On Motherhood

I read an article in the Wall Street Journal entitled "Mother Madness"about a week ago. It's subtitle read: "Spend every moment with your child? Make your own baby food and use cloth diapers? Erica Jong wonders how motherhood became such a prison for modern women." Since that pretty much describes my life, I was naturally a bit defensive. "A prison?! I love my kids! How dare she suggest...." You get the picture.

It was a rather complex article, lambasting attachment, green, and helicopter parenting, defending her decision to pursue a career which often took her away from her daughter, and encouraging communal mothering. But the thrust of the article stressed that society places guilt on mothers for not parenting a certain way. It seemed to me (and I may be wrong) that her "Do the best you can. There are no rules" stance was a way to justify her own choices as a mother and in essence, to ask "what about me?"

It is not my intention to vilify her. I don't think it's helpful. To begin with, I don't expect the world to do parenting the way I am called to do parenting. It is good for society and for families when people love their kids selflessly, but aside from the gospel, it really doesn't make much sense. I am happy when people do it anyway, but I don't think it's worth getting mad at the world for being the world.

What surprised me, though, after my initial reaction, was that I could sympathize with some of her article. While I obviously do not agree with her response--I think it's quite selfish, and it saddens me--there are times that I feel trapped. Not that there's not more than enough joy and laughter and hilarity to remind me of why it's worth it. But it's emptying work. And really only at the cross can we look at that and see it as a good thing.

Today I have read stories, played playdoh, danced to kids music, tickled both of my children. I have stepped in spit up, cleaned up one of Ava's "accidents", fished poop out of the bathtub, been mauled by my seven-month-old. I washed cloth diapers, cleaned the kitchen, gave Ava a bath, picked up toys, made dinner. All on probably four or five hours of broken sleep.

Being a mom is hard, but it is important work. I sometimes have to remind myself that kids don't come out of the box acting like adults. Ava throws fits; Timmy screams intermittently through the night. They are kids, and they have been given to me to steward and shepherd. I have the opportunity to love them sacrificially and to show them grace. I cannot do it perfectly as Jesus does. I don't feel that I have yet had the self beat out of me. But by laying my life down, by not holding fast to my rights, my desires for myself, I am pointing to the One who

being in very nature God,
did not consider equality with God something to be used to his own advantage;
rather, he made himself nothing
by taking the very nature of a servant,
being made in human likeness.
And being found in appearance as a man,
he humbled himself
by becoming obedient to death—
even death on a cross! (Philippians 2:6-8)