My failings as a mother
Last night it occurred to me that I’ve been keeping my children alive more than I have been raising and nurturing them. And that is a disturbing realization.
Everyone here has been sick for quite a while and I think it’s only understandable that you muddle through in times like that. It’s hard to take care of other people when you’re feeling bad yourself. It’s not that I’m not sympathetic to their ills, I truly am. But I’m not as patient as my father. I’m not as kind as my mother. When three children spend an entire day crying and moaning, by about 3 pm I want to cry myself. By 7 pm I’m angry. And I am embarrassed to admit that.
I operate on an average of 4 hours of sleep per night and I’m drained. Believe me, I wish I could sleep more but for the foreseeable future that’s not the case. My dad recently gave me an article about the effect on your emotions when you don’t get enough sleep. This isn’t the same one, but it’s close enough. So maybe there is some explanation for my feelings, but that hardly makes it excusable.
I’ve always felt that, once you have kids, you matter a whole lot less. They come first. I know that comparison about the oxygen mask and how you can’t help anyone if you don’t help yourself first, but whatever. That goes against my every instinct as a mother. My girls are my whole world, and they are the most important people in my life. (I don’t feel bad saying this because I know my husband would say the same) So my own wants, needs, desires – they’re all pretty far down on the list. Yet now, it seems I’m not even putting them first. If I were, wouldn’t I be nicer? More patient, more kind? My daughter asked me yesterday if I had time to play a game with her and I nearly cried. Do I have time? But everything about me lately tells her that I don’t have time for her.
I am not the faithful servant that God deserves, the devoted wife I promised Chris I’d be, the selfless mother my children need. As Jo March said, I am hopelessly flawed. And while that’s depressing to accept, I know it’s true. But God forgives me. My husband accepts me. But my children…oh, my precious little angels. I worry about them. I’m afraid my inadequacies will do them irreparable damage. When I lose my temper and yell over torn books or whiny requests, what kind of example am I setting? Will the image of their mother the crazy person be burned into their psyches forever? Or worse yet, will they not see me as crazy and instead think this is normal, acceptable behavior that they will someday repeat with their own children?
I’m not sure what happened here. I look back over the past few weeks and months and I don’t see any monumental event, no big changes. But somehow I feel Satan has slipped in and I’m having trouble locking him back out. I don’t want to be this weak. I don’t want to be this grouchy. I’m normally a pretty positive person and I want that version of me back.
I’m making this very humbling pubic confession as a way of keeping myself accountable. Please don’t tell me that I’m a great mom – I’m not. Not even close. But I want to be. And I’m going to try to do better. I’m always telling my girls how much I love them, how important they are to me. But those are just words and talk is cheap. Now I’m praying for help to show them what a mom really should be. The kind of mom I have. The kind of mom my girls deserve. The kind of mom who always has time.
Tags: failings, hopelessly flawed, mother
Hopelessly Flawed Confessions, How I See the World, Life Lessons | Heather June 20, 2008
Facebook comments:
By Ingrid, June 20, 2008 @ 10:43 am
HUGS! Read about Elijah and when he was at his lowest point – it made a huge impact on me in understanding how much rest and good nutrition make a difference in our attitudes. Here’s a good sermon on it, too: http://mcdonaldroad.org/sermons/99/0717.htm
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By Darcie, June 20, 2008 @ 12:48 pm
I won’t tell you that you’re a good mom. I will tell you, however, that I’ve felt the very same things you’re feeling more times in my life as a mother than I can remember. And I know that my mother yelled at me sometimes at the end of a long day when the kitchen wasn’t as clean as she’d have liked it to be or whatever. But those are’t the things I remember most about her. What I remember most is that she gave me everything she knew how to give and I admire her for that. Likewise I hope that when my kids grow up they will remember not only the times I lost my temper, but also the times I baked chocolate chip cookies with them, took them camping, and painted watercolor pictures with them.
You can’t be perfect. But admitting to the failures you see says a lot about the kind of mom you are. Don’t be so hard on yourself.
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By Jenn, August 6, 2008 @ 9:12 pm
Heather, I was just reading through some of your older blogs and saw this one. I feel the same way so many times. However, I’m trying to constantly remember that “His strength is made perfect in our weakness”. If I did all the right things, the right ways, all the time…when would I be clinging to Him? When would I cry out in desparation knowing that He is the only hope for making it through the day?
We are simply imperfect people, redeemed, but dependent on Christ for our every need. That’s a much better place to be in, then pretending that you can handle it all, and not looking to Christ as your source of strength.
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