Wednesday, September 5, 2012

Oh Joy

Today was a less-than-dreamy, oh-good-lord-how-are-we-supposed-to-go-on-like-this sort of day. And before you go all “oh hang in there! it’ll get better!” on me in your sweetest most consoling voice, let me just say that I KNOW. And you know what, it doesn’t change the fact that today was just not any fun. Not fun for baby. Not fun for me. I’m trying to keep it real here people.

What was it that slowly robbed me of that motherly joy I’m “supposed” to experience every waking moment that I am honored to spend with my baby? (which by the way, if my sarcasm didn’t just accomplish my expression of it, then let me be frank - is a completely INSANE expectation to put on a woman, because really people, moms have bad days too, even when they’re staring right in the of face of a freakin’ squishy little angel. This does not mean that said-angel is less squishy or less angelic, just that mom is indeed a human being.)…

I should probably just remove the parentheses around that last statement because I feel like this post is steadily becoming a raging rant against the grandiose amount of guilt I feel about having a bad day. COMPLETELY uncool that when people ask how it’s going I feel like I have to say things like “oh I’m enjoying every second of her sweet little life” or oblige their reminiscent bliss rather than express the truth of what this experience has been like:

Beautiful, awe-inspiring, the most insane all-consuming kind of love AND ridiculous, draining, impossibly hard self-denial.

Actually, let’s just leave it there. Guilt is evil! I won’t spend anymore time tonight (this morning?) humoring it, and worrying about very Christian-y things like being “robbed of my joy.”

So the life and light and truth I need right now is this: Jesus loves me in my joylessness. He sees my love for my baby, my dying to myself even if/especially when it’s not fun. I don’t have to clean it up and act like it is super-duper fulfilling or play the martyr and “whoa is me” all day to make it meaningful. He sees me. He gets me. Yeah, he could restore my joy if I let him, but the pressure to “do better” in that phrase alone is enough to make me squirm. And anyway, just being reminded of His with-me-ness makes the “blah” days of mommy-hood a whole lot more bearable. I’m so not into doing the impossibly hard alone (at all honestly). But Jesus? He’s pretty good at that kind of thing. And I am certainly not going to arm-wrestle with him over who can handle this baby. Go for it, Lord. Show me how it’s done.


  1. Perfectly put. I like babies/kids better when they are sleeping. Bless them. Feeling like you are drowning, like you lost yourself, like you can't do it, that crap sandwich off with the fact that you are a food group to this person...yeah. Loving it. Hating it. I get it. I just love how you wrote it all. Wanting to find joy, yet also wanting to punch joy in it's face for sometimes not being all it's cracked up to be. Hugs & boob-pads. :)

    1. Haha. Thanks for the love Sue! Such a crazy paradoxical ride this mommy-hood business ;)

  2. That's sometimes how I feel about pregnancy. Or when people ask me if I'm so excited to meet my little girl. I am. But I'm also terrified at the huge responsibility I have for her life. And I get frustrated when I think about how I can't buy new boots for the fall because I need to save my money for things like teeny tiny clothes and diapers and toys for this person invading my life. You just can't say that to people, least not MOST people.

    I love how you always remind me how Jesus sees us and meets us right where we are.

    1. Ugh for real!! It's like, of course I love her/will love her, but I also quite honestly love me the most (the human condition), and thus it is going to be/is insanely hard to pull this mom thing off sometimes. Yay for solidarity in trial (I'd say yay for dying to self, but I wouldn't mean it- good? yes, fun? absolutely NOT. and anyone who says it is, is full of malarkey!!).