(This post is a bit wandering and rambling. . . .)
In Genesis 3:16, after the Fall, God tells Eve that part of her punishment is that she will have pain during childbirth. I have blogged about this before (here), but I want to hit on it from a different angle.
My past blog was about how men struggle with making work their god and how women struggle with making their children their god(s) and how I believe that is part of the sin we deal with as a result of the Fall (not just that man will have to work the ground and that birthing a baby will be excruciating).
Today I want to blog about that "labor pain" as a continual "pain" or struggle or sin for a mom. . . . like struggling with making my children my god(s), I also struggle with pride around my children and it has been breaking my heart lately. My identity is so often wrapped up in who's mom I am and the pride I have in getting to be their mom and it is barely containable sometimes. I'm so proud of each of my kids when I am in their world or when I am "_______'s Mom." And I think to a certain extent, that is good pride. I'm so grateful to be their mom. I love them so much and I know what amazing people they are and I just love being "_______'s Mom." I think that is the kind of pride that God sees me with. "That's my girl," He thinks about me.
That isn't the pride I'm talking about. The pride I've been struggling with has been two fold. For starters, it is the obvious pride that we get in our children when they are great at something. I'm proud of Hays for how well he did at A&M in the Corps and how great he is doing in his marriage and going after his dream of becoming a pilot. I'm proud of Maggie for how exceptionally well she is doing at A&M and what an amazing woman of God she has turned out to be and how the joy of the Lord radiates through her. I am proud of Tiki for how far he has come since he was that crazy little boy I met in Rwanda and I am proud of how friendly he is and how he is then mascot everywhere he goes. I am proud of Dax for his accomplishments snowboarding and skateboarding and for what a kind gentleman he has turned into. I am proud of Gabby for the young lady she is becoming and how she pursues her dream of dancing on Broadway so tirelessly. I still think that all of that is good mama pride, but I have seen how that mama pride can turn dark when my pride gets hurt because my kids aren't living up to the standards that I have set for them or the world has set for them or they aren't living up to their potential.
I realize what a god my pride in my children has become when I am embarrassed by their failures. Tiki and Dax have struggled this year and have gotten into trouble at school because of those struggles. Today I was at a meeting at the school for Dax and the assistant principal said, "Welcome back" (because I had been there before regarding Tiki) and I just wanted to curl up and die. I was dreading this meeting already because my pride was hurting and that cut me to the core. My pride was hurting because I was making my kids failures be about me as a mom (which means that I'm probably making their awesomeness about me which is where the good pride thing is bad). . . . I was feeling like a bad mom because my kids were acting badly and I was embarrassed about what that said (to outsiders) about me. . . .
. . . . which kind of Segways me into the next part. . . . I know that I carry responsibility (and credit) for my children's behavior. I have been giving the instruction and the blessing of raising them up in the way they should go, so naturally, I feel responsible when they aren't walking down the straight and narrow every day. But how much of me should have died inside today when the administrator welcomed me back and how much of me should have stood there not embarrassed because I wasn't there for me. . . . ?
I have been so sad and so gloomy lately because of my kids and how I feel like I have failed (and am failing) as a mom. Where is the line between responsibility and pride in this case, I wonder? There have been several days since Mackay's death that I haven't even been able to get out of bed because my heart is breaking for my children and my relationship to/with them. I am so broken hearted that Mackay died and that I never got to build a relationship with him. He is my (step)son and I loved him with the heart of a mother and he never really knew me and I'll never get that relationship with him. I feel like that breaks my heart freshly every single morning. Hays and Maggie are thriving for the most part, but I know of their inner struggles and my heart breaks because I feel helpless. Tiki has been struggling with attachment and with seeing that every action has a consequence (good or bad); he just isn't capable of seeing the two as one because of his early childhood trauma. Dax is really struggling as the pain of losing his relationship with his father is overwhelming and he is trying to figure out how to cope with that pain (I pray daily that his heart can heal so he doesn't have to cope in life, but he can thrive). Gabby doesn't show much emotion at all and I feel like we don't know one another because I don't get to see what is inside her heart. Walker lives in the house, but we are virtually strangers passing in the night and I don't know how to be the stepmom of an 18 year old boy who is introverted and hurting and has a mom already who he loves and who loves him dearly. Lions and tigers and bears! Oh My! Right?
The bottom line is that I live in a home with four teenagers who seem to not really like me very much and it is killing me because I am wrapping all seven of my children up in a bow of my failures as a mom. I feel like a failure and that hurts my pride and I feel like a failure and it makes me hopeless because I feel like I am out of time. . . I am out of time with Mackay and I think that makes me panic a little bit because we don't know the number of days we have with any of our kids. I know that there is a time in almost all teenagers' lives when they love but don't really like their mom. I'm not that naive. I know that having a stepmom isn't always awesome and isn't always one's first choice. I know that all moms feel like failures at one time or another. But I think I'm finding that my pride is hurt because my world and my kids' worlds aren't perfect and shiny and happy and "scrapbook worthy." (Clearly I am feeling that on some level if I wanted to curl up and die in the principal's office today.)
Today, after I left the meeting, I couldn't stop the tears. . . the floodgates opened and I just cried because I feel so sad for where my kids are (sad for them) in certain areas and I think that sadness is okay if I take it to the Lord and give it to Him. Today I couldn't stop the tears because I feel like a stranger in my own home with my teenagers. I don't have the relationship with them that I had with Hays and Maggie or the relationship I wish I had with them. I know that circumstances are different, but it breaks my heart. I know that some of the situations they find themselves in are the result of me not doing a great job being a mom these past several years as I just survived and that breaks my heart. But I also know that some of the situations they find themselves in, they have to take responsibility for.
My hurt bursts with love for all of my kids--all seven. My heart breaks when their hearts are breaking. And my heart breaks because I feel like I've failed them and/or that they don't like me (I do know they love me). And it is that breaking heart that has me in a real fog lately. The sinfulness of my pride was spotlighted this morning when I got my "welcome back" and when I take all of the blame as a bad mom for the poor choices being made. I think that being sad when your kids are sad isn't bad until it overtakes you or until you take 100% of the responsibility for their pain or their choices.
So what to do with my sadness as I walk around feeling like an unwelcome stranger in my home admits my teenagers? In the past, I always had at least one younger child in the home who adored me and now I'm just surrounded by teenagers. . . .
I need the wisdom and the strength to live each day to the fullest and to not stop loving and not stop raising my kids. I need the courage to parent them well and to love with a big heart even if sometimes it annoys them. I need the courage to set boundaries and I need the courage to redirect with gentleness and patience. I need the eyes of The Father to see them for whose they are (His) and to believe that I, too, am His. I need to believe the truth that my kids do love me and they see me, even if they don't always like me. I also need to remember that being a teenager is hard and it is even harder when you want to spread your wings and fly, but you stuck in the nest for just a little while longer.
I'm so thankful that I have seven kids who can break my heart because that means that I have seven kids who I love with all of my heart. I won't get Mackay back and I won't get the opportunity to build a relationship with him, but I won't ever stop loving him and striving to be my best for him, too. Being a mom is so hard and so much harder when I make my children my gods. I need to keep my eyes on the One who loves me and the One who is my God and allow everything else to fall gently into place.
I also need to remember, as Dax was quick to remind me today, that Marc loves me so deeply. Dax was so sweet to understand that I felt unliked by my kids and he didn't justify that or make excuses, but he did sweetly remind me that they all love me and fiercely remind me that Marc is a kind and generous and loving man who adores me like no other. Thank you, Dax.
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