Motherhood: Complaining, Becoming a Group Drop Out and Deconstruction
/As a teen and young adult, I had been indoctrinated to believe I should be the epitome of what God asked of all women - to be a “keeper at home,” have a family, stay home to raise and educate my children and be a submissive, supportive wife. My Christian fundamentalist church and the Christian homeschool ministry cult my family joined all echoed these same beliefs, making it a woman’s Biblical calling. Those who didn’t fit the mold or chose to not comply were considered rebellious. They would miss God’s perfect blessing. Their children would suffer and their marriages would have endless conflict.
Imagine my surprise when I became a mother myself who was neck deep in layers of faith deconstruction. I found myself in an unexpected place. I was a mommy-group drop out.
Mommy groups have never been my thing. I just never fit in. As a younger mom, I really tried to connect with other moms in my church and community. Whenever I tried, it just wasn’t natural. Everything was awkward. Finally, I stopped forcing myself into uncomfortable situations.
For years I thought something was wrong with me and I was just a social misfit. Until, I met another mom who steered clear of mommy groups too. We clicked instantly. Our conversations were deep and meaningful. We revived one another’s hearts. Then that happened again - instant connection with a mom, who didn’t do mommy groups or play groups.
A common reason I discovered that “we didn’t do” mommy groups was - all the complaining. Here I was, trusting God for daily grace and patience. I was digging down into my soul searching for His strength, looking to Jesus to meet me in the bathroom for the 30th trip that day, or while I cleaned smeared avocado off my fridge.
Every time I went to a mommy group or group play date, I left discouraged and depressed. Either - I wasn’t good enough, comparatively, OR all I heard was complaining.
For a couple years, I lived in a community where it seemed like every woman had elective cosmetic surgery. I mean - you’d go to a city park, start chatting it up with a mom and before ya know it, she’d begin telling you about her tummy tuck and her boob-job. This was the culture. 9 out of 10 women were knock-outs. It was a yoga pant festival along the town sidewalks with designer tennis shoes and killer bodies flouncing behind jogger strollers. And there was me, the curvy, very natural bodied gal in jeans and a t-shirt. Again - ding ding ding - I didn’t fit in, social misfit over here.
When, one by one, throughout the years I’ve connect with other misfit moms like myself, our conversations are challenging, uplifting, and life giving. Such a distinct opposite to the mommy groups.
You see, I’m a mom. Moms get tired too. No one likes wiping poop. Today, I chose to identify as someone other than, Moooooom! I still have the baby belly and I’m running on caffeine. My shirt is accidentally inside out and I’m wearing a cute knotted headband - not because it’s a fashion statement, but because it’s huge and covers most of my greasy hair…which is in a pile on the top of my head.
You see, I’m a mom. It’s my job. All the grace. All the patience. All the long-suffering. (And there are sleepless nights the whole family suffers long…and hard.) All those things I desperately need.
Note, I didn’t say it would be easy. You’re going to be exhausted. You’re going to question your ability to raise your children in the without completely destroying their future selves. You’re going to be challenged to your core. Anger is going to show up, when before you were never an angry person! You’re going to learn what’s important to you and start searching out why.
Being a mom takes patience. No one really ever explained to me just how much patience - that’s something you have to discover for yourself. When you hit the point of, “I can’t do this! Momming is too hard!” and you don’t know what to say to the mouthy tween remember, God has already placed within you the ability to do this thing, you can do this. And a family counselor is a good thing. So is a weekend away with friends.
Your job isn’t to look perfect. Your job isn’t to raise perfect, suitably adjusted kids. Your job is to live and show the love of Jesus - starting with your family.
Often during deconstruction your identity is challenged. You feel like an outsider. The image you had of what you would be doing and how you would behave when you’re a mom has been shattered. You question your gut instincts because they feel opposite of how you were taught. You can wander in a fog for a bit. You might be having an identity crisis. You might be reevaluating what gender roles should look like or why you feel invigorated when you leave your family and help a friend or work outside the home.
For me, the complaining of the mommy-groupies made me feel even more confused and saddened at the image of Christian motherhood.
Bottom Line:
Who cares if you’re a misfit - God has gifted you something special, your mind, your personality, your unique story, your own experiences, your kids. Maybe it’s a good thing you don’t fit in with what’s acceptable in the culture. Stop comparing, and start living.
What you were Divinely-wired to be is exactly what God will use in the lives of your children, and those around you. Who you are today - even during deconstruction - is what your kids need. You will get through this. Stop complaining like all the other moms, and rest assured that you are exactly what your child needs. The mom with all the questions, the mom who is changing her mind, the mom who is trying new things, the mom who is making mistakes, the mom who is a living example of real, vulnerable life.
