Being the mom I am, instead of the mom I wish I was
December 7, 2019 | Leslie Colaw
By Leslie Colaw
For as long as I can remember, I’ve wanted to be a mom. I played house as a girl, had cabbage patch dolls, and ALWAYS loved babies (still do), especially my younger cousins. As I approached college and needed to choose a major, I began to pray about what God wanted me to do with my life. In my heart began to grow an even stronger desire for motherhood, and I knew that was my number one calling. I still went to college to pursue a degree in Psychology, but my sights were set on a stay-at-home mom life.
I couldn’t wait. The women who mentored me as a young girl were stay-at-home moms, and I admired them so much. They were amazing, loving moms and in my mind, it was gonna be a sweet life.
So, got married, we moved to Iowa, and my husband and I began our ministry. I worked a few jobs to save money as we began this life together, but the baby fever eventually won out and we ended up pregnant with our first child. Oh, I was so excited! I couldn’t wait to be a mom! It was all I really wanted to do with my life and I couldn’t wait to get started.
The day finally arrived. I won’t go into detail, but the birth of our first child, our son Noah, was slightly traumatic. He ended up being delivered by C-section after a long labor. I wasn’t even conscious when he made his entrance into the world. The first time I laid eyes on him, we were in the recovery room when I regained consciousness and looked to my right to see him cradled in his Daddy’s arms. He was perfect.
But reality hit fast. Recovering from a C-section was difficult and he had a bad case of jaundice. Our hospital stay ended up being almost a week and I was more than ready to take him home, but things didn’t improve much. I ended up in a really bad place, crying all the time, struggling with overwhelming feelings of despair. After a visit to the doctor I realized I was struggling with post-partum depression. And on top of that there were the usual challenges: sleepless nights, learning how to breastfeed, constantly changing diapers.
Here I was, finally living out my dream vocation, and it wasn’t at all what I thought it would be. In many ways, that’s how I’d describe motherhood…not what I thought it would be. And I think I speak for a lot of moms when I say that it wasn’t so much motherhood itself that was a disappointment. I was disappointed with myself.
I wanted to be my ideal version of mom, but as is often true in life, ideal and actual don’t line up.
As a mom there are all these “shoulds.” I should be completely thrilled to have these babies. I should love spending every moment with them. I should find joy in teaching them things. I should be able to meet their every need. I should be consistent. I should be patient.
And then there are all the “shouldn’ts.” I shouldn’t yell. I shouldn’t let them watch TV. I shouldn’t let them eat junk food. I shouldn’t feel resentful. I shouldn’t feel like this is boring and monotonous work. I shouldn’t get them in trouble for just being kids. I shouldn’t grow weary of their endless questions.
The truth is, it isn’t how I thought it would be. I’M not the mom I thought I would be. I thought I would love it so much more than I often do. I didn’t know how exhausting and overwhelming it could be.
I wish that I loved having them cook in the kitchen with me. But the truth is, I just want to get it done as quickly as possible.
I wish that I loved doing arts and crafts with them. But the truth is, I’d rather not deal with the mess.
I wish that I loved cuddling in bed with them at night. But the truth is, I usually just want to get them in bed so I can have some alone time.
I wish that I was easygoing and relaxed about things, but I get irritated a lot more often than I care to admit.
Slowly, I’m learning to accept myself as the mom that I am, not the mom I wish I was. I’m not the home schooling, chicken raising, gardening, Pinterest-crafting mom that soaks up every moment with her kids and responds to all their childish mistakes with kindness and gentleness. (Does this type of mom exist? The kind that joyfully “does it all”? If you’re out there…you want to do some stuff for me?)
This is more the mom that I am…
I need alone time. And if I give myself freedom to have it, I’m a better mom.
I love to read. I always have. So I read to my kids because that’s an activity we can enjoy together. I love to read the books they’re reading so we can talk about it and share something together. (Not all of my kids love reading as much as I do, but I hold onto hope…and keep nagging a little.)
As my kids get older, I’m finding we have more things to talk about, and it’s fun developing friendships with them. I’m a good listener and advice-giver and they come to me to talk about what’s bothering them.
I’m a woman who’s passionate about her relationship with the Lord, and while I am far from perfect, I certainly hope I am modeling for them a life that is defined by a love for God and his people.
I’m learning to embrace the mom I am instead of feeling disappointed in not being the mom I wish I was. I’m learning to lean into my strengths instead of focus on my weaknesses. The truth is, in spite of my failings, there is nothing I wouldn’t do for my kids. I want their absolute best, and the fact that I sometimes fail them doesn’t diminish that. I seek their forgiveness when I let them down, and in doing so teach them about humility, and they teach me about grace with their sweet, quick-to-forgive spirits.
I’m also learning to become a better version of the mom that I am. I’m learning to relax about the mess in the kitchen because of the value of that time spent together. I’m learning to push past my exhaustion late at night because those are opportune times for important conversations. I’m even learning that it’s not worth it to get so irritated about little things like spilt milk and a coat on the floor instead of hanging on the hook where it belongs. I’m learning that the best mom for my kids isn’t the ideal mom, but a better version of the mom they have.
There will probably always be moments and days where I wrestle with this disappointment with myself and this feeling that I don’t measure up to my own expectations. But when my teenage son gives me a hug in the parking lot of the grocery store he works at for all the world to see, or when my daughter tells me I’m the “best mom ever” even though I lose my patience with her frequently…I guess if they love me as the mom I am, I don’t need to be the mom I wish I was.