This morning, I awoke to 4 children: 2 of my own and 2 of another mama. That privilege is not lost on me. Each child holds a special piece of my heart, whether they were birthed or borrowed. That's the beautiful thing about being a mama. Mama's are made in the heart.
While my heart is bursting at the seams with 4 precious blessings looking to me to be their mama, I wonder what being their mama looks like to them this year. So much of life has changed for me in the last 364 days. How has that impacted being a mama to these blessings?
Being a mama often comes under scrutiny. By ourselves, by our friends, by our family, and by our society. Women often find ourselves passionate and opinionated when it comes to mamahood. Which many times leaves us holding up the measuring stick to ourselves and others trying to navigate this journey. Ironically, very rarely do our children try to measure us up short.
Mothering another mama's children has to be one of the most vulnerable opportunities I can think of. No one could mother my own children the same way I do, so how could I possibly think my style would be embraced by one who'd much rather have her children in her home than in mine?
Opening your home to children that are not yours also opens you up to judgment as to mothering evenly. How much time do you invest on your own children vs how much time do you invest on the children entrusted to your care for a season? Who determines quantity and quality of what you give?
Stay at home mamas vs. work-outside-the-home mamas. I've been both in the last year. Both have changed me and both have changed my children. Which mama do my children need?
I'd say often too much of my identity is wrapped up in being a mama. And I know that because if someone wants to wound me deeply, all they need to do is question, criticize, or tear down my abilities as a mama. I come completely undone and swim in guilt and self-condemnation.
So as life has changed for me, I wonder how much of me has changed as a mama to my children. I'm tired, cranky, stressed out, forgetful, behind on the house and laundry, and not available as often for them. I worry about having to say goodbye to our 2 borrowed blessings. I worry about being less than for my own flesh and blood. I've lost the margin of time to take care of myself. Time and energy seem to be the unattainable dream.
I'm not the same mama this year as I was last year. Life's rhythm has propelled me forward to scary and lonely places. My plate overflows while my heart desires that my cup runneth over as the best mama I can be. I can't be both busy and best. Or can I?
Maybe the messy mama I am this year is still ok. Afterall, if Mama's are made in the heart, my heart surely hasn't changed for my loves. 364 more days to love on and press on for those I would walk through fire for. For those I would die fighting for. For those I know have been gifted to me.
At the end of every day, when my head hits the pillow and sleep comes so quickly, this mama reminds herself that all I survived this day and all that awaits me tomorrow is working together to mold me into the mama God is giving my children; not perfect, but present. They don't measure me up short. Even a tired and cranky mama is beautiful in the eyes and heart of a child.
