Currently Parker is in his room for “quiet” time talking to a bug on the floor telling the bug that it needs to go outside because this is not its house. I’ve heard many moms say they’re living for nap time, that basically nap time is their only “me time” and of course this resonates with me being a mom of young children. Hence me telling Parker to take care of the bug himself, hence Parker pleading with the bug to go outside, hence me sitting here unwilling to help. Hopefully it’s some harmless stink bug but I may never know considering this is “me time” so I’m unwilling to get off my bed and help the four year old out. In my defense, Parker is enjoying the company.
One of the reasons I’m sitting here, unwilling to get up during quiet time is because I SUFFER from plantar fasciitis (too dramatic?). I have had it for four months now, ever since Ezra turned three weeks old. Therefore during quiet time I sit on my bed with these sultry looking night socks (see pic) that are supposed to help heal my feet. Ironically, I keep acting like this upcoming summer is “MY” summer, like I’m not pregnant now so I need to take advantage of all the adrenaline junkie things I aspire to do, like backpacking, rock climbing, and not peeing every 30 minutes. Wild, right? I love having babies, I really do; so far I have had relatively smooth pregnancies, healthy labor and deliveries, and of course awarded with an an adorable baby. However, I loathe being the bench warmer. It wasn’t fun in high school and it’s not fun as an adult.
I remember my first pregnancy with Parker, everyone went tubing at my uncle’s river house and I wanted to go so badly that I decided to, but only at approximately 5 mps because I knew getting flung off a tube while pregnant wasn’t the wisest idea. I vowed that the following summer I would go tubing while I wasn’t pregnant. But we didn’t go to the river house so I didn’t go tubing. The following summer we went but GUESS WHAT? I was pregnant again. I think you can see the pattern; I have a dream that someday I will go tubing while not pregnant, I may be 60 years old when it happens but it’s going to happen.
Of course, being a bench warmer is a small price to pay; being pregnant is a huge blessing (literally and figuratively). It’s such an elating time, to have your own child growing inside of you, to go through the excruciating pain of giving birth (gives me PTSD just thinking about it), to then holding your little one in your arms. I highly recommend it.
Ever since my first pregnancy I have struggled to speak positively about the pregnancy process. Mentally, I know it’s something to be in awe of but physically, the weight gain, lack of energy, and nausea is always on the forethought of my mind. During my pregnancy with Ezra, my third child, I decided that if I had to be pregnant, which I had to since I was in my second trimester, that I was going to change my negative perspective on pregnancy itself. I thought the power of positive thinking would somehow make the physical fall in line with the mental. However, no amount of positive thinking was going to change my physical discomfort but my attitude and language towards pregnancy wasn’t helping either.
I had been feeling discontent with my husband, my children, and my own body. I was feeling like no one was good enough for me; once I spoke my complaints a loud to the Lord the blinders fell off. I had become so unhappy within my own mind because I was believing lies generated by my feelings. I made a commitment to not speak negatively about my physical appearance, to not allow my mind to dictate it’s own truth. I apologized to my husband for being so moody and things quickly got better. Sure, I didn’t physically feel better but my perception of my body being beautiful changed and my perception towards my husband changed. I had been so unhappy because all I did was focus on myself. It didn’t matter how much my husband praised me because I felt sorry for myself; sorry that I didn’t like the girl in the mirror, sorry that it felt like my life was on hold, sorry that I had to wear compression stockings in 90 degree weather. I was pushing my husband away because I couldn’t stop thinking about all the ways life wasn’t turning out the way I’d hoped; I was a victim of pregnancy. By doing this I was extremely unhappy, lonely, and discontent.
As I said earlier, I currently SUFFER from plantar fasciitis so basically my feet hurt all the time. It wasn’t until last week that I told my husband that I was going to choose joy amidst the discomfort. I am not resigning myself to having this cursed condition forever, but I am also not going to resign myself to sitting on the sidelines always wishing I was feeling better, as opposed to living life and enjoying my family. I have continued to push aside everything thinking I will participate once I feel better but eventually I realized that this time, however painful at worst and annoying at best it may be, should not be wasted. This time is a gift and I am going to choose to find joy in it. I realize that many people suffer from much worse but the message is the same. Despite bleak circumstances, live today with a joy that comes from a conviction that each day is a gift not meant to be wasted.
If the goal is happiness, you will constantly be searching for ideal conditions, but life is comprised of less than ideal conditions. You will always end up empty and more unhappy than you started unless you can find joy in the waiting, waiting to not be pregnant, waiting to be pregnant, waiting to not have plantar fasciitis; those are the moments where God can truly change us. Whether it was discomfort from pregnancy or plantar fasciitis, talking to the Lord about my struggles always revealed what was in my heart. Each time I was having a pity party and no one was invited (who would even want to come?). I encourage you to take your complaints to the Lord, let Him reveal to you what’s in your heart, and when you realize who you’ve hurt during your downward spiral, apologize to them. When we confess our sins to one another, the people we love are usually happy to forgive us and grateful for the humility it took to apologize, plus they oftentimes help pull us out of the pit we’ve dug if we’re willing to listen to them. For example, my husband has been giving me a foot massage every night. That’s sacrificial love right there.
Amateur Motherhood 