Stop Calling My Birth Easy

Stop calling my birth easy.

There. I said it. If I am being honest, which clearly I am in that kind of mood, the words "birth" and "easy" do not belong in the same sentence. "Easy" and "kids" don't belong in the same sentence either. Stop calling it easy!

But let's rewind. If all that you knew about my birth is how long my labor lasted, or that I gave birth at home, you may be hearing potato when I'm not even talking about veggies... Do you feel me? We announce these stats like they can truly give a realistic image into birth. When we share a baby's size, are we assessing how hard it may have been to birth said child? Are we wondering how healthy that child is? I must say I'm not entirely sure.

My active labor was 2hours long... I always feel inclined to add a *BUT*. "But I had prodromal labor for a month." Like, it wasn't as easy as it sounds. A mother undergoes a c section, which to some implies that she didn't get the "full birth experience" (yes I have heard someone say that.) But guess what? Many women who undergo a c section actually labor for quite a while before a surgical route is suggested. Even if they never felt a single contraction, I'm pretty sure it's no picnic to recover from abdominal surgery while caring for you family. In contrast, I cannot imagine what it's like to be in active labor for days, but I DO know that growing and delivering little humans is exhausting!

Why is there so much judging? You'd think there is a birth olympics medal ceremony somewhere: "Sorry, you were docked points for a short labor, but it looks like you made up for it by giving birth at home... That's pretty brave, so I'm gonna give you an 8 out of 10 overall." What is this!? We are systematically undercutting the bravery and vulnerability that EVERY BIRTHING MOTHER endures when they bring a helpless child into this world.

While we're at it, let's go a step further... Say you AREN'T the woman who birthed your children. Oh, well... We don't even have a yard stick to tell how much of a badass you are, how will you ever have a leg to stand on as a mother. (sarcasm of course.) If we stand around lording over new moms, "Wait until you've gone weeks without sleep- wait until terrible twos- wait until you have MULTIPLE kids..." We will only perpetuate the Parenthood Hunger Games. Does it sounid crazy yet? Do I sound crazy yet?

The measure of a woman, the measure of a mother... It's not calculable based on a few stats. My birth was beautiful, and it took me months to prepare for it. Literally months of doing squats and stretches and meditations, because that's how I chose to treat my body. Choosing to breastfeed was incredibly hard, not a moment has been easy. But you know what? Mixing formula for a little one isn't without its challenges, I've done it as a foster momma. Baby wearing vs strollers, vaccinations vs non-vaccination, medicated vs natural, cry it out vs attachment parenting... The motherhood Olympic events go on and on. Many seem to be under the impression that these are opposing teams, not choices. Unfortunately, the peanut gallery isn't present in your home to help support these various events, they just sit back and inform you how to parent.



We each start off clueless. There comes a day when you are handed a helpless human being and in that moment you get to assume responsibility. How you got there might look worlds different from how I got there... And where you go from there might look worlds different than where I am going. You wanna know why? Because our helpless new babies don't know there is a core belief system and lifestyle waiting for them. My girls didn't know they were being born into a Christian, attachment parenting, hippy house... My oldest didn't know she was born with an epidural in a hospital. They don't know we had kids right away instead of waiting a few years. They don't know we are a "one car family," or that not all daddies have motorcycles. They don't know that some kids have more toys than them, or bigger houses than them... There are other ways to parent... Because we are entirely different people.

Struggling isn't the mark of poor parenting, it's proof that you are breathing. Constantly trying to one up your efforts, reading the latest parenting book, keeping up with the invisible standard --and I hear that soon I'll be faced with how to school my children *gasp*. Aiming to bear fruit is significantly more realistic than aiming to have a perfect garden. Guess what? Someone will always disagree with you. Birth, parenthood, relationships, adulthood-- it's all hard. I imagine this thing we call motherhood would feel like a safer place if we put down the score cards and approached our differences as teammates, instead of opponents.

Simply Hard

There were a few days recently where I was just utterly drained. Depleted. Empty. You get the picture. It's not a place that I'm unfamiliar with... I am a parent of two kids, 2 years old and under. It happens even when we try to combat it. Why? Let's talk about that.

One of those days went like this: We were staying in a hotel. Jason wouldn't come back to us until we were ready to return home that evening. It wasn't a first. It's been done before. It's doable.

But we had been staying in a hotel. 

"Not a problem. I prepared for this:

Tablet, check. 

Snacks, check.

Diapers, check.

Head Phones, check.

Chargers, check.

Favorite Toys, check.

Emergency Clothing Changes, check.

Homeopathics, check.

Easy Out-of-hotel plans, check..."

You get the picture.

I have done this before. 

Motherhood is by no means something I believe can be mastered. The moment you think you've "got this" you wake up from an accidental nap to find your daughter's blankie in the toilet and the bathroom trash's contents across the floor... Not that that has ever happened *wink wink*.

So I was prepared to not be prepared... this wasn't the hunger games, I knew we would survive it.

So we took it easy. Before Jason left I packed up the big stuff in the hotel room, Jason carried those things to the car. We went to the lobby (without him), ate breakfast... I had Reia in my Tula baby carrier, Gemma sat in a large backed chair eating an apple while I ordered my coffee. 

I've got this! ---CRAP! I know better than to say that!

Not long after this I realized I needed to take our "party" to the car... Gemma was running from me every chance she got. Her apple had hit the floor a few times at this point. Reia was becoming upset and wanted to eat. Gemma, who has had seasonal allergies lately, begins coughing. And coughing. And coughing. No big deal. This is basic mom-gig stuff. I can secure Gemma in the car, lather oils on her and play her favorite song while I nurse. See? I had a plan. 

Apparently I should have conferenced with my kids about this plan first. By the time we reached the car, the wifi was poor, requiring data that we couldn't spare. I turned up the Christmas music on the radio and nursed Reia. Gemma, however, wasn't interested in oils. So I did what any mother would do... what was best for her! While nursing Reia I reached back with a roller ball of oil in my right hand and rolled it on whatever skin I could reach! No biggie. She is loud and upset, but once those oils kick in she'll calm down. But the oils didn't give her relief, nor did it calm her. This too has happened before. All of these things! 

You're beginning to get the idea, right? From the parking lot, to missing daddy, to navigating traffic with out-of-date GPS, to feeding a picky eater in a restaurant, etc... It's been done before. I already had these mom-merit-badges. So what was different? Was anything different? It's so obvious looking back. It was all of these little things TOGETHER. I was prepared for all of these things... but I wasn't prepared for them to be piggy backing each other. That had never happened before. I assumed some things would just go smoothly. 

Surely something will be low maintenance and I can relax while we're on this trip.

But the truth is and the reality of life is... sometimes it's completely up to my Maker to get me through! Nothing on earth can match His insurance policy.

FAITH.

These small, unfortunate struggles during our day kept piling on. The phrase "The straw that broke the camel's back" comes to mind. Sometimes it's just a mountain of straw on our backs! That day wasn't hard because anyone was lazy, difficult or particularly challenging... It wasn't hard because our plans were complicated or advanced. Sometimes it's just hard because there's no way around it! I received just enough self-care. Just enough to make it from sun up to sun down. You know what this reminds me of?

"I will rain down bread from heaven for you. The people are to go out each day and gather enough for that day. In this way I will test them and see whether they will follow my instructions." Exodus 16:4

I won't pretend to know the upper-story here. I don't know if God had a specific lesson in mind, if the devil was attacking, or if I just should have done things differently. That's behind us... so the question is, what value do I take from this? 

I had just enough. When Jason returned that evening, the girls were happy to see him. (As was I!) But my resources were tapped. I was running on empty after a job well done. God sent his manna, it was just enough for my day. Was I paying attention? Was I satisfied? Were we sustained? 

And what about all that straw? The straw slowly blew away with time. Jason, one of God's enormous gifts to me, was the breeze that God used to take it away. Thank you, Lord for a kindhearted husband and father who lightened that load and gave me rest. 

Even when life is simply hard, He always gives just enough... 

Not Good Enough

Over the last few months I've been learning the ropes of raising two highly affectionate little girls. My oldest's name is Gemma. She was born on the anniversary of our wedding ceremony and in all of her extroverted goodness, has been "stealing the show" ever since. My youngest, Reia, is just now 3 months old. As a former foster family we aren't strangers to having a fourth body in our home... but those other babies weren't breast fed or co-sleeping, so this little one has had a few tricks up her sleeve that are new to us.

My girls are the most enormous gift I can imagine. I frequently just stand in awe and admiration of God's skill and generosity. I also frequently feel that I've screwed up. I miss the mark. I under appreciate them or behave in a way that will undoubtedly scar their memories of me...

I am not good enough. 

When noon rolls around... "Nap time!" but two diapers need changed (because oh yeah, I haven't managed to potty train my toddler yet) and one needs nursed, the other needs her chicken nuggets reheated... I situate the toddler with edible chicken, grab a cup of water and make my way to the couch to finally nurse the fussing 3 mo and I hear a sippy-cup hit the floor. I sit down on the couch and begin nursing anyway, after all, "natural consequences teach kids about real life..." But while I manage to open my youngest's mouth wide enough to get a proper latch, I am tense and shout "Hang on!" in frustration as my toddler repeatedly shouts my name and maneuvers herself into a position so painful that she is now in tears and cannot free herself. Now tears well up in my eyes, with my baby still nursing away... I spiral: "The natural consequences of NOT giving her back the sippy-cup that she threw will now create this nuclear energy spike that, if not addressed soon, will result in a 2 hr tantrum, followed by a late nap, leading to a late bed time. And we all know that kids who don't get enough sleep go on to have lower test scores and never move away from home..." (oh how funny these panic moments seem in hindsight.)

I am not GOOD enough. I am introverted. My oldest is extroverted. I have to guard my energy like food in a famine when she is awake. She will absorb every single last ounce of my good. She fills her bucket by socializing. The yin to my yang. If I don't guard my energies, I have nothing left.

WHEN I mess up, am I still enough? 

You see, I, like other human beings, come with flaws. I need daily alone time, an amount of time where I am disconnected from people. This need becomes messy when you throw children into the equation. Some days it just doesn't happen... someone misses their nap time, or someone gets sick... what do I give my kids when I haven't had an opportunity to fill ME up? What bucket do I draw from? And what do I have to offer myself?

• Sometimes I go with my serious bucket... "Maybe If i just become stoic I won't snap at them!?" 
• Sometimes I go with the panic bucket, "Are you kidding me? I'm allowed to be responsible for children while in this condition!? Everyone gets room time!" 
• But sometimes I go to the grace bucket... "Gemma, I know you really hoped to have XYZ, it's pretty disappointing to go without what we want... but if we work together it will be ok."

I am enough.

I'll never always be GOOD enough. But I am ENOUGH. Do you see the difference? I accept that what I have to offer may not always be "good" or "perfect" but because of Grace, it's always enough. And on the days when I have run out of "good" to give myself, I reach for the grace bucket... I deserve heaps of grace. He is enough. Because of Him, there is enough to go around; thank God my success doesn't depend on me. Daily he says to me "Tab, I know you really hoped to be more today, it's pretty disappointing when we go without what we want... but if we work together it will be ok."