I wish I could but I never will forget the supreme loneliness I felt as a child.
And I suppose that is why, as an adult, I feel so committed to seeing children.
Physical presence is not enough.
Neither is saying “I care.”
It’s action.
Before I took the pills that landed me in the hospital, before I stood on the edge of the balcony threatening to jump, I cut myself as a way to ease the pain.
I was 12 years old.
So, when my daughter exhibits signs of distress,
I take her seriously.
When minimal interventions (intentional time together, changes to routine, etc.) fail to work, I take action: therapy, medication.
A day of rest guarantees a day’s worth of extra work for the future.
Never was this any clearer than when Elizabeth was six months old.
My body had given up.
I had spent the summer with all four girls at home while Emmett was at work.
They were ages 6, 4, 2 and newborn.
Elizabeth was “failure-to-thrive”. Not gaining weight, vomiting and crying constantly with eczema covering her body and we couldn’t figure out why.
I was down twenty pounds, eliminating foods in a desperate attempt to continue breast feeding my last baby, only to find out later that the avocado I was surviving on was one of her FPIES (Food Protein-Induced Entercolitis) triggers.
My back completely gave out and I was incapacitated in a chair watching friends and family trying to substitute for me: Laundry, meals, diapers, playtime, housework.
It was laughable to think I had attempted to manage all of that on my own.
I finally agreed to hire the help my husband had been encouraging me to get for months.
I felt foolish staying at home and hiring someone to help complete my unpaid job but once she arrived, I was free to be a more present mother and enjoy my children rather than just survive them.
Six years have passed and the nanny days are long over but mothering isn’t and I’m realizing, never will be.
What happens when mom gets sick?
It’s a lonely feeling.
As a mom, I’m always anticipating my family’s needs but when sick, I’m still having to direct the show from bed. Appointment reminders, meal tips, boo-boo kisses and bedtime tuck-ins.
Things only a mom knows of her own kids.
I suppose that is what led me to pray to my heavenly father tonight.
To ask him to take care of me when I’m feeling overwhelmed and neglected.
No, there are no sick days for mothers.
But it’s nice to know there’s someone always ready to embrace me.
It’s a well-known fact that we have a tendency to over-correct.
I just wonder how many of us recognize when we are doing it.
I did when it came time to create the annual “Gift of Time” envelopes for my girls.
A few years ago, in an effort to guarantee one-on-one time with mom or dad, I gifted each girl a stack of 12 envelopes- one for each month. Inside, a card with an activity they could choose to do with just mom or dad- no sisters.
We were drowning with the responsibility of caring for our health-challenged youngest, not to mention juggling four young kids. The Gift of Time ensured we got that one-on-one time with each daughter.
But, year-after-year, it turned into expectation.
When they opened the envelope and it was a trip to the library or a bike ride, instead of the bowling alley or putt-putt, they were crestfallen.
I realized I was creating presumptuous monsters, instead of appreciated moments.
So, I’ve paused. Reevaluating.
Sure, I want that precious time but at what cost?
I spent my adulthood wishing I’d had a closer relationship with my mother, when I was a child.
But what if my children rely too much on their parents to feel satiated?
Is it possible that I’m setting them up for failure? A childhood so idyllic, it’s difficult to replicate? Is that a crime?
I’ve parented long enough to become comfortable in the gray- the not knowing the next step.
New Leaf Parenting 