Oct
02
2012There’s this season in motherhood that is the hardest. Not because of a particular stage that the children are going through. No, because of a stage that the mother is going through. It’s that first year of a child’s life. Or even more narrowly: the first 4 to 6 months.
The child is so needy. So all consuming. So tiring. So new.
That newness shifts everything in a new mother (especially the first time around).
Prior to that infant leaving the perfect cradle within you, your life has rhythm. A rhythm you chose. A checklist for you to accomplish. A regularity. A purpose. You have control.
But from that first contraction rocking the life within, a new mom is swallowed by the chaotic reality that our control was just an illusion.
A newborn breaks open all sense of self-efficiency.
A newborn brings low what once was haughty.
All the “I will never do that when I have kids,” is challenged as a new person enters.
I’ve often said that I am perhaps the only newborn photographer who hates the newborn stage and this is why: the newborn stage is the most vulnerable for the mother.
New mother, your role has just shifted from something that you could measure the accomplishment for by the end of the day. To a qualitative role where nothing is ever measured and everything you have done all day is un-done by the end of the day.
The child you have longed for is changing everything about your life that you have loved. Sleep. Quiet evenings with your husband. The clean house. The warm meal served on time. Basically the ability to do anything you want right when you want or need is stolen from you.
New mom, you are out of control. You are out of the illusion that you ever have any control.
And that is a crazy-vulnerable place to be.
So much advice out there floats to you. You read it in books. You read when your child should nap. When you should nap. That you should or shoudn’t rock. Your friends ask if the baby is sleeping yet. Your husband wonders aloud if the fussy baby isn’t still hungry 10 minutes after you feed them. You wonder about your milk being enough. You wonder if formula would make them sleep.
You taste the curse. The curse that child bearing will bring pain. Oh, you’re beyond shocked to find that the worst pain of all is not labor (no, that is just the beginning), but the worst pain is mother-guilt.
New Mom, it doesn’t have to be this way. The mother-guilt can be surrendered.
There will never be a checklist for motherhood. There will never be a regularity. You are working with a person, and just when you think you figure that person out something will change. They will drop a nap. Or they will outgrow the fussy stage. Or they will start waking from tooth pain.
You can’t measure your worth as a mother by a checklist of what your children can and cannot do. Or on how the schedule of the day progresses. Or on the number of crossed out items on your to-do list at the end of the day. Those things will only increase that mother-guilt.
No, new mom, there is only one way to conquer that mother-guilt.
You have to own that mother-guilt, pick it up with open hands, and offer it up to the Lord Jesus Christ. In that awe-ful moment, you’re going to be surprised as the mother-guilt that has defined you peals out of your hands and floats away. It was never your definition.
New mom, you are not defined by what you don’t do for or with your child (or your husband, or your home), nor are you defined by what you do accomplish. Underneath all those labels you’ve given yourself is your true name:
Beloved.
That is who you are, new mom. The precious most beloved daughter of Christ.
Love Him because He has loved and named you in His death and resurrection. Listen to what He is calling you to do. Do the next thing. Let go of all the failures. Give Him the glory for all your feeble successes. Treat the non-essential areas of parenting (nap times and lengths, pacifiers, baby wearing) as scientific process: keep trying things until you know what works for you and your baby.
Admit you are not in control (you never have been) and rejoice in that as you feel all your mistakes piling up in front of your little one. God can use even your mistakes to weave a beautiful thing for your child.
No matter what else you hear, hear this: You are the Beloved.
Own your true name and lay aside the guilt. Jesus died because he loved you so that you could live in freedom from condemnation. Live free, Beloved.
Jul
20
2012
Bronwyn and I sit together in a puddle of her pee. I’m rocking her back and forth whispering “I love you, Bronwyn. I discipline to help you grow. I’m after your heart. I’m not hurting you. I love you, sweet girl.” I’d been waiting for her to calm down for 15 minutes now. We’d been sitting in pee for 2 of those minutes.
The pee is drying sticky on my legs and my beautiful strong-willed Bronwyn is flailing while yelling “MAMA! Hurt me! No douch me. No snuggle me! MAMA! Hurt me!”
I want to stand up and hose my sticky nasty legs off.
About this time I begin to weep silently while whispering truth in her ear. We’re so alike, her and I, fighting so hard for what we want even if it’s not the best thing for us.
In 30 minutes, it’s over. I hose off my legs and she asks to sit in my lap while she eats lunch. The relationship is restored. As both of our rinsed legs and tear streaked faces dry, I know that this was a good discipline and correction session. My heart carried the right attitude.
I think one of the dangers of having a Strong Willed Child (SWC) is that we’re so busy dealing with their behavior (and hopefully their little hearts) that we forget about our behavior (and our hearts) in a battle for behavioral control.
We didn’t choose to be parents of a SWC. We were just blessed to be the one chasing the SWC across the parking lot because they wouldn’t hold our hands and bolted. I’m actually kind of disappointed that birthing a SWC doesn’t automatically come with a free invisibility poncho for public use…
In all seriousness, let me say that I walk this road with you. I’ve left storytime with those awful judgemental/piteous gazes from the other mothers while I wear a 3 month old, heft my strong-willed flailing child on my hip, and try to herd her twin in the same direction I’m going. I’d be lying if I didn’t say that some days I just want a vacation or to trade children with other moms. I’ve learned some hard truths about myself while parenting my SWC; hard truths about my tendency to anger, avoidance, scapegoat-ism, and selfishness.
But the biggest truth I’ve learned is that the strength of our relationship and my attitude have the greatest influence on Bronwyn’s level of defiance.
Bronwyn can tell just by the glint in my eyes if I’m angry, or disappointed, or frustrated. She can tell if I’m tired or grumpy or hungry. She can holler “No cry, Mama!” before I even shed a tear. She knows the prime opportunity to pounce on my weakness. She studies me.
I bet your SWC studies you, too. Part of that studying is defiance based, but I’m beginning to feel that the other part is relational based. Our SWC want to know us. They want to know what makes us angry. What causes us to snuggle them. They want to know what we enjoy. They thrive on our laughter when they’re clowning around. And the best way for you to make use of that constant studying is to study them too!
Build a relationship with your SWC and it’s like reading a textbook on what makes them tick. Cherish their little nuances; write them down in a gratitude journal. Build tall towers and observe whether they knock them over with glee or are disappointed when they place the block that causes it to tumble. Play ponies or dolls or cars or cops/robbers. Spend 30 minutes a day cuddling and reading books in your bed. Take the time to teach them new things like climbing trees or buttoning their pants. You’ll discover all kinds of crazy things about your child that you never noticed before.
 |
| This is Bronwyn’s Scrunchy Nose Face: It’s my favorite! |
Studying your SWC has three benefits. First, you as a parent are less likely to resent or be angered by a person you’ve spend so much time getting to know. Second, you can start to spot the situations that will cause your child’s strong will to rear it’s ugly head before or as they’re unfolding. Finally, because you have a solid and obviously valued relationship, your SWC will be less likely to test your boundaries just because they want your attention.
But the relationship itself isn’t going to change your child’s tendency to push boundaries. They’re born with that bent. And like we talked about last time, that strong will is a gift that could change the world.
Next time I can escape to write another post (when my SWC isn’t busy jumping down the ladder to the pool after I said no and before I got her life vest back on, her twin isn’t chasing around frogs/lizards/snakes, and the baby isn’t eating entire leaves off the unvacuumed floor), we’ll talk about how our attitudes in the midst of a behavioral battle effect can influence the SWC’s level of defiance. In the meantime, a few of questions to help us dive into this topic:
1. How do you intentionally build a relationship with your Strong Willed Child?
2. Have you discovered some interesting trigger situations while studying your child? (for instance, Bronwyn looses her mind if I take something from her hand! If I ask her to give me the object, she usually obeys immediately.)
3. What are some things you do in the midst of defiance that you think might have a huge effect on their level of defiance, both for good and bad?
Apr
17
2012Last night I shared a sweet conversation with a dear friend. A friend afraid to fail like I am. We walked through our failures. We shared our leanings. We cried (or came close to it). We came away refreshed.
This morning I stumbled on the Mother Letters. A collection of letters written from one mother to another to encourage and uplift. And I thought about that conversation and what I would say to my hippo-sized pregnant with twins self.
This is for you, Mothers.
__________________________________________________________________
Dear Mother,
It’s okay if you fail.
You’re going to become lazy in discipline. You’re going to crush little hearts. You’re going to want a vacation. You’re going to wish you’d remained barren.
It’s okay.
You don’t have to be perfect.
The gospel is big enough for you.
Grace is big enough for you.
Christ died so you could fail without condemnation. And that grace leads us to repentance. To restoration of relationship. To knowing that He is enough. That He will change hearts (yours and theirs) through you and in spite of you.
Mother, mothering isn’t about you. Or your kids.
It’s about the Jesus Christ, and His Message: the GOSPEL.
Let me be honest with you:
I am prone to fits of rage when my toddler hides her shoes right after I asked her to put them on so we can leave.
I get bitter and resentful when my 5 month old son wakes multiple times and screams while all my friend’s babies sleep 12 hours before 2 months old.
I crush little spirits with thoughtless words.
My home is often as disorderly and chaotic as a drunken bachelor’s pad.
All of this is me– left to myself.
But this is where the gospel reaches down and plucks me from the patterns of my sinfulness. This is the point where God adopted me. Where He made me His daughter.
I was a mess when God called me as His own.
I am still a hot mess.
He knew that.
Reomans 5:8 says that “while we were still sinners Christ died for us.” Jesus knew I would flounder and flail and rage over little bodies. He knew that and He still chose me. He still died for me. He still died for you, mother.
The gospel changes everything.
Motherhood isn’t about doing everything right. God knew we would fail.
He knew my clean laundry would grow into mountains taller than my toddlers. He knew that when my daughter laid on my face with an elbow in my eye socket that I would bite her to break free. He knew that I would yell at my son at 3 in the morning demanding that he would sleep. Jesus knew that and He still loved me enough to die for me. He loves you the same.
And more than that: when God looks at us he doesn’t see our sin. No, God sees Jesus’s perfect-ness. His righteousness.
Mother, this is what should empower us to love and serve our children even though we know we’re going to fail:
The Gospel!
My children disobey and I’m called to love them at their darkest. Bronwyn jumps out of her toddler bed 40 times in one naptime. Each time she is patiently disciplined and repeats the gospel after me: “Dear Jesus, please help me to obey because you died for my sin.” 2 days later she finally manages to stay in her bed. The gospel empowers me to consistently discipline without anger. After all, isn’t God patient with my sin?
I blow it and yell at my girls over those dumb hidden shoes. I stuff her feet in a too small pair and hustle them out the door. I know I belw it. I don’t beat myself up because it’s not about my perfection: it’s about the gospel. I stop, I hold little faces in my palms, I tell them I was wrong to yell- that Jesus died for my sin too.
My toddler throw an ear splitting tantrum at library story time because the can’t touch the book the librarians are reading. All the other mothers look at me with mixtures of pity and judgement. I feel scorned and like I’m a terrible mom. I leave nearly in tears. On the ride home, the gospel plays perfectly-timed on the radio. And I realize how much they’ve grown; a week ago they might have ripped the book pages and bit the librarian. What grace that this time it was just a tantrum. And, besides, their behavior doesn’t reflect on who I am as a mother or a person- I am God’s beloved daughter. No tantrum (mine or theirs) can change that!
Because Jesus preferred em enough to die for me, I start letting the girls pick out their clothes. Even though I think I might die of embarrassment as Aerie picks out red heart ‘jammie pants and a polka dotted hot pink monkey shirt. She almost glows that day when church nursery workers call her a cutie. What joy I would have missed had I forced her to wear what made me look and feel good!
I’m not trivializing motherhood.
It is hard.
We wonder if anything we do matters.
We try to quantify our success by a clean house at the end of the day. Or how well behaved our kids are on an outing. Or how many people tell us we look great 2 months after pregnancy when we’ve stuffed ourselves into pre-pregnancy jeans and covered dark sleepless eyes with heaps of concealer. But in secret we wonder whether our kids will sit in a psychiatrist chair and tell of how we let them run around panty-less in the yard because it was the only way they’d poop in the potty. And, oh yeah, that little potty was right in the middle of the yard where all the neighbors could see. Oh, wait, maybe I’m the only one who worries about that last one.
But motherhood is kingdom work. And building any kingdom, especially God’s kingdom, is work wrought with suffering, challenges, and growing pains.
Our job isn’t to be perfect: Jesus already did perfect for us.
Our job is to humbly admit who we really are, fail and repent, and quit hiding behind masks of perfectionism. To live life free and with no condemnation. To live life empowered knowing that while we were sinners God chose to die in our place.
Our job is to live the gospel in front of our children and the whole world.
I’m here to walk with you, Mother, if you’d just have the courage to ask me to be real. Or maybe I should have the courage to call you next time I fail.
I love you, Mother.
Keep doing what He’s called you to do.
Melissa
Mar
08
2012
My first born daughter Aeralind was the one who caused the delivery. She kicked out her bag of waters the very day the doctor told me not to go to the hospital again unless my water broke. All Aeralind needed was someone to tell her what to do and she happily obliged. She didn’t make a peep upon her entry into this world and and was happy just to be adored for doing her own independent thing. Aeralind is a people-pleaser to the core.
One minute later the doctors hauled my sweet Bronwyn out from underneath my ribs. She was howling mad at leaving that warm spot and, I promise, had she been able she would have either clung to my ribs or climbed right back in. Bronwyn instinctively knew one thing: there were very few things you could make her do and, unfortunately for her, birth was one of those things. Bronwyn is the quintessential strong-willed child.
Defining the Strong-Willed Child
How do you know if your child is strong-willed?
To be frank, if you’re asking that question the odds are that your child is not a strong-willed kid. But for those of us going through the 2s and 3s where there’s a natural boundary testing, I suppose it could be confusing so I’ll give you a definition.
A strong-willed child is one who will fight to do or get what she wants: not matter what. He is the child that would say (if he has the speech ability), “Oh, really? Make me.” after each simple request. She is the child who laughs when you say “That’s impossible!” And promptly proves you wrong.
There’s a great little quiz that you can take from Cynthia Tobias book You Can’t Make Me (But I Can Be Persuaded): Strategies for Bringing Out the Best in Your Strong-Willed Child
on her website. Scroll about halfway down and rate yourself and then your children.
I’m a strong-willed person: scoring an 8 on that little quiz. Bronwyn is hands down a 12. Let me give you a few examples.
At 7 months, Bronwyn informed Aeralind (who is a sneaky instigator despite her people-pleasing ways) that if she really wanted a toy she had better be willing to fight for it.
While 8 month Aeralind was busy eating puffs the normal way, Bronwyn pioneered her own methods since her fine motor skills weren’t where they should be and dared anyone to say anything about her puff accessories.
Before Bronwyn could walk at 12 months, she started spending 30 minutes every single timewe went outside trying to climb UP her slide. She finally mastered it at 18 months. She never once gave up.
My husband and I say that Aeralind kicked Bronwyn out of her egg so that Aeralind would have a test dummy. Bronwyn fears nothing. Here are a few examples.
 |
| Climbing over the makeshift gate |
 |
| Giant Slide at Monkey Joes |
 |
| She walked first 🙂 |
 |
| Yep… she’s the one already in with soot all over her 🙂 |
 |
| Bronwyn’s Idea of a Perfect Activity |
 |
| She thought up this use of the slide |
 |
| She’s not even 2 and a quarter here… |
 |
| That’s a Hissing Cockroach. Bronwyn touches him. Aeralind cowers. |
At 20 months after 2 weeks of RSV with many nights spent in our bed cuddling so we all could get a little rest, sweet Bronwyn decided she didn’t have to sleep in her own bed. She wailed and whined for up to 5 hours each night demanding that she be snuggled in our bed for 3 solid weeks before we figured out how to correctly discipline her.
 |
| The face of a grumpy sleep vetoing child |
At 2 and a quarter, the week long toddler bed battle began. You can read a little bit about that epic hour and twenty minute training session here.
At almost 2.5 strong-will Bronwyn woke up after a nap and demanded “big gull panties” and potty trained herself.
So maybe a strong-will isn’t completely a bad thing.
Maybe those of us parenting a strong-willed child simply need to recognize that a strong-will is a gift we need to harness for the child’s good.
We just need the patience and persistence to pursue the best ways to discipline, guide, and love our strong-willed children. And maybe the community to say “I know you’re doing the best you can. Keep at it!” while our strong-willed kiddos flail in a tantrum on the floor of our local store.
I truly believe strong-willed Bronwyn will change the world and I bet your strong-willed child will join her.
Melissa is a strong-willed person raising almost 2.5 year old twins Aeralind and Bronwyn and baby brother Sedryn to the best of her ability. She blogs about the glorious God-filled moments and the moments that bring her to her knees over at Bumblebee Grace. She rarely has it all together, but she knows the One who does.
