Category: Fulfillment

Motherhood shouldn’t just be a drudgery. Find fulfillment in your most important calling–mother.

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Kids/Parenting Fulfillment

Another type of little reminder

Hayden fought off a little cold this week. Between that and all the excitement of having his grandparents and Aunt Jasmine here to play with him (read: fawn over his every move, as we all should), he’s had a little trouble sleeping.

When we finally broke down and got him to sleep through the night (in February), we had to let him cry it out. For three weeks. Ryan was afraid we were starting over again with that. He went in to comfort him Tuesday night and Hayden quieted as soon as his daddy picked him up—but began wailing as soon as he was laid in bed.

Hayden 14 months 007.jpgWednesday night, I was fighting off the same cold (still am :() and had just gotten to bed (late again, sigh) when Hayden began to cry. As I debated whether to get up or not, his cries grew louder. After a few minutes, I knew I had to get up, especially since my parents were trying to sleep in the room next to his.

I put on my robe and went into his room. I gathered him into my arms and rocked him. Slinging one arm around my neck, Hayden quickly quieted down and snuggled into my shoulder. I could hear him sniffling and speculated that he was having trouble breathing laying down. (He insists on sleeping face down, silly boy.)

I sat down on the floor of his room and rocked him gently. Although he was completely asleep, Hayden still clung to my neck. I couldn’t help but give him tons of kisses.

I held him for ten or fifteen minutes, just to make sure that he got some undisturbed sleep, before gently laying him back in his crib.

No matter how well or how poorly my week is going, a reminder like that is one I can always use.

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Fulfillment Faith

Growing Pains

We’ve all heard the phrase ‘growing pains’—and I hope not just as the title of the Kirk Cameron 80s sitcom. I remember as a teenager, my legs ached during a growth spurt. More vividly, I remember the sundry pains and discomforts of pregnancy as my baby (and belly) grew.

Despite these experiences, I tend to think of growth in rather innocuous terms. I just don’t imagine a germinating seed to be in any discomfort.

In the last few weeks, Hayden has begun his latest round of teething. Two new teeth have erupted, and two more are on the way. His pain has been tormenting us all lately, and no amount of acetaminophen is helping. Often, I’m tempted to tell my poor little boy, “Life’s rough—and then you die.”

While the statement has become a cliché among mothers, as I deal with his frustrated cries, I’m reminded that life is rough—and not just for my preverbal toddler. Between keeping him happy and out of the cat’s litterbox, and keeping the house clean and the family fed, I often have trouble keeping my sanity intact.

Whenever I start to feel that I’ve gotten the hang of this motherhood thing, something changes and I have to start all over again. When I was just starting out as a mother, I felt as though I might drown in motherhood. It was so completely overwhelming to have someone who needed you so completely, so often (okay, constantly).

Why was this so hard? Why would the calling of motherhood, one that I know is divinely appointed, make me feel as though I couldn’t bear another day of it? If this is how my life should be, why was I falling apart?

Why was motherhood so hard—so hard that my even my soul ached? How could this be God’s will for me if it made me feel so terrible?

I don’t think I really began to understand until I read this:

Imagine yourself as a living house. God comes in to rebuild that house. At first, perhaps, you can understand what He is doing. He is getting the drains right and stopping the leaks in the roof and so on: you knew that those jobs needed doing and so you are not surprised. But presently He starts knocking the house about in a way that hurts abominably and does not seem to make sense. What on earth is He up to? The explanation is that He is building quite a different house than the one you thought of—throwing out a new wing here, putting on an extra floor there, running up towers, making courtyards. You thought you were going to be made into a decent little cottage: but He is building a palace. (C.S. Lewis, Mere Christianity, 205)

I wanted to grow as a mother—but I wanted to be the seed. I wanted to have all of the benefits of motherhood (um… wait, wait, don’t tell me… 😉 ) without the work—and the pain.

But after giving birth, there’s no epidural for the rest of motherhood. And you know what? I’m beginning to believe that it’s a good thing, too. Besides, being a seed probably isn’t as easy as it looks.

For more posts on growth, see scribbit’s April Write-Away Contest Entries.

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Fulfillment Faith

Fulfillment and faith

Motherhood is near to divinity. It is the highest, holiest service to be assumed by mankind.

—J. Reuben Clark

To me, it’s very difficult to talk about, think about or learn about personal fulfillment in motherhood or any other aspect of life without touching on my faith. Most of the time, I try not to mention this aspect of fulfillment because I want all mothers to be able to find personal fulfillment regardless of their beliefs.

But I would be remiss if I neglected to mention faith as it plays a very large role in my life and my world view. I promise I won’t always do this, but I will probably mention my faith from time to time in contemplation of fulfillment.

As a Christian, I have always been taught to hope for a better world. And while I do believe that there is an eternal reward awaiting the righteous, I also know that we are here on Earth that we might have joy. Our joy in our eternal reward would never be complete without the things that we must (and can only) accomplish in this life—such as having children.

When I was a teenager, I knew that families were essential for our eternal reward, but at the time I often thought that we were put in families to become better people by ‘overcoming’ our upbringing—and our family members. (I was a snotty teenager sometimes.) I have since learned that we’re placed in families to become better people through them and with them—and our eternal reward would not be heavenly without them.

I have also been taught that motherhood is an exalting and ennobling life. It’s the highest embodiment of womanhood. I believe that, and I can quote lots of wise men and women saying beautiful, inspiring things about that, but when it’s getting toward the third hour in a row of my son’s whining and screaming and I can’t find anything to please him, when the last week’s worth of laundry and mail is strewn across my couches and Hayden’s toys littered throughout the house, when I haven’t gotten dressed in two days or showered in I don’t know how long, it’s hard to feel exalted and noble.

Fortunately, the same people who know that motherhood is exalting and ennobling also know that it’s far from easy. Somehow, I didn’t get this memo before arriving home from the hospital. I’m not sure how or when I missed that, but I was floored to discover how difficult and daunting motherhood was nearly every day.

When my son was about a week and a half old, I asked my mother in desperation: “Why is it so hard?”

“So we will love them more,” she told me.

You love those whom you serve, and I will probably never serve anyone the way I serve my family. By building that love through a lifetime of service, I hope that I’ll want to be with my husband and children forever—and I pray they’ll want to be with me.

But I think there’s another reason why motherhood is so hard. In a day when motherhood is being assaulted and devalued on all sides, perhaps the difficulty of mothering is the only way we can be reminded that it’s worth it. Sometimes that difficulty can make is hard to remember, but I seldom find the things that are truly worthwhile to be easy (and vice versa).

And as a Christian, I am reminded that while motherhood is the hardest thing I’ve ever done, His burden is easy and His yoke is light. Perhaps the last reason why motherhood is so hard for me sometimes is because I seem to forget so easily that I don’t have to do it all by myself, for myself and through myself.

Sometimes the only way I can feel fulfillment is to know that God loves me—and Hayden—and that it is truly His will that I be Hayden’s mother today. Submitting my will to His will be my life’s work—and, knowing me, I doubt that it will ever be easy.

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Fulfillment

Finding fulfillment: Jane Clayson Johnson

Earlier this week, I quoted an article “I Am a Mother.” It was written by Jane Clayson Johnson. If her name sounds familiar, it could be because she spent 15 years on network news, first for ABC News, then as a co-anchor on CBS’s Early Show. She was at the top of her game, and negotiating a lucrative contract, when she decided to leave journalism—for motherhood.

She talks about people’s various reactions in her article and in her book of the same name. Today I got to hear her speak at BYU. She’s now the happy mother of two (and stepmother of three more). I learned so much from listening to her speak; she has an amazing perspective on life and its seasons.

One of my favorite stories that she shared took place not too long ago. She was with her family in Florida (I think), and she said she had on her “new mom outfit,” no make up, diaper bag and kids in tow. Someone she’d worked with several times recognized her and flagged her down.

“So,” he asked once he’d caught up with her. “What are you up to now?” He glanced at her children. “Just a mom?”

It took her only a split second to respond: “Just a mom? No, no—I am a mother,” she declared proudly.

At the end of her excellent talk (you’d think she’d been paid to write and speak for decades! Oh, wait…), there was a little bit of time for questions.

Naturally, I hopped right up, ducked under a few handrails and got to the microphone (luckily my sister was there to hold on to Hayden).

I asked Jane how she found fulfillment as a mother. Here’s what she said (from my notes; my tape recorder wasn’t cooperating!)

It’s difficult in our culture because we place such an emphasis on measuring success—awards, titles, etc. As a mother, you don’t get a pat on the back every day. You can’t measure motherhood on a daily basis—it’s a long-term process.

The world esteems titled professions: lawyers, judges. Society seems to set motherhood below those things. But that success is fleeting; it goes away. And there is always someone waiting in the wings to take your place. Your relationship with your children will last forever. It is more important.

I like how she was unafraid to make firm statements, from “I am a mother” to “It is more important.” And that’s something that I like to be reminded of: my relationship with my children will last forever. It is more important. Success in the workplace is nice—I quite like it—but it’s fleeting, and someone can easily replace you there. There is no substitute for a mother to her children.

Categories
Fulfillment

What does the world expect of mothers?

I was more than a little saddened to read this a couple weeks ago from Kim at Catawampus (via Karen at StrollerDerby; read both if you read one; the takes are pretty different)

These days, here’s what society preaches to women:

  1. You can’t be fulfilled unless you have a man and a child.
  2. If you have a child, you should WANT to stay home with your baby, all day, every day.
  3. Doing this will make you feel happy and fulfilled and complete in ways you never imagined.
  4. When your kids are older, you can always go right back into your career.

Here’s what I hear from society:

  1. You can’t be fulfilled unless you have a career (not just a job!) and money. External stuff—praise from your boss, “going places” in your career, toys—makes you happy and fulfilled.
  2. Money. Make money. Yes, have kids, but get back to work ASAP.
  3. More money. Two incomes are an absolute necessity.
  4. “You can have it all” or “You can have it all at once” or even “You must have it all at once.”

I was wondering if I was crazy until I saw my experience echoed in an essay that I haven’t finished reading yet, but I can tell it’s something I need to see. It’s called “I Am a Mother” (and I’m guessing it’s from the author’s book of the same name). When she decided to leave her career to raise her child-to-be,

I found that the reaction from my female colleagues was largely, and disappointingly, less than supportive. I shared my decision with one woman who smugly joked, “Why don’t you just get a nanny?” Another network executive asked me what I was going to do once I got to Boston. I told her I was going to have a family, I was going to be a mother. “No, I understand that,” she said, puzzled, “but what are you going to do?”

All of this was still fresh on my mind during that evening spent near Washington, D.C. A chorus of “I’m just a mother,” juxtaposed with “What will you be without your job?” and “You’re making a terrible mistake” made me wonder, Could they be ­right?

I may struggle with finding “fulfillment” from constantly keeping my 13 month old from playing with the cat food, but I know there is more to motherhood than just that. Society as a whole will probably never understand motherhood. (Kim at Embracing Momminess has an interesting post on this topic, too, looking at the political/feminist side of societal pressure on motherhood.)

I also realize that no matter how many children I have, they can’t give me fulfillment. It’s not a gift you wrap and stick under the tree. However, a job—or a whole career—can’t just give it to me either.

My fulfillment has to start with me. And realizing that is the first step on that path.

Categories
Kids/Parenting Ryan/Married Life Fulfillment

Where I belong

Yesterday I took my sister Brooke and a couple of her friends to look for apartments for next fall. We looked at three places, including the complex where I lived my first year off campus. It was my idea to go there—I was arguing that it’s really nice to have enclosed hallways, instead of your apartment opening up right into the cold. (Also, with the strict curfew rules the university imposes on approved housing, it’s a warm place to hang out with friends after curfew.)

It was kind of weird to be back there. It even smelled the same. Brought back a lot of memories. We sat in the office and ate the freshly (under)baked cookies they had for us, and I imagined how much fun my sister and her friends will have, no matter where they live. I reminisced about how much fun I’d had, and my mind came back to something I think about probably all too often—what my single friends are doing now.

They’re following their dreams in law school, grad school or careers. They’re doing things for themselves. They’re dancing, partying, having fun. I’m getting up at 7 AM, changing diapers and watching television all day long, and going to bed early. I’m not even twenty-four. While I love Ryan and Hayden and I know this is where I belong, I can’t help but feel jealous of my friends who can still live for themselves.

Yesterday as I was back in my single stomping grounds, I reminisced about how I spent my singlehood—in those conveniently enclosed hallways. There was one boy in particular. I wanted so badly for him to care about me—not in a romantic way, though. I wanted him to be my best (guy) friend, my greatest confidant. And while he wanted to be my friend, he never could give me the depth of friendship that I needed. After I moved out of those apartments (and into Ryan’s neighborhood), he and I spoke only twice.

Last night, after stoking the fires of nostalgia all afternoon, I came home to Ryan waiting for me on the couch. He invited me to curl up with him. As I settled into his arms, I realized that Ryan was the friend that I’d yearned for years earlier, my greatest confidant. And while my friends do get to pursue their dreams now, I know I’m where I belong.