Momming

So since I've been home from my trip, it seems like all I can think about is my kiddos. The one on the way, and the one who's very much here and already immersed in every aspect of my life. It's seriously been a little overwhelming how much my thoughts have been completely hijacked by these two little people and my role in their lives. It is ALL I can focus on for any length of time.

I know part of this is the nesting process. It could also be that I'm experiencing a bit of whiplash. After spending five weeks on the road without being able to prepare for the new baby in the ways I normally would have been during that time, maybe now I've been flung to the extreme other end of the spectrum, finding myself with the overwhelming urge (NEED) to prepare. But it's a little over the top, since in all likelihood I have two more months to go (due date: December 15th).

But I think it's also more than just nesting. I have been full of intense reflections on mothering in general. As much as I've been focused on our boy-to-be, I've been equally immersed in thoughts about parenting Annabel and how best to care for her heart right now. For whatever reasons (and I have many ideas about what those may be), we've been experiencing new challenges in parenting her since we got home from our trip. It's taken an extra measure of patience, intentionality, and energy to give her what (we think) she's needed over this past week.

All of this kid-pondering has super-charged my reflections on being a mom in general. I have had such a journey with my momming over the last three and a half years. Maybe some of you moms can relate to this, but honestly, I feel like I am just beginning to find my groove with the whole parenting thing. The whole being-a-mom thing, and how that fits into my identity and sense of self.

I've often had a real love-hate relationship with the adjustment to being a parent. I love my daughter; I love watching her grow; I love the new spectrum of human experience that I get to understand and be a part of. I love how being a mom connects me to other women, and other people. I love how it's grown me up and matured me, and I've loved watching it grow my husband up in some cool ways as well. I've loved seeing what it brings out in him and I've loved becoming a "family" (since it sounded weird to say that when it was just the two of us, even if it was true). I love sewing for my daughter and taking pictures of her and discovering all the things I see in her that uniquely reflect me and Nate. Becoming a mom is an experience I would never, ever trade away.

But I've really struggled with it, too. I've wrestled with losing my sense of control over my time and my agenda, and feeling like my "space" is no longer existent. (I recently saw some word-art on Pinterest that resonated a little too much - it said, "We used to want it all. Now we just want to pee alone." That captures this pretty well.) I struggle with how much work and intentionality it takes to get away and have that space. I feel like mothering so often flies in the face of my needs and preferences as an introvert, not to mention all the other ways I used to enjoy spending my time (since that's how I viewed it - as MY time). I've wrestled with what it means to keep my identity as "Debra Joy" instead of getting lost in "Annabel's mommy." That's been a BIG one.

Actually, that's one of the issues that God's been bringing to a head recently: my fierce need to maintain an identity separate from being a mom. Before I had babies, I swore that I would not lose myself once they came along. It seemed like some of the moms I'd known had no sense of self apart from being Mom to their kids, and I was determined not to let that happen. I had worked so hard to figure out who Debra Joy was, and her relationship with God, and I couldn't deal with losing a grip on that.

And in a way, this is a good thing - I definitely don't want to saddle my kids with the emotional responsibility of being my whole purpose for living. They need the freedom to live their own lives, knowing that I have mine too, and that as much as I love them and would do anything for them, being their mom is not all there is to me. I firmly believe that will be a good and healthy thing for them.

But because I've been so insistent on not losing myself, it's robbed me from enjoying the good changes inherent in being a mom.  It's like a part of me refuses to admit that life is different now, that things have changed. Instead of expanding my sense of "Debra Joy" identity to include and integrate being a mom, it's as though that identity has stubbornly stuck its head in the sand and fought to keep on being Debra Joy, the way she was before - the girl who existed before the need for near-constant energy and attention devoted to another little life. The Debra Joy who could journal whenever she wanted, go out to coffee with a friend whenever she wanted, the Debra Joy who could count on having uninterrupted hours to be alone.

But lately, God's been challenging me to let go a bit of my determination to hang onto my non-mom sense of self. Rather than getting lost in being a mom, I feel more like I've lost being a mom. Sure, I am a mom, and I am very invested in parenting Annabel intentionally and lovingly, and all of those things. I do the momming thing. But at my core, I have resisted being identified by that role, and in fighting that battle a little too hard, I think I've verged on losing something precious: the JOY of being a mom.

It's hard to articulate, but it's felt like this constant tension. I'll sense this delight welling up in something about Annabel or caring for her, but then I'll have this confused reaction: "I'm enjoying this. But wait - I was supposed to be journaling right now instead of watching Annabel make up dance moves. She's keeping me from doing the thing I really want and need to do right now. I resent that. But look, she's so cute! ...But when am I going to be able to journal?!?..." And so on. Not a perfect example but you get the idea. Fighting so hard for the things that used to bring me joy and life has, in some way, robbed me of the joy and life that's right in front of me via my beautiful little girl.

I spent a couple years wondering (and feeling somewhat guilty and frustrated) about the fact that I didn't feel that overwhelming enjoyment of my daughter that it seemed like other moms felt. Even when she was a newborn, it took me about six weeks to feel what I would call "bonded" to her. I came up with all kinds of reasons why this might be. But I think the most basic reality is that all during that time, this battle was going on: this tension between enjoying her, and fighting for what I thought I needed to be happy and feel like "myself."

This past August I realized how much HUGE shame I was carrying around regarding my parenting, and I think a lot of it had to do with this whole issue. I always felt like I was holding back some crucial kind of love or attention from Annabel, even though I knew I was going through the motions of caring for her well. I couldn't put a finger on it but I felt this guilt eating away at me. Now I realize that it was this part of me that resented her role in my life - the way "having" to be a mom was competing with my agenda, with the things I "needed" to do to maintain my old sense of self. I panicked about her growing up with this gnawing sense that ultimately, she was a burden, that her needs were second-place, that she wasn't deeply wanted and valued.

Through a prophetic prayer from one friend, pivotal conversations with another friend, and some major hashing-out with Nate and the Lord, here's what God's been showing me: I need to let the old Debra Joy be just that - the old Debra Joy. The college me, the single me, the newlywed me. In a way that part of me needs to die, but not to be dead and gone. She needs to die in order to be reborn and transformed into someone else - a Debra Joy who still holds all those things as part of her, but who is as equally rooted in being Mommy as she is in being introvert, journaler, Jesus-worshipper, wife, friend, counselor. By living in fear of losing those things, I've not only not successfully maintained them, but I've also lost the priceless joy and wonder of getting lost in being a mom.

And really, this all does come down to fear. I've been SO.AFRAID. of losing control of my life that, ironically, I actually have. My "need" to maintain the kind of life that used to work for me has actually taken control and robbed me of the beautiful life I could have been experiencing these past three years since my daughter was born.

And it makes me mad. I feel like I cheated myself.

But it's okay, because I also feel the shift. The change is happening. It started with my recognizing all of this, and came to a head when Nate said to me, "I think that when you feel like you want to do something for Annabel or just enjoy her, if you just gave into that and didn't worry so much about when you'd be able to the other things you were planning on, you'd be a lot happier." So basically, if when I feel the urge to be a mom, I just give into that (rather than fighting it for the sake of "my needs"), I'll probably be a whole lot better off. And, I might find that I actually get a whole lot of life and fulfillment from doing all those mom things that I thought were going to steal away my life and fulfillment.

Basically: by dying to myself, I might gain (gasp) Life. The Life I want. The Life Jesus said we'd gain if we were willing to give up what we've clung to as life-giving. In this case, I might actually get to experience mothering as the fulfilling and beautiful thing I always wanted it to be (which is exactly what that first friend prayed for me, without having any clue what I was processing).

And it's been happening. It's little moments like last night, when Annabel "interrupted" a show I was watching with Nate by asking with irresistible cuteness to show me something upstairs that was going to be "so fun!" Instead of resisting that urge to enjoy the moment with her, because I "needed" to be able to focus on my show, I paused it and followed her upstairs to discover the "train tracks" she had created with legos across the entire length of the kitchen. She was SO proud. And if I'd resisted her invitation, I would have missed the chance to affirm her creativity and enjoy her 3-year-old accomplishment. I had no regrets.

So, this is what I mean when I say that I think I'm finally finding my groove in being a mom: really, it's just finding out what it means to be Debra Joy all over again, including being a mom. As much as I wish I would have come to this three years ago, I'm just so grateful to have come to it now, as I await yet another life-transforming addition of a new person to our family. This is probably the best, most worthwhile kind of nesting.