For most of my life I have been what is defined as an agnostic. I believe in god, but not in organized religion. This is not a conclusion I came to quickly, but rather one that came about through my experiences growing up and was reaffirmed through courses I took in college. I grew up in the Christian church and am baptized into Presbyterianism, so my view of god is based on the Christian views. However, the older I am and the more I look around, the more I feel that there simply cannot be one right religion. If there truly is a god, and I like to think there is, and he is as forgiving and loving as we are taught, then I cannot believe that he would accept only those who worship him under one specific name and cast all the others out. So a large part of my disassociation with organized religion comes from my belief that I cannot accept something that damns such a large segment of the human population.
Recently I’ve been doing a lot of thought about god and about religion, much of which was brought about by my pregnancy with Zoey and continued after she was born when they told us there were holes in her heart. From the very start I was given warning after warning about things that were not as they should be and precautions I needed to take to avoid miscarrying or harm being done to my precious little baby. There were tests and diagnoses and tests and tests and tests. And with these tests began my nightly discussions with god. My pregnancy with Zan was flawless and, save the normal discomforts that go along with pregnancy (and there are many), the experience was a good one. The labor was long and horrible, but in the end I had a very healthy little boy. And so I had very little stress or worry with him and very little reason to turn to prayer. This time was all incredibly different.
Maybe it was because I was already a mom and didn’t want my son to see my fear. I think a child should never be burdened with the emotions of his parents. Children feel so much emotion already that they do not know how to deal with. They don’t need to take on the weight of their parents’ worries as well. So I stayed strong outwardly. Part of doing that was pretending not to be terrified in front of everyone. People would ask me how I was doing and I would let them know I was doing fine, just a little worried. Though really, inside I was screaming and crying, terrified that something could go wrong or be wrong with my little girl. Why I didn’t turn to those around me for comfort I still don’t know. Some of it was that by nature I am a rather private person as far as my emotions are involved. But also, I think as a defense mechanism, to keep myself from worrying to my mental breaking point, I just didn’t talk much about it. I gave the facts to people, but rarely shared how truly frightened I was. That I kept inside. I ended each night with a discussion. I’m not sure it would be classified as prayer, though I definitely prayed for my little girl. It seemed that the more frightening the words the doctors said, the more turned inward and hid what I felt and what I feared. And so I turned to god. I prayed that my little girl would be healthy and that if she had to be born with something wrong, that it would be fixable, no matter what the expense. I prayed this each and every night and I found some comfort in thinking that what was meant to be would be and the hope that I would not be given more than I could handle. And in the end, it all turned out ok. Zoey was born healthy. She was small, but grew very fast. They said she had two holes in her heart, but with time, one closed up and the other got small enough for little worry. So, after all of that, I started to wonder if I might not owe a little back in return for what I was given.
At first I considered returning to church. I truly considered this option and discussed it with my even more agnostic husband, as well as a few church going friends. I started thinking about what churches I might visit and checking them out online (everything is online nowadays!). I wanted something that would fit with my views; that wouldn’t make me compromise my core beliefs. I’m pretty liberal in my thinking and though I’m somewhat conservative in my own behavior, I am pretty open to the idea that people should live the way they want to live and I don’t like to conform to views simply because someone else says I should. And so I had to find some where that embraced my opinion that god was as open and accepting as I felt he was; somewhere where man didn’t pass judgment on others. One thing that has always turned me away from organized religion was that it seems that within it man uses god as his excuse to condemn others for holding views that they don’t hold or living a lifestyle they don’t subscribe to. I never understood how you could preach love thy neighbor and then turn around and condemn them. And so my feelings about the hypocrisy of many who practice organized religion ,which originally turned me away from the church ,also left me hesitating about my return.
Then the other day I found myself discussing Ramadan with a friend and the month of fasting that she and her entire family participated in as part of their Muslim faith. I knew that they were not allowed to eat from sun up to sunset, but I did not know that the fast included not allowing ANYTHING to enter the body during that time. So not only can they not eat food, but also no water or other drinks, no smoking, no sex, and a whole list of other items. If you are exempt from the fast (you’re pregnant, ill, etc.), you have to make up the days at a later time and breaking this fast means additional fasting time. It’s truly a sacrifice, especially considering it lasts an entire month. Part of the reason that they do this fast is to reflect on those whose lives are less fortunate than our own; those who go without on a daily basis but not by choice. Giving to charity is another large part of Ramadan. Each family must give a certain amount to help others, and the amount is determined by the family’s wealth. Even the poor families give, because there is always someone out there who is less fortunate. This self sacrifice and kindness to others helps bring them closer to god and his teachings.
After having this discussion, I found myself really thinking about what god really wants of us. While it is true that I could go to church each Sunday and state my devotion, wouldn’t it be better for me to show my thanks to him in a way that helps others? To me that seems like a better way to show my gratitude for the gifts that I’ve been given. In both high school and college I did volunteer work helping the less fortunate in one way or another and it always made me feel like I was making a difference. As humans, we tend to think that our own plights are the be all to end all, often forgetting that there are plenty of others out there who have it so much worse. We get so wrapped up in our own self-pity that we shut our eyes to the ways that we are fortunate. If we were all forced to fast, to give up our self-absorbed lifestyles for even a few days, perhaps the world would be a better place. Perhaps we would remember to think outside our own lives. And perhaps we would take the time to do something to make a difference in the lives of others. If we were each to do this, even once in a while, what an amazing difference we could make in the world. It’s easy to think I am only one person, what difference could I really make… but if we all think this way and walk around assuming that someone else is going to take care of it if we don’t, then nothing will happen. The world will continue to be as it is now- full of greed and hate and self-absorbed notions.
And so I find myself now wondering, since I do not have much in the way of free time, does it make me a bad Christian to choose to spend my time in volunteer work rather than going to church? To many it would. I have always believed that it shouldn’t matter if you go to church, so long as you show your devotion in the way you live your life. Do unto others. Be kind to those around you, no matter what their situation in life. The world is my church and the way I interact with it my first step in showing devotion. And so this month I plan to start my search for the ways in which I can affect the lives of those around me who are not as fortunate. Perhaps I will post here to let you know how it goes.
Rambling thoughts on devotion...
The Reality of Motherhood...
The reality of motherhood is something you don't know about until it hits you in the face. Splat, like baby food dripping down your cheek.
Oh, you may think you know what to expect. Perhaps you were one of those little girls who has been dreaming about becoming a mother your entire life- dutifully caring for your baby doll, combing her hair and changing her diapers. You dream that one day you will hold your child in your arms and she will smile lovingly up at you and coo and your heart will melt into the blissful abyss of motherhood. Yes, it's all very romantic. But that's not the reality. Don't get me wrong, I had those dreams too. They're perfectly normal for women who have no children. I pictured myself with a little house in the country, working outdoors in my garden on a warm spring day while my baby dozed peacefully nearby in his Moses basket. Really, that was my day dream. Stop laughing.
Or maybe, you say, I've read all the books, taken all the classes, and seen all the videos that are out there. I'm totally prepared. That's cool, I said that too. Of course, I was wrong. I don't often like to admit it, but in this case, yes, I was totally, utterly wrong.
You may even say Well, I have spent TONS of hours babysitting, taking care of my nieces and nephews. I know how to handle kids. Again, I am fairly certain I was under the impression, pre-children, that this too had made me totally prepared. Again, wrong.
You see, nothing can truly prepare you for children except having children- and once you reach that point, there' s no turning back. I look back now and laugh at all my preconceived notions about motherhood and how to be a parent. I blush to think how simple I thought life would be. How black and white. Cut and dry. I'd read the books. I'd babysat kids. I knew what to do. How hard could it be? Really??
For those of you who have no children yet, let me enlighten you. Those of you who do, you can just nod your heads in agreement and maybe remember back to when you too lived the care-free, pre-kid existence and also thought of motherhood as a romantic notion.
Motherhood is not pretty. It is not easy. It's not for wimps. Terms like being poor, stressed or exhausted are truly subjective and you only think you've experienced them. Once you have kids, you will realize you hadn't. Until now. From that first night home from the hospital (I'll even skip over the grueling event that is labor), you find out what the term sleep deprived really means. In those first few months, you subsist on very few hours of sleep. At this point I myself am getting about 4.5-5 hours a night total. And that's GOOD in comparison to life just a month or so ago. Oh, and you might say, well, I've had nights like that. Well, when a mother of a newborn tells you how many hours of sleep she got the previous night, keep in mind- those hours are not in one big chunk. Nor are they followed by a full night of sleep the following night. Or any time in the months to come. And sleep deprivation doesn't just mean you're sleepy. Oh no, it means you're officially a zombie. Seriously. You stumble around bumping into things, mumbling to yourself, often realizing you have no idea where it was you were going or what you had planned to do once you got there. I cannot tell you the number of times I have done this in the past 3 months since my daughter was born. I can, however, say it has happened more often than not. Lack of sleep causes "mommy brain"- a term you will only understand once you have experienced it. Moms who make mistakes (big or small- forget to shut off the sink vs. get out to your car and realize you've forgotten your child in the house) will just look at each other, shake their heads and mumble Sorry, mommy brain. The other mom will just chuckle and understand, having just uttered the same explanation earlier that day. Women without kids have a tendency to just look at the "mommy brain" mom and wonder how she could forget something like she just did.
Now before you get all defensive, remember, I was pre-kid once, so I can say these things. I will openly admit to thinking them. Let's be honest here, we all do.
Mommy brain isn't the only thing to become part of your day to day existence once you enter the world of parenting. Be prepared for your idea of "clean" to go out the window as well. Now before I had kids, I kept a pretty clean house. And when I knew we'd be having company, I cleaned till the house sparkled. Literally. After you have a child, you either have to amend your definition of clean or you go insane. Trust me. There is a saying that goes "Cleaning your house before your children are grown is like shoveling your walk before it quits snowing." Never were truer words uttered. I have come to believe that my son sees a clean room as a blank canvas and himself as the master artist- in this case he's definitely aiming towards the style of Picasso or Kandinsky. No sooner do I put away his toys and vacuum up the crumbs than here he comes, barrelling in, toast (or some other crumb producing snack) in hand, with the idea that today is "national dump out all the baskets" day. Within 10 minutes the room looks as it did before and husband dares to say I thought you were going to clean the house today. Now the answer to this, of course, is to pick up after the child goes to bed. But really, there are only so many hours in the day after the kid(s) are in bed and who really wants to spend them cleaning- especially when you know that tomorrow morning, about half an hour after the kids have gotten up, the house will look just as it did the evening before. So now, three years into motherhood, I have redefined clean. Clean simply means not dangerous or unhealthy. Yes, there are crumbs on my floor. There are toys everywhere. There are definitely sticky surfaces throughout my house. And please don't look under my couch cushions. But, there is nothing growing (save the two sad house plants which have weathered the storm of neglect) and there is nothing a child could injure themselves on (though they do try!). That, now, is my definition of clean.
Your own personal cleanliness will also fall by the wayside when you become a mother. The amount of time you spend getting ready will definitely be reduced- both by necessity and by your own changing standards of how you must look for day to day life. This is both good and bad. The good thing is that you find once you are a mother, and have been one for a good while, that you can get ready in 5 minutes flat. Anytime, anywhere. I used to spend an hour each morning carefully applying my makeup and doing my hair. I'd shave my legs on a regular basis. I'd shower. After motherhood... well.... You see, the reality of life after kids is just this- you will never again be the number one priority in your life. That's not necessarily a bad thing. Just a different thing. And because of this fact, especially if you are a mom with an infant, you will find that you just don't take care of yourself as well. You simply don't have time. I joke with my husband that real moms smell like spit up. Those moms on tv, they don't often reflect the way motherhood really is. I'm guessing they don't have to check the backs or shoulders of their shirts before leaving the house to make sure there are no spit up stains. They don't save leg shaving for that special night once a month when just maybe the husband takes the kids long enough for you to take a bath or shower for more than 2 minutes. And they certainly don't slather on baby lotion with the hopes that it will cover up the smell of unwashed mommy. Motherhood teaches you just how many days you can go without washing your hair before someone finally comes out and tells you you look like hell- at which point you shove the kid in their arms and thank them for their offer to babysit while you take a shower, then run before they have a chance to realize what they've gotten themselves into.
So let's see, we've covered sleep deprivation, messy houses and unwashed mommies. That brings us to caring for your infant. The fun part. I read just about every book our library had on child rearing, child development, discipline, setting rules and instilling values. I took every single parenting class that our hospital offered. My poor husband was drug along to all but the breastfeeding one. I got accounts on a zillion websites that taught me all I needed to know. Then I had the baby and realized I had no idea what I was doing. Thank god my mother was there for that first night. Otherwise I would have gone insane. The truth is, nothing you do will make you feel prepared enough for that helpless little being. You may have read the books and taken the classes, but guess what... your baby didn't. And perhaps he isn't good at following the "rules". He didn't know what to expect when his mommy was expecting, so why should he follow the timeline in "what to expect during the first year". He most certainly didn't read the chapters on there being distinct cries for hunger, pain, anger, boredom... and he didn't read that there were supposed to be all sorts of techniques that were created to make him happy when he was doing that crying. And sometimes I think maybe he read them and just did the opposite to spite me. Ok, not really, but I am serious when I say that there will be times (many times) when you will find that your baby is not following the book. At all. And that means that all the techniques the book tells you to use aren't working either. When in doubt, screw the books. Once you realize that parenting is more about understanding your baby than it is about following those baby trouble shooting guides, life gets easier. Ok, not easier per se, but you get where I'm going with this. Once I realized that babies don't follow the books and parenthood isn't the romantic notion hollywood makes it out to be, life was a bit more acceptable. I realized I wasn't a failure as a mother because I couldn't get my baby to stop crying by swaddling or because I lost my cool the first time my toddler threw a tantrum.
Now perhaps it sounds as if I'm trying to scare you off of the idea of having kids. That's not true at all. I'm simply stating the reality of the situation. And sure, it's difficult, but it's doable. Parenting is about personal growth. You realize that you can overcome just about anything once you've dealt with a blow out diaper when you have no clothing change or when your child melts down in public. Your children keep you humble. They teach you patience. They force you and your spouse to discuss the tough issues and make the tough decisions. They test the limits of your marriage and your personal sanity, but you come out stronger because of it. What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, eh. Best of all though, they make you happy. Truly, ecstatically happy. Not a day goes by that my son doesn't charm the socks off me or impress me with his growing intelligence. I marvel at his understanding of the world, which is often more simple and clear than my own. And my 3 month old daughter's smile can warm my heart on even the roughest of days. It got me through so many late nights and early mornings where all I wanted to do was curl up in a ball and sleep, even if it was just for 15 minutes, but I couldn't because she needed to eat again or Zan wanted to play ball. Parenting is rough- believe me. It will test you like nothing you've EVER faced. But it's also the most wonderful experience you will ever have. And that's why all that other stuff is worth it. :) So just hang in there.
Because I have so little free time already...
So I've had this blog account for a while now, but never did anything with it. And since all the mommies on my chat board are starting blogs, I figured I'd give in to the peer pressure and put this page to use. So this is my blog. I seriously doubt I'll update it often. Actually, knowing me, I'll update it regularly for about a month and then lose interest and thereafter it will be ignored except for the times when I'm seriously bored or procrastinating.
That's pretty much the way my life goes. I'll discover some new and exciting thing I want to put my creative energy into, research the hell out of it, stock up on whatever supplies I might need to begin my new endeavor, start a project and then about two days in, it'll lose its luster. My husband will tell you that I have hundreds of unfinished projects all over our house. Drives him nuts. I prefer to think it was the thought that counted. That's what they say, right?
Well, my life is kind of like that in general. Not just with projects. I'm nearly 30 years in now and I'm sensing a trend. Some might say it's a lack of focus. I prefer to think it's that I just haven't decided what I want to do when I grow up and I haven't quite realized yet that I've grown up. I'm married with two children in a little beige house in a big beige subdivision in the flat midwest. There are no spur of the moment happenings, no whirlwind trips across the world, no late nights that do not involve a sick child or a nursing pillow. No, life is just about as grown up as it can get. And I guess that means I am too. But yet, I still have no focus. Or perhaps my focus is on motherhood. And I guess that's good enough for now, since it's a pretty big project and the end results are pretty important. And I do enjoy the rewards. :) So long as I handle it ok, I can flounder around all I want in other aspects of life and still accomplish something great. Or so I like to think.
Again I'm rambling along, no real topic. But that's pretty much status quo for me.
