Tag Archive for: motherhood

What Motherhood Replaced.

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I told myself I’d never be that mom. I’ve watched women I love and respect leave themselves behind as they navigate motherhood. Dreams get forgotten, passions get forgotten, showers get forgotten. Emotions get pushed to the side in an effort to meet the needs of these little people you love so intensely.

I told myself I wouldn’t do it. I’d continue to pursue my dreams, my passions, shower regularly, keep up with the latest trends. I’d model for my baby girl a mama who considers herself a priority in the healthiest way.

I do believe it. That I’m a priority. Im still trendy (when I leave my house), I’m still chasing after my dreams and passions (then again I only have one kid). But it’s much harder than I expected.

Last night I cried to Eric about the person I used to be. “I’ve been trying to hang onto her, but she’s slipping away”. What I didn’t take into account when I had big plans not to “lose myself” to motherhood, is that there would be no way for me to ever be the same again. Everything has changed. I am a mom. A little person relies on me for everything. My life can’t look like it used to, no matter how much I am honoring myself and my dreams and passions.

I think the sooner I accept that and move into this new version of me, the better. Mourn what used to be, accept that at times I will miss it, and step into this new opportunity to be all that I have been created to be while also being a mom.

Being a mom has engaged a whole new part of my heart and soul that I would never have been able to access otherwise. And when I look at it as an entrance into a new realm of learning and knowing myself, it becomes this opportunity to become something more than I was before.

So maybe motherhood replaced some things. Priorities shifted and life has changed in a way I didn’t expect, in a way you didn’t expect. Maybe you’re in a phase where you are mourning who you used to be, wondering who you are now. You’re still her, just a little bit different. It’s okay to let her go a bit and step into what is to come. Motherhood doesn’t put an end to you, it just shifts it a little bit. You got this mama!

Is it enough to be her mom?

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After an exhausting weekend with a sick baby, I am hunkered down at a local coffee shop before church. Much needed alone time. I have felt my energy depleting these last few weeks as Eric works massive overtime. Most days we make sure to get out of the house once or twice, and being the introvert that I am, the rest of the day is spent resting from those outings. It’s not a bad life to be honest. But most days look very much the same.

Today I journaled ” it doesn’t feel enough that I am raising lilah. Is that enough? Shouldn’t I be doing more?”

I spend a few moments pondering where this pressure is coming from. This pressure to constantly do more than I am, live up to expectations I will never reach. I look around me and it’s EVERYWHERE. People hustling constantly. Stay at home moms with 2 or 3 side gigs, marketing themselves with increased intensity. More power to them, but what does that have anything to do with me? Must I do more just because someone else is? Who is telling me that the little steps I make in the wood floors of our little house every day aren’t just as impactful as the steps of anyone else?

I do.

I let that sink in a minute.

I hold myself to these impossible standards. This unattainable perfection. I want to be good at everything, approach life with constant ease. Maybe that’s you too. Maybe deep down you are holding yourself hostage with expectations like I am.

I want the freedom of days that flow in and out without my fists clenching each moment in control. I want days that feel purposeful and days that don’t, trusting that God will use every little bit for good.

I am reminded of my favorite Bible character, which is saying something as the Bible and I have been in some tension recently. But love David’s story. Specifically the many years he spent as a lowly shepherd, in which God was refining his character to use him later on. Not perfecting, because as we known David did some really crappy things later on, but refining him to have the heart needed to do Gods will.

So here I am. In my shepherd moments. Herding little helpless hands and feed through daily activities. Wondering what it will amount to. Begging to be used in big ways right now, but being asked again and again to just do this. To love inside my own home. To work through my past traumas, to help those close to me do the same.

Is it enough to do what we are asked to do right now? Even if it feels like very little, not enough, monotonous, uninspiring.

Yes. It is enough. We are enough. Big things, small things, those are all just things on the movie reel that is our life. It all leads to something, even if to our eyes it may look like not much.

When you’re a mom with anxiety.

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I have always been a little scared of being a mom, and at times very terrified. Anyone who has ever had a panic attack can identify with the need to have an escape at all times. What would happen if I had three kids in a shopping cart in a store and had to get out of there ASAP? I’d be stuck. What about when my kids get older and start to realize that mommy is afraid of certain things, breathes really fast in certain places? What about the days when my OCD has such a hold on me that I can’t get myself to stop organizing for even a second, plowing through my kids imaginative play in order to create my own illusion for control? And then the biggest fear, the one I don’t dare share; what if life becomes too much one day and I leave my babies behind?

I come about it honestly. My whole family struggles with anxiety. Having been a child of two parents who struggle with deep fears, I know first hand how it can affect our teeny people. No judgement-my parents did the very best they could and we all turned out pretty good, but I felt their anxiety and it greatly affected me. Knowing this, I am so very sensitive to what my anxiety could do to my baby girl. I wonder if she notices, even now, the differences in my days. But even if she can’t sense my deep feelings now, I know that someday soon she will. How do you show those hard parts of yourself to your innocent babies? How to you lay your cards all out on the table, lead by example in navigating hardships, all while not burdening them with your baggage?

How am I ever going to do this?

Before I had Lilah, my life was self centered. It had to be, it was how I survived. Every move was planned perfectly to avoid as much fear and uncomfortability as possible. I had it down to a science. I had a dozen excuses in my back pocket, knew my escapes to avoid certain situations. But I can’t quite do that anymore.

There’s more going on here now. I have to learn to do it a little bit differently now then before. If I want my babies to experience life to the fullest then I’m going to have to do some of those hard things. If I want to avoid losing my shit at home with a baby all winter then I’m going to have to go to those play dates, run those errands-stretch myself to reach those places.

But guys it’s really hard. It’s hard to recharge enough to get myself to the places I need to be and to do the things I need to do for my baby. It takes a lot of intentional time to myself, a lot of understanding exactly what I need in order to be at my best. And still some days, most days, lulu doesn’t get my best. She just gets what I’ve got to give in the moment, even if it’s teary snuggles in front of the TV.

I’m learning to have grace for myself when I don’t feel like I’m being the parent I should be. When I’m scared that I’m hurting my child by being a mess. When I’m afraid I won’t be able to handle raising her and any other babies we might parent. One step at a time right? Deep breaths, baby’s steps. That’s often all I have to give. Can I trust that is enough? Can I trust that my love for her is making the difference? I have to. Because my battle with anxiety is lifelong and it is difficult. The last thing I need is the pressure to leave that part of me out of my parenting game.

You can do this mamas. You can. We can. We will!

Even if.

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I’ve always known I had a choice. I can live in constant fear of the worst happening, or surrender to the fact that I have no control.

This is the lesson that I have been learning my whole life in various ways, but parenthood has really slapped the icing on the cake. Because now there’s this teeny tiny person who relies on me for everything and yet I ultimately have very little control over her life. Yes I make choices that affect her on the day to day, but in the grand scheme of things, her life is out of my hands.

It happened on day one. I had already been wrestling with how my relationship with God might navigate parenthood. Pregnancy had brought with it more anxieties then I had expected. But when Lilah was born she was taken to the NICU. This was it, the moment of deciding what kind of parent I was going to be. Eric and just looked at each other and I said, “I guess this is parenting. We don’t have control of this.” And we didn’t. She only spent five hours in the NICU and ended up being okay, but at the time, we had no idea what was happening. I wasn’t happy about it, but I knew that if I was going to survive the rest of my life without fully breaking down mentally, then I was going to have to learn to take things as they come.

That’s always been quite hard for me. I come from a long line of senseless worriers and so I come about it honestly, and have lived most of my life walking in the ever pacing footsteps of my anxious relatives. But I’ve always wanted it to be different. Deep down I know that the only way to live a life free of deep worry is to open my hands and say “God, even if, you are with me”. Ugh but that is hard. Because how can God really be with us if the worst is happening all around us. If God is good, and just, and loving, then why is there so much pain and suffering? Well I don’t claim to be the theologian in the family but I can tell you that on my best days I believe God is all those things despite the horrors that may unfold around us. I believe that there is more to the story than we will understand. I believe that God mourns with us. But on my darker days, I can’t imagine how any of that make sense. And that’s okay too. Wrestling with these things is crucial, I believe.

But this is what I know without a shadow of a doubt. That even if, for reasons we may never understand, God does not heal your loved one, or prevent that hurricane, or stop that shooting, he is there in it all. When we hear stories of joy and goodness coming out of pain, that is Jesus. That friend who lost a loved one, but feels a strange sense of peace, that is Jesus. It may not always make sense, but we see it, right? We can feel it.

While the questions still remain, I can offer this: Even if, God sees you and is holding you and loves. If you don’t believe it that’s okay, I don’t always believe it either. But I do cling to it, because I’ve experienced it and seen it and choose to believe that it is true.

Motherhood Mentality.

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It’s always been easy for me to share about my anxieties, my OCD tendencies, the negative thoughts that plague me on the hard days. But it’s oh so hard to admit that those things are a struggle for me as a mom.

I don’t want it to be true. I want the two to be separate somehow; the messy human version of me, and then the angelic supermom version of me. As much as I cognitively know the importance of my child watching me navigate my own emotions and humanity, I still so badly want to be the perfect mom for her. But on top of everything else, guilt over mental battles I cannot control, isn’t helping.

If Lilah is anything like her mama she will feel things deeply, observe closely, and internalize everything around her. Those things are amazing gifts but also very hard things to navigate in oneself. I want her to watch her mama do it with humility and honesty. And even if she’s nothing like me and calm and steady like her daddy, I want her to be able to empathize with the people in her life who are different from her.

So if I know the importance of living vulnerably for my child, then why is it so hard to let go of this “need to be supermom” mentality? The truth is it is all around us and while many of us are exhausted by the concept, just as many of us don’t even realize we’re striving.

It all comes down to this theme I’ve been wrestling with my whole life: resting in who we are and where we are. Accepting that we are not supermoms, superdads, superhumans, and instead embrace exactly who we are-even the knitty gritty stuff that sucks to know about.

The little things are important.

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Many of my conversations with others share this common theme; this need for purpose, excitement, newness. The hum drum tasks of life just don’t quite cut it and we are constantly searching for more.

When I break it down it’s all quite confusing. I’ve heard my whole life how Jesus is rest for the weary, and there have been times in my life where I have felt that so strongly. But hand in hand I have also gotten the message that I must do and achieve and work hard for his kingdom. In the Christian culture, aren’t missionaries idolized? We don’t look at stay at home moms or businessmen and say “wow. Look what they are doing for the kingdom of God”.

What a mistake we are making. To promote this culture where doing more equates to serving Jesus more. I just don’t buy it.

And so I’ve been on this mission in my own life to really sink my teeth into the sweetness of every single moment. To treat the little tasks in my life as if they were a great adventure with so much purpose and meaning. Because even though it may not always look like it, everything we do has promise.

Of course serve. I’m not saying that we shouldn’t do things for others or get out of our comfort zone, but what I am saying is that the little things are important. Grand gestures and big ideas aren’t always the best ones.

I guess the key is, are we listening to Gods voice? Are we so in tune with that greater plan that we can feel content in every moment because we know what we are doing has a purpose beyond what we can imagine? It’s so hard to live in that peace. But that’s what I want for my life. Not the certainty that I’m doing everything right, or that Im impressing anyone, but the acceptance that everything I do has a purpose and it’s never not enough.

Why Me

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Today as I was nursing Lilah before her nap, I felt an overwhelming sense of thankfulness at the little person wrapping her little arm around my waist. But that feeling of thankfulness was followed by another familiar question: why me?

I’ve wondered this at so many times throughout my life, both the good and the bad. But now as a mother I wonder: Why have I been given a child when others struggle to have one? Why am I able to nurse my little girl in peace while other babies are ripped from their mothers arms at the border? Why do I sit here a beautiful beach house while others sit amidst the dirt and grime of poverty, begging for food to feed their babies.

Why me?

I’ve been asking questions as early as I can remember. I’ve always been obsessed with fairness, justice. I don’t understand why some of us suffer more than others. Why some of us claw our way through life while others float by.

So many times I just stand there, look up, and ask “what the hell are you doing?”

Sometimes It’s in the midst of my own suffering; the deepness of my own thoughts has caused me much pain. But the older I’ve become, the more I’ve come to recognize my own privilege. The more my heart breaks for those who were given something different, a life I could never even imagine.

And while I believe that there is purpose in it all, that all things work together for good (Romans 8:28), I am still saddened, outraged, shocked over the things I see going on all around me. More often than not I cannot grasp that any of it is good.

I find myself praying that I will see things clearly. That my heart would break for those things in this world that really matter. That God would lead me into dark places without fear, that he would use my privilege to love others. If not that, what have I been given all of this for?

I wrestle with wanting to stay in my bubble. Wanting to avoid fear and pain, failure. But that bubble is also a prison that will rob me of true life.

Why me? I have no clue. But I will not waste it.

This New Person

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About 8 months ago I met two new people. One teeny tiny one that relies on me for everything. And one slightly bigger person who I’ve spent my whole entire life trying to figure out.

Me.

It’s interesting how you spend all this time preparing your heart and your home for this little person, and yet you can’t quite prepare yourself for the other person you will meet at the exact same time: yourself as a parent, and for me, a mom.

It’s not a negative, the exact opposite in fact. I thoroughly enjoy getting to know myself better. The ebbs and flows of life and constant transitions, though difficult, are also exciting. When I look back over my life, I see a series of new people sewn in with the old person I was, and what a beautiful tapestry it makes.

Now enough with the poetic writer stuff. My apologies. I expect you want the vulnerable, knitty gritty out of me right? Okay, I’ll do my best.

Trying to find your new sense of self while also taking care for a teeny person 24/7…not easy. Where I used to have a variety of ways to escape or care for myself emotionally, I now am only left with a few, and usually I am too tired to really pursue those.

Self love has taken on a little bit of a different feel these days. A warm cup of coffee in the afternoon, a nap while she naps, a quick workout before she needs to be fed again. Everything feels a little bit rushed, with a baby waiting at the end of every activity. I must try so very hard to rest.

Well crap. Because resting has never been my strong suit. I’ve never been a good napper, mediator, lie around all day-er. Productive is the only thing that feels right to me. Hilariously, now I am a mom, so productive goes right out the window. A day where laundry gets done but the rest of the house is a wreck is a win. A shower every three days is a win. A blog post written on a weekday is a win. A few moments journaling about my hopes and dreams-MAJOR WIN.

When I take a step back, I am the same me I have always been, with just a few little changes. And I have to work hard to remember that when it feels as though my life is nothing like it was, that I am a totally different person, I am just me, with a baby. And maybe the seasons of my life look a little different, and I have to spend my “free time” more wisely than I once did. But maybe it’s a gift to be forced into intentionality. To be given a reason to fight against day to day melancholy as I play blocks on the floor for yet another hour.

I’m still in there. There’s just a teeny person clinging to my hip. And I would take one toothy grin over a weekend on stage, or a 5 mile run, or a full night of sleep. Those things will come again, but for now, this is my beautiful, messy, exhausting life. And I am the same Lizz living in it.

Photography by Lexi Fazzolari. Cover photo by Ashley Sider

Getting Over Myself

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It sounds harsh, but it’s really not. It’s actually the most self loving thing I do for myself. It’s what I do when all other options have been exhausted, and all that’s left is me and a pile of things I am wallowing in.

Mind you, I’ve been in therapy for almost my entire life. I know all the coping skills and therapeutic jargon. I spent two months in a therapeutic wilderness camp and 16 months at a therapeutic boarding school. So you might say I’ve made a lifetime of working through my issues. That being said, I haven’t been able to rid myself of my humanness, and so, many of my issues still remain. I’ve learned over the years that there are times when I need to really nurture the sensitive parts of myself and times when I just have to get over it.

And the best thing is all I have to do is snap my fingers and voila! I’m over it!

KIDDING.

It’s a state of mind and active work.The thing I’ve been struggling with the most recently is my brand new post baby body. It is not easy to watch your body change throughout pregnancy, and even less easy to watch it stay the same after. For some, the baby weight comes off steadily. For others, like myself, healthy eating and balanced exercise does nothing. And guys, it’s been really hard. To not fit into my favorite outfits, a meltdown leading up to any event that I can’t wear Erics t-shirts to. My perfectionist little self doesn’t know what to do with this body that I can’t control. Everyone can see I’m not “perfect”-que panic attack. This struggle is the perfect “get over it struggle” and here is why:

  1. I am not currently struggling with an eating disorder
  2. I am doing everything I can (in a healthy way) to keep my body nourished and strong.
  3. I had a baby 8 months ago
  4. Hormones are still wacky

The above reasons show that I am in an overall healthy emotional state, doing my best to change my situation, which includes factors outside of my control. That last one is a huge one. Baby weight is out of my control. Totally. I’m doing my best and it’s still here. So basically I have two options.

  1. Spend the summer miserable and hiding in Erics old lacrosse pinnies.
  2. Recognize it’s not ideal, give myself grace, buy a few new outfits that work with my current self.

Spoiler alert: Ive chosen number 2. But it’s not over yet. Daily I must remind myself that it’s not the end of the world. I’m okay. It’s summer and I don’t have to wear pants if I don’t want to-YASSSS! My journal is filled with reminders. The mornings are filled with music that uplifts me and points me to Jesus. My thoughts repeat over and over “this body gave me Lilah. I honor this body for its strength”.

If I am not intentional, then choosing to get over it is pointless. You must get over it every single day, hour, second. Bettering ourselves is HARD work. That’s why sometimes we choose to just be crappy people or wallow in crappy situations. But wallowing steals joy and purpose. And I want both of those things in my life. What about you? What do you need to get over?

Love to you on your journey. It’s all so worth it.

The Days Are Long

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Veteran mamas always tell me, “the days are long, but the years are short”. I hate that they are right.

Here I am, with 7 months of motherhood behind me already. My little girl has a tooth. How did we go from tiny little peanut on an ultrasound screen to this? It’s surreal. And yet it’s reality. Time just keeps on ticking.

But the days are long. The early mornings, the singing my thoughts all day to keep her entertained, the random errands to keep us busy (that may or may not end in me crying because-social anxiety). Those make up some long days.

The binge watching Netflix days (you know the ones). Where you have a little one or two playing at your feet, with My 600lb Life playing in the background all morning because you can’t quite keep your sanity.

But more often than not, in this new season of motherhood, the lengthy days have very little to do with her and much more to do with me. The thoughts that plague my brain over and over. “Am I doing any of this right?”, “am I a lazy housewife?”, “am I engaging her enough? Kissing her and squeezing her enough?”. The googling what’s normal, what stage she’s in, etc.

Ok maybe, some of you are just feeling like this day got a lot longer just reading the thoughts of this type A, anxiety prone mama, but my bet is you’ve been there too. Because there’s no manual. It’s all new. I am learning who she is and what she needs every day. But I am also learning who I am now, what I need, how to do both. Doing both, that’s what makes the days long. Her little smile and giggle, and teeny tiny hands grabbing my feet, that’s just a puddle of joy amidst my own intense thoughts.

Maybe a few years from now I’ll check back in with a toddler and a baby and tell you to forget everything I said before, that the kids make the days long-the tantrums, and throwing food, the balancing both, and keeping everyone alive. But for now, It’s just me and her. And I’m doing my very best to learn how to let go, but also hang on.

The most beautiful, frightening, journey I’ve ever been on. Blindly walking in who knows what direction, holding this teeny tiny person as close as I possibly can, and hoping for the best.

Thank you to my support system. You people are angels. Love you.