What Does It Feel Like To Be A Mom?

I love my husband for a million reasons, but particularly because this is the question he asked me on a date a couple of weeks ago. I answered him, but after sitting in church on Mother's Day and listening to another mother talk about her jouney in and through Motherhood, I decided I needed to write out my story.

Let me begin by saying that when I saw the two lines on the pregnancy test, I was not excited. I cried. I had been married for five months and never had thought seriously about children. In theory I figured maybe someday we would begin to discuss children. While dating we talked about parenting. The truth was that I was realistic about what it meant to be a parent and I knew that my life would never be the same again. I was selfish and while I did not have great parenting examples, I just knew that there was going to be a lot of sacrifice. As I write this now, I think I knew that I was going to sacrifice the attention of my husband which I desperately did not want to share. He was thrilled, but he was naive and I knew that. We talked a lot about what life would be like. A thing that I still love about "us". We talk...a lot. And we talk transparently. So I shared with him that I never wanted him to love our children more than he loved me. I knew it came from a place of wanting to be a priority in his life because I never had felt like I was a priority in anyone else's life.

While I am on the brink of having three children, I want to focus on that first one. The one who made me a mom. The one who is shaping and molding me still...every...single...day. I remember sitting on the side of our bed on June 18, 2003 and looking at the bassinet that was set up. Because my little one was laying straight across (transverse) I was scheduled to have a C-Section. I was actually quite all right with this as it meant I would avoid labor and that we were able to pack our bags and plan our "vacation" to the hospital. As I sat on the side of the bed, in my thoughts, I told myself life would never be the same again. When I walked back into this room, I would be responsible for another human being. I would not be allowed to be selfish. And as I write that it seems strange, because in no way did I feel bonded to this baby. (Yes, I admitted that.) I have since learned that mothers bond with their children at different stages and I did not bond with mine until....I'm not sure when. My guess is she was about three weeks old. But it was not while I was pregnant. Even when they set her on me in the operating room...there was not an emotional connection. I was overwhelmed. Not depressed, but moreso like a deer in headlights. I had not read any books. I did not have the right gear. I had no clue what nursing pads were. Looking back I smile, but I also want to take that young mother in my arms and hug her and tell her how proud I am of her.

It did take a few weeks, but in those few weeks I transformed. And this is where I answer the question of what it feels like. Motherhood feels like you get turned inside out. I have never felt so helpless in my whole life. The first time she got sick, I promised her that once she could talk and tell me what was wrong that I would never tell her to be quiet. She is almost eight and as she gets off the bus crying telling about hurt feelings, I wish there was a perscription that I could fill to make the hurt go away. I thought the helplessness of infancy would fade, but it doesn't. Being a mother makes you more raw than you ever thought possible. I have never felt more passionate about anything in my life. I have never taken anything more seriously than I take mothering.

Over the past 48 hours, I have really tried to digest my thoughts knowing that putting my inmost thoughts on parenting into print could change people's perception of me. From those first few weeks of being a new mom until now, there is not a moment that goes by that I am not thinking about the big picture. My own mother accusses me of being too rigid. I know that others think I am inflexible. From the beginning, I have always started as I meant to go. When others think I am sweating the small stuff, I can tell you exactly why I am making a big deal about something. In general, my mind never really stops, but when it comes to parenting, I am always processing and analyzing how and why I am doing things the way that I am.

Now, I know that there could be curveballs along the way. I am completely prepared for rebellion. I have tried my best to explain why we do things the way we do. We have fun in our home, but my kids know where the limits are. They are clear. They are defined. My children know that perfection is unattainable and that I am not perfect. There is a tremendous amount of grace in our home. When it comes to rules, it is about building character. I don't want my children to just be rule followers.

One of the questions the speaker posed in church Sunday was "What is your greatest passion for your children?" That is easy for me to answer. I think about it everyday. It isn't perfect grades, popularity, athletic success. Those are just things that will trick them into thinking that is who they are. I want them to love God and find their identity in Him...not school, sports, or clothes.

I do ask myself often if I am too rigid. I ask myself if I am expecting too much of them. I know that I tend to not mother in community because most people around me don't parent the same way that I do. When we are around other families I am having to remind my children that they don't have the same mother that other children do. I won't lower my standards in order to make other parents feel better. I know that I have lost friendships over parenting style. As I stated in the beginning, it is something that I take so seriously.

If it has not come across yet, let me state that I consistently apologize to my children. I am quick to admit mistakes. I will always explain why we do something. I remind them daily that they are loved unconditionally. They know that they are not responsible for my happiness. I want to foster independence and communication. If they disagree with me they are ABSOLUTELY permitted to talk it out in a respectful way. I will always listen to them before formulating a response. I want them to feel heard. If they don't feel heard now, they will not talk to me when they are teenagers. I know they will be things that they think I did wrong, but maybe, just maybe they will say I did more things right. They know they are a priority in my life. They know that my/our marriage comes first because they will grow up and leave. They know that I am staying home and that we may not have all of the stuff that other families have, but that it would require a sacrifice on their part if I was to work outside of the home. They may not choose to stay home with their children. I wonder if I will have issue with the way they parent. Will they want to even have children of their own? These are the questions that run through my head constantly. All I know if that I feel passionate about motherhood. While I did not choose it to begin with, I look at my firstborn and beam knowing she is the one who made me a mother. She is without a doubt my hardest child, but the middle one is quickly gaining ground. She is very similar to me which should prove for some interesting teenage years. And soon I will have a son. And he will challenge me in many other ways. My mellow, calm house will soon be turned upside down. In the midst of that I can already see God working on me. Breaking my judgemental heart when it comes to parenting. I am still not even that far down the parenting road. I can't wait to look back on this in eight years and see if I regret what I have written or if I will reiterate what I have written. Either way, I will know that I have thought through what I have written and will be able to say with confidence that I was doing exactly what I hoped a mother had done for me at this point in my life.

Playing Catch Up

My goodness where did two months go? For that matter where did four months go? It is hard to believe that is how long we have been Washington residents. But here we are...in the midst of the Christmas season and getting ready to make a whole batch of new memories.

We already got to experience our first snow storm and it was glorious! I'm sure it was made better by the fact that the snow only lasted five days, but those five days were awesome. Snow clothes and sledding and hot chocolate. People keep asking if I am missing San Diego and in all honesty, I am not. That isn't to say I am not "homesick" for a thing or two, but when I step back and look at life, I choose here. Right now. Today. This is life. School buses and playing with the neighbors. Random drop in by friends to pick up crock pots. Phone calls from the school to say thank you. Life is definitely slower here and different. There is almost an innocence that catches me off guard at times. Things aren't overdone. Expectations aren't sky high. No one seems to need to impress anyone else. Oh, I am sure there are those circles, but they are not the majority. I love that we made this change...that God saw fit to bring our family here. I will always love CA, because it is where most of my memories are. But as the new memories start to form, I sometimes have a sense of deja vu...like this is home and where I was suppose to be all along.

Scars

I realized tonight that I have allowed myself to look forward. I have maybe fooled myself into a false sense of security as I have done before, but it has been...peaceful. Possibly I should not have watched Dateline tonight, but I have a habit of looking back and wanting to see if I have grown or changed from life circumstances. What I am realizing is that in the few short years we lived in San Diego, I was dealing with trauma. Some may argue it was somewhat self-inflicted - my house didn't burn down and my daughter was not murdered. But...it sure felt like it. It felt like I lost my home and I certainly could imagine what it felt like to lose a daughter.

In at two hour Dateline tonight - that I chose to watch - I realized that even after moving 1200 miles away, the scars will always remain. Rehashing the events of Chelsea King's disappearance and murder reduces me tears all over again. The violation that I still feel, miles away, is as fresh as it was on February 25th. The anger is overwhelming and I am completely unable to move on. Maybe that is not true. I have tried to move on, but the fear is real.

The reminder that both Chelsea and Amber Dubois deaths were preventable outrages me. Are my children safe? Who can I trust? These are questions I have not thought about or asked for the last two months. But as I watch the story recreated tonight, I remember those emotions and those days. I can still hear the helicopters circling our neighborhood and remember the gray gloomy skies with a foreboding sense of doom. Oh how I wish that I could go back to before that day. Or maybe I would wish to go back before the fires. All I know is that the more we have...or maybe it is the more we cherish what we have, the more we have to lose. Which then reminds me that none of it is really mine. I suppose that is a whole 'nother blog post. I just know that my scars will go with me wherever I am. I can try to ignore them, but I think sometimes - at least for me - it is beneficial to remember them. I can't help but look at my little girls and think of Kelly King tucking Chelsea in when she was seven. What if I only have ten more years with my little girl? I want to cherish and savor that time. I don't want to spend it fearing the what if. And that is just maybe the point where my scar rips open - because I don't know how to escape that.

Coaching

I had the incredible privilege of getting to travel cross country with my husband...on different flights. As crazy as it sounds, it was PERFECT. I didn't have to sit next to him while he watched The Green Zone and he didn't get to interrupt me 27 times to watch a certain scene. He also did get to distract me while I was engrossed in my books. That is right...I said books. I read one on the way there and one on the way back. Cover to cover...that my friends is L-U-X-U-A-R-Y.

Both books were fantastic, but the one I read yesterday...and my friends on Facebook will have already seen a post on this...was incredible. Remember Why You Play by David Thomas was one of the most spectacular books I have read in a long time. I read a lot...mostly fiction. Most of the books make me think...I'm not one for a tidy ending. I like to wrestle with the content a bit. Every now and then I will pick up a non-fiction book. I have certain topics that I am "obsessed" with and Texas high school football may be one of them.

Most Sundays, we head to the Christian bookstore to hang out, check out stuff and let the girls play for a bit. A couple of weeks ago I came across this book and after reading the back cover thought about buying it. Knowing that I was heading off on my trip I purchased it on my Kindle (sorry Family Christian Bookstore) and literally read it "cover to cover".

As in any book about coaching or athletics, there are many inspirational quotes and motivational moments. My greatest take away wasn't about athletics at all. The take away was in how a man who coaches football in Texas -yes, that needs to be qualified - could be teaching his players that life is not just about football. In fact, he is/was far more concerned about the character of his players and the way in which they conducted themselves on and off the field than he was about how they played the game. And he was successful...incredibly successful. At one point in the book, one of his star players takes a very late hit by the opposing team. In the heat of the moment, the player got up and shouted at the other player - who was clearly in the wrong. Before the penalty flag could be dropped, Coach Hogan shouted to his star player to go to the locker room. Not only was he out of the game, but he was to leave the field. His philosophy is that whether you are in the right or the wrong, you have a decision to make in how you are going to react and if you are going to play for him, you are going to have class. That means getting up after a late hit and saying, "Wow, that really hurt" or "God Bless You for that". But having that reaction means deciding long in advance how you are going to deal with the situations that are going to require you to react counter to what your gut would tell you.

The other take away - which is alluded to above - it to remember why you are doing what you are doing. Yes, Coach Hogan wants to win football games, but more than that he wants his players to develop into fathers, employees and men who have character. His eye is on the greater purpose.

As I came home from my trip, I knew I was walking into a situation that would certainly test capability to react with class - my mom was here to take care of the girls. While I love the woman who gave birth to me, she can sure push my buttons. In addition, I was coming home just in time to say goodbye to my husband as he was leaving on a long stretch of travel for work. When he isn't home, I can get a little cranky as a mom. So I have been challenged to remember that the goal is not about getting my children to do everything I ask them to do - the goal is to teach them about humility and grace and compassion. Those things do not come naturally for me. I want to remember in the mundane and tedious tasks of day to day living that it isn't about short term goals, but about long term goals. Yes, in parenting there are those small goals that we have in mind in regards to grades or chores...but the purpose is to teach our children how to be adults that are humble and graceful and compassionate. When they succeed, I want them to be proud, but also realize that God has given them each unique gifts. When they fail or fall short, I want to model to them that I still love them and that while I may be disappointed, I am still their biggest fan. When they see others hurting, I want them to remember how they have been treated while hurting. I don't want them to simply feel sorry for someone. I want them to come alongside the person who is hurting and hold that person up - physically or emotionally.

Walking into work today - OK...downstairs to start breakfast - I had a renewed sense of purpose. As parents we are called to one of the most incredible jobs ever in raising our children. In many ways we are coaching them on how to be successful adults. I want to take that call seriously and remember why I play...remember why I am doing what I do every.single.day.

Contentment

In spite of having about six different drafts of posts, this is the first one in a month that is going to actually make it...at least I hope so. I keep thinking about what the last year has held and as much as it hurt and confused me to not quite get or see what God's bigger plan was, now that I am here...seemingly in the place God wants me/us...I think I might go through it all over again.

Tonight was our Back To School night and as I sat in my daughter's chair and listened to what the first two weeks of school held and what the next thirty six would hold, I was amazed. I was amazed to see how different each state runs its educational programs. But then I was reminded that it is more about what is valued and the state of Washington clearly values education. I have been in awe of where the bar is set for second graders but also excited to see my little girl soar above that bar.

As Mike and I were talking about Back To School night and sharing our impressions, he told me that he had heard a report that Washington had the highest SAT scores in the nation. I suppose that is impressive - it is - but an education is more than how you do on a standardized test. What I am seeing in the classroom are lifelong skills. Expository writing. Persuasive writing. Giving your story a voice. Whaaaaaaaat? In second grade? Putting together a PowerPoint deck. Inserting graphics into your slide show. Um...do I even know how to do that? I am so excited for the possibilities that lie ahead. I don't know that the teachers here are better than California, but I do know that they are valued and equipped better.

As I listened to my girls Skyping with their grandparents last week, Mike and I had a moment. My mom was asking if they wanted to come and visit and if the girls missed her. Grace quickly responded, "Maybe next summer Nana. We really like it in Seattle. It is really, really fun." Our family is SO content here. I know contentment can become a bad thing, but for right now, it is the peace that passes understanding. It is the complete assurance that we are exactly where we are suppose to be. And if I had to go through the last all over again to get to where we are right now...I think I would do it.

Looking Forward

Even though I will be leaving San Diego in less than 10 hours, I feel like I need to at least chronicle everything going through my head and heart at this time. I can pinpoint a handful of people that I will dearly miss, but for the most part I am excited and relieved that this chapter of life is coming to a close. I can't put my finger on it, but it was a hard few years. After opening up a bottle of wine and discussing with my other half, we rehashed what worked and what didn't about living in San Diego. It amuses me that as often as people comment on the inclement weather in Seattle, they comment on the "blissful" weather in San Diego. For the record...I am not a fan of San Diego weather. I am excited about seasons and green and weather. I promise to check in six months from now and let you know if my thoughts have changed, but I just feel like I have been looking forward to leaving for awhile now. Like I said, I am going to miss a few special girls. I feel like my time with them was short, but I also feel like they are life long friendships that will never fade.

So as I/we look forward to this next chapter, I don't want to lose sight of all that I have learned from being here...and I have learned a lot. In no way was coming here a mistake. Who I have become because of being in San Diego is...a different person than who I was before. It sounds so corny and yet, I have learned a lot of very hard lessons while here. God has pruned me, shaped me, pounded me from a lot of sides. I look back and smile knowing that even a year ago, I did not possess a fourth of the patience I have now...and I don't know how patient I am even now. But I do know that I have let go of a tremendous amount of control because I realized that I truly don't have any. And as crazy as it sounds, there is a tremendous amount of comfort in that. There is comfort also in knowing that we prayed long and hard and that at times we (I noticed that I went from I to we) doubted that we were even being heard. The uncertainty and angst of feeling out of place here became unbearable at times, but looking back (got to love hindsight) we now know that our prayers were heard. We are actually thanking God for the jobs that Mike did not get and overwhelmed by the job that he did get. We are amazed at the people who have come into our lives over the past month and can see clearly that He has placed every single one of them in our lives. Our faith was so small and His provision was so big. I am looking forward to where we are going, but I promise to never forget where we have come from. I am different. My husband is different. Our faith is different. Our perspectives are different. And I am looking forward to what Seattle/Bellevue has to teach me.

Baggage

In the midst of packing literally baggage, it is amazing what types of emotional baggage come to the surface. One can't help but sift through a lifetime of memories while putting things into boxes. That I can deal with for the most part. My issues seem to surface when I try as hard as I can to not let the chaos of moving impact my little ones. I'm trying to keep life as normal as possible for them while life is anything but normal. Fortunately they have both been in camp for these last two weeks, which has helped both them and us. They have been having fun and learning, but also coming home to a drastically different home everyday. Yesterday, they arrived to see thier rooms stripped bare and today they will arrive home to see thier rooms empty. But I digress.

This morning we had an instance of miscommunication...I mean lack of communication from dad...that meant the girls were not dressed properly or on time for camp. Fortunately I sent them with a change of clothes just in case, but it was panic. At least that is what I was told my husband. And then the baggage surfaced. Memories of feeling like my mom was the only one who missed the memo. Wanting so badly to not stand out because I didn't get it right. Ugh...the memories. I know I am being hard on myself, but I just never want my girls to have to feel those feelings of wishing they had a different mom. Clearly I am blowing this out of proportion. In fact I know I am.

Fast forward a few hours as I go to pick up the girls up from camp and profusely apologize for the mishap, Grace looked at me like she wasn't totally sure what I was talking about. And, that is when I realize that it was my baggage that I had been schleping around all morning.