Enduring (Well) Motherhood

A photo I took of topped tulips. Sometimes I feel like that.

I have been frustrated lately. You know those times when you get in a funk? Yeah, that's been me the last couple weeks. I realized that part of my frustration has been feeling a bit unfunfilled in "just" being a mom. In fact, I wrote a whole draft blog post about the conflicting feelings I have being and LDS mom (loving my kids, knowing it's the most important job in the world, etc) BUT...needing something else, too. This caused me to feel guilty! How could I want something else other than to do the most important job in the world? To be there every moment for the children God has entrusted to me? We prayed about me staying home (something I never really wanted) and both felt strongly that it was what the Lord wanted. So how I could I NOT want it?

I have...not easy children. I love them dearly. But they are both strong-willed, high-energy, one is really high strung, etc. We've been sick, we've had a couple disappointments, dad has been gone a lot, etc.

It was kind of a negative blog. Cathartic, but a downer.

I found myself pondering my rantings and I didn't like it. I thought, "Man, if I want something "more" why don't I just invest that time and energy into being a "more," better mom, homemaker, educator of my kids?" So last week I tried more. Just a little bit. I made a schedule of each day (one of my biggest struggles because each day is very different...yet very the same), planned ideas of things to do in case of "dull" moments so the whole day wouldn't be filled with tv (major source of guilt), etc and we had a more fulfilling week.

As I pondered this and other things, my mind turned to the idea of persistence. I turned to my scriptures but the word "persistence" does not really exist in them (that I could find).

However the word "endure" does. And that made me think of a talk by one of our LDS apostles all about "Enduring it Well". I was just enduring motherhood for the most part recently (sleepless nights, sick kids, misbehavior, etc). I can honestly say, I was not enduring it well. My whole focus for the last couple weeks about feeling unfulfilled was a testament of that. In fact, during a heated discussion, my husband pointed out "if something is a priority, you just make it happen" (what he was talking about wasn't kid-related). I got all riled up and told him, "Do you want to know what my priority is? Survival. I am in survival mode. Pretty much all the time. My priority is keeping our kids alive, fed, safe, whatever. THAT'S my priority. Survival." I was merely surviving as a mom...but yet I wanted something else. No wonder I was feeling so conflicted.

I was enduring. But, obviously, based on that conversation with my husband I was not enduring well. (We rolled over and went to sleep after that. After 10 years of marriage that is a tip I will give newlyweds every time: sometimes it's ok to go to sleep angry. Odds are you're both tired and cranky and won't remember what you're angry about in the morning.)

As I read my scriptures searching for more about "enduring well," I found this: "And it shall come to pass, that whoso...endureth to the end, behold, him will I hold guiltless before my Father at that day when I shall stand to judge the world." (3 Nephi 27:16)

GUILTLESS. That word jumped out to me. I had felt guilty about the things I wasn't doing as a mom that I felt I should. I felt guilty that I felt all I could do was survive as a mom. I felt guilty that I felt I wanted something in addition to "just" being a mom. And here it was in scripture saying that if I endured (and I'll add "endure well"), I would be held guiltless. I didn't need to be perfect. I didn't need to feel like motherhood was all I ever wanted.

In a way, I felt like my the Lord was validating my feelings while also saying, "Stay the course. I know how you feel."

I felt like He was saying, "I know what I've asked of you is hard. In fact, that's why I asked you to stay home. It's where you will learn the most. It's where your family needs you. I know it's not what you want necessarily. I know you want to do other things. I am not upset with you because you have those feelings. I know it's hard. I don't expect perfection, so do the best you can. Finish what we started, truly try your best, and everything will be just fine."

If the Lord will hold me guiltless, why shouldn't I hold me guiltless? I must try better at this...and if you're a mother like me, you must be, too.

And this one: "And blessed are they who shall seek to bring forth my Zion at that day, for they shall have the gift and the power of the Holy Ghost; and if they endure unto the end they shall be lifted up..." (2 Nephi 13: 37)

Lifted up. That's what I need. I needed to be lifted.  And in order to do that, I need to endure and endure it well. I need to not just survive this time (endure), but change my attitude and put more into it. Even if it's just scheduling our days better. Even if it's just being prepared with go-to indoor activities. Even if it's letting my desire to redo my bathroom go for a little while so I can sit and read to my son. I know these seems trivial, but for me as someone who can't sit still, who always feels like I need to be doing something productive (ie with visible/tangible results), it's a challenge.

In raising my children in the gospel, am I not seeking to bring forth Zion? Of course. And as I continue to do that, this scripture told me I am entitled to the gift and power of the Holy Ghost. So as much as I feel like I'm alone doing this (I am during the day...and evening...and sometimes night) while my husband is at work, etc. I have been reassured that I am raising up Zion and, so, am not alone.

I will endure this season in my life, but also try to endure it well. I know that every day doesn't have to be perfect (my kids are watching tv as I write this), but as long as I TRY, I will have the Holy Ghost with me, will be lifted up, and will be held guiltless.

So can you.

Whether you are of my faith or not, I hope you feel the truth in this. Get rid of the guilt (the Lord has) and find just one way to not just endure, but endure better. Not perfectly, not even successfully, but try.

When I Have Nothing Left to Give...

We have had a rough few days.

Last week Vivi got sick. Nothing major. Low-grade fever, just feeling icky. But at night time she would wake up inconsolable. First it was because she wasn't feeling well, then it was because of bad dreams. She was waking up crying 5-6 times per night. That lasted 3-4 nights.

And then, as sickness do, it jumped to Malcom. He woke up a couple times feeling like he needed to vomit, but couldn't. Then his ear hurt. Then he wanted water. All kinds of tears. During the day, he just felt kind of icky with a low grade fever, etc.

But at night time. Ohhhhh, nighttime. He was waking up screaming and crying. Snakes were biting his eyes. Something was tearing him to pieces. Nightmares everywhere. Sometimes he woke up not feeling well, but it mostly seemed to be night terrors. Waking up multiple times a night just crying inconsolably for a while.

We have done this for 4 nights now with Malcom after not quite recovering with Vivi. Gradually it has gotten a little better, but it's slowly killing me. Seriously. They have never been good sleepers, so I'm used to getting woken up a couple times a night, but this is a whole new level.

Last night I gave both kids Benadryl before bed (don't judge me). An hour later Vivi got up and was crying. Internally, I was screaming "What the heck?! You aren't even sick! You're supposed to be the ok one!" But I let her crawl and snuggle on my lap while I read my book. She whimpered, twitched, and cried out a couple times. After about ten minutes of this, Malcom started crying in his bed.

"Oh dear God," I thought. "Please no. I can't do this anymore. And it's only 8pm."

Did I mention my husband was out of town? And when he is in town I rarely see him anyway? Moving on...

I carried Vivi to her bed and then sat down next Malcom crying (still kinda sleeping) in his bed. I tried to wake him up so he knew he was safe and that mommy was right there (he kept saying "I want Mommy!" with his eyes closed). He quieted down an I just sat on the edge of his bed, crying. Not daring to move in case he were to wake up.

I sat there and cried and thought, "I have nothing left to give these kids. I am empty."

And it was true. I had no compassion. No tenderness. Nothing left to give these kids except "Shhhh. You're fine," and my pleas to stay in bed and stay sleeping.

I had nothing left to give.

As I thought about this, I didn't feel upset at myself. I couldn't. I was empty. I couldn't even feel like I was a terrible mom. At that point, I was just a shell.

I had nothing left to give.

And then the thought occurred to me, "Lord, I have nothing left to give these kids. So I'm giving them to you. They will not feel love and tenderness from me right now when they call out, so I'm going to hand that over to you right now. I need you to fill them with your love because, right now, I've got nothing."

Then I got up and walked out of their room and stuffed my face with some amazing homemade hot chocolate that a friend dropped off for me because she knew I was having a tough few days.

I'd like to say they both stayed in their beds and slept through the night, but they didn't. Malcom woke up a couple hours later crying inconsolably for a few minutes while I held him and kept watching my shows. Eventually he snapped out of it and I let him watch my shows with me, eat a couple of my Starburst jelly beans, and then crawl into bed with me.

As Malcom lay in my bed, though, he also let me hold his hand. In that moment, I felt the love return. I felt a little bit of patience return.

So here's the point of all this: Moms, if you feel like you have nothing left to give, you're not alone. You're not a bad mom. You don't not love your children (how's that for a loaded double negative). As moms, our job description is to pour into everyone else. And sometimes when we don't get a chance to be poured into because of lack of sleep, lack of time, lack of a spouse/partner around, etc. we hit empty. It happens.

I am blessed with friends who have been very honest with me about the good and bad times of parenting. I appreciate it when other moms say "This sucks. Imma 'bout to lose my ish." Because it makes me feel like I'm not so weird. Like I'm not some horrible mom and everyone else is just better at dealing with the hard times.

And so I share this: sometimes I have nothing left to give. I literally don't even want to be around my kids.

And that's ok. Because, in sum, they know I love them. They know I'm here for them.

But sometimes mommy just needs to eat chocolate and watch her shows alone.

A Mother and Daughter Made of Fire

"Stand by her when the people she loves begin to pull away: she is too intense for them, too sentient. Fire is contagious, catching, and nobody wants to go down burning."

I had a powerful experience with my daughter that I wanted to share in hopes that it would empower another mother to see within herself her divinity when she feels it the least. As an active LDS, I mean that differently than others may interpret: our divine DNA. The access to divine power we hold. Our divine potential.

I have a five year old daughter, Vivienne. Vivi, for short. She...she is a force to be reckoned with. Very early we recognized in her that she cannot be convinced to do anything she doesn't want to. It is a blessing that will serve her (and us) well in the future, but it sure makes her hard to parent. She is incredibly smart (dare I say gifted?); she is perceptive and asks deep questions. 

"What is our Heavenly Mother's name?" she asked one day. I don't think they talk about Heavenly Mother in her Sunbeam class at church...

She is stubborn, yet sensitive. She is fierce, but defensive. She is empathetic, but can intentionally do harm. She is prone to angry outbursts, rarely is she demure. She is the sun and rarely moon. She is fire and rarely water. More on this later.

She is exhausting.

Vivi's daily emotional roller coaster is a lot for this mama to handle. Especially because I am her mother. As in: the qualities, behaviors, and attitudes that make her most difficult to parent she clearly gets from me. I see myself in her giant blue eyes. She can be manipulative (as any five year old can), so it is often hard to discern when to be patient and when to be...not. This is where our story begins.

Vivi had not been feeling well the past several days. Nothing major but a low-grade fever and very weird/scary nightmares that woke her up feeling ill. Several times a night she would get up whimpering (which annoys the crap out of me) and finally get into bed with me where she (we) would have a very restless sleep.

Last night, it started as it had the previous couple nights: whimpering of not feeling well and saying she'd had really scary dreams. But instead of getting frustrated (at this point I'm not sure if there's something really wrong or if she's trying to get attention), I took her hand and tucked her in her bed. I asked if we should say prayer and she said she wanted me to say it.

Suddenly, I felt the spirit strongly that she needed a blessing, but not from her father in the other room. She needed her mother to advocate for her, to invoke a blessing on her. I inwardly wondered if I should place my hands on her head, but that felt weird to think about, so I simply held her hand and touch my forehead to hers and began to utter my prayer.

It began as many prayers often do, but I felt compelled to continue on as she groaned in discomfort or fear of bad dreams. I prayed for the Spirit to be with her, to calm her mind. For angels to watch over, guard, and protect her. As I continued I felt...power. I wasn't just requesting hopefully...I felt it had power. I had power. It would be done.

As I prayed for the Savior to lay His hands upon my daughter that her body and mind may be calmed and healed (for all that the Savior lays his hands upon can be), she stopped groaning. She stopped whimpering. She lay perfectly still.

When I opened my eyes after "Amen," she was sound asleep. Her fingers still firmly gripping mine had to be gently pried away and yet she still slept. Her face was pretty and peaceful. The dark circles that had been under her eyes the last couple days seemed to disappear.

I dropped to my knees in the middle of my children's bedroom and thanked my God for that ability to communicate with Him, for what the ability to call upon His power to calm and heal my daughter enough to sleep, for the power of being a woman and mother who has been given the opportunity to find this divinity within and share it with her daughter, for a Savior who actively loves each of us every day. 

I have said my fair share of prayers as a mother (of two VERY bad sleepers who are also very strong willed and high energy), but this wasn't a prayer of desperation...it felt like a powerful request of one having authority to ask for such a blessing as a mother charged with taking care of His children can and should have. 

I shared this experience with my husband when I returned to our bedroom and then did what everyone else does in bed: flipped open Facebook on my smart phone. Just then my sister sent me this article: On Loving a Daughter Made of Fire. More than any parenting article, this described my Vivi. It described me. It described us. And the best way to be the mother of a "daughter made of fire."

"Introduce her to the women who braved the fire to build you: your grandmother lives in your tender hands, your mother in the grace of your smile, your sister in the gentle curve of your frame. We are all, in some small way, immortal. As she becomes you, she too will inherit parts of them. Show her they are watching over her when she sees herself for the first time in the mirror of your armour and realizes she was born a warrior baby.

"Remind her that anger is natural. When she comes to you, convulsing inside with the volcano she cannot contain, sift through the ashes with her to reveal generations of forgotten women who have never known escape. Let her see that the fire will not — no, cannot — scorch her. She was born of it, after all."

I have reflected recently on my grandmother and mother and the kind of women they are. I have reflected on the kind of woman I am. Yes, we are made of fire. It makes sense that my Vivi is also made of fire. Recalling my experience I'd felt just a few minutes before I read the article, I believe it is that fire that I felt within me and all around me as I held my daughter's hand and invoked the blessings of heaven to be upon her.

“We are not mere human beings,” tell her, “we are stars the sky tried to swallow whole; the stars whose shrieks of fury pierced the darkness like bullets: to this day, the sky bleeds light through phantom wounds like you and I.”

As an LDS, there could be many layers to this statement but at surface value, she truly is a "star whose shrieks of fury pierced the darkness..." This will describe her her whole life as it does me.
Her fire, her divine nature, her divine potential. My fire, my divine nature, my divine potential. 

We are one.

We are powerful.

We are fire.

We will fight, we will burn. We will "help people with [our] flames," not destroy. Is that not the mission we have been given. Will not the earth be consumed in fire? Perhaps this is one kind of flame that will light up the earth.

Isaiah 64:2: "As when the melting fire burneth, the fire causeth the waters to boil, to make thy name known to thine adversaries, that the nations may tremble at thy presence!"

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• This was the first time I FELT that I do not need someone to grant me priesthood power; I have power within me. The power and fire of divine womanhood, eternal motherhood. A divine right by nature of who my Father is and the covenants I have made with Him. 

"She is part of an integral legacy, guided by those who once walked the very same path she treads. Remind her that a day will come where she will light the way for another on this journey..."

WE are daughters made of fire.

Every woman, whether she is LDS Christian, or not, has that fire. That power. That divinity. Perhaps in the women/girls in my family that "volcanic" fire is more evident, but the fire of the divine, the flame to light the way, the power to call upon the unseen is within us all.