The Mother I Never Wanted to Be

For those of you who are mothers or who long to be mothers, do you remember envisioning what kind of mother you'd be?  Maybe you thought you'd be fun-loving, maybe you thought you'd be structured, maybe you thought you'd flood your children with music like Mr. Holland, maybe you dreamt of late nights of children snuggling in your bed, maybe you dreamt of homeschooling, maybe you dreamt of a kitchen full of fresh chocolate chip cookies.  Who knows.  What I do know is all mothers have dreams.  Dreams for themselves as mothers and dreams for their children.

When Jordan and I decided to start a family I began dreaming those dreams.  I dreamt of the ideal.  I dreamt of  little ones that we could cart from base to base without difficulty.  I dreamt of little ones that would adjust well to any setting at any time.  I dreamt of little ones who loved to learn their alphabet and who never screamed when I dropped them off at the church nursery.  I dreamt that I'd be the all-star-have-it-all-pottery-barn-ironed-clothes-still-can-work-laid-back-mother.

Then, our plans changed.

It's no secret that my children have needs that are different than most other children.  They have more fear.  They have more insecurities.  They have more unpleasant memories.  They have nervous habits.  They have leaned distrust. They seek approval in in odd/inappropriate ways.  They have significant amounts of grief and loss.  They have more baggage than most adults...most people.

Because of this I have become the mother I never wanted to be for the children of my heart.

I'm a true-blue Type A personality.  I'll always have a game plan and I'll always yearn for routine.  But this was different.  My children thrived on structure and routine.  They came from a life where NOTHING was ever the same...not the house, not the beds, not the adults, not the food, not the rules, not the smells, not the pets, not the schools, not the anything.  They didn't even all live together.  Just so you understand a bit more, my oldest child changed homes 19 times before becoming a part of our family.

Our routine became their security blanket.  For two years we have been following nearly the same routine without fail...down to the minute.  I kid you not, we had to bathe the same body parts in the same order or a child may fall to pieces.  We had to get dressed the same way.  We had to pray in the same order.  We had to sit in the same chairs.  We had to be precise and exact with everything.  For my children change invoked fear.  Change was detrimental. 

I say this all so you can truly understand and appreciate where we are now.  Slowly, ever so slowly, we have been able to ease up a tad over the last few months.  We have been able to make small exceptions and tweak the routine every so slightly.  Oh trust me, we've had our tantrums and breakdowns along the way, but I feel the children are finally learning to actually trust me.  For two years (and I'm sure we're not done) I've had to prove myself to them.  I think they actually now believe that I'm on their side.  I'm on their team.  I'm routing for them.  I am their biggest fan.  I think they are beginning to understand that changes don't have to be bad.  I think they are beginning to understand family.

The mother I never wanted to be is taking a back seat to the mother I am :)

 

"For this child I have prayed; and the LORD has granted the desires of my heart."  - 1 Samuel 1:27

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Photos courtesy of Southern Touch Photography
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