On Being a Mom When You’re Not

Years ago, Mike and I decided not to have children. There was a copious amount of indecision, some math (when the kids enter college, I’ll be…), alternating months of trying (see indecision above), and, ultimately a decision.

Followed by several months of grieving, even though I was the primary decision-maker. This all happened while I was in a spectacularly crummy job, so I shed lots of tears in my gold Saturn coupe that year (the car – also a reason to mourn – I hated it!).

While I was driving and mourning, I did my best to wear out Sara Groves’ “The Other Side of Something” CD. If you are going through a difficult time, I would highly recommend this album (obviously). She’s a Minnesotan, too, so I love her automatically. :)

The song “Esther” helped me transition from mourning to acceptance. I used to say I would have a dozen children if money were no object. This song showed me that, without my own children, I had room for WAY more than a dozen children in my life. In fact, at the time, I already had more than a dozen.

The song tells a story about Esther and David. He was a soldier who died before they conceived any children. After he dies, she goes to Africa and falls in love with its children. Her life is devoted to caring for them there and raising help for them here. (Crying yet? I am!)

Here’s the chorus:

“Now Esther has 2.4 million children
She writes us and asks us to pray for them all

She’s compelled, she’s compelled by what she’s seen
And she tells us, she tells us do anything you can
To help, oh please help, there’s so much to do
And I’m just Esther”

Ohhhhhhh. It brings tears and inspires me every time. I looked for a YouTube link so you can listen, but couldn’t find one, so you’ll have to go to iTunes and check it out. (Other favorites from that album: The Boxer, Like a Skin, and a beautiful version of the classic hymn Come Thou Fount.)

Do I wish we’d had children of our own? I don’t know. I wonder if I’ll regret it. I know I won’t have the joy and torture of having my own children, things like nursing a wee one in the middle of the night, and early, cold, rainy Saturday mornings for pee-wee “soccer” practice. When I watch my little friends’ performances, games, races, etc., or help them learn to have fun, drive, love God, etc., I know the pride I feel is no where near what their parents’ feel. My life is easier, but shallower.

I’m OK with that. We would have had small children during Mike’s transplant. We would have elementary students now, while I’m going through cancer treatment. We might have teens without a mom. God would have provided everything we needed to get through, but it’s a lot easier to do Big Scary Medical without little hearts and minds at risk.

Several years ago, probably in the dentist’s waiting room, I read an article on how motherhood changed Felicity Huffman. It listed loads of positive effects, but what resonated with me was that, despite all of her successes, motherhood made her somewhat of an emotional wreck because she was always re-evaluating and second-guessing all of her mothering choices. I read an unrelated devotional on motherhood this morning that said “becoming a mother will leave an emotional wound so raw that she will forever be vulnerable” (that was a beautiful, moving, honoring description of motherhood – please check it out here and pass it on: http://stillnessofthemorning.wordpress.com/2013/05/12/motherhood/).

I know myself well enough that, as a mom, I would spend too much time on the re-evaluation and second-guessing merry-go-round. I spend a lot of time there just with my girls from church! Is there any mom NOT on this spinning wheel? All I can say to moms is that I see you do the absolute best with what you have at the time. Being low on information, wisdom, perspective, sleep, etc. means you don’t always make the best decision, but you can’t be perfect. So please give yourself grace and forgiveness and be encouraged by doing the best you can at the time. Kids are resilient and God is gracious and can cover every mistake you make.

Coming back from the rabbit trail…

If I had my own children, my little friends (who really aren’t so little any more) would just be my friend’s children or my children’s friends, and our relationship would be different. Recently, a friend told me her kids like me because I LISTEN to them. If I had my own kids talking incessantly, I sure wouldn’t be doing a lot of listening to others’ kids! ;) So I count that as a great blessing: having the bandwidth to hear my little friends means I can invest in their mental and spiritual selves and, hopefully, help increase their self-confidence. Which their parents do very well, I might add, but it’s good to get that from other adults, too.

To all of my young friends, I love you. I love listening to you. I love talking about God and spiritual things with you. I love the notes and photos and videos and jokes and awkward questions we share. I LOVE camping with you. I love your parents as your parents and as my friends. You will always be welcome in my heart and my home. This post and this day is for you and all the joy you bring into my life: Anna and Jacob. Zoe and Ainsley. Connor, Jack, and Matthew. Sam and Madison. Emily, Nathan, and Aiden. Kelli and Connor. Peter and Sarah. Natalie, Brady, and Abbie. Jackson and Montana. Brooke and Paige. Colton, Sierra, and Carmel. Hannah, Ines, Heidi, Jennifer, Katelyn, Marissa, Lauren, Sicilia. Stephanie, Abbe, Devon, Emilie, Rachel, Jenna, Kelsey, Mia, Miranda, Olivia, Sharayah. Katy. Natalie. Ashton. Alec and Evan. There are certainly more, so please forgive me if I forgot in this moment. Much love!

(photo from last summer: matching hairstyles with my niece)