Sacrifice

We aren’t supposed to talk about the sacrifices we make to be mothers.

Yes – we will acknowledge that we give up our bodies (ugh!), our money, and our free-time. And, of course, we follow up any complaint with, “But, I’d do it all again for those beautiful babies!”

And, that last part is true.

Well, it’s true for me, and I think most mothers. You love those babies so much it hurts. The thought of losing them cuts deep, deep into your soul; it takes you to such a dark place that you can’t even fathom the possibility of it. 

But, at the risk of sounding ungrateful, I’m going to talk about the other sacrifices we make as mothers. 

When I considered having children, people would drop little hints of the unknown sacrifices. But, with a huge smile on their face and a giggle, they would say, “But, it is the most wonderful thing in the world!” Which, it really is the most wonderful thing in the world…Yet, I soon realized that the snicker, that little laugh, that was a tiny concealed glimpse into reality. They giggled, because it’s hell, and you just may lose yourself in the process. 

Let’s talk a little more about how you sacrifice your time. No, not just that the hours you used to spend watching television or going out. You give up every single minute of every single day. If you aren’t with the kids, you are cleaning up after them, washing their clothes, preparing snacks for school, washing jerseys, laying out clothes for tomorrow, and so on. You try to have adult conversations with your husband, but even those will be interrupted with multiple taps on the hip or a billion, “Mamma. Mamma. Mammas.” Even sleeping is not safe. You will find yourself getting angrily shaken awake multiple times a night, and no night’s sleep is ever guaranteed.

And, in your sleepless state, you will sacrifice your mind. The kids have made me a bit crazy, yes. However, what I mean is: you never think the same way again. The world becomes so much more terrifying. The metal slide you once looked at with nostalgia, has become a tetanus nightmare of heat and sharp edges. That weird old man that you’d just walk by with a nod and a half-smile…is a potential child-abductor. And, anytime you watch the news, you get sick to your stomach thinking about raising your children in this world we live in.  And, if your perspectives haven’t changed, then your thoughts have. Because, once you have kids, every second of every single day (broken record!), you think about them. It’s not obsessive. But, everything you do is in consideration of them. Even planning a night out…where will the kids go? Are they all healthy? Will the sleep well? What should I pack? Should I send snacks with them? What time do I have to be back to pick them up? Should we leave their car seats? Will they be able to get ahold of us? Should we not drink, just in case there is an emergency?

Sometimes, instead of the planning, you sacrifice your plans. I think this one is probably pretty taboo to even mention. And, it is very likely that I am just a selfish person, which I wouldn’t completely disagree with…

Not too long ago, we had some friends getting together. It’s the middle of winter; so, we all have a bit of cabin-fever. Heath and I were feeling overwhelmed with the house, our work, the kids’ winter craziness, and so on. Going out with some friends and having a laugh sounded great. But, we couldn’t find a sitter. We had to bow out, while other friends still got together. And…it made me mad. I was mad that we couldn’t go.

I was ever madder that no one ever told me that I would feel that way. I knew that I had to give up going out, unless I found a sitter. But, no one said, “You are really going to need a break, and sometimes you just won’t be able to do anything that you want to do, and it sucks.” Because, that’s true. There are days, weeks even, that I don’t do anything that I want to do. Most days I can squeeze in some of my garbage television programs or some Pinterest surfing after bedtime. But, other days I do nothing “for me.” 

And, as far as Heath goes? Ha! Heath who? Oh, the guy I wake up every night, when crawling into bed late, because I insist on staying up to have five seconds to myself? Oh, yeah, that guy. I wouldn’t know, because I have sacrificed my relationship too – or, at least parts of it. That may be a bit dramatic. But, I believe it to be mostly true. We have to literally work on ways to connect. We have to make effort to even have conversations! We have to have date nights, and daily texts, just to feel like we are doing more than co-parenting as really great roommates. And, full-disclosure, sex becomes this quiet, rushed thing, which happens in the same place, behind a locked door. Anything more is just gonna have to wait until the kids are out of the house, or we’re 50…

Now, this isn’t supposed to be a “don’t have kids” post. Because, they are wonderful and they make my heart so incredibly full, and I seriously would do it again. But….we have to stop making it seem easy. I feel like our generation is the first to stand up and be like, hey! WTF? This is way harder than anyone said it was going to be and anyone else made it look. Everyone has been hiding the work, the difficulty, the struggle. It isn’t realistic, and exactly who are we hiding it for?

It is hard. It is so hard. It’s time. It’s money. It’s work. It’s patience. And, it is a lot of sacrifice.

I’d do it again. Yes. But, I’d be lying if I wasn’t mad sometimes about how much I have to give. I give, and I give, and I give. And, sometimes, I just want to do what I want to do. And, sometimes, I get mad that I can’t. And, that’s okay. It is okay to feel selfish. We signed up for this, yes. But, we didn’t decide to bottle our feelings and pretend they don’t exist.

So, let’s stop pretending that we’re all happy to give our everything. Because, I for one, struggle with it sometimes. And, I can’t be the only one…

(Oh, and, a little thank you from the kids would help too. That should happen sometime…hmmm…never.)

Then, I’ll Feel Pretty.

I specifically remember being in junior high, looking in the mirror and thinking, “After I get my braces off, then I’ll feel pretty.” 

I got them off and felt like a million bucks. Soon, I shifted my thoughts though…My body was alright and all; but, I didn’t have abs. I believed, “If I could just do a bunch of sit-ups each day, then I’ll feel pretty.”

As a young teenager, I felt comfortable enough with myself to not obsess over my insecurities. I didn’t hide in the locker room, or shy away from situations where I was the center of attention. But, I still felt like I could look better. I wasn’t like the models on TV or in magazines. And, I wasn’t “as skinny” as so-and-so was…

Senior year, butt dimples appeared. I was crushed. At 18, I started hiding behind clothes in the locker room and I became very insecure about my increasing weight. I’d let go of this idea of abs. Now, if only I could have a toned butt, then I would feel pretty.

It was that summer after senior year that I caught a glimpse of the back of my legs in a mirror. And, I was sick to see…hail damage – as I’ve heard it so offensively called. My hamstrings were not toned “enough,” and I swore that I wouldn’t wear shorts again, until I “fixed it.” Once I toned my legs, I would feel pretty.

The freshman 15 in college showed up, and then perhaps 15 more…

I cried and cried to Heath about my insecurities. If I could just lose the weight again, then I would feel pretty.

At 20, I started weight watchers. I lost the weight. I felt great. But, those love handles… My body profile was just so thick. I needed a tiny waist. If I could manage to lose just a few more pounds, then I would feel pretty.

The next few years, I tanned in tanning beds. I dyed my hair. I got mani/pedis. I bought new clothes. But, I would still obsess over what to wear, to hide my thick middle area. And, that’s when my “bat wings” showed up. When I waved, my arm skin would jiggle. I swore off tank-tops. 

Then, I got pregnant. All of a sudden, those silly insecurities flew out the window. They were laughable, actually. The next two years would be the hardest for me to ever endure in regard to my own body image. I gained a lot of weight – 54 lbs actually. And, I was not blessed with a forgiving body at that. I got stretch marks in places I didn’t even know one could get stretch marks. Maybe more water would have helped; but, my doctor assured me that it is mostly a genetic thing. Awesome. Sorry, Lucy and Olive…

Accepting this new me, which could never be changed back was difficult. I held on to the idea for so long that I was somewhat in control of my looks. Just some hard work could make it better, if I became motivated enough to do it. But, stretch marks? Well, hello there! Welcome to my life, we’re gonna be together for…ev…er. 

At 24, I lost the weight and was very close to my pre-pregnancy weight. But, my body was not the same. This was the time when I wished I had worn the shorts, worn the tank tops, felt comfortable in the body that I look back on now with appreciation…and sadness…

As I aged, and more babies came alone, I thought that weight loss, and clear skin, and better hair, and tan skin, and wrinkle cream, could all make me feel pretty. If only I could fix this or that, I’d feel pretty…

Now, these may sound like the ramblings of someone who suffers from body image issues. Truth is, I don’t. Yes, I go through at least ten outfits any time I’m going out. Yes, I watch makeup tutorials on YouTube, and died a little when I had to search for “makeup tutorial for under-eye wrinkles.” Yes, I dye my hair. Yes, I sometimes stare in the mirror for ten to fifteen minutes before jumping into the shower, just assessing what I got going on. And, yes, I watch Botched on E! and wonder what Dr. Dubrow would do to “fix me up.” 

But, it isn’t an unhealthy obsession for me. I truly believe that my feelings are not uncommon. I may be vainer than some, but I am also less vain than some. Nevertheless, I think to some level many people feel this. For moms, I feel like it is much more amplified. Perhaps I’ll go into that another time…

This past summer, I certainly spent too much time focusing on my body image issues. After being put on an anxiety medication, I started to gain weight very quickly. I have always eaten like garbage for the most part, but am pretty good at maintaining. It was all that baby weight following me around. This time though, on this medication, was the first time I gained uncontrollably. It was the middle of bathing suit weather and I was carrying around much more weight than my clothes or I were used to. Then, out of nowhere, I started to get marks on my face that may or may not have been perioral dermatitis (a form of eczema). It was summer! And, here I was packing on layers of clothing and makeup. I was supposed to be in shorts and tank tops, with no makeup. It was a low for me.

Soon, I got my hair dyed a new color and got a new cut. And, my doctor gave me some medicine to clear up my face disease. I was feeling better. One day, as the kids sat in the bathtub, I studied myself in the mirror. I thought to myself, “Now, if only I could lose this weight, I would feel pretty. I would feel content. Yes, I’m old. But, this weight is really what is dragging me down.”

And, I realized - It is always something.

I think back to my 18 year old self not wearing shorts and I want to shake that girl! Or, the girl who wouldn’t wear tank-tops. Or, the girl who thought she needed abs to feel confident. I can’t even put into words the disappointment I have with her – my past self. 

As I age, I am getting better and better at these things. I think about them less, and I rely on my personality to state my worth. It is hard though, because I still want to look nice. I still want people to think I’m pretty, as well as nice, fun, kind, humorous, etc. But, it’s amazing how age, and kids, relist your priorities in so many ways. I just didn’t expect my own insecurities to be among of them. 

As I gain some sort of wisdom from aging, I keep telling myself. It’s always something. I need to remember that young girl with the metal smile, the girl hiding in the locker room, and the girl layering clothing. Remember how silly she was! And, I know that when I’m 60 (God willing), I’ll look back at this 32 year old and think, “Damn, girl! You were foine!” ;)

While I am still insecure, I am okay with it. It is a part of my life. More than ever before, I can shrug off my insecurities. Yes – I still have random break-downs, where “I have absolutely nothing to wear!” and times when I call myself fat or chubby. But, I don’t find it messing with my happiness, and I don’t let it keep me from being me (most of the time). 

It’s always something…so, I might as well enjoy what I have, while I have it.

I'm Trying...Very Trying

I am currently in the process of reading Girl, Wash Your Face by Rachel Hollis. I’ve been reading it for a few months now. 

A few months?

 

Yes, it has been a slow process. It isn’t because I haven’t enjoyed the book. In fact, there were times when I didn’t want to put it down.  But, I have been reading it with a group of women that I meet with weekly. I call them my “women’s group.” 

(I am very creative with names, obviously.) 

It is a small group of young, Christian mothers, who are wanting to…well….do better – in life, as a wife, as a mother, and in the eyes of Christ. We want to feel like our paths have purpose and bring us closer to God. 

This group started when we were presented with the book and study guide for The Purpose Driven Life… As a mom, you sometimes lose sight of yourself, and wonder what your purpose is.

Is it possible that being the mother to Lucy, Olive, and Henry is what I was meant for? Am I supposed to be doing something bigger? More grandeur?  

All questions that can sometimes be daunting during my late night, anxiety-driven talks with God. So, one of my friends decided to start this group, asking other women who attend our church to join. We started reading the book and meeting once a week to discuss the study guide questions. Since then, we have moved from book to book, reading and discussing, while finding imperative support in one-another. I absolutely love that group of ladies and I don’t ever want our “women’s group” to end.

With that being said, we recently decided to read Girl, Wash Your Face. While it isn’t necessarily a Christian book, we felt like it would align with our stages in life right now. We found a study guide online and dove in, just before the holidays. As you can imagine, with the holidays, we didn’t meet as regularly. Then, sickness hit, and our meetings have been spottier and spottier. It happened last year at this time and it will happen again next year.  

We started with one chapter a week. Then, we began to double-up. With so many cancelled meetings, I have truly just lost track of the chapters. I have no clue what one we are supposed to be on for our next meeting (when we can all actually make it!). I am considering just finishing the book, to be prepped whenever we meet again. But, there is another reason I am trying not to read ahead.

You see, I think a lot. I am completely fascinated by people, by society, and why we do what we do. I can barely observe anything, or read or hear about anything without immediately trying to dissect the motives, perspectives, effects, etc. It’s a curse, perhaps. And, as I read Rachel’s words, I have so much to say! I have so much to ask, discuss, add to, or even challenge. I think of how I can incorporate her tips, and add my own “things that worked for me.”

When I prepare to write a blog, right after reading her book, my thoughts get clouded and the thoughts that she has provoked creep in. And, I don’t ever want what I put out into the world to mimic or reiterate what someone else has already done. I want to make sure my thoughts are my own, and inspired by my own continual yearning to “do better.”

And…….wasn’t that a long-winded way of getting to my point?

Because, that is my point…I think. 

Rachel Hollis, and about a zillion other authors, have made thousands of dollars on writing books that inspire us or teach us to “do better.” While Rachel makes us feel positive about our efforts, she provides us all with ways to improve certain aspects of our life – tips that require effort. Tips that require trying.

This is a concept that I am still getting used to, believe it or not.

For years, I have expected to have certain things in my life come easily. And, while there are certainly ebbs and flows, most things are difficult at some point. Relationships, jobs, parenting, time-management, cooking, confidence, health, and so on. All things, including Rachel’s tips, need work and require a lot of “trying” on our part.

My last post was about parenting, and that if I just keep trying to do better, then I will be happy with that. And today, as I was driving, I was thinking about marriage.

Sometimes, I get so upset with Heath when he brings up something that he is bothered by, no matter how major or minuscule it is. I will make a suggestion to Heath about something, like, “Hey! Don’t put your cup there. It drives me nuts.”

Very subtle.

Then, he generally apologizes and we move on. But, when Heath make a suggestion to me, like, “Don’t pull so far forward in the garage”…well, I don’t always handle it the best.

And, when Heath makes a suggestion that is even more than just making a conscious effort to park better, like asking me to sit by him to watch a movie or give him more affection, I really don’t handle it well.

(Side note: I am not a very “touchy person;” it’s a work in progress. And, I realize it is likely a character flaw.)

Heath makes very warranted, and by most standards easy, requests. But, for some reason, I get irritated.

As I watched the yellow dashes of the highway quickly disappear beside the car, I came to a conclusion. I get mad because, I know he is right and I know that it will require effort on my part. I realize that I am going to have to try harder.

After a long day of waking the kids, getting them around for school, making sure they have everything they need (snacks, lunch money, book bags, gloves, hats, etc.), grading for my online classes, replying to emails, cleaning the house, starting dinner, picking up the kids, playing with Henry, taking care of the dogs, planning out our week, making grocery lists, sending cards, paying bills, setting the table, helping the kids with their homework, and so-on, and so-on, and so-on…I just don’t know if I have the energy to try even more. I try so hard to be a good mom through my children’s eyes, through Heath’s eyes, and through society’s eyes. I try to keep a clean house and cook well for my family (my love language). I try to keep everything going and running smoothly. I try, and I try, and I try. And, well, when Heath asks me to try some more, I want to pull my hair out.

I know I should. Of course I should! Why should my marriage take a back seat to anything else? It certainly should not. In fact, one could argue that it is more important than parenting, and I wouldn’t completely disagree. But, for me, it is the one thing that sometimes gets put on auto-pilot. We co-exist A LOT. We are constantly having conversations about things we should do to connect; we recognize the importance of working on us. Yet, it is usually the first thing, for us, to lower on the list of priorities.

As I sit in this conclusion of mine, I realize life is so exhausting because there is no end to the trying (on this earth, anyway). It isn’t like I can just decide to be the best wife ever for….let’s say, even a year, and then go back to complacency. It is something I will have to try at my whole life. And, I really should be happy to.

But, I also need to try at a lot of other things, which don’t go away either – parenting, familial relationships, friendships, my relationship with God, my health, and just improving myself. There are certainly days when I can be lazy about each and every one of them; but, overall, I have to put forth effort. I have to try, if I want to find my happiness.

While this entire concept and realization is kind of a hard one to swallow, because I really dreamed of day that I can just be content with my life and have all of the “work” behind me, I think it’s a good epiphany for me to have. Once I accept the true effort required to foster these aspects of my life, I can do better. And, I know that they are all so very worth it.

Practice makes perfect, and I’m gonna give it hell.  Here is to more effort, and to more trying.