Own It, Embrace It

I woke up this morning, the clock glaring 4:33 am in bright red as I stumbled up the stairs.  Behold, in front of me, a brand new carton of milk and a full package of hot dogs.  Both sitting on the counter just waiting to wish me a happy Friday morning.  Awesome.

Is it just me or do any of you other mommas feel like you walk around with a dirty haze of "mom guilt" hanging out over your heads like Pig Pen from Charlie Brown?  I left the milk and hot dogs out... now I have to pitch them both.

As I continued on with my morning I found myself dwelling on the guilt and the shame. Messy kitchen.  Forgot to do the laundry last night.  Mackenzie might have to wear a dirty uniform to school.  Need to buy new hot dogs for tonight's mummy hot dogs.

And then it dawned on me.  Umm, hello?  Mummy hot dogs?  Just the fact that, that was in the cards for tonight's dinner should erase the cloud of guilt from atop of my head.  And that clock?  It could have reflected something more human like 7:00 am.  The reason I was up this early?  Because my daughter has a gluten allergy and I wanted to make her cake pops so she doesn't miss out on the treats at her Halloween party this morning.

Mommas, Satan is the Father of Lies.  John 8:44 says, "There is no truth in him.  When he lies, he speaks his native language, for he is a liar and the father of lies."

This Father of Lies would love nothing more than to twist every beautiful part of motherhood and taint it with guilt and shame and ugliness. 

He wants to disguise all of the ways you sacrifice.  He wants to twist all of the big hearted momma things you do and make you feel like you aren't good enough.  That you'll never be enough for your husband and your babies. 

And that's such a load of baby poop.  I could have used another word, but hey, we're in the diaper changing stage of life so, you know...go with it. 

This morning, I propose we start fighting back.  Lets start speaking words of life and of truth to ourselves.  Start a list of all the ways you are a good mom. 

No.  A great mom.

You are amazing. 

You are hard working. 

You are worthy of this calling of momma and wife.

Proverbs 31:28-29 says, "Her children arise and call her blessed; her husband also and he praises her.  Many women do noble things but you surpass them all."

Dwell on that today.

You are not perfect.  There will be days of spoiled milk and salmonella poisoned hot dogs. 

Pitch em' and move on. 

Show yourself tons of grace.

Start writing out truth until you believe it. 

Record your birth story.  Be damn proud of the fact that you carried a baby and then brought him or her into this world.  Think of how you successfully made it through that newborn fight to breastfeed your little guy.  Remember all of the nights you cuddled your teething 6 month old and soothed all of her pains away.  Think back to that first birthday smash cake you worked so hard on.  You've got the messy faced pictures in your home to prove it.  Remember the first stitches that weren't your fault, but you were there to be a warrior for your kid. 

All of these time markers are here to stand as reminders that we are not run by fear or guilt or shame. The grocery store meltdowns don't even hold a candle to all of the ways you've been a boss at motherhood.

Own it.  Embrace it.  You were made for this.  Love you mommas!

My Dirty Little Secret

“What’s wrong with her?  Why won’t she play with the toys I gave her?”  I asked this question to my momma as we stared at my peacefully sleeping three-week-old. 

My three week old.

Go ahead and laugh.  It is funny. 

Friends, I was absolutely clueless as a brand new momma.  Now, to be fair, at the time that I asked this question I was running on next to no sleep. I was also muddling through the first signs of what would eventually become full blown postpartum depression.  Physically and emotionally I was a giant mess by week three of motherhood and I can't give much credibility to my deduction skills at that point. 

So maybe, just maybe, there was a little more going on behind all of that naivety. But none the less, if you’ve been the momma of a newborn for much time at all then you know -- week old babies do not play. 

They sleep.  Or they don’t sleep (depending on the type of baby you got). They poop. They hiccup. They concoct funny little expressions with their faces as their eyes adjust to the light of the new world around them. They cry.  And then they sleep some more. 

 

 

As far as my philosophy of play is concerned, I’ve come a long way in my six years since becoming a momma.

I've learned that it is perfectly acceptable for a pig tail sporting toddler to wear the same tulle embellished princess dress out of the house for a month straight...and sleeping in that dress is no exception.  Pizza and juice stains are okay too.  Eye rolling from mom is not allowed because after all, she is a princess.  Bless it.

I've learned that little boys love everythiiing on wheels.  And that includes the neighborhood garbage truck.  And it will become a Wednesday morning ritual to sit on the front porch and cheer for that garbage truck while it drives and makes stops along the way.  I've learned that I too am to share in that excitement.



I've learned that building living room forts may be the next best thing to waking up on Christmas morning.  That hide and seek is always better when The Tickle Monster is invited to play along too.  And, I've learned that this momma hates (I mean despises) making little toy figurines talk. 

Anyone else with me on that last one?  For years I have driven myself crazy with guilt over this dirty little secret.  If I'm really being honest, I would prefer to visit the dentist over being forced to sit on my living room floor and make Barbie Big Boobs talk in a sing-songy voice.  First, there's an inkling of jealousy over her well-endowed figure.  Then there's the loss of adult dignity I feel when I'm forced to enter Barbie's make believe world.  I've often found myself wondering, "What kind of momma doesn't like to play with her kids?"

Around the time of my daughter's second birthday I decided enough was enough.  If I could accept an eccentric princess to accompany me on my trips to Target each week, then she could certainly expand her idea of "play" for me as well, right? 

And so, I began to invite her into my world.  The world of making banana muffins for our new neighbors, while teaching her to crack eggs and also that new people love to feel welcomed.

The world of running errands to Home Depot where we buy flowers and then plant them together in our yard as a surprise for daddy. 

The world of gardening and squealing together over our first harvest of squash and the signs of our first budding tomatoes. 

The world where September 1st is always Happy Fall Day and we do everything Autumn related including shopping for new fall boots and smelling every new scent at the Yankee Candle Store together.

 

 

These are the things that I love and these are the things I am teaching my babies to love as well.  These are the ways I am embracing who I was before I became a momma while I invite them to embrace and love this girl too. 

You see Mommas, I don't think playing with our little ones has to mean we are reduced to yoga pants and messy buns while sitting cross legged on the playroom floor, watching the clock and counting down the minutes until daddy walks in the door to be our saving grace. 

I don't believe God's vision of flourishing in motherhood was ever that we should be made to feel less ourselves simply because we are in a season of nurturing and cultivating relationships with our children.

What if we expanded our vision of play to include the identity of who we were before we added the role of momma?  What if we chose to introduce our little ones to that girl and invited them to love her too? 

I bet they would embrace her for all that she was and all that she is and all that she is becoming.  I bet they would want to be just like her.  


Photo taken by Jessica Fox with Pix-Elated Photography.

When you became a momma, you didn't lose your identity.  You simply expanded that identity and added a whole lot of beauty to it.  I say this because maybe some of you are like me.  Maybe some of you have felt lost in the midst of your role as "momma".  But that's just so far from the truth.

You are still you.  Now you just have the princess and super hero sidekicks to tag along with you.  You are still the girl who loves long distance running. You are still the one who loves theatre and dreams of some day wowing an audience again.  You are still the artist, the singer, the writer, the yoga teacher, the lawyer, the animal lover.

No, Thomas the train did not ride in and take over.  Barbie's voice has not silenced yours.  Choose to believe that you are more you than you ever have been and invite those babies of yours into the world of loving that girl too.

Shattering the Silence

I knew the moment I saw red that I was losing our baby.  In our tiny upstairs bathroom holding the crumpled up tissue in disbelief, I thought, “It’s happening again.”  On the side of the tub, I sat there. Numb. Embarrassed and ashamed for all of the excitement and hopefulness I had begun to store up.  Feeling a sense of betrayal by my own body.  Amazed by my own naivety for believing that I had fulfilled my one miscarriage quota.  Apparently, that’s not a thing.  But for some reason I had thought it would only happen once.

I remember the first time it happened. In a text my momma wrote, “We don’t miscarry.  We just don't lose babies.”  Little did we both know that later that week I would be watching life drain down our tub in clots of deep burgundy.  

I have battled heart and mind over whether to share our family's recent loss on this blog.  I have hesitated to write because I don't want my sharing to come off as a cry for pity.  Please hear me -- that is not what this is. 

We have grieved.  I have cried my weight in tears. And we have had the most precious family and friends come around us and love us in amazing ways. We are healing. And we believe in the deepest places of our hearts that God is good and that He is for us. 

I share because the past month has given me a renewed and profound awareness of just how emotionally and physically tolling the road to motherhood can be for so many women.  It is a road that is often more bitter than sweet.  This is the road I have found myself walking as of late and it is one that so many of my friends are currently walking as well. 

I've heard it said that silence speaks louder than words.  And in many cases staying quiet can be a beautiful thing.  But by way of journeying through infertility, miscarriage, infant loss, antepartum and postpartum depression and even the road of adoption,  I think silence does speak louder than words and not in a good way. 

Silence screams shame.  Silence tells us as that our feelings of intense sorrow are unmerited.  Silence tells us to move quickly on from the loss of life and the broken dreams we've had to bury.  Silence convinces us that we are alone in our grief. 

And here's the thing -- we can choose to remain silent with our stories.  It is our right.  But I question if that is our calling. 

I could have chosen to remain silent about my nearly two year battle with postpartum depression.  And heaven help me, I have dug my feet in, not desiring to share about our miscarriage this time around.  But staying silent is exactly what the enemy wants.  If I cower in pain and refuse to emerge from the shadow of the darkness of my sorrow, then Satan gets victory over a part of my story. 

And I will not give him that satisfaction.  I just won't.

Jesus wins in my story.  Jesus brings the healing and the redemption and life after death. Jesus.

Take that Satan.

So I can not sit silent.  I will not.  I will continue to share my heart and my story -- even the most broken pieces.  Because if my story helps just one other hurting woman to know she is not alone in her walk of motherhood, then it is worth it.  One hundred times over.

The irony about my motherhood journey is that there was a point in time where I was convinced I only wanted one baby.  I said I was done.  That my heart was closed off to loving any more.  A journey down a really tough road of postpartum depression had all but crippled me to even the thought of bringing another child into this world. 

And here I am, 6 years after holding my very first baby.  I am the momma of not just one but of four babies.  Four beautiful, precious babies that God has blessed me with.  Two of whom I have the privilege holding now and two more that I will someday spend eternity with.  Now if that isn't redemption and the power of Jesus over a broken story of postpartum depression then I don't know what is. 

If there is any one thing that I have learned through my journey it is that there are hurting women everywhere.  And so many of them are just existing in silence. 

Crying invisible tears under the bedroom covers because the thought of just one more negative test is unbearable.  Because all of the poking and prodding and needles and money thrown towards a dream just went up in smoke.  There's the momma like me who is staring at red and holding that crumbled up tissue in disbelief on the bathroom floor.  And the one who is living in shame because motherhood wasn't all she thought it would be and she just doesn't know how to find joy in the midst of all the sadness.

October is Infant & Pregnancy Loss Awareness month.  It is a month where we honor our babies and we shatter the silence. 

I believe the best way we can do this is to honor life.  We can honor life by sharing our stories openly and by loving others well.

Look around you and find a momma who is hurting. 

Place a card in the mail for someone who is missing her baby today.  Tell her she isn't alone because you miss your baby too.

Send a note to the friend you know is desperate to hold a first baby and just hasn't experienced the fulfillment of that dream yet.  Tell her that you too have walked that hard road.

Show up with coffee for the momma who you know is just struggling to put one foot in front of the other.  And then watch her newborn so she can take a shower.  And don't take no for an answer.

Be aware of those who are hurting today.  Take the hand of another woman and break the code of silence.  Each of us is walking a unique and hard journey.  Let's make sure we aren't walking that road alone. 

This is how we heal. By shattering the silence and the stigma and the shame and by choosing to look for and into the eyes of those who are hurting.  By sharing our own hurt and our own broken stories.  And then by sharing the redemption.

My greatest prayer is that through my story, my babies will be honored.  By the words of life I choose to speak on their behalf. 

Mackenzie, Finley, Levi & Asher, I love you.  You are my greatest gifts and I am so honored that God chose me for you.

*Custom Bracelet from Rachelleisms Etsy Shop