I have an unspoken rule when it comes to answering queries about being a parent. I decided a long time ago that I was going to be honest... gut wrenching, dead honest. I felt like in my childless days most people I talked to about having kids really romanticized the idea. They talked about how awesome it was to see this little person walking around with his eyes and her nose. About how much they loved being a mom or a dad, about how your life wasn't complete until you had a kid (whether you knew it was incomplete before or not varied). Then they'd usually throw out one small caveat, "You'll be tired but..." or "It's hard but...", just this one little hardship in parenting couched in otherwise awesome, amazing experiences.
Then I had a kid. And I distinctly remember thinking, "What is wrong with me that I am not awed, amazed or inspired by this experience thus far?". I don't begrudge those who would romanticize the whole having a baby/toddler experience. I get it...if you told the truth people might never have kids! Technically the future of the human race depends on these rose-colored glasses. But while I understood the necessity of these white lies I decided that perpetuating these fables wasn't for me.
So, I started being honest. I blogged my honest feelings and thoughts and struggles too. I had conversations with people that didn't hide the hardship that accompanies being a parent. I didn't just say I was tired...I said I was exhausted and ready to curl up into the fetal position and cry. I gave voice to my frustrations with routines and losing all freedom and individuality to a six pound, twenty pound and now 25 pound tyrant. I shared about how getting a shower every other day was a huge accomplishment, how all my shirts are stretched out from little fingers pulling and tugging, how I haven't peed in privacy in who knows how long...the list could go on and on!
What I discovered was that by being authentic about my mommy identity crisis I actually encouraged other new moms. We all thought we were broken for struggling and turns out...we all struggle. I love that. I love that we can encourage each other and cry with each other and hug each other. While initially insecurity surfaced from being a new mom I quickly found solidarity with other moms who were experiencing the exact same thing. And that gave me confidence, it absolutely helped me be a better mom.
The struggle lie with the people who might look at that honest and view it as complaining. Finding a balance was hard and I really wanted to get it right and articulate it well. That's when it hit me. Analogy time: Let's say that you were once 450 lbs. and you worked your tail off to lose 300 lbs. CONGRATULATIONS! Talk about a huge deal! Would you walk around telling people, "It was so easy!"? Of course not. Because 1. it wasn't easy, you had to work your booty off and 2. because that would devalue your accomplishment.
Draw the parallel with me people. Having kids is not easy. It's hard, hard, HARD work. And I'm 100% okay letting you know how difficult it is because my kids are worth it. They are worth every sleepless night. Every snotty nose wiped on my shirt, in my hair, on my face. They are worth every poopy diaper, every extra expense that ruins the budget. They are worth every ruined piece of clothing, every please-let-me-curl-up-into-the-fetal-position-and-cry moment. Every shower-less day. Every I-can't-remember-the-last-time-I-ate-a-full-meal second. Every if-I-don't-get-to-have-an-adult-conversation-for-two-seconds-I-will-scream. Every struggle. Every battle. Every worry, every anxiety. WORTH IT.
So, no. I'm not going to downplay how hard being a mommy is. I value my kids too much to do that. I love them too much to pretend like it's easy or that I always have it under control or that I know what to do every second of every day. It's not and I don't. And they are worth every second.
Now, I could end here. Good pep-talk Jen! But I'm not finished. As I was thinking about how high the price is to be a parent and about how that demonstrates the value of my children to me I started thinking about God. Have you ever found yourself downplaying the sacrifice that God made for us in sending His son (His one and only) to die for us? I have. Or maybe you just downplay how desperately we needed His sacrifice. I've done that too.
I mean, I'm not that big of a sinner. Sure, I struggle with pride and jealousy and anger and lying and a slew of other heart issues but I'm not a murderer or anything. I could be a lot worse. Jesus really came to die for those super bad people. Know what? If you really want to know how deeply God loves you, understand the magnitude, the impact, of your sins. Jesus' death on the cross was exceptionally painful. His separation from God so that we could connect with God was almost unbearable. But He did it. For you. Because, to God, you are worth it. Worth every drop of blood, every painful moment. Worth it. If that doesn't leave you a little awed...I don't know what will.
Now, Ellie and James aren't worth it to me because of all the stuff they do for me. As cute as they are I loved them when they couldn't do anything, literally, on their own. Their actions don't cause me to love them more...or less. That's because my love isn't based on their behavior. Similarly, God doesn't love us because of what we can do for Him. Nothing you do can ever make Him love you more. Thankfully, it works the opposite way too! God's love doesn't change or disappear because of the mistakes we've made either. We are valuable to God because God chose us to love. And His sacrifice illustrates perfectly how "worth it" you are to Him.
These faces...
WORTH.
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IT.
God thinks you are too.
