The Time I Swore... at myself

Right after wee Grantling was born, I was exhausted.

Being an adoptive mama is different than popping out your own "babboo". While I am sure that, physically speaking, being a bio-mom is much more exhausting, in the emotional realm, I'm not sure much compares to being a new mama by birth of paperwork.

I was told for months, upon months, upon months, not to plan, not to hope, not to dream. Because if you do, you become vulnerable, and you go through a massive grief process when the adoption falls through. I agree with this sentiment. It's very wise.

It also makes it hard when you finally get a child.

At the beginning, I felt as though I was babysitting. For a really long time. For a really needy baby.

One day, about 5 weeks into mothering, I looked down at this little baby. My hair was bedraggled, I had spit-up all over my clothes. My baby was screaming, covered in vomit and wiggling in his dirty diaper. The house was a veritable wreck, and I couldn't have found a clean onesie if my life had depended on it. Everything smelled like formula and diapers, and I don't think I had cooked for my husband in over a month.

This wasn't me.

I don't mean that in a "I lost myself" or a "I hadn't figured out my new role" kind of way. I mean that in the sense that this wasn't too much for me to handle. I wasn't struggling to get it all done. I wasn't even trying. I was making absolutely no effort. I had given up.

I had let the emotional storm and the fatigue create some sort of spiritual doldrum.

I looked down at my baby, and it hit me...

I am wimping out on motherhood.*

I was tired. Sure, but when is a mom not tired? I felt overwhelmed. Um, well, welcome to parenting. I had been thrown in the deep end without any preparation. That is called "motherhood."

I had an infant. That's parenting with training wheels. After all, he's only awake maybe 4 hours a day total. And yet, with this very easy level of parenting... I was failing. If I couldn't handle a baby, if I was barely scraping by while my tiny infant was laying in my arms, when did I plan on working at parenting? When he could sit up? When he was walking? When he was talking? When he could reason with me? When he was in junior high? When he was driving? When he finished his college degree?

Mark me down as crazy (and profane), but listen: If I wasn't applying all my energies to presenting the gospel, to growing to be like my Savior, to using every minute to be Christ to my child right now, in training wheel zone--when was I planning on starting?

Me and wee Grant... in the sleepless days.

I'm in the easy zone! I have it made! He's still just a baby (who is unconscious the vast majority of the time), but someday he won't be. I have to exercise those spiritual muscles every chance I get so that when my baby is aware of my choices, he will be in awe of who God is. I want him to grow up in the glow of joy that comes from being a follower of Christ. Because if I don't show my child Christ who will?

This is not hyperbole. Life is war. There are warriors who fight battles we cannot see. There is a legitimate fight over who your child will serve. And your baby will be bombarded, if not at age 2, then at age 12, or 18, or 20, with a culture that will tell him lies. And your baby, your child, your teen, will have a choice.

And his only argument may be, "I would really like to, but because of my mother I know _________."

You cannot win the soul of your child. But I want to stand before Christ someday knowing that I pled daily for my baby. That I modeled Christ's joy. That I shared truth. That I prayed for each step of growth.

And those things won't happen... If you're flaking-out* on motherhood.





*I definitely used stronger language with myself. However, for the sake of blogging and a broader audience, I have reduced my intense language to a more moderate "G" rating. I don't like to swear. It's just the thought that popped into my head... and it hit me like a two-by-four. I wanted to do the same with my audience, but my very wise hubby recommended restraint. :)