Motherhood: Let It Break You But Don’t Despair

I wrote the following piece as a guest blog post back in 2018. I revisited it recently, bringing back so many memories and emotions. I'm very grateful I recorded these epiphanies when I did, as they still hold true and continue to shape my growth and evolution as a mother, now of adults! I pray these candid reflections are an encouragement to you!  xoxoxo

This morning, the Divine Liturgy was lively, filled with prayers and the sounds of children fidgeting and swaying. While hymns were sung, toddlers needed redirection every 30 seconds or so. It was loud, bustling, and sacred. Mothers moved in and out of the nave, simultaneously comforting and quieting their little ones while trying to engage in the service. These selfless mothers bravely show up to work out their salvation in this way, considering the herculean effort needed to raise a family in the Church and the discomfort of facing unwanted attention from the outbursts of tired children.

I prayed for each of them. I prayed for all of us because motherhood is hard, much harder than I ever imagined in 1998 when I was pregnant with our first and full of shiny, unyielding assumptions about what constituted a “good” mom. I was determined to be one.

Oh my goodness, if I had realized how completely I’d be knocked down, stretched, and torn apart by the years to come, I would have approached this whole mothering thing with a lot more fear and trembling. But maybe it’s better that I didn’t. Perhaps that naive, arms-wide-open attitude is exactly what I needed to rush enthusiastically into the unknown, where one continuous mystical cycle of death and rebirth awaited me.

I am not the same woman I was when I began this journey, and I will continue to evolve again and again as my children transition from one stage to the next. The lessons I’ve learned thus far have been surprising and humbling. In this post, I will share three of them with you in the hope that perhaps one or two may resonate and bring you comfort. I know I find rest and renewal in simply being understood.

1. Allow yourself to be broken, but don’t despair

I always knew, of course, that when I became a mom, I would truly love my children. However, I couldn’t comprehend how vast, demanding, fierce, and overwhelming maternal love could be until I was immersed in baby onesies and diapers, getting only a couple of hours of uninterrupted sleep each night. That love was so immense, it couldn’t fit in my pre-mom heart without repeatedly exploding into a thousand tiny pieces and reconstructing it all over again, each time becoming bigger and more pliable. I hadn’t expected it to take over every single fiber of my being or to flood me with such anxiousness, insecurity, and joy.

Motherhood is a unique vocation because the “work” itself involves living persons with feelings, quirks, and distinct temperaments and personalities. Consequently, our competency is often judged by the world and ourselves based on the outward behaviors and choices of our very human sons and daughters. The challenge of setting aside our expectations and, without fanfare or a pat on the back, loving our children as Christ loves us—despite our own frailties and weaknesses—with patience, resilience, and gentleness remains an ongoing struggle. Being misunderstood or casually summarized feels like swallowing a burning coal. However, from an Orthodox perspective, this can be spiritually advantageous—a means of softening our hearts toward others. After having lived through:

• Carrying a screaming, flailing three-year old up the loooong escalator of a Barnes and Noble
• Causing IKEA to be put on lockdown because, in my exhaustion, I had a very public panic attack thinking I had misplaced my newborn (she was only feet away from me in her car seat)
• Leaving countless liturgies in tears because my children would not, could not, sit still and be quiet
• My fair share of “could you help us with your spirited child” parent/teacher meetings
• Teenagers

I am slow—very, very slow—to pass judgment. And thanks to my own numerous childish outbursts and parental missteps, I am quick to forgive as I long to be forgiven.

Motherhood is a mirror revealing shortcomings we weren't previously aware of, which now stare back at us, all obvious and unavoidable. Though it stings, this realization can serve as a springboard for serious growth if we view it as an opportunity to dig deep and weed out the sins that keep us bound to inner turmoil by our egos and earthly cares.

2. Pray and then speak

When my oldest daughter began 7th grade, I had many important things to share with her. Having learned numerous life lessons the hard way in middle school, I was determined to help her avoid some of the pitfalls I had encountered at her age. I lectured her about friendship, popularity, being herself, and maintaining a schedule, until one afternoon, I walked into her room, and she said, “Please Mom, no big talks today.”

I have to watch it all the time. The excessive talking and explaining cause a shutdown in my kids’ brains. I see it when I lose my temper and beat a dead horse with my words. Their eyes glaze over, and their hearts harden. In my rage, I become obsessed with winning the argument and being RIGHT! Rarely does understanding come from these heated exchanges; only resentment follows.

After all these years of being a mom and trying every trending parenting technique out there (time outs, sticker sheets, natural consequences, chore charts…), I’ve concluded that they are hard to maintain because relationships aren't formulaic. Although, I admit that sometimes when I’m really spent, I wish they were.

Sometimes, I wish that if I just consistently followed the steps in any parenting book, it would guarantee the results I think I want: obedient, subservient, room-cleaning offspring. It is tempting, especially when strong wills assert themselves, to resort to “controlling” (or attempting to anyway) my children instead of “guiding” them. But this produces only surface-level results, often at the expense of our relationship. Controlling them involves many lectures, rules, and uncompromising consequences. Guiding them requires prayer—a LOT of it—and leading by example.

Pray and then speak. That’s what to do with your children. If you are constantly lecturing them, you’ll become tiresome and when they grow up they’ll feel a kind of oppression. Prefer prayer and speak to them through prayer. Speak to God and God will speak to their hearts. That is, you shouldn’t give guidance to your children with a voice that they hear with their ears. You may do this too, but above all you should speak to God about your children. Say, “Lord Jesus Christ, give Your light to my children. I entrust them to You. You gave them to me, but I am weak and unable to guide them, so, please, illuminate them.”

-Saint Porphyrios

I am much more receptive to gentleness than to harshness. Encouragement draws out the best in me, while harsh criticism shuts me down. The most profound spiritual truths I’ve acquired have come from falling and getting up again, repeatedly. Christ’s kindness and mercy lead me to repentance. So why should I think my kids would be any different? Just as I long for God’s goodness, beauty, and grace, my children also long for that divine grace and compassion. And here’s the amazing thing: as their mother, I can become a tangible manifestation of that grace if I empty myself of pride and remain rooted in Christ.

I desperately need divine wisdom—so much wisdom—and patience. Every night, I stand at our icon corner and pray for each of my children individually. I ask God to forgive me for my mistakes and to help me become a better mother. I implore Him to guide me on when to speak and when to listen, when to put my foot down, and when to be flexible. But most importantly, I ask Him to grant me the ability to embody a living, breathing example of Christ-like love.

Ideally, I would pray before each conversation with my children and before reacting to any indiscretion. Ideally, I would lay each of them at Christ’s feet, trusting that He loves them more than I do, and remain hopeful, peaceful, and open to His leading.

I am working on this.

3. Look for the good

The last parental epiphany I want to share with you relates to the importance of connection. There will be certain developmental stages that will make you want to tear your hair out and leave you wondering, in tears, where you went wrong. These stages will pass, and you will survive (and you are a good, loving mama!!). While in the midst of them, however, it is absolutely essential to watch for even the smallest glimpses of goodness and to create as many positive connections as possible that aren’t accompanied by correction. Believe me, I have gone through some really trying stages, and this epiphany—this determination to seek out the good—is what has kept me from going completely under.

 It is so easy for us moms to focus on the negative, seeing only what needs improvement instead of recognizing the many characteristics in our children that are worth celebrating. A primarily negative mindset dampens the spirits of everyone involved. Yes, these challenging stages require increased vigilance, boundaries, and follow-through, but for every interaction that involves necessary discipline, I try to include one that doesn’t—a purely positive interaction without caveats or ulterior motives. We’ll read a story together or perhaps watch a show together. I’ll ask questions about something they are really interested in or give a specific compliment—anything to convey to my sons and daughters that they are unconditionally loved and cherished “as is,” no matter what. Any breakthroughs in communication will most likely occur when my kids feel treasured instead of just tolerated.

And the same applies to us moms. Fixating on our own shortcomings steals joy from both us and our families. Like my children, I'm a work in progress. I have both strengths and weaknesses. What comes easily to others may present a challenge for me, and vice versa. When I demand perfection from myself, I become plagued by chronic discontent, and I tend to linger in sadness when I stumble. Perfectionism makes me susceptible to despair.

When I treat myself with gentleness, my recovery time after stumbling becomes much shorter. I pray for forgiveness, ask any family member I may have wronged for their forgiveness, and move forward, taking one small step at a time. Each new day, I strive to be a little more patient, a little more thankful, and a little more trusting than I was the day before.

Comparing myself or my children to others is spiritually dangerous, like opening a Pandora’s Box of passions.   

St. John Chyrsostom said:

“God has distributed gifts and blessings in such a way that every person has a particular place and purpose within a society- and thus everyone is equally necessary for a society to function well. So, do not resent the fact that someone is more intelligent or stronger than you are. Instead give thanks for their intelligence and strength, from which you benefit. And then ask yourself, “What is my gift, and thence what is my place in society? When you have answered this question and you act according to your answer, all contempt and all resentment melt away.”

Sure, it would be great if I were less easily distracted, more organized, baked my own bread, or had a better sense of direction. I know I’m not always consistent enough or good at assigning chores to my kids (I make their beds myself). I am not crafty at all.

I could beat myself up over all these motherly things I see other moms doing better than I do, but then I’d forget what makes me special and the best mom for these four kids God purposefully placed in my care. I encourage creativity, laugh a lot, and am a great snuggler. I'm also pretty proficient at French braiding hair. I stress kindness and compassion in our home, and I adore my children. I love, love, love them with all my heart and soul.

Not long ago, my son and daughter were bickering while doing their homework at our kitchen counter. My son was being annoying, as pre-teen boys often are, and I asked him to stop. In a friendly mood, he complied and even apologized. My daughter, still irritated, remarked, “Yeah, that’s nice and all but I just forgave you for doing that like twenty minutes ago and you’ll probably do it again twenty minutes from now.” All of that was true, of course, but I calmly reminded her that this is what Christ does for us—forgives us over and over and over again for the same old transgressions. His mercy never tires; it has no limits. That’s what I long for my children to learn from being members of this family—how to forgive, let go, and start over a thousand times a day. Love hopes! Love perseveres! Love never ever gives up!

I have been pummeled by motherhood, but I am softer for it, wiser for it, and more appreciative of the abundant little joys and blessings found in embracing the present moment. God, forgive me, guide me, correct my erring thoughts, and grant my beloved children not what is easy, but what is profitable for their souls. May our collective brokenness make and keep us merciful to each other and our neighbors, and hungry for You.