After Noah was born, I spent a lot of time telling myself, I can't. I've written before that I eventually found the second half of that statement to be ...but God can! Now that Rosie's been here for a year, I'm finally seeing the hidden subtext I'd never noticed before: When I say I can't, I'm really beating myself up because the message is, "I should be able to, BUT I can't."
This has been a revelation to me in the past week or so. The embarrassing is, I'm not trying to hold the world up on my shoulders and do all the things. To many, my calendar might look pretty clear. So when I'm saying I can't, it's not in response to not being able to run the local MOPS group single-handedly. I'm saying I can't get through the day with my kids without having moments of wanting to run away for a week. I can't stop myself from yelling when discipline gets challenging (the fatigue of a second child is definitely bringing out the yeller in me that I had pridefully thought wasn't there before). I can't organize fun activities for the kids when it takes everything in me to get out of bed again.
I have trouble sharing and verbalizing these things because many of my friends have more kids. They have more obligations. They work more hours outside the home. And if they don't, well, I find myself feeling bitter and resentful that they DO have more money, or more childcare, or family in town, or a bigger house.
I'm seeing that humility goes both ways: I can feel shame in feeling like I've been given more than I can handle, and I can feel shame in the fact that I can't handle more.
Last weekend, I listened to a podcast episode on self-care and self-comfort. I really liked the distinction between the two, and the suggestions they discussed. I asked some friends what they did for self-care and self-comfort. More as a conversation starter than anything, but it brought out some ugly responses in my mind. Why CAN'T I get up in the morning before my kids if the mom of three under three can? Why CAN'T I go to the gym in the morning and put my kids in childcare? My answers ranged from practical to petty: I can't wake up before my kids because I'm often awake either multiple times or for for multiple hours between 2-5am. I can't go to the gym in the morning because I'm already anxious about germs after how bad last winter was, and since Rosie still takes morning naps, I can't be at the gym first thing before other kids and their germs start to filter in.
Then I started beating myself up about the fact that I still haven't figured out how to work out consistently with two kids around. (Sleep-deprived monkey brain is a REAL THING.) Then I remembered that Rosie and I were sick for about 4 months straight from mid-October through mid-February, including several ER visits and one inpatient stay. And once the sickness passed, she was in a habit of waking up every 45-90 minutes for WEEKS and I was so exhausted I had to take the month of March off of work completely. So then self-flagellation turned to self-pity, which quickly went down the path of "no one understands how hard my life is." I'm left trying to justify my own difficulties and my own capacity, which is really unnecessary.
Clearly, I'm not in a good head space. But God has been gracious to me in that he seems to be giving me some tools and insights to get out of this vicious cycle. When we night-weaned and sleep trained a month ago, I had really high hopes. I registered for a month with a personal trainer. I bookmarked a bunch of new recipes. I checked out a ton of parenting books from the library. And you know what? If anything, we are sleeping LESS. HUMILITY YOU GUYS. He's leaving no doubt in my mind that the ONLY things I can focus on right now are the basics: sleeping, eating, breathing, walking. I can dive deeper into these disciplines instead of trying to cast a wider net of "shoulds."
The funny thing is, I've been beating myself up for A YEAR thinking, if I can just find the best devotional routine, or a quick mid-day recharge, or a self-care routine, or a daytime babysitter for 2 hours a week, I can find rest in the midst of the crazy. I have no doubt that God invites us to rest in the midst of the crazy. Even Jesus went away to be alone (and sometimes got interrupted when he did).
But sleep deprivation is real. I constantly feel like I'm coming down with the flu. My whole body hurts and I'm tired down to my bones. My short-term memory is shot, and my word and name recall is just embarrassing. Instead of adding more "self-care" things to my list of obligations, maybe I need to remove some of the "self-harm" things? The social media that's fine in and of itself, until I spend the precious little free time I get scrolling on my phone. The playdates that I like to plan because they mean getting out of our messy house, and they occupy my 4 year old so he's not constantly pestering me, but they also interfere with a daily routine and leave me tired AND missing out on my 45-60 minutes of mid-day down time.
This even extends to my other work, minimal as it might be. My hospital job was my very favorite thing before Rosie was born, but it's been a struggle for the past year. Maybe it was maternity leave: the bliss of having every single weekend free for three months. Or maybe it's just that now I need more downtime to balance out more chaos. Whatever it is, I'm just over here trying to maintain the status quo until God gives me some clear direction one way or another. I ALMOST quit in March, which is a whole post of its own. But I haven't written it yet, because everything still feels so undetermined.
My lactation consultant home-visit business has been, surprisingly, growing. I see one client a week, and often turn another 1-2 down because of time constraints. When I only have a few consistent rest times during the week, seeing a client during that time and striving to get both kids down and quiet and tidy up the house... is burning me out. And as always in my life, I have trouble distinguishing between whether I'm being called to push through and do the hard work, or whether I'm being called to lay that work down.
So I wait. And I'm faithful with the bare minimum: sleeping, eating, breathing, walking.
Because when I acknowledge that I CAN'T, I'm really acknowledging that I'm not God. And that's RIGHT where I need to be.
Tuesday, September 18, 2018
Monday, September 10, 2018
When the Weather Changes but Your Season Doesn't
For as long as I can remember, summer has been my favorite season. It's when I recharge, fill my bucket, and remember everything I love about life. I live for hot days, farmers markets, long morning walks, and late sunsets. But I don't know... this summer, I never got into the groove.
Usually, the end of summer finds me feeling nostalgic and overflowing with gratitude for how I grew and how life changed over the months that span between Memorial Day and Labor Day. Yet this year's Labor Day came and went a week ago, and I can't muster up any sort of comprehensive feeling about this summer. It just kind of happened, and that is all. But what's even more alarming is that, if I'm perfectly honest, I was pretty over summer by early July. I don't know if I was tired of the weather, or the season of newly-mobile-baby, or sleepless nights, or what. It all probably blends together, honestly.
The thing is, the life season I'm in isn't bad. It's not overly heavy or traumatic or anything like that. But when I think a little more, there are a lot of external factors that have created a cumulative sort of chaos. Some of the stories aren't mine to share. Some of it is just work stress from Ross' promotion and my own unit being short-staffed. And some factors are simply a product of living with two little people.
This past spring, I really found comfort in the idea that you don't have to be blooming to be growing; yet, even that has led to some guilt. I know I'm not putting disciplines and practices in place to deepen my roots-- instead, I'm just making it from one day to the next, putting off the hard work until "tomorrow." And here I am, one hundred "tomorrows" later, feeling like I didn't put any work in to change my season.
But do you know what's astounding to me? In the past few weeks, God has poured kindness upon me in a million little ways I wasn't expecting. I feel really undeserving.
If you catch me in a moment, I'm probably going to give you two dozen reasons why my life feels out of control today (sorry friends). But honestly, while those reasons are giving me total monkey brain, they aren't weighing me down like they could. I'm really grateful for that. God seems to be reminding me that it's his work and not mine that will make the difference, and I feel... okay about that.
A few weeks ago, we finished up summer travel. Ross didn't have a work trip for a while, and Noah was about to start preschool again. So we decided it was time to night wean Rosie. Sometimes she was waking up 1-2 times a night, but other times she'd be up at 11pm, 2am, and 5am and that's just too much at 12 months. So we night weaned and really after the first night, she did so well with it! She slept from 7:30pm-5am a few times, and I felt like I could take on the world.
I was making big plans: routines, exercise, maybe starting a podcast. But mostly I was more than ready to be a happier, more well-rested person. But you know, then she went back to waking up 1-2 times a night. I don't know why. And I had two weird little health crises (I'm mostly fine now). And Ross was out of town this past weekend. And today I'm feeling just as tired as I was a month ago, and more than a little discouraged. I realized I was expecting my life season to change along with the weather and the calendar. And when it didn't, I felt a little gypped.
But yesterday made me look back on the past 3-5 weeks with new eyes, and I can see a whole lot of kindness that has been bestowed upon me in spite of my disappointment and inaction. I'm going to a women's conference next month, and last night they shared this verse: "He who was seated on the throne said, 'Behold I am making all things new.' Also he said, 'write this down for these words are trustworthy and true.'" Revelation 21:5.
It's the second time in the past month that this promise for all things new has been pressed upon me. And it reminds me that HE is making all things new. It also reminds ME to write these things down so I don't forget sweet little ordinary (and not-so-ordinary) gifts from God.
... Noah's first week of school was astonishingly awful. School itself was fine the two days he was there. Home was a disaster, and it brought out what was possibly my very worst mothering week ever. It's funny, Jen Wilkin says, "the heart can't love what the mind doesn't know," and I've been beating myself up over this. I need to be reading my Bible daily. But you know what? Unbidden one morning (one of those long mornings in which so much chaos happened before 8am, I really should write it down so I can laugh about it years from now) a line from a hymn popped into my head: "I asked the Lord that I might grow, in faith and love and every grace." I couldn't remember the rest of the song, but looking it up brought me to tears and I listened to it on repeat for days. "'Tis in this way,' the Lord replied, 'I answer prayers for grace and faith.'"
... I've been wanting a mentor for YEARS. Six years, to be exact. I've had 3-4 tried-but-failed attempts at this, and honestly over the past year I'd kind of given up. Then you know what happened? A whole lot of stuff I don't know details of or have control over. We had a sudden change in MOPS leadership and I was telling the new coordinator about my hopes for the mentor mom who would be at my table. As I was ending our conversations, I said, "It's funny, I've been praying for a mentor for years, and for some reason God seems to be thwarting that plan." And a few days later, who but my new coordinator, one life season ahead of me and bursting with a love for discipleship, reached out to ME saying, "I can't stop thinking about what you said, and I want to be your mentor!" Really, God? Just like that? And then for good measure, our group shifted again and I ended up with a new mentor mom at my table and her church members just rave about her spiritual leadership skills. Okay, God, I'm paying attention.
... Our neighbor has borrowed our lawn mower a few times this summer. He borrowed it again on Saturday and, when he heard Ross was out of town, he went ahead and mowed our front lawn without saying anything. What a thoughtful little act of service, especially since Ross and I have been arguing about lawn care recently. (Because wouldn't you know, taking care of your yard costs time and money!)
... Last Wednesday, I was determined to start taking better care of myself. The kids were bumping around in my bedroom, but they were playing nicely together and no one was crying. So I sat on the couch and ate my breakfast in peace for 10-15 minutes. The oatmeal was still warm, and I didn't have to get up once. It was glorious and I felt re-charged. I got up to check on Noah and Rosie, and I couldn't even believe my eyes. They'd emptied the bottom rack of my closet, and the entire dresser, AND MY FILE CABINET and dumped it all on the side of the bed. The pile literally went from the bed to the wall and was as high as the mattress. Fifteen minutes of destruction that would require hours of repair. My attitude went south REALLY quickly, and never recovered that day.
Which is funny, because mid-morning, a friend texted me about the book she's reading called Desperate: Hope for the Mom who Needs to Breathe. She said, "Reading this book and thinking of you, because maybe it can be our next mom's book club pick. It is speaking to my heart! Just wanted to say you are so encouraging! I know your life is so crazy (and has been for a long time!) but I am really inspired by how you love your kids and even reach out to other women for the book club and breastfeeding and everything you do. I just see the Lord using you and refining you in this hard season in a way that only He could do, using your unique gifts and strengths. You are an amazing mom for your kids, and I'm so thankful to share life with you!" Well, that made me tear up and it gave me some new perspective.
... But then out of the blue, that same night, I started having crazy back spasms. Some sort of referred pain, not a muscle spasm (Flexeril, heating pad, and Advil did nothing). It was CRAZY. On par with labor in terms of pain, and even in terms of characteristics because I was having these spasms every few minutes, to the point of tears. The next day, I texted my friend back. I was still in pain, but it wasn't nearly as bad. Ross was leaving town the next morning, I needed to find childcare so I could get an abdominal ultrasound the next day, and all of this was going to cost MORE MONEY. I was frustrated because I try so hard to take care of my body and it still malfunctions often. I was having a pity party because I was going to be parenting alone and in pain all weekend. And despite all that, my sweet friend STILL invited the kids and me to dinner that weekend. We went over there on Saturday, and it was total chaos with Rosie opening cabinets and climbing stairs. Noah didn't fall asleep until 11pm after all the excitement, and I'd only slept for one hour the night before. But you know what? It filled me up to chat with my friend, and I was so grateful for her presence, and I slept great that night.
... Speaking of money and bodies that don't work, I lost two hearing aids this summer. One of mine and one of Noah's. With the new technology, they recommend buying two new ones since the aids "communicate" with each other. Which means 4 new pieces of medical equipment that insurance doesn't pay a dime for. But. Remember when Rosie was in the hospital last winter? And then when she went to the ER this spring? The ER visit cost $8,000 and it was a horrible experience. $8,000 for Benadryl, Advil, and a Nurse Practitioner visit? Just... no.
So I applied for financial aid, and we qualified. Which meant that we didn't have to pay for her inpatient stay, or for her ER visit, OR for any care that she received at that hospital through the end of the year. This was phenomenal news! It meant we could actually get her hearing tested at a one-year visit (this was recommended because of family history, but I was dreading it because our insurance doesn't cover it). It meant I could have our pediatrician order her one-year labs and allergy tests at the hospital, too. I'll happily drive across town for free lab work. It also MAYBE means that Noah's hearing test will be covered, as well as his hearing aids, since it all falls in this financial aid window. WHAT. We aren't positive that this is true, but I'm making all the phone calls. If it doesn't cover the aids themselves, I also applied for a grant that will cover 60%, which is better than nothing. Meanwhile, I'm going on 3.5 months with only one hearing aid and it's driving me crazy. I hate making medical decisions based on money. But I'm so grateful my kids have been covered.
... And then you know what was re-iterated three times at church yesterday? My transient troubles, and the power of God.
"Then will the eyes of the blind be opened, the ears of the deaf be cleared" (from Isaiah 35)
"The Lord gives sight to the blind" (from Psalm 146)
"And people brought to Jesus a deaf man who had a speech impediment, and begged him to lay hands on him... He put his finger into the man's ears... He looked up to heaven and groaned, and said to him, 'be opened!' And immediately the man's ears were opened." (from Mark 7)
Do I think God will give me perfect hearing tomorrow? I wouldn't hate it if he did! But I also know that he made me this way for a reason. He will provide for me, even if it's not as direct as free hearing aids. And the more important thing is that my ears are tuned to His voice.
... This this brings me to church yesterday. It was a sweet, sweet day, and it deserves its own post. Walking home yesterday afternoon, I was so tired but so full.
I'm writing it down. God is good. I feel seen and loved and undeserving and happy and really, really tired.
Usually, the end of summer finds me feeling nostalgic and overflowing with gratitude for how I grew and how life changed over the months that span between Memorial Day and Labor Day. Yet this year's Labor Day came and went a week ago, and I can't muster up any sort of comprehensive feeling about this summer. It just kind of happened, and that is all. But what's even more alarming is that, if I'm perfectly honest, I was pretty over summer by early July. I don't know if I was tired of the weather, or the season of newly-mobile-baby, or sleepless nights, or what. It all probably blends together, honestly.
The thing is, the life season I'm in isn't bad. It's not overly heavy or traumatic or anything like that. But when I think a little more, there are a lot of external factors that have created a cumulative sort of chaos. Some of the stories aren't mine to share. Some of it is just work stress from Ross' promotion and my own unit being short-staffed. And some factors are simply a product of living with two little people.
This past spring, I really found comfort in the idea that you don't have to be blooming to be growing; yet, even that has led to some guilt. I know I'm not putting disciplines and practices in place to deepen my roots-- instead, I'm just making it from one day to the next, putting off the hard work until "tomorrow." And here I am, one hundred "tomorrows" later, feeling like I didn't put any work in to change my season.
But do you know what's astounding to me? In the past few weeks, God has poured kindness upon me in a million little ways I wasn't expecting. I feel really undeserving.
If you catch me in a moment, I'm probably going to give you two dozen reasons why my life feels out of control today (sorry friends). But honestly, while those reasons are giving me total monkey brain, they aren't weighing me down like they could. I'm really grateful for that. God seems to be reminding me that it's his work and not mine that will make the difference, and I feel... okay about that.
A few weeks ago, we finished up summer travel. Ross didn't have a work trip for a while, and Noah was about to start preschool again. So we decided it was time to night wean Rosie. Sometimes she was waking up 1-2 times a night, but other times she'd be up at 11pm, 2am, and 5am and that's just too much at 12 months. So we night weaned and really after the first night, she did so well with it! She slept from 7:30pm-5am a few times, and I felt like I could take on the world.
I was making big plans: routines, exercise, maybe starting a podcast. But mostly I was more than ready to be a happier, more well-rested person. But you know, then she went back to waking up 1-2 times a night. I don't know why. And I had two weird little health crises (I'm mostly fine now). And Ross was out of town this past weekend. And today I'm feeling just as tired as I was a month ago, and more than a little discouraged. I realized I was expecting my life season to change along with the weather and the calendar. And when it didn't, I felt a little gypped.
But yesterday made me look back on the past 3-5 weeks with new eyes, and I can see a whole lot of kindness that has been bestowed upon me in spite of my disappointment and inaction. I'm going to a women's conference next month, and last night they shared this verse: "He who was seated on the throne said, 'Behold I am making all things new.' Also he said, 'write this down for these words are trustworthy and true.'" Revelation 21:5.
It's the second time in the past month that this promise for all things new has been pressed upon me. And it reminds me that HE is making all things new. It also reminds ME to write these things down so I don't forget sweet little ordinary (and not-so-ordinary) gifts from God.
... Noah's first week of school was astonishingly awful. School itself was fine the two days he was there. Home was a disaster, and it brought out what was possibly my very worst mothering week ever. It's funny, Jen Wilkin says, "the heart can't love what the mind doesn't know," and I've been beating myself up over this. I need to be reading my Bible daily. But you know what? Unbidden one morning (one of those long mornings in which so much chaos happened before 8am, I really should write it down so I can laugh about it years from now) a line from a hymn popped into my head: "I asked the Lord that I might grow, in faith and love and every grace." I couldn't remember the rest of the song, but looking it up brought me to tears and I listened to it on repeat for days. "'Tis in this way,' the Lord replied, 'I answer prayers for grace and faith.'"
... I've been wanting a mentor for YEARS. Six years, to be exact. I've had 3-4 tried-but-failed attempts at this, and honestly over the past year I'd kind of given up. Then you know what happened? A whole lot of stuff I don't know details of or have control over. We had a sudden change in MOPS leadership and I was telling the new coordinator about my hopes for the mentor mom who would be at my table. As I was ending our conversations, I said, "It's funny, I've been praying for a mentor for years, and for some reason God seems to be thwarting that plan." And a few days later, who but my new coordinator, one life season ahead of me and bursting with a love for discipleship, reached out to ME saying, "I can't stop thinking about what you said, and I want to be your mentor!" Really, God? Just like that? And then for good measure, our group shifted again and I ended up with a new mentor mom at my table and her church members just rave about her spiritual leadership skills. Okay, God, I'm paying attention.
... Our neighbor has borrowed our lawn mower a few times this summer. He borrowed it again on Saturday and, when he heard Ross was out of town, he went ahead and mowed our front lawn without saying anything. What a thoughtful little act of service, especially since Ross and I have been arguing about lawn care recently. (Because wouldn't you know, taking care of your yard costs time and money!)
... Last Wednesday, I was determined to start taking better care of myself. The kids were bumping around in my bedroom, but they were playing nicely together and no one was crying. So I sat on the couch and ate my breakfast in peace for 10-15 minutes. The oatmeal was still warm, and I didn't have to get up once. It was glorious and I felt re-charged. I got up to check on Noah and Rosie, and I couldn't even believe my eyes. They'd emptied the bottom rack of my closet, and the entire dresser, AND MY FILE CABINET and dumped it all on the side of the bed. The pile literally went from the bed to the wall and was as high as the mattress. Fifteen minutes of destruction that would require hours of repair. My attitude went south REALLY quickly, and never recovered that day.
Which is funny, because mid-morning, a friend texted me about the book she's reading called Desperate: Hope for the Mom who Needs to Breathe. She said, "Reading this book and thinking of you, because maybe it can be our next mom's book club pick. It is speaking to my heart! Just wanted to say you are so encouraging! I know your life is so crazy (and has been for a long time!) but I am really inspired by how you love your kids and even reach out to other women for the book club and breastfeeding and everything you do. I just see the Lord using you and refining you in this hard season in a way that only He could do, using your unique gifts and strengths. You are an amazing mom for your kids, and I'm so thankful to share life with you!" Well, that made me tear up and it gave me some new perspective.
... But then out of the blue, that same night, I started having crazy back spasms. Some sort of referred pain, not a muscle spasm (Flexeril, heating pad, and Advil did nothing). It was CRAZY. On par with labor in terms of pain, and even in terms of characteristics because I was having these spasms every few minutes, to the point of tears. The next day, I texted my friend back. I was still in pain, but it wasn't nearly as bad. Ross was leaving town the next morning, I needed to find childcare so I could get an abdominal ultrasound the next day, and all of this was going to cost MORE MONEY. I was frustrated because I try so hard to take care of my body and it still malfunctions often. I was having a pity party because I was going to be parenting alone and in pain all weekend. And despite all that, my sweet friend STILL invited the kids and me to dinner that weekend. We went over there on Saturday, and it was total chaos with Rosie opening cabinets and climbing stairs. Noah didn't fall asleep until 11pm after all the excitement, and I'd only slept for one hour the night before. But you know what? It filled me up to chat with my friend, and I was so grateful for her presence, and I slept great that night.
... Speaking of money and bodies that don't work, I lost two hearing aids this summer. One of mine and one of Noah's. With the new technology, they recommend buying two new ones since the aids "communicate" with each other. Which means 4 new pieces of medical equipment that insurance doesn't pay a dime for. But. Remember when Rosie was in the hospital last winter? And then when she went to the ER this spring? The ER visit cost $8,000 and it was a horrible experience. $8,000 for Benadryl, Advil, and a Nurse Practitioner visit? Just... no.
So I applied for financial aid, and we qualified. Which meant that we didn't have to pay for her inpatient stay, or for her ER visit, OR for any care that she received at that hospital through the end of the year. This was phenomenal news! It meant we could actually get her hearing tested at a one-year visit (this was recommended because of family history, but I was dreading it because our insurance doesn't cover it). It meant I could have our pediatrician order her one-year labs and allergy tests at the hospital, too. I'll happily drive across town for free lab work. It also MAYBE means that Noah's hearing test will be covered, as well as his hearing aids, since it all falls in this financial aid window. WHAT. We aren't positive that this is true, but I'm making all the phone calls. If it doesn't cover the aids themselves, I also applied for a grant that will cover 60%, which is better than nothing. Meanwhile, I'm going on 3.5 months with only one hearing aid and it's driving me crazy. I hate making medical decisions based on money. But I'm so grateful my kids have been covered.
... And then you know what was re-iterated three times at church yesterday? My transient troubles, and the power of God.
"Then will the eyes of the blind be opened, the ears of the deaf be cleared" (from Isaiah 35)
"The Lord gives sight to the blind" (from Psalm 146)
"And people brought to Jesus a deaf man who had a speech impediment, and begged him to lay hands on him... He put his finger into the man's ears... He looked up to heaven and groaned, and said to him, 'be opened!' And immediately the man's ears were opened." (from Mark 7)
Do I think God will give me perfect hearing tomorrow? I wouldn't hate it if he did! But I also know that he made me this way for a reason. He will provide for me, even if it's not as direct as free hearing aids. And the more important thing is that my ears are tuned to His voice.
... This this brings me to church yesterday. It was a sweet, sweet day, and it deserves its own post. Walking home yesterday afternoon, I was so tired but so full.
I'm writing it down. God is good. I feel seen and loved and undeserving and happy and really, really tired.
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