What I Know About Motherhood

The sentimental mothers day cards could lead me to believe that motherhood is a journey of love and joy, of sweetness and hope, of purpose and completeness.

That's a bunch of hooey.

Today is my only child's 11th birthday. While there has been lots of love and joy, etc., there's been a lot of other stuff, too.

There's been frustration and irritation. Days when I've wondered, why is he still talking? How many messes do I have to clean up? And my favorite and most recent question: since when did farting become cool?

There have many, many days of staying in our pajamas. Of wishing time would pass quickly.

And it has. It's passed quickly, and I realize that my time with him is almost gone.

I'm a sentimental person, the kind of mom who scrapbooks and takes pictures and proclaims every moment on Facebook. But that's not what motherhood is.

Motherhood is poopy diapers. It's 3 am feedings, cleaning spit up, feeling hopeless from lack of sleep.

Motherhood is watching first steps, hearing first words, laughing at first giggles.

Motherhood is playing with dolls and trucks. It's saying, you'll have to play by yourself, Mommy has to do dishes/laundry/housework. Mommy needs to hide in the bathroom just to get a moment's peace!

Motherhood is grades, good and bad. Motherhood is fear. Worry. Guilt. Second guessing. Worry. Letting go. Holding on. Worry.

Motherhood is trusting God, all over again, every time. It's calling out to Him when worry robs you of rest. It's praying  and pleading for his/her/their future. It's praying for their friends. For their friends' friends. For their friends' parents. For anyone who could ever be an influence on your child.

It's praying for their spouse. Even now. When boys are gross and girls have cooties.

I don't think motherhood is fulfilling. Because that feeling of fulfillment tends to come and go, based on behavior and obedience and all the times you second guess yourself about whether or not you are a good mother, doing the right thing, guiding the right way.

I can only find my fulfillment through Christ. But I believe that only God could have given me this child. I was born to be his mother, and no one else, should anything ever happen to him, will mother him the same way I do. With laughter and creativity and joy. And yes, with irritation and frustration and that blech feeling that just doesn't have a name.

I can only find my fulfillment through Christ. And if I do nothing else as his mother, if he doesn't grow up to be President of the United States (which is my goal), this is one area in which I cannot fail: he, too, will only find fulfillment through Christ. Not sports, not girls, not work. God and God alone.
I write all this because i need to say that sometimes motherhood stinks. Sometimes, it's the worst. And I am the worst mother.

But thank God, it doesn't stay there. If that's not a metaphor for the Christian life, I don't know what is. Sometimes the Christian life stinks - it's hard, it's work, and we have to clean up someone else's poop.

But it doesn't stay there. It gets better. And better and better.

Just like motherhood.

Thank you, oh God, for teaching me about you by teaching me about myself. For reflecting all around me.

And thank you for this child, who is more than halfway to manhood. Who makes me laugh and cry and laugh again. Thank you for making me responsible for him, and for giving me the blessing of teaching him about you!