Matters in Mothering
image by Jacob Lund
I remember the sting of disappointment, sitting in the bathroom at a church function, my mother and a mentor trying to comfort me with words that fell flat. I went over and over the tryouts in my mind, “I did everything perfectly,” I thought, “one of the cheer coaches even told me I was so making the team. How did this happen? Why didn’t they pick me?” I didn’t care about the singing competition I was currently involved in, one where I would go on to do very well. I wanted to be a cheerleader and my junior high heart was broken.
A few weeks later I heard one of my friends, who had made the team, was having a party for the new squad. A way to celebrate making the team as if being on the team wasn’t good enough. I - being the junior high girl that I was - mentioned it to my friend. I got a consolation invite to the party the next day at school and decided to go. It was awkward to say the least. The banner in the kitchen with all of their names on it. “Congratulations! You’re a Cheerleader!” I don’t really remember much else about the night other than the obvious. We probably prank called some boys. But, I will never forget how I felt.
I was me and they were them.
Fast forward a decade. I was going to a baby shower for a dear friend who had moved out of state and came back to celebrate with her local friends. I was so excited to see her and share in her joy of welcoming a new baby into her family. I remember arriving and saying hello to a few of the women in the room that I knew, grabbed a drink and joined the circle of women discussing the woes of motherhood. Potty training and sleep training. Breastfeeding. Toddlers and tantrums. Birth stories. First babies and Fourths. Ironically, my entire medical career up to this point was centered around mommies and babies. They truly are my greatest joy. And yet, in that circle, I had never felt so isolated and insignificant. So alienated.
Suddenly I was back at the party in junior high. Just different decorations.
Podcasts, blogs, instagram accounts, small groups and bible studies, all dedicated entirely and exclusively to marriage and motherhood. I remember a few years ago when I started a bible study just for single, unmarried women, a space just for us. I got messages asking me why married women weren’t allowed and I was advised against narrowing my audience.
These types of scenarios have continued to happen throughout the years of me walking my life path and friends walking theirs and for the longest time the resentment burned deep, smoldering into bitterness below the surface of a painted on smile. Do they care about what is going on in my life? Will they be happy for me if I decide to travel for 3 months out of the summer instead of having a baby? Will they celebrate me going back to school to get my masters degree to become a nurse practitioner like they would if I had gotten engaged?
And in the middle of it all, despair set in and rooted out my joy and my hope. Social media became a cesspool of comparison. One evening on the phone with my mother I told her I wanted to just disappear. Because what did I have and what did I matter if I had no one in my life that counted on me? If I died, I’m sure people would come to my funeral and be sad, but would there even be an impact? Would people actually feel my absence?
“Am I really even a woman if I’m not married and a mother? Do I really matter?”
Behind every lie is a fear and behind every fear is an idol and deep down inside I was believing a deadly lie.
The lie: I am not a woman because I am not a wife or a mother.
The fear: I am unimportant.
The idol: Approval of man.
I had long held onto the idea that my life didn’t matter as much as a wife’s or a mother’s did because I didn't have someone to care for.
But all along… I did.
I care for my grandparents when I visit them on Fridays after work.
I care for the children in my job at school when they’re sick and scared.
I care for the teenage girls I lead in a small group on Wednesday nights.
I care for the young women I mentor throughout the week, grabbing lunches and coffee, taking time to listen and give them space to have a voice.
I care for my friends who are mothers when I watch their kids, take them meals and do their shopping.
I care for my niece when I sing her songs before bedtime and love her with a fierce love like I would if she were my own.
I care for my church when I tithe.
I care for my community when I volunteer.
I care for my people when I pray.
I am a mother, I’m just a mother in other ways.
Ways that matter just as much as being a biological mother, because there are people out there who need us to be the bridge. The hand that reaches out in the darkness and calls them into the light.
And suddenly a shift in perspective happens. A clear lens, over the view of my reality. I matter when I have long believed the enemy’s lies that I don’t. An attempt on my life and the path God has laid before me, to discredit me and create a chasm of resentment between myself and the other women in my life.
To separate. To isolate. To destroy.
Isn’t that how this whole thing started anyway? In the garden, the enemy attempted to discredit God and all he had built, all he had planned, all the glory and beauty all around, with one lie, to one woman and it worked. (Gen 3:1)
Eventually God’s plan prevailed, like it always does and humanity was rescued, but not without suffering and years of pain.
The desire to marry and one day hold a baby of my own, in my arms, will never wane. But this time, this precious and fleeting time, until then is still so important.
I will give my life to serve the ones God has placed in my path until the gift of marriage and motherhood changes me and the course of my life forever.
And I hope that you will see that you matter too. That you are a mother in so many ways. A care-giver, a hand to hold, a shoulder to cry on, a meal when they’re hungry, a blanket when they’re cold, an encouraging word when they’re lonely, truth when they feel afraid, a bandage when they feel broken.
There are so many people who need a mother and there is a mother inside of us all.