There have been times I've been called a "super mom" but I have to admit that even though my heart may glow at the compliment, it's lost on why I've received it. Maybe it's because I have twin babies, a husband who travels for work while I hold down the fort, a house that usually appears to be clean, and I occasionally have my act together enough to host people- sometimes with coffee and freshly baked snacks included. But that's just the surface and that's certainly not everyday. Most days are filled with doubts, constant lies to battle, choices to make, and a deep loneliness.
So here is my confession: my heart aches so deeply for companionship and I constantly feel I am failing. Most days I feel I am mothering all on my own- and even more so when Matt travels. And it's a battlefield I wasn't prepared to step out onto.
You see, before becoming pregnant I thought that surely I was prepared. I had a Bachelors in Child Development, I had over a decade of experience taking care of children, I had read books, I had watched other parents. I had visions of rocking a sweet infant in my arms, nursing him or her sweetly (and easily I might add), having time and patience and grace to be there every step to guide and nurture. Then we found out we were having twins and that vision crumbled, and to be honest, I mourned it deeply. I knew there would be struggles with juggling two littles at the same time so they felt loved and secure, nursing two little ones (and I never knew nursing could be so hard), and being in two places at once to guide and nurture them. And I knew patience and grace were struggles I wasn't prepared to face. Nine months dragged on longer than I could have imagined and then suddenly those cries filled the operating room and tears were streaming down my face. I thought I loved my babies before, but then I heard those cries, and suddenly I realized I loved them fiercely. Protectively. Defensively. I wasn't prepared for that. And I wasn't prepared for the instant self-doubt, fears, and need for help (both emotionally and physically).
Maybe people might think my days are filled with making nutritious homemade meals, silly art projects, happy babies, grace-filled guidance of young minds and hearts, and confidence in my mothering and self. But the reality is different. Reality is constantly battling lies and self-doubt.
She always has her hair and make-up and clothes so stylish. I can't seem to get out of my pjs and yoga pants.
She always makes such healthy meals. Why can't I get my act together for dinner time?
Her house is so stylish. I can't even seem to put a flower or candle arrangement together.
She has such grace for everyone she speaks to, especially her children. Why is my heart so troubled?
No one likes me. I never get invited to things and when I invite others it falls apart. I never hear from anyone.
Lies. All lies. But this "super mom" feels anything but super. And I fight to keep the lies from taking root in my heart and taking over.
Yes, I struggle to find clothes that are appropriate for a 31-year-old body who has had two babies via c-section and accept that my tummy is never going to look like it used to. But I fight to find beauty in that. This body grew and nurtured two precious babies and that is a blessing I wouldn't give back. Someday I might find my style, learn how to accessorize, figure out my makeup and hair, and feel confident again.
Yes, I love to cook and bake. And someday I will have time to do that again. But for now I simply need to find a way to feed my family. It doesn't have to be elaborate. It doesn't need to be "instagram worthy." It just needs to fill tummies. And yes, sometimes my babies will cry at the kitchen gate because they are hungry and don't yet understand momma is working on getting food ready- they just know they are hungry.
Yes, my house isn't ever going to be on a blog for style and I am not a crafty or artsy person. But keeping my house tidy is something which is at my very core. It keeps me sane and happy to have a house not buried in clutter. It may not be super clean but it's tidy and that is okay. One of these weeks I will deep clean it. But until then little hands will mark up my windows, spill food on the floor, track crumbs across the rugs, and dust bunnies will gather behind my couch. I don't much care if someone else's house is tidy when I visit, but I do need my house to be that way.
Yes, I lack in grace and patience. But I can grow in these areas. With His help and leaning on Him every day, all day, I can grow. Perhaps one day there will be a mentor to help encourage me and remind me and teach me, but for now I spend each day throwing myself in His arms as I struggle, mess up, and crumble in exhaustion. He will remind me to stop my tongue, halt my actions, and take the time to act in love, speak softly, and apologize. But it's a journey and not a cure. It will take me time. And most importantly, this perfectionist needs grace and patience for herself.
This last lie is the hardest to fight. The lie that no one likes me; that I am all alone in this journey of motherhood. I have to remind myself that others are busy in their own journey of motherhood. I have to tell myself that it's okay if someone doesn't feel the same connection of friendship; that it's normal to not connect with everyone. I have to tell myself that I need to keep reaching out even if I feel rejected because secluding myself isn't going to resolve anything. But to be real, this lie is the one that has taken its deepest hold of my heart and is the hardest to fight. I miss friendship. Deep friendship. The kind where you can call and she rushes over to lend a hand or a hug. The kind where I don't care if she scrubs a toilet, changes diapers, washes my dishes, knows where I keep my pots and pans, helps herself in my kitchen to whip up something to eat, the kind you can ugly-cry with. The kind of friend I know I want be to another.
Mothering on my own is hard. My family lives far away and I can't call on my mom to rush over and help. And there are so many decisions I have to make that I doubt: do I push their naps out, go out if one of them has a runny nose, take them to the doctor or wait it out, feed them this or that, let them cry or see if they can work it out in a few minutes, and on and on. From big things to simple things, I doubt every decision. I was never prepared for that lack of confidence. And when Matt travels it becomes even harder because he's not here at night to help me juggle it all and reassure me.
Some will tell me this is what I signed up for: a husband who travels to support his family, juggling two babies, living far from family. But I didn't know how hard it would be. How lonely it would be. And so when I hear someone call me super-mom I shrug it off because I don't think a super-mom would struggle with as much as I do. But then I think, I can't be the only mom who feels this way, right? There are other moms out there who question who they are and what to do. Moms who compare themselves to other moms and feel they are lacking. Moms who feel desperate for community; who feel so alone in this journey. So to those moms who maybe feel like I do: you are not alone, you are loved, you can do this. He calls us to look to Him and band together. So as I try to encourage myself, I encourage you too. Reach out, trust Him, fight the lies, and maybe then we can become the best super-moms He wants us to be.
XOXO,
Staci
