Motherhood

Yesterday was such a fantastic day.

Ben and I went to (separate) counseling sessions at our church last night. It’s something we used to do pretty regularly when we lived in Colorado, but haven’t since we moved to Texas almost six years ago. After a couple of years of feeling less-than-satisfied with our marriage – not that it was bad, we just knew it could be better – we finally decided it was time.

Um, it was amazing.

There were three big issues that I went in wanting to discuss, and that’s exactly what we did in my session. I feel like we really got to the root of the problems, and I’m confident that both Ben and I are going to notice some big changes pretty much right away.

I’ll spare you all the gory details, but I did want to fill you in on the final concern I addressed last night because I suspect what I learned isn’t just a lesson for me, but for many, many women – and maybe some men.

Here’s my public confession, for all the world to see:

I love my baby. I HATE being a mom.

I know, I know. It’s kind of intense. Maybe even a little shocking. But ladies, let’s be real honest with ourselves for just a moment: is there any part of you – any so-minuscule-it’s-easy-to-ignore part of you – that can empathize?

If not, well, that’s great! Everyone struggles with different things, and if this isn’t yours, then fantastic.

But if so….

Here’s the question I was asked last night in response to that statement: What is it that you REALLY hate? Because this isn’t really about being a mom; it’s about something deeper. I knew the answer almost before the end of the question:

I hate the expectations.

I hate – and I mean really, really loathe – the idea, perpetuated in mother-to-another conversations that happen on playgrounds and in small groups and Mommy & Me playdates and MOPS meetings and chance encounters, that when you become a mother, you’re supposed to feel ___________, or act __________, or be __________, or do ___________. It’s not always explicitly stated, but the insinuation is there.

I hate the Oh, you just wait ____ and the You’re going to wish you _____ statements that just get tossed out casually, as if what is true for one person is automatically true for everyone else.

You know what statements like that do? They plant seeds of self doubt. When we insinuate with our body language or tone of voice, or think we’re being subtle with hints when really, we know we’re just using our words to poke at, or even outright tell a woman that she’s supposed to think/feel/act/be/do ________ and she doesn’t, she uses that against herself. She starts to believe she’s abnormal, that there’s something wrong with her because she isn’t the same as “everyone” else.

My experience of motherhood – and honestly, of being a woman; maybe even of being human – is that there is an enormous, soul-crushing, life-sucking pressure to conform, to be like everyone else, to keep up, to be something other than who you really are.

People, it’s a LIE.

The ONLY person you need to be is yourself. You know why you’re not comfortable in your skin? Because it’s not your skin you’re trying to be comfortable in. You’re trying to fit into someone else’s. Or maybe you’re trying to fit into someone else’s idea about what your skin should be. Maybe you’re trying to fit into your own ideas about your skin. Regardless, the root of all of that is buying into false expectations. You’ve bought into the lie that you’re supposed to ______________ (be skinny/get married/have children/keep your house clean/put your kids in sports/wear trendy clothes/spend more than you can really afford) in order to be happy, or to feel fulfilled, or to have worth as a person.

You guys, we have GOT to start being honest. We have to be honest with ourselves about who we are, and we have to quit being ashamed of it so that we can be honest in front of others.

For me, it’s about holding on to my faith. Look, telling you this is uncomfortable for me, but here I am, in the middle of this post about being honest about who we are, and if I’m going to talk about it, I have to be prepared to walk it out. So last night I confronted these lies with what I believe is the truth:

There’s only one standard I need to listen to, and it wasn’t created by man. The only skin I have to fit into is the skin that was created for me by the One who knit me together in my mother’s womb.

When I focus on that, it’s so much easier to let go of all the expectations that I’ve allowed others to put on me.

I made a decision last night that I’m done. I’m done with trying to fit in by trying to force myself to feel something I don’t. I’m done with feeling guilty over not finding motherhood particularly fulfilling right now. I’m done with feeling like a failure because my house is cluttered. I’ve got stuff to work on, but so do all of us. My faults don’t devalue me as a human being; they just make me human. I’m a square peg, I’m never going to fit into a round hole, and whether others accept that about me or not doesn’t matter because I’ve accepted it for myself.

So, whose skin are you going to wear today? When you go pick up your kids from school and you find yourself in a conversation with other parents, whose words are you going to allow to come out of your mouth? Who are you going to be when the sun sets this evening?

For better or for worse, I’m going to be me. I was made to be me. And you were made to be you.

Please, please, please – please feel free to be you.