One Statement that Shouldn't be Said to a Grieving Mother

This is not an easy thing to write about, but I feel it needs to be done, despite my discomfort.  I hope that this can be seen as a polite, yet vitally necessary, public service announcement.  I’d like to tell you the one thing that you shouldn’t ever say to a parent who has lost a child, through either miscarriage, stillbirth, or failed adoption.

Now, I know that seeing a person grieving, whatever the cause, is hard.  You want to be of some comfort.  So I understand the good intentions that are there, I really do.  I also understand that, often, there aren’t concrete actions we can do for a person in such circumstances, so all that is left to us are words.  We want these words to be comforting, healing and encouraging.  That said, there is one phrase that is none of those things.  I have heard it myself a time or two.  It is the phrase “you didn’t know the child well or very long” and variations on such wording.

I know that being hurtful is not your impulse and when so many say this phrase, there is no malice intended.  However, that doesn’t detract from the negative emotions this statement, and the sentiment behind it, bring.  I feel I can best explain why this is the case from my own life.

You see, last year, our family thought we were going to adopt twin girls.  We were sent videos and pictures of them.  We were committed to them.  We loved them.  They were already our daughters and the sisters of our two children.  It didn’t matter that we had never seen them in person.  It didn’t matter that we had never held them before.  It didn’t matter that we had only known of their existence for a few months.  They were our girls.

So when we were told, abruptly and unexpectedly, that the government in their country had decided another family was better suited and that furthermore, we could not appeal this decision, we were devastated.  Our children had been taken from us and there was absolutely nothing we could do about it!  When someone says, in effect, the sadness can’t really be that bad because you didn’t really know them or you didn’t physically hold them, etc., it frankly hurts and feels rather demeaning.  I essentially now am put in a position where I have to justify my grief to you.  It doesn’t matter how long or short our time was with them or by what methods we interacted or how much or little we knew about them.  None of those factors influenced our love for them or how much we grieved, and honestly are still grieving, for them.

Let’s put this in a different perspective for a moment here.  You wouldn’t say such a statement to a parent who, let’s say, tragically lost their two-year-old to cancer.  You wouldn’t, not even for a second, think that just because the child was only two, instead of 12, therefore, they shouldn’t be that sad.  You wouldn’t let the length of time they had known and loved their child be a factor in assessing their grief, so why does this happen in the above mentioned situations?

As true as this is for myself, as an adoptive mother, I feel it is compounded many times over for those who have lost a child to miscarriage or stillbirth.  I beg you, do not express such words around them, no matter how kindly you mean them.  For these women, there is no possible way they could have known their child more!  They carried them; their bodies nurtured and sustained that child!  They literally felt that child growing inside them!  There is no connection that is as personal and nothing more painful and poignant when it is severed!  If you are reading this and you have experienced this loss, please don’t let anyone minimize or trivialize your grief!

The loss of a child, no matter how it happens, is probably one of the most horrible events we can endure.  Let’s be mindful of the impact of our words.  Let’s be there for each other and help each other grieve fully and well.

If You Never Feel Like Your Life is Together

My kids and I were riding in my friend’s car.  The two of us were chatting when my 5-year-old daughter, from the backseat, casually asked my friend “are you a grown up?”  My friend, who is about 15 years younger than I, paused for a moment and then said thoughtfully, “yes, but most days I don’t feel like I have things together.”  I chuckled and agreed with her; then my daughter piped up again from the backseat and in a confident tone said, “I’m together.”

When it happened, this cute exchange just made me smile, and I quickly moved on with my busy life.  However, as I took more time to consider, this short and simple conversation caused me to think about that little word which seems to relentlessly pursue us as moms: “together.”  We need to have our stuff together.  We need to be together as a wife, mom, employee and as a person in general.  We usually don’t feel together at all.  When we don’t feel together, we get frustrated with ourselves and this frustration often spills over and impacts the ones we care the most about.  How is it we can let one little word overtake us and cause us to chase such a vague concept?  What on earth does it mean to be “together” anyway?

It sure seems to me that when we use that word, we are basically trying to achieve some elusive, unattainable idea of perfection.  When we talk about feeling (or on most days, not feeling) together, what we really mean is that we’re supposed to do everything well, from every aspect of life, all the time.  We are supposed to have all the laundry done on schedule, cook all the healthy, but also good tasting, meals, keep the house clean, spend lots of quality uninterrupted time with our kids, while also being a wonderful wife and thorough and hardworking employee, as the case may be.  I don’t know about you, but I’m exhausted just writing that, much less trying to accomplish such a list!

I think it’s time to drastically modify our definition of having things together.  Why are we driving ourselves crazy trying to be something that isn’t even possible?  For my part, I’m working on seeing “together” as something much simpler.  My kids were fed, bathed and dressed today.  We had some time to play and, at other points during the day, I did some (but not all) of the housework while they played without me.  We are a homeschooling family, so I focused on the essentials of their schooling for the day.  The basic necessities were done, although perhaps not in the most orderly and smooth fashion.  There are still things that need to be finished, and that’s okay!  Let’s start being realistic with ourselves and each other; life is already hard enough without us putting such burdens on our own shoulders.

Let’s be okay with doing the best we can and stop trying to attain perfection.  Our kids need to see us slow down and not be so consumed with being everything to everyone, all the time.  We need to show them that, yes, we should work hard but also to have realistic expectations of ourselves and others.  We need to learn how to be all right with delayed projects, untidy rooms at times and days when the kids eat boxed macaroni, nuggets and fries.  None of these things mean that we have failed as an adult; they’re just an example of real life.  We’re not meant to be the perfect wife, mother, and employee all the time.  No human being can be perfect at even one of those things.  It is freeing to realize this simple, yet profound, truth.  Yes, absolutely work hard for your family but don’t despair when you don’t get it all right all the time, or even some of the time.  I personally don’t want to be a grandmother who still feels like she’s “not together.”  My daughter, only being 5 and not understanding the nuanced meaning that we have added to that word, viewed being together in a more straightforward, literal way.  It meant, to her, nothing more complicated than just being with family or friends, with no extra pressure.  We have made such a simple word needlessly complicated.  I think we would all do well to take her simple, more easygoing approach to that word and to life in general.  It would probably do us all some good.

A Lesson About Motherhood From Bike Riding

It is so strange sometimes how a simple, everyday family activity will cause me to think about deeper issues of my motherhood experience.  Today, the kids spent a couple hours riding their bikes around the parking lot.  In case anyone is concerned, my husband Luke, who is sighted, directed them and watched out for vehicles.  As I watched them work on their speed and balance, I began to think and as I find I so often do, I am now turning those thoughts into writing.  I hope they may be of some value to you.

I felt a bit of sadness in that I can't be the one to really, safely and effectively, oversee their bike riding attempts.  Vision is a very essential ability to possess in this endeavor, as there is a constant concern about cars or running into poles or parked vehicles.  I wondered if they were missing out because they can only ride their bikes when Luke is able to do this.  It felt unfair to them.
I then began to think about the summer, when our apartment complex pool opens up.  I realized that, as they are both still learning how to swim, I just don't feel safe taking both out to the pool by myself, at the same time. I am going to have to do a rotation, one day with Lexy and the other with Jon.  I felt like they would be missing out, not getting to play together in the water.  I wished I could give them that experience.  I wondered what other things they would not get to do, as fully or in the best ideal, because their mother can't see.

But then, I realized a couple things.  First, that every mother wonders this.  Every mother wonders if there is more she could or should be doing, if she should be doing everything completely different, if she is doing right by her kids, etc.  If it's not sight, then it's meals or screen time or sleep overs or... Well, you get the idea.  This train of thought isn't just only a blind mother thing.

Then, I finally started to really pay attention to what was happening after each child would finish their lap.  When Jon would come back from his, he would hang out with me, while Lexy went with Luke for her turn.  Jon would excitedly tell me what he had done on his turn, how fast he went and what silly games Luke played with him to encourage him to go even faster.  We would play a silly game we came up with, where he would drum on the handle bars and I would try to stop him by pushing his hands off.  He would laugh and ask to keep playing.
When it was Jon's turn, and Lexy was with me, she and I would talk about how excited she was to have a bike.  She would sit in my lap.  She would ring her bike bell and then tell me what "bike was saying."  She asked me if it was going to be sunny tomorrow and if we could have "swing time.", where I push her in the porch swing and we talk and/or pretend.

My lack of vision isn't stopping them and I from having fun experiences together. It may, by necessity, cause those activities to be one thing instead of another, but the experiences of mother and child are still happening.  We are still connecting and growing together.  We are still learning.  Attachment and trust are still being shaped.  This is true no matter what factor you may feel limits you as a mother.  This is such a freeing and beautiful thing to realize.  I am very glad I did and I hope you will also.

Unexpected Lessons of Motherhood

Before I actually had kids of my own, I thought of motherhood as primarily a teaching role.  This seems laughable now, as I have very quickly become aware of how many different and unrelated tasks I have to keep up with every day.  I suppose this fixation on teaching came from all I remembered my mother doing to prepare me for life and how she tried to make any mundane experience a teaching moment.  I intellectually knew that motherhood involved so much more than the teaching component, but for some reason, this was where my focus rested.  Before I actually became a mother, I was often worried about how I would go about teaching my kids.  There were so many facets of living, how could I accurately and diligently cover them all, without making life utterly boring for my poor children?  I’d spend time thinking about what life lessons were essential.  I was concerned, not sure if I was really cut out to navigate them through the craziness and complexity of life.  I found myself worrying about everything from teaching them how to handle unkindness from others, money management, generosity, cleanliness, and everything in between.  Needless to say, all that planning and pondering accomplished little.  When we first brought our daughter home three years ago, it didn’t take me long to realize that, while I did have a responsibility to teach her about the world and how it all works, she (and her brother, who soon followed, would be teaching me just as much.  These are lessons I am still in the process of learning each day.

I am slowly learning that time together is more important than tasks.  I quickly found as a mother that, if I’m not careful, I can spend all my time doing things for my kids instead of simply doing things with them.  It is so easy to become focused on the tangible tasks, like making sure their clothes are always clean, making sure they have good food to eat and making sure that their rooms are kept tidy.  While these things are important, I can’t let them keep me from just playing with my kids, even if it is in their messy rooms.  They value time with me, and I need to honor that.  They would rather play "Connect 4" or tag then have dinner be punctually on the table by 6 P.M every night.  When I do slow down (regrettably less than I wish), it’s amazing what ends up happening.  The tasks still get done, just a bit later than normal, and they and I thoroughly enjoy our time together!  Overall, that day is less stressful, and the kids are even somewhat better behaved.

I am learning that I need others.  I was born blind, and as I went through middle/high school and college, I found myself feeling that I had to do it all.  I had to prove that blind people were just as capable as anyone else in literally everything.  I felt that, if I didn’t do this, I was giving all blind people everywhere a negative reputation.  Needless to say, this attitude was exhausting and untenable long term.  Parenting has quickly removed any last remnants of that way of thinking from me.  We all need each other.  We need each other’s wisdom, strength, encouragement, accountability and kindness.  I can learn just as much from another sighted parent or one who is blind like I am.  Parenting shouldn’t be a solo effort. All that will do is exhaust us, and our kids will feel our exhaustion and think that they don’t need others either.

I am learning, and this is the hardest for me because it hits my pride, that I am not the person I thought I was.  If you had asked me before kids came along, I would have said I figured myself to be a fairly low-key person.  I didn’t get easily upset, wasn’t petty, was fairly patient and I wouldn’t have really described myself as selfish.  Well, the constant needs of my children and the physical and emotional demands of being a mother have shattered all my delusions of grandeur in regards to my wonderful personality.  I quickly discovered, to my shame, that I am the opposite of who I thought I was.  However, I have found that God, through my children, is turning even this into a beautiful new opportunity and yes, another teaching moment.

I am learning about forgiveness.  My kids are so quick to forgive and continue on as if nothing happened.  They are so quick to look past my short temper and frustrated, hurried answers, as I struggle to fold laundry and make dinner.  This constantly reminds me that there is another chance and that God is using my kids to grow and drastically change my character.  It is a beautiful and frightening thing, but I am so glad I am experiencing it.  So now, while I strive to raise my kids the best I can, I am grateful for all they are teaching me, even if at times I am an unwilling student.

What I Want My Daughter to Know About Being a Stay-at-home-mom

Dear daughter,

As you grow older, you’re going to hear a lot about what you should and shouldn’t do as a woman.  You’ll hear it from your friends, on the TV, radio and you’ll read numerous opinions all over social media (or whatever you’re using by then).  You’ll probably hear a lot of things said about being a mother, particularly a mother who stays at home with her kids.  As the one who freely made that choice, I’d like to share with you my honest thoughts on that life, and I hope they can be a help for you as you grow older.

Being a stay at home mom is not easy but, no matter what you may hear, neither is any type of work.  Every job has difficulties and frustrations. No matter what work you choose, there will be days when you just don’t want to do it.  Being a stay at home mom can be lonely sometimes, but everyone has seasons of loneliness; that is just part of being human.  Being a stay at home mom has its share of exhaustion and feelings of being overwhelmed, but these are periods of life that everyone must face.  Being a stay at home mom is quite repetitive at times, but every type of work has its repetition.  Repetition is a part of life, no matter what wishful thinking you may hear to the contrary.  In fact, repetition is built into the very world we live in; the sun rises and sets the same every day, the moon pulls on the tides the same way and the cells of our bodies grow and divide in the same manner every time.

As you grow up, you may hear that staying home with your kids is not good enough.  You may hear that you should be doing more with your life.  You may hear that, by “just staying home with your kids,” you are not doing anything to advance the cause for women.  You may hear that by choosing to stay home, you aren’t contributing to the family. You may hear that by staying home and raising your children, you are advancing and defending the patriarchy.  You may even hear that stay-at-home moms aren’t busy and are just lazy.  Please, my daughter, allow me to offer a different view for your consideration.

You see, in every type of work, there are many different roles.  Not every person does the exact same thing, but these differing roles complement each other.  Each role may have its own set of unique tasks, but each is vital to the other’s success.  The delivery driver for a restaurant does not keep the establishment running solely through his role as the one who brings in the needed supplies.  Are he and his role important?  Absolutely, but without a chef, servers, and dishwashers, just to name a few, there would be no restaurant needing his delivery services.  Do police officers and firefighters perform the same work? No, but I’d hate to live in a world without both of them present.

Your dad works hard for our family, and he earns the money, which provides us with a home, food, and clothes, among other things.  But, my dear daughter, who do you think is the one that manages all those resources?  In our family, who is the cook, housekeeper, laundress, bookkeeper, secretary, and (as I chose to homeschool) educator?  This is my special and, I believe, God-given role and I can’t imagine a more dignified, worthy and weighty cause than to be the one responsible for managing all the resources of our household.  By choosing to stay home, I have chosen the empowering role of being the one who holds our house together, by combining many different types of work.  If I had chosen to do any one of these same jobs outside our home, that sadly would be seen by some as being more honorable or worthy than doing all these jobs for my own family.  Both a provider of resources and a manager of those resources are needed for our household to not only function, but thrive.

I am thankful that I have the opportunity to know that you, your brother and dad are fed well, have clean clothes and live in a clean (most of the time) home because I am the one taking on those responsibilities.  I have been blessed with the chance to teach you and your brother about the amazing world that was made for us.  And let me tell you, there are days when it is quite empowering to think through the variety of unrelated tasks that I have managed to accomplish in one day.  There is nothing subservient or weak about such a feat.

Now, I know that you may not choose this course.  I also know that not every woman is able to make or wants to make this choice.  But I want you to know that it is a dignified, honorable, and strong choice!  Does it require sacrifice?  Most certainly! But anything worthwhile and lasting in life will require sacrifice.  Sacrifice, in and of itself, is not a bad thing.  You and the rest of our family are worth sacrificing for.  And through those sacrifices, I have discovered strength I didn’t know I had.  Thank you for giving me that opportunity.