The Obtuse

Obtuse definition (from dictionary.com):

1. not quick or alert in perception, feeling, or intellect; not sensitive or observant; dull.

They live among us…the Obtuse…those poor souls that you could hit over the head with a frying pan, and they still wouldn’t understand that you’re trying to get their attention and/or what you’re trying to say.

We all deal with the Obtuse at some point in our lives.  Unfortunately, for some of us, the Obtuse are members of our own family.

The Obtuse are the people who, while they may be aware of your childlessness, will insist on thrusting their baby’s pictures in your face or worse yet, thrusting said baby into your arms without first asking if it’s okay.

The Obtuse are friends or family members who don’t understand why you’re not giddy to attend holiday functions or church services where the focus is on children and which families will, yet again, be adding new additions in the upcoming year.

The Obtuse tend to take your lack of excitement in said events and/or participation very personally and most likely will tell you exactly how they are feeling.

The Obtuse are the people who after you send them an e-mail explaining why you and your husband are struggling with the holidays this year don’t even bother to reply much less say, “We understand, and we love you.”

The Obtuse have a way of making you feel like an outsider in your own family or social circles, and what’s even more frustrating the Obtuse don’t even realize (or care) that they are doing it so well.

So, beware of the Obtuse this holiday season and stay clear of them if it all possible.   Like the Grinch they have an uncanny way of stealing your holiday joy.

Most of all don’t be a part of the Obtuse.  One way to keep out of their ranks is to realize that many people deal with pain and loss during the holiday season.   Be sensitive at family gatherings.  If you know someone who deals with pain, loss, health challenges, or unfulfilled dreams simply give them a hug and say, “I love you, and I’m thinking and praying for you.”  Nothing else needs to be said.  You don’t have to understand exactly what they’re going through…all you have to do is simply convey that you know and you care.

Holidays and Hurt

Ahhh…the holidays…the time of year when the term “joy” is heard everywhere…just as if the turning of the calendar to the month of December ushers in automatic joy.

Not so much for some people…and I daresay most people.

The fact is the older you get, I believe, the holidays become a time of complex emotions, and some of them aren’t always positive.  I am incredibly blessed, but because I have been through a major life trauma which included loss (childlessness) the holidays will always be a time that will include some degree of sadness.  Everywhere you look you see rosy-cheeked children all excited for Christmas.  This innocent joy and excitement motivates their parents to go to the ends of the earth to provide them that “perfect Christmas”.  Sometimes that motivation causes adults to do things that are not so mature, but that’s another rant for another day.

Christmas (in the American culture) is all about children.  That first Christmas was all about a child…the Christ child…and a girl who found herself with a pregnancy she didn’t plan.

As a childless woman I have found myself jealous of Mary. God chose her to carry the Christ Child, but He didn’t even choose me to have a child in the conventional way.  It brings up the emotions of inadequacy which…if I don’t get control of them…can send my emotions into tailspin.

Christmas is all about children, and that’s like mixing fire with gasoline when it comes to the childless not by choice.

I experienced that all too painfully last weekend…Thanksgiving weekend.  Hubby and I have not had our best year.  I won’t go into too many details, because they are private and personal.  My husband also has a right to privacy, and I honor that.  But with his gracious permission I’m telling you that he is grieving our childlessness intensely and has been for a while now.  I didn’t know the depths until last weekend…Thanksgiving weekend…which was a bad weekend on multiple levels.

He could not hold his 5-month-old nephew.  In fact, when he was with his family and near his baby nephew it was like putting kryptonite in the same room with Superman.  I could see he was struggling immensely, and when he was offered the chance to hold his nephew he responded with a very vehement “NO!”

Things came to a head on our drive back home and once we were back home.  Things were bad…very bad…and at the end of that emotional and tearful discussion we both were undecided as to whether or not we could endure the rest of our lives together with this shared disappointment.  It has eaten away at our relationship like a slow-growing cancer.  It infected me first and then moved on to him.

The beginning of the holidays had brought things to a head, and life was anything but “joyful.”

Last weekend…the Thanksgiving Holiday…I had to face, yet again, that my inadequacy in the childbearing department was causing great grief for other individuals.  This included my parents who are grandchildless, and most importantly, my husband who is now trying to come to terms with his own complex emotions over his childlessness.

Honestly, it’s too much  for me to bear.  I think the only pain worse than this would be to lose a child (or a loved one) to an accident that you caused.  It really feels like I have killed our children and I’m am killing those I love albeit more slowly.

Then, I came to a realization.  I cannot bear this weight.  It is too much.  As of right now children are not to be in this season of our lives.  That is God’s plan.  I’ve had a hard time dealing with God’s sovereignty in this area, but He has spoken, and it is the way He determined it to be.  I cannot bear the pain of others.  I just can’t and retain my sanity. All I can do is love them, pray diligently for them, and support them and hope it is enough.

I can’t even bear my own pain alone…how in the world can I be expected to bear the pain of others on my own?

The simple answer is…I’m not supposed to.

I had tea yesterday with a wonderful Godly woman who has graciously taken time out of her very busy ministry/speaking schedule to mentor me.  She has walked a similar path as I.  What she imparted to me was exactly what God had been telling me since last weekend.  God is in control, and I cannot bear this pain alone.  I must lean on Him, seek Godly counsel, and love and pray diligently for my husband and my family who have been so adversely affected by my childlessness.  I must also choose everyday to give my ongoing trial over the Lord.  While intense grief may pass after a season the effects of a loss stay with us for a lifetime.  Any major loss in our lives changes us in some way for a lifetime until that time we (those of us who have accepted Christ’s forgiveness for our sins…Re:  John 3:16) enter Heaven when God will “…wipe every tear from our eyes”. (Revelation 21:4)

Like I said, I know I am far from the only one experiencing pain during the holidays.  One of the constants of life here in this fallen world is pain and loss.  What we have to hold onto is the redeeming CONSTANT…that is God’s love for us as evidenced by His sending His  Son to this earth as the perfect sacrifice for our sins.  He was also “A man of sorrows acquainted with grief”(Isaiah 53:3)  So, he knows, only too well how I, as well as you, feel.

Let that wonderful realization be a comfort to you this season when the world is focused on children and material possession.  God does know and understands our unique pain.

Does He Think I Couldn’t Handle It?

Just a small vent.  Last night I watched the “1^st GrandDuggar” episode (where Josh and Anna have their baby).  I really like their show and sort of live vicariously through that show…because having one kid is most likely something I’ll never experience much less nineteen.

Anyway, I know I expose myself to potentially upsetting emotions by watching that show.  I just figure it’s something that goes along with the territory.

Well, last evening I was upset about something that had nothing to do with children…I think it’s a combination of circumstances and raging hormones…but Idecided I was going to watch the show to wind down.

Well, when Josh was asked about how many children he and Anna were planning to have he said something to the effect of (very loosely quoted) “Well, it’s in God’s hands.  God said he would never give us any more than we can handle.  So he won’t give us more children than we can handle.”

I agree with the statement because God does tell us that he will not give us more than we can handle.  I’m assuming Josh Duggar based his statement upon this scripture—1 Corinthians 10:13 (NIV)

“No temptation has seized you except what is common to man. And God is faithful; he will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear. But when you are tempted, he will also provide a way out so that you can stand up under it.”

You can interchange the word “temptation” for “situation” or “problem”.  The Hebrew word for “temptation” has a broader definition than the English meaning of temptation.

This is the question that is continually in the back of my mind…and I’m sure other folks who have dealt with life-long infertility and/or the closed doors of adoption…”Did God not allow me to have/adopt a child because he thought I couldn’t handle it?”

Josh Duggar’s  innocent and faith-inspired quote was, again, like a dagger to my soul and brought the old nagging question back to the forefront of my mind.  Satan has used it so many times to get me completely down and unsure of myself to the point that I think it’s a character flaw in me that has withheld this blessing that seems to be given freely and in abundance to most people.

Couple this with the fact that I just found out yet another family member is expecting…it’s just more than I can bear in my limited mind today.

The longer I walk down this lonely path of childlessness the more I realize I don’t have any answers.  I can only draw conclusions based on what I know about God.

So, okay, maybe…just maybe God decided I wasn’t cut out to be mother.  If that is true then is it really a condemnation upon me?  The enemy (Satan) constantly throws that interpretation in my face to discourage me.  However, I am God’s child, and if everything I believe is true then I have to believe that everything He does in my life is for my good:

And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose. Romans 8:28 (NIV)

It’s really hard to accept that my condition is the work of God’s love in my life.  However, is there really any other conclusion?  We all know people out there who are not good parents…selfish, irresponsible…etc., etc., but yet, God allowed them to be parents for whatever reason.  The hardest thing for me to accept is that God is a personal God.  Yes, there are absolutes…things that God says, “This applies to everyone across the board”, but the majority of the time God works on a personal level with everyone.  It’s so hard for me to wrap my brain around that…that God can work with every human being on earth on personal, intimate level.  What is good for me in His eyes is not always good for the next person.

See where am I going with this?

When He formed me in my mother’s womb He already had all my days planned.  He knew every decision I would make…every trial I would face…and the fact that I would be childless.  He already knew!  Why would He go to the trouble to make me if my life was not useful in some way?

Again, I don’t know…I don’t know if I’ll ever know why he made me the way I am, but what I do know…and what I cling desperately to…is the fact that I am not a mistake and I’m not defective.  I’m exactly who He designed me to be, and right now and for the rest of my life…that has to be enough.

Well, Hello!

Psalm 94:19  When my anxious thoughts multiply within me, Your consolations delight my soul!

I’ve not written much lately, because #1, I’ve been busy, and #2, I’ve struggled a bit with what to write.  To be blatantly honest I’ve struggled with whether or not I want to keep doing this bloggy thing.  I’m getting maybe one or two hits on this site a day, so I really wonder if my blog is contributing anything to the blogosphere.  Of course, I’m like most bloggers, I want to know that people are actually reading my blog and getting something from it.   I feel there are a lot of folks out there who walk the journey of childlessness, but I also get a sense that even the folks who are dealing with this trial try not to think about it as much as possible much less read blogs about it.  I know that because there are times I don’t want to read blogs about it, go to childless forums or even think about that thing I was never allowed to have.

I also wonder just how much writing about it affects me negatively.  I mean, just last week I spent a couple of hours on a VERY BAD DAY writing a lengthy lament about my lot in life.  It was raining.  I was depressed, and I was very frustrated with my husband.  I composed the draft but told myself that I was going to wait until later that evening to post it to give myself some time to decide if it was really how I felt or if I was just blowing off steam for the sake of blowing off steam.

Later, when I re-read the draft the first thought in my mind was “Eh gads!  That makes me want to go grab a gun and blow my head off.  That’s not going on the blog…uh uh!”  See, just a few short hours later I felt much differently about the day and my life.   Then I regretted that I had spent two hours of my life composing that depressing draft.  Emotions are lying, fleeting  little buggers, and the enemy sure knows how to use them to get your whole day off track.

I do want to reach a consistent place of peace with the path God has laid out in front of me.  I don’t want to be reactionary and let my emotions take complete control over me anymore.  I’ve been a slave to my emotions most of my life, and I have allowed them to ruin the quality of my life more times than I can count.

Blogging is essentially journaling for the whole world to see.  Of course, I have complete creative control over what I put on this site, but just because one can doesn’t mean one should.   I have read blogs from people who describe every intimate detail of their life, and honestly, it’s a little…or a lot…off-putting.  I know it human nature to love a train wreck, but I don’t want to be a train wreck.  I want to be a good example of someone who can swim through the muck and mire of life, be real about it, but not shake that muck and mire off on people and just walk away.  I want you and myself to be aware that even though we all walk through some pretty terrible trials in life that we make it through…with scars…but we make it through by the grace and love of God alone.  That’s right…with God alone.  Every day I live the more I realize that without God I would not make it.  Oh, I might live, but I could not live abundantly and healed.  I would be the train wreck that everyone would gawk at with pity.  Without him I would continue to be broken, and the only thing I would be contributing to the world is more brokenness.  That’s the last thing the world needs.

So, I continue to seek God on the direction of my life and this blog.  Does God want me to continue it, and if so what should I write about?  I know that God gave me, however humble, some writing skills.  Having a good grasp of the English language and using those skills via transcription has helped keep food on our table and kibble in our cats’ bowls for almost twenty years.  So, I know I’m supposed to be writing but what?

I’m open to suggestions from God and you, because God can use you to help me!

See, we’re all used by God in some way!

My Fickle Desire to Adopt

Why can I not just be content? Why can’t I just move on and accept my childless life? I want to so badly, but my heart just keeps showing me the void that it seems only a child could fill.

I’m 90-some-percent sure I’ll never be able to have a child of my own, but since I still have my reproductive organs there is a chance. I have moved on to accept there will most likely never be a person who shares mine and my husband’s genes. It’s not okay…it will never be okay…but I have come to accept it for the most part.

On Sunday we sat behind a couple (who were several years older than us) who had adopted what appeared to be a child of Latino heritage. I heard her talking to someone about it. I don’t know if they had been CNBC, but she stated that her and her husband had been married 30 years and now had adopted 2-1/2-year-old (who is just drop-dead adorable by the way).

That old desire to adopt came crashing back on me. Like I’ve said a million times…church is the emotionally hardest place I go all week. I’m frequently overcome by all the sweet families with children. It’s usually worse when there’s a baby dedication. Well, last Sunday I was crying even before the first strains of music began. Seeing that couple with their adopted child combined with some emotionally tough things I encountered last week was the perfect storm. I somehow managed not to let it descend into sob-fest that necessitated that I leave the sanctuary to compose myself, but it was a very close call indeed.

Well, last night I went and picked up a book by a new author I had just discovered. I didn’t pick the book entirely on the story; however, the story intrigued me a bit. It was about three children who were orphaned after their parents were killed in a tenement fire in the late 1800’s. They first went to an orphanage in New York City, but then were sent to Missouri to be adopted.

The adoption process was disturbingly simple in that time period. Orphans would be shipped by train to requesting towns. They would be ushered into a local church or public hall. They would be numbered and stand before the crowds something akin to slave selling or auctioning. Money wasn’t supposed to change hands, but there were no regulations to speak of. The orphanage representatives were known to take bribes from people who wanted to ensure they got first pick…infants, strong farm-hand-able boys etc.

In this novel the three siblings end up separated…the separation narrated in heart-rending detail. The oldest child vows that she will eventually find her two siblings.

That’s as far as I have read so far.

I don’t know if adoption has been planted in my head this week by coincidental happenstance, or if it is God trying to tell me something. After two near misses with adoption several years ago following arduous years of infertility treatments my heart could take no more. We pursued it no further for my mental well being. Our financial situation was also (still isn’t) favorable for adoption. Whether you do it privately, closed, domestic, or internationally adoption is a costly process at best. You don’t just walk into a church, pick out a kid, and leave with your child the same day.  While I’m glad the process has become more stringent it has crossed the line of being too complicated and costly for the normal middle-class person.  That is unless you go the foster/adopt route which is really the only route to adoption state social services allow anymore…also, not for the faint of heart.

Even if we did come up with the cash for the process we’d need another financial miracle for me to be able to stay home with the child which is what I’d feel I’d owe a child…especially if we adopted one who had been in an orphanage or foster situation for any length of time.

So, here I sit not knowing if my renewed desire is something God breathed or just a “desire” that I harbor because it’s really the only thing left we can do to obtain a child of our own.  Maybe the desire will be gone again tomorrow?

I do believe adoption is a calling and something that you shouldn’t do for primarily selfish reasons. It should be done for the child’s benefit. Any joy or fulfillment that you get as a parent should be seen as collateral benefit.

I guess all I can do is pray. In the past this desire has waxed and waned. If it were to happen God would first have to put my husband and I on the same page, and then He would have to do some major door opening. If I look at it practically it’s certainly a no-go circumstantially, but the side of me that contains the faith of a  mustard seed (and believe me, it’s a very small mustard seed) says I should be open and listen to what my heart is telling me.

My main desire is to be obedient to God. I don’t want to miss His best for me, or the best for a potential child He might place in our life.

Julie and Julia

I went to see the movie Julie and Julia yesterday.  LOVED IT!   In fact I wrote a big review over at my other blog if you’re interested in reading that.  I did not discuss the childless-not-by-choice aspect of it on that blog, since that is my more public blog. I try to keep all my CNBC “issuahs” over here.   While most of my readers there know I’m childless experience has taught me that I should guard my CNBC thoughts and not cast my pearls before swine…not that my readers are swine…definitely not, but you know what I mean.  Not everybody gets what we go through.

Going in I did not know that Julia Child was CNBC.  So, when the subtle (but extremely poignant) scenes showing her deep pain (childlessness) played out I was completely blown away, and my admiration for her grew immensely.  She was a joyous and headstrong woman, but facing her childless state could bring her to her knees faster than anything.  I mean, she took her cooking setbacks with great stride, but she could see a baby carriage and her countenance would fall like poorly baked souffle.   She made me feel less like a wuss.

The great thing was that she never let it get her down for long.  She focused on the wonderful things in her life…her husband, her love of Paris, and her love of cooking.   She would channel all of her love and energy into those things, and most of all…she SAVORED life.   Here’s the link to the trailer.

So, if you haven’t seen the movie do youself a BIG FAVOR and go.  Even a day later this movie is still on my mind.  I didn’t expect for it to affect me like it did, but it did!

Bon Appetit!

What I Truly Need…

A few months ago I think I eluded to the fact that for a while church had been difficult for me.  I really couldn’t pinpoint the exact reason why.  I thought it was because (especially during the holidays) all the sweet little families…complete with children and grandchildren…that surrounded me there.  I also reasoned it was because my extended family was not with me at church which in retrospect I realized was a pretty lame excuse.  Even before we moved to Charlotte we had left my home church and had found a wonderful church nearer to our home in Hendersonville.  We were happy as larks there even though we were not related to one soul in that church.

In the last few months I came to realize the reason I was having such a hard time at church…it was the condition of my heart.  I have been disappointed in God, and I have been bitter towards Him and towards people who had received things from God I didn’t think they deserved.  I have also been disappointed in Him because He had not fixed things that I thought He should fix.

Mind you, not all of this centers around my childlessness.  There are also other areas in which my pride has been rearing it’s big ugly head.  I have  been envious, jealous, indignant, profane, and judgmental…I could go on.

I’ve also been a whole lot of self-righteous.  I’m a rule follower, and I think everyone else should be too.  I tend to get really out of joint when people don’t follow the rules and don’t play nice.  While it’s good to play by the rules and expect others to do the same when you let that tendency overtake you to the point that you’re angry about something constantly then something’s wrong…very wrong.  I knew I had to get to the root of my problem and work through the things that were making me so bitter.  I know some bitter people, and it scares me that I could end up like them if I don’t make some drastic changes.  So, I asked God to start dredging out the black bile of bitterness in my heart, and He’s begun the process,  I won’t lie to you and say it’s anything less than painful.  Bitterness is like the Bermudagrass that I pulled out of my flower garden last night.  It wraps it’s tentacles around everything good and chokes it out.  Just like I had let that Bermudagrass take over my beautiful flowers I had let bitterness over my childlessness (and other issues) wrap it’s tentacles around my heart, and I did not weed it out before it did great damage.

I have thought for years upon years that what I needed to complete me and our family was a child.  It was an understandable misconception, because it’s normal and natural for a woman to have a child…we’re biologically wired for it.  When it didn’t happen to me but happened to other people…some of whom I didn’t believe deserved it…that’s when the bitterness started taking root.  I let that bitter weed have it’s way for years, and it became so prevalent that it choked out many of the good things in my life.

However, after I had prayed that prayer for God to start weeding out the bitterness I had sort of an “ah-ha” moment last weekend as I cuddled my 2-month-old nephew.  He was being super-snuggly and looking at me with those innocent blue eyes and charming me as only a baby boy can do.  In the past that would make my baby-want meter go into the red zone, but at that moment something odd happened to me.  I felt an odd sort of contentment that I was Aunt Vicki and not momma.  I was going to eat that moment up and then hand him off to his mother to change the diaper he had filled while I was cuddling him.  I suddenly realized that a baby isn’t everything.  Seventeen years ago I held my other nephew, and now he’s gone, and not only is he gone…he’s on a dangerous path; one we’re desperately praying that he’ll turn from.  I couldn’t imagine what life would be like right now if we were his parents.  It would definitely be harder than the life we have now. It’s painful enough walking through this as aunt and uncle.

Getting back to my main point…God planned this life for me.  My pastor said it this morning.  I have to stop whining about the life he planned for me.  I have to give up these hopes and dreams and get to the point to where nothing matters but Jesus.  He was talking to a large congregation…many of whom have lost jobs, homes, cars, possessions, and status this year.  He was telling them to quit longing to get those things back and just start focusing on Jesus and seeing that everything that comes our way…seemingly good or bad…is always ultimately for our good.

So, I have to start seeing my childlessness as good…the distance from my family as good…my husband’s chronic illness as good and so on and so on. I have to get to the point to where all I need is Jesus, and I’m going to be working on that.  I know it’s not going to be an easy or pain-free journey.

If you would like to hear the message I heard this morning go here and click on the sermon from  Sunday Morning, August 9, 2009.   Loran Livingston is the real deal.  Strap on your seatbelt, because he’s an old-fashioned fiery preacher (I love that!), and he gives it to you straight.  My toes have chronic bruises from where he’s stepped on them, but by golly, I’ve deserved each and every bruise!

As Anne Graham Lotz says, “Just give me Jesus!”

“But you’re not a parent, so what do you know?”

There are many facets to the experience of being childless not by choice.  You not only go through your own personal sense of loss you are subjected to errant assumptions within your peer groups and most especially within your own extended family.    The most infuriating assumption that I and my husband are subjected to is  “They’re not parents, so what do they know?”

No, we have never raised a child, but we have watched many of our friends and family raise theirs, and we have observed many different parenting styles.  We have had many years to form an opinion on what is good parenting and what is bad parenting…not that we sit back and take some sort of perverse satisfaction in criticizing parenting styles, but yes…we have formed opinions from our observations.

At this point we have seen many of these kids reach their late teens or even adulthood, and we are finding that most of our observations have been pretty on target.

Now, I know how a kid turns out is based on multiple factors, but the kids we know who have grown up in stable, two-parent homes (or in a very stable and functional one-parent home) with a parenting style that emphasized Godly values, discipline, and self-control have generally turned out great with very few exceptions.  All of the kids have made their share of mistakes, but it seems that the “stable home” kids are able to recover and move on from their mistakes whereas the “unstable home” kids have either not recovered or have a substantially longer and rockier period of recovery.

We are seeing this very acutely in our own family right now.  While I will not give personal details of the situation  in order to protect the folks involved…this situation has progressively gone from bad to worse over a period of nearly two decades.

Over the years my husband and I have spoke into this situation many, many times, and even offered to help parent the child involved.   The parent in this situation would not overcome their pride and take us up on the offer to help this child and to bring him into a stable environment (with a strong father figure) until the parent could provide that environment .  All of our efforts to lovingly, but firmly point out the direction this child was going were met with indignation and the statement of “What do you know?  You’re not parents!”

Yes…that was said right to our faces.

Every prediction we made of the ultimate outcome of this situation has come to pass.  We prayed that we were wrong, but unfortunately we were not.

Last week this 17-year-old child made a decision that will most likely affect the rest of his life, and at least in the short term his ability to live a free life.

So, in the end childless “What-do-they-know” Aunt and Uncle were right all along.  Do I revel in that?   No…at this moment there’s the potential I could drown in my own tears.  I witnessed this child being born, and I developed a strong bond with him that will remain with me the rest of my life.

So, if you are a childless person and are being told that your child rearing opinions don’t count simply because you’ve never reared one please know that most likely your intuitions are right.

I think it’s because we can see the forest for the trees.   Now, we shouldn’t allow that to make us cocky know-it-alls, but I do believe our unique life situation imparts on us a deep wisdom since we have spent months and then years contemplating how we would parent a child if ever given the opportunity.  Also, most of us never had an unplanned/unwanted pregnancy…parenthood was never forced upon us before we were ready.  We had time to observe and get ready if we ever were given the miracle that many just take for granted…or in extreme cases…resent.

Not that you will be heard, but take it from me…when it comes to close friends and family offer your opinion when red flags are raised.  I’m not talking about blatant interfering, but when asked share your honest views.   If you have moved on and don’t desire to impart any of your views then okay, but don’t automatically assume that since you don’t have kids your opinions don’t count simply because you’ve never had a child to raise.

Please remember that there is a grain of truth to the statement contained within the title of this post.   We have never been blinded by the unique overwhelming love of having a child (with the exception of those who experienced a live birth only to lose that child).  We have never felt the conflicting emotions of being so in love with a child and so angry at him at the same time for doing something stupid.  Someone once said…and I believe it’s true…that having a child is like taking your heart out of your chest and letting it walk around in this world.

So, if you face a situation on which you feel you need offer parenting advice please tread softly and impart a lot of love and gentleness.  Being a parent is one of the hardest jobs on earth, and no one ever does is perfectly.

Mother’s Day

No, it isn’t the easiest day for me.  In the past it has been almost unbearable, but as the years have rolled by I’ve learned to cope with this day.  I allow myself to feel the melancholy that inevitably comes with this day to a limited extent, but in turn I also count my blessings.

Some people minimize the holiday by justifying that it was a holiday brought forth by the greeting card companies to generate more sales.  They’re probably right, but in America it’s a big deal.  I mean, where would we be without our mothers?

I know some folks lost their mothers early in life.  Some folks had a mother who for whatever reason…either by choice or not…couldn’t be  good mother.  While this day is supposed to be a joyous celebration of the wonderfulness of motherhood I can only imagine the pain it brings to those whose mothers were the opposite of a June Cleaver type of mother.  There are people whose birth mother chose adoption.  Even if that person ended up in a wonderful home he or she probably always wonders on this day “what if?” and where their birth mother is today.  I also think of thousands of children in foster care.

There are also the many out there who have lost their mothers.  I cannot imagine what that must be like as my mom is still with me.  My mom’s mother died at age 57 of a brain tumor.  The illness had been quite unexpected as she was a very vibrant, healthy woman up until that point.  The effects of the tumor, the surgery to remove it, and of a subsequent stroke were quite devastating.  For 18 months she lingered in a very debilitated state until God finally took her home to be with Him.   My mother misses her to this day, and every year on Mother’s Day I see her shed a few (or many) tears.

My dad lost his mother in 2007 after about a 3-year period of declining health due to a blood disorder.  My dad is the stoic sort, but since his mother has passed I can tell it has affected him greatly.  I’ve seen him shed tears intermittently in the last couple of years…most recently while watching the movie Marley and Me.  I can’t remember ever seeing my dad cry at all before his mother passed with the exception of my wedding day when I could see a little mist in his eyes when he walked into the bride’s room and saw me moments before he gave me away.

Then there are us who have never been able to have children.  Even if we are new or old to this condition we always feel a little…or a lot…out of place on this day.  This yearly reminder of what we cannot be is a mile marker we’d like to bypass, but the truth is we cannot.  We can only do what we can do to make this day a little more bearable.  I don’t put a lot of pressure on myself this day.  If I feel like attending church I do, but if I don’t, I don’t.  I believe God is near to the heart of  the childless woman.  The story of Hannah is a great example that God felt it necessary to include the plight of a childless woman in the Bible (and don’t forget Sarah and Abraham).

So, I take it easy on myself on this day.  If I feel like crying I do, but I try not to wallow.  I do something nice for myself, and try to remember that:

For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. – Jeremiah 29:11

No matter what situation you find yourself in on this Mother’s Day try to concentrate on that!

Does Becoming a Mom Affect Your Emotions?

I’m a very emotional person…always have been.  Truth is most of us are.  It’s part of being human.  When I say I’m emotional it means I’ve always tended to let my emotions have too much influence over me.  My parents and husband would probably “amen” me on that one.

Sometimes I wonder if I had become a mother would I have grown up…meaning would I have become more stoic in order to not upset my own children?  In other words would I have learned to have more control over my emotions?

It’s hard to know, because I have seen some women who I considered tough ladies turn into emotional cream puffs once they had children.  I’m not talking about the post-partum depression, hormone-induced emotional mess I’m talking about a personality change where they are more easily moved to tears by the plight of others…especially children…since they now love another human being so completely that they see in every person a reflection of their own child?  I guess I can best describe it as they now feel like they are a mother to every child or person in desperate need.

Okay…I got pretty deep there…my apologies.

I mostly see this phenomenon in younger moms.  Fast forward about 15 years and most moms have become “tough moms”.  They’ve weathered the years of teething and toddling, ear infections and broken limbs, and now they are dealing with a saracastic alien child they don’t even know anymore, a.k.a. the common teenager. Boy, if she’s not a tough mom by then she better become one fast!

If I had become a mother at all especially when I planned to become a mother I would be in that stage now.  Would I be the tough mom who knows how to control her emotions and/or use them to evoke an expected outcome, or would I still be the blubbering emotional mess one day and the happy-go-lucky gal the next that I am today?

Who knows, and of course I’m probably over generalizing…I tend to do that, but I wonder about these things sometimes (scratches head).