently praying for him to play on his own or to nap earlier than usual. It happens if I lose my temper or wish away the tantrum stage. I long for clean floors and less laundry. But, I’m always reminded that those things will one day be gone… But so will sloppy toddler kisses and the “vroom” from his truck noises. I won’t have mornings to walk him in the wagon or evenings to watch him splash in the tub. He will learn to do his own laundry eventually, but the memories of high chair dinners and soaking shirts past his bibs will go with his new found chores. In those reminders, the guilt settles and I again plead with God for chance after chance to get it right and hold tight to my promise to never take this era of motherhood for granted.
In regards to learning that Griffin would join our family… I know deep down that I simply could not have known what joy he would bring. I had no idea about the heavy love you feel as a parent; the love that hits you each day when it sinks in when the tide of parenting reminds you of how you could love someone SO MUCH, and feel such obligation to be the best version of yourself… Not for you but for your children. No one prepared me (or could have) for how grateful your heart becomes when you have a child. I’m forever grateful for the immense love, but grateful for each day that makes you want to be better, makes you want God so much more because you know you’d do a much better job as a parent if He is the one holding the reigns.
Tomorrow is Good Friday, and this year my heart is with Mary. I relate to her in many ways… She too had an unexpected pregnancy. She had a hard time accepting God’s will and believing that she, too, was worthy to be a mother. I can’t imagine being in her shoes; knowing that God chose you to be the mother of Jesus. How compelling and humbling in the same breath. I wonder if Mary felt the mom guilt. I wonder if she questioned herself or longed to be more for Jesus… Of if she just knew that she was everything God said she’d be. She begged and pleaded with God too… To keep Him forever. She begged God for mercy as she watched Him carry a cross on His back for miles. I can’t fathom the pain of watching people ridicule and spit on your child, and eventually killing Him only to know deep down that it’s His CHOICE and His calling to save the world as a sacrifice. My heart would never be the same. And I think that guilt would’ve killed me… That I could do nothing. I think if I were her, I wouldve replayed every moment and pray that I valued and favored my time with Jesus. I wouldve prayed for God to fill my heart with His reminders that I was the exact parent Jesus needed. Grace, Gods abounding grace would be all that would save me. And it’s all that saved Mary. Was she perfect? Surely not, no one is. But God chose her to be the mother of Our Savior. And every moment that could’ve brought on guilt, I pray Mary’s heart was given mercy and she was filled with peace and confidence that only she could’ve been the chosen one. So I pray for the same thing for myself… That’s this ever evolving guilt as a mom is replaced with confidence and joy; that the moments of heavy love don’t knock me down but fill me with pride and comfort. It is necessary that we have moments of growth in parenthood, but to help us further glorify God in our own lives and our children’s lives… Not to make us question the role God selected us for. So I’ll leave you with this song that is a reflection of Jesus promises that she did everything she could’ve done, and His choice to take up the cross was for her as well.
house of stain 