When the Dream of Motherhood Becomes a Nightmare

As a teenager I worked at a daycare. I enjoyed working there. I loved the kids. Loved spending time with them. Loved, playing, cuddling, feeding, and even changing them. Kids were my world. They were all I wanted. My dream was to get married and have a family of my own. To live out a quiet life, taking care of my husband and children. Cooking and cleaning for them. Playing with them. Teaching them. Loving them.

I met Jay when I was just over 18 and we were married just before I turned 21. A little late in how I’d planned my life to be, but going in the right direction.

Just after our first anniversary, we found out we were expecting. I was overjoyed, ecstatic, elated, and…nervous. What was pregnancy going to be like? Was labor really as hard as they say? Would I wind up needing a cesarean like my mom?

Obviously, all of these questions were answered in time. Pregnancy is a miracle.( One that makes me grumpy. ) Labor is difficult, but honestly not as bad as I had imagined. And different with each child. I did not need a cesarean even though I had large babies. God had made my body capable of handling them, if not my frayed emotions. And it was all so worth it. At the end is a beautiful new soul that you get to nurture and a soft head that you can kiss daily. Sure there are set backs too, like nursing for the first time, but nothing is too much to give to your baby.

In those first days, weeks, months, I never really asked the question, “Will I be a good mom?” Sure, I wondered what my baby would be like. I wondered if I could handle labor, and nursing, and being up all night but I never feared that I would be a horrible mother. Children were my dream, a dream soon to be attained. Of course I would be good at it. Everyone said I was a natural with children. I felt natural with children.

After Adam was born, my confidence was shaken when he screamed for the first three weeks of his life. I wondered what I was doing wrong. Honestly, I wondered what on earth we’d been thinking when we started praying for a baby. Then the doctor told us she thought he might have a milk allergy. Problem solved. I now had a happy, although skinny, baby boy. My confidence grew up again and I carried on as a happy mother with everything I ever wanted.

As Adam grew into a toddler, I was told we were too hard on him, that we expected too much from him. My confidence faltered once again but was reestablished when I was reminded that only Jay and I are held accountable for how our children are raised.

Time marched on and we had two more children.

And somewhere, somehow, the dream was lost. Cleaning became a never-ending drudgery. Cooking became tedious and too time consuming. Laundry is never done. Yard work is just not worth it. And cleaning pee off of the floor makes me angry.

The children are naughty. They fight, make messes, and whine. I no longer ache to hear them say “Mommy” but cringe when I hear it. I tune out anything that doesn’t sound deathly. More often than not, I would rather put in a movie for them than try to play with them while they’re fighting the whole time. I long for nap and bed time (wasn’t it just a short while ago that I couldn’t wait for Adam to wake up so I could see him?) Their messes are no longer cute. They’re constant asking to help me with something drives me to near madness. And their chatter makes my back ache from tension. How did I become this mother?

Talking with friends last night, I realized that I don’t like what my children say because I no longer listen. I don’t enjoy playing with them because I am too busy doing something else. They make me angry because I have disengaged myself. Only a few years ago I would have spent as much of my day as possible playing, or reading, or walking, or even sitting and watching a movie with kids. Today, I spend most of my day trying to get them to leave me alone. Why?!

How long has it been since I have spoken to them for the sheer joy of conversing with them rather than to correct or scold them? Would cooking dinner be more pleasant if I let them help? If I just chose not to say anything to them instead of yelling, would my anger disperse? If I just quietly put them on their beds when they fight or are naughty, would they calm down instead of rising up against me? If I put the book down and got up would they listen better? Would I still have to hide in the bathroom praying they don’t get a penny to unlock the door from the hallway if I would only play with them when they ask, instead of telling them I’m busy?

I cam home last night feeling beaten-down, disappointed, defeated. I came home wondering why I had become this self-absorbed mother that gleans nothing but stress from her children. I came home feeling sorry for myself. And when I talked to Jay, he told me to get back to the basics. He mentioned routine and consistency. Regular meals and naps and so forth, which I thought was a great suggestion after I got over feeling attacked. But I think that I need to get even more basic than that. The basics are: These are my children
I am responsible for taking care of them
They need me
I love them and love is not self-serving.

And most importantly, God trusted me to take care of them according to his purpose. How can I fulfill the will of God when I am angry at them all the time? Basically speaking, I can’t.

So, changes are being made. No more computer, reading, etc. until nap time. Only one movie a day. The kids are going to help me with meals and cleaning. And I am going to try to listen to what they are actually saying to me. No more yelling and threatening, just cut and dry discipline. They misbehave, something gets taken from them or they lay on their beds. No talking, debating, or arguing. And if I was skeptical about this method last night, I am feeling better about it today.

“This you know, my beloved brethren. But let everyone be quick to hear, slow to speak and slow to anger; for the anger of man does not achieve the righteousness of God.”
~James 1: 19 & 20

I cannot expect to achieve the righteousness of God in my children if I am dealing with them in anger all of the time.