A moment on motherhood
“Grace is the forever giving and living hand of God reaching out and saying ‘let’s do this together’; and His grace is infectious and explosive and leaks out of us and makes us like Him.”
We don’t think we’re superwoman but we often think we have to be. We’re striving for postpartum perfection when we merely need to be present. Holding and feeding and repeating over and over again.
My son Micah was three weeks old when excruciating pains in my body left me doubled over in agony; just as I was beginning to recover and my womb had reduced back to that pear-like shape that the Miriam Stoppard books so beautifully describe. The bleeding and the after pain and the walking like John Wayne had diminished and then I got ill. It was a summer’s day; the warm sun was glistening and comforting and my home-birthed boy who needed nothing more than a cloth nappy and a sleeveless white vest showing off his kissable arms. I traipsed my three children to numbing doctor’s appointments, chemist and blood test clinics yet no one seemed to know what was going on.
I finally called in the cavalry. My mother-in-law held down the fort downstairs whilst I slept, held my stomach and cried between those still moments when she would bring Micah upstairs so I could breastfeed him. What would be my final traipse up to my doctor's surgery with my brood resulted in two doctors trying to convince this super-woman-being-so-stubborn mother to GO TO HOSPITAL. My infection levels were really high; my doctor commented on my obvious high pain threshold and said I shouldn’t have even been walking. I called Dave at work and all fell into place; like it should when we let go. I was admitted to a private room with a transparent cot by my side so Micah could stay with me; the interns and student doctors and consultants busily researched the appropriate antibiotics for a breastfeeding mother who refused to ‘pump and dump’ and with a final diagnosis of a major kidney infection (made worse by the fact they discovered one of my kidneys has been non-functioning since birth) I was cared for, medicated, hydrated and after two nights sent on my way to heal but mostly to realise that it’s okay to not be okay.
Authentic, wholehearted parenting means being exactly that - authentically you. Each woman must and will walk her own journey of motherhood treading carefully in faith and fragility. It’s that perfect balance of believing in ourselves and our ability to raise our children but being free to sing of our imperfections and ask for help when we need it.
You may not have a mother rushing to collect your washing, a neighbour eagerly ready with a casserole and home baked ciabatta. You may not have sisters to help scrub and clean your home or de-ice your car windscreen but you do have a voice. Let vulnerability reveal her freeing ways and watch; maybe a community of not-got-it-all-together mothers will gather around you.
It really is okay to not have it all together, to not get it right first (or second) time, to be in a mess or not quite know what your next move is. Grace is the forever giving and living hand of God reaching out and saying ‘let’s do this together’; and His grace is infectious and explosive and leaks out of us and makes us like Him. So let’s reach out to each other in heart and words and deeds and let’s ‘do this together’.
So when you see me on another mammoth mothering learning curve and maybe we’re sat in the same classroom, don't try and pass me that ‘forbidden’ motherhood manual as I’ll be busy taking a bag of laundry round to my mother’s house.
